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This article, Blank period: Convocation of Six, is part of Bleach: War for the King's Seal, which continues on from the opening segments of the site's former Fanon Canon project. Use of this page's contents is determined by the author of this page, unless otherwise specified. |
This article, Blank period: Convocation of Six, is the ninth chapter of the The Western Branch arc, which is itself the third arc of the Blank period. Chronologically, it runs concurrently with Blank period: The Gathering, and follows Gareth Tristan as the POV character. The chapter serves to introduce Gareth to Van Satonaka and his circle.
It was the early evening of our first training day, and it wasn’t long ago that we had been released from our studies and allowed to pursue matters away from our chaperons and colleagues.
Which I needed, if I was being honest. There was far too much milling about inside my skull for me to focus on the present.
Still, it wasn’t all bad. Aurora and Ladd – there was a friendship worth investing in. I smiled, the memory warm as I recalled it…
Aurora practically skipped after her brother; she had more energy than she knew what to do with, despite the day’s exertions. I suspected why, but until she felt comfortable disclosing it herself, I’d keep my thoughts to myself. Ladd, meanwhile, had quickly vanished, I know not where. But I could guess as to the reason — he had struggled with his spells all session — and was likely sneaking in additional practice. I’d offer my help, but not tonight. Ours was a new friendship, and I wasn’t sure how much was “too much”, so I resolved to leave it for now. As for me? The training was the last thing on my mind. I was more interested in a cultural encounter, you see, and had promptly departed the dorm whilst the sun was still in evidence.
And boy was I glad I did! I felt like I’d stepped into some kind of Japanese anime. My new academy uniform, which I had promptly forgotten to wear this morning, was as light as my steps.
The landscape and architecture here were very different to my native home. There were no high skyscrapers or crowded metro stations in evidence. The Rukongai was thoroughly stuck in the past, with a rustic, countryside feel and aesthetic. As I wandered the neatly paved streets, taking in the sights and sounds of what I had been told was equivalent to Kyoto-era Japan, I realized how different this Rukongai was to Reverse London or even Front London. Dragons need a lot of room for pasture, it turns out. Who knew?
Nothing was familiar. The farthest afield I had ever been before in the World of the Living was New York City in the United States of America, back when I was a child and still the apple of my parent’s eyes. That was a long time ago by my reckoning.
The scenery wasn’t all that baffled me, though.
There was a degree of ceremony to some things these Junrinan residents did that was quite alien to me. The simple act of going to what I would call a café and drinking tea, for example? Here it was this whole full-blown affair, seemingly steeped in tradition, and seemingly very important not only for the person on the receiving end of the service but for the person performing the service as well. Having someone who, on the surface at least, looked similar in age to me, catering to my every whim like an honoured elder, was something altogether beyond my limited experience. My father may have expected to be treated in such a way, but I was very much the teenager who ate with his hands and tracked muck over my mother’s clean carpet.
Most times on purpose, too. Even Auntie Elaine found that annoying.
This put me at a distinct disadvantage because I hadn’t a baldy-notion how to react. I was fourteen! No one had ever bowed their head to me in my life! Here? Every person you met on the street either inclined their head or bowed deeply. It was all very weird.
Thankfully, my thinking was interrupted because my head was beginning to ache something fierce. In its place nestled a familiar ache in my hip as my backside hit the stone street!
“Owww,” I sounded.
“Oi, watch where you’re walkin’, brat,”
“Sorry! Sorry!” I exclaimed.
I’d met my first delinquent. He was a bald, tall, and ridiculously jacked wall of muscle. But he wasn’t a Shinigami. His garb wasn’t black and there was no Zanpakuto secured tightly to his waist or hanging from a strap on his back. Why that calmed me, I didn’t rightly know, but my calm fled when this fellow lifted me aloft by the collar of my jacket and held me aloft.
“That all you got to say for you’self!?” He spat, his mouth missing too many teeth.
I didn’t have to pretend to be offended by the man’s breath: it was rancid! Like week-old tuna left out in the sun.
“... Your mother never taught you what a toothbrush was, did she?”
Not my smartest moment. But I didn’t regret it, either. Nor did I regret it when my knee slammed into his delicates. From how he reacted, it seemed the dead still had the means to reproduce.
“OOF!”
Unfortunately, he recovered quicker than I hoped, and I never got to mouth the incantation required to blast the fool with a bolt of lightning.
“BWHAT!?” He said in reply to my whispering, “You little—!”
Again, my backside collided with the ground! The wall of muscle fell face-first beside me, eyes blank. I looked up and gulped, but accepted the proffered hand.
“T-thank you,” I stammered. “My name is—”
“I know who you are, kid,” the fellow answered sharply. “Gareth Tristan, disgraced son and former heir of House Tristan, and by all accounts a royal pain in the ass. Time will hopefully prove me wrong on that last point, but I won’t hold my breath.”
I balled my hands into fists. I was seized by the sudden urge to punch this man.
“Good for you that none of that shite means a fig to me,” the Shinigami continued. “I’m Van Satonaka, and unfortunately for you, I owe Kenji bloody Hiroshi a favour, and apparently he wants me to pay it by taking you under my wing. You won, kid, and I lost. And I mean to make you pay for it.”
“... Aww, bloody hell, seriously!?”
“Yeah, seriously. Now follow me. For however long you’re here, kid, you’re to shadow me. I suggest you learn quickly, ‘cause with me, it’s sink or swim. Can you swim?”
“... Yes!”
“I wouldn’t act like that’s an achievement,” he answered. “‘Cause even shite can float.”
“Let me introduce you around,”
Van dragged me to an establishment by the name of the “Springtime Bar”, which was filled almost to bursting with Shinigami! To the left was where the bar was located and standing behind it serving drinks was a black-haired man, similar in build and height to Kenji, with the selfsame badge on his arm. He gave a cordial greeting to Van as he entered and beckoned with his right hand towards a booth nearest the bar, where sat Anna Rosencrantz, the same woman who had earlier been our guide.
“Evening, ma’am,” I greeted, remembering my manners.
“Evening, Gareth,” she replied with a smile. She then fixed Van with an icy stare. “You realize he’s a minor, right?”
“Do you see any human cops here?” Van answered smartly. “Besides, all I’m doing is introducing him to the gang. Ace! Kicho! Momoko! Get your ungrateful asses over here and say hello.”
Three individuals approached from the bar and took seats around the booth. The male, Ace, was a tall, lanky, red-haired man with a fur cloak draped over his shoulders. His kimono was open at the chest, revealing a multitude of jagged scars, some well-healed, some quite fresh. One of the girls, Kicho, wore a cloak of fur identical to that worn by Ace, though her uniform couldn’t be any more different. I didn’t know this now, but she was a member of the 2nd Division, hence the attire. It hugged tightly to her generous frame, accentuating her curves, and leaving little to the imagination. When I got caught staring, Van clipped me on the ear. Kicho merely rolled her eyes. Ace, meanwhile, looked a hairsbreadth away from killing me. I didn’t know this, either, but apparently, he and she were an item. The third member of the group was Momoko. She looked studious, glasses framing her face, which she was constantly adjusting in what I assumed was more out of habit than anything. She handed me a glass of orange juice and regarded me with a warm smile.
“These three are erstwhile students once belonging to Kenji and me,” Van went on to say. “You’ll be seeing a lot of each of them over the coming months. If you’re looking for any of us, chances are you’ll find them here. The guy behind the bar is Kei Yume, and he’s the owner, but you’ll want to talk to the barmaid, Arisa Takara.”
“Nice to meet you all!”
“Ace will cover Zanjutsu, otherwise known as swordsmanship,” Anna interjected. “Kicho will cover movement, or as we call it here, Hoho. Momoko will be in charge of your Kido training. As for Hakuda, that will fall to me.”
I had to ask. “So where does big mouth here fit in?”
And of course I was talking about Van.
“Cheeky little fucker!” Again, Van clipped me round the ear, followed by, “I’m in charge of your survival training,” he said, with a truly demonic grin.
“Yes, yes, you’re very scary,” Anna cut in. “Gareth, I’ll walk you back to the dorms. It’s getting late, and this is no place for a child.”
I kicked at the ground and hung my head. “... Yes, ma’am…”
“Introduce him to Kei and Arisa, first,” Van interjected. “Arisa might find something in him the rest of us won’t,”
“... Mr. Van seems like a… hmm… what’s the word?”
“... Dickhead?” Anna supplied.
“Yes! Errr…”
She merely laughed. “He’s not so bad, once you get to know him. In fact, he’s like a big teddy bear.”
“Stop filling the kid’s head with shite,” he answered.
“Yes, dear, whatever you say.”
“And she’s ignoring me,” Van replied, with a heavy sigh.
“You expected anything else?” Ace answered.
“Do you like having teeth?”
As it turned out I never got to meet Kei or Arisa, for what I suddenly sensed sent my skin prickling. Fear rose in me, like a ravenous wave, and a cold sweat ran down my back. To his credit, Van noticed the change in my demeanour immediately, and the hand he set on my shoulder was strong and comforting.
“I’ve seen that reaction before,” he whispered. “Tell me: what do you sense?”
“... A Dragon. And not a friendly one.”
Van took it all in stride; as if a switch had been flipped. The rude oaf from before was gone: standing before me was suddenly seriousness given form.
“We don’t sense a thing. Momoko, we’ll probably have casualties. Alert your people. Kicko, alert the Onmitsukido that we’ll be relying on our eyes, for now. Ace, you’re with me.”
“Let’s go, kid! I’ve never killed a Dragon before.”
I didn’t have the courage to admit that I hadn’t killed one, either.