Saying he'd come to "steal the credit" was a bit too blunt.
But with something this big happening to the Araki family, not showing up to stir the pot would feel like an insult to all the trouble they'd given him up to now.
The abominations, however, didn't care who had arrived. Creatures driven purely by instinct, they attacked any living thing in sight.
With bestial roars, several hunched, twisted souls lunged forward. Their claws sliced the air with a shriek, reaching for Naraku's skull, intent on digging out his brain.
Clearly, the clan head's death hadn't taught them anything.
If anything, the heavy stench of blood in the air only excited them further.
But just as those claws closed in, a cold flash of steel bloomed like moonlight in the smoke-filled ruins.
The claws were cleanly sliced off, foul-smelling blood spraying like a fountain.
Then the slash carried through and sheared off half their bodies in one go.
These distorted souls had no sense of "honor." While Naraku cut down the enemy in front of him, a sharp sound of air being torn came from behind.
They'd all once been ordinary noble clan members, but the modification process had turned them into Hollow-like monsters—
Even more brutal and inhuman than actual Hollows.
He blocked the blow behind him with a vertical chop, but his Zanpakutō jammed in the combination of hard skull and tangled black hair.
At that split-second opening, a deafening roar hit him from up close.
Unohana's brows drew together. She was just about to cast Kidō in support when she saw the boy simply let go of his Zanpakutō—his Shinigami soul-forged weapon.
"Yamamoto-sensei said a Shinigami isn't so inconvenient a thing."
With a savage grin, something even fiercer than the abominations took center stage.
As soon as he finished speaking, Naraku released the hilt and thrust both hands forward, clamping them around the abomination's skull from front and back—and squeezed.
Crack!
The warped skull split with an ugly pop. Under the flood of blood-red Reiatsu, it rapidly caved in, facial features twisting out of place before their eyes.
The skin broke apart inch by inch, blood gushing out like a spring and painting the ground bright red in an instant.
The Shinigami stared, dumbstruck, faces full of disbelief.
What did he mean, "a Shinigami isn't so inconvenient a thing"?
What did he mean, "stronger without the Zanpakutō"?
Are we even playing the same game?
Standing in the pool of blood, Naraku smiled at the twisted souls charging him, heavy Reiatsu hanging around him like fog.
The oppressive weight of it swept across the ruins of the Araki estate.
"Now then… it's your turn."
He gave them a warm, almost heroic smile and charged the roaring monsters head-on like a runaway dump truck.
His right fist clenched and drove forward.
Solidified crimson Reiatsu wrapped around it, turning that hand into a true weapon.
One punch—
And the huge estate shook and boomed.
The sound of shattering flesh and bone echoed endlessly.
In an instant, the abomination's claws, its extra arms, even the bones of its upper body were pulverized. Its flesh detonated.
In the howling wind, red blood and chunks of meat flew from its collapsing frame like a tattered banner flapping in the storm.
In Unohana's downcast eyes, Naraku's figure was reflected—her gaze carrying a strange glimmer.
It was as if she were seeing a shadow of someone she once knew.
She had originally planned to step in herself.
But once she realized this battlefield wasn't even enough to keep Naraku busy, she decisively stepped back to watch instead.
Her expression returned to the gentle calm of a "logistics captain."
As if that earlier Hadō blast that shattered an abomination's body hadn't been hers at all.
Before long, the one-sided massacre drew to a close.
With one last punch that exploded the head of the final abomination, the high noble Araki family met its end.
A history of a thousand years or more evaporated in that moment.
The scorched ruins and scattered twisted limbs still spoke faintly of the Araki clan's final, pathetic "glory."
"Seal off the scene."
Once everything settled down, Unohana was the first to step forward, showing the composure and responsibility befitting a captain. She directed the other Shinigami to lock down all traces of what had happened here.
The Onmitsukidō would later come to collect and analyze evidence—doing whatever they could to track down the mastermind behind it all.
"Ninth Seat Naraku."
When everything was under control, Unohana walked up to Naraku. A gentle smile warmed her serene face, soft as a big sister next door.
"As for this disaster with the Araki family—do you have any thoughts on it?"
Naraku's expression brightened in relief. "This is great news, honestly."
Unohana: "?"
Seeing her bewilderment, Naraku simply told her everything that had happened before in Rukongai, as well as the hidden lab he'd found in the high-class pleasure house.
Head-Captain Yamamoto hadn't told him to keep quiet—
So in his mind, that meant he was free to talk.
When it came to noble filth like this, Naraku wanted nothing more than to broadcast it to all of Soul Society.
Unohana listened in silence without commenting, but the smile on her face slowly faded.
The temperature around them seemed to drop, sending an involuntary chill through the air.
"I see."
Her lashes lowered slightly, making it hard to read her eyes.
"They really have sunk to the vilest depths."
"I'll report everything as-is to First Division. Is there anything else you'd like to add, Naraku-kun?"
Perhaps sensing the boy's true nature, Captain Unohana's tone toward him had grown a bit more familiar.
Naraku scratched his head, thought for a moment, then pointed at the few remaining abominations on the ground that were still barely alive—like pointing at leftovers on a table.
"Are you still gonna need those? If not, I'll, uh… take them to go."
Unohana: "…"
She must have been working too hard lately, because she was definitely struggling to keep up with how today's young Shinigami thought.
Creatures like these had no redeemable parts—not body, not soul. Every inch of them had been tainted by that explosive power.
But considering he was Shutara Senjumaru's subordinate, a bit of mental… eccentricity was understandable.
With that thought, a hint of pity flickered through her eyes as she answered gently:
"You can't take all of them. The Onmitsukidō still needs specimens to investigate."
Naraku nodded. He'd just wanted to see if these mutated souls might give him any returns.
Given the Araki family's overall level, though, even if they did, it probably wouldn't be much.
"Naraku-kun, your Hakuda earlier looked rather familiar," Unohana said softly. "That was Head-Captain's Genryū style, wasn't it?"
Naraku admitted it openly.
Unohana smiled faintly.
"Genryū is vast and profound. Very few Shinigami truly grasp its essence—most only ever skim the surface."
"But judging from how you looked while fighting, you don't seem all that skilled with the sword."
Naraku froze on the spot. A chill he couldn't explain crawled over his skin, making him tense up instinctively.
Unohana tilted her head slightly, tone warm as ever:
"If you don't mind… when I have time in the future, I can teach you a thing or two about swordsmanship."