The moonlight was clear and silver, flowing like water across the quiet night.
Even though it was already deep into the night, the Fourth Division—the busiest logistics unit—was still full of movement. People hurried back and forth along the division's streets, their shadows stretching under the moon. Among them were injured patients wrapped in layers of bandages, shuffling along like mummies.
Because of that, Kisaragi Akira's presence didn't stand out at all.
Not until he stepped beyond the main buildings, heading into the restricted back-mountain area behind the General Recovery Ward, and entered—
A simple, almost austere dojo.
The moment he crossed the threshold, countless eyes turned toward the entrance of the dojo, as if waiting for the next unfortunate soul to be thrown out.
There was an unwritten rule within the General Recovery Ward:
No one is allowed inside the isolated dojo behind the mountain.
There were no signs posted, no warnings written—but everyone knew the result.Anyone who entered would be flung back out in the shortest time possible, usually in the most disgraceful state imaginable.
No exceptions.
But now, after a moment of stunned silence, everyone collectively sucked in a sharp breath.
—Hsssss.
What the hell—!? The Captain didn't throw that kid out!?
Inside the plain wooden dojo, a woman in white sat quietly on the spotless floor. Her long braid fell across her shoulder, rising and falling with her calm breathing. A bokken rested across her knees. The serene image contrasted sharply with the atmosphere she radiated.
This wasn't the usual gentle Unohana.Tonight, there was an unmistakable sharpness about her—like a blade unsheathed.
Seeing her like this made Akira instinctively want to turn around and leave.
After what he'd experienced before, he knew exactly how terrifying this beautiful woman truly was.
During sword practice, his danger instincts screamed like an overheated kettle ready to explode—shrill alarms going off nonstop, with no sign of stopping.
Which meant one thing: Unohana Retsu could literally kill him at any moment.
If it weren't for how irresistible the allure of the "Deathblade Style" was, he would never risk sneaking into the dojo in the dead of night…
Wait. Hold on…
Does this count as… a moonlit rendezvous?
Taking in the scenery around him, an extremely dangerous thought popped into Akira's head.
"Kisaragi-kun," Unohana said softly, her voice drifting through the quiet like a cold blossom falling."My intuition tells me your current thoughts are… quite inappropriate."
"A senior once told me something," Akira said, straightening his expression with sudden resolve.'When the moon is at its most beautiful, anyone who doesn't know how to appreciate it is someone without the slightest sense of romance.'"
Unohana fell silent.
For a moment, she genuinely didn't know how to evaluate the boy in front of her.
You couldn't exactly call him diligent—yet he'd arrived right on time for their session.
You couldn't call him lazy—yet he constantly rejected the idea of joining the Fourth Division.
You couldn't call him fearless—he didn't dare approach her when she released her killing intent, reacting as if he could predict her next step.
But calling him timid was also wrong—because he never managed to suppress his… less-than-pure instincts.
He was truly a contradiction wrapped in contradictions.
"…Captain Unohana, where do we start tonight?" Akira raised his hand casually."I've already fully mastered both Cloud-Piercer and Wave-Reversal."
"If—"
Before he could finish, Unohana picked up the bokken from her knees and tossed it to him.
"Demonstrate."
Akira blinked, then grinned. "Alright then. Watch closely!"
Even though his injuries hadn't fully healed yet, as long as he didn't use spiritual pressure, performing sword techniques wasn't an issue.
The bokken sliced through the air as Akira's movements shifted from sluggish to agile.
He moved like a bird soaring freely through the sky, blending with the air around him. In the span of a few steps, he demonstrated the two Deathblade Style forms with flawless precision—then went further, incorporating his own newfound understanding and transforming them into something uniquely his.
Swift as the wind.
As she watched him move, Unohana's eyes grew brighter and brighter, as though she had discovered a once-in-a-millennium treasure.
She had visited the dojos of every sword style in the Soul Society a thousand years ago, witnessing countless self-proclaimed prodigies—Those with remarkable instincts, those born with monstrous spiritual pressure, and those unnervingly attuned to the sword.
But she had never met anyone like Kisaragi Akira.
Someone who could perfectly recreate techniques from mere experience—And then evolve them into something new, shaped by his own intuitions.
Such talent surpassed hers by a wide margin.
"…Again," Unohana said, her gentle voice carrying an unmistakable force that allowed no refusal.
Akira scratched his head in confusion, but seeing her determined expression, he could only obey and perform the sequence again.
What he didn't know was this:
For someone like Unohana—who lived for combat and swordsmanship—watching perfect technique was as intoxicating as the most beautiful art.Immersing herself in each movement, imagining the edge of a blade sinking into her heart—it was a sensation impossible to express in mere words.
After the third repetition—
Her gaze toward Akira changed once more.
Serene. Quiet. Peaceful.
Akira frowned a little at the sight.
Why does she look like she just entered "wise sage mode"…?
"I have a clear grasp of your current level," Unohana said, choosing not to acknowledge the boy's overly bold stare. After this many sessions, she was slowly becoming accustomed to it.
Oddly enough… it wasn't unpleasant.
"Deathblade Style is a sword discipline I created long ago," she continued seriously."I traveled through every style in the Soul Society, exchanging sword philosophies with them and refining my own understanding. After my first great failure, I created the Deathblade Style."
Teaching him was neither difficult nor slow—In fact, with Akira's outrageous talent, the process felt almost effortless.
If anything…
Unohana's own demonstrations were dangerously captivating.
Her captain's haori couldn't conceal her figure at all.And when she gathered her killing intent and focused solely on performing sword techniques—
Goddamn, what a view, Lady Unohana!
Akira gave a silent thumbs-up in his heart.
Only then did he realize a problem.
Captain Unohana was genuinely teaching him swordsmanship.And he was eagerly learning from her.
Strictly speaking, they had already formed a master-disciple relationship… just without the formalities.
Meaning—
Wait. Did I just become… the rebellious disciple who dares flirt with his own master!?
By the time the midnight training session ended, Akira slipped quietly back into his hospital room.
He tiptoed across the floor, carefully climbed into his bed—And the moment he turned his head—
A pair of bright eyes gleamed at him in the moonlight.
Thanks to the full moon, he could clearly see the dark circles under Kuchiki Sōjun's eyes.
"…This might be rude to ask," she murmured, cheeks tinged with embarrassment as their eyes met.
"But I really am curious…"
"At this hour… did Captain Unohana really only teach you swordsmanship?"