"You're afraid of change," she stated flatly.
"And you hate 'uncertainty.'"
"Right?"
Fujimiya's eyes widened slightly.
As expected of the sharpest mind of this era.
She'd seen right through him.
Shutara's voice remained calm. "But Makoto-kun... have you ever considered?"
"People are born to change the world."
"Or rather, the moment you exist, the world begins to shift."
"Whether you want it to or not."
"..."
Fujimiya fell silent.
Yes.
The world had already changed.
The moment he appeared.
"I understand."
Seeing the clarity return to his eyes, Shutara reverted to her usual sarcastic self, sneering:
"Now that you've figured it out, get out."
"Coming to a lady's room in the dead of night just to whine like a child scared of ghost stories... How pathetic, Makoto-kun."
[Huh?!]
[So Fujimiya would be more impressive if he came to Shutara's room at night for something else?]
Shutara's expression instantly turned terrifyingly sweet, her skeletal hand drifting toward her abdomen as she purred:
"You're welcome to try, Makoto-kun."
"Maybe next time."
"Thanks, Shutara."
Fujimiya, still lost in thought, didn't even notice his zanpakutō's remark.
Shutara, however, blinked in surprise at his words.
Her sharp eyes widened slightly.
By the time she recovered, Fujimiya was already striding out the door, vanishing into the night.
His worries had come too late—and were unnecessary.
So what if the world changed?
Some things could only be done by him.
Just like Yamamoto, who had been pushed step by step into his current position by sheer strength.
If Fujimiya Makoto didn't want to fade into obscurity—or worse, become a mere footnote like "Rokujū"—then he had no choice but to keep moving forward.
Until he stood ahead of everyone else.
Even if only for his own safety.
When the choice was between advancing or retreating...
He never had a choice to begin with.
Fujimiya marched through the night, arriving at a simple, unfamiliar courtyard. Spotting Chōjirō Sasakibe standing guard, he announced:
"Sasakibe, please inform the Captain-Commander."
"Fujimiya Makoto wishes to discuss something with him."
Sasakibe gave him a quiet look, then nodded.
"...The Captain-Commander has been expecting you."
"Go on in."
Fujimiya stiffened briefly before quickly composing himself.
"Understood."
...
The month passed swiftly.
On the day negotiations resumed, Ichibē Hyōsube was already seated at the head of the long table in the former Central Underground Assembly Hall, hands tucked into his sleeves as he waited.
Soon, both sides arrived—punctual.
But the attendees gave the monk pause.
Today, Fujimiya Makoto wore a pure white half-coat haori, identical to Sasakibe's.
Sasakibe and Gon'yōmaru stood slightly behind him, signaling his leadership.
Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni himself was absent.
The other instructors seemed indifferent, showing no reaction to Fujimiya taking the lead.
Only Unohana smiled faintly at her student, pride in her eyes.
Meanwhile, Kuchiki Ginrei, seated across the table, looked bewildered.
Ichibē's gaze lingered on the sword at Fujimiya's waist before returning to his face, a flicker of interest in his eyes.
An unusual one, this boy.
Fujimiya took his seat calmly, meeting the monk's eyes as he explained:
"The Captain-Commander is recuperating from his injuries and has entrusted us with negotiations."
"On the final day, he will attend in person."
"That's fine," Ichibē waved a hand dismissively, gesturing to both sides. "Let's begin. This monk is growing impatient."
"Understood."
Both sides bowed slightly, their attitudes respectful.
Then, without preamble, Fujimiya dropped his first bombshell:
"First."
"Let's start by abolishing the title of 'nobility' in the Seireitei."