BLEACH: UNOHANA RETSU IS MY WIFE

"Araki! You mustn't fall into decline! Master Genryusai has high hopes for you!"

Chojiro Sasakibe said anxiously, clearly more concerned about Araki's future than Araki himself. As Araki's self-proclaimed best friend, Chojiro feared that Araki would spend his days indulging in women and idleness, wasting his overwhelming talent—and ultimately disappointing the high expectations placed on him by Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto.

"You're calling me degenerate? What kind of joke is that?"

"Do you think I'm someone who lacks self-control?"

Araki frowned, clearly displeased. He glared at Chojiro, his tone cold.

"My eyes became like this not because of what you think, but for... other, more important reasons."

Chojiro hesitated, his mouth slightly open as he looked at Araki. He wanted to say something but stopped himself—then finally gave in.

"No, I really do think you're someone who lacks self-control."

Araki burst out laughing at that. But his laughter carried a tinge of irritation.

"So that's what this is, huh? You came here to pick a fight!"

He pointed at Chojiro with a smirk, his voice cold and sharp.

"Uh... how should I put this?"

Chojiro was momentarily at a loss.

"Actually, you're wrong. I didn't come here for a fight. I came here to ask for your help. I want you to guide me... so I can improve myself."

He straightened up, his expression serious now.

"Ever since that day you spoke with Master Genryusai in the conference room, he's changed. No matter how busy he is, he now spends at least two hours every day training—'cutting,' 'fist combat,' 'movement,' 'kido,' even refining his Zanpakutō techniques."

"Watching him push himself like that made me realize—if I keep falling behind, I'll no longer be worthy of standing behind him as his right hand."

"So please, Araki... help me become stronger! Make me worthy of my position beside Master Genryusai!"

Chojiro finally laid bare his true reason for visiting, correcting Araki's misunderstanding.

Yes—after Araki's bold speech at the captain's meeting, Yamamoto seemingly banished Araki and Unohana from the First Division's grounds, forbidding them from stepping foot there without direct permission. But in truth, the old man had taken every word to heart. Secretly, he'd been training harder than ever, preparing himself for the coming Quincy war.

"Heh..."

Araki smiled, not the least bit surprised that Yamamoto had taken his advice to heart.

"So, Chojiro... You're asking me to help train you? Make you stronger?"

"Exactly."

Chojiro bowed slightly, his tone full of respect.

"Alright, alright. Since you're asking so sincerely—how could I, your 'best friend,' say no?"

"But be warned: my training is tough. I hope you're ready to endure it."

"I am."

Chojiro nodded firmly.

"No matter how painful it gets, I'll stick with it."

"Good..."

Araki's expression sharpened with amusement.

"Like I said before, helping you become stronger isn't much different from beating you up."

"If you want to learn how to fight, you have to learn how to take a beating first!"

He clapped Chojiro on the shoulder and gestured toward the exit of the 11th Division barracks.

"Let's go. The training grounds should be ready—Rei and her team just finished cleaning them up."

"Eh?"

Chojiro blinked, confused.

Something didn't sit right with him about Araki's words—but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

When they arrived at the open training grounds, Chojiro's confusion deepened.

"Wait a second... This open area—didn't the 11th Division not have something like this before?"

"It was prepared specially for you," Araki replied bluntly.

"Specially for me? How did you know I was going to visit?"

Chojiro stared in shock.

He couldn't understand—how could Araki have known this would happen?

Araki simply smiled.

"Like I said... The reason my eyes are red... is something else entirely."

Looking back, Araki's eyes seemed to flash with scarlet electric light, stretching into fine silk-like threads. This was the manifestation of his advanced Observation Haki, which had never ceased functioning—always active, always watching—for the sake of taking the lead in the potential invasion by Yhwach.

Compared to when he was only at the third-level spiritual power stage, where he could barely predict a few seconds into the future, Araki—now bolstered by second-level spiritual power—could foresee events minutes ahead!

Thus, even before Sasakibe arrived, Araki had already predicted the encounter. He instructed Unohana Retsu to prepare the location in advance and greet Sasakibe outside the dojo.

Previously, Unohana had told Sasakibe that she still had unresolved matters with the 11th Division to handle...

Because of time constraints, the venue wasn't fully cleaned up, so she took advantage of Araki's conversation with Sasakibe and used her Zanpakutō to swiftly tidy the open space outside the swordplay dojo.

"Uh…"

Hearing these developments, sweat beaded across Sasakibe's forehead. He felt as though he had walked straight into an intricate web, with Araki pulling the strings from the shadows—every step already within his control.

"Araki, you're still as terrifying as ever… Master Genryusai was right about you."

Sasakibe offered a wry smile. Inwardly, his admiration for Genryusai's choice of Araki as his successor deepened. Indeed, Master Genryusai had seen it clearly—Araki possessed not only "heart" and "skill," but also the "body" needed to carry such weight.

"All right, Sasakibe, stop stalling and come over here~"

"Let me see how much you've improved in the past hundred years!"

"Of course, if your growth disappoints me, be ready to get beaten up. Consider yourself warned~"

Ignoring Sasakibe's flattery, Araki hooked a finger at him, signaling for him to attack without reservation.

Today's training objective was simple—Araki wanted to strengthen Sasakibe's durability.

After all, Araki clearly remembered how Sasakibe had been taken out in a single strike during the bloody war when his Bankai was stolen by a Quincy.

As for his skill in slashing, hand-to-hand, or Kido, Araki wasn't concerned—for now.

When it came to pure endurance, Sasakibe's weakness was glaring.

Even with a powerful Bankai, his durability was a far cry from someone like Hinamori Momo, the future vice-captain of the 5th Division...

Cough cough…

"Then I won't hold back!"

Sasakibe, no longer hesitating after Araki's words, drew the Zanpakutō at his waist and leveled it toward Araki.

With a whisper, his blade transformed into a sleek Western-style sword, its tip gleaming with spiritual energy.

"Careful!"

In the same instant his Zanpakutō was released, Sasakibe flashed forward and appeared in front of Araki.

"Heh…"

Araki merely gave a faint smile and reached out to grasp the slender blade of Gonryōmaru with one bare hand.

"What?!"

Sasakibe's eyes widened in disbelief.

Bang!

Before he could react, Araki had already raised his leg and planted a clean kick into Sasakibe's abdomen.

"Not good—!"

Too late. Sasakibe couldn't avoid the blow.

Bang~!

With a dull thud, he was sent flying.

"If this is all you've got, Sasakibe… I'm truly disappointed."

"To deal with you, I may not even need my Zanpakutō."

Araki watched him tumble backward, then calmly unfastened his blade from his waist and thrust it lazily into the ground.

"Try your best to make me draw it… Sasakibe."

His tone was light, but the weight behind the words was crushing.

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