Pain.
That was the first thing Ethan registered.
Pain in his ribs from rolling across the floor.
Pain in his arms from blocking.
Pain in his soul from Unohana's spiritual pressure pinning him like an insect under glass.
She watched him from across the training hall, blade lowered but eyes razor-sharp.
"Again."
Ethan forced himself upright.
He staggered, lungs burning. "Unohana— I can't—I'm not—"
Her blade was suddenly at his throat.
"Ethan."
She said his name like a commandment.
"I told you. When your spirit awakens… weakness becomes a choice."
He swallowed hard.
She leaned in.
"Stop choosing it."
Her blade flicked.
Blood splattered across the floor.
Ethan collapsed sideways, clutching a long gash across his shoulder.
Unohana stepped back, sheathing her sword with a disappointed sigh.
"Your spirits offer you strength, yet you cling to mediocrity."
The words stung much more than the wound.
She turned her back as if bored.
Which, for her, was far more terrifying than anger.
Ethan forced himself onto his elbows.
"…Unohana… sensei… I'm trying—"
Her reiatsu spiked and crushed him flat again.
"Trying is for children."
She didn't turn around as she spoke.
"You will either call on your spirit… or die before me."
Ethan's chest tightened.
Akahana's voice whispered faintly inside him:
"She ain't bluffing, idiot."
He grit his teeth.
"I don't know how to call you!"
Her laughter echoed.
Light, mocking, affectionate.
"Then say the damn words."
"Words?"
"Yes. My name. My command. The phrase that opens us."
Ethan exhaled hard.
Outside, Unohana raised her blade again.
"Ethan," she said sweetly, "your hesitation bores me."
She stepped toward him.
Akahana's voice rose:
"Say it."
Unohana swung.
Ethan screamed—
"燃え上がれ — AKAHANA!"
"Burn bright… AKAHANA!"
A sound like a heartbeat detonated inside his soul.
His Zanpakutō exploded with red light.
Unohana's blade struck the transformed weapon—
—sparks showered outward—
—and her eyes narrowed with genuine interest for the first time.
Ethan stood panting, Shikai blazing in his hand.
His sword had changed:
The blade now carried red lines glowing like molten cracks.
Energy pulsed from the edge like unstable static.
Small, golden flame-like bursts bloomed from every movement.
Unohana stepped back, admiring it.
"…How lovely."
She slid into a lower stance.
"Show me."
Ethan tightened his grip.
Akahana slammed energy through him like a whirlwind.
"MOVE."
Ethan vanished—
a burst of red flare marking where he'd stood—
—and reappeared behind Unohana.
He swung.
She parried effortlessly, but even she had to brace when a shockwave erupted from the collision.
Her smile widened.
Ethan attacked again.
And again.
Every strike detonated with explosive force.
The air cracked.
The floor splintered.
Ethan felt power surging through his muscles, burning, wild, intoxicating.
Akahana laughed in his head, delighted.
"THAT'S IT! Don't think—just hit her!"
Unohana deflected another explosive slash, landing lightly on her toes.
"You're faster," she murmured approvingly.
She lowered her blade.
Her spiritual pressure sharpened like a scalpel.
"But you are still predictable."
She vanished.
Ethan had no time to react.
Her blade slid cleanly across his abdomen—
—no explosion— —no burst— —just pain.
He dropped to his knees, coughing blood.
Akahana cursed.
"GET UP!"
Ethan tried.
Unohana stood above him, serene as a cloudless sky.
"Akahana's power is loud. Brutish. Unrefined."
She sheathed her sword.
"You used it like a club, not a tool."
Akahana hissed inside him:
"Say that again, you smiling demon—"
Ethan gasped, hand pressed to the bleeding wound.
Unohana crouched and tilted his chin upward.
Her voice softened.
"But you did well."
His breath caught.
She healed him with a slow, careful swipe of her palm.
"You called your spirit.
You took the first step."
A pause.
"But steps are not enough."
She stood.
"Tomorrow, we refine it."
Ethan blinked up at her.
"Refine… Akahana?"
Unohana smiled with anticipation.
"You will learn to control her explosive output.
To direct her shockwaves.
To strike where you choose instead of where she pushes you."
She turned toward the exit.
"And when you master that…"
She looked over her shoulder.
"…you will call the other one."
Ethan paled.
"…The silent one?"
Unohana's smile was gentle.
"Yes."
She left him there, trembling and drenched in sweat.
Inside his mind, Akahana clicked her tongue.
"Good work, dumbass."
"Next time, don't almost die before saying my name."
Ethan collapsed onto his back.
He could still feel Unohana's pressure lingering like frost on his skin.
"…This is only the beginning, isn't it?"
Akahana laughed softly.
"Oh, sweetheart.
You have NO idea."