Fujimiya's figure streaked across the battlefield, heading straight for the outskirts, avoiding all bystanders as his speed peaked.
The three sword girls gave chase, each using their own methods.
Sumijima Mera was the fastest, sticking close.
Flames jetting from her limbs propelled her like a rocket, cutting through the air in a straight line toward her target.
By the time Fujimiya stopped at the edge of a valley, she was already upon him.
"CRASH—!"
Sumijima Mera slammed into the ground like a cannonball, kicking up a shockwave.
Her temper was as fiery as her abilities—literally. Sparks flew from her mouth as she spoke, her eyes burning.
"Run?"
"Where the hell do you think you're running to?"
By the time she finished, the other two had caught up.
All three glared at him with murderous intent.
---
"Even if your brain's overheating, you should've realized something by now after seeing your comrades' reactions, right, Sumijima-san?" Fujimiya's voice was calm, his smile gentle as he regarded the short girl at the front.
Sumijima Mera blinked, then glanced back at Hashihara and Tsuchimuro's grim expressions. Her eyes widened.
"You… lured us here on purpose?!"
"Obviously." Fujimiya smirked. "After all, trying to take down all three of you without releasing my Shikai would've been a pain."
At that, even Sumijima froze.
They had served Ōetsu Nimaiya for over a millennium.
In that time, as his primary forgers, they'd crafted countless Zanpakutō.
They knew better than anyone—
A Shinigami's true power lay in their sword.
And Fujimiya hadn't released his even once until now…
A flicker of unease crossed Sumijima's face before she steeled herself, snarling:
"You think you can beat all three of us?!"
Fujimiya smiled.
Then—
Hashihara and Tsuchimuro both sensed the shift in his spiritual pressure. Their eyes sharpened.
"Here it comes!"
A faint pink light glowed deep in Fujimiya's eyes.
Tiny heart-shaped pupils reflected in the irises of all three sword girls.
Fujimiya's voice was soft as he murmured:
"First, let's make a promise."
"Once I pierce your weak points… you'll obey my every word."
The moment those words left his lips—
The three women realized the world around them had warped.
"An illusion?!"
"N-no, this feels real!"
"Since when did Ōetsu forge a blade like this?!"
"A Shikai that alters the environment?!"
Their voices overlapped in shock.
Having witnessed countless Zanpakutō abilities—and being living blades themselves—they knew exactly how unprecedented this was.
This wasn't something Ōetsu Nimaiya's creations could do.
Which meant…
Their eyes locked onto Fujimiya with newfound wariness.
Though it had been centuries since Ōetsu ascended to the Royal Palace, as some of his earliest creations, they still remembered.
Before the invention of the Asauchi…
What the Shinigami of the Soul Society once relied upon.
"Hey, hey." Tsuchimuro Tsumiko, ever the cautious one, whispered. "Don't tell me… a Shin'uchi?"
"No way a Shin'uchi would be this weak!" Sumijima Mera snapped reflexively.
But even she couldn't ignore the unease creeping in as the world around them twisted.
If they lost to some rookie, how humiliating would that be?
As the thought crossed their minds—
Fujimiya stood at the center of the stage, watching them calmly.
With his declaration, the barren valley had transformed into a siege battlefield—a walled city of corpses, broken arrows, wild flames, and tattered banners.
A brutal war had just ended here.
Surrounding the three women were hulking, three-meter-tall humanoid beasts with pitch-black skin, grotesque faces, and bulging muscles. They clutched weapons, their crimson eyes gleaming with hunger.
But though their expressions were fierce, their bodies were dull and gray—lifeless.
The air was deathly still.
Where… is this?
Just as the question formed in their minds, a haunting, childlike lullaby echoed around them.
"When oh, when oh, shall we meet again?"
"At dusk, on Obon's eve!"
"Pinky swear, pinky swear, never tell a lie!"
"Break the vow, and you'll be torn apart!"
"Pass through, pass through, the path to the gods."
"Offer ■■■■..."
Instinctively, the three women formed a triangle, backs pressed together.
But then they noticed it.
Above each monster's head floated a faint, flickering number: [3].
"W-what is this?!" Tsuchimuro Tsumiko tightened her grip on her hammer.
"Don't panic."
"This is the script I've prepared for you."
Fujimiya's voice was serene as he strolled through the battlefield.
"Promises and rules govern everything here."
He explained the mechanics patiently—another part of the script's rules.
By the time he finished, all three women wore identical expressions of shock.
Only then did Fujimiya smile like a gentleman and whisper:
"Yūsei: Pleasure World."