The training hall of the Fourth Division was quiet enough that Ethan could hear his own heartbeat as he stepped inside.
Not the polite, clinical silence he was used to — the one filled with healers gliding like ghosts through white corridors.
No. This was something sharper.
A silence with teeth.
Captain Unohana stood at the center of the room, blade sheathed, posture relaxed… which, for her, was the most terrifying thing imaginable.
"Ethan," she said warmly. "You're late."
"I'm early."
Her smile widened just slightly.
"Then you are very late."
He swallowed.
The Panel pinged silently in the corner of his vision, reacting to the spike in fear.
[Emotional Surge Detected: Controlled Fear]
[Spirit Combat Efficiency +2% (temporary)]
Thanks, I guess? he thought.
Unohana walked toward him with that gentle, killer's grace that belonged to someone who had once painted the world red.
"Today," she said softly, "you will no longer rely on reflexes or tricks. You will draw power from your Zanpakutō spirit."
Ethan didn't move. "Captain… you already know it hasn't answered me yet."
"Yes," she said, stepping close enough that he felt her breath. "And that is the problem."
She slipped past him, almost brushing his sleeve.
"You are hiding from it."
"I—"
He stopped.
Unohana was watching him with eyes too ancient to lie to.
"You fear what your blade demands. Fear is natural." She turned her back on him. "But refusing to face your own spirit is not."
As if responding, his Zanpakutō — still nameless — vibrated softly in its sheath.
Unohana gestured to the far wall. "Stand there."
Ethan obeyed.
She drew her sword.
Not the soothing healer's blade.
Not the quiet elegance.
This was Yachiru Unohana, the first Kenpachi, with death sitting obediently behind her eyes.
Ethan had never seen a captain draw a blade while smiling in such a gentle, motherly way.
It made it worse.
"Captain…" he said slowly. "You aren't planning to—"
"To push you until your spirit has no choice but to answer?" Her tone was pure kindness. "Of course."
Ah.
Right.
Death it is today.
Ethan took a breath. The Panel flickered again.
[Warning: Combat Threat Lethal]
[Recommended Action: RUN]
He mentally swatted it away.
Running from Unohana would only make her chase him.
She raised her sword—
Then vanished.
His eyes barely registered the movement before—
CLANG
Her blade locked with his.
He hadn't even consciously drawn.
She smiled.
"Better."
He stumbled back.
Unohana pressed forward lazily, like she was playing with a child.
"You rely on instinct," she continued conversationally. "Useful. But incomplete."
Her blade nudged his guard aside like brushing dust from a table—
He ducked as steel cut the air above his ear.
[Pain Avoidance +4xp]
"Captain—!" Ethan twisted and brought his sword up, catching another strike that would have split him along the shoulder.
"To use a Zanpakutō," she murmured, "you must accept the spirit that lives within it."
She stepped closer.
"And you are refusing that acceptance."
Her blade flickered.
The next hit didn't aim to cut.
It aimed to kill.
Ethan blocked — barely — and the force sent him crashing backward across the floor.
He slid, boots skidding, breath knocked out of him.
His sword…
It trembled.
Like something inside was stirring uneasily.
Unohana didn't give him a second to breathe.
She was on him again, blade descending in a slow, graceful arc — the kind that only a monster disguised as a saint could make.
Ethan rolled aside as the strike cracked the stone.
"Your spirit is watching," she said, tilting her head. "You know that, yes?"
He tightened his grip. "I… feel something."
"Good. Then this next part should work."
"Next part?"
Unohana smiled.
"I will crush you until you have no choice but to call to it."
"WAIT—"
She flicked her wrist.
Blood sprayed.
Ethan looked down — she had opened a shallow line across his chest.
Not deep enough to kill.
But enough to burn.
And enough, he realized, for his Zanpakutō to react.
It pulsed again.
A slow throb.
Like someone knocking from inside the metal.
Unohana watched him closely.
"Feel that?"
"I… yeah."
"Then let us accelerate."
Oh god.
Unohana blurred forward.
The world shrank to steel and footwork and the faint scent of healing herbs that clung to her robes — an ironic detail given she was trying to murder him gently.
Ethan blocked.
Parried.
Dodged.
Fell.
Got back up.
His sword clashed against hers again and again until his arms shook with exhaustion.
Unohana was barely breathing.
"You are waiting," she said softly, "for your spirit to save you."
Ethan gritted his teeth and stepped back.
"Isn't that the point?"
"No." Her voice sharpened. "You must reach out first."
She swung.
Ethan blocked — but the force sent vibrations up his arms, rattling bone.
CRACK.
There it was again.
That thing inside his blade.
Knocking.
Calling.
Waiting.
His vision blurred as Unohana's next strike came for his throat —
He ducked, legs nearly giving out.
Unohana's blade traced his cheek, drawing a single bead of blood.
"That should be enough."
"For what?" Ethan gasped.
"To break the seal you've placed on yourself."
"I didn't place anything!"
"You lied to yourself," she said calmly. "That is also a seal."
He froze.
She smiled sweetly.
"Shatter it."
And she struck with intent to kill.
The killing blow descended.
Ethan didn't think — he reacted.
The Panel flared like a sunburst.
[Emergency Protocol Triggered]
[Spirit Synchronization Hint Unlocked]
→ "Reach inward, not outward."
His body moved before his brain caught up.
He raised his sword, but instead of blocking, he closed his eyes.
Unohana's blade met his.
CLANG—CRACK
A sound like splitting ice echoed through the hall.
Unohana's expression changed — just slightly.
"Ah," she murmured. "Finally."
Ethan could feel it.
A rush of something ancient.
Something coiled.
Something that had been pacing behind a locked gate waiting for him to open it.
A whisper — not in words, but in intent — brushed the edge of his mind.
You called.
Ethan staggered as heat coursed down his arm and into the sword.
Not external heat — more like adrenaline flavored with lightning and instinct.
"So you've decided to show?" he whispered.
Unohana stepped back a fraction, eyes bright with the delight only a warrior understood.
"Good. Now," she said, "fight me properly."
Her blade blurred toward him.
This time — Ethan moved with something more than instinct.
His sword flashed up—
clean, fast, precise.
The impact didn't throw him backward.
It stabilized him.
Unohana's eyebrows lifted a hair.
"Better."
Ethan stepped forward, body guided by a rhythm that wasn't entirely his.
A flow.
A pulse.
A controlled savagery that felt both foreign and familiar.
Unohana struck again.
He redirected instead of blocking.
Her sword slid past him harmlessly—
She smiled. "A counter?"
"I think so."
"You should trust that feeling."
She didn't wait.
Unohana used footwork so smooth it might as well have been teleportation.
She slid behind him and aimed a cut at his spine—
Ethan's sword snapped up behind him without looking.
CLANG
The metal vibrated with a resonance that wasn't just steel.
It felt alive.
Unohana stepped back.
"Oh," she whispered. "Your spirit is quite assertive."
Ethan wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a terrifying one.
The whisper pulsed again.
Fight. Use me.
Unohana tilted her head. "You're hesitating."
"I don't know what it wants."
"Then ask."
"How—"
She lunged.
Ethan's body reacted again, faster, sharper, with a bit of something like instinct layered with predatory intent.
His blade slashed out in a curved arc — not something he'd ever practiced.
Unohana twisted aside elegantly, though a few strands of her hair drifted to the floor.
Her smile sharpened.
"A cut," she said softly. "How refreshing."
Ethan blinked. "Did I… do that?"
"You," Unohana corrected, "allowed it to happen. But you are still holding back."
She raised her sword for a vertical strike.
Ethan felt the spirit inside his blade stir angrily.
Stop hesitating.
Unohana struck—
Ethan pivoted, sword slicing across her path, guided by an instinct that wasn't fully his.
A shockwave burst outward.
Not a flashy one — but sharp enough that cracks spiderwebbed across the floor.
Unohana's feet slid back a few inches.
She looked down.
Then up.
For the first time… she looked genuinely intrigued.
"My, my…"
Ethan exhaled shakily. "Are we done?"
Unohana sheathed her sword.
"Not even close."
She stepped forward and placed a hand on his blade — on the flat metal near the guard.
Warm reiatsu flowed into the sword, not forcefully, but like pouring water into an empty bowl.
"Your spirit is awake," she said softly. "But now you must define your connection."
The Panel pulsed:
[New Sub-Quest Unlocked]
"Name the Spirit Within"
Reward: +20% Zanpakutō Efficiency | New Skill Slot
Ethan blinked. "Now?!"
Unohana nodded, her voice gentle but commanding.
"You will speak to it."
"But it didn't exactly give me a name."
"That," she said, "is what this exercise is for."
She turned and walked back to the center of the room.
"Ethan. Draw out its presence."
"How?"
Unohana gave him a calm, serene, utterly murderous smile.
"Survive while I force it out."
"…Oh."
"Oh," she echoed pleasantly.
She drew her sword once more.
"And this time, it will not be gentle."
---
Unohana moved.
Not fast.
Not explosive.
Just… inevitable.
Ethan raised his sword—and the spirit surged forward like it had been waiting for this exact moment.
A burst of pressure jolted outward from his blade.
Steel met steel and sparks scattered across the training hall.
Unohana pressed in, her smile soft and deeply unsettling.
"Good. Push it further."
Ethan grit his teeth. "It's not giving me anything clear!"
"That means you are not listening properly."
Unohana twisted, striking his side—
Ethan blocked, guided again by that instinct.
He felt something.
A whisper.
A shape.
A presence.
Wild.
Patient.
Coiled like a blade inside a sheath too small for it.
Unohana spoke even as she attacked with surgical precision.
"A Zanpakutō spirit is not a teacher. It will not sit down and explain itself. It will show you only through struggle."
She slid around him, her blade arcing toward his ribs.
Ethan deflected—
But too slowly.
Steel grazed his side, opening a shallow cut.
"Pain will help," Unohana said, voice warm like a mother encouraging a child. "Use it."
Ethan's sword pulsed violently.
Let me out.
Ethan froze.
Unohana's eyes brightened. "Ah. There it is."
Her blade shot toward him like a needle aimed at the heart.
Ethan swung—
And his blade erupted in a sudden flare of dark, rippling reiatsu.
Not an explosion.
Not a fire.
More like a shifting distortion in the air, like the sword didn't fully obey physical space.
Unohana parried—
But the shock still pushed her back half a step.
She exhaled.
"A fascinating spirit indeed."
Ethan breathed hard, sweat dripping down his neck.
"What… what is it?"
Unohana smiled.
"Only you can answer that."
"You're not going to tell me?"
"Of course not," she said sweetly. "That would deprive you of the growth earned through blood and fear."
Ethan opened his mouth.
Unohana vanished.
Her blade touched the base of his throat.
Ethan froze.
Unohana's voice was soft enough to melt iron.
"And your spirit does not like when you hesitate at the brink of death."
The whisper hissed through him:
Fight. Not flee. Fight.
His hand moved without command.
Steel clashed.
Unohana stepped back with a pleased little hum.
"Good. Again."
Ethan struck.
The spirit guided.
The training hall filled with the matched tempo of death and instinct dancing until the air vibrated.
Unohana's blade moved with elegance —
Ethan's moved with awakening.
Minutes blurred into something feverish, a rhythm of impact and breath and the whispering pulse of the spirit pressing at the edges of his perception.
Then—
Unohana stopped.
Not winded.
Not strained.
Just… satisfied.
She sheathed her sword fully.
"That is enough for today."
Ethan leaned on his blade, panting, bruised, bleeding lightly from several places.
"That… was… insane."
Unohana nodded. "Growth always is."
She stepped closer, taking his wrist gently, inspecting the shallow cut on his arm.
"Healing will be simple," she murmured. "But tell me… did you hear its voice?"
Ethan hesitated.
Not because he doubted.
But because the spirit's presence was still there, breathing with him, coiled under his skin, waiting.
"…Yes."
"And?"
"I didn't get a name," he said honestly. "But I felt its intent."
Unohana's eyes softened in a way only she could manage — serene, tender, and containing the faint glint of someone who enjoyed watching you nearly die.
"Good. You have begun the most important step."
She turned toward the door.
"Tomorrow, we continue."
Ethan blinked. "…Can I have a day to breathe?"
"No."
She smiled.
"It will grow impatient if we let it rest."
His blade trembled in agreement.
Ethan groaned.
Unohana folded her hands.
"Get cleaned up, Ethan. Your spirit is awake now… and it won't tolerate you ignoring it."
He exhaled, exhaustion settling into his bones.
But also—
A spark.
A pulse.
A presence in the sword that wasn't silent anymore.
The beginning of something dangerous.
Something powerful.
Something his.