As the meeting drew to a close, a heavy pall settled over the captains, their faces etched with somber reflection. Many furrowed their brows, lost in thought.
It had to be said.
Born of the Rukongai's rough streets, their grasp of this world was woefully shallow.
Chika's mere glimpse into its contours had chilled them to the core.
Some couldn't help but wonder,
Could Yamamoto truly lead them to eradicate the nobility?
His strength was undeniable.
But in a million years, had no one surpassed him?
The faintest whisper of that doubt was enough to rattle the confidence they'd built through ceaseless victories.
After all, the five great noble families still stood.
They had for a million years.
Yet amid this stirring unrest, Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto remained seated, his demeanor unshaken.
He'd foreseen this turmoil long ago, it seemed.
Only Makoto, witnessing the scene, felt a quiet pang of awe.
Until someone achieved true success, no one, not even Yamamoto, could be certain of unending triumph.
Thud!
At last, the old man's weathered sword sheath struck the wooden floor once more, its hollow, resonant tone echoing through the dojo.
He opened his eyes, surveying the assembled captains.
"Does anyone have further questions?"
"…"
Silence cloaked the room.
The sharp-minded mulled strategies; the dim-witted hadn't listened to begin with.
"If there's nothing more, this council is adjourned."
With that, Yamamoto rose and turned toward the inner chamber.
The captains dispersed in turn.
Though no words were spoken, an inexplicable tension hung over the dojo.
Makoto pondered this.
"Haah~"
Danjirō Obana rugged in both build and visage, let out a long yawn.
"Hic..."
Uhin Zenjōji who'd been sneaking sake under the table since the meeting began, hiccupped softly.
Well, so much for tension.
Some spirits remained blissfully unburdened.
Makoto turned back to the brainier captains, their faces creased with worry, and mused that he was likely the most at ease among the room's sane souls.
Besides, it'd been ages since he'd gone home. Time to check on how Kirio and Senjumaru were getting along.
But he'd barely stepped past the threshold when a hand seized his sleeve.
"Uh, um… Makoto-kun."
Makoto froze, turning instinctively.
There stood Batsu'unsai Katori, her face flushed with embarrassment. A faint blush colored her slightly rounded cheeks, her gaze darting beneath her glasses. Her hands clasped nervously before her stomach, accentuating the striking peaks beneath her dark robes, formidable even in their restraint.
Her fingertips, tentative as a schoolgirl confessing to her first crush, brushed his sleeve's edge. She pinched it lightly with two fingers, giving a gentle tug.
"Could you, um, come with me for a moment?"
Katori glanced at the passing captains and instructors, clearly uneasy with speaking in such a public setting, her voice a whisper.
"…I have something to say."
Makoto's steps halted, a flicker of recognition dawning.
Before he could respond, Nobutsuna, a gaunt, consumptive figure, gaped, his eyes bulging in disbelief.
"T-This kid!"
"He's actually got game?!"
"Last time I tried talking to that girl, she nearly cleaved me in two!"
Kinroku adjusted his glasses with a scornful smirk, "With that mug of yours, you dared approach her? Anyone with eyes would want to take a swing."
"Hah!"
"You punk, looking for a fight?"
"Bring it!"
"Back when I ruled North Rukongai, your balls haven't even grown yet!"
"Damn mutt!"
Before the onlookers could fully savor Makoto's spectacle, another erupted nearby.
But Makoto had no time for such distractions.
Katori dragged him into a shadowed corner, lifting her head. Her eyes, framed by glasses, shimmered with hope and a barely restrained yearning.
"Makoto-kun… you've rested for days now. Those months' worth of backlog you owe me, surely you've caught up by now?"
"Can't you give it to me soon? I-I've been holding out for so long."
"Oh, how about tonight?"
"I'll wait at the usual spot."
Makoto's expression twisted into a kaleidoscope of emotions.
She meant his novel serial, of course, the usual spot being the newly built library.
But these past months, he'd been slaughtering foes in the Kūkaku district, his updates long forgotten.
Fighting for his life, who had time for fiction?
Now, things were different.
What happens when a devoted reader, brimming with strength, temper, and an eager wait for updates, discovers their deadbeat author has spent months brawling and slacking, not penning a single word?
Makoto pondered this, forcing a strained smile as he soothed:
"The new chapters… well, I've been writing non-stop while recovering from my injuries. They're, uh, almost done."
"But you know how writer's block goes, unavoidable, right? Might need… one, two, three, maybe four more days?"
"Here's the deal!"
"Next week! I'll definitely have the new draft for you next week."
"…"
"Hm?"
Katori's brows arched beneath her glasses, her tender, pale face shadowed in an instant. Her voice dropped an octave, low and ominous.
"Makoto-kun."
"We had an agreement, didn't we?"
"Three updates a day."
Thwack!
With one hand, Katori pinned Makoto against the wall in a classic kabedon, her glasses sliding down her nose to reveal eyes ablaze with murderous intent. She leaned in, her upper body tilting forward, and her breast slipped free from her pristine white haori, swaying perilously close under gravity's pull.
Teetering, tantalizingly near.
Their warm breaths mingled in the charged air.
But Makoto had no leisure to admire the view.
Katori's voice was flat, "Makoto-kun, you know the consequences of breaking a promise, don't you?"
Yet the more dire the situation, the calmer one must remain.
Makoto pressed his back to the wall, inhaling deeply to steady himself. A gentle smile curved his lips.
"Katori, you've got to trust me!"
Just as he unleashed the full force of his lifetime's yasashii charm, hoping to bluff his way through, the battered blade at his waist, adorned with one white and one pink pair of tiny tabi, spoke up. [1]
This time, it wasn't the lewd, manic, yandere gremlin from before, but the other voice, the rational, soft-spoken maiden who'd once shattered his defenses with a single sentence.
Her tone was light, tinged with curiosity.
[Eh? Is that really okay?]
[After all… not a single word Makoto-chan just said was true, was it?]
[Unohana-mama mentioned earlier that Makoto-chan's leaving the Genji School next week for a mission.]
[If Katori-chan believes you, something pretty terrifying might happen later, you know.]
[Makoto-chan, you'd better start catching up from the first chapter you owe.]
The maiden offered her kind advice.
But her words pierced the ears of both present.
Makoto's eyes widened, his heartbeat skipping a frantic half-beat.
Motherfucker!
Katori's gaze turned frigid, locking onto him.
That hollow, desolate stare regarded him as little more than a talking corpse.
"…"
An eerie stillness stretched between them, swelling in the narrow gap.
Until...
Makoto seized her shoulders, tears streaming as he wailed.
"Katori!"
"There were too many people out there, I messed up! I'll grovel for you!"
"Just give me a few more days, please!"
---
[1] Yasashii is a Japanese word meaning gentle or kind.
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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