"When, oh when, shall we meet again?"
"At dusk on the Obon shore!"
"Link pinkies, link pinkies, never tell a lie!"
"Break your word, and shatter to dust!"
"Stride forth, stride forth, to the shrine of the gods"
"Offer up ■■■■…"
The moment that girlish voice, playful yet tinged with a sickly edge, faded, a distant nursery rhyme wove into the ears of Makoto and the female Vasto Lorde, now sharp, now faint.
With its light, childish cadence, the world around them warped at breakneck speed.
The barren plain dissolved into an ancient arena, encircled by towering, wall-like steps adorned with lavish gilt flourishes, grand enough to host hundreds, even thousands.
Makoto and the Vasto Lorde stood at its heart.
Above their heads hovered the number [3].
The surrounding spectators, like unawakened puppets, froze in mid-cheer, their vacant gazes fixed forward. Caught in a timeless pause, they seemed to shout, yet no sound escaped.
The Vasto Lorde's impassive face finally betrayed a flicker of wariness, her eyes darting to the crowd with a hint of tension.
Even with her limited knowledge, she'd heard tales of Shinigami being a rival to Vasto Lorde in might.
Was this Shinigami's power to summon allies?
Yet when she glanced at Makoto, she found him equally still, rooted in place.
More startling...
His mangled arm had knit itself whole.
A bizarre ability.
She had to shatter this Shikai now.
Her expression hardened, and she thrust her lance straight at Makoto.
The tip aimed for his arm.
Shick!
The white bone lance pierced the air, snapping his left arm clean off.
It tumbled to the ground with a dull thud.
When her hooves clattered, she turned, her lance still poised like a true knight, eyeing the Shinigami behind her.
But as she spun, the scene remained unchanged.
Her brow furrowed.
Then, that girlish voice chimed in her mind.
[Role: Centaur Love Gladiator]
[One Rule Violation]
The words sank in and she noticed the number above her drop from [3] to [2].
Simultaneously, her reiatsu drained in a grotesque rush, as if she'd clashed with an equal for hours, her body weakening rapidly.
Her gaze sharpened.
Something's wrong!
This world was utterly wrong.
A rule-based ability?
It could even siphon reiatsu from thin air?!
Unbeknownst to her, a second heart-shaped ring bloomed around the one in her pupils.
"…Don't rush."
"My 'script' hasn't even started."
As her tension mounted, Makoto's voice drifted from behind.
The antelope knight whirled, pupils contracting.
His severed arm wove itself back, bones, flesh, skin, reforming at blinding speed, a Hollow's High-Speed Regeneration.
Not only that, his number rose from [3] to [4], his reiatsu surging beyond its initial peak.
Had she the means to measure it precisely, she'd see his gain matched her loss exactly.
Makoto's eyelids drooped, his right hand beckoning. An ordinary Zanpakuto materialized, its scabbard dangling two pink-and-white tabi charms, a quirk of his gremlin, not him.
He faced the female Vasto Lorde.
His gaze carried a shadowed complexity.
In that fleeting moment, fragments of this partial Shikai's mechanics had flooded his mind.
Unthinkable.
That the Soul Society could birth such an outlandish, twisted power…
Even the stoic antelope knight sensed the anomaly, refraining from further strikes.
Makoto chuckled softly, explaining.
"This… is a 'Playlife Script,' woven from my 'self,' forcing us into a staged performance."
"Here, we abide by 'rules,' stealing each other's reiatsu, until one of us hits zero."
"Until that, or our 'deal' is met..."
"...neither can die."
"Here, Rules are everything, absolute law."
His voice settled, and his heart-laden eyes lifted to her.
Her body tensed instinctively.
Her expression grew grave.
A script born from this Shinigami's 'self'?
She'd heard countless tales in Hueco Mundo of Shinigami and their kaleidoscope of Zanpakutō, abilities bending 'rules' themselves, but facing such eerie power firsthand was new.
Her heavy gaze locked on him, thoughts churning.
What was this Shinigami's 'self'?
A gladiatorial arena, did it mean an undying duel of wills?
Would monstrous beasts emerge from outer cages?
Or perhaps a mob assault from the stands?
Blood would flow again.
The thought of such carnage creased her brow, her mind racing through countermeasures.
Above all, what were these 'rules' he harped on?
If breaking them drained her reiatsu, they must be mercilessly strict.
As she braced herself...
Makoto sighed deeply.
He loathed admitting it, but this 'script' distilled the purest, most feral shard of his inner beast.
Once the rules were fully laid bare,
His eyes snapped open, voice booming like waves across the arena.
"Playlife: World of Revelry!"
Instantly, every figure in the arena shed their puppet stillness, springing to life.
Eyes, gestures, voices, expressions,
All surged with vitality.
Even her mortal days long faded, felt thrust back millennia to a deathmatch pit, basking in the crowd's roars and jeers.
But as their shouts reached her, confusion crept in.
The audience bellowed.
"Go, centaur girl!"
"Crush that shrimp with your speed-thrust lance!"
"Yeah! After you beat him, pin him down with your big ass and fuck him hard!!"
"Hell yeah, I wanna see your big truck flatten his little nuts!"
"What are you dawdling for? Fight!"
"Battle (close-up)!"
The female Vasto Lorde froze stunned by the filth raining from the stands.
Her gaze swiveled to Makoto, half-hoping for a hint about these rules.
This… was his 'self'?
Something's off.
Definitely off!
Even a Hollow over a millennium old had never witnessed such a spectacle!
What was wrong with this Shinigami's mind?
Wait.
Were all Shinigami like this?!
Yet Makoto, who'd just suavely explained the rules, now feigned deafness, awkwardly turning aside as if his ears had failed.
Yes, deeply sorry.
This was once his favorite masterpiece.
To have it randomly picked as a combat script, truly so very sorry!!
As his self-loathing neared implosion, that cute gremlin voice rang in both their ears.
[World of Revelry: Ultra Clash Love Arena]
[Theme: Fight and Overpower]
[Rule: After toppling your foe head-on, you must thoroughly overpower them in another sense!!]
[Note: As this is a mandatory proxy script, the 'host' has no privileges.]
The rules hit, and her face turned granite-gray.
Her incredulous stare bore into Makoto.
So Shinigami even preyed on Hollows like this?!
She couldn't recall feeling 'fear' in eons, her antelope ass's tail shot up with a whoosh.
Makoto, resigned, embraced the chaos.
He raised his blade toward the knight, hamming up a berserker act per the script, roaring.
"Waaaaaaghh!"
"FIGHT!!!"
"…"
Beneath her bone mask, her clear eyes drilled into him.
Her piercing stare mid-performance even sparked a fleeting urge in Makoto to end it all with a quick throat-slit.
Their eyes locked.
A bizarre silence fell.
"…"
Then...
The antelope knight bolted!
This twisted gladiator rule.
Who'd follow it?!
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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