Soul Society, the deepest level of the Central Great Underground Prison: Muken.

A realm of silence and shadow, devoid of color or substance.

Absolute darkness and stillness had long pervaded this subterranean expanse, perhaps older than the Seireitei itself.

Only the most terrifying figures in Soul Society's history, beings too powerful to kill, sealed away by desperate measures, had ever graced this place.

Yet now, only endless black remained.

Time slays all.

But today, Muken stirred with unusual activity.

Tap, tap, tap.

Crisp footsteps echoed from above.

With the sound, a brilliant light flared to life.

Unohana, seated in the heart of the dark void, slowly opened her eyes, gazing toward the source.

Makoto, clad in a fitted Shihakusho, an Zanpakuto in hand, approached his sensei with measured steps.

They faced each other in silence.

At their level of power, even a spar could risk shattering the Soul Society.

Muken, enduring eons, unyielding, capable of imprisoning history's mightiest, was the only safe arena for such a clash.

Snap.

Makoto flicked his fingers.

A cold, spectral flame ignited in the distance, casting light on Unohana's piercing gaze.

Sensing his attention, she rose, her raven hair cascading like a waterfall, stark against her snow-white skin.

She circled him slowly, Zanpakuto in hand, her voice cool. "From our first meeting, I knew your potential would surpass my expectations, Makoto-kun."

"But now that this moment has arrived, it feels almost unreal."

"Your brilliance exceeds even my imagination."

"Makoto."

Her straw sandals whispered against the ground.

Makoto listened, a pang of nostalgia stirring within.

Even now, he vividly recalled their first encounter.

A lone, ignorant boy, hardened by years in the brutal wilds of Zaraki, had stumbled from a slaughterhouse of chaos. There, he met a woman, a queen among killers.

Fueled by reckless courage, he'd drawn his blade against her without hesitation.

Later, Makoto had often wondered: had he known she was Unohana, the legendary warrior of a thousand years past, would he have dared to strike?

His fingers brushed the hilt of his Zanpakuto, his steps steady. "In truth, I'm the one who should be grateful." He said, his voice even, matching his pace. "It was that first clash with you, sensei, that gave me the courage to draw my blade against anyone in this world."

A man who dares strike a tiger fears no hound.

Unohana's presence had shattered his illusions about this world's "plot" and "characters."

Her favor and guidance had laid the foundation for his rapid rise.

No one's kindness weighed heavier than hers.

And so, he would repay her with the utmost respect.

Sensing his resolve, Unohana's eyes flickered.

Both circling figures halted in unison.

Shing,

The clear ring of drawn blades pierced the silence.

Blinding swordlight crossed in an instant.

Makoto's Hoho erupted with staggering Reiatsu, his form blurring as he vanished.

Boom!

His right foot slammed forward.

A slash, sharp as a bolt of silk, arced toward Unohana.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Dozens of blade-on-blade collisions rang out, metal screeching as sparks wove radiant arcs through the darkness, scattering outward in relentless streams.

[The deepest passions, buried in the hearts of kindred souls, only bloom in the clash of blades!]

[Zanjutsu +5]

Even at Tier 16, the gap between him and Unohana was still so vast?

The thought flashed through Makoto's mind.

As their blades parted, his eyes flicked to Unohana's sleeve, recalling the hidden dagger from their first duel.

But in that glance, he caught her faint smile.

A sharp whistle cut the air.

A kick?

Unohana's leg, usually concealed by her robes, whipped upward. A glimpse of pale calf flashed beneath her black Shihakusho, a glint of steel between her white tabi and sandal.

Makoto instinctively leaned back, bending like a bridge.

Swish!

A razor-thin blade shot from her foot, slicing through the air like a silver chain, her white haori flaring in a graceful arc.

Her Zanpakuto followed, carving a half-circle from above.

Clang.

A dull thud.

As Makoto barely deflected the strike, Unohana's voice rang out. "Looking for this?"

In that instant, a shrill hum tore through the air.

A short blade extended from her left sleeve, thrusting toward Makoto's heart.

But before it reached his Shihakusho, Makoto twisted, his left arm swinging to knock the dagger off course. A sonic boom echoed as it veered.

Seizing the moment, Makoto adjusted, his Zanpakuto slashing horizontally like thunder.

Unohana's dagger spun, parrying the strike, while her Zanpakuto thrust upward from below, a ruthless, life-for-life gambit, utterly at odds with her usual gentle demeanor, fierce and unrelenting.

But when had Makoto ever backed down from a fight to the death?

Without hesitation, he launched a kick.

"Issoku!"

A deafening roar shook the air. Both combatants flew back over ten meters, shrouded in twin clouds of white dust.

A long gash ran from Makoto's right shoulder to his left abdomen, shallow but bleeding steadily.

Unohana pressed her left ribs, where a dent marred her frame, blood trickling from her lips. Yet a smile curved her mouth.

"Yes."

"This is the battle I craved."

She straightened, her left hand glowing with Kaido's green light, mending her ribs. She wiped the blood from her lips.

Her voice trembled with hoarse excitement. "Pain, fear, exhilaration, desire…"

"In the thrill of a single misstep meaning death, we unleash strength faster, stronger than ever before."

"We are the same, Makoto."

The moment her words fell, an unstoppable surge of Reiatsu poured from her, shimmering particles swirling upward in a torrent.

It erupted skyward, a radiant column of light.

No hesitation, no restraint.

A duel of life and death.

This was the clash of blood and steel Unohana had always yearned for.

In that instant, Makoto released his own seething Reiatsu, pushing his spirit and soul to their limits.

Rumble!

Twin torrents of Reishi illuminated Muken's darkness.

The colliding shockwaves intertwined, their mere presence causing the vast prison to tremble faintly.

These subtle tremors rippled through the Soul Society, morphing into cataclysmic surges that shook the Seireitei.

Shinigami looked around, bewildered, unaware of the source.

Only the captains, seated in their division headquarters, sensed the truth within the clashing Reiatsu.

Many looked toward the source, faces etched with shock.

Sixth Division, Captain's Office.

Saito, crouched on a chair, stuffing mung bean cakes into her mouth as if chewing out a certain idiot, froze mid-bite.

The girl looked up toward the faint Reiatsu, confusion flickering in her single eye. "That's… Makoto and that woman's Reiatsu?"

"Huh? HUH?!"

"Why didn't anyone tell me?!"

Her eye brimmed with bewilderment and unease.

A life-or-death clash between two Tier-1 Reiatsu wielders was a rarity, even in the Soul Society's million-year history.

In the past, she'd never miss such a spectacle.

But when "Makoto" was among the duelists, a drumbeat of unease stirred in Saito's heart, a rare anxiety she hadn't felt in ages.

"Hey! You there!" She shouted.

At her call, the captain's office door creaked open. A tall woman poked her head in, cautiously asking, "Captain Saito? Your orders?"

"When did Makoto and that jerk Unohana's duel start? Where are they?" Saito tossed aside her favorite pastry, her words rapid-fire.

The Vice-Captain of the Sixth Division blinked, equally baffled. "I-I haven't received any such report."

"…"

Saito's voice faltered, realization dawning.

Without hesitation, she vaulted through the window, streaking into the distance.

The stunned vice-captain rushed to the window, shouting, "C-Captain!? It's still work hours!"

Saito wasn't alone in sensing the duel's shockwaves.

First Division Headquarters.

Yamamoto maintained his su-buri stance, each swing steady and forceful.

But as he trained, the door slid open abruptly.

Sasakibe appeared, his expression tense. "Captain-Commander! Makoto and-"

"I know." Yamamoto interrupted, his voice calm, as if he'd anticipated the words.

His su-buri didn't waver.

And why would it?

Muken, the deepest of the Soul Society's eight prisons, was accessible only by the Captain-Commander's key.

Sasakibe hesitated. "But… both Makoto and Captain Unohana are invaluable to the Gotei 13."

He seemed poised to argue, but his tone shifted.

Yamamoto's final swing reduced his wooden sword to dust, scattering across the floor.

Every ounce of force and recoil had been channeled into the fragile blade.

Looking at his worried lieutenant, Yamamoto sighed, turning to the window with a low murmur. "It cannot be stopped."

"A woman like Unohana could never accept her power stagnating forever."

"And if she doesn't act now…"

"…she'll lose her chance."

Sasakibe froze.

Yes.

If she didn't act now, her chance would slip away.

A blade grazed Unohana's cheek, severing stray hairs, only to be parried by her short dagger. Her eyes gleamed with radiant intensity, slicing through the shadows.

Relentless clangs echoed as their forms wove through the fray.

The sustained, high-intensity clash drained their stamina like water through a sieve.

Scratches and cuts multiplied on both Makoto and Unohana, inevitable marks of their ferocity.

Through the [Heir of the Soul King] trait, Makoto's vision displayed Unohana's panel.

[Name: Yachiru Unohana]

[Reiatsu : Low Tier-1 · [Talent Shackle]

[Four Arts:

- Zanjutsu: Tier 20 (99/100) · [Talent Shackle]

- Hakuda: Tier 13 (62/100)

- Kido: Tier 16 (99/100) · [Talent Shackle]

- Hoho: Tier 14 (25/100)

[Zanpakuto: Minazuki (Shikai) → Minazuki (Bankai)]

[Innate Traits: Mind's Eye, Fervor, Ambidexterity, Sword Incarnate, Relentless Combat]

Her panel was a juggernaut, overwhelming Makoto in nearly every aspect.

Without his diverse traits as a buffer, this woman, nearing the zenith of swordsmanship, would have felled him at the duel's outset.

But that…

…made victory all the more meaningful.

Huff...

Makoto stepped back, raising his Zanpakuto before him, eyes locked on Unohana.

The battlefield, torn apart by their clash, was riddled with craters.

Blood trickled from countless shallow wounds, painting him as if battered.

Yet both knew.

This was merely the beginning.

Makoto flashed a grin at Unohana. "Warm-up's over."

"Even you, sensei, must crave a battle that truly thrills, don't you?"

Sensing a shift, Unohana's narrowed eyes flickered with curiosity, studying his blade.

Then, he drew his Zanpakuto across his chest, murmuring.

[Let's make a deal.]

[Whoever reaches the peak of thrill first… loses.]

The moment his words landed, paired with his mischievous smirk, a chill of foreboding gripped Unohana's heart.

"Hm?"

***

[1] Su-buri means practice swings or repetitive cutting exercises. It's commonly used in martial arts like kendo, aikido, and kenjutsu, where it involves practicing sword swings without an opponent, focusing on form and technique. In other words, it's a fundamental training exercise for improving precision, timing, and overall technique.

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Bonus Chapter:

100 Power Stones = 1 BC

300 Power Stones = 2 BC

500 Power Stones = 3 BC

700 Power Stones = 4 BC

1000 Power Stones = 5 BC

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