The three days agreed upon with Yamamoto passed in a flash.
During this brief period, Fujimiya Makoto gradually mastered his newfound power, regaining the precise control he once had, no longer as reckless as when he fought Kumoi.
He also enjoyed a rare 'vacation,' sleeping in for a few days.
"Makoto-niisan! Makoto-niisan!"
"Time to get up!"
"I've made breakfast!"
Kayo曳舟 stood by the bed, hands on her hips, looking exasperated. Her round face was puffed up.
Fujimiya Makoto lay in bed, only stirring when kicked. He groggily sat up, yawning.
The sunlight outside was blinding. He lazily acknowledged her, rubbing Kayo's slightly longer pink hair, earning a pout from the girl.
Since Kayo had been taken by Kyoraku for 'personal tutoring,' she rarely visited Fujimiya Makoto's dorm, usually staying at the Research Institute as free ghostly labor—and child labor.
However, after Kyoraku heard Fujimiya Makoto volunteered to intercept Yhwach, she sent Kayo back, likely wanting them to spend more time together.
Kayo's life at the Institute was unsatisfactory, and Kyoraku's terrible English cooking didn't help. Despite being only a few dozen years old, Kayo had become quite skilled in the kitchen, even flipping pans from a stool.
Fujimiya Makoto, taking advantage, taught her all his cooking skills—and various chores.
Having a loli mom was truly wonderful!
He thought, eating the fried rice Kayo made.
"Makoto-niisan, is it okay to sleep in like this?"
Kayo tilted her head, concerned.
"Hmm?"
Fujimiya Makoto looked at her, confused.
Kayo pointed to the clock: "The senior officers' meeting is at nine, right?"
"Aren't all officers above Tenth Seat supposed to attend?"
He glanced at the clock—the hands were nearing eleven.
Five minutes left.
His eyes widened.
"Damn!"
He rushed, grabbing his Shinigami robe and running out without finishing breakfast.
The bowl spun on the table, coming to a stop.
The room was empty.
"Sigh..."
Kayo sighed, hands on her hips, looking at the door.
"Makoto-niisan is impossible."
"I can't leave him alone!"
...
Fujimiya Makoto ran swiftly, dressing as he went. In moments, he reached the First Division barracks, two minutes before the meeting.
Familiar faces gathered, noticing his spiritual pressure. They paused, then respectfully stepped aside, clearing a path.
He passed without obstruction.
"Fujimiya-kun."
"Fujimiya-sama!"
The senior officers bowed, their tones respectful.
Fujimiya Makoto, slightly surprised, quickly composed himself and walked forward.
Inside, he smirked.
'So this is what recognition feels like!'
'This is power!'
He unconsciously lifted his chin, chest out.
No matter the slander, his battlefield achievements couldn't be erased.
Especially since he'd defeated a Quincy who'd killed a Captain-class Shinigami.
Even these narrow-minded fools must finally acknowledge his strength, right?
Relieved, he felt a weight lift.
Finally, he could hold his head high, free from the little sword's stains!
Even inside the meeting area, many noticed him, their expressions respectful.
Though nominally the Fifth Seat of the Eighth Division, everyone knew his situation. A spot in the front row was reserved for him.
From a distance, whispers began.
"Is that... the rumored... him?"
"He's so young."
"And handsome!"
"Unohana-sama's disciple."
"To achieve so much at his age... truly impressive!"
Though whispered, his enhanced hearing made it clear.
He pretended not to hear, standing quietly, ears perked.
A middle-aged officer sighed: "Who'd have thought such a talented young man would declare, in front of the Quincy leader, that he'd violate all female Quincies?"
"Truly astonishing."
"—Cough."
Fujimiya Makoto nearly choked, his face reddening.
"Wait, that's not right."
A female officer whispered.
He sighed in relief—someone knew the truth.
"I heard he spun Oetsu like a top in front of Kumoi and Kyoraku."
The female officer insisted: "And nearly executed Kumoi on the spot."
Fujimiya Makoto trembled, veins popping, resisting the urge to turn.
Who spread these rumors?!
"Impossible!"
A young officer doubted: "That's Kumoi... have you seen her fight?"
Fujimiya Makoto relaxed slightly.
At least someone was reasonable.
Rumors would end with the wise.
The young officer corrected: "Saito and Kumoi were both deceived by him. Now they're fighting in Kyoraku's underground lab over him... half the Research Institute is destroyed!"
"Fujimiya was stripped naked, unable to stop them!"
He shook his head, sighing.
"So he's a player?!"
"Unacceptable! Both Captains are beautiful..."
The officers criticized, envious.
Fujimiya Makoto turned, spotting Kayōshi Ryūma whispering.
Noticing his gaze, Ryūma stopped, feigning ignorance.
It was you!
Fujimiya Makoto's grudge list grew.
Before he could confront Ryūma, the meeting fell silent.
"Thud."
Yamamoto and the Captains took the stage.
After the room quieted, Jakūhō spoke, summarizing the meeting: rewards, promotions, and honors for meritorious officers.
Normally, it should be uneventful.
But when things seem too normal...
"Eighth Division, Fujimiya Fifth Seat."
As Fujimiya Makoto dozed, Yamamoto's voice boomed.
He started, looking up.
Yamamoto stood, his tone flat: "You haven't forgotten the pledge from three days ago, have you?"
Though a question, it was a statement.
"Yes."
Fujimiya Makoto's expression turned serious.
He wondered why Yamamoto was testing him again.
Yamamoto had surely seen his growth three days ago.
Unfortunately, Yamamoto wasn't one to explain.
He stepped forward, staking his sword, and removed his upper robe, revealing his muscular, scarred body.
The officers gasped.
Jakūhō stepped forward: "All non-essential personnel, leave!"
The officers scattered, retreating hundreds of meters.
Yamamoto stood, expressionless:
"Three days ago, Fujimiya Fifth Seat requested to intercept Yhwach alone."
"To prove himself, he pledged to take three of my strikes in front of everyone."
As he spoke, Yamamoto drew his sword, pointing it at Fujimiya Makoto:
"—Is this correct?"
Fujimiya Makoto realized the discrepancy but nodded:
"Yes."
He drew his sword, meeting Yamamoto's gaze.
It was clear.
Yamamoto was here to test and elevate Fujimiya Makoto's reputation—and authority.
Three strikes seemed simple, but Yamamoto never held back.
If Fujimiya Makoto's candidacy as the next Captain-Commander was previously a rumor, it would now spread throughout the Thirteen Court Guard Squads.
If...
he survived Yhwach.
The officers were stunned.
They knew Yamamoto's strength—the pinnacle of Shinigami.
To veterans who'd seen Yamamoto fight, three strikes were impossible.
Ryūma, among the crowd, froze, looking at Fujimiya Makoto.
He tried to step forward, but a middle-aged officer pulled him back, shouting:
"Retreat further!"
"It's still too close!"
Others echoed, their expressions grave.
The officer looked at Fujimiya Makoto, respecting his courage.
Though a pervert, standing against Yamamoto was awe-inspiring.
Ryūma was confused until...
"Whoosh—"
A low rumble spread from the center, Yamamoto and Fujimiya Makoto's pressures colliding.
Instantly, Ryūma and the officer struggled, their visions blurring under the pressure.
Even hundreds of meters away, the spiritual pressures were suffocating, like being dragged by immense force.
The ground cracked in a spiderweb pattern.
Fujimiya Makoto's expression turned serious.
Yamamoto's eyes showed approval, his voice cold:
"Makoto."
"You're determined, right?"
"If you can't take it..."
"You'll die."