But precisely because of that—when it came time to fight, he never hesitated to shed blood.
The instant Fujimiya emerged from the fissure in the wall, Ilforte's blades were already sweeping toward him with lethal intent.
"CLANG—"
Fujimiya's sword paused mid-air, meeting Ilforte's bone blades with a grating metallic screech. The two slender blades slid and scraped against each other, sending sparks flying.
But just as Ilforte had said—
The balance of their spiritual pressure had already reversed.
"First step!"
Effortlessly parrying the twin blades, Fujimiya abruptly raised his knee—his leg a blur as it lashed out like a whip, slamming into Ilforte's abdomen.
Szayelaporro's petite frame tumbled through the air before barely managing to land on her feet. Yet, a smirk tugged at her lips.
"I knew it."
"There's no way a Zanpakutō this broken could exist!"
Her eyes locked onto the thin wound on Fujimiya's wrist, feeling the slight increase in her spiritual pressure. Her conviction grew stronger.
"All that nonsense about 'rules' and 'scripts'—"
"As long as I defeat you head-on, I won't die in some humiliating way, right?!"
"That's correct," Fujimiya admitted, still smiling despite his injury, showing no sign of panic even as his Zanpakutō's weakness was exposed. He simply gazed at her calmly.
"But… have you considered another question?"
Fujimiya's grin widened.
"Do you know why my Zanpakutō would design such a simple 'spiritual pressure plundering' ability into such a convoluted 'script'?"
"Huh?"
Ilforte was an idiot. She wasn't as smart as her brother and couldn't grasp complex concepts.
But Szayelaporro's expression suddenly changed.
"Ilforte! Get back—don't get close to him!"
"What?!"
Before Ilforte could react, Fujimiya's figure vanished—only to reappear right in front of her, his blade a silver streak as he lunged forward.
Under the pressure of this lethal strike, Szayelaporro's petite, feminized body instinctively raised both bone blades to block!
Two spiritual pressures far exceeding the "Third Level of Spiritual Power" erupted simultaneously. Such immense spiritual pressure also meant equivalent physical prowess—their blades clashed so fast they became a blur.
If Harribel had still been nearby, she wouldn't have even been able to track their movements—her eyes would've only seen a tangled mess of shadows.
But Ilforte, still in control of the body, showed no fear. His slashes grew faster and wilder, his expression increasingly frenzied.
So what if I lost my brother?
Even in this female body—with these annoying extra weights on my chest, my arms and legs shorter—my skills are still the best!
"SHINK—"
The moment their blades crossed, Fujimiya's swing reached its limit.
Seizing the opening, Ilforte whipped his leg around in a vicious kick aimed straight at Fujimiya's abdomen—the air itself screeching as it split.
"CRACK—!"
But Fujimiya's lips curled into a smirk.
Ilforte's pupils shrank—
A sharp pain lanced through his leg.
By the time Fujimiya hit the ground, Ilforte looked down.
And there, embedded in his calf, was a pink syringe.
"Thud… thud… thud…"
Before Ilforte could react, his body changed.
Every sensation—no, not just that—
Specifically, his tactile perception was amplifying at an insane rate.
And it wasn't just limited to normal touch receptors—it was spreading inside his body.
The electric pulses between nerves, the slow grinding of organs against each other, the expansion and contraction of his heartbeat, the flow of blood through his veins—
These were all things that shouldn't have tactile feedback.
But he could feel all of it.
And the most intense sensation of all was—
Ilforte's face paled.
It's that drug!
"Sz-Szayel! Get rid of it!"
"Hurry! Or we're dead!"
Gritting his teeth, Ilforte forced the words out—unaware that his now-feminine face was flushed crimson.
His body temperature was skyrocketing at an unbelievable rate.
"Idiot! You absolute moron!"
"I told you not to charge in!"
"Sever the nerves! Ugh, fine, I'll do it myself—GODDAMMIT!"
"What the hell is this?!"
The moment Szayelaporro regained control, she let out an uncharacteristically shrill scream, cursing like a sailor: "What the fuck is this shit?!"
Fujimiya didn't press the attack. Instead, he stood back, watching with amusement as Szayelaporro struggled to control her violently trembling body.
"I already asked you, didn't I?"
"Why would my Zanpakutō turn a simple ability into a 'script'?"
"The answer is…"
Fujimiya's grin turned vicious.
"To let me cheat—fair and square."
"Enjoy it, Ms. Szayelaporro."
"A body with three thousand times the sensitivity."
"Every sensation—touch, taste, smell, pain… and 'pleasure.'"
"All amplified three thousandfold."
The moment his words landed, Fujimiya shot forward—his blade piercing straight through Szayelaporro's chest with a wet "thunk."
Her already trembling body stiffened like a board—
Then convulsed violently, her eyes rolling back as unbearable agony drowned her mind.
"I'm dying I'm dying I'm dying—!!!"
With a shlick, Fujimiya yanked his sword free, stepping back.
But before Szayelaporro could recover from the torment, thick, inky-black tentacles slithered toward her, coiling around her limbs.
Her eyes widened in horror.
"W-Wait! I surrender! I'll serve you—"
"You bastard! STOP—MMPH!!"
The next second, her body, her will, her reason—all were swallowed by the abyss.
Fujimiya turned away.
A cheerful chime rang in his ears.
[Character: Anti-Demon Ninja Szayelaporro]
[Death Count: 1]
[3] → [2]