Chapter 109: First Generation Kenpachi, Unohana Yachiryu
Looking into Unohana Retsu's transformed eyes, Fiander felt genuine surprise course through him for the first time in centuries. The fact that she had managed to regain consciousness after being frozen to the point where all bodily functions should have ceased was nothing short of miraculous—or perhaps something far more sinister.
The temperature surrounding them had plummeted well below minus 273.15 degrees Celsius, the theoretical absolute zero that represented the complete absence of thermal energy. At such temperatures, the very atoms that comprised living tissue should have stopped moving entirely, rendering any form of biological activity impossible. By all known laws of physics and spiritual science, every living being in the area should have been reduced to little more than perfectly preserved corpses.
Yet here stood Unohana Retsu, not only conscious but radiating a presence that made even Fiander's supernatural cold seem secondary by comparison.
"As expected of you, Yachiryu," Fiander murmured, turning to face her fully as understanding dawned in his ancient eyes.
"Shut up..." Unohana's voice emerged as barely more than a whisper, her lips already blue with frostbite, yet carrying an authority that could have silenced armies. "You are... not permitted... to call me by that name..."
Her hand moved with agonizing slowness toward the Zanpakutō at her waist, each inch of progress a monumental effort against the supernatural cold that held her body in its grip. The moment her fingers made contact with the weapon's hilt, everything changed.
A wave of pure, concentrated killing intent erupted from her form like a physical force, so potent that it manifested as visible darkness spreading across her body. The gentle, nurturing eyes that had comforted countless injured souls throughout her centuries of service vanished entirely, replaced by something that belonged in nightmares.
Her pupils dilated until they appeared completely white, devoid of any recognizable human emotion. The transformation was so complete, so fundamentally alien, that she seemed to become an entirely different entity. This was no longer Unohana Retsu, the beloved Captain of the Fourth Division—this was something far older and infinitely more dangerous.
The murderous aura radiating from her form began to actively combat Fiander's supernatural chill. Where absolute zero should have rendered all motion impossible, her killing intent served as a source of energy that transcended normal biological limitations. She had essentially transformed herself into something that existed beyond the conventional definitions of life and death.
"Such terrifying killing intent," Fiander observed with growing excitement, his earlier boredom completely forgotten. "When compared to this raw, primal bloodlust, even Zaraki Kenpachi appears to be nothing more than an enthusiastic amateur."
His voice carried notes of genuine respect as he continued his analysis. "This is precisely what I would expect from the captain of the original Eleventh Division, one of the founding members who stood beside Yamamoto Shigekuni during the establishment of Gotei 13."
A predatory smile spread across his features as he spoke the name that had been buried beneath centuries of careful reconstruction: "The most feared criminal in the entire history of Soul Society—Unohana Yachiryu!"
The moment her true name left his lips, the air between them became charged with such concentrated violence that reality itself seemed to recoil. The collision of her killing intent with his supernatural cold created a zone of absolute lethality—any lesser being unfortunate enough to venture near their position would die instantly, their life force snuffed out by forces beyond mortal comprehension.
"Since you have chosen to reveal your true nature," Fiander continued, his own demeanor shifting to match the gravity of the situation, "then allow me to properly 'taste' the swordsmanship that once brought Soul Society to its knees!"
His form dissolved into a cloud of crystalline ice mist that dispersed across the battlefield before instantly reconstituting directly behind Unohana. The ice blade in his hand had already completed its thrust, piercing completely through her chest in what should have been a killing blow.
But there was something wrong with the sensation. Rather than the resistance he expected from living flesh and bone, his weapon encountered something that felt more like dead wood—soft, yielding, and completely devoid of the vital energy that characterized living beings.
Their eyes met across the short distance separating them, and in that moment of contact, Fiander felt rather than saw the movement that opened a deep gash across his throat. Blood sprayed across Unohana's emotionless face, yet she showed no reaction whatsoever to the crimson baptism.
Completely ignoring the blade that had impaled her, she raised her Zanpakutō for a second strike with mechanical precision. The complete absence of self-preservation instinct in her movements was more unsettling than any display of pain or fear could have been.
Recognizing the danger of remaining in close quarters with an opponent who felt no pain and showed no concern for her own survival, Fiander immediately dissolved back into ice mist. He reappeared nearly fifty meters away, one hand pressed against the wound on his throat as he studied her with newfound wariness.
"Those eyes..." he murmured, his voice carrying notes of recognition that reached back through millennia. "That same look of absolute contempt, as if all life beyond your immediate purpose is nothing more than insects to be crushed underfoot."
The wound beneath his fingers had already begun to heal, but the memory of how easily she had landed the blow remained fresh. "Hehehehe... Jilianka and Karius—names I have not recalled for countless centuries. How nostalgic."
As his neck wound sealed completely, leaving unmarked skin in its place, Fiander's entire demeanor underwent a fundamental transformation. The casual, almost playful attitude he had maintained throughout their encounter vanished entirely, replaced by something that made the air itself seem to grow heavier.
"For you," he said, his voice now carrying the weight of absolute seriousness, "I believe I should demonstrate the respect that your reputation demands. Otherwise, I would be doing a disservice to the injuries you have already managed to inflict upon me."
His eyes, which had held traces of amusement even during the most intense moments of combat, now reflected something that made looking at him feel like staring into an open grave. The transformation was so complete that merely meeting his gaze gave the impression of already being dead.
"Wither, Mist."
The release command rolled off his tongue, and immediately the wind and snow that had been held in supernatural stasis began moving again. But this was not the gentle precipitation they had witnessed before—this was weather as a weapon, each flake and gust carrying death in its wake.
The howling wind that swept across Unohana's position carried edges sharper than any blade. Where it touched her exposed skin, deep lacerations appeared instantly, though no blood flowed from the wounds. Her body had moved so far beyond normal biological function that even severe injuries produced no visible signs of damage beyond the cuts themselves.
With mechanical efficiency, she grasped the ice blade that still protruded from her chest and withdrew it, tossing the weapon aside as if it were nothing more than an inconvenience. The hole in her torso remained perfectly circular, like a window carved through her body, yet she showed no acknowledgment of its existence.
Gripping her Zanpakutō with both hands, she seemed to embody the very concept of death given human form—a born killer who had temporarily shed all pretense of humanity.
"Whoosh!"
Another wind blade sliced through the air toward her position, and she raised her weapon to deflect it with movements that seemed to operate purely on combat instinct. But the moment her guard shifted to address the single attack, dozens more materialized around her from every conceivable angle.
The cold light of her blade became a blur of motion as she spun and weaved through the deadly barrage, her form moving with the lethal grace of a master swordsman whose skills had been honed through centuries of constant warfare. Each deflection was perfect, each counterattack precisely calculated to maximum efficiency.
From within the whirlwind of steel and killing intent, a massive surge of sword energy erupted outward, carving through the layers of wind and snow to strike directly at Fiander's position with enough force to level mountains.
"Torrent Burial!"
Fiander's response was immediate and devastating. His five fingers came together in a precise gesture, and Unohana's sword energy was instantly frozen into a crystalline flower that hung suspended in the air, its deadly force trapped within ice that defied every natural law.
Raising his reformed ice blade toward her from nearly a hundred meters away, Fiander's voice carried across the battlefield with the finality of a death sentence: "Wind Snow Glutton!"
Countless fragments of bone-piercing cold began gathering around his weapon in streams visible to the naked eye, creating a vortex of accumulated winter that seemed to draw warmth from the very concept of existence. Within moments, the concentrated cold erupted outward as millions of snowflakes, each one carrying the cutting power of a master-forged blade.
Even with her supernatural reflexes and combat instincts, the sheer volume of the attack made evasion impossible. The restricted space of the battlefield meant that no matter how skillfully she moved, some of the deadly precipitation would find its mark.
Her captain's haori disintegrated under the assault, followed quickly by her outer uniform, leaving her in tattered undergarments that provided no protection against the continuing barrage. Countless small wounds appeared across her exposed skin, each one deep enough to be fatal under normal circumstances.
"Go."
The single word carried the weight of an avalanche as Fiander hurled his ice blade toward her position. But this was no simple projectile—as it flew through the air, it gathered the surrounding storm unto itself, transforming into a tornado over one hundred meters in diameter.
The massive vortex roared across the battlefield with the force of a natural disaster, carrying within its winds enough razor-sharp ice to reduce mountains to powder.
BOOM!
Facing this manifestation of nature's fury, Unohana placed her palm against the flat of her Zanpakutō's blade and slowly drew it along the steel edge. Though her blood froze the instant it was exposed to the supernatural cold, it continued to flow in defiance of physics, and for a brief moment, her spiritual pressure flared to levels that could compete directly with Fiander's Bankai.
After dozens of exchanges that blurred the line between swordplay and natural disaster, Unohana finally spoke her first coherent words since her transformation: "Bankai! Minazuki!"
The release command reverberated through the ice and snow with authority that seemed to reach into the fundamental structure of reality itself. Around them, the frozen landscape became filled with spectral figures wielding long swords, each one radiating the same killing intent as their master as they charged toward Fiander's position.
"Bankai?" Fiander's eyes blazed with fierce satisfaction as he brought both palms down in a devastating gesture.
The massive tornado, now filled with enough blade-sharp ice fragments to destroy entire districts, tore through Unohana's position with unstoppable force. From his elevated position above the battlefield, Fiander clearly observed her body being torn apart by the natural disaster made manifest, her form reduced to scattered fragments that showed no trace of blood.
BOOM!
When the devastation finally settled, the landscape had been transformed into a crater hundreds of meters across, the ice-covered ground carved away as if by the hand of some wrathful god. Nothing remained that could be recognized as having once been human.
Then, from the depths of the enormous pit, a single drop of blood seeped upward through the frozen earth. Within seconds, that single drop became a stream, then a river, until the entire crater had been transformed into a lake of crimson that defied the supernatural cold surrounding it.
From the center of this bloody lake, a figure began to emerge. The woman who rose from the depths had long black hair that clung to her pale skin like seaweed, and her black uniform had been replaced by something that seemed woven from shadow itself. Brownish blood flowed down her body like water, giving her the appearance of a ghost that had climbed up from the deepest pits of hell.
Even demons would have fled in terror from the presence that now stood before them.
"Crack!"
The moment Unohana's resurrection was complete, the lake of blood beneath her feet instantly froze solid, trapped by the extreme cold that still dominated their battlefield. But she showed no more concern for this development than she had for any of her previous injuries.
Witnessing this impossible return from complete destruction, Fiander's expression underwent one final transformation. His features split into a grin of pure, childlike delight, his eyes shining with the kind of joy that only came from encountering something truly unprecedented.
"Hahahahahaha!" His laughter echoed across the frozen wasteland with manic intensity, the sound carrying notes of excitement that bordered on madness.
"Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent!" he exclaimed, his voice rising to match his euphoria. "This is exactly what I had hoped to find!"
His eyes now blazed with an intensity that matched her own killing intent, though his carried anticipation rather than bloodlust. "Second round—begin!"
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