The Curse of the White Magic

"Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo."

- James Joyce

Momo was the first. She was the first to notice. A week after the party, she began to grow worried when her period did not come knocking on her front door. According to the 5th Division Lieutenant, ever since she first began her passage from the phase generally referred to as childhood into that of womanhood all those years ago, her little monthly gift had never failed to arrive on time. I suggested that perhaps this little delay on part of the Red Menace was a side effect on the powder I took to calling the White Magic. I probably shouldn't have told her that, as Momo was able to piece one and one together and figure out that I hadn't performed the proper tests or evaluations for that matter, on the substance prior to it getting consumed by human subjects.

Actually, that isn't entirely true. I noticed during the development stages of the White Magic that the more concentrated doses resulted in a 100 death rate among the lab rats. Kurotsuchi got a notion I was up to something when he spotted me making repeated trips to the Sereitei dump to collect more rats. Taicho suggested I use the lab rats fresh out of the Academy if I wanted my results to be more accurate, to which I responded that rats did not have the mental capacity to attend the school. Later I realized walking back to my lab that Taicho's definition of "lab rat" was far more generic than mine was.

What can I say? I wanted the White Magic to be ready in time, so I skipped the analysis portion of the scientific method, and every step after that one, and quickly decided to lessen the concentration of each dose to what I considered to be just about right.

"Just about right?!" Momo cried out in disbelief.

"Hey! We're not dead are we? So everything's fine!" I huffed back.

"Fine? You say fine?! That's all you've got to say? My period is five days late! It's never been late!" Momo was as hysterical now as she was when her Taicho lost the last year's Battle of the Hotties for the third time in five years.

"Ever?" I asked skeptically.

"Ever!" she answered, her voice getting high.

We were seated in the usual SWA meeting style to accommodate my current trial with the honorable Judge Ise presiding. Momo had taken her complaint to the SWA and after a careful investigation carried out by my ever so efficient Kurotsuchi Fukutaicho, the problem had eventually been linked to me and my White Magic. Don't get me wrong: they had every right to be pissed. If it had happened to Momo, it was only matter of time before it happened to the rest of us. I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who plans that particular week of the month around the Bane of Womanhood.

Everyone was present with the exception of the SWA President, whom we had sent on a fieldtrip to wreak havoc in some poor soul's candy store in the corner of Sereitei. The title of this particular case was The Women of the SWA v. Dillon Ichijouji, with the said defendant defending herself. My side of the "courtroom" was empty, hers was packed. What kind of free society fails to provide an attorney if one cannot afford one? Well, certainly not within the realm of late periods or whatnot.

"Tell us, Dillon Ichijouji, how many times did you test the drug inducing hallucinogen prior to its consumption by my client and others on Kiyone Kotetsu's birthday party on the 17th?" Asked the prosecuting attorney Rangiku Matsumoto.

I blinked. I looked around the courtroom and took in the obvious lack of something. What was it? Then it hit me.

"Before I answer that question Matsumoto, you do see the clear absence of testosterone within the courtroom?" I was such a smartass.

"Just answer the question, Seventh SeatDillon Ichijouji." Ouch. Coupled with the fact that she was flaunting her rank and them chesticles of hers, how could one not feel intimidated and not answer her question?

"Five times."

I knew I was guilty. Why in the name of everything that is holy to the SWA did I keep this up for? Simple. I did not, absolutely did not, like the punishment outlined in cases such as these. Then it hit me: this damn thing could keep on going day after day, but day after day Matsumoto would be getting more clients when others found themselves in the same situation as Hinamori, resulting in a more severe punishment. I saw Attorney Matsumoto forming the next question when I raise my hand to stop her.

"All right, all right. I admit I was wrong." What I had still failed to figure out was why everyone was so upset over this. Our monthly gifts were of no use: studies showed that the chances of pregnancy were close to nil. Why buy a sea monkey if it wont expand? The courtroom collectively gasped before it turned into what sounded like squealing.

"Let me get this straight: you're pleading guilty?" asked the resolute Nanao, pushing her glasses up after glancing at Nemu to make sure she was recording this as the SWA clerk.

"Yes," I responded, "I was wrong. Not innocent."

Nanao's eyes gleamed. "You do realize that because you pleaded guilty, you are to fulfill your punishment as outlined?"

"Yes."

I lifted an eyebrow at the audience and the jury. Why were they squealing? I could barely hear what Nanao was saying. I was reduced to reading her lips, but my concentration was broken when the Judge slammed her World History Encyclopedia on her podium. Did I mention she had no gavel?

Meh. As they always say: if you can't do the time, don't do the crime.

"Okay!" I said with a bit too much fake enthusiasm, "Where's the broom?" The punishment for this level of offense against a fellow SWA member, and for that matter, a senior SWA member was manual labor: clean the office floor of every Division that had a senior member, which accounted for about half the divisions of the Gotei 13. To make matters worse, the cleaning would have to be done during off hours, so that meant sacrificing my sleep to go scrub floors in the middle of the night.

"What broom?" asked a puzzled Nanao Ise.

I was confused. "You know the broom? The same broom I'll be using to clean the floors with?"

"Ohhhh…."

Matsumoto sniggered. Momo grinned. Nanao looked sympathetic.

"What's wrong?" Okay, I was getting worried-- where's my damn broom and when do I start?

"Actually, Prisoner 5126-"

"Wait, what? I'm a prisoner now?!" Momo's hysteria was infectious.

"To the SWA you are. That is, until you serve your time."

"And I take it was nothing to do with mopping 5th Division or scraping gum off the 10th Division floor, right?"

"No." explained Nanao. "It involves less manual labor. Truth be told, it involves close to no manual labor."

I raised an eyebrow. No manual labor? What kind of punishment was that? I should have expected the worst when Matsumoto reached into her bra (if she wore any) and tossed me a slightly warm camera.

"What the hell?"

"You," replied Judge Ise, ignoring my choice in words inside the courtroom, "are hereby appointed the official SWA photographer for next year's The Captains of the Gotei 13 calendar."

…

…

Aww… shitfuck.

A/N: So... how was it? I love including little real-life references into my writing, the title of the story for example. Do you know where it's from? If you can figure it out, I'll give you a cookie. Pinpoint the quote and I'll give you two cookies!