Makoto felt the familiar embrace of Yachiru Unohana, his master envelop him once more. The weight of his grievous wounds and the sinking haze of his spirit dragged him into a deep, prolonged slumber.
Even with the Wall of Sighs serving as his final line of defense, maintaining his will still demanded an immense toll on his mind.
He vaguely sensed himself being carried in the blur of consciousness, moving swiftly in someone's arms.
Probably heading back to the infirmary, right?
That was his last thought.
Time slipped by, unmeasured until Makoto finally felt a flicker of strength return to his body. Slowly, he pried his eyes open.
But no sooner had his mind begun to stir than a piercing, anguished wail shattered the silence beside him.
"No, no, please, nooo, ughhh!!!"
Makoto jolted awake, startled by the sound.
That voice, it was unmistakably Chika Shihōin's!
What had they done to him?!
He struggled to turn his head, his body protesting with sharp stabs of pain at every slight movement. After what felt like an eternity, he managed to glance sideways.
His pupils trembled at the sight.
There stood his beloved master, Unohana, by the edge of a straw shelter. Makoto, Chika Shihōin, and the remaining wounded lay sprawled across dry grass mats. In Unohana's hands was a weapon, its lower half a sword hilt, its upper half a grotesque, wriggling thing resembling a geoduck… or perhaps a sea cucumber?
No, it was something else entirely, a slimy, fleshy, constantly wriggling creature with tentacle-like barbs sprouting from its surface.
"Subdue the pain, Minazuki."
Then, beneath the horrified gazes of the onlookers and amidst Chika Shihōin's tortured cries, Unohana thrust the geoduck-like appendage straight into the dark-skinned man's mouth, silencing his screams with brutal efficiency.
Makoto stared, dumbfounded, as the creature writhed like a living thing, extending deeper into Chika's body. Its tendrils glistened with a crystalline secretion.
A chill crept up his spine.
"Pretty incredible, isn't it, Makoto-kun?"
As he sat there, stunned, a voice whispered beside him, laced with barely concealed amusement.
Batsu'unsai Katori adjusted her glasses, her eyes glinting with fascination as she leaned in to explain. "Captain Unohana's Zanpakutō is a living healing type, an exceedingly rare phenomenon."
"Even I've only read about a handful of such cases in The Secret Chronicles of a Thousand Zanpakutō Forms."
"Rumor has it." She continued, "If Captain Unohana alters her release phrase, her Zanpakutō can take on entirely different shapes."
"Hm, oh, I see…" Makoto's voice quivered as he forced a smile. "That's… really something."
"Isn't it just?" Katori's eyes sparkled. "Thanks to Captain Unohana, every single one of these wounded souls will pull through."
"Hm? Wait a second!"
A sudden realization struck him, and Makoto hurriedly glanced down at himself.
To his dismay, his body was already wrapped tightly in a cocoon of bandages.
"What are you looking at?"
Before he could process it, Unohana had finished "treating" Chika and now stood beside him, her voice calm and measured.
Sweat prickled across Makoto's skin.
What could he possibly say to avoid the same fate as Chika, having that geoduck-sea-cucumber monstrosity shoved down his throat?!
"N-Nothing really…"
But before he could finish, his blasted little Zanpakutō decided to stir up trouble again.
[Eww~ Unohana-sensei's sword! Super ugly!]
[I've never seen anything that gross before!]
[And, oh, oh!, having that huge thing stuffed in him, Blackie-chan must want to die, right? Hehehe!]
[I'm gonna record this right now and print ten thousand copies for the Daireishokairō!]
[This is it! The ultimate humiliation!!!]
The air beneath the straw shelter fell deathly still.
He'd said it.
Brave Makoto had once again voiced the unspeakable truth no one else dared utter.
The other shinigami lying beneath the shelter turned to him, their gazes alight with something akin to awe, as if beholding a hero.
Before Unohana could respond, Chika who moments ago had worn a blank, insulted expression, suddenly snapped. His body trembled as he struggled to rise, his hoarse, cracked voice roaring with raw fury.
"I-I'll fight you to the death!"
"Yorita!"
But Makoto had no time to entertain him.
Sweat poured down the boy's back like rain.
Unohana stood before him as serene as ever, her face adorned with that gentle, kindly smile.
Only now, her Zanpakutō had shifted back into its sea cucumber form.
She raised it, inspecting it closely with a faint air of puzzlement.
"Hmm…"
"Is it really that ugly?"
"I've always thought it was rather cute."
Makoto's face darkened slightly, but he steeled himself to reply. "Ahem, Sensei… you know me. I'm always saying the opposite of what I mean."
"The things my Zanpakutō blurts out, they're usually nothing like what I'm actually thinking."
"Really?" Unohana asked, her smile unwavering.
"Really!" Makoto swore with fervent conviction.
"Is that so?" Unohana's tone carried a hint of disappointment. "I was thinking, if you truly disliked this form, I could switch it to something else for you."
Makoto blinked, momentarily thrown, before rallying himself with renewed vigor. His tone shifted abruptly.
"…But!"
"Sensei, sometimes trying something new isn't such a bad thing."
"Right?"
Unohana's smile returned, warm and approving. "Is that so? Well, that's wonderful then."
Makoto braced himself mentally.
Compared to having Minazuki rammed down his throat, he'd much rather let it swallow him whole.
Then, Unohana adjusted her release phrase slightly:
"Devour his wounds, Minazuki."
In an instant, the sea cucumber morphed into a massive, pink peach-heart shape with a pointed tip.
Unohana smiled and aimed the tip straight at him.
[Wait a second!]
[Sensei! Unohana-sensei, nooo!]
[There's no way! That thing's too big, it'll never fit into my gyatt!]
Makoto's eyes widened, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.
So this blasted sword could sink even lower?!
But this time, Unohana paid no heed to his Zanpakutō's protests. With a single thrust...
Whoosh!
The peach heart split open from its tip, unfurling into an octopus-like form.
With a wet plop, it engulfed Makoto's body whole.
The healing began.
"Hiss…"
The surrounding onlookers gasped in unison, drawing in sharp breaths.
Forget it.
They'd stick with the sea cucumber.
Only Katori watched with gleaming eyes, her small hands scribbling furiously across her notepad.
This was invaluable data on a partial Shikai transformation!
Record it!
Once the wounded had been hastily tended to, Unohana led the group back toward the headquarters in District 64.
This ambush had netted them two heads of the Five Great Noble Families, albeit newly appointed ones, in a single sweep. It was a victory so resounding it needed no elaboration.
Beyond that, the information locked within these two captives' minds would prove the greatest prize of the Genji School's operation. That was precisely why Unohana had chosen to bring them back alive.
The dojo.
Chika Shihōin and Yorita Shiba stood before them, their bodies seemingly unburdened but secretly bound by layers of intricate Kidō restraints.
At this moment, their physical prowess barely exceeded that of an average Shinigami soldier.
And they were about to face someone even their peak selves could never hope to challenge.
Thud!
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto's staff tapped lightly against the wooden floor.
Chōjirō Sasakibe and Genshirō Okikiba stood silently behind him, ever the dutiful attendants.
Chika Shihōin and Yorita Shiba lifted their heads in unison.
So this was the mastermind of the Genji School?
Everything they'd witnessed on their journey here clashed starkly with the images they'd conjured from intelligence reports.
These shinigami, branded as Rukongai Calamities, mere bandits by the Seireitei operated under a rigid code of discipline.
From the mountains to the plains, the lives of the common folk were stable and serene.
There were no traces of the ravaged aftermath one might expect.
At the very least, it was a far cry better than many lands under noble rule.
Yamamoto regarded the two young nobles before him, his voice as steady and unyielding as ever.
"Our first meeting. I am Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto."
"No doubt, you both understand why I've summoned you here."
"Have you anything to say?"
Yorita's expression was visibly subdued.
He looked at Yamamoto, a flood of questions swirling in his mind, yet he couldn't find the words to begin.
Chika meanwhile had regained some composure after the earlier ordeal of ultimate humiliation. Facing Yamamoto, his tone was light, almost playful, as he smiled.
"Oh, there's plenty to say…"
"But, old man..."
Chika leaned forward slightly, tilting his chin up as he asked, "If we spill the intel, can we trade it for a life?"
Sasakibe's brow furrowed, his lips parting to speak, but Yamamoto raised a hand to silence him, replying calmly.
"That depends on whether the information you offer is worth your lives, noble heads."
His emphasis lingered on "noble heads."
Trivial scraps wouldn't suffice for this man.
Chika considered this for a moment before breaking into a grin. "Then how about this… I'll start with one piece. Something big enough to threaten everyone, including you, old man, a matter of life and death."
"Old man."
His smile turned sly, mysterious. "Have you ever heard of the Tsunayashiro's divine armament?"
***
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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