HALCYON DAYS
Volume One: Reap What You Soul
Chapter Five

Uryū darted through the alleyways on his way back to his family condominium, cursing himself for having strayed so far from home during his stroll.

If I can make it home before that monster catches me, I have things in the apartment that can kill it, he thought. He reached into his pocket, his fingers grasping three Gintō capsules. At least I have these on hand to discourage it. But I'm a sitting duck out here in the open.

He was turning onto a corner when he saw an encroaching shadow blot out the lamplight below his feet.

I didn't make it in time!

Uryū pivoted around and spotted Bloodmaw diving down from the shadows above. The Hollow's jaws opened wide, its tongue surging towards Uryū like a spear. The Quincy leapt aside, narrowly dodging the attack, and produced his three Gintō. He threw the capsules up like they were dice; the silver tubes flew straight into Bloodmaw's gaping mouth.

The Hollow landed onto the ground with a squish, the mouths on its back puckering and readying to spit out venom at Uryū point blank.

Uryū connected his hands together, flexing up two fingers.

"Strike, Grail Wind! Haizen!"

The three Gintō capsules in Bloodmaw's mouth harmonized their energy and erupted into an incandescent prism of light, the shape tearing out through the Hollow's jaw. The Menos let out a gurgled roar of pain, chunks of its flesh and teeth splattering the ground.

However, Bloodfang and Bloodgums were undeterred. The two heads spat their venom, the two wads splattering onto Uryū's chest. The Quincy instantly went into a spasm and fell flat onto his back.

He's got me, he thought resignedly. There was no use lamenting the inevitable.

He strained his eyes to catch sight of the Hollow. Bloodmaw whirled his primary face to reveal the bubbling of his exploded mouth: he was focusing all his energies into repairing the flesh and bone with high-speed regeneration. The beast was in no hurry; his prey was now completely defenseless.

Before true despair could settle in, Uryū's spotted something odd approaching from behind Bloodmaw: two silhouettes were bounding towards them in what looked like superhuman bunny hops.

Uryū recognized the shapes, but couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Is that Ichigo? No, wait... is that two Ichigos?!

"Dammit, I hate this!" Kon squealed with abject fright as he bounced closer and closer to Bloodmaw. He was carrying Ichigo in his arms, the Shinigami Deputy straining all of his atrophied muscles into holding Zangetsu like a downward missile.

"Launch us up as high as you can, Kon!" Ichigo ordered urgently. "We have to land right on top of him. We only got one shot at this!"

"Don't tell me that!" the Mod Soul wailed, touching down on the ground one last time before leaping back up into the air.

Both Bloodfang and Bloodgums, spotting the incoming attackers, began mewling for Bloodmaw's attention.

"Maw, behind! Behind!"

Bloodmaw, however, was hyper focused on the meal before him. His jaw was close to reconstructed, his eyes staring down at Uryū with ferocious glee. He needn't concern himself with the words of his vestigial heads – they would be subsumed into him eventually, anyway.

Ichigo and Kon reached the zenith of the night sky, their silhouettes caught by the glowing disk of the moon, before diving down right on top of Bloodmaw.

"I hate your guts, Kurosaki!" Kon screamed at the top of his lungs.

They landed right on top of the Menos, Zangetsu's wide blade spearing right through its cranium. Bloodmaw went instantly cross-eyed, dead as a doornail.

"No, no, no!" Bloodfang screamed out.

"He's dead, he's dead..." Bloodgums whimpered.

The two tiny mouths protested until their voices grew faint. Bloodmaw swiftly melted away, all of the souls bound into his monstrous body finally purified.

Kon let out an explosive exhale, shocked to have survived.

"Phew! Can't believe that actually worked. Let the record show that I did most of the work in that Hollow slaying."

Exhilarated, the Mod Soul struck a pose, forgetting to prop Ichigo up. The Shinigami Deputy, still paralyzed, tumbled over flat on his face with a heavy smack.

"Oh, whoops, sorry Ichigo..."

"You idiot! Help me back up!"

Uryū, in the thrall of bodily contortions, looked on in astonishment. He had been ready for many possibilities that night, but watching two Ichigos bicker with each other was not one of them.


Shunsui and Ukitake were both surprised when Yamamoto invited them to his private quarters shortly after Central 46 announced a new Jūsankentaikai. When they arrived, it became apparent that the Captain-Commander was flustered and wanted their counsel. Ukitake appreciated being in Genryūsai's confidence again. After all, the old man had tried to flambé them for treason just a few days beforehand.

"A Jūsankentaikai so soon is going to be costly, and a terrible distraction," Ukitake chimed in. "What could the Shisonka possibly be thinking?"

Yamamoto was pacing back and forth, pounding his cane against the ground with every step. Shunsui, meanwhile, leaned back in the Captain-Commander's favorite chair and let out a sigh.

"When a war breaks out, the nobility think it's a good time for bread and circuses," the Eight Company captain said drolly. "That's their response to most hardships."

"Who said you could sit there?" Yamamoto chided, thwacking him over the head with his gnarled cane.

"Ow, ow!" Shunsui winced, nursing the egg growing from his forehead. He sprung up from the chair and planted himself atop Yamamoto's desk instead, with a cheeky grin on his face.

"The little Shihōin pup isn't hard to figure out," he mused, as if nothing had happened. "He just wants to be in a big crowd and see some action. I don't blame him, the way his family keeps him locked away in that castle. Now, Ginrei... I'm thinking Ginrei only consented in exchange for the others not making any more fuss about Rukia's situation. Think I'm right?"

Ukitake nodded in agreement.

"Ginrei's always been a dutiful soldier," Shunsui noted. "I'd never expect him to plot the way Kōbucha and Tokinada do. It's those two I'm really wondering about: what's their angle?"

"Their motivations do not matter," Yamamoto said dismissively. "When the Shisonka make up their minds, it is our duty to see their wishes fulfilled. We must make the most of this situation."

Shunsui and Ukitake exchanged an awkward look. They could tell Old Man Yama was frustrated beyond description. After all, he himself had inadvertently created the Jūsankentaikai...

Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto had commanded the Seireitei's military for close to a thousand years, having founded the latest incarnation of the Gotei. When he took up the mantle of Captain-Commander, he and his close band of compatriots filled out most of the thirteen slots. They were never able to find a suitable candidate for the thirteenth captaincy, and so a couple decades later they staged a tournament to decide who would win the role.

The competition provided some escapist spectacle for Soul Society during an era of great upheaval, but it was intended for utilitarian purposes. Ironically, the first Jūsankentaikai's victor declined the reward of captaincy; that thirteenth slot went on to be unoccupied for decades afterwards. Even so, the damage was done: the Shisonka co-opted the tournament as a centennial pastime to keep the rabble entertained.

Almost the entirety of Yamamoto's original Gotei 13 had died since then, some from battle and the rest from old age. The natural lifespan for a Soul was about 500 years while a strong Shinigami often reached a 1,500 years in age; only those with an inordinate amount of Reiryoku lived longer beyond that. Yamamoto was slightly over 2,000 years old, making him one of the longest-living persons ever recorded in Soul Society history. And he showed no signs of slowing down, his stately manner notwithstanding.

Shunsui and Ukitake watched the old man wrestle with all of that historical baggage. They had only seen him this vulnerable a handful of times over the centuries of being by his side.

"This would all be easier if I had any inclination of Aizen's aim," Yamamoto admitted. "The Arrancar were obliterated eons ago because of their attempts to invade the Seireitei. Surely he's not stupid enough to think it will work this time?"

Ukitake crossed his arms and recalled Aizen's parting words to him when the traitor escaped to Hueco Mundo.

No one ever stood atop the heavens before. Not you, or I, or the gods. But the unbearable vacancy of heaven's throne ends now. From now on, I will stand at the top.

"Perhaps Aizen intends to assassinate the Soul King?" Ukitake concluded with a grim expression. The possibility was horrific to even contemplate.

"Then he is even more foolish than I thought!" Yamamoto guffawed. "He has no means of reaching the Royal Realm, and even if he somehow entered the palace he would be swiftly obliterated by Squad Zero."

"Even so, I don't like the prospect of waiting around for him to make his move," Ukitake continued. "Whatever his intentions, I don't believe he will launch a direct assault against Soul Society. His strategy will be more subtle and insidious."

"Well, how about Mayuri's proposal, then?" Shunsui broached. "We surprise Aizen with a counterattack; it's better than just sitting around waiting for him to build his forces."

"Even if Captain Kurotsuchi succeeds in accomplishing the impossible and constructs a Garganta, it will take time," Yamamoto mused. "Soul Society's best minds have succeeded in creating a Garganta only once, and it took them decades."

"Yes, but we're just waiting either way," Shunsui countered. "The truth is, we don't have any way of reaching Aizen yet. We'll either develop the capability or he'll come to us first. In the meantime, we might as well give the people what they want and put on a helluva show, eh?"

Ukitake and Yamamoto both cast Shunsui a loaded look, admiring his impish ability to find the silver lining in every shit situation.

"The tournament could be useful for getting our lieutenants in fighting shape," Ukitake nodded. "Meanwhile, I recommend that every captain undergo Reikinbaku-ito training. It's been years since we faced a credible threat; we need to rebuild our strength from the ground up."

"Yes," Yamamoto nodded. "Yes, every captain shall undergo Reikinbaku-ito while their subordinates prepare for the Jūsankentaikai. Within a week's time, our soldiers will be in peak condition and ready for whatever Aizen throws at us. Do your companies have their champions, yet?"

"Well, I think Nanao-chan's probably gonna compete," Shunsui answered. "I'm not sure she even qualifies, given that she doesn't have a Zanpakutō, but if she's allowed to fight then I don't see anyone beating her."

"We haven't decided who will represent the Thirteenth Division yet," Ukitake said glumly. "Ideally, Rukia would fight on our behalf. She's the best fighter under my command, but she is still recuperating her spirit energy, and... well, she isn't a seated officer. So it is between our Third Seats, Kotetsu or Kotsubaki."

Yamamoto nodded politely nib response.

Neither of their divisions stand a chance of winning the tournament, he thought. Good. It will be a humbling experience for them.

"Very good," the Captain-Commander said. "You are both dismissed."

"Sure thing, Old Man," Shunsui said, hopping off of the desk with a sly smile. "We're here for tea time whenever you –"

Yamamoto thrust his cane against Shunsui's chest, stopping him cold.

"A word of warning to the both of you," the Captain-Commander seethed, casting a rueful glare at his pupils. "If you force me to cross blades with you ever again, I will not be as merciful."

"Yes sir, we understand," Ukitake nodded, blushing pink.

With that, the two captains scurried out of Yamamoto's chambers like a pair of students fleeing the principle's office.

"I hadn't realized he was going easy on us when we fought," Ukitake confessed to Shunsui as they made their way down out of the First Division barracks.

"Oh, I always knew," Shunsui chuckled. "No matter how many times the Old Man threatens to kill us, his heart ain't in it."


"Okay... and... done!" Uryū announced, biting off the leftover yarn from his sowing needle.

He had finished fixing Kon's lion doll vessel. Kon inspected himself, horrified that he had been prettified with a bonnet and embroidered flowers.

Uryū sat back in the chair, pushing up his glasses and giving a nod of satisfaction.

"Perfect."

"Are you blind?!" Kon roared, smacking Uryū across the face with a plushie paw. "Who asked for frills? I just wanted it the way it was!"

"I added my personal touch!"

"Your personal touch? You gave me a mane of lace! I'm a lion, not a Southern Belle!"

Ichigo, back in his human body, watched the two bicker from his bed. He felt a mixture of amusement and relief: it was nice of Uryū to fix Kon's plushie immediately after regaining his faculties as a way of thanking them.

"OK, OK, I'll fix you just the way you want," Uryū pleaded, shielding his face. "Just please stop smacking me. Your punches are more annoying than painful, you know."

Ichigo heard a rap a the window and looked over. To his surprise, Zennosuke Kurumadani was on the other side of the pane, motioning for him to slide it open. The Strawberry semi-complied, only partially cracking open the window.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Just wanted to say... that was some quick thinking back there," Zennosuke nodded admiringly. "I'm still the elite in this district, but I'm glad you're around keeping these streets safe, too."

Ichigo smiled.

"Thanks, Afro-san."

Zennosuke frowned. Before he could berate Ichigo for getting his name wrong yet again, the Strawberry shut the window closed.