An indescribable feeling.
In that instant, Unohana Retsu seemed to see a crescent moon rise before her eyes—so beautiful, so chilling, so close it felt almost within reach.
As if she could touch it.
Boom!
A deafening roar.
Naraku clenched his fingers around the bamboo sword. The moment he raised it, he brought it down with force—violent sword-pressure wrapped in razor air burst outward, the explosion-like sound spreading in every direction.
Unohana's gaze sharpened. She lifted her sword on instinct, and at the razor-thin critical moment, a bone-deep chill like a sea of corpses surged up, thick and slippery killing intent pouring out unrestrained.
The tyranny of the First Kenpachi finally revealed a sliver of its iceberg.
Her brutality—unfiltered—was laid bare before Naraku.
The savage Dragon Flash sword-pressure swallowed the white figure. With a cloth-tearing sound, a red line appeared on her pale wrist and blood sprayed out.
Another boom followed. The entire dōjō trembled; dust rained down from above.
Unohana's motion stopped dead. She lowered her eyes to the faint fissure on her wrist and widened them slightly.
Unbelievable.
She had blocked everything—yet her wrist was still cut.
Was this truly pure swordsmanship?
Unohana lowered her bamboo sword and stared at the wound. Under automatic Reiatsu flow, it healed visibly until it vanished.
Only the smear of blood remained, stark against white skin.
After a moment's thought, she looked up at Naraku.
"At the instant you raise the blade, you compress all your strength into a single point. Through resonance with your Reiatsu, you fuse the two briefly into one."
"When you release the slash, the Reiatsu attached to the blade also becomes a sword-pressure of equal force."
"One power—two attacks."
"A very novel sword technique."
Naraku's face flickered with surprise, then turned to admiration.
From the sneak strike to the end of the exchange, he had used Secret Technique: Dragon Flash twice.
A move that would look exquisitely profound to most people—Unohana saw through its essence at a glance.
As expected of the First Kenpachi, who had mastered every sword school under heaven.
"Creativity unlike anything before—whether it was your Kidō-sword art earlier, or this highly inventive pure sword technique now."
Unohana's eyes drifted, settling on the bamboo sword in Naraku's hands.
"Indeed… placing hope in you was the right choice, Sora."
Without realizing it, she'd changed how she addressed him again. Her smile carried a softness rarer than ever.
"But your biggest problem is that your fundamentals in swordsmanship are weak. That means no matter how strong your moves are, without a solid base you still can't fully bring out their power."
"Sora—your top priority now is to forge your basic swordsmanship."
As she spoke, Unohana walked to the rack and set the bamboo sword back—
And, under Naraku's disbelieving eyes—
She took off her captain's haori.
"…?"
"Captain Unohana—what are you doing?"
Unohana looked up while tying her braid, smiling gently as if it were obvious.
"A captain's haori is expensive."
"If it gets damaged in battle, that would be a shame."
Naraku inhaled sharply, a bad feeling rising in his gut.
"Captain Unohana… what exactly are you trying to do?"
"I'm doing something I've been looking forward to for a long time."
Unohana thought for a moment. The corner of her lips lifted, her smile growing even gentler.
"Let's call it… 'indulgence.'"
"Like the wounded squad members recuperating at the General Relief Station."
"No matter how many times the medical staff warn them about forbidden activities, they still can't suppress their impulses and desires."
"I'm not that rebellious… but I do still get excited when I see prey."
The moment she finished, Naraku's sense of dread exploded.
A bone-chilling cold surged from his tailbone up to the top of his skull.
Like an ocean flooding in and drowning him instantly.
He could clearly feel it—behind that gentle smile, her killing intent was growing more and more monstrous, barely contained.
A fruit must be cultivated to ripen.
Since Naraku had this kind of potential, Unohana had no intention of holding back. She would teach him—fast—until he reached the most perfect state.
And then she would harvest him with her own hands.
"Sora. I'm coming."
The instant she spoke, "gentle" killing intent swept in like a breeze. Her refined face was suddenly inches away, a faint clean scent filling his nose.
Naraku reflexively raised his bamboo sword to block.
Thud!
A dull impact shattered the dōjō's silence. Naraku's bamboo sword was knocked aside effortlessly, and overwhelming force pinned him down instantly.
Unohana lifted her gaze. Her soft voice brushed his ear.
"Sora… be serious."
"Or you'll die."
In that instant Naraku bristled like a startled animal. Blood-red Reiatsu exploded out, wrapping the bamboo sword at lightning speed—raising its lethality and giving him a sliver of chance.
He could feel it clearly.
This "mad woman" wasn't joking. She was treating this slaughter with complete seriousness.
Realizing that, Naraku dropped all playfulness. His eyes hardened on Unohana, and heavy pressure swept the dōjō.
"As you wish."
In the raging gale, killing intent cut like ice.
In a blink, Naraku's bamboo sword whipped up a storm of blade-light. Countless dazzling slashes poured down toward Unohana—
As if to shred that slender body into dust.
Unohana's eyes lowered, her heart thundering like drums. Blood that had long cooled now became molten lava again, surging hot through her veins.
Since that incident, she hadn't encountered a young man with this level of potential in a very long time.
A moment of childish willfulness—her own weakness—had once forced a born powerhouse to walk the path of self-sealing.
Now, a new chance was placed before her.
She would not miss it again.
She would seize it with everything she had—no matter what.
Even basic sword forms crushed Naraku until he could barely breathe, yet his instinctive growth let him adapt at frightening speed.
It was like invisible current ran through every inch of flesh. His senses sharpened beyond anything before—so sharp he could read the landing traces of her bamboo sword.
With his extraordinary growth potential, his mind became hyperactive, recording every cutting angle and trajectory, embedding them seamlessly into bodily instinct—
Gradually constructing an unbreakable foundation of swordsmanship.
Watching the boy drink in knowledge and grow freely, Unohana's cheeks flushed faintly. A spark of excitement flickered deep in her eyes.
This was what she had always craved.
At this rate of progress, it wouldn't be long before Naraku became exactly what she wanted.
"I await…"
"…your most perfect moment—"
...
Kuchiki Kōga had never felt better.
Recently, several campaigns into Rukongai against rebel Shinigami had ended in victory—and casualties had dropped to the absolute minimum.
Just like the war that had just ended: he'd suppressed the rebel side almost alone, bringing his own side to true zero casualties.
Even though he'd acted without permission again and made Kuchiki Ginrei angry, Kōga no longer cared much about his father-in-law's feelings.
If the price of "recognition" was sacrificing lives, then what was the difference between that and the rebels?
Besides, it wasn't like no one recognized him.
When he handed rebel leader Akao Retsu over to Naraku and described everything that happened, Naraku praised him highly.
In Naraku's words: the stronger you are, the greater your responsibility.
If you have that power, use it—let it shine, warm others.
Compared to his cold father-in-law, his friend was genuinely lovable.
"Kōga-sama is the strongest!"
"Even without his Zanpakutō, he crushed the rebels!"
"With Kōga-sama here, we don't even need to fight!"
On the way back to First Division, his subordinates excitedly described Kōga's presence in the last war, saying they'd never seen a Shinigami fight like that.
But in that moment of celebration, heavy Kidō Reiatsu erupted in the surrounding streets. A massive curtain-like barrier shot into the sky and instantly covered the entire road.
Everyone stared in shock. Before they could react, a strange ripple of Reiatsu spread through the crowd.
Layers of pale violet light appeared on the Shinigami's Zanpakutō.
In Kōga's disbelieving stare, the comrades who had fought beside him raised their blades—
And, without control, slashed toward their own throats.
"Muramasa!"
His furious voice echoed in his inner world.
Muramasa, still seated on a stone pillar in the sea, looked up in confusion—and through Kōga's vision saw what was happening in the street.
"K-Kōga… this isn't me."
His already pale face turned even whiter at the sight.
His weak defense echoed inside Kōga's mind.
But the truth was right there.
Controlling Zanpakutō to rebel against their masters—fully manipulating Shinigami into killing themselves—was exactly Muramasa's Shikai ability.
Soul Society did not have duplicate Zanpakutō. That was iron law.
Recently, Kōga had already been drifting away from Muramasa because of "that man's" influence, even abandoning his Zanpakutō in combat.
Now his comrades were being driven by something that looked exactly like "Whisper," about to die—
How could Kōga not blame Muramasa?
Were the Shinigami and sword—once bound by trust—about to become strangers?
In a split second, countless images flashed through Muramasa's mind—he even saw Kōga breaking him in half to prove his innocence.
Then Kōga's next words made Muramasa freeze.
"Can you reverse it—can you control those controlled Zanpakutō back?"
"…?"
Muramasa didn't process it at first.
"Can you or can you not?" Kōga's voice grew urgent.
Muramasa snapped back and immediately tried to interfere with the manipulated Zanpakutō using Whisper.
But the moment his Reiatsu touched them, the faint glow covering those blades felt like an immovable mountain.
He couldn't budge it.
"Kōga, I'm sorry, I—"
Before he could finish, Kōga drew his sword at top speed.
"Shikai!"
"Unkillable Hook—Muramasa!"
A violent purple pillar of light surged skyward. In the sweeping gale, Muramasa separated from Kōga's body, wearing his white robe.
"Quick—use Bankai power to interfere with them!"
Muramasa didn't hesitate. He raised his right hand, and massive Reiatsu blanketed the street. A storm of reishi rippled outward.
Two similar forces acted on the crowd at once.
The hands that were about to cut throats finally stopped—frozen in place, trembling violently.
"Kōga—their power is stronger than mine!"
Muramasa felt like he was in a tug-of-war with a giant, yanking back and forth across countless Zanpakutō—
And gradually losing.
"Damned rat."
Kōga cursed under his breath, eyes burning with anger.
He didn't know what was happening, but if he didn't act now, his comrades—who had survived the battlefield—would die by their own hands.
No more hesitation.
Kōga Shunpo'd and vanished.
When he appeared in front of one Shinigami, the man's face was filled with despair—he'd lived through war, only to die at a comrade's blade.
Kōga raised his fist, pulled his arm back, muscles swelling, heavy Reiatsu wrapping around it.
Volcano Burns the Farm!
A plain straight punch slammed down, smashing the Zanpakutō that was about to cut the man's throat cleanly in two.
Clink—metal hit the ground.
The Shinigami suddenly realized he could move again.
"I-I'm not dead?"
He stared at Kōga—at the "killer"—with disbelief.
But Kōga had no time to comfort him. There were still others to save.
That overwhelming figure moved through the crowd.
Terrifying straight punches fell one after another. Zanpakutō after Zanpakutō was shattered on the spot.
The crisp clinking sound became a continuous chain.
A crisis that should have wiped them all out was strangled in its cradle.
From the distance, watching Kōga cut through the crowd, Muramasa's expression turned deeply complicated.
Maybe… that man was right—
In a shadowy corner, the attacker—his entire body shrouded in Kidō Reiatsu—stared in disbelief.
Damn it. The plan has changed!
~~~
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