BLEACH: UNOHANA RETSU IS MY WIFE

Outside the 11th Division's Swordplay Dojo

Once again, the bright silver blade of Chojiro Sasakibe was knocked to the ground by none other than Unohana Retsu.

"Ah…"

From his usual lounging spot—leaning against the ventilation window of the 11th Division's head room—Araki sighed at the sight.

"…Seriously, Sasakibe, can you even do this?"

As always, Araki kept his lazy demeanor, watching the events unfold with an exasperated shake of his head.

Sasakibe Chojiro isn't Renji—can he stop worrying about whether he can manage it already? Ahem...

There was no helping it. At this moment, Sasakibe's battered appearance was simply too pitiful...

As the fierce duel between Sasakibe and Unohana dragged on, every morning when he awoke, Sasakibe found himself twitching from pain. His once neatly combed slicked-back grey hair was now matted with blood. That carefully maintained gentleman's cut had frizzed into a wild mess, making him look utterly disheveled.

His pristine white haori—always spotless and his pride as Vice Captain—was now soaked in blood. Whether it was his or Unohana's, even Sasakibe himself wasn't sure.

But what he was sure of… was that his own Zanpakutō had not even once touched Unohana Retsu.

At this point, Sasakibe no longer resembled the noble "gentleman" of the 1st Division. No—he looked more like a wandering beggar with nowhere to return to.

"As much as I don't want to admit it… the gap in strength is just too wide."

"So wide that even if I fought her a hundred times, I'd still lose."

"Heh… Captain Unohana truly lives up to her legend—the founder of the 11th Division, the original Kenpachi... Her strength knows no bounds."

"So then, Araki—what kind of level have you reached, to have defeated someone like her?!"

Lying in a pool of his own blood, Sasakibe could only gaze up at the demon-like silhouette of Unohana. Despite his best efforts, he hadn't even grazed her.

He understood now—Unohana Retsu wasn't just strong. She was terrifying. Only someone with that kind of overwhelming strength could have established the original 11th Division and given birth to the title of "Kenpachi."

And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that when Araki had sparred with him earlier… Araki had been holding back.

"Is this your limit, Sasakibe?"

Compared to the battered and panting Sasakibe, Unohana Retsu stood effortlessly, holding her sword in one hand. She hadn't even broken a sweat.

Yes—Unohana didn't need to try hard to bring Sasakibe to his knees. The difference in ability was immense. She hadn't even warmed up, and yet Sasakibe had already fallen.

"At the very least, make me draw the dark blade hidden in my left sleeve before you collapse…"

Her calm, pitying eyes looked down on him.

That's right—Unohana was no ordinary swordswoman. Hidden in the cuff of her left sleeve was a dark blade, used for surprise strikes.

Unohana Retsu was never "just" a swordswoman—she was a creature born for battle. In her eyes:

"Why rely on a single blade when a hidden one is just as deadly?"

Whether it was the dark sword or the main one she held, Unohana would wield whatever weapon was needed to destroy her enemy.

The only reason she didn't use the hidden blade against Araki or Sasakibe… was simply that she didn't have to.

Against Araki, the battle was so intense that even the slightest distraction—like drawing the hidden blade—might have cost her the fight.

But against Sasakibe?

She didn't need the blade. Before she could even consider drawing it, Sasakibe had already collapsed from her main strikes alone.

The difference between them was like the gulf between the fully unleashed young Zaraki Kenpachi in his first battle, and his sealed self from earlier days.

No—Sasakibe had done worse than the sealed Zaraki.

At least he had forced Unohana to draw her dark blade.

"I can't fall like this…"

"I swore to follow Genryusai-sama for life!"

"Stand tall! Even if it's my last move—!"

Just as Unohana was about to turn away, disappointed, Sasakibe staggered to his feet again from the sea of blood.

Clutching his Zanpakutō tightly, he raised it once more toward Unohana Retsu. His eyes burned—not with fear, but with the stubborn resolve of a man who had dedicated his entire life to following Genryusai Yamamoto.

He had to stand again. He had to endure.

He would be the "shadow" of the Captain-Commander—an extension of Yamamoto's will, his sword, and his shield.

"Heh…"

In response, Unohana merely smiled lightly.

Shua!

With a whisper through the air, two black blades shot out from her left sleeve—arcing toward Chojiro Sasakibe with deadly speed.

"Eh?!"

By the time Chojiro Sasakibe reacted, Unohana's dark blade had already pierced straight through his abdomen. The momentum of the strike sent him flying, nailing him directly to the outer wall of the 11th Division's barracks.

Sasakibe: "I stood up… and got one-shotted again. I have no words…"

"Tsk—"

In the squad captain's room, next to the open window…

Araki turned his head away from the window, unable to keep watching.

"No, seriously, Suzuki—you're not some Fairy Tail mage. Why do you keep exploding like that? Does it help? No? Then stop doing it! Look, you got taken out again!"

"Looks like that's enough for today."

Unohana Retsu, standing calmly amid the wreckage, sheathed her Zanpakutō. With practiced grace, she retracted the river of blood she had summoned and immediately began healing Sasakibe's ravaged body.

Sasakibe pressed his trembling hand against his wound, face pale with disbelief.

"She didn't even let me finish my sentence..."

Back in the captain's room, Araki casually drew the curtains shut and curled up on the couch.

"Time for a nap."

From that day forward, Araki never watched another second of Unohana's special training sessions with Sasakibe.

Time flew by, as it often does. The older Araki got, the faster the days seemed to pass.

In the blink of an eye, two and a half months had gone by since Chojiro Sasakibe began his training in the 11th Division. And now, the day had come for him to return to his duties in the 1st Division. After all, he wasn't just any Shinigami—he was the vice-captain of the most prestigious squad in the Gotei 13.

"Thank you very much, Captain Unohana, for your instruction these past few months. I've truly learned a great deal."

Bowing deeply, Sasakibe gave his sincerest thanks to his brutal yet enlightening teacher.

"There's no need to be so formal," Unohana replied with a serene smile. "To be honest, you've been the most challenging student I've ever had."

She then looked at him with softened eyes and added kindly, "Still… I have high hopes for you. Everyone walks their own path, after all."

"I understand! When the 1st Division is less busy, I'll definitely return to continue my training. I hope you won't mind!"

Unohana blinked once, then sighed internally.

"You really are… the most persistent man I've ever met."

After a moment, she gave him a rare compliment — acknowledging his relentless will.

"Then I'll take my leave now. Please give my regards to Captain Araki as well. I… won't bother him personally."

With that, Sasakibe turned and walked away, his back straight, spirit renewed. Despite the many near-death experiences, the training had truly worked.

Before training, Unohana could defeat him nine times out of ten in a single second. Now? He estimated he could hold out for four seconds before being cut down six times.

Yes—still a loss. But a massive improvement.

As Sasakibe approached the main gate, a familiar voice drifted across the courtyard. He turned his head—

"Hmm? Is that… Araki? He left his room?"

He squinted, surprised. Wasn't that Captain Kadori of the 8th Division walking with him?

Sure enough, there was Araki, smiling and chatting pleasantly at the side of a petite woman with large round glasses, a curiously childlike appearance, and an unexpectedly… voluptuous figure.

"Captain Kadori, please watch your step," Araki said with a gentle tone. "The 11th Division's roadwork is never ideal."

"Hm~" replied Kadori, tilting her head with a cute hum.

Chojiro Sasakibe stared in disbelief.

"Araki… you can walk?! You left your captain's room?!"

His jaw twitched. When he had arrived, Araki hadn't even come out to greet him — not once!

"You didn't even say goodbye! You—traitor!!"

And thus, in that one moment, a deep, ancient friendship that had lasted for hundreds—no, thousands of years…

Crumbled into dust.

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