Unohana? That's All Right.
The wind whistled in Shiraishi's ears. Trees blurred below like rushing waves, clouds trailing in his wake as he quietly alighted on the mountaintop.
A natural hot spring steamed here, ringed by blue-gray stones. Beneath a tree blooming with white flowers stood a strikingly beautiful woman.
The mountain breeze teased her sleeves, scattering pale petals. Sunlight gleamed on fine fabric. Her long black hair cascaded like a waterfall, strands lifting to brush the tip of her small nose.
"So beautiful…" Shiraishi murmured.
The woman had just begun to undress when she snapped her head toward him, eyes sharp. "Who's there?!"
"Wait—please don't misunderstand," Shiraishi said quickly, stepping into view with raised hands. "I didn't mean to peek. I only saw someone strike down a Gillian so effortlessly, and I was impressed. I thought I'd introduce myself."
Her suspicion eased slightly, though her gaze stayed firm. As he approached, her features grew clearer—flawless up close, lashes long, lips soft and luminous. Shiraishi's grin widened.
"My name is Shiraishi. An honor to meet you. May I ask yours?"
"Unohana Retsu," she answered gently, large almond eyes studying him. She noted his silver ponytail, odd attire, and Zanpakutō at his hip. Yet what unsettled her most was his reiatsu—she couldn't sense a trace.
How had he hidden himself so completely? Few in her long life had ever managed to slip beneath her perception. The memory stirred an old, half-buried urge—an itch to fight.
Unohana exhaled slowly, suppressing the hunger. "Are you stationed here as a Shinigami?"
Shiraishi froze. Unohana… that Unohana?! The name clicked like a death knell. He swallowed hard.
The serene healer before him was no harmless woman. She was the First Kenpachi, once the most violent killer in Soul Society, who had piled corpses like mountains.
Forcing a casual smile, he shook his head. "No, not a Shinigami. I'm just a wandering swordsman. People call me the Swift Swordsman."
Unohana's eyes narrowed, curving with faint amusement. Once, she had been known as Yachiru Unohana—the "Death Sword," master of countless forms. The title "Swordsman" always piqued her interest.
But her blade was sealed long ago. Instead, she said mildly, "If you crave combat, the 11th Division welcomes swordsmen. There, you could test yourself against Kenpachi Zaraki himself."
Shiraishi chuckled, shaking his head. "No… I value freedom too much. Central 46, noble politics… those chains don't suit me. If I stayed in Soul Society, sooner or later I'd lose my patience and become a wanted man."
"Pity," Unohana murmured. Yet her eyes lingered on him, measuring.
"Then… are you a Shinigami?" Shiraishi asked knowingly.
"No," she replied smoothly, lips curved in her practiced healer's smile. "I am only a doctor."
Unohana never revealed her true post as Fourth Division captain on her off days. Among the Rukongai, she preferred to be seen as an ordinary physician who gathered herbs and studied medicine.
"With such strength, yet you choose to heal instead of fight," Shiraishi said gravely. "A noble spirit indeed. I'm ashamed of myself in comparison."
Unohana only tilted her head, bemused. Before she could answer, a voice called from the north slope.
"Sister Unohana, we've finished gathering herbs! Let's soak in the hot springs!"
A tall figure emerged beneath the flowered tree, a basket of herbs slung over her back. She stood a head taller than Shiraishi's 165 centimeters. Purple bangs framed her face, a few thin braids draped over her shoulder, vermilion earrings swaying.
Her stern brows and commanding posture suggested a queenly severity, though in truth her heart was soft, even shy.
Spotting the unfamiliar man, she startled, instinctively moving to hide behind Unohana.
Shiraishi's eyes lit up at the contrast. He raised a hand cheerfully. "A beauty like you—may I know your name?"
"M-me?" She faltered, cheeks faintly pink. After a moment she murmured, "Kotetsu… Yūne."
Shiraishi answered with mock solemnity: "Lady Yūne, I believe you would make a wonderful wife. Please, marry me!"
"Eh?!" Yūne's eyes went wide, and she stumbled back. All her life, her height had made others overlook her as a woman. Even among her peers, she was treated more like a comrade than a bride. She had never confessed feelings, never once been proposed to.
Now, with a stranger's sudden declaration, her mind froze in chaos.
Before she could react, Unohana's hand rested on Shiraishi's shoulder. Her gaze chilled, voice calm as steel:
"As a doctor, I know many treatments for excess lust. They include castration, sheeptail herb, and the red lantern cure."
Shiraishi went pale. A cold sweat gathered as he blurted, "Please don't misunderstand! I'm no lecher. I only believe men should speak their hearts plainly. With two such beauties before me—what man wouldn't dream of making you his wives?"
"Wh-what?!" Yūne gasped, flustered beyond words. Even Captain… he wants to marry Captain too?!