She was the First Generation Kenpachi Unohana Yachiru.
A Shinigami who once claimed mastery over all the schools of swordsmanship in the world.
For Unohana, there were only two things she found truly irresistible:
Battle and Kendo.
The technique Aiyan had just used was both a fight and a sword style. That's why it shook her to the core. It wasn't just a slash—it was a fusion of philosophy and combat, a sword of purest form.
The pinnacle of kendo fused with the thrill of battle. This wasn't just any clash.
This was the kind of fight she lived for—the kind that made her feel alive, even in defeat.
"That sword just now…"
"Eight swords in one," Aiyan calmly said, answering the question she hadn't finished asking.
"Eight… swords… in one?" Unohana Yachiru muttered, almost entranced by the words.
"Amazing," she whispered. "With your own strength alone, you've surpassed the Yachiru I've spent over a thousand years perfecting. All the styles I've mastered, all the wisdom I've gathered, all compressed into a single stream—beaten."
She gently repeated the phrase again—"Eight swords in one"—as if tasting every syllable.
After a moment, she slowly pushed herself up from her half-kneeling position, her body pierced, her spirit overwhelmed—but her face wore a serene smile.
"I must admit it."
"In terms of kendo, among all the Shinigami I've ever faced—there is no one better than you."
"Not even myself. Not even the Captain-Commander."
Unohana sighed deeply, but there was no regret. The slight curve of her lips revealed intoxicated joy.
Even while bleeding, even in defeat—she was elated.
Because this was the kind of sword fight she had waited a lifetime to experience.
"Aiyan Sōsuke."
"I, Unohana Yachiru—First Kenpachi—acknowledge you as the strongest."
She looked at him with eyes filled with both clarity and desire.
Yes—the strongest.
She had faced defeat before.
Thousands of years ago, it was Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto who beat her, which led to her stepping down and becoming the first captain of the 11th Division.
Later, she fought the young Zaraki Kenpachi. And when he shattered her spirit in raw Reiatsu, she gave up her title and name, becoming Unohana Retsu, the gentle captain of the 4th Division.
But in none of those fights did she lose in swordsmanship.
With Yamamoto, she lost to sheer power—the overwhelming heat and dominance of Ryūjin Jakka.
With Zaraki, she lost to his limitless spiritual pressure—the wild hunger of someone who had never known control.
But in kendo?
In the way of the sword?
She had never been bested.
Until now.
Today, against Aiyan, she lost completely.
Not just in strength or pressure—but in the path of the sword itself.
"Tonight, my kendo has chosen you. You now carry the title of strongest in the way of the sword. I am truly glad… because in my defeat, I reached a new clarity—'Ten Thousand Swords Return to One.'"
"The strongest?" Aiyan echoed softly, but there was no pride in his voice.
Instead, his gaze drifted, deep in thought, focused not on the praise—but on the revelation he had just touched:
"Ten Thousand Swords Return to One"—a concept that had just bloomed in his mind.
That title—"strongest"—meant little to him compared to a deeper understanding of the sword.
Standing nearby, Aizen Sōsuke smiled.
He understood. For other Shinigami, being called Kenpachi would be the highest honor.
But for Aiyan?
The name didn't matter.
To be the best in Kendo, Kidō, Hakuda, Hohō, Reiatsu, and Zanpakutō—to be strongest in all six disciplines—that was his pursuit.
And Aizen respected that deeply.
"What's wrong?" Unohana asked. "You don't seem happy."
"Would you be happy over something that was always a fact?" Aiyan replied.
Unohana fell silent, stunned.
"I see... so your ambition lies beyond the sword. No—it isn't limited by the sword at all."
Now she understood.
Aiyan didn't aim to be a master of just one path—he aimed to become a perfect hexagon, equally flawless in every core aspect of a Shinigami.
Their eyes met, and the silence between them deepened.
Unohana could feel it clearly—Aiyan's clarity, his composure, his quiet but unwavering ambition.
"That sword just now… it wasn't your limit, was it?" she asked.
"I could feel it. There's something even greater behind it."
"It's a shame… today has to end here."
She looked up at the cracked Kidō barrier above them. Dawn was breaking.
Her expression was filled with regret—not because she had lost.
But because the fight couldn't continue.
This kind of battle was more addictive than any drug.
"People would die," Unohana said calmly. "For a Kenpachi, death is the final destination."
"To die seeing the highest peak of swordsmanship… there's no greater honor."
But then, she shook her head slightly.
"Still… Now isn't the time."
Her tone softened, yet there was an edge to it.
This was the woman who once ruled the battlefield, whose blade brought death without mercy.
And though centuries of peace had hidden that side—it was never truly gone.
If needed, she could tear off that mask and return to being the demon from a thousand years ago, ready to bathe the battlefield in blood once more.
"If that's your wish," Aiyan replied, "I will fulfill it."
"You are the First Kenpachi. The strongest female Shinigami in history. If anyone is worthy of a final battle, it's you."
He met her gaze without flinching.
"When the time comes, I'll be the one to escort you to the end… with my own sword."
Unohana's eyes lit up.
Not with love. But with a desire only someone like her could understand. The thirst for a perfect death.
"I look forward to it."
She smiled.
It was the smile of someone who had found peace in the promise of a worthy end.
"Aiyan Sōsuke… one more thing."
She turned to the man beside Aiyan.
"By rights, I should hand you the title of Kenpachi tonight. You beat me with the sword. That title should be yours now."
"But... hundreds of years ago, someone else already took it from me."
"I never used Bankai that day, but the result was still defeat."
"So the name 'Kenpachi'... and the captaincy of Squad 11… no longer belong to me."
"I'm sorry. I can't give you those spoils."
Her voice held a trace of guilt.
...
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