"It's the first time I've seen Captain care this much about an unfamiliar Shinigami."
Watching Naraku's back as he dragged off several still-breathing abominations, the tall girl who'd mostly been standing by like background decoration spoke up, curiosity written all over her face.
Unohana glanced sideways and replied calmly:
"I just saw a trace of an old friend in Naraku-kun."
"Leaving aside his fighting style, just the fact that he dares to draw his blade against nobles is already extremely rare in Soul Society."
"On the surface he looks a bit frivolous, but from our brief interaction, I can feel a very firm conviction deep in his heart."
"Perhaps in the near future, he'll become someone dangerous—someone willing to use any means necessary to achieve his goals."
The girl froze, a dazed look flashing across her innocent face.
She'd only recently become a seated officer and hadn't spent much time with Unohana, so she didn't know who this "old friend" was supposed to be.
But from what the Captain had just said, that strange boy from earlier might very well go astray one day—and become a serious threat to Soul Society.
There was no real evidence for that judgment, but the girl chose to believe her captain anyway.
"So, Captain, when you said you'd teach him swordsmanship, what you really meant was… to help Ninth Seat Naraku walk the right path, right?"
Unohana didn't answer directly. Her lips curved slightly as she replied softly:
"If someone wrapped a flawless gem in red silk, placed it carefully into your hands, and entrusted it to you—telling you to leave your mark upon it…"
"Would you really turn down such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity out of momentary hesitation or fear?"
The girl blinked, completely lost. She had no idea what her captain meant.
Unohana didn't explain further. She simply smiled and gazed into the distance, a faint, nearly imperceptible expectation flickering in her calm eyes.
...
...
The last few abominations, clinging to a single breath, gave Naraku a tiny sliver of gains barely worth mentioning—then finally crumbled, their bodies bursting apart in a mess of flesh and blood.
Naraku didn't have time to mourn the fallen Araki family, because the next act belonged to the Central Prison's top research talent—the "bad woman" behind multiple spiritual-tech breakthroughs.
"Warden, can I really master Shikai just by drinking this?"
Naraku stared at the almost-full cup of milky-white liquid, his face twisted with hesitation.
"Of course not."
Shutara Senjumaru answered with total confidence:
"Can you please stop thinking about shortcuts? A Shinigami has to move one step at a time. Only by steadily climbing can you truly become strong."
"Then why are you giving me this?"
"Don't be impatient."
At some point, Shutara had put on a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. Her usual elegant air now carried an extra layer of intellectual charm.
She pushed the bridge of the glasses up her delicate nose and said solemnly:
"Do you know where Zanpakutō really come from?"
Without waiting for Naraku's reply, she went straight into lecture mode:
"A Zanpakutō's shape, state, and abilities are all constructed from the Shinigami's own soul as the template."
"Which is why the Academy textbooks say that a Shinigami can obtain greater power by learning the name of the Zanpakutō born from their soul and conversing with it."
"But in truth, that understanding is far too shallow."
"At its root, a Zanpakutō is the Shinigami's own power. Its 'existence' is just a medium to help them fully draw out the strength hidden deep within their soul."
"So rather than calling Shikai 'learning the true name,' it's more accurate to say it's the process of grasping the true nature of your own power."
Naraku nodded slowly, thoughtful.
Her heart might be pitch-black, but sometimes, this bad woman was actually pretty useful.
"Anyway, judging from how you've been lately, you're already on the right path," Shutara went on cheerfully.
"Whether it was outmatching stronger opponents in Elysium House, going against rank in First Division, or grinding yourself down in the spirit-body chamber—"
"All of it is actually you learning to understand your own power."
"And what I can do is give you a push. This time, we're going big."
Naraku: "?"
For some reason, seeing Shutara's delighted smile filled him with a deep sense of crisis.
The last time he'd had this feeling was back in the Academy, right before he snuck a bite of the tofu Aizen had put aside for a late-night snack.
As for how that turned out… best not to talk about it.
A true warrior never looks back.
"Relax, relax. How could big sis ever set you up?"
Shutara patted Naraku's shoulder lightly. While soothing him, she dropped a sealed pill into the cup of milky liquid.
"Here, brat. Drink this first."
"No way. Even if I starve to death, even if I keel over right here, even if I jump out that window, I'm never drinking some shady—"
Halfway through, a rich aroma muscled its way into his nose, forcibly blocking the rest of his sentence.
"What is this?"
Shutara's smile turned sly. "Remember when I said I'd designed a Shikai development technique with you as the template?"
"As a one-of-a-kind, perfectly hollowfied Shinigami, you've already gained some Hollow traits—Hierro, high-speed regeneration, that sort of thing."
"But there are downsides too."
"For example—Hollow bait."
"A drug the Quincy clan used specifically to lure in ordinary Hollows. After adjusting the parameters, I made it effective on some Menos as well."
"But since you're still fundamentally a Shinigami, the effect on you is very weak."
"At most, it's like a normal person seeing their favorite food. You can refuse it using pure willpower."
"This is a good chance to patch that flaw, don't you think?"
After a moment's hesitation, Naraku picked up the cup and downed it in one go. An indescribable feeling of fullness spread through his body, then seeped into his very soul.
It felt like once he finished this drink, he would never feel hunger again.
But just as he was about to savor that feeling, a wave of dizziness crashed over him. His vision went dark, and he dropped like a rock—
Right into a soft pair of arms.
Looking down at the sleeping boy, Shutara smiled, clearly pleased.
"I hope you like the dream I've woven for you with my own hands."
Before him stretched an endless sea of Hollows, and Naraku's eyes went blank for a second.
He had a pretty good guess that this was the bad woman's handiwork… but he still couldn't help a strong, crushing sense of helplessness.
Everywhere he looked, there were snarling masks and vicious killing intent. Among them were Gillian-class and even Adjuchas-class Menos Grandes.
Just the overflow of their Reiatsu alone was enough to make anyone despair.
But things had already gone this far. Giving up halfway wasn't his style.
If it was probably fake anyway—then he might as well see where his true limit lay.
To the deafening roars and howls, Naraku raised his blade and charged into the endless sea of Hollows.
The slaughter—
Began.