The tension of the emergency wing thinned slowly, like steam rising off hot stone. Once the wounded shinigami had stabilized, the room resettled into that particular Division 4 hush—an atmosphere built not on silence but on restraint. The kind of quiet where everyone moves but no one wastes a breath.
Ethan washed his hands with disinfectant kido-water, the faint blue glow rippling across his knuckles. The scent was herbal—clean, faintly minty. He took a second to breathe it in, grounding himself after the rush.
Isane approached from behind, tying her hair back tighter than before. A habit, he realized. She did it when she was rattled.
"You handled yourself well," she said, not quite turning to him. "Most trainees freeze when they see their first spiritual burn."
"I've seen worse," Ethan replied softly.
Isane gave him a curious sideways look. "You say that like someone twice your age."
"Feels like it some days."
She didn't push further—appreciating boundaries was something Division 4 practically trained into you.
Before either of them could continue, a presence brushed the edge of Ethan's senses. It didn't slam into him like a captain's reiatsu would. It didn't flare or announce itself. It just… appeared. Effortlessly. Like someone walking into a room without ever opening the door.
Captain Unohana.
Her steps made no sound.
"Isane," Unohana said gently, "please prepare the post-emergency reports. I'll take Ethan for rounds now."
Isane blinked, startled. "C-Captain? Already?"
Unohana turned her serene smile toward her lieutenant. "He's ready."
Isane gave Ethan a tiny shoulder-nudge. Encouragement mixed with relief and maybe a bit of envy.
Ethan followed Unohana through the long outer corridor. Sunlight filtered through the paper screens, casting a warm grid of shadows onto the wood. The air smelled faintly of sakura carried from somewhere outside the walls.
Unohana walked like someone who had never needed to raise her voice to command authority.
"You adapt quickly," she said without looking back. "Your reflexes in the emergency room were… practiced."
Ethan chose his words carefully. "I've been in difficult situations."
"I can tell." Her voice was calm, but the calm was deceptive. It wasn't soft—it was observant. Piercing. "You hide your reiatsu well. Remarkably well, for an unseated trainee."
"I try not to make trouble."
Unohana stopped.
Just stopped.
Ethan halted behind her, pulse rising. She turned slowly until her face was inches from his—still smiling, still gentle, but her eyes held a depth that felt bottomless.
"Trouble?" she echoed softly. "Ethan, trouble is born from recklessness. You are cautious. Intentional. People like you make waves, even when they try not to."
For a heartbeat, Ethan wondered if she suspected too much.
Then she turned again, as if nothing had happened.
"Follow me," she said. "Let's see how you handle direct care."
---
The Rounds
Division 4's patient wing was quieter than the emergency rooms, but it wasn't peaceful. Every bed was occupied—Shinigami with fractures, burns, torn muscles, spiritual corrosion, overexerted reiatsu channels. Some groaned softly; others slept like rocks.
Unohana stopped at the first bed. A young woman—hair singed, arm in a sling—sat upright, blinking woozily.
"You pushed your shikai too far," Unohana said gently, placing a cool hand on the woman's forehead. "Your spiritual channels are inflamed."
"T-Taichō, I'm sorry—"
"No apologies. Only rest."
Ethan watched her reiatsu move—soft, precise, weaving like silk threads that stitched invisible wounds. There was no wasted motion. No excess power. It was kido so refined it bordered on art.
Unohana stepped aside, gesturing silently for Ethan to continue her work.
He hesitated only a moment.
Ethan placed his hand near the patient's shoulder, channeling the tiniest flow of stabilizing energy—not healing kido, just a steady alignment of the inflamed pathways. He guided the woman's reiatsu to settle, to unclench, to move without scraping the inner veins.
Her breath eased.
Her shoulders dropped.
She slumped back with relief.
Unohana watched him with that same unreadable softness.
"You're very calm," she murmured. "And careful. A healer needs both."
Ethan exhaled slowly. "Just trying to honor the work."
"You do."
They moved from bed to bed.
Ethan learned more in one hour than most trainees absorbed in a month.
Unohana didn't teach with lectures. She taught through presence—through her rhythm, through the way she observed a patient's breathing before their wounds, through the small things. The tension in a jaw. The tremble in fingers. The flicker of unstable reiatsu.
Every time Ethan followed her example, she nodded, faintly approving.
Every time he anticipated a need before being told, she smiled gently.
It was… comfortable.
Dangerously so.
---
A Strange Visitor
By late afternoon, the halls had settled again. The chaos of the hollow attack had faded to a lingering hum. Ethan and Unohana crossed into the herb garden at the back of the division—a patch of sunlight and medicinal plants grown with spiritual soil.
But they weren't alone.
Leaning against the wooden fence, fanning herself lazily, was Captain Soi Fon.
Her gaze snapped to Ethan with hawk-like sharpness.
"Is this the new helper you mentioned?" she asked Unohana.
Ethan blinked. Mentioned?
Unohana hadn't spoken a word about him to anyone while he was present.
"Yes," Unohana replied warmly. "He has potential."
Soi Fon's eyes narrowed. "He smells like trouble."
Ethan stiffened. "That's… a new one."
She stalked closer—small, quick, all precision and suspicion wrapped in a captain's uniform.
"What division were you in before this?" she demanded.
"I'm new."
"No one is just new."
Unohana stepped between them with a gentle motion far more effective than a shout.
"Soi Fon," she said calmly, "Ethan is exactly where he belongs."
Soi Fon clicked her tongue. But she didn't argue—not with Unohana.
She vanished a heartbeat later, flash-stepping away with a soft thunk in the distance.
Ethan let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
Unohana looked at him. "Don't let her intimidate you. Division Two is suspicious of everyone."
"I noticed."
"But," she continued softly, "she's not wrong. You do cause ripples."
Ethan paused. "Should I worry about that?"
"Only if you intend harm." Unohana smiled. "And you do not."
They returned to the ward.
But Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that Soi Fon's sudden appearance wasn't coincidence.
Nothing about Soul Society ever was.
---
End of Day — And a New Signal
By dusk, the sky outside had turned honey-gold. The barracks glowed with warm torchlight. Ethan prepared to finish his shift when the Panel pulsed softly:
[Progress: Division Four Integration +12%]
[New Sub-Objective: Assist Unohana personally during evening stabilization rounds.]
Reward: Increased kido control (minor), increased trust (critical).
Unohana approached as if sensing the notification.
"You did well," she said. "Better than I expected."
"Thank you, Captain."
"But tomorrow," she continued, "will be more difficult. I want you with me from sunrise."
Ethan blinked. "Sunrise? That's—"
"Earlier than your schedule? Yes." Her smile deepened. "But I'd like to test your limits."
He nodded slowly. "I'll be there."
"I know."
Unohana turned and walked into the deeper shadows of the barracks.
For a brief moment, Ethan saw something in her silhouette—something sharp, something old, something dangerous.
And then it was gone.
He exhaled.
Day one in Soul Society was over.
Day two, though…
Day two was going to be something else entirely.