In the vast and austere washitsu, two figures sat cross-legged on tatami mats, separated by a tea table. The imagery of a tiger and Oni locked in battle loomed in the background, while delicate tea vapour curled upward, creating a tableau of profound stillness.
Yet, beneath the surface, thoughts of battle surged—clashes of swords, the sparks of life-or-death combat, and the thrill of unrestricted violence. All of these existed, not in the physical space, but within the minds of the two figures.
If this scene were an ancient silent film, the audience would likely feel the impending tension, anticipating the spilling of blood in the next instant. Yet, the oppressive stillness was as immovable as a deep, dark pond—undisturbed and unfathomable.
In the end, it wasn't swords or words that broke the stillness—but the drifting of a single falling leaf landing upon the pond's surface.
The water reached its boiling point, and the sharp whistle of the kettle pierced the silence.
Ripples formed in the pond of stillness, transforming the tranquil picture into one of dynamic motion. The mist parted, and the tea's delicate aroma seemed tinged with the metallic scent of blood as battle intent and killing intent collided. Sparks ignited in the air.
The sharp screech of clashing steel mingled with the kettle's whistle as the two figures slid backwards, leaving long drag marks across the tatami mats.
Unohana glanced at Ren, then at her bloodless Zanpakutō as the corners of her lips curled into a chillingly beautiful, yet twisted, smile.
Her delicate hand passed over her chest as her long, jet-black hair unfurled like a waterfall, spilling forward. The unnatural positioning of much of her hair gave her an eerie and unsettling appearance.
Rays of evening sunlight filtered through the glass windows, painting the room in hues of crimson. It cast a warm, rouge-like tint upon Unohana's pale face, intensifying her ominous aura.
She appeared like a ghostly apparition, her hair dishevelled, her smile otherworldly, and her crimson-tinged presence resembling that of a demon risen from the depths of hell.
On the other side, Ren stood poised, his Asauchi held horizontally at his side with its tip pointing downward. His body was taut, ready to pounce like a tiger descending the mountain.
"What a wonderful little invention Captain Hikifune has developed," Unohana remarked with a soft laugh. "It allows me to test you thoroughly without holding back."
Ren's focus sharpened to a razor's edge.
This scenario was precisely what he and Aizen had predicted: the final exam would involve facing a captain under equalized spiritual pressure conditions. However, with Unohana as his opponent, the difficulty had been elevated to a terrifying degree.
For Ren, this was the nightmare of nightmares—yet also the ecstasy of ecstasies.
His lips curled upward into an involuntary grin, revealing a row of gleaming teeth. "Captain Unohana, I take it that I can graduate if I can defeat you?"
"Defeat me?"
Unohana tilted her head slightly, her hand rising to cover her face as though to hide the unsettling gleam in her eyes. Her voice trembled, carrying a manic edge.
"Ren…why are you so desperate to graduate early?"
It was as if she were answering her own question. Her voice, muffled behind her hand, drifted out like a whisper.
"Because if you do that, I won't be able to stop myself….from acting as your examiner….I won't be able to stop myself….from harvesting this fruit too early."
As she spoke, her pale hand slid away from her face, revealing a visage twisted with an exhilaration so intense it was almost grotesque.
Yet to Ren, it looked hauntingly beautiful.
It was a face no one would associate with the usually gentle and beautiful Captain Unohana.
She opened her arms wide, her wild gaze fixed on Ren.
"Come, entertain me!"
The next moment, a gust of wind swept through the room as Unohana's long hair billowed behind her. Crimson droplets sprayed forth from her ash-pink haori, streaking across the room. A single bead of blood passed before her gleaming eyes.
Ren and Unohana had already exchanged blows, passing by each other in a blur.
Behind Ren, a trail of embedded footprints marked his advance across the tatami. Turning slowly, his dishevelled hair betrayed the ferocity of the clash, while his eyes burned with unrestrained battle lust.
"Captain, after all the times you've cut me, how's this one strike? Does it meet your satisfaction?"
Ren was somewhat surprised to see that he had managed to wound Unohana.
He had assumed that even under the spiritual pressure restrictions, her physical durability would remain formidable. However, it seemed that the containment device's effects were far more advanced than anticipated, effectively reducing Unohana's protective spiritual energy to a 16th-class level.
Clearly, this wasn't merely a training tool for academy students but a tactical device designed to suppress and eliminate powerful enemies.
With her back to Ren, Unohana's serene yet crazed smile persisted. As she turned, her delicate hand brushed her shoulder, and the wound he had inflicted instantly closed.
"Ah, yes….just like this."
Her exhilaration only deepened, the long-forgotten sensation of pain igniting her feral instincts.
By now, the Captain-Commander's instructions had been utterly forgotten. When two predators meet on the desolate plains, neither can leave unscathed.
As their killing intent and battle thirst reached a crescendo, the two figures vanished simultaneously from the room.
Clang!
Ren's Asauchi clashed with Unohana's Minazuki, the blinding light of their collision illuminating the dim room. Their gazes locked, and the space seemed suffused with murderous intent.
A tempest seemed to rise around them as they exchanged dozens of strikes in an instant.
The tatami mats buckled and shattered, exposing the pinewood flooring beneath. Blood splattered and fragments of clothing danced in the air.
After a particularly fierce exchange, the two combatants were forced apart by the impact of their strikes. They came to a halt, stabilizing their forms.
Unohana's haori remained mostly intact, but Ren's uniform was in tatters.
Without hesitation, Ren grasped the remains of his upper garment, tore it away, and discarded it. His toned, scarred torso was now exposed, revealing a network of shallow wounds.
These were not direct cuts but the result of invisible blades—extensions of Unohana's sword energy—that had shredded his clothing and grazed his skin.
"Oh? So you've already mastered Kaidō to this degree?" Unohana remarked, her tone laced with intrigue as she observed the wounds on his torso gradually closing.
Remarkably, Ren wasn't channelling healing energy through his hands. From the outside, there was no visible glow of Kaidō; the wounds were healing as if by sheer will.
Though superficial, the bleeding from these injuries would have been detrimental in prolonged combat, necessitating this rapid self-repair.
"You never mentioned that healing had to be performed through the hands, Captain Unohana," Ren replied. His tone carried a hint of pride. "Once you understand the principles, isn't direct physical repair a far more practical method for combat?"
This was a new application of Kaidō that Ren had developed through his own experimentation and insight.
The principles of Kaido revolve around controlling spiritual particles to repair the body. Hands are commonly used because they are the most agile and precise parts of the human body, enabling meticulous manipulation.
However, with sufficient control and the ability to multitask, one could directly weave threads of spiritual energy to mend wounds without relying on the hands.
Of course, this was a newly developed method for Ren, still in its infancy. It was only effective for minor injuries at the moment. For more severe wounds, the traditional hands-on approach was still necessary.
Unohana let out a melodious yet chilling laugh. "Ren, you truly are a genius. But this level of Kaido won't save you."
Ren offered no response. He was fully aware that Unohana had entered a heightened state of bloodlust. During this test, she would likely hold nothing back. If he failed to match her, she would not hesitate to kill him.
He had no idea what constituted passing this assessment, but one thing was clear—defeat meant death.
The oppressive presence of death loomed, causing his body to tremble. Yet it wasn't fear that made him quake; it was exhilaration.
Even with her spiritual pressure restrained, Unohana remained the strongest opponent he had ever faced.
Unlike the Captain-Commander's instructive sparring sessions, this was an authentic battle to the death—the kind of fight he had long craved.
Standing before him was the rival he had once prayed to the heavens for, yet never thought he would encounter.
How could he not be thrilled?
The assessment, the mission—none of it mattered. At this moment, all he wanted was to savour this deadly duel.
Boom!
With a burst of motion, Ren launched himself forward. The tatami mats behind him flipped over from the force of his charge as his blade struck with blistering speed and precision.
Faster, heavier, deadlier.
He swung downward from above, his blade carrying lethal intent. Unohana deflected the strike with her Zanpakutō, redirecting it to the side.
She immediately stepped into his inner circle, aiming a palm strike at his chest.
Just as she believed she was about to land a decisive blow, an unexpected sight unfolded. Ren's left hand retracted to just below his chest, while his right elbow dropped sharply, trapping Unohana's wrist in a vice grip, neutralizing her strike.
Two hands!?
Surprised, Unohana's peripheral vision caught sight of his Asauchi, now falling to the ground beside him.
He discarded his weapon!?
She had to admit, however, that his decision was the correct one. Had her palm connected, it would have severely damaged his heart. A follow-up slash would have ended the fight immediately.
The momentum from her strike forced Ren to retreat, but he swiftly adapted. As he staggered backwards, he stomped the edge of an overturned tatami mat.
The mat flipped upward and struck the hilt of his descending blade, redirecting its trajectory mid-air. The Asauchi spun toward him, landing perfectly in his outstretched hand.
Unohana did not pursue him after the exchange. Her eyes sparkled with a newfound light, as though she had discovered a priceless treasure.
She watched the man charging toward her again, his movements filled with unorthodox creativity. For a brief moment, she felt a peculiar sense of awe.
Ah, he is free.
His fighting style was like the unbridled strokes of a master painter's brush—wild yet deliberate, with each move creating a masterpiece.
Boom!
Another fierce clash sent Unohana gliding backwards with grace, while Ren crashed into the wall from the recoil.
As Unohana observed Ren emerging from the dented wall, his body marked with countless wounds, her expression was a mixture of exhilaration and regret. She couldn't help but lament the inevitability of this exquisite fruit being plucked too soon.
Even with the device suppressing her spiritual pressure, it couldn't entirely negate her physical advantages. Just now, Ren's strike should have shattered her wrist. However, the density of her spiritual body remained extraordinarily high. Despite the restraint on her external spiritual pressure, her bones and muscles retained their toughness, reducing his blow to a superficial injury.
This spiritual pressure suppression device, no matter how advanced, could only allow Ren to cut through her skin. Penetrating deeper into her flesh was a far more difficult feat.
Now, with her blood heated and her mind lost in the euphoria of combat, there was no turning back. The only way for Unohana to regain clarity was if Ren truly bested her in this battle.
But that was impossible.
She could see through all his techniques, every move he made. With over a thousand years of battle experience and a slight spiritual pressure advantage—her current 16th-class level, though restrained, was at its peak compared to Ren's mid-upper range—she held nearly every advantage in this fight.
Victory seemed entirely beyond his reach.
As she gazed at the young man stepping out from the wall's wreckage, his body riddled with wounds, Unohana felt a strange sense of pity for the foregone conclusion of their clash.