章 134: Chapter 135: The Sole Way for Victory
Within the domain of Minazuki
Makoto had long lost count of how many times Unohana had pierced his throat—each time in the same posture, the same position, and at the same angle.
She was too strong!
But Unohana's strength wasn't like the current captains of the Gotei 13, who relied heavily on the power of their Zanpakuto and Bankai. Her strength was something else—something intrinsic.
She had mastered every swordsmanship style in Soul Society and seamlessly fused them.
When it came to the realm of swordsmanship, Unohana stood undisputed at the pinnacle of Soul Society.
Despite pouring every ounce of his strength into the fight—treating Unohana as an enemy he had to kill at all costs—the gap between them was insurmountable.
Every time Makoto fell, Unohana would pierce his throat again.
Was it her cruel and mischievous nature? A combat instinct? Or perhaps, punishment for Makoto's earlier lie when he slipped away from her birthday banquet?
"Have you exhausted all your options?"
Unohana's voice, cold and indifferent, cut through the silence. She noticed Makoto's fighting spirit slowly fading. Her half-lidded eyes gazed at him with icy detachment.
"I... I..."
Blood poured endlessly from Makoto's mouth as his left hand slowly reached out towards her.
Just as Unohana waited for him to speak, the light in his seemingly dull eyes sharpened. In an instant, his left hand grabbed hold of Minazuki, Unohana's Zanpakuto.
"Foolishness!"
Realizing his intention, Unohana's expression didn't change. She scoffed lightly and rotated her wrist, intending to crush Makoto's hand entirely.
However, what she felt next shocked her.
It was as though Minazuki had been clamped down by something unrelenting. Even with her superior spiritual pressure and physical strength, she couldn't move or withdraw her blade.
This unexpected turn of events completely caught Unohana off guard.
It was the moment Makoto had been waiting for. He had endured countless defeats, allowed her to pierce his throat without resistance, all for this singular opportunity—the only chance at victory.
Without giving her time to react, Makoto's left hand, now transformed by "Perfect Spirit Body," gripped Minazuki tightly. Even as his throat remained impaled by the blade, he stepped forward, driving the sword deeper into himself as he closed the distance between them.
Faced with this sudden, almost reckless assault, Unohana had one logical choice—release her grip on the zanpakuto and retreat.
But for her, abandoning her sword was tantamount to defeat.
"Naive, Makoto. Do you really think such a tactic will work? Don't forget—I have two hands."
With her free hand, Unohana drew her dark blade and thrust it directly at Makoto's chest, aiming to for his Saketsu(Binding Chain) and Hakusui(Soul Sleep)—the core of his spiritual power.
For a Shinigami, breaking these two meant the dissipation of spiritual energy, a nearly irreversible state that often led to the loss of their Shinigami abilities.
But Makoto didn't hesitate. Instead, he leaned into the strike, deliberately impaling himself on her blade.
Thud.
The dark blade plunged into his body. Their proximity grew even closer.
For the first time, a flicker of shock crossed Unohana's icy expression. She raised her gaze to meet Makoto's eyes.
What she expected—a rapid dissipation of his spiritual energy—did not happen. Instead, massive trees erupted from the surrounding grasslands, their sprawling roots coiling around them both, binding them together in a confined space.
Makoto and Unohana were now locked in an awkward yet intimate position, with barely enough room for her to move her sword.
"You…"
Unohana's voice trembled slightly. She realized she had been outwitted.
Makoto, her once-gentle and seemingly unassuming disciple, had the ability to alter the structure of his spiritual body.
As Unohana's mind instinctively sought a way to break free, Makoto's other hand wrapped around her back. His voice was gentle, almost tender.
"Sensei, does this count as getting closer to you?"
Unohana froze, her cold and detached demeanor faltering. She turned her gaze to Makoto's eyes.
They were as warm as ever, with an undeniable trace of concern.
For the first time, Unohana's heart wavered. Memories of their time together surged through her mind, stirring feelings she thought long buried.
From the start, she had never intended to kill Makoto. Her ruthless attacks and the release of Minazuki were more a catharsis for her suppressed killing intent than a true desire to sever their bond.
Makoto had always been a gentle and kind healer, skilled in Kaido.
And Unohana, no matter how composed she appeared outwardly, was a being driven by an insatiable yearning for combat—destined to die by the sword.
They were two parallel lines, fated never to truly intersect.
Yet, time and again, Makoto's actions defied her expectations. Even when pushed to the brink, he bore the weight of her ferocity without breaking.
And now, despite everything, he embraced her blood-stained hands and shattered soul.
For the first time, a crack appeared in the fortress of Unohana's heart, long sealed by countless battles and rivers of blood.
Slowly, she released her grip on Minazuki and the dark blade. After a moment's hesitation, her arms gently wrapped around Makoto's back. The icy mask she wore melted away, revealing a warm, almost shy demeanor.
"You've surpassed my expectations, Makoto…"
Though her features remained unchanged, Unohana's entire aura transformed. The air of lethal menace was replaced by elegance—and perhaps even a hint of bashfulness.
"Makoto… was I frightening just now?"
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