As Fujimiya Makoto left the First Division barracks,
Jukubō Chōjirō stood beside Yamamoto, paused for a moment, then couldn't help but ask in a low voice:
"Captain-Commander..."
"Sending Makoto to face that Quincy... is it really...?"
In front of outsiders, Jukubō Chōjirō was Yamamoto's subordinate and couldn't question his decisions.
But when they were alone, their relationship reverted to that of master and apprentice, leader and deputy.
Even Jukubō, utterly loyal to Yamamoto, often raised questions.
Yamamoto Gensui merely sat still, watching Makoto's retreating figure at the doorway, sipping his tea.
After a long silence, he sighed and spoke:
"Chōjirō..."
"What kind of person do you think Unohana is?"
At this question, Jukubō Chōjirō was taken aback, unsure why the topic had turned to Unohana Retsudō.
But he answered thoughtfully: "A master of swordsmanship, honed through killing, who mastered the 8,000 flows of combat."
"And..."
"The greatest evil Soul Society has ever known."
Yamamoto Gensui slowly added this final description.
He set down his teacup: "You and I are from that era."
"We know how many lives Unohana has taken."
Yamamoto turned to Jukubō, asking calmly: "Do you think someone like her would hold back for a disciple's future?"
"Or would the executioner, once cold, stop killing out of emotion?"
"..."
Jukubō Chōjirō fell silent, unable to imagine Unohana hesitating in battle.
Even those who knew her well couldn't picture it.
Yamamoto's voice was steady: "That's why she's called 'the greatest evil.'"
"Even her beloved teacher, her powerful peers, her gifted disciples..."
"Anyone who could help her improve her swordsmanship, she'd kill without hesitation."
"But precisely because of this, Fujimiya Makoto, who survived her Bankai, earned the title of 'strong.'"
He turned to Jukubō: "Don't judge people by old standards, Chōjirō."
"A genius like Makoto progresses far beyond what we can imagine."
"He's a miracle."
Yamamoto gazed into the distance, exhaling: "All we predecessors can do is lay the foundation and open the stage."
"Then, wait for his miracle."
Jukubō Chōjirō disagreed, though.
When Makoto first joined the Genryūsai Academy, Jukubō had overseen his early, vulnerable training.
He knew Makoto wasn't a born genius.
Instead, he was clumsy, stubborn, and slow to learn, needing time and effort to improve.
To Jukubō, this made Makoto a complete 'person.'
But the one saying this was Yamamoto Gensui, whom he deeply respected.
After a long silence, Jukubō weakly countered:
"But..."
"What if Makoto dies?"
Yamamoto's gaze remained outside, his voice calm and unshakable.
"Then it means I chose the wrong person."
"At that time..."
"I'll take responsibility."
Jukubō Chōjirō fell silent.
The hall was dead quiet.
---
Dust filled the air, stones flying.
A tall figure landed before Shihōin Yoruichi.
Startled, Yoruichi looked up.
"Yoruichi, can you handle this?"
Fujimiya Makoto smiled, turning to her.
Yoruichi's surprise lasted only a moment. She ignored Makoto's taunt and urged:
"Don't let your guard down!"
"That woman can 'erase'—even her injuries vanish."
"Don't let her catch your gaze!"
Though once enemies, facing a common foe, Yoruichi shared her knowledge openly.
Her eyes locked on the smoke.
In an instant, the dust before them vanished, leaving emptiness.
Louise appeared in their sight.
Makoto's expression turned serious.
He knew the Quincy's true power better than any Shinigami.
"Another useless opponent."
"Waste of time."
The pale woman stood silently, her injured face healing instantly.
The wound didn't close naturally but was erased, leaving her flawless as ever.
Louise's face remained expressionless.
Before she could turn to them, Makoto and Yoruichi vanished simultaneously.
With two targets, Louise could only pursue one.
She focused on Makoto, who had struck her earlier.
"Erase."
Louise whispered, extending her left hand toward Makoto.
The ground behind him vanished, forming a massive trench.
No sound, no impact, no tremor—just emptiness where soil once was.
"Makoto!"
Yoruichi shouted.
But before her voice carried far, Makoto's expression turned cold. He pointed at Louise.
"Hado #88: Hiryuugekizushinraihou!"
Without incantation or preparation, his captain-level reiatsu unleashed a quarter of its full power.
Even so, it far surpassed lower-level Hado spells.
Yet Louise erased it instantly—impact, heat, electricity—all gone.
Makoto's eyes narrowed.
Was this attack completely ineffective?
If so...
"Bakudo #26: Kyokkō."
His image split into three, surrounding Louise from all sides.
Louise glanced at the nearby images, then ignored them, looking farther.
Her voice was calm:
"Futile. I can sense your 'presence.'"
But Makoto, hidden behind a boulder, smiled.
"Whoosh—"
The three images struck Louise simultaneously.
Makoto spoke softly:
"This strike is real."
Determinant of Truth: Falsehood Becomes Reality
Louise's eyes widened as she sensed the threat. She summoned a scythe, vanishing.
For the first time, her icy face showed surprise.
"The strike's 'presence'!"
"How?"
Before she could react, she threw a soul-piercing weapon behind her.
But what met her gaze was a shadowy figure in swirling black smoke.
"I'm entangled by the butterfly swarm."
Determinant of Truth: Falsehood Becomes Reality
Louise's eyes widened, her hand instinctively touching her chest.
The blade struck.
The pale woman stumbled back, a deep, bloody wound on her arm.
Louise's gaze at Makoto was now grave.
Colorful butterflies danced between them, obscuring Makoto's features.
Makoto's voice echoed from the swarm:
"Your right hand's locking ability requires a clear 'sight,' right?"
"Conversely..."
Before he finished, Louise extended her left hand toward Makoto.
"Erase!"
The butterflies were torn apart, leaving irregular shapes on the ground.
The 'figure' in the swarm flickered into light.
Louise's expression faltered.
'Exists' yet 'doesn't exist'...
What kind of Shinigami is this?!
Before she could react, Makoto's voice came from behind her.
"Your left hand's ability erases whatever your palm points at, ignoring all rules."
"Right?"
Louise spun, alert.
Her usually emotionless face now furrowed with fear or anger.
Makoto stepped from the shadows, smiling gently.
"And there's a hidden ability."
"Your eyes..."
"Can see through all matter and illusions, can't they?"
Louise's expression darkened, her gaze hostile.
Yet Makoto seemed oblivious to the danger, smiling:
"Our abilities complement each other well."
"Madam."
"Shall we play a guessing game?"
He leaned forward provocatively:
"The 'me' before you..."
"Is it real?"
Though close, Louise's gaze grew wary.
Her moon-shaped eyes darted behind Makoto.
One, two, three... ten!
How could there be so many 'him'?
Watching from afar, Yoruichi, exhausted from battling Louise, stared in shock.
How did Makoto do this?
When did he become this monster?
Is this the same Makoto I once defeated?
Yoruichi felt uneasy.
They were enemies then.
Had he offended this madman recently?
Makoto, unaware of Yoruichi's anxiety, smiled at Louise's wary expression.
"Not guessing?"
"Then I'll take the initiative."
As he spoke, Louise tensed, sweeping her left hand forward.
"Erase him!!"
Her hand sliced through the air, erasing the ground and Makoto's shadow.
But the 'presences' she sensed remained unchanged.
"You can't see me."
Determinant of Truth: Falsehood Becomes Reality
Makoto's voice echoed in Louise's ear.
She swung her sword behind her, slicing air.
But the blade cut her back, leaving a bloody wound.
"Erase!"
The wound and torn clothes healed instantly.
Yet Louise's expression remained tense.
She couldn't find him.
Only his voice lingered like a curse.
"Those who rely on rules will be consumed by them."
"You see..."
"Once I understand your 'rules,'"
"You're not as powerful as you think."
Makoto's voice came from behind her, calm and steady.
Louise frantically erased the ground, to no avail.
"Obstruct, disrupt, conceal."
"Or simply move faster than your sight can track."
"With the right ability, countering you is easy."
"But..."
Makoto paused briefly.
Louise felt a chill at her neck.
Her eyes widened, and she twisted her body.
"Swish—"
The blade sliced through the air.
Makoto reappeared, holding Louise's severed arm.
Blood stained his blade.
Louise's face remained expressionless, her left hand pressing the wound.
Her gaze at Makoto was heavy.
"...Then it's meaningless."
"Tsukishima's life isn't so easily taken."
Makoto turned, meeting her moon-shaped eyes for the first time.
His eyes burned like fire, his voice low and menacing.
"Get up!"
"Let's see who's the real waste."
***********************************************
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