The fierce clash between Araki and Unohana continued unabated.
Scarlet slashes tore through the heavens, while dazzling azure light melted the earth beneath their feet.
If she could, Unohana Yachiru wished for this battle with Araki to last forever. Even if the heavens crumbled, the earth shattered, or the Three Realms were torn asunder, she wished only to fight—blade meeting blade, fist meeting flesh—eternally. She was, after all, a woman born for battle!
"Ah, this feeling!"
A radiant smile graced Unohana's face, a rare expression of pure joy. She couldn't recall the last time she'd encountered a foe as powerful as Araki, someone who was almost evenly matched with her in skill and strength.
But, just as the ocean of blood at her feet was not infinite, so too was her stamina and spiritual pressure. As her reserves dwindled to near nothingness, the radiant azure light above continued to illuminate the battlefield.
"So, your Bankai's ability is different from mine, isn't it?"
"The light from your Bankai, shimmering in the sky, not only heals you but also weakens my spiritual pressure and stamina. What's more, it even seems to suppress the healing ability of my Zanpakutō."
Pausing mid-swing, Unohana looked up at the azure glow that had replaced the sun. A flicker of realization crossed her face.
When she first noticed that Araki's light could instantly heal all his injuries, she assumed his Bankai had the same regenerative abilities as hers. Their Zanpakutō, she thought, must both specialize in high-speed healing.
However, the moment she noticed her spiritual pressure and stamina depleting at an unnatural speed, the truth dawned on her: Araki's Bankai didn't just heal him—it actively drained her strength.
This drain wasn't obvious at first, creeping like a frog in boiling water. By the time she realized it, it was too late.
Now, she could barely lift her Zanpakutō; the weight of it was unbearable. Even the strength to swing it had been stolen away.
"To be precise," Araki corrected with a calm smile, "my light doesn't weaken your spiritual pressure or stamina—it assimilates them and takes them for myself."
Araki's words were direct, unapologetic, and entirely without pretense. He even took the time to clarify her misunderstanding of his Zanpakutō's ability.
No, it wasn't simply about weakening others. His Zanpakutō could plunder the enemy's spiritual pressure, stamina, and even their abilities on a fundamental level.
Since only Araki, Unohana, and Yamamoto were present, he explained freely. After all, one was his future wife, and the other was his mentor. Simply speaking, there were no outsiders here.
"So, your Zanpakutō can assimilate my spiritual pressure? I see."
Unohana finally understood. She had wondered how Araki, whose spiritual pressure was clearly inferior to hers, had remained unscathed and untiring despite their prolonged battle.
Now she knew. During their fight, his Bankai had been steadily siphoning away her strength.
With such a relentless ability, not only could Araki overwhelm evenly matched opponents, but even those stronger than him would find his powers a nightmare to contend with.
As long as his enemy couldn't defeat him in an instant or in a short burst, once they were drawn into his pace, victory would always belong to him.
"Have I lost?"
Unohana murmured, the words a bitter whisper. Despite her desire to keep fighting, her slender arms could no longer lift her sword.
Standing amidst the ruins, exhausted and hollow-eyed, Unohana's mind drifted through the memories of her life like a slideshow—her entire existence flashing before her eyes.
She had never been a good person.
Before meeting Yamamoto, she was a ruthless killer, a legend in the Soul Society who had challenged and slain countless masters of swordsmanship.
By all rights, someone like her should have perished the day she crossed paths with Yamamoto. Yet, whether by his mercy or by fate, she had lived. Not only that, she became the captain of the 11th Division, a guardian shouting slogans of "protection" while indulging in carnage.
But all of that was coming to an end.
"I've been defeated by 'Genryū' twice now, haven't I?"
A soft, bittersweet smile graced Unohana's face. She had come to terms with her failure. She spread her arms wide, welcoming the inevitable end.
Though she accepted her defeat, her grip on her Zanpakutō remained firm. She had lost to Araki, not in swordsmanship but to the superiority of his Zanpakutō. Her battle spirit remained unquenched, her desires unsatisfied.
Even so, a loss was a loss. Starting today, she would no longer be the captain of the 11th Division, nor would she bear the title of "Kenpachi."
To bear the name of "Kenpachi" was to embrace one's final fate with honor.
"The killer shall be killed."
From the moment Unohana picked up her sword, she had foreseen her end. She just hadn't expected it to arrive so soon... But perhaps it was better this way.
Better than enduring the boredom of a world where no worthy opponent appeared.
"Enough hesitation! Swing your blade and end it!"
Unohana stared at Araki, her voice resolute.
"Pfft."
Without unnecessary words, Araki approached her, blade in hand.
Facing this beautiful woman who had resigned herself to her fate, Araki raised his Zanpakutō high and drove it through her chest. Blood sprayed across the battlefield.
"Just like that."
"So, farewell to the 'Master of Genryū.'"
As Unohana succumbed to her predicted fate, life surged back into her body. The very blade that had pierced her chest now poured vitality into her fading form.
"Wha—?"
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"My strength... is returning?" Unohana's voice trembled. She looked to Araki for an explanation. "What does this mean?"
"Did you think losing once meant the game was over? The defeated obey the victor. That's the unchanging law of the Soul Society," Araki said, a grin spreading across his face. "So don't think you can just walk away from this."
Araki's words struck a chord deep within her. Unohana felt a trembling thrill she hadn't experienced in years.
"Ah..."
"Araki, I think I may have fallen in love with you."
"And I swear, I, Unohana, will make sure you die by my blade—and mine alone!"
Her face twisted into an almost deranged smile, equal parts joy and madness. Every cell in her body sang with ecstasy.
In this dull, tedious world, what could be more exhilarating than chasing the one she loved, meeting him on a grand battlefield, and settling everything with one decisive fight?
"Let's go, then. Grow stronger. Defeat me. I'll be waiting, Unohana Yachiru."
Araki smiled as his radiant Zanpakutō bathed the world in azure light once more. A majestic jade Kannon manifested behind him, its presence imposing, divine.
At that moment, the god of mercy met the demon of carnage.
"Before I met you, I wielded my sword for myself."
"After meeting you, I wield my sword for you alone."
Unohana gazed at the resplendent light, her smile both tender and unhinged.
Killers may never understand love, but they have their own sense of romance.
==============
Do not think that this fight was underwhelming. Araki is stronger than Unohana without even using some of his abilities, I see no reason to drag it out, so I made it conclude in a single chapter. The only reason the fight took the time it did is because Araki allowed it, he could defeat Unohana in no time if he wished.
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