The great battle had ended, the smoke of war settling.
Fujimiya Makoto lay sprawled on the training ground, limbs splayed out like the character for "big." His shihakushō was in tatters, a swollen lump rising on his forehead, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
His mind was blank, reduced to the three existential questions of the apocalypse: Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing?
His gaze was vacant.
He looked thoroughly broken.
Saitō… is actually this strong too?!
"..."
"Hey! Makoto!"
Yet, Saitō Furafushi—still brimming with unspent battle lust—shouted at him, "—You bastard, you were holding back, weren't you?!"
"Give me some spirit! Spirit!"
"That same energy you had when you fought that little dark-skinned guy! The kind that looked like you were about to devour him whole!"
"Right now, you're not even giving me the urge to trample you!"
"C-can't… fight anymore..."
At this moment, Fujimiya Makoto resembled nothing so much as a middle-aged man who had just exhausted himself fulfilling his marital duties, now sinking into a state of post-climactic enlightenment—utterly devoid of desire, resigned to his fate.
I thought I could take the upper hand before the fight… I was way too overconfident!
I'm sorry, Furafushi-chan.
Who could've known? Who could've known that when Saitō gets serious, she's both insane and unstoppable?
He had activated [Muken-kan], but the moment he took a defensive stance, the petite Saitō had simply brute-forced her way through, slamming his zanpakutō and arm straight into his chest.
His barely healed bones nearly shattered again.
"No good."
"Absolutely no good!"
But just as he turned his head to the side while lying on the ground, Furafushi-chan's tiny foot squished onto his face.
The snow-white arch of her foot rubbed against his cheek, her pearl-like toes curling slightly, nearly poking into his mouth as they wiggled, stretching the corner of his lips.
"Hey! Makoto!"
"Old me is talking to you!"
"Don't you dare play dead!"
Saitō Furafushi's face twisted in displeasure, hands on her hips as she leaned forward slightly. Her toes pinched his cheek and tugged, her voice rising in irritation.
"Damn it!"
Fujimiya Makoto couldn't take this provocation. He immediately swatted her foot away and retorted with righteous indignation:
[A man may be killed, but not tempted!]
[Listen here, Furafushi-chan! Keep this up and I'll bite!]
[You're testing a veteran of the Genji School with this adorable little popsicle of a foot? Huh?]
[What kind of veteran could resist this kind of test?!]
[Watch me suck it—]
The moment Fujimiya Makoto opened his mouth, his obnoxious zanpakutō began its signature rapid-fire commentary.
It specialized in delivering lines faster and more precisely than anyone else—while an ordinary person could say one sentence, it could spit out ten!
"Shut up!"
Hearing the soul-deep roar from his zanpakutō, Fujimiya Makoto instantly lost his composure and clamped a hand over its unrestrained mouth.
But when he looked up and saw Furafushi, he could only awkwardly shut his own mouth as well.
Little bastard zanpakutō, my Soul Society mouthpiece.
I really, truly thank you.
"You… have those kinds of interests?" Saitō Furafushi lifted her foot, examining it, completely unable to understand what was so appealing about feet… or tabi socks, for that matter.
Weren't they just dirty?
The girl looked down at her foot, then at Fujimiya Makoto's innocent expression, as if weighing the pros and cons between fighting and letting him indulge in his… peculiar tastes.
Finally, she made a decision.
"Fine!"
A spark of excitement flashed in Saitō Furafushi's single eye as she clapped her hands together. "If you can actually beat old me, I'll let you have a taste!"
"But this time, old me is going to use Shikai!"
"Otherwise, it's just no fun!"
"?"
Fujimiya Makoto's eyes widened.
"W-who said anything about making such a weird request?!"
"Don't make it sound like I'm some kind of foot-fetishist who collects girls' socks!"
For the sake of his dignity, Fujimiya Makoto immediately cut her off.
"Huh?"
"Trying to push your luck even further, are you?"
Saitō frowned, her single eye radiating sharp killing intent.
But her gaze flickered slightly, almost imperceptibly, toward his abdomen as she growled:
"I'll kill you!"
Her small face was full of menace.
"What I mean is…" Fujimiya Makoto paused awkwardly. "I haven't learned Shikai yet."
"How am I supposed to win like this?"
Saitō Furafushi's expression froze, her face twisting in disbelief as if she'd just heard the most absurd story:
"Ha—?!"
...
"...So, that's the situation."
Fujimiya Makoto sighed deeply, sitting up properly as he explained the peculiarities of his zanpakutō.
It only spoke up when encountering either great danger or girls with smelly feet.
In crowds, it loved spouting inflammatory nonsense.
But during sword meditation, it outright ignored him.
As for revealing its name? Forget about it.
Saitō Furafushi stared at him suspiciously, her expression dripping with skepticism.
Arms crossed, eyebrows raised.
Only after Fujimiya Makoto finished did she lean forward, poking his forehead with her finger as she interrogated him:
"Hey, you..."
"Do I look like someone who's easy to fool?!"
"With your level of spiritual pressure, you should be able to brute-force your zanpakutō's name out by now!"
As she spoke, she kicked his sword lightly, grumbling, "And what kind of perverted zanpakutō starts talking just because it gets stepped on or sees a pretty girl?!"
"I've never even heard of something like that!"
"You're just trying to blame everything on your sword because you want me to step on you, aren't you?!"
But the moment her foot tapped the hilt, a very familiar voice rang out from the ground.
[Yes! This! Exactly this!]
[I want to sleep between Furafushi-chan's toes!]
[P-please! Step on me more!]
[Let me die buried in a girl's thighs!]
Fujimiya Makoto, still holding his sword, spread his hands helplessly, his expression the picture of innocence.
Saitō looked down at his sword, then back at him.
Her single eye filled with utter disbelief.
No way…
Seriously?!
"..."
An awkward silence fell between them.
But at that moment, Fujimiya Makoto's brain suddenly clicked, and a massive idea came screeching into his mind.
He glanced at his still-chattering zanpakutō, then at the stunned Furafushi, and made a bold proposal.
"Saitō."
"...I think I know how to communicate with it now!"
"But… can you help me?"
Saitō Furafushi blinked at him in confusion:
"Huh?"
...
"Wait, wait, wait!"
Saitō Furafushi knelt on the ground, her voice full of protest as she yelled:
"This is wrong!"
"No matter how you look at it, this is just wrong!"
"Who the hell enters sword meditation using such a weird method?!"
Fujimiya Makoto sat formally in front of her, his tone deadly serious:
"Saitō, don't you want to see how strong I can become after achieving Shikai?"
"Guh—"
That single sentence struck right at Furafushi's weakness.
For someone who lived for battle, facing a powerful opponent was the dream of a lifetime.
And someone like Fujimiya Makoto, who grew stronger at an insane rate during fights? That was the perfect opponent!
The only problem right now was that he wasn't fully grown yet!
"But… this is just too weird!"
Saitō was still hesitating.
The girl looked down to see Fujimiya Makoto's zanpakutō resting across her thighs, occasionally letting out blissful noises like [Mmm~] or [Hehehe~].
Fujimiya Makoto's expression was grave: "If things keep going like this, who knows how long it'll take before I can become as strong as you!"
"Furafushi-chan, you don't really want to keep fighting someone who can't even use Shikai, do you?"
His expression was like that of a man blackmailing a housewife with the threat of her husband losing his job—except the words coming out of his mouth were entirely different.
And yet, Saitō Furafushi actually fell for it!
At this moment, Fujimiya Makoto suddenly realized that Tenshirō's words might have been a bit too conservative.
"Ah! Ah! Damn it—"
"Fine!"
After a long internal struggle—and perhaps thinking about how boring life in the Genji School was—Saitō Furafushi finally gave in, waving her hand in resignation:
"You bastard… if I find out you're lying to me, you're dead!"
"Thank you so much!" Fujimiya Makoto let out a sigh of relief.
For the first time in who-knows-how-many days, he finally had hope of establishing even the most basic communication with his zanpakutō!
"Hurry up!"
Saitō Furafushi grumbled.
Then, Fujimiya Makoto buried his face in her lap—
Face-down.
"Mmm—"
Unconsciously, he let out a blissful sigh not unlike his zanpakutō's.
"Hey! Wait, you—"
"Isn't a lap pillow supposed to be the other way around?!"
But just as Furafushi started to protest, she suddenly froze, her voice cutting off.
The girl could keenly sense Fujimiya Makoto's spiritual pressure gradually stabilizing, sinking deeper and deeper until—
Silence.
He had entered sword meditation.