(Preshow) Registration [Where you sign up IC]

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

Despite what he had originally thought, Kenpachi found that the settlement he had spied upon the horizon was a good bit farther than he had anticipated. As they meandered further into the desert, the Captain found his sandals slowly sinking into the loose sand, sometimes finding himself needing to shake his foot out of several inches of sand before he could soldier on. He had half a mind to ditch his ceremonial footwear and just wander around barefoot, but he briefly entertained the thought that some group of brigands might assault him soon, and giving himself that small advantage seemed unfair to them. He smiled at the thought, eyes hungrily scanning for signs of an ambush. Sadly, he soon found himself entering the desert town, a few inhabitants milling around the entrance, only a few bothering to even notice the new arrival.

“I think I smell food!” Yachiru cried, shaking her tiny fists in excitement.

“I smell sand,” Zaraki replied flatly. He glanced lazily around at the baked brick houses, hoping to maybe come across some robbery or gang fight to jump in on. A place like this, it seemed, was bound to have its share of crime.

“Ooh! Look over there, Kenny!”

The towering swordsman turned his head toward her outstretched finger, hope lighting in his stomach as he saw a large crowd of people bustling in the unpaved street. Commotion could be heard, the sounds of squabbling and yelling music to his ears. A fight!

Without a word, the death god took off down the street, ignoring the glances of the now slightly more interested townsfolk as he tore toward the crowd. With any luck he might have his own bunch of skulls to smash. “Save some for ME!”

Kenpachi’s heart sank as he neared his target, the sounds of fighting now sounding more akin to...cheering? He could clearly hear laughter and excited discussion as he pushed his way through the crowd, eyeing the group as he stood a head above the rest. Despite being pushed aside by a man of his demeanor and stature, the townsfolk seemed to be thoroughly engrossed by whatever they were grouping around.

“Step on up, join this year’s grand event! You’ll find wealth, power, and glory! All of this is for the taking, if you have what it takes!”

Wealth, power, glory. Boring, boring, boring. Kenpachi’s excitement soured to sadness, tinged slightly with anger. Some stupid contest for worthless things. He turned on his heel, toppling a few villagers behind him as he wheeled around to leave.

“Bloodshed! Strife! Conquest!”

Like a spinning top, the shinigami continued his turn, knocking a half dozen others on their asses as he turned back toward the booming voice. Now they were speaking his language.

“HEY!” Zaraki boomed, his powerful voice not quite enough to drown out the combined might of the crowd’s cacophony. The people swarming around him gave him an annoyed glance before returning to cheering and crying out with excitement. “Where do I sign up?!” he hollered, glancing around frantically.

“Over there!” Yachiru cried, now standing directly on top of her captain’s shaggy head. She too was bristling with excitement, tapping her wooden clogs against Kenpachi’s skull while gesturing toward the opening of a large violet tent. “In there!”

He didn’t need any more convincing. He quickly closed the distance, thrashing through the crowd like a bull in a china shop as he trampled his way to the tent. Not a minute later, he stood inside the surprisingly spacious tent, glancing around for the combat he had been promised.

“Well hello sir!” An official-looking gentleman in an immaculate black suit beamed, stepping forward, clipboard in-hand. “How are you today?”

“Where’s the fight?” Zaraki barked, furrowing his brow. “Is it with you?”

“Oh no,” the well-dressed man replied, now dropping much of his grandeous aflections. “It will come soon, though. Would you like to join?”

“Yeah.” The reply came more like a command than an affirmative.

“Okay,” the registrar said, rolling his eyes. Primes were always fun to deal with. “Birth name?”

“No idea.”

The official paused for a moment, pursing his lips. “Oh...kay. What would you like to be called?”

“Kenpachi Zaraki,” the death god answered quickly. “Now can we get to the fight?”

“We need to take some more information from you first,” came the reply, the man flipping through forms on his clipboard. “Biography, promotional photos, next of kin, vitals-”

“Don’t-give-a-shit, don’t-give-a-shit,” he said, bulldozing past the first two items on his list. “Her,” he continued, jabbing a thumb toward the girl on his shoulder. “And I-don’t-give-a-shit.”

The official gave the deepest sigh Ken had ever heard, quickly flipping through the forms and jotting down approximations of the man’s vitals. “I need her name and a quick picture and then you can step on to that platform over there to be taken to th-”

Before the man could finish his spiel, Zaraki had taken off toward the teleporter pad. “Yachiru Kusajishi!” the pink-haired pint called back toward the stunned registrar, waving excitedly through a childish grin

A strobe of camera flashes assaulted the duo as they stepped onto the transporter, disappearing in a flash of white.

Endless Duuuunes