With a single command from Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni—the undisputed core of the Original Gotei—the Shinigami of the entire organization mobilized.
Squads of instructors and graduates were dispatched across the Rukongai, launching a sweeping purge of all Seireitei noble factions from Districts 30 to 80.
When Fujimori Makoto and his group returned to the academy, they saw waves of Shinigami departing in small units, heading in all directions.
At that moment, he hadn't yet realized the sheer scale of this "war."
Unohana Yachiru, upon returning to headquarters, immediately headed for the central dojo to report the mission's details to Old Man Yama.
As for Fujimori?
Well, now that he'd been assigned to the 11th Action Squad, she could "train" him however she pleased.
There was plenty of time for that.
So, like an unwanted burden, Fujimori was unceremoniously dumped on the roadside, left with no idea where to go.
"Ah, whatever."
"I should head back to the dorm. Need to sort out Kirio's situation too."
Fujimori was still wary of Saitō Furafushi, who might be lurking somewhere in the academy, waiting to assassinate him. Staying in his dorm seemed like the safest option.
"Kirio?"
"Here!"
At his call, the pink-haired girl quickly trotted over, clinging timidly to his side.
At least she was obedient.
"Makoto."
"Wait for me at the training grounds later."
Just as he was thinking this, Unohana's calm voice reached him from afar.
Fujimori stiffened.
Damn it, did she hear me trying to slack off?
"Pfft—"
Right as he was suffering, an unmistakable snicker sounded beside him.
Turning, he saw Shutara Senjumaru standing nearby, her fox-like eyes curved in amusement. She wore a mockingly sympathetic expression, though her laughter never stopped.
"So you're the one that crazy woman has her eyes on?"
"Guess fools really do have fool's luck."
"Hah?" Fujimori shot her a sidelong glare, shielding Kirio behind him. "If you're so brave, say that when Unohana-sama's around."
"Better hurry up and fix your junk, Lady Shutara."
From their very first meeting, she'd looked down on him with that condescending attitude. Even someone as patient as Fujimori had his limits.
Kirio peeked out from behind his leg, blinking curiously at Shutara.
Shutara's smirk faltered, her fingers twitching as her knuckles cracked ominously.
"What a sharp tongue."
"Wouldn't it look lovely... sewn shut?"
"You're welcome to try." Fujimori scoffed, though his fingers subtly rested on his sword's hilt.
Why is this old hag acting like a tsundere high school girl?!
Besides, tsundere characters were so last era.
These days, the real appeal was tragic, beautiful, yuri-flavored onee-sans!
Just as tensions peaked—
His damn sword decided to pipe up again.
[Hnngh! Hnngh! Classic beauties are great too!]
[I want Shutara-nee to stab me!]
[In exchange, can I stab her too?!]
[A foul-mouthed, Soul Society-expletive-speaking classical beauty?! That's the best thing ever!!]
[Let me lick her!]
An eerie silence fell.
Shutara's slender fingers, which had been poised to strike, loosened slightly.
Kirio's eyes widened as she stared at Fujimori's sword.
It talked again!
"..."
For some reason, Shutara's gaze became evasive, her cheeks tinged pink as she turned away.
Her red lips, painted like cinnabar paper, parted slightly as if to speak—then closed again.
Her eyes flicked back to him, then away just as quickly when she noticed him watching.
Her left hand clutched her right arm.
"Wait a second!"
Cold sweat dripped down Fujimori's back. "You know that wasn't me talking, right?!"
"O-Of course I know!!"
Shutara's voice cracked, her ears turning redder as she muttered under her breath:
"Soul Society-expletive-speaking, corpse-obsessed, fashion-disaster, single-minded science girls... No man would ever be interested in someone like that. Obviously."
Fujimori paled. "I didn't say that!"
"But... being told someone wants to 'stab me'... is a first!"
Shutara turned away, though her breath hitched slightly. Her fingers twitched, and several horrifyingly large sewing needles slid between her knuckles.
Her gaze when she looked back at Fujimori was suddenly intense.
"Who knew you had such... potential."
"I told you, it wasn't me!"
Shutara frowned. "A Zanpakutō's nature is inseparable from its wielder."
"Denying your true self won't do you any good."
"If it gets bad enough, you might never even achieve Shikai, let alone enter a proper 'Zanpakutō Meditation' state."
Her expression softened imperceptibly as she spoke, almost... encouragingly.
Fujimori felt a deep sense of foreboding.
But Shutara's words had struck a nerve.
"Uh... can normal Shinigami enter 'Zanpakutō Meditation'?" he asked cautiously.
"Hm?"
Shutara's look was incredibly strange.
Her eyes swept over him, then her nimble fingers prodded at his pressure points, her expression growing more baffled by the second.
"You..."
"Have a strong body, enormous spiritual pressure, advanced combat skills—yet you've never entered meditation?"
'Zanpakutō Meditation' was the most basic method of communicating with one's sword, fundamental in any era.
"Honestly... how deep is your denial about being a pervert?"
"Do you really think you're not?"
Shutara seemed to be trying very hard to phrase this delicately.
But as they say—lies don't hurt. The truth is what cuts deepest.
Fujimori felt like he'd been stabbed in the heart.
"I'm not!" he insisted weakly.
"Sure, sure."
Shutara's tone was unbearably patronizing. "I get it. No one likes their sword blabbing embarrassing things, right?"
Then, as if struck by inspiration, she added:
"Oh, right. Want to shut it up?"
"Huh?!"
Fujimori's eyes glowed with hope.
"You can do that?!"
"Of course." Shutara smirked. "But... why should I give it to you for free?"
"..."
Fujimori wracked his brain.
What could he possibly offer someone like her?
...Not his body, right?
Then, inspiration struck.
"Say, after today's mess, where the action squad lost contact with HQ for so long... I bet you'd hate for that to happen again, right?"
"Want to know how to make a simple long-range communication device?"
Shutara's ears perked up, though she scoffed.
"I'm quite confident in my expertise."
"If you're talking about 'Tenteikūra,' save your breath."
"No, something simpler." Fujimori grinned. "A portable, two-way communication tool that transmits spiritual particles via binary frequency modulation."
"I call it... the 'Wireless Spiritual Transceiver'!"
"Er, no—"
"The Reitai!"
His expression was dead serious.
Shutara's eyes widened, staring at him like a monkey had just built an assault rifle.
The next second, she Shunpo-ed right in front of him, breath ragged, gripping his sleeve with manic intensity.
"Details."