BLEACH: UNOHANA RETSU IS MY WIFE

On the battlefield where Araki and Unohana Yachiryu clashed—

Endless sword strikes illuminated the sky and earth, overwhelming the senses of countless observing Shinigami.

Not far away, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni and the captains of the Gotei 13 had already taken their positions. They stood silently atop the roofs of the few remaining intact buildings, observing the brutal duel between Araki and Unohana.

Even some of the Shinigami soldiers of the 13th Division had taken notice of this ferocious battle. Yet none dared approach.

Faced with the monstrous spiritual pressure unleashed by Araki and Unohana Yachiryu, the foot soldiers were frozen in place, powerless.

"Damn it! Where the hell did this monster come from?! To fight Captain Unohana—Kenpachi herself—like this?!"

"Our strength is nothing compared to those two… there's no way we can intervene in this kind of fight..."

The first-generation Gotei 13 soldiers watched the devastation before them, cold sweat dripping from their brows.

They had sworn to protect the Soul Society—but how could they interfere in a battle where a single swing could obliterate them?

"Are they even going to tire out at all?!"

A shinigami gritted his teeth, staring at the blinding sword lights.

The two combatants were like tireless beasts. Even their residual spiritual pressure made the weaker Shinigami dizzy and nauseous.

None dared advance. Yet retreating would seem like desertion.

"Shit… moving forward is suicide, but backing off looks bad too! What the hell do we do?!"

"Forget it! We don't earn enough to throw our lives away. We wait here!"

"This fight is way too intense. The captains must've noticed it already."

"If even they aren't intervening… yeah, best we just let them keep going."

One more seasoned soldier muttered calmly.

As long as no laws were explicitly broken and promotion wasn't the goal, there was little reason to meddle. Especially not between two monsters.

Meanwhile, Araki and Unohana's battle raged on.

Clang!

Zzzzzzt!

Their Zanpakutōs collided again, brilliant sparks bursting into the air.

"Go—!"

Araki faced the charging Unohana Yachiryu. His arm bulged with veins as he brought his blade down with brute force. The sheer strength he exerted sent Unohana flying like a fly swatted with a fan.

Thud—

Unohana floated midair with graceful control, landing lightly on the rubble more than ten meters away.

"No technique… just pure strength."

Standing firm on the ruined ground, she looked at her trembling hands, frowning slightly.

The distance between them was short—far from safe—but it offered just enough time for each to catch their breath and recalibrate.

"…Seems like Old Man Yama and the other captains are already in position."

Araki tightened his grip on his Zanpakutō and glanced at the rooftops.

Among the watchers, he quickly spotted a bald man—his beloved master, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni.

Well, not fully bald. Compared to his later years, Yamamoto still had some hair left on the back of his head—not quite as shiny as Saitama from One Punch Man just yet...

Hmph?!

Yamamoto, who had been silently observing Araki all this time, suddenly furrowed his brows.

He could somehow tell—his unruly but brilliant disciple, with rare talent in swordsmanship, was probably mocking him in his mind again.

"Where are you looking?! Don't forget — your opponent is me now…"

Just as Araki's gaze briefly crossed with that of Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni, who stood silently in the distance, Unohana Yachiru, not far from Araki, let out a cold voice tinged with dissatisfaction.

"You're fighting me, yet you have time to look elsewhere? How half-hearted."

Unohana's stare pierced through him like blades, her intent clear — to carve him apart for his divided focus.

"No — I simply want to focus more intently. I was checking whether any external interference might disrupt the purity of our duel."

At that, Araki calmly withdrew his gaze from the captains of the Gotei 13 standing behind Yamamoto, returning his focus to Unohana. A faint smile tugged at his lips.

"Slippery tongue."

Unohana's eyes turned colder. Her pale hand clenched the hilt of her Zanpakutō with increasing force, bloodlust radiating off her like waves of heat.

"Hoh?"

Araki raised an eyebrow, locking eyes with her.

He knew words were meaningless to a warrior like Unohana. Only the blade spoke her language. To defeat and conquer her, only overwhelming force would suffice.

"Well then… enough warm-up. Let's begin in earnest."

Unohana lifted her blade, holding it horizontally. With her free hand, she slowly traced the edge — the steel cutting effortlessly into her pale palm. Crimson blood smeared across the edge, saturating the Zanpakutō in a haunting red gleam.

"Heh… I wanted to play a bit longer~"

Despite his seemingly playful tone, Araki's eyes sharpened. Frivolity was a mask — a ploy to lull the opponent into misjudgment. The moment one's own heart succumbs to the mask… that's when death finds you.

Boom!

Unohana didn't speak again. The explosion of spiritual pressure from her body roared like a hurricane — louder than any word could be.

"…So we're really doing this."

Araki's demeanor shifted. The teasing vanished. His Reiatsu surged like an uncapped tide, billowing outward as his battle spirit awakened.

He knew exactly what technique Unohana Yachiru was about to unleash. And he was ready to meet it.

The true fight had just begun.