HALCYON DAYS
Volume Four: Thirteen Blades

Chapter One

The taiko drummers resumed their furious beat, filling the coliseum with cacophonous fanfare. Rukon spectators seated in the rafters began to mimic the drummers' rhythm by stomping their feet, sending pulsating reverberations down through the lower levels.

Audience members seated closer to the arena, all of them residents of the Seireitei, felt the tremors and cast scornful looks up at the rabble, insulted by their enthusiastic lack of decorum.

The upper crowd's whooping only intensified when Chiwa Kikazu approached the arena.

"Oh my, there he is!" Rangiku squealed with delight, reflexively bouncing her bosom. Hisagi shot a nervous look her way.

Chiwa was the most famous entertainer in Soul Society, known for his exquisite beauty and sumptuous singing voice. After washing out of Shin'ō Academy, he found work as an attendant to House Ise and won enough favor to become Kōbucha's personal taikomochi, a role he flourished in going on a century.

Over time, he became a recurring master of ceremonies in the Seireitei, his enchanting good looks and musical talents winning him widespread notoriety. His growing repertoire of responsibilities now included emceeing and refereeing the Jūsankentaikai.

The genteel taikomochi had a windswept mane of golden hair, his eyes an incandescent amber with flecks of turquoise. His elfin features were supported by a strongly sculpted jaw, with a plush set of pillowy lips giving him a perpetual pout. Tall and lean, he cut a dashing figure in his form-fitting Shihakushō and tulip-colored haori, with the Ise crest of sika deer antlers embroidered with golden thread along the sleeves.

After taking his sweet time arriving at the center of the ring, Chiwa gave the crowd an ostentatious bow, prompting cries of adulation from many a young lady in the audience. Admiring the jester's poise from the second row, Yumichika discretely bit his lower lip.

Chiwa brought the microphone to his pillowy mouth and spoke, only for a corrupted warble sounded out. After a pause, he adjusted the instrument's cord and cleared his throat.

I'm gonna have to punish whichever Twelfth Company goon hooked up this confounded thing.

"Good morning, one and all," he tried again, his silky voice now carrying throughout the coliseum with perfect clarity. "It is my profound honor to officiate this noble contest of brawn and skill, brought to you by the Shisonka's generosity."

He did not speak above a whisper, allowing the mic to amplify his utterances into a booming lilt that sent shivers through thousands of attendees' spines. His voice had a practiced suppleness, attesting to his renown as a singer.

"For those of you who have never attended a Jūsankentaikai before, allow me to note some important safety measures," he continued. "Posted around this entire perimeter are elite members of our Kidō Corps, who will maintain a protective barrier whenever our grand contestants are engaged in battle."

He extended his arm to give a sweeping gesture towards the dozens of Kidō practitioners seated in meditative postures along the arena grounds, plunked down in the sand right below the stadium's first row seating.

"Their combined prowess will be able to repel even the most vicious Hollow," Chiwa explained with a saucy shimmy of his shoulders. "Whatever magnificent techniques are thrown around this battlefield today, none of them shall reach you. Enjoy the spectacle without any worry, my friends."

Are we really just proceeding with this charade like nothing's wrong? Hitsugaya grimaced while dutifully flanking Yūshirō Shihōin's throne. He glanced over to the young Tenrai-chō, who was bouncing up and down in excitement. Well at least he's happy.

"Please pay due reverence to our inaugural competitors!" Chiwa continued. "Hailing from one of the wealthiest families in the Seireitei, the distinguished Commander of the Onmitsukidō's Patrol Corps, and Lieutenant of the Second Division... please welcome Ōmaeda Marechiyo Yoshiayamenosuke Nikkōtarōemon!"

"Aw, sweet!" Ōmaeda cackled when the audience broke into applause. "That pretty boy had the good taste to say my full name."

"Stop gloating and get up there!" Suí-Fēng hissed, giving him a swift kick in the butt.

The towering lieutenant adjusted his sash and ambled up onto the stage, waving to the crowd. He spotted his ecstatic groupies.

I'm gonna get a promotion AND a wife outta this. Things are looking up for Marechiyo!

"And in this corner, a blessed member of the Ise bloodline, Lieutenant of the Eighth Division... let's hear it for Ise Nanao!" Chiwa announced.

Nanao stood frozen, her fist clenched tight.

What can I do? This new prize of the Jūsankentaikai was officially issued by Central 46, but it was clearly Kōbucha Ise's doing. Her aunt had rigged this game to give her an unlikely opening to become a captain. It was a perversion of the Gotei 13's chain of command and longstanding laws.

She took a big gulp, gave Shunsui an inscrutable look, and began to slow walk up onto the arena. Her captain's words were echoing in her ears.

Whatever you want to do, Nanao-chan.

She brought her foot up onto the elevated tile only to freeze up, uncertain over whether to take another step. Her hesitancy was not lost on the crowd.

"Hey, what's up with Nanao?" Yumichika muttered to Ikkaku. "Doesn't she know this whole tournament's being served to her on a plate?"

Renji furrowed his brow and leaned forward in his seat, trying to read her expression to no avail.

What's she thinking?

"Lieutenant Ise?" Chiwa said uncertainly, shooting her an expectant look.

Soon enough, the entire stadium fell into a confused silence.

"What's wrong with that woman?" Ganju wondered, squinting at the hesitant dot that hovered by the arena's edge. "Is she scared?"

"No," Kūkaku replied, examining Nanao's expression through the magnifying eye of her spyglass.

Nanao looked up at the House Ise loge and caught her aunt's icy glare, recognizing the bristling disapproval. Same as it ever was. There was no love in those imperious eyes, only expectation.

She looked back at Shunsui and beheld his soft, supportive smile.

"I must respectfully decline!"

First there were confused murmurs, then a smattering of gasps rippled throughout the stadium.

"She's forfeiting?!" Kiyone murmured incredulously. "To Ōmaeda?!"

"Come again, Lieutenant Ise?" Chiwa asked with a bemused look.

"I must respectfully decline," Nanao repeated before breaking into an involuntary laugh. "I am recusing myself from this competition."

She turned around and marched back towards Shunsui's side, struggling to maintain poise.

Did I... did I scare her off? Ōmaeda's jaw dropped onto the ground while he watched her retreat.

"What a loser!" one Rukon cried out.

The stadium started to rumble with angry boos.

"COWARD!" a chorus began to chant.

"Has she lost her mind?" Yumichika gawked. "What in blazes is she doing?"

"She's showing integrity," Ikkaku smiled approvingly. "She's a noble, and the nobility rigged this game to stick it to the Captain-Commander. By quitting–"

"She's undercutting her aunt's machinations," Rangiku concurred. "Nanao would rather look like a coward before this entire audience than be the lynchpin of some Shisonka plot to put one of their own in the Gotei 13. What a doll!"

"I misjudged her," Hisagi admitted. "She's got a lot of stomach, don't you think?"

He turned to Kira, who looked surprisingly grim.

While Ukitake and Unohana watched Nanao with silent admiration, Tenrai-chō Kōbucha was pink with fury. After fanning herself at an increasingly erratic rate, she snapped her uchiwa shut and ripped it in half. Tossing the the remnants aside, she looked over at her Shikōtai Guard, Rurisa.

"Go fetch my niece and bring her to me," she ordered, voice like flint sparking into flame. "And do not let that man come with her."

Chiwa twirled his microphone patiently while letting the boos coming from the crowd settle down into a simmer.

"In an unexpected turn of events, Lieutenant Ise has chosen to recuse herself from this tournament," he reiterated. "But never fear, dear spectators – this match will continue!

"In the event of a challenger stepping down, their division will be represented by the next available officer. Fortunately, we have the Third Seat of the Eighth Division here with us today..."

"I hope I didn't embarrass you, Captain." Nanao looked up at Shunsui queasily.

"Quite the opposite, Nanao-chan."

"Well, at least our division will carry on in the tournament," she offered. "Enjōji won't win outright, but he is a capable fighter –"

"Oh, Enjōji won't be your replacement," Shunsui chuckled, pinching the rim of his hat and lowering it over his eyes.

Nanao grew suspicious: he always did that gesture whenever he anticipated her disapproval.

"What do you mean?"

"I demoted him to Fourth Seat after the Ryoka defeated him with such ease," Shunsui said coyly. "Well, that may be too harsh a way of putting it. I like to think of it less as a demotion for Enjōji and more as a promotion for a very deserving officer. I figured our ranks could use some sprucing up..."

He couldn't. Nanao's eyes widened in mortification. He wouldn't!

"Not her, Captain!" she cried. "Don't tell me you promoted –?!"

Her protestation was drowned out by Chiwa's latest announcement.

"Subbing in for Lieutenant Ise, the freshly appointed Third Seat of the Eighth Division... please welcome Yayahara Yuyu!"

"Who?" Renji mumbled. Never heard of her.

"Oh my," Isane blushed. "This'll be interesting..."

Nanao, aghast, looked over to the arena entrance and spotted a figure emerging from the shadowy hallway.

"Rawr, raaaaaawr, rau roo woooooo..." a nasal voice sang out from the darkness.

It can't be!

Suddenly, the silhouette bounded out from the crevice and latched onto Nanao, nuzzling her face with sisterly affection.

"Ahhhh, you look so kawaii, Nanao-pyon!" Yuyu giggled, her rump wagging behind her while she rubbed her nose against Nanao's flustered cheeks. "Thank you ~so~ much for entrusting this job to me! Cheer me on, wonchu?"

Nanao shot a volcanically disapproving look at Shunsui. He responded with a sly smile and a shrug.

Yuyu hopped off of Nanao and bowed before Shunsui's feet, her upturned backside continuing to wag like an excited dog.

"Oh, Cap'n Kyōraku-chii!" she greeted demurely, her eyes sparkling. "I'mma be a star today, just for you!"

"Very good," Shunsui nodded. "Just be yourself up there, Yuyu-chan."

"What is that garish creature?" Kōbucha frowned at the new contender from her throne, steam practically firing from her ears.

Ukitake stifled a knowing laugh.

"Is that really Yayahara?" Tetsuzaemon murmured, lowering his sunglasses to get a better look. "I haven't seen her since her Academy days. She looks… different."

"You mean she wasn't always dressed like a clown?" Kira said sourly.

"Yuyu was a fairly meek girl when she joined the Eighth Division," Rangiku recalled. "Very quiet, shy even. But after a patrol in District 2800, she was never the same again."

"District 2800?!" Kira repeated, recognizing the station.

District 2800, otherwise known as downtown Tokyo, was infamous for corrupting impressionable young Shinigami. Kira was scared to death of the place.

That's where good behavior and style go to die.

"OK OK OK, here we go!" Yuyu giggled, blowing a kiss at her captain before launching forward with something akin to a bunny hop, sailing 20 yards through the air before daintily landing atop the stage.

Ōmaeda stared at the Third Seat with complete befuddlement: Yuyu was a young woman with a dark spray-on tan, her bottle blonde hair bunched into a thick ponytail with a set of bangs fringing her circular face, the ends dyed a punky violet. She had big, rose-colored eyes with a mischievous glint, her hint of buck teeth giving the appearance of teeny tiny fangs.

Her outfit showed no modesty, with her Shihakushō shorn at the midriff to fit as a crop top and miniskirt, her arms encased in airy sleeves and ankles slotted into stockings.

"Hai!" Yuyu called out to him, flashing a peace sign before swiveling around to give the entire stadium an exaggerated courtesy.

This is Nanao's replacement? Ōmaeda thought. This... is... PERFECT!

He couldn't believe his good fortune: instead of facing Kyōraku's pupil, he was matched up instead with a total clown who had just been promoted.

Nanao, watching Yuyu peacock before all of Soul Society, felt like she might just vomit.

"Her demeanor is absolutely disgraceful," she muttered. "I can't believe you'd subject our reputation to her showboating, Captain."

"Keep an open mind, Nanao-chan," Shunsui replied. "I think Yuyu-chan's rather cute."

"That's because you're a letch!" Nanao shot back.

"Are both fighters ready for battle?" Chiwa asked with a hint of apprehension. It felt as though the inaugural match would never get off the ground.

Ōmaeda and Yuyu each gave a nod.

"Very good! Let the Jūsankentaikai begin!"

Right on cue, the Kidō Corps members planted their palms onto the sand and mingled their individual Reiatsus into a cohesive whole. A translucent dome veined with gold sprung up and cohered around the field, insulating the arena with a barrier.

Chiwa hopped off of the arena stage and trotted over to a discrete corner where a pair of Kidō practitioners summoned a small barrier exclusively for him. This glass box better hold up under pressure, he thought while poking at the shield. Kōbucha-sama would be displeased if I scuffed up my hair.

"You gonna draw your sword, hussy?" Ōmaeda tucked his thumbs into his sash and chuckled at Yuyu.

She looked askance, as if stung by the comment, only to burst into a toothy giggle.

"Me, a hussy?" she beamed. "Why thank you, that's so ukepii! Squeee, I'm so excited! Aren't you?"

"Hardly," Ōmaeda turned stern, squatting into a sumo stance. "I take no pleasure in roughing up girls. I promise to be a gentleman, but you better draw your Zanpakutō."

"Oh, this little old thang?" Yuyu hummed, unfastening the katana slung around her waist. With a giggle, she tossed the sword over her shoulder, scabbard and all. The weapon flipped in the air before planting into the sand a yard away from Shunsui and Nanao.

Absolutely disgraceful. Nanao looked on in disgust at the katana. The hilt was hot pink and bejeweled with tacky stars made from plastic.

"Are you nuts?" Ōmaeda gawped, giving a baffled look at the discarded sword.

"I don't think I'll be needing my Zan today," Yuyu shrugged. She batted her eyelashes, prompting Ōmaeda to simultaneously blush and grit his teeth. "How about you draw your sword instead, mistah? You're gonna need it, after all."

"Grand idea!" Ōmaeda cackled, grasping the handle of Gegetsuburi and drawing it out with an impatient flash.

"Pulverize that harlot, Ōmaeda-san!" one of his groupies cried out from the stands. "Crush that trollop and then come marry me!" another chimed in.

He let out a triumphant roar and stampeded towards Yuyu with his katana held high. Once he was within a yard, he brought his sword down with crushing force, only to cleave through empty air. His blade thwacked impotently against the tile.

Huh?!

"Yoo-hoo!" Yuyu called cooed from behind him. Ōmaeda whirled around, only to be blinded by a flash. He threw up a hand, fearful that she had unleashed a Kidō spell.

Yuyu's Fuji-film instant camera popped out a fresh picture. She plucked the negative out from the slot and began waving it, looking back at Ōmaeda with a puppyish look.

"Aww, you didn't smile, Ōmaeda-nyan!" she pouted. "Should we take another one?"

The burly lieutenant nearly dropped his katana in sheer befuddlement.

"You're snapping… selfies?!" he cried indignantly before swiping his blade clean across her. Yuyu hopped up and landed her sandals atop his outstretched blade while continuing to wave her photo like an uchiwa.

"You wanna take another one?" she asked before giving a bug-eyed grin. "I want us together on the front cover of next month's Seireitei Communication!"

Ōmaeda, sputtering in mortification, wagged his sword around to shake her off. She clung on like a cat before deigning to spring off with a backflip and landing four yards away.

"What's taking so long, wu wu?" she complained, blowing on her polaroid a couple times to make the image bloom fully to life.

"The hell is up with this broad?" Ōmaeda huffed. So she's shifty, huh? Then I'll just smash her with overwhelming force!

"Crush, Gegetsuburi!" he roared, his Zanpakutō illuminating and refashioning into a spiked ball and chain. His lips upturned into a mean grin while clutched the bulbous flail between his hands.

"Ooh, I lurve it!" Yuyu blushed, her eyes widening into awe-struck rainbows. "That looks so cute!"

"Can it, hussy!" Õmaeda howled, heaving his Zanpakutō like a shot put and hurling it forth. Yuyu grinned at the incoming cannon ball and waited until it came within a yard before neatly scooting to the side, cleanly evading the attack.

While the chain surged past, she maneuvered her camera into a close-up selfie while the links rippled behind in a blur. Shooting up a peace sign, she gave a wink and lolled her tongue out before snapping a pic.

Ōmaeda snatched the end of his chain and gave it a fierce tug, making the iron ball snap back. Yuyu, none too rushed, plucked out the second polaroid from her camera and began fanning it while the spiked ball came surging back from behind her. When the sphere was within three yards, she nonchalantly tucked her two polaroids between her teeth, flung her camera into the air, and bounded up after it. Ōmaeda's flail whipped by underneath, narrowly missing her.

Suspended up in the air and gazing downward, Yuyu held out her hands and crooked them into claws, her rainbow-colored fingernails forming an open jaw. Her eyes gleamed with excitement when Gegetsuburi's sphere came within her sights.

"Rawr."

She smashed her hands together, fingers intermeshing. Suddenly, the roaring head of a Brown Bear bore down on the ball, chomping it in a pulverizing bite.

Gegetsuburi landed against the tile with a deafening thud, decapitated from its tether.

"W-what…?" Ōmaeda mumbled, his Zanpakutō returning to him a broken chain.

Yuyu landed back down onto the spiked ball, followed shortly by her camera. She caught the Fuji-film, took another selfie with Ōmaeda's stunned face as a backdrop, and turned to give the entire stadium a curtsy. The audience responded with thunderous cheers.

"Wu wu wu, thank you," she blushed.

She broke Gegetsuburi… like it was a toy? Ōmaeda's eyes widened with dumbfounded terror. What the hell is she?!

"It looks like I snipped your Zan, Ōmaeda-nyan," Yuyu said innocently, her toes tapping on Gegetsuburi's severed sphere. "Aren't you gonna surrender, meow?"

"I... I..." Ōmaeda quivered, shocked to his core. "I…"

"Don't give up, Ōmaeda-san!" a chorus of voices pleaded from the stands.

Ōmaeda looked up at the crowd and spotted his gorgeous groupies all clamoring for his attention, each more desperate than the last to urge him on.

"She's nothing compared to you, Ōmaeda-san!"

"We love you!"

"I love you most!"

They're right… this is my big moment. Ōmaeda gulped, rediscovering his courage. This is just a setback. I'm not out, yet. My Zanpakutō is just an extension of my strength. The real power resides in me!

He puffed out his chest, let out a defiant roar, and charged straight at Yuyu. She watched him approach, confused at first but eventually arriving at a realization.

Oh, so he's an absolute dum-dum? Oh my gosh, how CUTE!

Ōmaeda heaved back his right fist, eyes aflame with determination as he stomped forth like a raging bull.

"I am Ōmaeda Marechiyo Yoshiaya – !"

"Rawr."

Yuyu swung her left arm with an underhand chop. Correspondingly, the visage of a bear's massive paw lashed out and swatted Ōmaeda like a fly, sending him skidding out from the arena, across the out-of-bounds sand, and finally crashing into the stadium's ancient latrines.

Chiwa stifled a chuckle, cleared his throat, and brought the microphone to his lips.

"The winner by ring out, Yayahara Yuyu!"

The stadium erupted into cheers, the adulation punctured by shrieks of grief from Ōmaeda's fans. The other contestants gave each other uneasy looks.

"That technique is unreal," Ayon marveled.

"Well would ya look at that, Abarai," Ikkaku chuckled to Renji. "Looks like third seats can put up a good fight after all."

"That girl really is something," Renji concurred. "The whole gyaru style is still a little much, though."