An abnormally violent burst of dust erupted beneath Shihōin Senju's feet, the hollow shockwave spreading outward and kicking up overlapping white pressure waves in the empty space behind him.
Yet, his figure abruptly vanished from where he stood.
Faster!
Fujimiya Makoto's mind instantly registered the fact.
The next moment, he forcibly squeezed out the last remnants of his spiritual pressure, slashing forward with everything he had.
"First Form—"
But before his blade could descend, the gauntlet encasing Shihōin Senju's arm appeared as if teleported within a meter of him.
"Boom!"
Blade met gauntlet.
In that instant, Fujimiya 's hands transmitted a sensation of hardness far more absurd than an Adjuchas' steel-like hide.
The Dangōchi—his spiritual pressure and will fused to their current limits—felt as though it were shattering apart.
Immediately after, his wrist, arm, and torso were struck by an overwhelming impact, his organs threatening to burst under the force. His already strained spiritual body teetered on the brink of collapse.
"Boom—!"
The shockwave spread, the ground beneath them fracturing.
Fujimiya 's feet, buried in the earth, were ripped free as he was sent flying. The rubble and bricks blocking the path of the shockwave shattered like dandelion seeds scattered by a child's breath, exploding into countless irregular fragments.
A brief collision left a circular, white shockwave in the air.
The lean figure crashed through an uncountable number of walls, tumbling through the air like a brittle reed before finally slamming into the distant ground.
He had blocked it—yet also hadn't.
Faster than before.
Heavier than before.
Is this what a Divinely-Bestowed Armament is?
Fujimiya 's will remained unshaken, firmer even than the moment before.
Though the pain wracking his body clung like an incurable disease, his mind felt clearer than ever.
Less than half a second after landing, as if foreseeing the next attack, he rolled violently to the side, scrambling out of the crater.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
Sure enough, three consecutive heavy blows hammered into the pit.
Had he reacted even a second slower, his head would have been separated from his body.
Before Fujimiya could strategize further, a slender figure shot through the dust, an exhilarated grin plastered across his face.
Both the greaves and gauntlets—at their joint sections—spewed crimson flames resembling lightning, propelling Shihōin Senju forward at speeds surpassing the limits of neural reaction.
Shihōin Senju abruptly appeared before him, a vicious high kick carving a blazing arc through the air, followed by a barrage of rapid gauntlet strikes. The deafening explosions of compressed air merged into a continuous roar. Fujimiya could distinctly feel the air, nearly vaporized under the intense pressure, scraping against his skin like needles.
Yet, Fujimiya 's bloodshot eyes remained icy. As his body dodged at high speed, his Asauchi flashed, slicing through the air and scattering sparks.
Shihōin Senju's voice grew increasingly fervent:
"Come on! Ryōma!"
"Show me your full power!"
Fujimiya , however, remained unmoved. His stamina drained rapidly, his body nearing its physiological limits.
The chatter from the little broken sword in his ear continued unabated.
Yet, somehow.
Despite the dire circumstances, his mind grew calmer.
[Flash Step +10]
[Ah~ Fujimiya -sensei, that's not how counterattacks work!]
[Flash Step +10]
[Little darkie! The silly little darkie is great too! Hurry up and capture him to turn him into a big, scary neé-chan!!]
The moment these prompts echoed in his mind, Fujimiya 's heart stirred.
He caught the key points in the fleeting words.
Not the neé-chan part.
But—counterattacks and silly movements.
That's it.
His gaze snapped to the flames jetting inversely from the joints of Shihōin Senju's armor, his eyes brightening.
This is it!
Unconsciously, Fujimiya loosened his grip on his sword.
Meanwhile, Shihōin Senju's punches grew faster and heavier.
Yet, strangely, the more he attacked, the more awkward he felt—as if each strike landed on cotton, his strength dissipating uselessly. Even the Thunder King Gauntlets, long accustomed to, now seemed to strain against his body.
Then, his eyes caught Fujimiya 's blade.
The moment he threw a punch, the sword appeared to block his gauntlet—yet at the critical instant, the Asauchi shifted like a fish, guiding Fujimiya 's entire body to twist along with the force.
Whether straight punches, jabs, or sweeping kicks, none landed cleanly. Instead, they only exhausted Shihōin Senju further.
This guy…
It's like he's seen through all my moves.
The thought ignited Shihōin Senju's pride. His speed escalated recklessly.
Until, at last—
The inverse flames at the armor's rear reached their peak.
He had accelerated beyond his own control.
In that split second, Fujimiya 's eyes—amidst his relentless retreat—flashed with a brilliance sharper than any blade.
"BOOM—!!!"
A violent dust cloud erupted behind Fujimiya .
He stood sideways, smiling faintly.
Within his gray-white "inviolable zone," Shihōin Senju's face froze in shock, his body tilting forward from inertia.
A complete miss.
Then, Fujimiya moved.
His counterattack—long prepared—erupted with a spiritual blaze that even Shihōin Senju found startling. His tattered Shihakushō and hair fluttered wildly in the storm of spiritual pressure, merging with the flames.
Though Fujimiya 's grip on his sword remained light, the ultra-dense spiritual particles coating the blade had solidified to near-physical levels.
A Shinigami's battle is, at its core, a battle of spiritual pressure.
His spiritual pressure was undeniably inferior to Shihōin Senju's.
But—if he pushed his spirit and will to their absolute limits, even for a fleeting instant—
He could match Shihōin Senju's speed.
And cut him.
Even if only for a moment.
It's enough.
Fujimiya 's body seemed to burn. Tiny spiritual particles, like fireflies, rose from his skin before being locked within the narrow confines of his blade.
He stepped into the opening left by Shihōin Senju's missed strike.
Shihōin Senju's eyes widened in shock as he desperately tried to swing his gauntlet to block.
But he wasn't fast enough.
Within this one-meter radius, their near-touching bodies were almost motionless in Fujimiya 's perception.
Blood seeped from Fujimiya 's crimson eyes, his pupils dyed red.
With Flash Step and swordsmanship pushed to their zenith, his blade and body seemed to melt into a single strike.
This was the gift he had waited so long to deliver.
[Second Form: Like Water]
The name flashed across his status screen.
At blinding speeds, the two figures crossed paths.
Twin trails of scorched earth marked their stopping points.
Back-to-back, meters apart.
"Rustle—"
Shihōin Senju stood frozen.
A long, diagonal slash ran from his chest to his waist, his sash falling to the ground.
Yet, he remained standing.
Beneath his torn clothes, a thin layer of insect-like armor plating was visible—now bearing a deep, jagged scar.
His dark-skinned face twisted with complex emotions as he turned to Fujimiya , who stood on the verge of collapse.
"Sorry."
"Don't call me underhanded, Ryōma…"
But as he turned, Fujimiya was already looking back at him, a relieved smile on his bloodstained lips.
"...Don't say that."
"If anyone should say it… it's me."
Shihōin Senju blinked.
Even now, he couldn't help but admire Ryōma's calm in the face of death.
A sliver of respect flickered in his heart.
You gave it your all…
You really did.
But then, Fujimiya —his body failing—slumped against the wall, blood dripping from his lips as he gasped:
"After all… I was waiting for reinforcements."
"What were you waiting for?"
"...?!"
Shihōin Senju's eyes bulged.
As if sensing something, he stiffly turned his head.
"Crack."
Lightning split the night.
Three silhouettes stood at the crossroads.
Unohana Yachiru, Saitō Furafushi, and Katori Unagashi—each holding their blades—smiled quietly at him.
Silence.
Deafening.