While Makoto waged his fierce battle against the three blade spirits, the clash unfolding elsewhere was markedly simpler in its brutality.
Yachiru Unohana gazed quietly at her opponent.
In the era when she first arrived in this world, the legend of Oetsu Nimaiya had yet to fade from its peak.
Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto was still considered a rising star then. As the God of the Sword who birthed all Asauchi in existence, it was no exaggeration to say that Oetsu Nimaiya held a debt of gratitude from nearly every Shinigami.
But to Unohana none of that mattered.
She sought only one answer.
Did this legendary God of the Sword possess a mastery of slaughter as exquisite as his craft in forging blades?
"Not planning to strike first?"
Her smile remained serene. "If you don't co at , I'll have to co at you."
"It's not so much that I don't want to strike first, as it is… tricky."
Oetsu slowly removed his sunglasses, tossed them aside, and gathered his wild, vision-obscuring afro into a tight bundle at the back of his head. His eyes, however, didn't linger on Unohana.
They fixed solely on the blade in her hand.
His voice was calm, stripped of the carefree freestyle flair he'd exuded earlier, his brows faintly creased.
"Every sword I've forged, I can recognize."
"And that one of yours if my mory serves likely awakened into sothing biological… no, more precisely, a life-based ability, right?"
Oetsu Nimaiya lacked Ichibe Hyosube's gift of discerning a blade's na with a single glance.
Yet as a veteran predating the Asauchi era, he possessed his own unique talents.
Small skills granted by his 'true blade.'
Sensing the overwhelming reiatsu radiating from Unohana, a flicker of wariness crept into Oetsu's gaze as he studied her.
Truth be told...
Her sword carried a stench so potent it unsettled even him.
The scent of… blood, perhaps?
"Still."
"It doesn't matter."
Oetsu took a step forward, his deanor as nonchalant as ever, advancing toward Unohana with a light stride. "As long as I can cleave your head from your shoulders, that'll suffice."
"Oh, and by the way..."
He spoke with a casual air that belied his arrogance, "This blade is one of my failed creations."
"Its na is Sayafushi."
"So sharp it can slice through even high-density Reishi, it's never found a sheath capable of containing it."
"Even that sword in your hand…"
"One clash and it'll snap, won't it?"
Unohana's gaze sharpened at his words, her guard rising.
The next instant...
Oetsu's form vanished.
His blade cut through air, dust, and sound, every barrier before it like a whisper of wind, descending silently toward Unohana's shoulder.
Not even the faintest screech pierced the stillness.
Shing!
Unohana swung her sword, aiming precisely for Sayafushi's flank.
But with a re flick of his wrist, Oetsu redirected the impossibly keen edge. It slid diagonally along her Zanpakuto, parting it like a knife through butter, effortless and unhindered.
Unohana's eyes narrowed. She tilted her blade along its grain, retreating with a swift pull-back.
Yet despite her lightning-fast response, her Zanpakuto bore a hairline nick unassuming at first glance, but perilously close to splitting the weapon in two.
His claim of unmatched sharpness was no boast.
"You dodged that?"
Oetsu grinned as he t Unohana's steely gaze, twirling his hilt with a showman's flair.
"Don't let its edge fool you, though. Finding a handle sturdy enough for this thing? A nightmare."
"Look, it's still wobbling."
"So…"
His voice dropped, icy and abrupt, "Hurry up and show already your true blade… or rather, your Bankai now, right?"
"I'm dying to see what that sword of yours turns into."
Unohana glanced at him, then at her near-fractured Zanpakuto. Her interest waned, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "So this is the so-called God of the Sword? Just a man of this caliber?"
"You don't even grasp the thrill of the kill."
"What?"
Oetsu frowned, clearly perplexed.
"Still… fine."
"This won't do for a proper fight."
Monts later, Unohana raised her nearly shattered Asauchi, murmuring, "I'll let you see it."
"My Bankai."
Oetsu's gaze locked onto her, an ominous premonition stirring within.
Unohana leveled her blade, dragging it from right to left as if unfurling a ribbon.
Under her motion, the edge seed to lt into a viscous, scarlet dye, spreading smoothly with her gesture.
Arms outstretched, she stood like a grim corpse pinned to a cross, her voice a low, resonant growl.
"Bankai - Minazuki!"
The instant her words fell, a suffocating wave of monstrous spiritual pressure engulfed the battlefield.
Its crushing weight threatened to grind everyone present into dust from the inside out.
Yet it lasted only a heartbeat.
In the next mont, the swelling Reiatsu coiled tightly around Unohana, condensing onto the blade in her grasp.
Oetsu's eyes widened.
He watched as an endless stream of blood flowed from Unohana's sword.
The ceaseless tide spilled to the ground, washing over their ankles, transforming a dozens-ter radius into a crimson mire.
Her Reiatsu, wholly her own, enveloped them both.
It forged a scarlet domain unique to Unohana.
Instinctively, Oetsu sensed the danger.
This 'life-based' Zanpakuto was nothing like what he'd imagined.
Unohana casually discarded her near-broken blade. From the blood pool, a new weapon coalesced, a sword wrought entirely of blood.
Oetsu's pupils constricted.
With an infinite supply of blades at her command, his Sayafushi's prowess was severely countered.
Trouble.
He'd been too reckless.
The thought flashed through his mind, but his feet propelled him forward at blinding speed, charging toward Unohana once more.
He had to end her life in the shortest ti possible.
Noticing this, a scarlet smile curled across Unohana's face.
"Fear. Urgency."
"Now that's more like it…"
In an instant, her form vanished from its spot, her blood-forged blade tracing a crimson arc through the air.
Shing!
Their blades clashed.
Oetsu's pupils constricted instinctively.
Her sword composed entirely of blood pierced straight through Sayafushi's edge, splattering a bloom of red. It reconnected midair as if unperturbed, slashing toward him once more.
As for Sayafushi, poised to strike her, she didn't spare it a glance.
In this deadly mutual assault, Oetsu instinctively withdrew his blade, raising Sayafushi horizontally to block the blood-streaked strike.
Yet before he could swing a second ti, another short blade crafted wholly from blood thrust into his vision.
Shing!
The dagger, severed by Sayafushi's edge, broke apart only to reform instantly.
Unohana gripped her dual blades one long, one short unleashing a relentless cascade of curved slashes. Her strikes accelerated with each passing mont.
"Too slow..."
"Raise your sword!"
Her twin blades, spewing blood, danced like satin ribbons in the crimson mire. Under the barrage of ultra-high-speed blows, Oetsu's swordsmanship faltered, reduced to re defense.
His blade was sharper than hers!
Her weapons shattered at a touch!
Yet before this woman, Oetsu found himself limited to this ager resistance.
What in the world was happening?!
Unohana's slashes quickened, her movents akin to a dancer long banned from the stage, finally free to perform. Facing a worthy foe after an age, she seized the rare chance to unleash her full might without restraint.
A strength savage, tyrannical, terrifying built upon countless lives.
Yachiru Unohana!!!
The scarlet blood pool beca her solitary stage. Oetsu Nimaiya, her foil, seed little more than a puppet to highlight her artistry. His clumsy counters and straightforward cuts couldn't hope to rival Unohana, who had mastered countless styles into a singular, transcendent form.
Without Sayafushi as his weapon, this God of the Sword of the Soul Society might well have fallen in re monts.
Their imnse Reiatsu clashed, yet Unohana tore through his with brutal ease. Like a feral beast of the underworld, she stord into his range, her innurable blood blades shredding every defense.
This woman was a lunatic!
A monster!
At that mont, that thought surged uncontrollably through Oetsu's mind.
"Waterfowl Blade Dance!"
As if to taunt him, Unohana called out a move na with evident disinterest.
A flurry of blood blades erupted from her sword, spiraling toward Oetsu. They cleaved the air with a viscous, muted hum.
He moved to retreat instinctively, only to find the blood beneath his feet had coiled around his ankles unnoticed.
What was this…?
Of course! It wasn't just the blades!
This entire blood-wrought domain was her Bankai!
Realization struck, and Oetsu swung Sayafushi to sever the blood blades surging toward him.
But in that fleeting sliver of distraction...
A thin streak of blood grazed his shoulder, leaving a wound and a sharp sting.
"Heh."
A slow, predatory smile spread across Unohana's grim features.
Like a hunter eyeing prey freshly marked.
Trouble!
Oetsu grasped the danger instantly.
The next second, Unohana charged again.
As her blade descended, Oetsu's eyes faintly reflected a horrifying vision, the woman before him lting into skeletal white amidst the blood.
An illusion?
Before he could discern it fully, a fiercer pain erupted from his chest and abdon.
The blood blade, piercing through Sayafushi, curved slightly midair, slicing his skin with the sa ease Sayafushi had parted her Zanpakuto.
Oetsu clutched the wound, retreating fully as awareness dawned. He had to break free of this Bankai domain imdiately to catch even a mont's breath.
No matter his pride, their brief clash had made it clear.
In swordsmanship, he and this woman weren't even in the sa realm.
Their Reiatsu was comparable, but his Zanjutsu lagged far behind. His sole advantage was nullified by her endless blood blades…
If this continued, he was finished!
He needed a different sword!
He spun sharply.
"Running?"
Seeing his frantic, desperate movents, Unohana let out a low, mocking chuckle and raised her blade forward.
Splash!
Directly before Oetsu Nimaiya, a dark curtain of blood surged forth.
Beyond that fathomless veil, a figure identical to Unohana shimred into view.
"Haven't you realized yet, Oetsu Nimaiya?"
Unohana's voice was a deep murmur. "This Bankai, in a certain sense, is ."
"Here, you have no choice."
"Death or life."
"That's the rule of combat."
Oetsu stared at the ceaselessly churning blood pool, a strained smile twisting his features.
Blood trickled from his lips, seeping from the gash across his chest and abdon. Yet his tone remained defiant, "You madwoman, have you ever considered…"
"A life-based Zanpakuto is ant to be a sacred tool for saving lives?"
"I didn't forge this blade to drown the world in blood and corpses."
Unohana smiled, lifting her blade toward him, her voice even and calm.
"How you forged it is your business."
"How I wield it is mine."
"Don't make your final act so pathetic, Oetsu Nimaiya."
"As one of the few true powerhouses in this world…"
"Let bury you here."
"…"
The bitterness in Oetsu's smile deepened.
"Damn it, Tsunayashiro…"
"If I'd known it'd end this humiliatingly, I'd have died before taking this job."
Though his words dripped with resignation, he slowly, firmly raised Sayafushi, drawing a deep breath.
Unohana lifted her blade in response, her expression impassive.
It descended.
…
Clang!
A pristine blade segnt, as if freshly snapped from its hilt, spun through the air with a faint tallic hum. It traced a razor-sharp arc before plunging into the soil like a diver, leaving only a short, dulled stub of its handle exposed.
The blood curtain dissipated, raining down in scattered droplets.
At its center stood Yachiru Unohana and Oetsu Nimaiya.
One upright. One fallen.
In his final monts, Oetsu hadn't crumbled as shafully as he'd feared. With a desperate last stand, he'd managed to graze Unohana's arm with Sayafushi's tip, carving a deep wound that severed bone and nerve.
But the cost was steep.
His headless body lay silent in the blood pool's heart, faint ripples spreading outward.
In his hand, he clutched only a broken hilt.
As Oetsu himself had admitted...
Sayafushi's flaw was its fragile connection.
The instant he fell, the dozen or so blade spirits still rampaging within the battlefield seed to sense it. Like frenzied moths to a fla, they converged on the blood pool.
Yet one by one, they were cut down.
Until at last, Unohana stood alone in the crimson mire, her face an unreadable mask.
Thud.
Makoto appeared abruptly, a blade spirit slung over his shoulder and another cradled in his arms.
They hit the ground with a solid thump.
Seeing his sensei unscathed, a faint, relieved smile crossed his lips.
If his sensei was fine, the traces he'd left could linger a little longer.
"Unohana-sensei."
He stepped forward with a grin, only to notice that despite her victory, Unohana wore a somber, almost mournful expression.
It wasn't until her gaze fell upon the three fallen blade spirits that a sliver of warmth softened her features, thawing the icy mask that had settled over her face.
Unohana looked at him, her voice softening into a tender, almost wistful sigh:
"Makoto-kun."
"Yes."
"You'd better grow up quickly."
"…"
"Huh?"
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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