HALCYON DAYS
Volume Two: Retrograde Masquerade
Chapter One
Yoruichi Shihōin slinked her elegantly muscled leg up from the water and began to toe the bathtub faucet, absentmindedly wiggling her digit against its cavernous mouth while it eked out droplets. She let out a purring yawn and rested her head back against Kisuke Urahara, her moist mane draping across his chest.
"So he has the power to manipulate all five senses, huh?" Urahara sighed, processing the intel Yoruichi had just relayed to him from her adventure in Soul Society. "Well that explains a lot. He said five senses? Those exact words?"
"That's what he told Ichigo," Yoruichi confirmed, reaching back to playfully pat his green-and-white-striped shower cap. "When his Shikai is activated, he becomes practically invincible...if already you've seen its release."
"That would apply to anyone worth a damn in the Gotei 13, including us," Urahara said. "He's..."
"Worse than you thought?"
"... Exactly what I feared."
"Y'know, for such a smart guy, you really could have picked a better hiding place for the Hōgyoku than Kuchiki Byakuya's little sister," Yoruichi mused. "You should have known Soul Society would come looking for her, with or without spiritual powers."
"That's exactly why I planted it on her," Urahara clarified. "It was the only way to get the ball rolling."
Yoruichi scrunched up her face in confusion for a moment and then looked back at him with scalding disapproval.
"You knowingly risked Aizen getting his hands on the Hōgyoku?"
"Aizen was coming for it sooner than later; dispatching a Hollow to Kurosaki's home made that abundantly clear. What should I have done? Waited patiently to make my final stand here, in my humble shop? Aizen would likely pry the Hōgyoku from my cold, dead hands, and his true intentions would remain hidden from the Soul Society. I could have accepted that inevitability, or I could cause a ruckus in the Seireitei that would force him to publicly reveal himself."
"Well now he has it. Great plan, genius."
"I was hoping he wouldn't make off with it, but it was only a matter of time anyway. I know you think of me as some kind of badass stud –~which I am~ – but I couldn't keep Aizen away from the Hōgyoku forever, especially without any concrete knowledge of his abilities. So I stowed it inside Rukia and set Ichigo on a much-needed collision course with the Gotei 13. And that worked out great, didn't it? Wouldn't you say they've brought out the best in each other?"
"The boy nearly died several times over."
"Which is why I sent you to chaperone him, my fuzzy little troublemaker..."
Yoruichi could feel Urahara slide his hands around her thighs beneath the bubbly bathwater. She gave him a rueful look and slid out from the tub, soaked in suds. Urahara squinted up at her, trying to spot her silhouette hidden beneath the foam.
"I'm afraid your time is up, greedy boy," she huffed, sauntering over to the mirror to primp herself. "You only get one day every 10 years, remember? This is still only casual."
"Such a heartbreaker," Urahara whined, theatrically bringing his hands up to his chest. He went stiff, pretending to die from heartbreak, and slid underneath the soapy water. The tub was placid for a moment, then became a roiling cauldron as his air bubbles rose up to mingle with the foam.
Yoruichi reached in and hauled him up by the suction of his shower cap, glaring at him nose-to-nose.
"So you instigated chaos just to share your burden with the rest of the world?" she sternly observed. "Fine. You got what you wanted. But the responsibility of fixing this still rests on you. Ichigo is just a boy, he can't stop Aizen by himself. So start putting that wicked little mind of yours to work."
She planted an affectionate kiss on his cheek before dunking his head back underwater and leaving to go dry off. Urahara lingered beneath the suds, lost in rumination.
Yasutora Sado's alarm clock sounded out a punishing peal. It was 4 a.m.
He rose up groggily from bed and furiously rubbed his temples to spur himself awake.
I could just slam my fist down on my alarm, silence it, and return to my dream, he thought, feeling very tempted to follow through. But that would be the coward's way out.
He slunk out from his bed and went to brush his teeth. After he had thoroughly sudsed his choppers, he patted his face fresh with faucet water and strode out into his kitchen. He swung open the refrigerator and withdrew four brown eggs.
One by one, Chad cracked each egg against the drinking glass and emptied their yolk inside. When finished, he plucked up the cup and swirled it until the contents mixed into a golden elixir. He threw it back and gulped down the yolks in one swig.
I thank you for your bounty, chickens and hens, he thought reverently.
Satiated, he zipped up his hoodie, a powder blue striped with a marigold flame pattern, and headed out into the morning fog. He jogged for six full blocks... until reaching his destination.
Takashi Murakami hovered his mouth close to the tiny fan whirring away on the counter, feeling profoundly bored. He bared his teeth and growled into the blower, his voice rumbling with distortion. Rail thin, balding, and with a wisp of gray hair shadowing his lip, the shopkeeper was a proud man far past his prime.
"I am the mountain king!" he purred, amused by how his voice traveled into the blades and scattered like spilled grain.
"You're going to be the king of a vacant lot if we don't start making some profits again!" Harumi Murakami, his wife, shouted from the backroom. "I told you we should advertise the new rice cakes."
The long-married couple were the proprietors of the once-prosperous corner shop. Their modest establishment used to be the number one destination in the neighborhood before a string of 7-Elevens opened up and started crowding out their business. Nowadays, they were struggling just to get by.
"The new rice cakes taste like styrofoam," Takashi sighed before blowing a raspberry into the fan. "We've gone hours without a soul in this shop, my love. We are alone on this here mountaintop!"
"People who hang around the mountaintop for too long tend to die," Harumi muttered.
She was sitting in her office, studiously crunching numbers on a chunky calculator. She was a stout woman with a round face and sunken eyes, beaten down by years of financial stress. She shook her head in annoyance before taking a deep cigarette drag.
Takashi heard the shopkeeper bell jingle. He looked up, recognizing a familiar face.
"Sado?" he said. "Sado the Gigante?"
Chad drew back his hoodie, wavy bangs drooping over the left side of his face. His right eye gazed at Mr. Murakami with purposeful drive.
"Good morning, Takashi-san," he said, bowing his head eruditely.
"Dont'cha mean good evening?" Takashi laughed. "Awfully late to start craving a snack, eh?"
"I'm not here to eat," Chad replied. "I was wondering if –"
Harumi peeked out from the back room and saw Chad, recognizing him immediately. She let out a yelp of disapproval and seized a broom.
"Oh, it's you!" she shouted derisively, brandishing her sweeper. "I remember you. Brought absolutely nothing but trouble, you and that orange-haired punk friend of yours. We don't want your business!"
"Beggars can't be choosers, my love!" Takashi pleaded, using all of his limbs interchangeably to suppress his wife's charge of attack. "Sado's money is as good as anybody's."
"I'm sorry for all of the commotion Ichigo and I brought to your shop over the years, Harumi-san," Chad said softly. "Please recall that we never started any of those fights."
"But you sure finished them, didn't cha?!" Harumi scoffed. "Trouble always followed you two, like a curse. We banned you, but your curse remained! Well, if you're gonna buy something, fork over the money and be off."
"I didn't come here to purchase anything," Chad admitted. "I came here to see if the gamestill works."
Harumi and Takashi both raised their brows, immediately catching his drift.
"Nobody's played it in ages, but it still oughta fire up," Takashi said, gesturing to the corner of the cramped shop.
Chad looked past the shelf of junk treats and spotted a dusty arcade machine. The marquee was lined with soot, but the name was clear:
INVADERS MUST DIE
Chad reached into his pocket and produced a small trove of coins.
"I'd like to practice," he said.
"Oh no you don't!" Harumi harrumphed, brandishing her broom again. "You think you can just march back in here, when we're nearly destitute, and loiter around? This is a place of business, you hooligan!"
"How much are those rice cakes?" Chad asked, pointing to the ornately stacked tower of Mochi bars arranged at the center of the store. They were all BBQ flavored.
"100-yen a pop," Takashi replied, a grin spreading across his skeletal face.
Chad reached into his back pocket and produced a wad of cash.
"I have enough for about 20 today," he said. "Does that help you two?"
Harumi turned red in the face, knowing she couldn't refuse the offer. She let out an aggravated sigh of defeat.
"Just keep quiet while you're here," she relented. "I don't want you scaring away any other potential customers."
Keeping quiet is my specialty, Chad thought.
He purchased 2,000 yen's worth of crummy Mochi bars, stacked them beside the arcade machine, and began appraising the old tower. Aside from needing a dusting, it was reasonably well-preserved, with everything in its proper place. Chad wiped his palm across the marquee, polishing those dulled letters back to a brilliant red.
INVADERS MUST DIE
However, the monitor showed no signs of life. Chad kneeled down and discovered that the game was unplugged – a cost-cutting measure to curb the electricity bill. He connected the cord into the power outlet and rose back to his full height.
Takashi watched from the register, unable to hide his anticipation.
Suddenly, the monitor burst into colorful life, emitting a chintzy synth chime. The title flashed across the screen, followed by a pixelated Hayabusa fighter plane flying across a blue ocean with shabbily rendered clouds floating on by.
Chad drew a 50-yen piece and slotted it through the coin door, listening to the nostalgic clink it made. He grasped the joystick and roved his fingers across the buttons, testing their responsiveness. The monitor's glow bathed his determined face in blue light.
Time to train.
It was the morning after Ichigo slew the Gillian Menos named Bloodmaw. The victory was already forgotten; in its place was Ichigo's growing concern for Uryū's safety.
The Strawberry sat in class with chin in hand. He was lost in thought while the new kid wrote their name on the blackboard. The weird-looking exchange student narrated while scribbling his name out in Kanji.
"There's 'Hei' as in 'flat-footed'... the 'Ko' from 'Imoko Onono,' that old politician... 'Shin' as in genuine, and... 'Ko' as in Cod Roe... Throw it all together and you get Shinji Hirako."
The newbie tossed the chalk to their teacher, Misato Ochi, and gave a dramatic bow before the class.
"Well, um... thank you, Shinji!" Miss Ochi remarked, studying the detailed Kanji scrawled on the blackboard. "You do realize it's backwards, right?"
"It's one of the my talents, amas-Otasim," Shinji said cheekily.
"Is that right?" Misato blushed, not sure whether to be flattered or creeped out to have her name and honorific reversed. "Well, just remember not to answer your quizzes like that and we'll be good. Now, why don't you tell us a little about yourself?"
Ichigo wasn't paying attention, deep in thought about the ramifications of Uryū losing his Quincy powers.
It's not just that he's vulnerable now... it bugs me that I can't fight alongside him again, he thought. That jerk had to go and fight Captain Kurotsuchi and use everything he had against him. He sacrificed his powers to help us save Rukia. And now I can't best his smug face in Hollow hunting ever again. It's like I've lost an ally and a rival. Wait... is it messed up that I think that? –
"Hey there!" Shinji backslapped Ichigo out of nowhere, plunking down right next to him. "I guess we're neighbors, huh? Hope we can be friends as well, Ichigo."
"Huh?" The Strawberry mumbled. "Oh, sure. Nice to meet you...?"
"Hirako Shinji – that's my name on the board," Shinji pointed out.
Miss Ochi was already rubbing the reversed Kanji off with a dry eraser. Shinji glowered at the sight of his work getting wiped away.
"Wait, how'd you know my name?" Ichigo asked.
"Miss Ochi said it when she told me to sit next to ya," Shinji replied nonchalantly. "What, were you not paying attention?"
"Guess not," Ichigo grumbled, feeling very called out.
Tatsuki watched from several desks over, her suspicion spiking. She had been paying attention the whole time: Miss Ochi never mentioned Ichigo's name. She also told Shinji to sit wherever he wanted, but he passed over a handful of empty seats to make his way straight to Ichigo.
What's with this guy? she wondered, scrutinizing the newbie. How old is he? He looks like he could be 14 or 40.
Shinji was an odd-looking fellow with a thin face, angular chin and the biggest, toothiest smile this side of dentistry. His egg yolk blonde hair was cut in a childlike bowl; it was the most hideous hairdo Tatsuki had ever seen. Add some lederhosen and he'd look like a rejected extra from The Sound of Music.
HOLLOW! HOLLOW!
Ichigo flinched when his Shinigami Deputy badge began sounding out another Hollow alarm. He snatched the spiritual pager off from his belt and rattled it around until it finally stopped beeping.
"Are you doing okay over there, Ichigo?" Miss Ochi asked, looking agitatedly up from her lesson plan.
Ichigo realized that everyone in class was staring at him. Nobody could see or hear his Shinigami Deputy badge except for Orihime, Chad, Uryū, and possibly Tatsuki, so it looked like he had just spazzed out over nothing.
"I'm fine, Ms. Ochi," he blushed. "Please... continue?"
"Why thank you, I will," Miss Ochi harrumphed, resuming her lecture.
Ichigo wanted to dive under his desk and hide from embarrassment. He realized the night before that it was untenable for him to skip class every time there was a new Hollow alert. There were only so many bathroom breaks he could take before people would start wondering if he had IBS or something.
So he struck up a deal with the patrolman Zennosuke Kurumadani: the Afro Shinigami would take the first crack at Hollows during school hours, but Ichigo could intervene if the threat proved unmanageable. Ichigo didn't sense any notable Reiatsu nearby, so he figured Zennosuke could probably handle this one. However, there wasn't any way to mute the badge itself when it sounded the alarm. Most people couldn't hear it, but it was still anxiety-inducing.
Ichigo was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Shinji staring at him intently. The newbie leaned back in his chair and cracked a smile.
