"Charge—!"
Screams, roars, and the clashing of steel filled the air.
From above, the two opposing forces—both clad in black shihakushō—looked like swarms of dark ants colliding. The only way to distinguish friend from foe was the red or white hemp ropes tied around their arms. Their eyes burned with fury as they slashed, stabbed, and endured wounds while driving their blades into enemy flesh.
Across the vast battlefield, occasional bursts of immense spiritual pressure erupted—Shikai releases or destructive Kidō—obliterating nearby combatants.
But the moment one side unleashed a powerful Shinigami, the other would counter with one of their own.
No tactics. No strategy.
Just pure, unrelenting carnage!
"Clang!"
Kurayashiki Rōma, who looked no older than a child, swung his blade with terrifying force, cutting down the Seireitei Shinigami who rushed him.
These nobles, most of whom had never faced life-or-death battles against equals, saw a child on the battlefield and pounced like wolves spotting weak prey.
But despite his youthful appearance, Kurayashiki Rōma was already a veteran of countless battles. His small frame bore numerous scars.
"Hadō 31: Shakkahō!"
A crimson blast erupted from his palm, engulfing one of the Seireitei Shinigami in flames. Without hesitation, Rōma pivoted, using his small stature to his advantage—he kicked the bulky Shinigami in the shin, snapping bone with a sickening crack.
As the man staggered, Rōma rolled beneath his wild slash and drove his blade into the man's gut.
Then, using the momentum, he tore the wound open in one brutal motion.
Guts spilled onto the ground. Screams filled the air.
Rōma didn't even glance back before charging his next target.
Though young, he had mastered all four combat disciplines—Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Kidō, and Hohō—in just three years at the Genji School. Even among the elite, he was a prodigy.
His adoptive parents had been killed by Seireitei Shinigami. The moment he joined Genryū, he swore to overthrow the noble clans—preferably by slaughtering every last one.
And for over a decade, he had lived by that oath.
Now, as part of the western vanguard, his dream was finally within reach.
Why would he show mercy now?!
"Die, brat!"
A Shinigami with spiritual pressure rivaling his own descended from above, howling as he unleashed a gale-force wind.
Rōma smirked, unshaken.
Without waiting for reinforcements, he raised his blade and chanted:
"Slaughter the auspicious! Revere decay, sever the gloom—"
"—Gaki Rekō!"
The moment the incantation ended, his sword dissolved into five spherical masses of white flesh, each the size of a bear. At first glance, they looked almost fluffy.
Then, their surfaces began to writhe.
Gaping maws split open across their forms, lined with rows of shark-like crimson teeth.
The Seireitei Shinigami froze in horror.
Rōma grinned.
"Eat them."
The Gaki Rekō lunged forward with Shunpo-like speed, tearing into the enemy ranks. Screams of agony and the sickening crunch of bone filled the air as blood painted the battlefield.
Rōma ignored it all, pushing forward despite the strain of maintaining his Shikai.
Fujimiya-sensei's orders were clear: Break through.
Everyone in the 11th Division knew Fujimiya was an idiot—a pervert who hung girls' tabi socks from his scabbard.
But on the battlefield, his authority was absolute.
And so, his commands were followed without question.
As Rōma carved a path through the enemy, a furious roar cut through the chaos:
"You've got some nerve, Genryū brat!"
Instinct screamed danger. Rōma barely raised his scabbard in time before a shadowy figure crossed dozens of meters in an instant—
"Hah!"
A kick slammed into his ribs, sending him flying. He crashed into one of his Gaki Rekō, tumbling across the ground as blood sprayed from his lips.
The towering man sneered. "Remember the name—Ryūtōji—"
Before he could finish, a golden thunderbolt split the sky.
"Hadō 63: Raikōhō!"
A beam of condensed lightning, over a meter wide, vaporized Ryūtōji's upper body in an instant—along with several Shinigami behind him.
"Thud."
The lower half of Ryūtōji's body collapsed, the severed flesh still sizzling.
Rōma's eyes widened. He turned toward the source of the blast—
"Wasting someone's time..."
"...is no different than murder."
Fujimiya Makoto stepped forward, his zanpakutō still sheathed. The Genryū Shinigami around him straightened, their eyes alight with admiration.
The Seireitei forces, however, trembled.
Their strongest had been obliterated by a single unspoken Kidō.
"F-Fujimiya-sensei..."
Rōma's voice was thick with shame.
But Fujimiya just ruffled the boy's wild hair and shoved him back with a grin.
"Dumbass, charging ahead like that."
"Leave this to me!"
Rōma stumbled, swallowing blood as he stared at Fujimiya's back.
In Soul Society, power was absolute.
Age didn't matter. Appearance didn't matter.
If you could crush all opposition, you became the most imposing figure on the battlefield.
And right now, Fujimiya Makoto—standing alone against a thousand—was the brightest existence in Rōma's world.
He shone like the sun.
That was the ideal Rōma aspired to reach!
Just as the boy's admiration peaked, a cheerful, childish voice echoed from Fujimiya's waist—
[Hellooo~!]
[Good, good! Everyone's so lively today!]
[Now, stand still and line up nicely!]
[Today, I'm gonna strip all your panties off and shove you onto your own scabbards like a human centipede!]
[Boy-girl-boy-girl—!]
[I'll take a hundred of you!!!]
A chill swept through the Seireitei ranks.
The sheer visual was enough to make their hands shake.
To the nobles, Genryū was a monstrous, blood-soaked cabal—a den of murderers and madmen.
From Old Man Yama to Sakahone Saizō, every instructor had been demonized by Seireitei propaganda.
And Fujimiya Makoto?
His reputation was legendary.
Rumors claimed he had tortured the Asahimon nobles in unspeakable ways—so horrifying that the Shiba clan head defected on the spot!
Even the Tsunayashiro clan head had fallen victim, forced to become Genryū's plaything!
Among the most depraved killers in history, Fujimiya stood at the top.
Death was preferable to capture.
The rear ranks broke instantly, fleeing without hesitation.
"..."
The Genryū Shinigami, meanwhile, looked at Fujimiya with respect.
As expected of you, Fujimiya-sensei!
Fujimiya's face went stiff.
The light in Rōma's eyes flickered out.
Fujimiya-sensei was perfect in every way...
...except for his hobbies.
They were just too extreme!!!