[Event: Bond level with Saito the Immortal increased ↑]
[Reward: None (training fight)]
[Bond trait gained: Foot Art Enthusiast]
[Bond Trait · Foot Art Enthusiast: You, with an extreme passion for girls' feet, have finally stepped onto the ultimate path of "Foot Art."]
[Bond Effect: The further you tread the "Foot Art" path, the higher your shunpo talent cap — current limit broken, talent restriction raised to "Level 8"]
[Note: The first time I saw Saito-chan's feet, how do I put it… it was, even if it sounds crude… hehe, I lost it! — Fujimiya · Face Censored · Makoto (quote) · Recorded in the Great Spirit Book Corridor]
"…"
"What?!"
Once the dojo cleared out, the instructors gone, Fujimiya Makoto stood alone in the wrecked arena.
He was scrolling through the dense flood of system notifications when he stumbled on a small section buried at the bottom.
Instantly, his jaw dropped.
He froze, staring at the line "Recorded in the Great Spirit Book Corridor."
For a moment, he couldn't process.
Snapping back, he bolted like a rabbit, grabbing his discarded asauichi, eyes bloodshot, shaking it like a madman.
"Delete it! Delete that shit, damn it!"
"Written there, it's gonna be seen by a ton of people, right?!"
"It's pure slander!"
"Defamation!"
"You're ruining my name!"
But what good were these pathetic, wailing rants besides making noise?
It was just a blade, after all.
Fujimiya, clutching his beat-up sword, shouted for a while before realizing he probably looked like an idiot.
His zanpakuto, when alone with him, never let out so much as a peep.
It only got freakishly excited when it could stir trouble.
But as he was about to give up, a familiar female voice, laced with a scolding tone, echoed in his mind.
[Looks like you don't get it at all!]
[Let your little sister show you the way.]
[Go grab those tabi, tie 'em to your scabbard, knot 'em tight, and trust me, you'll thank me!]
It spoke?!
Fujimiya gawked at his blade, stunned.
Even in sword meditation, it never bothered with him!
But hearing its words, he gave a half-skeptical look.
His eyes drifted to the tabi Saito the Immortal had left behind.
White, soft.
Probably cotton, barely bigger than a man's hand.
Maybe because they were fresh, or because high-level shinigami didn't have metabolisms, they didn't smell when he picked them up.
They were even… kinda fragrant.
"Huh?!"
Fujimiya snapped upright, tossing the tabi he'd somehow grabbed.
That damn blade was messing with him!
[Hurry! Get on with it, damn it!]
Seeing his reluctance, the zanpakuto grew even more impatient.
Fujimiya wavered, thinking of the shunpo talent cap he'd just broken…
"I'll just… try it a little!"
"Tie them on, then take them off right away."
With that, his conscience eased. He tied the tabi to the scabbard's cord.
That small act triggered an instant reaction on his panel.
[You've advanced further on the Foot Art path!]
[Shunpo (talent cap): "Level 9" ↑]
[Grr! Bliss~!]
Fujimiya froze, gasping convulsively, rooted to the spot.
From now on, he was at this shitty blade's mercy.
But…
If small acts like this could turn an ordinary guy like him into a genius rivaling the Soul Society's elite…
Being a bit "weird" wasn't such a big deal, right?
Faced with such a direct, jaw-dropping effect, Fujimiya started rationalizing!
Once perversion sparks, the world opens wide.
To get stronger, he had to go further down the Foot Art path, damn it!
"Right!"
"That's it!"
"It's the necessary price!"
He raised his zanpakuto high, shouting to psych himself up.
Sadly, those behind him weren't exactly supportive.
"Ahem, ahem."
Fujimiya jolted, whipping around.
Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni, Chojiro Sasakibe, and Genshiro Okikiba stood at the dojo's entrance.
Young Chojiro, out of fellow "fanboy" solidarity, clenched a fist, faking a sickly cough, frantically winking at Fujimiya.
Yamamoto's usually deadpan face bore a heavy expression, his wrinkles bunched up.
Young Genshiro turned his head, covering half his face, unable to look.
In the trashed dojo's center, Fujimiya stood, head high, brandishing his blade. Dangling from the scabbard's cord were the tabi freshly won from Saito the Immortal's feet.
Half an inch more, and they'd be in his mouth.
Like he was dying to try.
No!
To these three, he must've been about to "taste" them while alone, right?!
"Uh?"
"No, no!"
"It's not what you think!"
Fujimiya tensed, his heart sinking like lead, reaching out desperately.
It was over! Huge mess!
But, shockingly, Yamamoto just stared gravely.
When Fujimiya seemed to cool down, he spoke in his deep, mature voice:
"Got everything you need?"
"Then let's go."
Seeing the old man's oddly calm demeanor, Fujimiya felt even more awkward.
But to clear his name, he steeled himself, declaring firmly:
"Actually, I'm not the pervert you think!"
"It's all my zanpakuto's fault!"
As he spoke, the tabi on the scabbard fluttered like a proud, glorious flag, as if backing him up.
Chojiro covered his face.
Hopeless.
Yamamoto, unfazed, turned away, heading toward the dojo's rear courtyard.
As he walked, he lectured in a low voice:
"Teaching without bias is the Genji Academy's creed."
"As long as you haven't disgraced the school, whether you're a pig, a dog, or a pervert obsessed with girls' tabi…"
"I'll treat you the same."
"Follow me."
Those open-minded words stirred Fujimiya's heart.
Finally, someone understood him!
Thinking about it, it made sense!
Even Hakumura later was Yamamoto's disciple, right?
This old man, the strongest for a thousand years, what hadn't he seen?
His little quirks were nothing to him!
Sure, the metaphor stung a bit, but he'd let that slide for now.
"Yes!"
"Master Genryusai!"
Fujimiya, lips tight, face serious, hurried to join the trio.
Chojiro's eyes widened, amazed.
Truly, Master Genryusai!
But as Fujimiya squeezed in behind them, Yamamoto, as if struck by something, scoffed with disgust, waving him off:
"Scram!"
"I didn't say stick that close, there's people ahead!"
"Stay away from me."
Fujimiya: ( ˉ???ˉ )?