by Otaku X
Chapter 9: Cheongsam Photo Shoot
The eleven contestants were assembled in the house on various pieces of furniture in the living room the next morning, awaiting their Tara mail, when the super model herself walked in the front door with a flourish and two cameramen, and several other people.
"Hey, hey, girlfriends!" she called to them, waving, her slender figure packed into her fashionably ripped jeans and bright tangerine sweatshirt strategically placed half-off-shoulder, smiling at them.
The contestants rushed her, squealing a collective "Hi, Tara!"
She gave them all hugs and patted Yachiru's head.
"Everyone all set in their rooms now?"
Nods all around.
"Enough bathrooms for you all?"
"Yes, Tara!"
"Good. I came to see you all today because I have a very special - actually two very special guests - for you to meet later." She gave them all her best smile of anticipation. "Let's get comfy!"
They headed for the couches and bean bag furniture, leaving Tara half a couch for herself. She smiled over them, and then put on a more sobering expression. "Top models in the field have always had to remain at their peak weight to showcase the designers' clothes to their best. And sometimes, I have to say, that's not so easy to do. Some girls resort to unhealthy methods to keeping that top form." She looked around at them all. "Anyone know what I'm talking about?"
Retsu frowned at her. "You think some of us are fat?"
"Oh, no, but you all have different figures and styles. We've had plus-size models win the competition before," Tara said earnestly.
Rangiku narrowed her eyes. "I am not fat."
Tara shook her head. "Of course you're not, but you do have a figure that would lean more toward swimsuit and lingerie modeling than catalog or runway."
Rangiku shrugged. "I'm happy with that."
Tara looked slowly from Rangiku to Retsu. "But sometimes models take extremes too far. They go beyond a modest diet. They develop problems with food." She looked to each of the contestants. "Anyone know what I'm talking about?"
"Well," Momo said sheepishly, "I like watermelon taffy a lot."
It wasn't what Tara was looking for. "Oh, well, what I meant was, does anyone feel they've eaten too much, and make themselves sick?"
"I get sick when I eat too much candy," Yachiru added hopefully, standing on the couch beside Yumichika, leaning her elbow on the top of his head.
"But do you make yourself vomit?" Tara pressed.
"No. It just happens."
Tara made herself smile as she looked to the rest of the contestants. "I guess what I'm asking, girls, is do any of you have a problem with food?"
Orihime slowly pulled a handful of animal crackers out of the box in her lap. "Sometimes I make things no one wants to eat."
"Do you make them so no one else wants them?" Tara asked, grasping. "So you can eat it all yourself? Do you feel like purging later?"
"No..."
A ripple of giggles went through a few of the contestants that had been victim to Orihime's cooking. Tara looked at them. "No one here eats until they feel they have to vomit?"
Yachiru nodded, fingers absently toying with the ends of the feather dangling off Yumichika until he pulled it out of her grasp.
"I do," she said. "Usually Gummy-Bears."
Tara gave up on the subject and decided on another sore spot she could irritate. She looked brightly at them, gaze settling on Nanao, Rukia, and Momo in turn. "We all have areas, as models, we need to work on. Fix. Hide. Problem spots. We all have them. Every model has had to overcome a tiny little imperfection. The best models know how to do that, even turn it into an advantage. Anyone here know of their flaws?"
The contestants all looked at each other for several long moments, until everyone was looking at Yumichika.
"Well, some of us have less obvious obstacles," she said with a gracious smile to man whose face was starting to redden, just a little. Tara's attention flicked to Momo. "So, Momo, do you know what you're little flaw would be?"
Momo frowned, looking down at her denim mini skirt. "I guess I'm too gullible."
Tara quirked a frown. "Oh. Well, that can help give you a vulnerable look, and the camera really loves that, so -"
"It's not you're fault," Rangiku said, leaning over the low table to pat Momo's arm on the bean bag across from her. "If you're lied to, you're -"
"Of course you would understand," Yoruichi said with a mischievous smile for Rangiku.
The taller woman sent her a dark look, then raised an eyebrow. "I do understand. And so should you."
"Being banished isn't the same as full-fledged mutiny," Yoruichi shot back.
"You weren't the one who got banished; you followed willingly," Rangiku reminded.
"Girls, girls," Tara said, confusion evident as the cameras tried to follow the exchanges between the two contestants.
"It's still different," Yoruichi said with a sniff.
"Maybe it's worse," Soifon said with a slight growl, looking to Yoruichi.
"We've been through all that," Yoruichi reminded her former bodyguard in a low tone.
Soifon shrugged. "I've come to terms."
Tara gave the Chinese woman a sympathetic look. "Have you?"
Soifon pouted. "Yes."
"Because I see a girl who's unhappy with herself. Are you sure you're -"
"I guess I do compensate. A little," Soifon said timidly.
"Of course you do," Tara said leadingly. "We all have to cope with -"
"I tend be a little harsher on others when I think they're a threat," Soifon said.
"You feel lacking, and therefore jealous of the other contestants," Tara said, nodding, "especially those with more voluptuous figures?"
Soifon wrinkled her face at Tara. "What?"
"Don't let your Chinese features hamper you, girl. You're a beautiful Chinese woman, and you should be proud of it!" Tara said jubilantly.
"I am."
"But you're not letting it out. Embrace your differences!"
Again everyone looked to Yumichika.
Nanao cleared her throat as Yumichika began to redden deeper. "Uh, I don't always want to be so elusive. Sometimes I want to get caught," she half-mumbled.
Tara's attention snapped to her. "You mean eating, honey? Do you hide to eat?"
"... No."
"You hide the food?"
"No."
Rangiku looked at the bespectacled woman. "You want to get caught?"
Nanao's facade of indifference was back up. "Don't tell him."
Rangiku smiled wider. "You want him to catch you? All you have to do is slow down a little, Nanao, and don't hit him so hard with that book."
"You're not talking about food?" Tara asked.
Nanao shook her head.
Tara sighed in exasperation and tried to steer the topic back to where she wanted it to go. "We've all got our personal flaws, but we have to learn to work with them. Like Momo," Tara waved a hand at the girl, "and Nanao, Rukia, and Soifon. They've all got decidedly more slender figures than the rest of you contestants."
Momo, Nanao, Rukia, and Soifon looked at each other.
"That's what you were talking about?" Rukia asked, violet eyes wide. "Physical flaws?"
Nanao frowned. "I don't consider being slender a flaw. I can be loved for who I am."
Tara looked from Nanao to Momo to Rukia. "Girls! As a model, we all have flaws - physical flaws - that we should overcome. Big nose. Close-set eyes. Wide hips. That kind of stuff. What're ya'll talking about?"
Silence reigned in the living room.
"I think we're all well-adjusted," Nemu said after a moment.
"Okay. Moving along," Tara said, shaking her head, fixing her smile back onto her face. She snapped her fingers to one of her attendants standing with the cameramen. "Today we're lucky enough to have Han Lau with us, noted expert in calligraphy, to show us the beauty of the Chinese language in written form."
Retsu frowned. "You know we're in Japan, right?"
"Oh, yes," Tara said as the attendant passed out art pads to everyone, "but I thought it would be nice to have a lesson from an expert in the beautiful art of Chinese calligraphy before we have our next photo shoot." Tara giggled, putting a hand over her mouth. "Oops! Maybe I've said too much!"
Several of the contestants agree with her, but didn't say so aloud.
"Mr. Han Lau," Tara said, standing and bowing to the older short Chinese man who stepped out from behind the much taller cameramen, "welcome to the The Next Top Model house!"
The contestants all stood and bowed to Han Lau, who bowed in return, before they all resumed their seats.
"Right here, please," Tara said, motioning for him to sit beside her on the couch. She addressed the contestants. "Mr. Han Lau is going to show us a few basic steps to creating beautiful Chinese characters, and then we're all going to try it ourselves."
No one was impressed by Tara's choice of guests, nor their calligraphy lessons, but they went along with it. After twenty minutes of lecture and practice, during which Yachiru spent her time making ladybug characters in comic panels out of her inked-dipped fingerprints, Han Lau stood and bowed to them all, thankful for once his English was sketchy, and made his departure with eleven sheets of paper with the contestants' names inked on in florid strokes.
Once out of the house, Tara stormed up to her entourage, who were waiting at her limousine in the drive, and found the show's producer.
"No eating disorders! You said there'd be eating disorders!" she yelled at the middle-aged woman in the feminist-tailored suit.
The producer put a calming hand on Tara's shoulder as the model huffed and grabbed the Diet Coke her assistant handed her. "There, there, Tara. We'll find another subject to inflame."
"Aggh! Where am I going to get drama if everyone is so well-adjusted this season?" Tara slurped down her soda until it almost backed up her nose. She coughed a bit, waving off the monogrammed tissue her assistant offered her. "Find me something to bring on the drama!"
The afternoon was passed putting out the small fires Tara's girl-talk session had started. It was with relief that they heard Orihime's "Tara mail!" call out from the house to where most were sitting poolside, watching Yachiru do cannonballs from the wrought iron balcony of the yellow bedroom.
Orihime collided with the rest of the contestants at the sliding glass door. "'So you've embraced China, but how well can China embrace you? Be ready in twenty minutes and try your best to fit in and act the part.'" Orihime danced back and forth. "Maybe we're going to China."
Retsu looked closer at the note. "Maybe the next judge is Chinese."
Yoruichi looked to Soifon. "Maybe it's that Han Lau from this morning."
Forty-five minutes later Ray Migel - dressed in black jeans and a black rayon shirt with dragons embroidered in gold on the back - watched as the eleven contestants gathered before him in the back of the park on the west side of Tokyo that had been closed off for their purposes. With him stood a petite Chinese woman in her early fifties, wearing a midnight blue cheongsam with red flowers, her hair pulled back into a tight bun.
"Hallo, girls!" he greeted.
"Hi, Ray!" the contestants returned, smiling.
"Today we have a special guest." He indicated the woman to his side. "With me is Qian Li, master cheongsam designer who has created dresses for a wide range of celebrities, including Lucy Liu and Gwyneth Paltrow."
A chorus of squeals went through the girls.
Qian Li smiled at them. "Today you are going to be showcasing my latest designs for this year's collection. I've spent my heart on these designs, and am very proud of them, so make sure you show them off to their full potential."
Ray nodded and turned to the girls. "Half of you will be doing photo shoots out here, and half in-studio." His assistant handed him a notepad. He glanced at it for a moment. "Nemu, Yachiru, Nanao, Momo, and Yoruichi, you'll be having your photo shoots first here, in the park. The rest of you will have your shoots inside later, so you can take it easy for a while. Orihime," he found the auburn-haired girl in the group, "Mr. Han Lau decided your calligraphy was the most beautiful-est, so you get first choice of the cheongsam designs by the lovely Miss Qian Li."
Orihime smiled and made a deep bow to the designer. "Thank you!"
"No," Ray said, "those shooting outside first, off you go to hair and make-up," he pointed to the curtained off area behind them under the trees. "The rest of you, don't get lost!"
It took Orihime all of three minutes to invade the rack of colorful Chinese dresses and pick out a marigold yellow sleeveless design with red and white flowers before she was joined by Momo, Nemu, Yachiru, Nanao, and Yoruichi. After those doing their photo shoots outside had made their choices, the other contestants selected.
Leaving Yumichika to ponder the rack, frowning at the options available. He looked to Soifon. "Isn't there a male version of the cheongsam?"
She gave him a shrewish look and picked a purple-black dress from the rack.
"So much for the kinder, gentler Soifon," he mumbled, looking back over the rack.
Soifon glanced at the rack. "There aren't any changshans, Yumichika," she said tolerantly. "You're out of luck."
He reluctantly picked a blue dress.
First up for the outside photo shoot was Nanao, dressed in a flattering short-sleeved black silk cheongsam with orchid flowers. She stood beneath the cherry blossom tree, looking back at the photographer and Ray as they looked at her.
"Very nice lines, Nanao," Ray said with a nod. "The black against the green of the grass behind you contrasts nicely. Now," he waved a hand to his right, "you're waiting to rendezvous with your lover, and he's late."
"Why?" she asked.
"Why? Uh, it doesn't matter. Let's see you're first reaction to your secret tryst," Ray said.
A sheen of terror crossed Nanao's face and she looked warily behind the tree.
"No, no, Nanao," Ray said as she cowered. "You look like you're going to get pounced. Let's see dreamy."
Nanao made a silly schoolgirl face.
Ray shook his head. "Not quite. Show us wistful."
Nanao did her best wistful face.
Ray scratched the back of his head. "How about yearning? Can you do yearning?"
"All the time," she murmured. She clasped her hands before her and looked longingly to the sky with a small smile on her face.
"Ooh, perfect," Ray said, nodding and smiling at the photographer as the camera snapped shots. "Very Jeanette MacDonald, but it works."
After Nanao's fifty frames of perfect poses, Yoruichi took her turn, dressed in a short scarlet cheongsam with black flowers. Her hair was up in its usual high ponytail, her catlike gold eyes on the crew.
"What do you want to see, Ray?" she called from beneath the tree.
Ray considered her for a moment, and then nodded. "I think we'll have you work with the tree, Yoruichi. Just put your hands on it, like a senior picture photo for the yearbook."
"The what?"
"Come on, Yoruichi; it hasn't been that long, has it?" He held up his hand in a like-pose. "Against the tree."
Yoruichi put her hands on the tree, resting lightly against it, head tilted to the camera.
"Oh, good, but take your fingernails out of the bark, honey."
The photographer shook his head. "I see cat."
Ray nodded. "So do I." He said to Yoruichi, "Relax your fingers. You're not going to climb the tree. Just rest against it."
Yoruichi retracted her claws.
"I still see cat climbing a tree," the photographer said to Ray, snapping photos nonetheless.
"Me too, but - No!"
Yoruichi had leaned into the tree, hitching her short skirt higher, one leg bent, knee resting against the tree trunk. "No?"
"Ahh, no. Too much like pole-dancing."
She flung her head back, hair bouncing. "Better?"
"No." Ray sighed. The cameraman reached
for his pocket package of tissues. Ray frowned. "What is it with nosebleeds and this town?"
The cameraman shrugged and stuffed a tissue up one nostril. "Elevation?"
After fifty frames of half-hoochie shots, Yoruichi was done and the cameraman was on his second package of tissues. Ray was glad to see Yachiru bounce up to them in her pastel pink cheongsam, kite in hand, contagious smile on her rosy face.
"Hello, there, Yachiru," he greeted as she hopped in place. "You're going to pretend to fly a kite for your shoot, okay?"
"Pretend?"
"Well, there's no wind today, so we're going to wire up the kite and have a lighting guy hold the kite up in a tree so it looks like the wind is carrying it."
Yachiru's face fell. "Pretend?"
"Yes, sweetie."
"That's no fun." She looked the lighting man holding a spool of fishing line. "Okay."
The kite was wired up, the lighting guy in the tree, and Yachiru was holding the kite string ten minutes later. Barely had Ray said "show me..." than Yachiru had yanked the string, pulling the guy out of the tree.
Four times.
Then, after the lighting guy had finished getting his sprained arm wrapped with two ace bandages, the cameraman got half a dozen passable shots. After Momo and Nemu's photo shoots they moved inside to finish the other contestants.
In the studio set to look like a ritzy night club, Rukia pulled at her green dress, making a face at the confining fit, hearing a split of material.
"Again?" the wardrobe woman said.
"It's too tight," Rukia said as the woman hovered at her side with needle and thread for the third time in half an hour.
Around them the other contestants milled, watching Ray and the cameraman direct Rangiku in her violet cheongsam against the night club setting.
"It's supposed to be tight," the wardrobe woman said, stitching closed the same torn seam she'd already mended above the slit at Rukia's thigh.
Rukia pulled at her cap sleeve, tugging the green silk out of the wardrobe woman's fingers. The woman gave Rukia a longsuffering look.
"Sorry," Rukia said sulkily.
After Momo's successful photo shoot, Retsu took her turn before the cameras in a deep violet-blue cheongsam that was adorned with pink and white embroidered flowers. She went to the bar counter and stood in front of the leather seated stools, looking to Ray and the cameraman as the lights were adjusted overhead.
"What's my motive?" she asked.
"Motive? Oh, you don't need one, Retsu," Ray said. He gestured overhead. "We're not going to run the disco ball, but the camera flash will reflect off it, so don't let it distract you."
She put one hand on her hip, waiting.
"Now just act like you're having a night on the town, your girlfriends are in the restroom and you're saving your place at the bar," he said as the cameraman kneeled beside him.
"Just wait?"
"Well, give us some poses, show off the dress."
Retsu arched her back and gave the camera a withering look.
Shots flashed.
"Now show us aloof 'You can't dance with me,'" Ray said.
Retsu gave him the same pose, in reverse.
"Something a little different," Ray said. "Maybe something that says come hither."
She frowned. "Why?"
"It's a night club, Retsu."
She leaned back against the counter and gave them a knowing look.
It wasn't quite what Ray was looking for, but fifty shots later he decided it was as good as it was going to get. Slowly the shoots were finished, ending with one very frustrated photo shoot director presiding over two settings, ten low energy contestants, and Soifon.
She stepped before the cameraman, in front of the bar counter in the night club setting, looking at Ray as he rubbed his face wearily.
"Okay, Soifon," he said, pushing his hair back from his face with one hand as the cameraman reloaded film. "Let's mix it up some. We've had about every club scene I can think of except a brawl."
"Who would I brawl with?" she asked almost eagerly.
"These are individual shots, honey. Just you." He looked over her raspberry-black cheongsam with black flowers. "Looking lethal, I must say." He grinned. "Maybe you could imitate a fight stance. You know, some Crouching Tiger-Kill Bill poses. Can you do that?"
Soifon smiled. And then set off into a flurry of Chinese martial arts moves that would have made Jackie Chan proud. The cameraman couldn't snap fast enough, and was tempted to reload, just for the fun of it, but Ray stopped him.
"Good stuff, Soifon," Ray said as she continued to pose after her fifty frames were up. "That's a wrap, honey."
Soifon paused in half attack mode. "Are you sure? I've got more, Ray."
"That's it. Excellent."
Soifon beamed.
The shoot lasted longer than usual, and the contestants barely had time to change into their jeans and pink t-shirts with Chinese script letters that read Qian Li Originals on the front. They arrived to the judging just in time.
"Five minutes, Ms. Hills," the producer said to Tara as the leggy model stood before the judges table early that evening.
Tara waved to her, then smoothed her brilliant dark red and gold embroidered cheongsam with both hands. She paced before the table as last minute details were attended before the judging filming started, looking from Virgil Parker to Aizen seated beside him.
She perked up with a smile for the guest judge. "So, Mr. Aizen, you're a businessman?"
Aizen shifted a little uncomfortably in his casual khaki button-up shirt and black chinos. "Well, yes, I am."
"From Tokyo?"
"Well, no," Aizen said, searching for words. "Hueco Mundo. I doubt you've heard of it."
"Oh, I have." She gave him a dismissive wave.
He watched her dubiously.
"What kind of business are you in?"
Aizen thought about his answer. "Right now I'm in the middle of a hostile takeover. Very complicated."
Tara nodded, accepting the answer. "I see."
"No, you don't," Uryuu said from his seat at the other end of the table.
Aizen looked his way. "I know you..."
Uryuu looked back to Tara, slouching some so that most of his profile was hidden behind Miss Ray, who was getting his tiara polished.
"Be sure to get all the rhinestones shiny, hon," Miss Ray said as the props girl standing behind him busily wiped at the tiara on his head. "Gotta see it gleaming." He looked down the table to Aizen. "I think I've seen you before. Ever been in GQ magazine?"
"No," Aizen said slowly.
"With that hair? Hmm. You should be." Miss Ray touched his tiara testily as the props girl left after his primping. "You look the part."
Aizen wasn't sure whether to be flattered or not.
Minutes later, the contestants entered the judging room, and Tara stood before the panel's table and introduced both the judges and the prizes of the competition. Nobody had a positive reaction to the introduction of Aizen, and, noticing the unpleasant atmosphere that had begun to envelope the room, Tara quickly moved on as she took her seat.
"This week, the girls were asked to learn the ancient art of Chinese calligraphy," she said, glancing at the other judges as she spoke. "Mr. Aizen, what do you think about it?"
Aizen sifted the woman an unimpressed look, then shrugged slightly, folding his hands in front of him on the table. "It's a beautiful form of art."
"And Miss Orihime, you won this challenge," Tara continued on quickly, looking to said girl. "Congratulations. This is your first win, isn't it?"
Orihime nodded shyly, a slight blush coming to her cheeks. "Thanks."
"What Orihime won was first pick of gown for the photo shoot," Tara said as she sat back slightly. "And this week, you weren't wearing just any kind of gown. What kind were you wearing, Orihime?"
"Cheongsam," Orihime replied readily, beaming.
"All right, then. Let's see your best shot.
Orihime's pic
ture flicked onto the screen.
Uryuu sat up straighter immediately, eyes glued to the photo of the red-haired girl in a typical ancient Chinese room setting seated at a low table, carefully painting a traditional Chinese mask. "It's beautiful."
"It is," Virgil said with a nod, then continued, looking to Orihime, "but it just doesn't do it for me. I mean, it's a nice shot, but it doesn't really seem like you're modeling."
"I have to agree," Miss Ray said, tilting his chin slightly as he looked over the photograph. "A little too caught-while-doing-crafts for me."
"Well I disagree with you both," said Tara suddenly, pointing at the picture with her pen. "I think it's gorgeous." She turned her attention to Orihime now. "What most girls don't understand is that it's only when you don't look like you're modeling when you really are. The fact that neither of them think you look like you're modeling is a compliment," she said firmly, adding a nod.
Orihime smiled a little. "Thanks."
"All right. Thanks Orihime." Tara glanced down, then up again. "Next is Rukia." She smiled as Rukia approached down the carpet.
Rukia's photo blinked onto the screen.
"It's a good shot," Tara said with a nod at the photo of Rukia standing on tiptoe to reach across the bar counter, the exaggerated slit showing more than a little thigh. Tara raised an eyebrow at Rukia. "I'd say that's quite the cheesecake shot there."
Rukia blushed as pink as her shirt. "The seam kept ripping."
"Hmm. And in the right spot, too. Makes your leg look longer. Thank you, Rukia." Tara looked at the line of girls as Rukia turned and left. "Momo! You're next, honey."
Momo hesitantly started down the runway, each step forced, eyes locked on Aizen at the table, until she got halfway down it. Then her head lifted, her shuffle slowly stopped to be replaced by the model stomp she'd been practicing with Nemu, and she stalked down the carpet to stand before Tara.
"Hmph!" she said in Aizen's direction, chin jutting out, one hand on her hip as she looked to Tara.
Aizen looked a little guilty as Virgil turned to glance at him.
Tara smiled at Momo. "Now that's better, Momo! Some spunk. Sass becomes you. Let's see your best shot."
They looked to the screen as a photo of Momo in the light blue cheongsam with navy and silver flowers flashed on. In it Momo was picking flowers in the park, a sweet smile on her face.
"Very nice," Tara said as she nodded. "Innocent, refreshing. A good photo, Momo."
After the rest of the contestants were called and their best photos shown, they were dismissed, each throwing Aizen a glare as they left the room.
Virgil frowned at Aizen. "You don't seem very popular with our contestants." Before Aizen could comment, Virgil turned to Tara.
"Let's start with Nemu," said Tara, sliding the picture of aforementioned girl towards Miss Ray. "What do we think about her photo this week?"
"We think Nemu's looking a bit call-girl," Miss Ray said rather knowingly, a hint of attitude in his tone.
"I'll have to agree with you there," Tara said, looking at the photo of Nemu, who was holding up a glass of champagne rather seductively as she lounged in a club booth. "A little too hooch."
"Then what do we think about Retsu?" asked Virgil, as he slid the photo of Retsu out from beneath Nemu's.
"Retsu looks like she's Nemu's madam," Miss Ray replied quickly as his brow rose slightly. "Mm-hmm. These girls are in the business."
"They wouldn't look like that if you hadn't told them to pose that way," Uryuu said lowly, not at all interested in where the conversation was headed. He was just glad that Orihime hadn't posed like Nemu and Retsu, otherwise...
"And Yumichika looks like a man in drag, to be frank," Virgil said suddenly, nearly cringing at the photo of Yumichika. "Didn't fill out the cheongsam at all; it looks terrible."
"But I still see a model there," Tara said as she tapped the picture. "And you know what I always say, Virgil, a model should be able to make a potato sack look like a million bucks."
"True, but I don't see it here."
"Speaking of filling it out," Miss Ray said, gesturing to the photograph of Rangiku before trailing off into silence.
"That girl could fill anything out," Virgil said, suddenly forgetting about Yumichika. "Why she hasn't approached Sports Illustrated, or Playboy, I haven't the faintest idea..."
"Because she wants to be a model, Virgil," Tara replied readily, and a bit too curtly for everyone's taste.
They all looked to Aizen, who was silently observing.
"No comments, Mr. Aizen?" Tara asked sweetly.
"Uh, well, they're all very ... agreeable..." he finally added, looking at the photo of Rangiku that Virgil was still holding.
"Agreeable?" Miss Ray scoffed. "That's what you say about the weather. Even if you don't like women, these are -"
"I do like women," Aizen clarified briskly.
Tara suddenly pointed a finger at Aizen, wagging it. "That's where I've heard of Hueco Mundo before. I did a photo shoot there for Coppertone."
Aizen frowned. "I'm quite sure you didn't."
"Hmm, maybe not Coppertone. Maybe it was Maybelline." She smiled at him. "Lots of sand, big sky, right?"
Aizen scowled. "Lots of sand, yes, but -"
"I knew it!" Tara said with a victorious smile. "On with the judging." She held up Soifon in an action shot. "This girl nailed the concept with every shot. Absolutely brilliant."
Virgil nodded. "Photographers would give a week's pay to get some of the shots she gave today."
Tara placed Retsu and Nemu's photos before her on the table. "These two just didn't get the concept. Pretty girls, but not model."
Uryuu's fingers had inched over to Orihime's photo near Tara. "I think Orihime captured the best concept. The girl next door. The kind you take home to mother. That sells the dress best."
Aizen held up the photo of Momo. "This is quintessential innocent. That sells the dress best."
Uryuu glowered at him. "You're a monster..."
All the other judges looked to the Quincy.
"Mr. Ishida," Tara began, "Mr. Aizen is our guest, and as such -"
"He's right. Momo is innocent," Uryuu agreed. "He should know."
A few awkward moments passed, during which Aizen kept his eyes on the photos.
"Well, Tara said finally, trying to raise the moment, "let's vote on who goes home."
The contestants returned to the room a few moments later, where Tara stood in front of the judging table with ten photos in hand. Behind her Aizen was ignoring the looks Uryuu and Virgil were training his way.
As they fell into line, Yumichika leaned to Nanao, nodding to Aizen. "How did he get picked for this?"
Nanao shot a glare at the guest judge. "I don't know. He's probably wondering the same thing about you."
Yumichika frowned.
Once all of the girls were assembled, Tara addressed them. "Eleven beautiful girls stand before me, but I only have ten photos in my hands. The girl whose name I do not call must immediately return to the house, pack their belongings, and go home."
Everyone nodded, holding their breath. Tara cleared her throat, then turned over the first photo in her hands.
"Soifon."
Soifon came down the runner to collect her photo, smiling fully.
"Congratulations. You're still in the running to become The Next Top Model."
Soifon made a slight bow, threw Aizen a dark look, and returned to the line.
"Momo," Tara said, smiling at the slight girl.
Momo walked briskly down the runner, tossing Aizen a belittling look, and smiled at Tara.
"Congratulations. You're still in the running to become The Next Top Model."
Momo giggled as she took her photo, then scowled at Aizen and went happily back down the runner.
"Yachiru," Tara called next.
The pink-haired girl skipped up to Tara, blowing a bubble with her hot pink gum.
"Top models don't blow bubbles at judgi
ng," Tara said.
"Okay," Yachiru said, face hopeful.
"Congratulations, you're still in the running for The Next Top Model."
Yachiru took her photo, then pointed a finger at Aizen. "You're a bad man!" Then she grinned and bounded down the runner and into line.
"You don't have any fans here," Virgil said to Aizen.
Aizen shrugged.
The rest were called.
Orihime, Rangiku, Yoruichi, Rukia, Nanao, Yumichika.
Tara looked to the two remaining contestants. "Retsu, Nemu, please come down here."
Retsu and Nemu approached Tara, Retsu resignedly, Nemu without any expression at all.
Tara looked slowly to each of them. "I have only one photo left," she said breathily. "Retsu, we asked for sophistication, but emotion as well. You didn't deliver. Nemu, we wanted to see a flirty side, but you showed us flirty - with a price tag." Tara slowly turned over the last photo. "Nemu, you're still in the running for The Next Top Model."
Retsu smiled sadly and looked to Nemu.
Who remained unmoved.
"Thanks, Tara," Retsu said with a smile. She waved to the panel. "Thanks, Mr. Ishida, Miss Ray, Mr. Parker." She leveled a look of disdain on Aizen. "You can rot."
Aizen cleared his throat. "I'll have you know, I voted -"
"Thanks everyone," Retsu said to the other contestants, turning her back on him. "Good luck!"
Nemu collected her photo from Tara and rejoined the line. As they sifted out of the room, Momo leaned to Yachiru.
"Give me your gum."
Yachiru frowned at her.
"I'll give you more at the house," Momo promised.
Yachiru's eyes lit, and she took the fist-sized wad of bubblegum from her mouth and gave it to Momo.
Momo looked back at the table as Aizen stood with the other judges. She flung the hot pink sticky ball at him, and then followed the other contestants out.
"Good one," Rangiku said, smiling as they left.
At the table, Aizen took a side-step at the impact as the pink blob caught in his hair. He looked at the disappearing contestants, pulling at the goo firmly lodged in his once-immaculate hair. "Who did that? Momo!"
Virgil chuckled.
And then there were ten.