The training chamber was silent except for the slow drip of blood hitting the wooden floor.
Ethan wasn't sure if it was his or the mixture of his plus whatever Unohana had reopened just to "correct his posture."
Unohana stood in front of him, serene as a winter lake, her blade held in one hand as if she were simply holding a tea ladle.
Her smile never faded.
Her spiritual pressure pressed against his bones like an extra skeleton.
"Again," she said softly.
Ethan straightened only because not straightening would have made his spine bend in ways it wasn't designed for. "Y-Yes, Captain."
"You're hesitating," Unohana said, stepping forward. "You're thinking. Stop thinking. Your body must learn fearlessness… even while terrified."
She swung.
Ethan barely managed to parry—barely. The impact rattled his palms up to his elbows and sent him sliding three meters backward before he caught himself.
Unohana tilted her head in that way she always did right before she got genuinely disappointed.
"Still hesitating."
She vanished.
Ethan only caught a fragment of motion before her blade kissed his side, slicing cleanly enough that the pain hit a moment after the blood did.
He hit the ground, breath knocked out of him.
Panel, he thought sharply, instinctively.
Keep everything normal. No fluctuations. No spikes.
The silent interface obeyed, smoothing the chaotic whirl of his reiatsu back into a stable, harmless baseline.
Unohana stepped toward him, wiping a red line of blood from her blade with the elegance of someone brushing dust off a sleeve.
"I am not trying to kill you," she said, voice calm. "If I wanted that, you would no longer be speaking."
"Good," Ethan wheezed. "Really… really good to know."
"But I am trying to unmake your bad habits. Thoroughly."
She raised a hand.
Kaidō light flared, and his wound sealed itself—not completely, just enough to stop him from passing out. She always healed him to exactly the point where it guaranteed he could keep suffering.
Ethan forced himself to his feet again.
Unohana nodded with faint approval at that.
"You are progressing," she said.
"Slowly. Painfully. Inefficiently. But you are progressing."
"…Thanks?"
"That was not praise."
She stepped toward him again, and Ethan felt his muscles go tight.
Unohana's eyes flicked to his grip.
"You're still tightening your hands when bracing for impact. Bad form. It will cost you your fingers someday."
She lunged.
Ethan moved automatically, instinctively, desperately—parrying, weaving, stepping, slicing back with an urgency driven by the memory of her cutting him open like a fruit the last time he hesitated.
Unohana's expression didn't change. She simply flowed around every attack, every defense. A tide. A storm. An inevitable force that already knew the ending of the fight.
His breathing became ragged; his legs shook.
Unohana struck again, and Ethan did something he'd never done in front of her.
He pushed with just a hint of his suppressed spiritual force.
A microscopic nudge.
Just enough to redirect a fraction of her strike.
It wasn't even real power—just instinct.
The Panel keeps it smoothed out, he told himself. No flare. No spike.
Yet Unohana paused.
It lasted less than a heartbeat, but Ethan saw it—her eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity surfacing beneath the peaceful mask.
"How interesting," she murmured.
Ethan tried—really tried—not to panic.
The pressure on the room intensified. Unohana's reiatsu pressed against his lungs until they felt like paper bags.
"Do that again."
"I don't— I don't know what I did—"
She moved.
He blocked, barely, moving on some internal reflex he didn't understand any more than she did.
"Again."
"I—"
She struck harder this time, forcing him to either replicate the action or take the hit full-force.
His body reacted before his mind, weaving that same faint, instinctive twist of reiatsu around his blade.
Unohana saw it.
She definitely saw it.
But instead of calling him out, she smiled.
A soft, terrible smile.
"You have a talent for improvisation," she said. "And for surviving. That is good. Those who survive instinctively often make the most interesting puzzles."
Ethan swallowed.
Please don't puzzle too hard. Please.
"Captain," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'm just… adapting to your training."
"Are you?" she asked, stepping close.
Her eyes were gentle. Her presence was not.
"I wonder. You react like someone who has been… holding back."
Ethan's pulse jumped—he felt it.
Felt the Panel immediately suppress the spike.
Unohana tilted her head, studying him like a rare herb specimen she might dissect for medicinal potential… or recreational curiosity.
"Show me the truth," she whispered.
Ethan's throat tightened.
But the Panel flicked a soft pulse across his vision—
[ANOMALY SUPPRESSION: ACTIVE]
[REIATSU SIGNATURE: NORMALIZED]
And Unohana stepped back.
"Hmm. Perhaps I imagined it."
She sheathed her blade.
"We will continue."
Ethan blinked. "Continue—?"
Unohana raised her hand.
Kaidō light wrapped around her fingers.
And she healed him again—just enough.
When she spoke next, her tone was peaceful enough to freeze blood.
"We are moving on to the next phase."
"…which is?"
"Endurance," she said lightly. "You will hold your stance against my attacks for one hour."
Ethan stared at her.
"You'll kill me."
"Yes," she said cheerfully, "but I will bring you back. Repeatedly."
He swallowed.
Unohana smiled, serene and bright.
"Begin."
And hell resumed.