"Hadō 67: Raikōsan!"
Lightning-chained mist erupted, forcing the Genryū forces back as Fujimiya trapped Nimaiya in a cage of electricity.
He grabbed Ōka and retreated, shouting:
"SENSEI!"
Instantly, zanpakutō flew from the mist, aimed at Fujimiya—
—only to be intercepted mid-air by Unohana's blade.
"Clang."
The swords scattered.
Unohana hadn't even moved.
Only Fujimiya, inches away, caught her sheathing motion.
Nimaiya emerged unscathed, ignoring the lightning.
Fujimiya's pupils contracted.
No chance.
Against Soul Society's elite, a "future vice-captain" like him was no different from fodder.
Nimaiya ignored him, focusing on Unohana. He pointed both index fingers at her, grinning:
"Ohhh~?"
"This kind lady's my opponent?!"
"Need prep time~? Nimaiya's a GENTLEMAN!"
Fujimiya's expression turned odd.
So did the surrounding Genryū Shinigami.
Look. The corpse is talking.
His zanpakutō's voice echoed in everyone's minds, mocking:
[You're DEAD! Not even Jesus can save you!]
[Sensei's gonna chop you into EIGHT pieces!]
[All you can do is make shitty swords!]
[Pfft! If Fujimiya had more reiatsu, he'd turn you into a BLACK-FILLED CREAM PUFF!]
Nimaiya blinked, then stared at Fujimiya in amazement.
"Hold up—I don't remember forging a RUDE-ass zanpakutō like this!"
"And it talks in sealed form?!"
"Hey, kid! Let me see that blade!"
Fujimiya smiled sweetly and flipped him off.
"How about you show me your wife first?"
[EW! PERVERT! WHO'S YOUR WIFE?!]
[Fujimiya's a SHOTA CONNOISSEUR!]
[A LOLI POUNDING MACHINE!]
Today, the brat was extra chatty.
Nimaiya's eyes gleamed with fascination.
This was AMAZING!
But before his inner researcher could geek out, Unohana drew her blade.
Killing intent flooded the area.
She looked at Nimaiya, voice icy:
"Underestimating your opponent is unwise."
Nimaiya removed his sunglasses, suddenly serious.
"Seems this lady's no pushover."
He gestured—a discarded zanpakutō flew into his grip.
Two peak Shinigami spiritual pressures clashed.
The air itself crackled.
"Fall back! EVERYONE FALL BACK!"
Fujimiya knew—this level of battle would vaporize bystanders.
"Makoto."
Unohana didn't turn. "Don't interfere."
"Understood."
Unohana's battles were sacred.
"No can do!"
Nimaiya suddenly yelled, waving at his zanpakutō:
"Sweethearts! Hold that kid down!"
"Don't let him escape!"
Fujimiya's eyes narrowed.
"BOOM!"
Several zanpakutō materialized into women, glaring at Fujimiya—
—or rather, his zanpakutō.
They'd heard everything.
Fujimiya glanced at Unohana for help.
She just smiled warmly.
Handle it yourself.
"Tch. Annoying."
Fujimiya dropped Ōka, eyeing the vengeful zanpakutō spirits.
Even in physical form, they'd be tough.
He remembered the havoc Muramasa had caused in the Zanpakutō Rebellion arc.
Just then—
"YAHOO—!"
A flame-haired girl plummeted from above, fists and feet engulfed in fire.
"MEGA—BLAST!!"
A tidal wave of flames swallowed the battlefield, heat turning the center white-hot.
But within the inferno, Fujimiya's voice rang out:
"First Form - Modified: Flame Splitter."
The fire parted like the Red Sea, revealing Fujimiya—unharmed, Ōka at his feet.
"This little spark?"
"Doesn't compare to what I've seen."
[Not bad. 5/10 performance.]
Fujimiya ignored the brat.
Then—wind howled behind him.
A masked, black-haired girl swung a three-meter hammer at his skull.
He kicked Ōka to safety, then blocked the hammer with his scabbard, pinning it to the ground.
His free hand swiped:
"Bakudō 61: Rikujōkōrō!"
Golden rods pinned the hammer-wielder mid-air.
But before he could counter, blonde curls surged from the side.
"Ren! Keep him busy!"
The flame-girl, Sumishima Mera, screamed. "I'll roast him EXTRA CRISPY!"
"Got it!"
The blonde—Hashihara Ren—laughed.
Three against one.
Fujimiya stood in the flames, scanning the battlefield.
Nimaiya's "Royal Guard" was wreaking havoc among the Genryū forces.
Even with only a dozen combat-capable zanpakutō, they were mowing through low-tier Shinigami.
"HEY! Eyes on ME!"
Sumishima spat fire, sealing his escape routes.
The hammer-girl, Tsuchimya Tsumiko, shattered the Bakudō, dual hammers ready.
Hashihara grinned, circling him.
Three enemies.
Fujimiya smirked.
The more, the merrier.
More people meant… a livelier script.