Isn’t This a Bit Much, Sensei?

"Thud!"

The moment Säidritz's figure vanished through the Senkaimon, Makoto's head was abruptly knocked forward by a sharp blow.

He turned, bewildered, to see Shutara Senjumaru glaring at him with her usual cold demeanor.

"Makoto!"

"Even a sword-swinging monkey wouldn't be foolish enough to divulge their faction's secrets for no reason!"

"You better not have said that just to show off."

"Or else..."

A slender needle appeared in her hand as her gaze lingered ominously on his lips.

Makoto's eyes widened in exaggerated indignation.

Okiya Genjirō, however, pointed toward a corner.

"Shutara-sama."

"Look over there."

Frowning, Senjumaru followed his gesture.

A Shinigami in noble attire lay immobilized on the ground, bound by a Rikujōkōrō.

The crude spiritual pressure signature made it obvious who had cast it.

Likely a stray shot during the battle.

Given the Soul Society's current manpower shortage—even instructors were scarce—it wasn't surprising that a mere messenger would be this weak.

"I only just remembered."

Makoto sighed. "If the Seireitei has already made contact with the outside world, our information has probably been leaked anyway."

"To deter them from interfering at a critical moment, I exaggerated our strength slightly."

"Even if it doesn't stop them outright, it might buy us time." His tone grew serious. "Given Yamamoto-sama's habits, our final war with the Seireitei can't be far off."

"What we don't want is for them to think the Shihan are as weak as we appeared today—prompting a pincer attack during the decisive battle."

[A pincer attack!]

[I'll stab you in the ○○○!]

The childish voice chirped enthusiastically in their minds.

Makoto nodded. "Pretty much."

Senjumaru's frown deepened, but she eventually conceded.

With their intel already compromised, they had few options left.

Makoto, however, was thinking further ahead. The Seireitei had fought them long enough to know far more than just the basics.

And worse—Yhwach's Almighty hadn't yet been sealed by Ichibē.

Whether he inflated their strength or downplayed it, the risk of a pincer remained.

With a resigned sigh, Shutara Senjumaru relented.

Troublesome times indeed.

"Very well..."

Her delicate fingers absently patted Makoto's shoulder in a rare gesture of approval.

For this brainless fool to show such quick thinking was... unexpected.

"Hey." Makoto narrowed his eyes. "Why do I feel like you're insulting me?"

"Perish the thought." Senjumaru tilted her head, her smile dripping with faux sweetness. "I was praising you."

"So smart."

"Half-hearted!" Makoto grumbled.

[Exactly! Gratitude and requests should come with exposed ○○○!]

[Where's your sincerity, Shutara-san?!]

[If you don't have ○○○... I'll settle for testing the softness of your bone hands!]

The zanpakutō's voice was, as usual, shamelessly enthusiastic—especially around beautiful women.

Makoto immediately snapped:

"Shut up!"

What kind of degenerate fantasy was that?!

He had no interest in bone hands!

Senjumaru's eyebrow twitched at the mention of "no ○○○." Her gaze turned oddly intrigued as she studied him, a sly smile playing on her lips.

"Well..."

"If Makoto has time, I suppose it could be arranged."

Her bone hand elegantly mimed plucking a flower.

Makoto waved his hands frantically. "No thanks."

"Hard pass."

Senjumaru "hmph"-ed softly. What kind of fool turned down free service?

"Then go collect that freak's remains!"

"We still need to analyze them!"

"Me?!" Makoto blinked.

Senjumaru's eyes gleamed mischievously as she tugged lightly at her collar, leaning forward with a whisper:

"Looking is fine... but it'll cost you."

Makoto immediately caved. "No need! I'm good!"

Her needlework alone could stitch his eyelids shut in a blink.

Besides, everyone knew her chest was flatter than a board.

Tch.

Seeing the usually perverted Makoto resist temptation, Senjumaru looked almost disappointed.

What a waste.

—Today, Fujimiya Makoto called me a sharp-tongued, flat-chested, frigid harpy no man would ever marry.

Noted.

Next chance I get, I'm gripping his family jewels with my bone hands.

Senjumaru mused silently.

---

Upon returning to the Genji-juku, the trio reported the incident to Yamamoto, including the Seireitei's contact with the human world and their subsequent countermeasures.

The captured Tsunayashiro Shinigami was also presented.

"I see."

Yamamoto nodded, though he seemed unconcerned about the human-world faction.

The Genji had been weakened in the previous war, leaving little strength to spare for the human realm.

For now, maintaining the stalemate—as Makoto had done��was the best outcome.

Turning to Makoto, the old man gave a rare nod of approval.

"Well done."

"Leave the rest to others."

Makoto knelt in the dojo, bowing slightly.

"Yes!"

"However, Yamamoto-sama." He hesitated. "If this 'Emperor' is as strong as they claim, he may surpass what a few Shihan can handle."

His words were deliberately vague, but Yamamoto's gaze sharpened momentarily.

After a pause, the old man simply nodded again.

The next steps were clear: interrogate the prisoner and analyze the so-called "Light Empire" envoys' physiology.

Makoto knew all too well.

Though Yhwach had existed for over two centuries, calling himself the Quincy progenitor, Quincies themselves were a new phenomenon in the three realms.

In contrast, Fullbringers—who derived powers from Hollows—had existed far longer, their abilities sometimes rivaling Shinigami, though they were exceedingly rare.

But Yhwach was on an entirely different level.

If Yamamoto dismissed them as mere advanced Fullbringers, it would be disastrous.

Yet Makoto couldn't explain how he knew this. All he could do was offer suggestions based on "experience."

But suggestions were all they were.

Still too weak.

As he strode from the dojo, he spotted Unohana Yachiru idly tracing the edge of a bamboo leaf along the garden path.

So sharp...

The serene smile on her face almost made him shudder.

Unohana Yachiru had a fascination with all things lethal.

"Unohana-sensei?"

Noting her presence, he approached cautiously.

"You've recovered well."

Her piercing gaze seemed to dissect him effortlessly, the contrast between her gentle smile and predatory eyes striking.

"I meant to visit earlier, but thought it best to let you stretch your limbs first."

Her mood seemed unusually bright today. "Saitō tells me you achieved Shikai during your fight with that Vasto Lorde?"

"What form does it take?"

At the word "Shikai," Makoto's face stiffened.

How was he supposed to explain that?

"It's... not quite Shikai. More like a partial unsealing."

"Partial?"

Unohana repeated, her smile deepening into something almost hungry.

"To repel a Vasto Lorde with just that..."

"Makoto."

"You'll become quite the remarkable man."

The thought of his zanpakutō's "scripts" made him break out in a cold sweat. "You flatter me."

"It's really nothing special... just a gimmick."

[Who says it's a gimmick?!]

[Fujimiya beat that centaur girl fair and square in the coliseum!]

[She had the reach advantage but couldn't land a single hit!]

[And you were this close to pinning her down and thrusting in and out—]

"SHUT UP!"

Makoto whirled toward his teacher in panic.

Unohana's smile had taken a dangerously interested turn.

"Sensei, let me explain!"

But Unohana was already walking ahead.

"Saitō mentioned you require a... special meditation ritual for your zanpakutō."

"Come."

Makoto stared at her retreating back, the warmth in her smile sending an involuntary thrill through him.

Unohana-sensei's lap pillow...

Isn't this a bit much?

His feet were already moving before the thought finished.