Thwack!
No sooner had Zeidritz's figure vanished through the Garganta than a sudden smack landed on Makoto's head.
He ducked slightly, dazed, and turned with a bewildered frown.
Senjumaru tilted her head toward him, her voice as icy as ever.
"Makoto!"
"Even a monkey wouldn't be foolish enough to casually toss out intel about their own faction like you just did!"
"You'd better not have opened your mouth just to look cool."
"Otherwise…"
A slender needle materialized in Senjumaru's hand, her calm gaze drifting over his lips as if poised to stitch them shut at any moment.
Makoto's eyes widened his face a picture of indignation, nine parts wronged, one part stunned.
Okikiba, however, seemed to notice something and interjected cautiously,
"Senjumaru-san."
"Look at that Shinigami over there."
Senjumaru's brows knit slightly as she followed Okikiba's line of sight.
There, sprawled on the ground, lay a Shinigami clad in the noble garb of the Seireitei. His face was ashen, his body ensnared by a ring of Rikujōkōrō.
The rough, forceful application of Reiatsu screamed Makoto's handiwork.
It must've been a casual strike flung out during a lull in the earlier fight.
The Seireitei was already strapped for capable hands and this mere messenger clearly wasn't anything special.
"I only just remembered." Makoto sighed, a touch of exasperation in his tone. "Since the Seireitei's already in contact with the outside, our intel's probably been leaking one-sidedly for a while now."
"To keep those guys from jumping in and stirring trouble at a critical moment, I exaggerated our strength a bit. At the very least, we're not in all-out war with them yet. Sowing a little hesitation on their end can only help."
"The Genji School's overwhelming power might not stop them entirely, but it can buy us some time." His voice remained steady as he analyzed, "Judging by Captain-Commander Yamamoto's habits, our final clash with the Seireitei isn't far off."
"What I fear most now is if they think this Captain level is all we've got, that we're too weak and they end up forming a pincer attack during the last war."
[Two slices of bread clamping the cheese!]
[This old man's gonna stab your asshole!]
The childish voice of his little broken blade chimed in their minds.
Makoto nodded. "Pretty much what I meant."
Senjumaru frowned but gave a slight nod of acknowledgment.
In an era where their intelligence was hemorrhaging, they were down to just two paths.
Makoto, though, saw further. The Seireitei had been clashing with them for ages, amassing far more than scraps of knowledge. If things took a darker turn… Yhwach's The Almighty hadn't yet been sealed by that bald man.
In truth, whether Makoto painted the Genji School as mighty or feeble, the risk of being flanked remained.
At that, Senjumaru could only let out a resigned breath.
What a chaotic season this was.
"So be it…"
The refined woman dipped her head, her metallic skeletal hands brushing Makoto's shoulder in a gentle, consoling pat.
For this brainless little fool to muster such quick thinking, it wasn't easy on him.
"Hey, hey." Makoto turned to her, sharp as ever, "Why do I get the feeling you're insulting me?"
"Perish the thought." Senjumaru replied, tilting her head away, her almond eyes glinting with charm. "I'm praising you."
"So clever."
"Lame!" Makoto huffed.
[Exactly! Gratitude and requests should come with your ass bared!]
[Show some sincerity, Senjumaru-chan!]
[If there's no boobs… letting me test the firmness of those bone hands wouldn't be bad either, right?]
The gremlin blade chimed in with its usual antics, its voice brimming with glee always eager to stir the pot whenever a pretty big sister was around.
Makoto's face darkened instantly,
"Shut the fuck up!"
What kind of crude bone-play was this?
He wasn't about to mess with skeletal hands!
At the mention of "no boobs," Senjumaru's brow arched faintly. She turned to him with an air of calm surprise, her captivating eyes alight with intrigued amusement as she chuckled.
"On that matter…"
"If you have the time, it's not entirely off the table."
As she spoke, her bone hand mimed a delicate flower-picking gesture.
No malice intended, it seemed.
Makoto waved her off frantically, "No, no, pass!"
"That's a hard no."
Senjumaru let out a soft "hmph." Free perks on offer and this fool still refused?
"Then hurry up and grab that weird woman's limbs for me!"
"We need them for analysis back home!"
"Huh? Me?" Makoto blinked.
Senjumaru shot him a sidelong glance, perhaps recalling the blade's earlier quip. A subtle, enigmatic look crossed her face as her bone hand drifted to her wide collar, tugging it down ever so slightly.
She leaned forward, voice dropping to a teasing whisper,
"Looking's fine, but it comes at a price."
Makoto caved instantly, "No need, no need, thank you very much!"
Forget the rest, her needlework alone could sew his eyelids shut in a blink.
And who didn't know Senjumaru's breast was flatter than a runway?
Tch.
Seeing this notorious pervert pass up the bait, Senjumaru's face flickered with mild regret.
A missed chance to fleece him, such a pity.
'Today, Makoto said I'm a sharp-tongued, cold, flat-chested tomboy threshing floor he'd never marry.'
'Grudge noted.'
'Next chance, I'll crush his lifeline with these bone hands.'
Senjumaru mused silently to herself.
...
Upon returning to the Genji School, the trio first reported the incident's full details to Yamamoto, laying bare the Seireitei's ties to the living world and outlining every subsequent countermeasure.
Alongside them came the unfortunate Tsunayashiro Shinigami, dragged back like baggage.
"I see."
Yamamoto nodded slightly, though he seemed unperturbed by the living world's minor factions.
Or perhaps, after the Genju School's last battle, their foundations had been shaken, lower ranks depleted, and they simply lacked the strength to project power into the living world.
If that was the case, the best outcome was precisely what Makoto had managed, a temporary standoff.
With that thought, the old man turned to Makoto, offering a faint nod.
"You did well this time."
"Leave the rest to others."
Makoto knelt before the dojo, bowing his head.
"Yes, sir!"
"However, sensei..."
"Based on our encounter, if this 'Majesty' they speak of truly possesses the strength they claim, it might not be a minor issue a few captains can resolve."
His words carried a vague weight, and Yamamoto cast him a faintly surprised glance.
Yet, in the end, the old man said nothing.
He merely nodded, lost in contemplation.
What followed was inevitable, interrogating for intel, and analyzing the physical remnants of these self-proclaimed envoys of the Lichtreich.
Makoto knew full well.
Though Yhwach, self-styled Progenitor of the Quincy, had been born over two centuries ago, the Quincy was an anomaly to the Three Worlds, unheard of until recently.
In contrast, Fullbringers, those who gained unique abilities had been active for years. Their strength rivaled ordinary Shinigami, though their rarity made sightings scarce yet the gulf between them and Yhwach was staggering.
If he didn't drop a hint, letting Yamamoto treat these foes as mere enhanced Fullbringers could spell disaster.
Pity he couldn't explain his source, only frame it as personal experience and offer a suggestion.
A suggestion, nothing more.
Still too weak.
As that thought churned in his mind, he strode briskly from the dojo. There, by the stone path in the front courtyard, stood Yachiru Unohana, her hand brushing the edge of a bamboo leaf.
So sharp, indeed.
Makoto caught the smile on Unohana's face and could almost guess what flickered through her mind.
Unohana harbored a peculiar fascination for anything with a cutting edge.
"Unohana-sensei?"
Spotting her by the path, Makoto deduced she was likely waiting for him again. He hurried to her side, voice low as he inquired.
"Hm, you've recovered well."
Unohana's glance alone seemed to pierce through his very frame, her gentle smile clashing strikingly with the predatory glint in her eyes, a breathtaking dissonance.
"I'd planned to check on you once you woke, but thought it better to let you loosen up those bones first."
Sensei Unohana seemed in rare high spirits today, asking, "Saito mentioned you unleashed your Shikai against that Vasto Lorde?"
"What kind is it?"
His face stiffened at the word 'Shikai'.
For a moment, he fumbled for an answer, "Well, it's not quite Shikai, just a partial release of power."
"A partial release… hm?"
Unohana echoed his words, her gaze shifting to him with a hint of surprise, before curling into a smile that sent a shiver down his spine.
"To repel a Vasto Lorde with just that much."
"Makoto-kun."
"You'll grow into quite the man."
Thinking of his little Scripts, Makoto couldn't suppress a twinge of guilt, "You're too kind."
"It's, uh, not really anything impressive… more like a trick, I suppose?"
Just then, the petulant, pouty voice of his gremlin burst into their minds, brimming with indignation.
[Who calls it a trick?!]
[Makoto-sama took down that baddie fair and square in the arena!]
[She had a longer weapon and everything, but she didn't stand a chance, beaten to a pulp!]
[And you were this close to pinning her down and fuck h-]
"Shut up!"
Cold sweat prickled down Makoto's back as he whipped around to face his beloved sensei.
Unohana's smile had deepened, now laced with playful intrigue.
"Unohana-sensei, let me explain!" Makoto thrust out a pleading hand.
But Unohana had already turned, leading the way ahead.
Seeing Makoto still rooted in place, she glanced back, smiling, "Either way, we should get you accustomed to that Zanpakutō soon."
"I heard from Saito."
"You need a very special Jinzen ritual, don't you?"
"Let's go."
Makoto stood behind her, gazing at Unohana's smile, gentle yet radiant with a sunlit warmth.
Even knowing full well this woman was itching to cross blades with him to the brink of death, a flicker of anticipation stirred in his chest.
Sensei Unohana-mama's lap pillow…
Wouldn't that be a bit much?
His mind lingered on the thought, but his feet were already striding after her.
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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