Genji Academy, Sabitsura
The entire way, Chojiro Sasakibe stayed quiet.
Aside from introducing himself and repeating Yamamoto Shigekuni's order, he didn't say another word.
Fujimiya Makoto, keeping up with his shunpo, took in the unfamiliar land from a distance.
Compared to Zaraki's brutal, cutthroat environment, the 64th District, Sabitsura, while hardly wealthy, felt almost peaceful. Signs of life dotted the edges of roads and the foothills.
By the lakes and ponds, there were no more blade-wielding, bloodthirsty "hunters" stalking prey.
At a glance, this place had a certain charm, reminiscent of a prosperous classical era.
"Not bad, right?"
Noticing his gaze, Chojiro, silent until now, suddenly spoke.
"Way better than Zaraki," Fujimiya nodded in agreement.
"It wasn't always like this."
Chojiro's usually icy face softened with a genuine smile, his golden eyes gazing at the distant villages with unexpected warmth:
"I was born in Sabitsura. A thousand years ago, this place was a hellhole, barely better than Zaraki."
"All this is thanks to Master Genryusai."
In just a few words, Fujimiya pegged Chojiro's vibe. Testing the waters, he said:
"Master Genryusai must be one hell of a guy."
"Exactly!"
Chojiro's voice spiked, flashing Fujimiya a "You've got good taste!" grin.
A second later, realizing he'd said too much, he snapped back to his stone-cold, emotionless mask.
But when he looked at Fujimiya, a spark of camaraderie glinted in his eyes.
Fujimiya nodded, amused.
Oh, a fanboy, huh?
Soon, they crossed a lush forested hill and spotted a modest compound nestled in a bamboo grove, with a pond in the courtyard.
Aside from a larger open space, it didn't look much different from the village houses below.
"We're here."
Chojiro, still stoic, stopped at the entrance, switching to a walk.
Before entering, perhaps swayed by their earlier chat, he added:
"Master Genryusai is strict and uncompromising, with everyone, always. Inside, only answer his questions. If he asks nothing, say nothing."
"Got it?"
"Yes."
Fujimiya understood the warning.
From the plot he knew, even a thousand years later, after founding the Gotei 13, Yamamoto had mellowed out.
Yhwach, his old rival, had called him "soft."
So, what was a "soft" Yamamoto like?
In the War of Extremes, he ordered Rukia Kuchiki's execution without flinching, ignoring his disciples' pleas and drawing his zanpakuto mercilessly.
In Karakura, seeing his squad felled by Aizen, he stepped in with Goka Tenro, not caring if his own men got burned.
"Those who protect the Court must die for it." One of his classic lines, embodying "compassion has no place in command."
Rewind a thousand years, the man who built the Soul Society's order must've been a downright beast.
Swinging a blade over comrades' corpses wasn't some deep metaphor — it was a blunt fact.
Fujimiya mulled this over.
But as Chojiro reached the door, a young man with long samurai hair stepped out, reporting:
"Lord Sasakibe, Master Genryusai is holding an instructors' meeting. Regarding your…"
Before he finished, a deep voice echoed from inside:
"Genshiro, Chojiro."
"Bring him in."
The two at the door froze, surprised that Master Genryusai cared this much about the matter.
Chojiro reacted faster, turning to Fujimiya:
"Go on, you can enter."
But Fujimiya, catching their words, tensed up. His left hand instinctively gripped his sword hilt, and he blurted:
"Wait, wait…"
"Instructors' meeting? What's that?"
"Wasn't I just supposed to see Master Genryusai alone?"
Chojiro immediately noticed his hand on the hilt, frowning, but relaxed.
No one was dumb enough to worry about the monsters inside.
What annoyed him was the breach of etiquette, which might reflect poorly on his handling of things.
Still, despite his irritation, he explained dutifully:
"For major events, Master Genryusai, as head instructor, calls a meeting."
"Right now, all the Academy's instructors should be there."
Fujimiya's face fell.
Cautiously, he asked:
"Lord Sasakibe, can I stash my zanpakuto somewhere and grab it later?"
"Honest, my zanpakuto's… got issues. It loves crowds and gets way too hyped."
"If it says something out of line, it'd be super rude."
Chojiro looked at him, puzzled.
Everyone knew a zanpakuto and its wielder were one.
Your zanpakuto's got a problem? But you seem normal enough, don't you?
"…"
"No can do."
Chojiro shook his head:
"Master Genryusai likely intends to test you."
"You're the one Unohana brought back, after all."
That one line slammed shut Fujimiya's sneaky backdoor.
Right.
He might even have to fight.
Dare show up without a blade?
Fujimiya felt his scalp tingle.
Truth be told, he'd wandered Zaraki alone for so long he'd almost forgotten something.
He just remembered how his zanpakuto and that trash-talking system had teamed up from the start, forcing him to grind shunpo to the max.
But he was here now.
Was he gonna turn tail?
Whoosh—
The door slid open.
Chojiro and Okikiba stayed outside.
Fujimiya, face stiff, gripped his sword hilt tightly and strode in, facing the menacing stares of the dozen or so fearsome instructors lined up on both sides of the dojo.
At the front, seated in command, a balding man with black hair in a crescent-moon style could only be the legendary "Blazing Fire Sword," Yamamoto Shigekuni, whose glory would burn bright for another thousand years.
The instructors, curious, eyed him.
Seated near the front, Unohana Yachiru turned her head. Her pale, almost bloodless face lit up with a warm, rare smile that felt like a spring breeze.
Fujimiya's expression stiffened further.
Under everyone's gaze, the dojo was dead silent.
But before Yamamoto could speak, a girl with deep purple twin tails and a single eye, seated at the back, squinted her lone eye. A thin tongue flicked across her lips, her gaze glinting with twisted interest:
"Young, vibrant spirit particles… no matter how many times I see them, I can't resist…"
"This kid's blood must be delicious, right?"
"Really… I can't wait to taste it."
At her words, Unohana's eyes turned ice-cold. She whipped her head around, staring at the girl.
Saito the Immortal met her gaze unflinchingly, chuckling softly:
"What?"
"Want me to taste you too?"
The air between the two women crackled with tension.
The other instructors, used to this, shifted their focus from Fujimiya to the women, eyes gleaming with anticipation, like they were watching a show.
Relieved to be out of the spotlight, Fujimiya muttered inwardly:
If that damn system just shuts up…
But before Unohana could retort, a perky, almost unhinged voice burst from Fujimiya's waist.
It wasn't a sound carried by air.
It rang directly in everyone's minds.
[Aaaah~ Love it!!]
[Quick, taste me!]
Instantly, every movement in the room froze.
That single line plunged the atmosphere into a deathly silence.
Fujimiya's whole body shook.
It's over…
Shit's about to hit the fan!
Then, the girly voice spiked, launching into a frenzied chant:
[Purple twin-tailed, one-eyed, fake-mature loli? LOVE IT! Slippery little snake tongue? LOVE IT! Loli calling herself 'old lady' for that gap moe? SUPER LOVE IT!]
[Please, I beg you, trample me with your cute little white tabi! Stab me with your sword! Lick me with that snake tongue!]
[Can't hold back! I'm at my limit…]
[MOVE IT, QUICK!!]
In a flash, the confused stares turned to sheer disbelief. Everyone whipped around to Fujimiya, their eyes screaming "What the hell?"
This guy… a total heavyweight!
That's Saito the Immortal, for crying out loud!
"Cute little tabi"…?
You're a bit too hardcore, aren't you?
Even Yamamoto, at the center, twitched, his face rigid, his wrinkles practically trembling.
Fujimiya's body locked up, turning an eerie gray-white.
Motionless.
Suddenly, he flung his zanpakuto to the floor.
Then, casually, he kicked it. The battered scabbard skidded across the dojo's wooden floor, still yammering away.
What kinda trash sword?
Ain't mine.
"…"
The purple twin-tailed girl stared silently. Her single eye glowed with an irrepressible scarlet gleam, her fingers dancing excitedly on her sword hilt. Her breathing grew heavier, her smile turning downright bewitching.
Her slicing itch was kicking in.