"Bai Chen…"
"Prepare yourself."
"During our sparring and exchange…"
"I'll tell you everything—without holding back."
Standing at the center of the dojo, Unohana Retsu's voice echoed through the empty hall, bouncing off every corner. The atmosphere changed instantly—calm on the surface, but with a scalding tension underneath, like the quiet right before a storm.
"I understand."
Meeting her trusting gaze, Bai Chen's eyes sharpened.
He could feel it clearly: Unohana valued swordsmanship no less than the medical arts the world praised her for.
More than that—
Swordsmanship was her life's obsession.
Whether it was the chaotic era a thousand years ago, or the peaceful present, the sword had long since fused into her soul—into instinct itself.
After all, back then, when she sought out Kirinji Tenjirō to learn Kaido and healing…
it wasn't to save lives.
It was so she could kill more pleasurably.
Three Days and Three Nights
"For the next three days and three nights…"
"I want you to let go of restraint—empty your mind—and simply savor and understand."
"In here, there is only the purest sword technique."
"It has nothing to do with spiritual pressure."
At this moment, Unohana seemed to peel off her disguise—temporarily discarding her identity as the Fourth Division's gentle medical captain.
The warm smile on her face vanished completely.
No more elegance.
No more tenderness.
Her presence became razor-sharp.
Beneath her shihakushō, her body gave off a murderous chill—like naked blade intent, and at the same time, like thick, blood-soaked killing intent.
When that terrifying aura surged up like a wave—
her captain's haori fluttered free and drifted to the floor.
Even Unohana herself looked as if she had deliberately thrown everything away, returning in spirit to the era from a thousand years ago—
awakening the First Kenpachi she had buried.
"...So that's why you're a living legend."
"Even without spiritual pressure…"
"this aura alone could suppress most of the younger captains."
Only now did Bai Chen truly understand:
When killing intent becomes powerful enough, it doesn't lose to spiritual pressure at all.
If anything, it's sharper—more nakedly lethal.
The First Lesson: Curved-Blade Swordsmanship
"Go."
"To the wooden rack over there."
"Take two curved wooden swords I had specially made back then—so my technique could become even more refined."
"Curved wooden swords?"
Bai Chen's gaze flicked toward the rack.
Sure enough, lined up neatly were wooden blades with a noticeably deeper curve than ordinary practice swords.
After he handed one to Unohana, Bai Chen asked on instinct:
"Captain Unohana… if I'm not mistaken…"
"these curved blades were modeled after your zanpakutō, Minazuki, weren't they?"
"Correct."
"This is your first lesson."
"The entry technique of Yachiru-Style Swordsmanship…"
"Curved-Blade Slaying Art."
The instant those words left her mouth—
she didn't give Bai Chen even a heartbeat to adjust.
Unohana's dark eyes seemed to glaze with a sinister, blood-tinted sheen.
Her shihakushō-clad body stepped lightly—
and vanished from his field of vision.
Like a ghost, she appeared behind him.
The curved wooden sword—wrapped in palpable killing intent—tilted up, the point rising with a vicious angle, stabbing straight toward Bai Chen's back.
"Not even needing a stance…"
"and still executing a perfect killing approach?"
"And this is only the opening move?!"
Bai Chen's brow tightened.
From the killing intent at his back, he felt a long-forgotten sense of lethal threat.
Every hair on his body rose.
And at the same time, deep inside—
his curiosity and yearning for Yachiru-Style Swordsmanship only intensified.
This dojo, reinforced by Spirit Stone and sealing runes, suppressed spiritual pressure, shunpo, and hakuda to the greatest extent.
Meaning—
apart from holding the curved wooden sword and clashing in pure blade skill,
there was no other "right" way to fight here.
Yet Unohana hadn't used shunpo.
She hadn't released spiritual pressure.
And still—her movement felt like teleportation.
That meant this curved-blade technique wasn't some basic form at all.
It was a killing art—one mistake from taking your head.
"You've Already Lost."
"Bai Chen…"
"Spacing out in the middle of a kill…"
"means you've already lost."
Unohana's voice was strict—cold, like a teacher scolding a student.
Bai Chen answered with action.
"Captain Unohana…"
"It's not only you who can throw away a stance."
A playful laugh sounded—
and Bai Chen's figure warped.
"A… afterimage?"
Unohana's eyes narrowed. Her perception was monstrous—she saw through it instantly.
In less than a tenth of a second, Bai Chen had used an even faster secret sword-step, leaving a residual image behind as he slipped out of the stab's path.
"Secret Sword: Moon Shadow!"
At the exact moment Unohana's focus shifted—
his shout rang beside her ear.
"You did that on purpose…"
To counter her with the same method.
But Unohana was a sword master who had lived through a thousand years of blood.
Even with the roles reversed—even with a backstab about to land—
she didn't panic.
She turned smoothly, coldly questioning him—
and with her free hand, a black sleeve slid down.
A hidden blade dropped into her palm.
CLANG!
A sharp, piercing sound rang through the dojo.
Bai Chen's Moon Shadow slash struck—
and was caught perfectly by the concealed weapon.
"Captain Unohana…"
"I'm sorry to disappoint."
"I haven't grasped the essence of curved-blade slaying art yet."
Seeing the strike fail, Bai Chen retreated in a quick backward step, widening the distance again.
"You've already learned it."
Unohana shook her head.
She raised the hidden blade, her voice flat and merciless.
"You even forced me to fast-forward…"
"to the second lesson."
The dojo fell into a stillness where only echoing words remained—
and the collision of their gazes felt like sparks in the air.
"Heh…"
"Backstabbing. Hidden blade."
"The first two lessons of Yachiru-Style Swordsmanship…"
"are seriously nasty."
Bai Chen knew it wasn't really "nasty."
A thousand years ago, Soul Society wasn't peaceful like it was now.
Even Seireitei saw turmoil—assassinations, executions, bloodshed.
And Rukongai was worse—everywhere could be an ambush.
In that era, Unohana's two moves weren't underhanded—
they were survival.
"Underhanded?"
"You're wrong, Bai Chen."
Unohana's voice was colder than steel.
"In swordsmanship, there is no such thing as 'underhanded.'"
"Any technique…"
"that can take a life…"
"is the most effective killing art."
Blood-Colored Malice
As she spoke, Unohana lowered her eyes.
Her aura changed again—completely.
It was no longer "killing intent" alone.
Now it became something feral… bloodthirsty… brutal.
A terrifying blood-colored malice rolled off her like a tide.
Killing, piled up until it had become substance.
At that moment, Bai Chen's eyes widened.
Looking at her, he suddenly felt as if he were drowning inside a river of blood.
As if the cold woman before him was no longer a shinigami—
but a mountain of corpses and an ocean of gore.
Without thinking, Bai Chen raised his curved wooden sword into a guarded stance.
It was the first time in all his battles recently that his body had moved into pure instinctive defense.
That alone showed how horrifying this was.
Yachiru-Style Swordsmanship.
And blood malice.
"Bai Chen…"
"I can feel your caution in your eyes."
"You're not afraid like the others…"
"but it's the same look everyone wore a thousand years ago…"
"when they faced the First Kenpachi."
Unohana finally tore the veil off herself.
And as she spoke—
she tossed away the hidden blade and reached under her hair.
In front of Bai Chen, she untied the knot that held her black hair at her collarbone.
Bai Chen's eyes lit with heat—
not for skin—
but because that gesture meant one thing:
She was about to get serious.
What came next would be the real Unohana—
the monstrous "Yachiru" of a thousand years ago.
SHHK!
Her hair fell loose, draping messily over her shoulders.
And just above her collarbone—
on what should have been flawless white skin—
was a glaring, shocking scar.
That scar awakened something Unohana had suppressed for a thousand years.
A hunger for slaughter.
Her eyes, in that moment, seemed to turn red.
"Now begins the third lesson."
"Bai Chen…"
"How to truly command…"
"this blood-colored malice."
In the span of a breath, the curved wooden sword in her hand darkened—
then became a blade of blood.
Behind her—
BOOM!
A tangible sea of blood surged, churning violently.
Countless crimson bubbles rose and burst.
Even the Spirit Stone walls and sealing runes shook and flashed—
as if they could no longer contain the horror of this unique killing aura.
The true terror of Yachiru-Style Swordsmanship—
had finally stepped onto the stage.
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