"Enough."
In the midst of this brewing storm, a stern, authoritative growl rumbled from the dojo's center.
Saitō, her fingers already brushing her sword hilt, and Makoto, who'd just kicked his Zanpakuto aside, froze in unison.
Yamamoto's gaze swept over them, cold and unyielding.
In that fleeting instant, Makoto felt a crushing wave of reiatsu like a landslide bearing down to flood the confined space, surging like a tidal deluge.
An odd, suffocating sensation gripped him as if he were being buried alive in soil.
As if death loomed a heartbeat away.
Until…
Yamamoto lowered his head, taking a seemingly casual sip of tea from the cup beside him.
"Tch."
Saitō shot him a wary glance, her hand stilled on her weapon, restraining the urge to lunge into a frenzied assault.
The instructors lining the room watched with varied expressions.
Before clashing with the Seireitei, Yamamoto had swept through Rukongai, plundering its mightiest warriors and forging a united front.
These were those plundered elites, survivors who'd bent the knee after defeat, once-ferocious monsters tamed into submission. In days past, any one of them dropped into a Rukongai district would've reigned as an apex predator.
Now, they bowed to the true dragon crossing the river.
"You're Makoto Fujimiya?"
"Yes."
His demeanor tightened slightly.
Yamamoto's voice remained measured, carrying the deep, magnetic timbre of a seasoned man. "I've heard you possess a gift of limitless growth in battle. Is this true, or merely the power of your Zanpakutō?"
"Hm?"
The blunt question caught Makoto off guard.
Then, quick as a spark, he rallied.
"No."
"It's not limitless growth!"
Makoto straightened, his face a mask of grave sincerity as he corrected the notion. "In truth, it's a desperate measure to survive, a unique Kidō technique of my own. It might look effortless, but every boost to my strength comes at a harrowing cost."
Yamamoto's interest piqued subtly, his tone probing. "A cost? Such as?"
"Like… massive reiatsu drain!"
Makoto hadn't given it much thought before stepping into this room, his mind consumed with silencing his crude, jabbering Zanpakutō. Now, he spun the tale on the fly, his expression effortlessly shifting to one of dire seriousness, as if to say, I'm not kidding around here.
"It saps my stamina in a flash too!"
"And it's a brutal strain on the mind."
"Push it to a certain limit, and it risks my life, could even shatter my saketsu and hakusui… incredibly dangerous."[1]
The words flowed smoother with each breath, his deception seamless. His face gradually took on the look of a man facing mortal peril and emerging scarred. a survivor who'd paid a ghastly price in his clash with Unohana.
Makoto Fujimiya was a master of the cautious path.
One headache-inducing sassy Zanpakutō was plenty. If he didn't stash a few aces up his sleeve, how would he survive what lay ahead?
His logic was crystal clear.
He played the part flawlessly.
Yet, as he spoke, the instructors seated along the sides began to nod faintly.
It started to make sense.
If it were some rare, explosive Kidō trick, a weakling holding his own against Unohana for a brief spell didn't seem so far-fetched.
Only Unohana herself furrowed her brow.
Unlike the others, she'd crossed blades with this boy firsthand.
Still, she held her tongue.
Watching and waiting.
"I see."
Yamamoto took another sip of tea, then pivoted sharply.
"Then, if I were to take you as my student and train you with full sincerity… would you set aside past grievances and devote yourself wholly to the Genji School?"
"Of course!"
The words leaped from Makoto's mouth almost instinctively.
This was the man, the myth, the legend, Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto!
A maxed-out legend among legends!
But the moment his voice rang out, the old bald man gestured to one side of the dojo.
A rotund figure with pink hair and a grand cape billowed in, arriving beside Yamamoto with a flicker of Shunpo.
He leaned in, voice hushed.
"Aside from that last line being subconscious, the rest's all fabricated."
"…?"
"What?!"
Makoto's eyes bulged.
What the fuck, can't we just talk this out?
Why the lie detector?
You're guarding against an upright guy like me?
But in the next breath, something even more bewildering unfolded.
"Argh, damn it!"
A grizzled instructor with a fur-collared scarf slapped his thigh, his face a mask of regret.
"To think such a freak exists!"
"Bet on the wrong horse this time!"
Beside him, a bespectacled man thrust out his hand without a shred of mercy.
"A bet's a bet! Ten thousand kan, if you please."
"I told you, given Unohana-san's nature, she'd never lie about something like this!"
"See?"
"Tch, fine, fine. I get it."
In an instant, the once-quiet dojo erupted into chaos.
Makoto gaped at the pack of degenerate gamblers, incredulous.
If you're all so bored with life, why not go chew on a lightbulb?
"Ahem! Silence."
It took two sharp coughs from Yamamoto to rein in the madness, his brow furrowed as he barked, "What kind of example is this for the young?!"
"Exactly!"
The purple twin-tailed girl leaped up, her lone eye sweeping over the rabble with unabashed disdain.
"In my book, we'd settle this with a straight fight everything laid bare!"
"All this fuss is pointless."
"Hey!"
"You lewd little punk!"
She spun toward Makoto, arms crossed over her modest chest, head tilted.
Saitō grinned with smug delight. With a thunk, she drove her scabbard into the dojo's wooden floor under Yamamoto's rigid stare, then rolled up her sleeves and beckoned him over.
"No sword for you, no sword for me."
"A bout like this ought to do you some good, right?"
"Let's see what this monster's made of!"
"I-I'm not... I didn't-"
Makoto floundered, dazed by the spiraling chaos.
In his mind, the Gotei 13's predecessor should've been a solemn, disciplined force, rigid with protocol, exuding captain-level gravitas at all times.
So why did this feel like a bandit den or a ragtag circus?
Could he even keep up his cautious façade anymore?
"Oh, I get it."
Noticing his hesitation, Saitō's eye glinted with sudden understanding.
The girl paused, then yanked off her snow-white tabi, revealing a pair of petite, lustrous feet. Her delicate toes, unaccustomed to the wooden floor's chill, curled inward slightly, the arch tracing a smooth, graceful curve. [2]
When she tipped onto her toes, the soles flushed a healthy pink.
With a flick, Saitō tossed the tabi at Makoto's feet, hands on hips, laughing boisterously.
"Since you're so obsessed with these, let's make them the stakes."
"Land a hit on my face, and you win."
"Win, and both are yours."
"Lose, and you still get one as a consolation prize… though it's got a hole in it."
"Gotta say, your fetish is downright bizarre."
"First time I've seen anything like it!"
Makoto's face contorted, his features nearly twisting off his skull.
You think you can bribe me with a cute girl's smelly socks?!
This is an insult!
He wanted to bellow his outrage.
But his Zanpakutō beat him to it.
[Ahh~ prprpr!]
[Bare feet forever!]
[Idiot! Get a clue! Pull me out of this lousy scabbard already!]
[I wanna sleep nestled in a cute girl's toes and tabi!!!]
The instructors' stares shifted, now eyeing him like some memetic contaminant or hazardous chemical spill.
Saitō, hands still on her hips, cackled louder at the outburst.
"Hey~ hey~!"
"You're brutally honest about your perverted delusions!"
"I'm starting to like you!"
"Such spirit!"
At that moment, Makoto's heart seethed with righteous fury. He clutched his face, anguish etched deep.
Today, win or lose, he'd be branded a foot freak.
So...
Winning was the only option!
--
[1] The Saketsu(Binding Chain) on a Shinigami is just as important as the Chain of Fate is on a Plus. While there is no chain per se connected to a Shinigami, the area where the Chain of Fate was originally is still just as important as when the Shinigami was a simple soul.
In a Shinigami, the Saketsu acts as a boost to spiritual power, in conjunction with the Hakusui(Soul Sleep), the source of spiritual power. These two points are commonly considered pressure points. If they are pierced, they seal up this spiritual power, and the Shinigami will lose all their power. The Shinigami who experiences this will never be a Shinigami again.
[2] Tabi are traditional Japanese socks featuring a separation between the big toe and the other toes.
[3] Plus, Pluses or Wholes are the benign ghosts in the Human World. They are the spirit of a person who has died.
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