Afternoon sunlight filtered lazily through the latticework of the Fourth Division Barracks' paper sliding doors, casting dappled shadows across the clean tatami mats.
The faint bitterness of medicinal herbs mingled with the cool scent of lingering spirit particles. Everything seemed peaceful, serene.
Lieutenant Isane Kotetsu carried a thick stack of documents and gently pushed open the Captain's Office door.
Her gaze instinctively sought the figure behind the desk.
Captain Unohana sat upright, pen in hand, reviewing a treatment report concerning abnormal Souls in Rukongai. Her demeanor was calm, focused—a picture of gentle authority.
"Captain," Isane said softly, placing the documents on the corner of the desk, "this is the summary of Spiritual Pressure Stabilizer consumption for the last quarter from the Research and Development Bureau, along with Shino Academy's request for assistance in assessing the Soul resilience of the next batch of students."
"Thank you, Isane," Unohana replied, a gentle curve forming on her lips as her gaze rested on her lieutenant. Her eyes radiated a warmth that could calm even the most anxious heart.
Among the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, nearly everyone regarded Unohana as the gentlest Captain. Being chosen as her assistant was the highest honor Isane could imagine.
"Leave the Research Bureau's report. I will handle it," Unohana continued. "As for the Shino Academy request, coordinate with the Third Seat to provide assistance next week."
"Yes, Captain," Isane replied, but paused.
Something felt… off.
The Captain's smile remained serene, yet her eyes flickered for a fraction of a second—like an elusive shadow skimming beneath a still lake. Her fingers gripped the pen tighter than usual, knuckles whitening almost imperceptibly.
"Captain, are you… tired?" Isane asked cautiously, stepping closer. "Shall I prepare calming tea or postpone the assessments?"
Unohana shook her head slightly, her smile deepening with gentle reassurance. "No need. I am fine."
Isane hesitated, still sensing something amiss. She finally bowed and withdrew, leaving the door sliding shut behind her.
The moment she was gone, Unohana's smile faded like the tide, leaving only a deep, bone-weary sorrow.
She pressed her fingertips to her brow, attempting to dispel the dizziness that had nothing to do with fatigue.
Deep within her Soul, the Seal concealing the Killing Intent of the First Kenpachi—layered over a millennium of time and tempered by a healer's compassion—had flinched.
Something had pierced her defenses. A force raged within, threatening to open a fatal crack.
As she struggled to regain composure, her fingertip brushed the edge of the open report. The paper, impossibly thin, should have offered no resistance.
Shhh.
A faint, unnerving tearing sound rang out.
Unohana's pupils contracted. She looked down: the edge of the snow-white page now bore a perfectly smooth incision, as if sliced by the sharpest blade in existence.
A chill erupted from deep within her Soul, metallic, sweet, almost like rusted steel in scent. Her right hand—the same that had healed countless injuries—trembled uncontrollably.
At the tip of her index finger, a faint trace of blood-red shimmer appeared—not physical blood, but a condensation of Killing Intent, coiling and pulsing like a living shadow.
"Ngh…" she groaned, clenching her fist, fingernails digging into her palm to suppress the violent tremor in her Soul.
Cold sweat broke out along her temples. Her pulse raced. The illusory, blood-red energy struggled, resisted, and then slowly dissipated.
"Captain?"
Isane's hesitant voice came from the door. The lieutenant had returned, having heard the faint tearing and a suppressed groan. Concern drew her back.
Unohana forced herself into composure. Her palm relaxed, though the faint tremor lingered. "Isane? Is something else needed?"
The door cracked open. Isane's eyes swept the room. Unohana's posture was rigid, her knuckles stark white.
"Your hand, Captain?"
Unohana unclenched, showing the shallow red marks pressed by her nails. Her tone carried faint self-mockery, calm and measured.
"I wasn't careful while flipping the pages. Just a minor nick."
Isane quickly applied healing Dao. "Please be careful, Captain. Perhaps you should rest."
"No need. Go attend to your duties," Unohana replied, picking up her pen.
Once the door closed, her composure fell away.
She pressed a hand to her chest, gasping. The fleeting blood-red aura from her fingertip was a minor Qi escape from the crack in her Seal—but it had been enough.
In that instant, she felt the raw power of her Kenpachi lineage stir within her, threatening to burst free. The tranquil Captain of the Fourth Division was at risk of being replaced by a demonic presence.
Her mind conjured visions of endless blood-soaked battlefields, corpses beneath her feet, her Zanpakuto a blade of pure death.
The flame of "Unohana Retsu" flickered precariously against the gale of her own Killing Intent.
For the first time, a profound longing shone in her eyes—a desire to release the power restrained for centuries.
A longing for freedom.