The instant Fujimori spoke, he vanished from Kirio's sight, reappearing in front of Unohana in a blur.
His blade traced a fluid arc through the air.
"Clang—!"
Metal met wood in a sharp clash.
But Unohana's brow furrowed.
Unaware, Fujimori pressed his assault with everything he had!
His deflected sword twisted mid-air, angling toward Unohana's wrist—only to be effortlessly blocked again. Her slender arm, reinforced with Reiatsu, was immovable.
Yet Fujimori was no longer the novice from their first duel. With advanced swordsmanship and near-mastery in Zanjutsu, he could hold his own even in the Original Gotei.
Thrust! Slash! Parry! Cleave!
Their blades moved so fast that sparks of spiritual energy flooded the arena, forming a continuous storm.
[Go! Stupid Fujimori! Don't hold back!]
[Zanjutsu +3]
[Almost! Just a bit more! I want Master's big water drop!]
[Zanjutsu +3]
[You suck! Your posture's all wrong!]
[Zanjutsu +2]
Every strike was precise, every opening exploited. If Unohana faltered even slightly, his blade would pierce her defenses—and her water-drop-shaped...
But the weight behind each of her strikes was crushing.
She was using only the level of strength he displayed.
And she was still holding back to avoid breaking her wooden sword.
Fujimori pushed harder, unleashing more Reiatsu.
Yet Unohana's frown only deepened.
Finally, her patience snapped.
"Clang!"
Her wooden sword jerked upward, shattering Fujimori's rhythm. In a flash, the training blade shot straight for his throat—
And that was when Fujimori finally grasped it.
First Form: Steel-Sundering Strike
Reiatsu erupted around him like flames, the shockwave making even Kirio stagger back.
His twisted wrist corrected mid-motion, his entire body pivoting as his elbow redirected the force—
His eyes were empty.
Unohana's brows rose, a flicker of excitement in her gaze.
"Boom!"
The Reiatsu-clad Zanpakutō collided with her wooden sword—
And the resulting shockwave detonated like a depth charge.
Kirio clutched her chest, her face pale.
Fujimori's blade held—
Then Unohana's wrist twitched.
"Crack!"
Fujimori was hurled backward, skidding fifteen meters across the ground.
Worse—the moment he exited his "First Form," total exhaustion hit him.
His head pounded, his limbs numb.
Like he'd just run a marathon and cycled the Tour de France.
He barely caught himself before face-planting.
[Zanjutsu +10]
Another crushing defeat.
As expected of the future First Kenpachi...
But if this was all he had, she'd be disappointed, right?
Gritting his teeth, he looked up—
And found Unohana smiling.
"So... you channeled 'Kotsuchigiri' into the blade's edge."
"Innovative."
"Reward-worthy."
Fujimori blinked.
Then he saw it—
The shattered remains of Unohana's wooden sword, the handle the only thing left in her grip.
His heart soared.
"Unohana-sensei, does this mean...?"
Unohana shook her head. "I tried replicating your technique mid-strike."
"Failed."
Her gaze, however, was warm.
"Truly, Makoto."
"You have remarkable potential."
"Thank you." Fujimori grinned.
After his time in the Original Gotei, he'd grown to understand the reverence these instructors commanded.
Unohana Yachiru—the undisputed sword saint of the Soul Society.
To earn her praise? That was legendary.
[Where's my reward?!]
[I love Unohana-sensei! I want her big water drop!]
[I'll reverse Oedipus my way to victory!!!]
[Let me—mmph!]
Fujimori strangled his sword with the beads, hissing "Shut up!" before turning a sheepish smile toward Unohana.
Her lips merely twitched—long accustomed to her disciple's... idiosyncrasies.
To a millennium-old warrior like her, a boy's hormonal fantasies were meaningless. If anything, she found it amusing that he still saw her as a woman at all.
"S-Sensei! My apologies!"
"I'll definitely keep it quiet next time!"
And this cowardice... Should I carve it out of him?
Unaware he'd been branded a "quirky little pervert" in her mind, Fujimori sweated profusely.
Unohana continued calmly, "However... your Reiatsu control remains lacking."
"A technique you can't deploy at will is useless."
"You understand this, yes?"
Fujimori nodded stiffly. "Yes, Sensei."
Then, as if remembering his "reward," Unohana reached into her sleeve—
And produced a small token engraved with "Unohana."
"Take this to the Kidō Corps."
"Learn the first thirty basic spells."
"Once mastered, your control will improve."
"Yes, ma'am!"
No room for refusal.
[No big water drop?! At least a hug!]
[Stingy! After all my hard work!]
Unohana's gaze shifted.
Fujimori flinched—
Then froze as Unohana reached out—
And ruffled his hair.
The unexpected gesture left him stunned.
Unohana's voice was soft.
"If you cast aside these distractions, Makoto..."
"Perhaps you'll satisfy me sooner."
Her gentle eyes locked onto his.
Fujimori's throat went dry.
The touch—so rare—filled him with an odd warmth.
(And mild embarrassment—Kirio was watching!)
"Y-Yes, Sensei!"
"Of course." Unohana withdrew her hand, smiling. "If you can't discard these urges alone..."
"I'd be happy to sever them for you."
The moment she said "sever," Fujimori clamped his legs together, a killing intent brushing his groin.
"Ghk—!"
"T-That won't be necessary, Sensei!!"