His body was shattering.
The rational part of Fujimiya Makoto's mind clearly informed him of this process.
It wasn't a metaphor or an exaggerated expression of pain.
From his hair to his fingertips, then to his palms, wrists, and arms, every part of him was cracking and crumbling inward, forming fragments in the rising reishi flow.
At first, he could still feel pain.
But as sensations like numbness, itching, pain, nausea, convulsions, and excitement flooded his brain, the pain no longer felt unique.
In this state, time and space became distorted.
All sensations flooded his mind, making everything else feel void.
Every second stretched endlessly.
First, his sense of touch vanished, then smell and taste faded, and his hearing's loss made his balance and perception of the surroundings feel unreal.
Until, his vision faded into nothingness.
Time passed, though how long he didn't know.
The long, dark night abruptly lifted.
...
"Huff—"
A long exhale sounded beside his ear.
In an instant, a flood of information poured into his numb senses, leaving him momentarily dazed, standing still.
After a while, he slowly recalled his memories.
Kumoi Kutsuzawa stood in the distance, her plain, thick glasses hiding tightly constricted pupils.
The ground where Fujimiya Makoto had stood was now a massive crater, dozens of meters deep, centered around him.
It looked like an asteroid impact crater, with only a small patch of ground where he stood remaining, a solitary pillar reaching toward the sky.
The intense reishi flow had torn through the sky texture above the underground space, creating a hole that pierced the earth, revealing the research facility above.
Sunlight filtered down faintly.
Fujimiya Makoto stood on the pillar, slowly raising his eyes, exhaling a sword-like, scorching breath.
The vibrant scene reflected in his mirror-like, clear pupils, full of color.
"Ara ara..."
The metallic wheels of Shutara Kyoraku's cart rolled over the debris-covered ground, making a rattling sound.
Her lazy, scattered voice carried a hint of complaint, or perhaps resigned helplessness.
"Makoto-kun."
"I did warn you, didn't I?"
"This is my private space. Don't make too much noise."
The elegant woman's tone was gentle, clearly reproachful, yet she seemed at a loss for what to do with him.
As Kyoraku's cart stopped beside Kumoi, she glanced up.
Her bony hand instinctively covered her red lips.
Her pupils, too, were tightly constricted.
"Ara?!"
Just like Kumoi.
Fujimiya Makoto slowly turned his head, his movements slightly stiff, as if still recovering from being 'shattered.'
He looked confused.
As a breeze blew past, a chill swept over his bare bottom, and he froze.
His hands quickly covered his privates.
"Hey!"
"Stop looking!"
"If you're done looking, at least give me some clothes?!"
Fujimiya Makoto shouted, panicked.
Very urgent.
Shutara Kyoraku still looked shocked, her bony hands gesturing in the air, whispering to Kumoi:
"Did you see that too?"
"It must be this long, right?"
Her hands moved in the air.
Kumoi Kutsuzawa nodded quickly.
"Right, right!"
"It's like a tail grew in the front!"
"I thought I was seeing things."
Shutara Kyoraku's expression was grave, her brow furrowed.
"Very fatal."
Kumoi nodded seriously.
"Indeed, Makoto-kun."
Kyoraku also looked convinced.
"Definitely Makoto-kun!"
Fujimiya Makoto stood there, eyes wide open!
Can you two stop discussing this in front of me?!
Then, the little sword's urgent, annoyed voice sounded.
"Uwaa!"
"Kyoraku and Kumoi saw everything!"
"Now I have to take them both down!"
"Makoto, unleash the orgy!"
Fujimiya Makoto glared at the two shameless women still staring at him:
"Shut up!"
This world is too absurd.
Among the original female captains, only Saito-san is a shy cutie?!
...
After Kyoraku finally took pity on him and sewed a new Shinigami robe,
Fujimiya Makoto's ethereal post-recovery feeling faded, making him feel more grounded.
He also looked at Kyoraku with a hint of resentment, like a wronged wife.
The clothes, sewn in two seconds, nearly rubbed off his skin with her bony hands.
However.
Fujimiya Makoto stood still, shaking his loose sleeves.
The black Shinigami robe draped over his tall frame, outlining his figure. His black hair hung loose, tied with a simple ribbon, and a shallow sword hung at his waist.
He exuded a pure, almost washed-clean aura—except for the little sword.
Kumoi Kutsuzawa appeared beside him, reaching out to pinch his arm.
"You've completely recovered."
"You were completely shattered just now, right?"
Kumoi looked up at him: "Is this one of your abilities, Makoto-kun?"
"Why haven't I seen it before?"
"It's... my trump card."
Fujimiya Makoto looked at his palm.
He wasn't sure either.
Or rather, this was his first time being 'reconstructed' like this.
The feeling was completely different from the system's sudden power boosts.
Even he wasn't sure of his strength now.
The only proof was probably his panel data.
He thought, looking at his personal panel.
Spiritual Power: Second Class Upper
Talent Points: 0
He'd used up all his reserves in one go.
But...
What level had he reached?
Fujimiya Makoto's hand slowly clenched.
As if sensing his eagerness, Kumoi Kutsuzawa smiled at him, her plain glasses reflecting dancing light in her eyes.
"Want to try?"
Fujimiya Makoto turned to her.
Shutara Kyoraku, seeing their familiar interaction, rolled her cart away, retreating to a distance.
These savages...
The moment the thought arose,
"Clang—"
A silver arc flashed too fast for the eye to catch.
Fujimiya Makoto's hand rested on the sword hilt, casually drawing the blade halfway out.
The blades met, humming with immense force.
He slowly continued drawing the sword, segment by segment.
Metal grated against metal, each pull sending sparks flying.
Yet, it was unstoppable.
Until the blade was fully drawn.
Kumoi Kutsuzawa watched, her straight lips curling into an excited smile.
"Boom!"
Spiritual pressures clashed, winds swirling.
The intense gusts between them intertwined, enough to suffocate ordinary low-ranking officers.
But for the two before him, it was just a warm-up.
Fujimiya Makoto suddenly stepped forward, his foot pressing the ground and cracking it in a spiderweb pattern, his strength clearly superior.
Kumoi Kutsuzawa froze.
The next moment, an even greater force surged from the clashing blades, like a landslide, overwhelming her.
Completely unstoppable!
Sometimes, what wakes a girl isn't an alarm, but a collision before dawn!
Sword Technique +1
The blade swept past, its fierce shockwave like a pure white wave, unstoppable across the debris-strewn ground.
Kumoi Kutsuzawa was blown back, her small figure tumbling in the air, leaving a trail of footsteps.
The girl's usually playful expression behind her plain glasses turned serious.
"By what karma do you swallow the sword? Standing on fire, rejecting all evil."
"Kurikara!"
Kumoi's shallow sword was wrapped in black karma flames from hell, transforming into an eight-foot-long naginata in the intense spiritual pressure.
When she looked up again, her eyes were grave.
Fujimiya Makoto still stood, holding the shallow sword.
His gaze reflected his panel.
—Four Arts—
Sword: 14th Stage (29/100)
Fist: 12th Stage (19/100)
Demon: 11th Stage (12/100)
Movement: 14th Stage (33/100)
—END—
Even at fifth or sixth class spiritual power, he'd faced countless battles beyond his level.
Whether against Shihōin Senjirō, Saruapollon, or Unohana,
each time, he'd tried to overcome stronger opponents.
As for equals, they were no match for him.
So, now that his strength had reached the peak of the Soul Society—Second Class Upper...
Could he still overwhelm his peers?
Fujimiya Makoto thought, casually slashing to the side.
"Whoosh—"
The air fell silent for a moment, leaving only a low, buzzing vibration.
Then, clumps of earth rose as if gravity had vanished, flying in the direction of his slash, shattering into endless dust, leaving a long trail.
"Roar—"
The shockwave arrived late.
Fujimiya Makoto looked at the long, collapsed trench beside him, finally turning.
He looked back at Kumoi Kutsuzawa.
Kumoi, equally grave, focused entirely on him.
That slash had proven it.
Fujimiya Makoto was a worthy opponent on her level.
Yet, as she stared intently,
Kumoi's cold gaze suddenly lost sight of him.
"Huh?!"
Before her vision could catch his shadow, her senses brought a stronger 'danger' than sight.
Instinctively, Kumoi Kutsuzawa swung her naginata toward the threat.
"Clang!"
The heavy clash of metal reverberated.
Her small feet in straw sandals sank into the ground, sending stones flying, dust racing away in the wind.
The naginata and shallow sword clashed, then parted.
Kumoi's slender hands gripped the golden rod, spinning to redirect the force. The naginata's blade sliced through the air, repeatedly lunging at Fujimiya Makoto, one strike after another.
Whether the blade's edge or the rod's arc, her years of naginata training were on full display.
Yet, despite this,
"Thud!"
"Thud!"
"Thud thud thud—!"
Her straw sandals retreated, step after step, leaving marks.
Though she had the reach and speed advantage,
Fujimiya Makoto casually swung his shallow sword, advancing step by step.
Every point his blade aimed at was her next attack's focal point.
Such speed! Such power! Such precision!
Kumoi Kutsuzawa's eyes grew brighter, though her expression remained cold.
But if this was all...
"Clang!"
The naginata turned sideways, blocked by the shallow sword. Kumoi's wrist twisted, her retreat halting.
Fujimiya Makoto froze.
The next moment,
her toes curled, force rising from the ground, surging through her waist and back, thrusting her arms forward.
The naginata, clashing with the shallow sword, suddenly extended, stabbing straight at Fujimiya Makoto's shoulder.
The thrust was like a dragon's strike.
"Whoosh—"
The air exploded with a piercing sound.
Fujimiya Makoto twisted, narrowly dodging the thrust.
But then, Kumoi leaped, both hands gripping the naginata, her cold face swinging the blade directly at him.
However, before she landed, Fujimiya Makoto snapped his fingers.
"You can't move now."
False Fixation
Kumoi Kutsuzawa's eyes froze, her body stiffening mid-swing, suspended in the air.
Thus, the frozen figure in mid-air fell into Fujimiya Makoto's open arms.
Soft and warm, making him stumble.
Fujimiya Makoto held the 'immobile' Kumoi, biting her ear lightly.
"This is your punishment for looking!"
"Huh?"
The immobilized Kumoi's eyes widened.