"Captain Unohana, does this mean I've already learned it?"
Naraku stared blankly at the huge gap in the dōjō wall, then glanced down at the bamboo sword in his hand.
Yup. Still just a bamboo sword.
He clearly hadn't poured in much Reiatsu, yet he'd swung with power comparable to one of his all-out attacks.
So this was the "swordsmanship" Unohana was talking about?
Then what had he been doing in past fights—just winning with brute strength?
Unohana didn't answer. She simply watched Naraku in silence, thought flickering behind her eyes.
After a brief pause, she drew her own bamboo sword. Faint Reiatsu wrapped around the blade as she made a completely ordinary cut.
Her stance, her angle—everything looked exactly like the basic Academy sword forms.
But in Naraku's eyes, it became something else entirely.
A crushing sea of blood surged overhead, its cold, viscous touch pressing in on all sides as if he were submerged and sinking.
Endless killing intent seeped in through every pore, worming its way into his organs and down to his bones.
Her once-gentle face seemed stained red with blood, like some terrible demon dragging itself out of hell.
Just looking at that blunt bamboo sword gave him the illusion of standing right in front of death.
It felt like his flesh could be stripped away in an instant and his life erased on the spot.
Only now did Naraku truly grasp the distance between them.
Like heaven and earth.
"Not bad."
Unohana's voice sounded, and in that instant the illusion vanished. The gentle Fourth Division captain, beloved by everyone, returned.
As one of the oldest captains in the Gotei 13, she'd seen more geniuses than she could count—fresh graduates who'd already achieved Bankai, monsters who couldn't use swordsmanship at all yet still out-slashed her in the chaos of battle.
But the number of people who had actually shaken her heart?
Exactly two.
And the boy standing in front of her was undeniably one of them.
Unlike those "born-max-level" monsters who casually sealed themselves just to make fights more fun, Naraku felt more like someone who'd just leapt from zero to one in a single step.
If someone had told her yesterday that a person could jump from basic sword drills to grasping the essence of swordsmanship in one day, she would've laughed in their face.
Even seeing it with her own eyes today, it still felt like…
Complete nonsense.
Yet he had perfectly recreated all the subtle shifts in form, perfectly controlled his Reiatsu, and somehow managed to do it all in such a short time.
Back then, going from basic forms to true swordsmanship had cost her an entire month—and even then, her teacher had called her a once-in-a-millennium prodigy.
She'd built the name "Yachiru" on that foundation.
Now, she'd met someone whose talent for the sword surpassed even hers.
And finally understood the look in other people's eyes when they watched her.
That sense of a gap so vast no amount of time or effort could ever bridge it.
"Even better than I expected."
Unohana smiled slightly and looked at him. "Can you tell me what you felt when you grasped it? Your… insight, so to speak?"
Naraku grinned. "Easy. Pure instinct!"
Her smile froze.
Her eyes opened just a little wider, and after a long moment she took a deep breath, as if pressing something down.
"Naraku-kun, you're reminding me of some… rather unpleasant memories."
"So the rest of our 'discussion' about swordsmanship may come with a bit of personal emotion attached. I hope you're prepared for that."
Naraku: "?"
The one who arrived at the dōjō without sparing a single second of silence for his "instinct" was—
Yachiru Unohana.
...
...
Fifth Division barracks, front gate.
When the gate guard saw a boy covered in bruises from head to toe, face swollen and battered, he didn't dare slack off. He hurried forward at once.
"Hey there. Do you need me to take you to the General Relief Station? You don't look so good."
"Thanks, I just came from there," Naraku replied politely, his words slightly slurred.
Gate guard: "?"
What on earth had this kid gone through?
If this was how he looked after Fourth Division treated him, then before treatment he must've been hanging on by a thread.
Ignoring whatever scenarios the man was imagining, Naraku shook his head and said seriously:
"I'm actually here to see Aizen Sōsuke. You do have someone by that name in your squad, right?"
The guard thought for a moment, then nodded in realization.
"You mean the new seated officer, Aizen-sama."
"Please come with me. Aizen-sama is currently in his office dealing with paperwork."
He turned and headed into the barracks.
Naraku blinked, then quickly followed.
They made their way to the office. The gate guard pointed at the figure bent over a desk in the spacious room, then left them.
Inside, Naraku took in the scene.
Just as he'd guessed, Aizen was being targeted and isolated in Fifth Division.
The paperwork stacked like a mountain was enough to make your eyes blur and your skull itch just looking at it—never mind the little plaque standing on the desk, the ultimate insult:
"Dragon of Documents."
Sensing a shadow in front of him, Aizen looked up. When he saw who it was, his hand instinctively moved to cover the plaque.
Too late.
"Yikes. 'Dragon of Documents,' huh?" Naraku said in a tone that practically begged to be punched. "That's so you, Aizen."
Even though this honorary title—from captain down to rank-and-file—was a collective acknowledgement of his "achievements," somehow, having this guy see it made it feel… weirdly shameful.
He really should've refused Shinji's "suggestion."
Aizen silently pushed the plaque aside and buried it under a pile of documents. He glanced at Naraku, frowned slightly.
"What happened? Who beat you up like that?"
Naraku sighed, pulled a chair over, and carefully sat down—making sure not to put pressure on the injuries on his backside.
"Like some kid with no mom—too long to explain."
"Then make it short."
"Got pounded by a crazy woman."
Aizen understood immediately. He'd probably mouthed off to some captain-class Shinigami and then gotten the "big bullying the small" treatment.
"Let's save what makes you happy for later," Naraku said, baring his teeth in what might've been a grin. "Aizen, how's that investigation I asked you for going?"
He snapped up a soundproof barrier around them both.
"Did you find the mastermind?"
After the Araki family's disaster, First Division had ordered everyone to stop discussing the incident—but the commotion had been too big, too many had seen it. There was no way to completely suppress it.
So even if no one talked openly, everyone knew something had happened to the Araki clan.
Hearing Naraku's question, Aizen's gaze dropped slightly. His voice was quiet.
"It might be connected to the Five Great Noble Houses…"