After saying those teasing words, Unohana vanished from her spot.
In the next instant, she appeared behind Maki, her Zanpakutō already descending toward his exposed back.
But before her blade could reach him—
DAaaaaaaaaaaang—
Her sword collided with something.
Unohana's eyes narrowed. From Maki's back, a serpent-like creature had suddenly emerged. It was made of wood, yet it moved like a real snake, its body still connected to his back.
The wooden serpent bit down on the katana's blade, holding it firmly in place.
Unohana raised an eyebrow. The serpent wasn't simple. It was tough.
She stepped back slightly and observed it more closely. The wooden snake moved as if it were truly alive, even hissing at her.
Then she heard Maki's deep voice.
"Oh, honey, I forgot to tell you. This thing is called Venom, and it really consumes a lot of energy—I mean, chakra. Cool, right?"
Unohana chuckled softly. Then she vanished again.
Swoooooosh—
She reappeared and stabbed toward Maki's left waist.
This time, Maki couldn't react fast enough. Her katana pierced through his skin.
But he didn't let it go deeper.
Using Santa Teresa, he brought the weapon down toward her. It looked like a casual swing, yet Unohana felt the overwhelming pressure behind it.
With a swift movement, she disappeared.
Santa Teresa slammed into the ground.
BOoooooooOoOooOoom—
The casual swing crushed the earth, leaving behind a massive, deep crater.
Unohana stared at the destruction. She knew he was an amateur, but how could he release such power from a simple swing?
Then she asked, "What about this time?"
"What do you mean?" Maki replied.
"The difference in strength," Unohana said.
"Oh—you noticed? Well, this is a secret just between us, okay?"
He smiled faintly.
"I can make things grow stronger. But don't tell the others."
Unohana grew serious.
"Strengthen things?"
"Wait… is he blind? Can he even see that we're here?" Soi Fon asked.
"What did he mean by that?" Isane added.
"Fung is right. Is he blind or something?" Nejire said, placing her index finger on her chin in thought.
Konan spoke quietly. "I didn't feel any chakra when he swung his sword."
Black Maria and Monet said nothing. They remained silent. If what they felt was real, then this man wasn't normal… he wasn't human.
Gion had also noticed something. Her hand was trembling as she tried to light another cigarette.
Samui and Yoruichi caught the abnormal reactions immediately, and their eyes widened at the same conclusion forming in their minds.
Just what is going on with this man?
They continued staring at him, standing there, staggering slightly.
Unohana didn't waste time. She continued attacking from every angle, searching for an opening.
But with the wooden serpent guarding his back, it was like fighting two people with one mind. She couldn't break the wooden defense.
When she attacked him directly, he allowed her blade to slice and pierce him, yet his wounds healed instantly.
And whenever she approached, he would casually swing his sword down.
Each time it struck the ground, the battlefield trembled. Massive craters formed, tearing apart the terrain.
She realized something else.
The strength of his swings was increasing each time, as if he were adding more power with every strike.
She saw no opening.
It wasn't a matter of experience or skill.
It was simply a bad match.
He could heal himself. He could strike back. His back was guarded.
He had perfect balance.
Unohana had no choice.
She would use her Bankai.
This time, she truly intended to destroy this seemingly impenetrable man.
She stepped back, creating distance between them.
"You're really my match," she said coldly. "And it's annoying. Every time I cut you, you regenerate as if nothing happened. But I'm done playing with you. I'm going to end this. If you don't use the strength you used before to destroy this place, then you will die here."
Her voice was low. Her eyes were cold.
Maki heard her words.
For the first time during their fight, his senses slowly began returning to him.
Hearing her voice—the ease with which she spoke of life and death—made frustration stir within him.
He remembered punching through the ground of this chamber.
He had felt joy. Excitement.
His punch , opened a massive sinkhole. He had even applied Moa Moa 100x speed during his fall.
When his adrenaline finally settled, he stopped.
Then he laughed at the absurdity of what he had just done.
He lay at the bottom of the sinkhole, laughing.
After releasing his stress, he sat up.
From his inventory, he materialized a bottle of Old Rip Van Winkle 25-Year. It came with a wine glass. Nemuri had prohibited him from drinking, which was why he had kept it stored away.
Using his wood ability, he removed the cork.
He shook the bottle slightly, raised it in the very hole he had created, and muttered to himself, "For the catch."
Then he drank, savoring the wheated sweetness. It tasted of caramel, molasses, dark chocolate, figs, raisins, and dried cherries.
Soon, he heard footsteps behind him.
Still looking upward, he smelled lobster lingering in the ground and thought it was the cat.
But the steps grew closer.
It was human.
They spoke for a while. When he finally turned his head, he saw a beautiful, tanned, naked woman.
He quickly looked away and restored the wine. He didn't want it wasted.
He searched his inventory for clothes she could wear.
But the woman moved closer and hugged him.
Heat spread through his body.
Maki didn't realize that he wasn't just a lightweight drinker, as his old friends used to call him.
In his arms, he saw her as Nemuri.
He didn't hesitate.
He bit her everywhere, slowly falling asleep while biting her shoulder and holding her tightly.
When his senses returned—
It was at the exact moment Unohana delivered her final attack toward his head.
Of course, he defended it with Santa Teresa.
Then he heard her voice.
It was no longer teasing.
It was cold.
Empty.
Almost despairing.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
[ In the world of commercial and local fishing, there is a long-standing "salty" culture surrounding alcohol. Whether it's a celebratory toast for a massive haul or a way to kill time during a slow "soak," the relationship between a fisherman and a bottle is often more complex than just a casual drink. Fishing is high-stress, physically demanding work. Drinking "for the catch" often acts as a psychological milestone—marking the end of the labor and the start of the profit.It's a common belief that a shot of whiskey warms you up on a cold deck. In reality, alcohol is a vasodilator. It brings blood to the surface of the skin, making you feel warm while actually causing your core body temperature to drop faster—a major risk for hypothermia if they fall overboard.]