BLEACH: UNOHANA RETSU IS MY WIFE

At the same time...

On the battlefield where Araki and Unohana Yachiryu clashed—

Araki's Bankai had transformed the sky into a kaleidoscope of radiant glass light, replacing the sun with endless shimmering brilliance that bathed the entire land. That light enveloped everything—Unohana Yachiryu and the vast pool of blood beneath her included.

In contrast, Unohana's Bankai had unleashed an endless torrent of searing plasma, flooding the battlefield and soaking the earth in crimson. The blood sea surged forward, rapidly engulfing Araki's feet and steadily climbing up to his calves with terrifying speed.

"To be honest, with the nature of our Bankai, this place—the Soul Society—isn't really suited for our battle."

"If we let this continue, won't your sea of blood and my glass light swallow the entire Soul Society?" Araki said calmly, gazing at Unohana standing in the crimson tide.

Unohana responded with a cold, disdainful glint in her eyes.

"Since we both chose to use Bankai, what's the point in holding back?!"

At this point, Unohana no longer cared about the fate of the Soul Society. There was only one thing that mattered—

Fight.

Fight until one of them falls!

Suddenly—

Boom!

A spiritual pressure surged into the heavens—far more fierce and violent than either Araki or Unohana's.

It was not like Unohana's icy, bone-chilling reiatsu. This one radiated searing heat, a burning, scorching force that felt like standing before the sun itself.

"Huh?!"

Both Araki and Unohana halted, lowering their blades and turning toward the source of the overwhelming pressure.

There, a man stood.

A middle-aged figure in a sleeveless white haori, bearing a bold cross-shaped scar on his forehead. Quietly, he unsheathed his Zanpakutō and murmured:

"Reduce all creation to ash—Ryūjin Jakka."

Boom!!

With those ancient words, a towering inferno erupted toward the heavens, as if splitting the sky in half. Flames swept across half the Soul Society.

Had the onlookers not known this was merely his Shikai, they might have mistaken it for a devastating Bankai release.

"So hot..."

"Even after all these years, his sword still feels like a force of pure violence."

Araki couldn't help but smile slightly at the sight. Despite everything, his stern old master had not grown weak.

Yes—this man was none other than Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni, the founder of the Genryū Sword School, chief instructor of the Genjijuku, Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13, and strongest Shinigami in Soul Society.

His Zanpakutō—Ryūjin Jakka—was the strongest flame-type Zanpakutō in Soul Society, with unparalleled destructive power.

Boom!

With a single swing of his flaming sword, Yamamoto directed an inferno across the battlefield. The fire swept out in all directions, pushing back Unohana's blood sea and Araki's light.

Within moments, Ryūjin Jakka's flames had risen like a wall ten thousand feet high, trapping both Bankai within a blazing prison that spanned two ri.

"You can't be allowed to destroy the Soul Society."

Yamamoto's voice was calm but absolute as he addressed both Araki and Unohana.

"Tsk..."

Araki silently grumbled. Old man... if anyone's Zanpakutō is dangerous enough to destroy the Soul Society, it's yours!

"In theory, the best place for a duel between you two lunatics would be in the Hell Realm guarded by my division."

"But no matter." Yamamoto continued without pause. "Since you've both gone this far, finish your duel—within the flames I've prepared."

With that, Yamamoto sat quietly on a stone slab. Ryūjin Jakka in hand like a cane, he gazed toward the battlefield with grave serenity.

"No more words. Don't worry about me. You two are the main act."

"...You're really something, old man," Araki said with a helpless smile. He then turned to Unohana. "Looks like we really have to go all out now—anything less would be disrespectful."

"Fight."

Unohana's single word cut through the air like her blade. The next instant, her blood sea surged toward her Zanpakutō.

Ssssshhk...

Araki inhaled slowly as he watched her movements. His irises sparked with scarlet lightning, like threads of fate unraveling in real time—flashes of possible futures flickering through his mind like a slide show.

"...Hmph!"

As he exhaled, the muscles in his sword arm bulged like coiled dragons, veins pulsing as if to roar.

Dark lightning crackled and wrapped around his blade like a storm caged in steel. The spirits hidden within the luminous glass above began to converge, roaring as they poured into him.

At that moment—

All the power in Araki's body reached perfect harmony.

And then—

He swung down.

BANG!!

The massive sword pressure—or more aptly, the flying slash—rushed forward like an avalanche, undulating like a mountain range or the jagged teeth of a chainsaw, cleaving through the blood sea that Unohana Yachiryu had summoned.

In a single blow, both the sea of blood and Unohana's intricate sword techniques were utterly overwhelmed—cut down without resistance!

"What... is this!?"

Unohana's expression betrayed a rare sense of confusion.

In her eyes, Araki's sword swing lacked name, structure, or special technique. It was as though he had simply returned to the most primitive form of swordsmanship—a simple overhead slash, heavy and brutal.

But that one strike... shattered everything.

Before she could fully comprehend it, the sea of blood beneath her was already split cleanly in two, and even the flaming wall created by Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni's twin spiritual forces had been sliced apart—effortlessly!

Araki's residual sword pressure soared into the heavens, piercing the sky and dispersing the black clouds above... until it vanished into the void.

"Where are you looking?!"

A cold blade now rested lightly against Unohana's pale neck.

Araki's calm, sharp eyes met hers as he warned:

"Unohana... your opponent is me. Don't get distracted."

Those were her own words, now returned like a mirror.

Unohana exhaled slowly, her mind settling from its earlier disarray. As Araki's voice echoed, her fighting spirit surged anew—sharper, deeper than before.

"Fight!!"

Her voice cut through the air like a blade, stronger than before, a challenge drenched in bloodlust.

Even standing ankle-deep in the crimson sea, Unohana Yachiryu was divine and deadly—a being of pure elegance and pure violence. She was like a Rakshasa: hauntingly beautiful, lethally fearsome.

Araki smiled faintly. His blade vanished into afterimages—

"Shua!!"

A single flash of steel.

Blood burst like blooming roses on both their shoulders. The crimson droplets fell into the blood sea below, only to vanish—absorbed and erased by the healing energies of Unohana's sea and Araki's refracted light.

Their wounds vanished as quickly as they'd appeared.

"Hahaha..."

Laughter—mad, euphoric—echoed across the battlefield.

In this moment, neither Araki nor Unohana noticed the clouds above, the blood below, or even Yamamoto Genryusai, who sat like an unmoving statue in the distance.

All that remained was the other.

Blade against blade. Madness against madness. A dance of death within fire and blood.

"Heh~"

Yamamoto's eyes narrowed. A grim smile appeared on his weathered face.

He had not sealed the rift Araki had torn through his flames. Let it remain open. Let the world see—

For this was no mere duel.

It was the clash of beasts.

And beasts attract jackals.

But Yamamoto would be the one to bear witness—to measure the sword of his disciple with his own eyes. And when that moment came, he would instill fear anew.

From this day forward, the villains of Soul Society would not only fear Ryūjin Jakka—

—they would fear Araki, too.