BLEACH: UNOHANA RETSU IS MY WIFE

The pungent smell of blood filled the corridor of the 11th Division's barracks.

"Blood?!"

"Whose blood is it? The captain's...? Is he dead?!"

Thud!

The severed head of a Sternritter rolled across the ground like a grotesque ball.

The pupils of the remaining Quincy trembled in horror. A flash of bright silver had been all they saw—then, in the blink of an eye, their leader lay dead before them.

"How... how is this possible?! He was one of the Sternritter—the best among us!"

"How could he die so easily?!"

They couldn't believe it. A powerful Sternritter had fallen—not in a glorious battle, but in a way so abrupt it felt almost comical, even absurd.

The fallen Quincy's face still wore a bright, triumphant smile. He had just discovered the Shinigami's makeshift infirmary and, lost in his bloodthirsty glee, was about to strike—until the light claimed him.

"What happened?!"

"Why did the Sternritter die instead of the Shinigami?!"

It had all happened far too quickly. The Quincies couldn't process it—the worst-case scenario had already unfolded before their eyes.

Tick... tick... tick...

Only when the rhythmic dripping reached their ears did they finally notice her.

The woman with the gentle, motherly smile—Unohana Retsu—was no longer seated. At some point, she had risen, standing silently with her long Zanpakutō in hand. The crimson droplets falling from the bloodstained blade tapped against the floor like rain. The blood was still fresh—viscous, warm, and very real.

"N-Not good...!"

Realizing the truth, the Quincies paled. In a panic, they drew their spirit bows to fire at the woman.

Only now did they understand: their leader hadn't died from a mysterious force. He had been cut down—by her. The silver light had been the reflection off her blade, swung at such blinding speed that none had even seen it move.

Schlick!

Before they could aim, blood sprayed once more across the 11th Division's barracks.

This time, it was hands that flew into the air.

"AAAAHHH! MY HAND!!"

Screams echoed through the corridor. The Quincies couldn't even track her movements. Their wrists were severed before they could fully draw their bows. Bows, bones, and flesh fell to the ground, soaked in blood. The grotesque sight overwhelmed them with panic and pain.

"This is a hospital. Please keep quiet."

But they would feel no more pain.

Another silver flash.

This time, it wasn't limbs—it was heads.

As their heads soared into the air, their minds still clung to the illusion that they were alive. They could hear her voice, echoing around them with calm civility.

Plop~

Having dispatched the small fry, Unohana Retsu calmly flicked the blood from her blade. Then, with practiced ease, she sheathed it.

Plop. Plop. Plop...

The sound of scabbard meeting steel was accompanied by the soft collapse of lifeless bodies. Headless corpses crumpled to the floor in wet thuds. Severed heads followed, rolling into the spreading pools of blood.

"Very good~ Now that all the noisy garbage is taken care of..."

Unohana turned around, smiling sweetly.

"Don't you all agree?"

Her warm, gentle tone was almost motherly—almost.

The shinigami of the 11th Division, along with others who had just been rescued during the battle, froze in place.

"Uh…"

"Y-Yes, Captain Unohana! You're absolutely right!"

No one dared to contradict her. Though her smile now was the picture of serenity, they all knew the truth—Unohana Retsu was a living demon. The real her was the original Kenpachi, the woman who bathed in blood and smiled while doing so.

None had the courage to defy her.

"Good~ Then be sure to clean this place up, won't you?"

With that, she gracefully returned to her seat, calm and composed—as if she hadn't just painted the walls red with Quincy blood.

She sat with elegance and grace, her beauty undiminished—but the corpse beneath her throne ruined the atmosphere. As everyone beheld Unohana Retsu's current appearance, only one image came to mind:

The Rakshasa.

"Uh…"

The shinigami of the 11th Division looked at the headless Quincy sprawled lifelessly beneath Unohana. They exchanged glances, shook their heads… and then silently began the cleanup.

Fighting Quincy might not be their specialty, but when it came to mopping up blood, no one in the Soul Society was more efficient. They were more professional than the "police" in Kung Fu… because although they were technically a combat division, their true mission was singular:

Assist Captain Unohana.

And for decades, that had meant scrubbing blood from these floors.

"Let's move, people!"

Without hesitation, the 11th Division's troops retrieved their "mops," "rags," "buckets," and the strong-smelling "cleansers" specially designed to neutralize the stench of spilled blood. A full-scale cleaning operation was underway.

"Hmm?!"

Suddenly, Unohana Retsu's expression shifted.

Her face tensed, eyes narrowing sharply. The calm aura she exuded just moments before vanished in an instant. She rose from her seat, spine straight as a blade, and her snow-pale hand closed tightly around the hilt of her Zanpakutō.

Enemy attack?!

The sudden change in her demeanor startled every shinigami in the room. Even during the Quincy invasion, Captain Unohana hadn't looked this concerned. Her face—usually serene and unreadable—was now carved with tension. The ease in the room snapped like glass underfoot.

The shinigami' hands instinctively reached for their Zanpakutō. Every sense went on high alert.

"The captain is being summoned…"

"Everyone, sorry—but I'm leaving this to you!"

Without waiting for a reply, Unohana vanished from the barracks in a flash of shunpo.

"Huh?!"

"Not an enemy?!"

"So it was a summons from another captain?"

Only after seeing Unohana disappear did the shinigami exhale—but that moment of relief was short-lived.

"—Ishikawa, Tanaka, Tsuchida!"

"You three, get out on patrol. Do not let any enemy slip through, got it?!"

With Unohana gone, command fell to the division's third seat—the highest-ranking officer remaining. Calm and composed, he quickly assessed the situation and issued orders with clear authority.

Normally, there was no need for such precautions. As long as Unohana was present, no threat could touch them. She was the defense. Her presence alone had always been enough.

But now, the situation had changed.

"I obey your command!"

The named shinigami armed themselves immediately and departed without hesitation.

"Let everything go smoothly…"

The third seat watched them leave and sighed inwardly.

"Whether it's us, or Captain Unohana… or Captain Araki… or even the Captain-Commander himself—please, no more casualties."

His grip tightened.

"There have already been enough 'wounded' and 'dead' in this war."

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