Inside the Fourth Division's training grounds, the air was thick with scorched reishi and the copper tang of blood.
Unohana Retsu stood tall, her gaze fixed on Higashi Shuuichi—collapsed, unmoving, as if that last Hiryū Gekizoku Shinten Raihō had ripped away his ability to fight.
But she didn't move in to finish him.
Not yet.
Instead, she raised her hand and chanted softly.
"Hadō #54: Haien."
Twin arcs of violet fire lashed out and obliterated the two chains that had shackled her ankles since the match began—bindings meant to handicap her movement.
Then, with a flick of her wrist:
"Hadō #58: Tenran."
Howling whirlwinds surged in every direction, blasting away the thick fog summoned earlier by Shuuichi's Raimei San, his thunder-mist technique.
As the wind cleared the haze, Unohana's eyes flickered.
Ten—no, nearly a dozen—Reishi constructs revealed themselves across the training ground, humanoid silhouettes crackling faintly with spirit energy.
Among them, two had merged at the edges, mouths split impossibly wide, both chanting in perfect synchrony the incantation of a devastating spell:
"Hadō #90: Kurohitsugi..."
"I knew it," Unohana murmured.
She wasn't surprised. Not even slightly.
Shuuichi had been too weak. That wasn't right.
Even before reaching Captain-class, his mastery of Shunpo alone should have let him evade the thunderous Hiryū Gekizoku Shinten Raihō, especially after her Sōkatsui and Ennetsu Jigoku had already taxed her casting tempo and dulled her own reiatsu flow.
He should've been able to dodge. He had the time.
Which meant…
"He's baiting me to come closer."
She moved—Flash Step—and reappeared instantly before the two chanting constructs.
Her blade sliced through both in a clean cross.
They dissolved into particles of white light, banished by her precision.
"Got you," Shuuichi whispered, still lying flat, lips curling into a triumphant smirk.
A breeze whispered across the arena.
And then—Unohana froze.
A flash of lightning appeared on her chest, right over the sternum—just a spark at first.
But it crackled into a web.
Pain wasn't the problem—Unohana felt the numbness spread first.
Byakurai.
Of course she recognized it.
Hadō #4, a basic lightning-type spell taught to beginners at Shin'ō Academy. A weak, underestimated technique. A joke compared to high-level Kidō like Kurohitsugi.
And yet…
It had struck her directly. At point-blank range.
And she couldn't move.
More Byakurai—dozens of them—erupted around her.
They didn't pierce her. They didn't even sting. But they paralyzed, layer upon layer of numbing static locking her limbs, overwhelming her nervous system.
Her brain screamed orders to her body.
Her body refused to obey.
"The art of war lies in deception," Shuuichi whispered, eyes staring up at the storm above. "Hadō #4… Wind-Byakurai."
His Zanpakutō's Shikai—Kikubaku—was all about manipulation, the embedding of hidden variables within even the simplest attack.
Each element had a function:
Fire meant destruction.
Ice brought delay.
Lightning accelerated.
Wind obscured.
That layered effect—deception through misdirection—was inherited by his Reishi constructs. The cost? Those constructs could only cast Kidō below #30.
But they didn't need power.
They just needed to stack.
Earlier, Unohana had been hit with a binding spell—Kuyō Shibari, a mid-level Bakudō—but Shuuichi hadn't spoken its full name aloud.
Why would he?
Two constructs had served as decoys, chanting Kurohitsugi, drawing her attention.
She'd destroyed them easily.
And in that moment—just in that moment—her guard dropped.
It was human. Even for her.
In that sliver of stillness, other constructs released Wind-Byakurai, hidden beneath the dispersing reiatsu signature of the destroyed clones. Subtle. Timed. Lethal.
And now she couldn't move.
Just four constructs remained, continuing the barrage. Shuuichi directed the rest back to his side, dispelling them with a gesture, drawing in their residual reiryoku.
He wouldn't recover physically—his stamina and injuries were too severe—but spiritually?
He had more than enough for one final blow.
He raised his left hand.
And began to chant.
"A crest of turbidity, arrogant and feral talent—tides, denial, paralysis, and slumber; the iron princess crawling, the clay doll self-mutilating—merge, rebound, extend to the earth, know your own helplessness."
He extended a single finger toward her immobilized form.
"Hadō #90: Kurohitsugi."
A massive black coffin rose around her, swallowing her in pure darkness, sealing her within an obsidian prism of spiritual pressure sharpened to the edge of death.
As the shadows swallowed her, Shuuichi caught a glimpse—
—Unohana was smiling.
Not rage.
Not fear.
But exhilaration.
And Shuuichi felt it too.
This wasn't like the Kurohitsugi he'd used against Shihōin Yoruichi—restrained, conservative.
This was all of it.
Unleashed.
Even knowing the gulf between them was massive—even knowing Unohana hadn't released her full spiritual pressure—Shuuichi still felt it.
Hope.
Excitement.
What if…
What if after this fight… she remembered him?
What if Unohana Retsu had someone she couldn't ignore?
But then, in the moment of climax—
A voice tore through the battlefield, loud enough to shatter the tension.
"Higashi Shuuichi!!!"
It echoed through the arena like a thunderclap.
And everything—froze.