"Hss—"
Kensei's movement pulled at his wounds, making him involuntarily suck in air. Though he was exhausted enough to just collapse somewhere and do nothing, if he didn't treat these injuries, he might actually pass out here today.
"Sister Hana, you really don't know your own strength."
"And you don't know how to be gentle with a lady, Kensei?"
Unohana's wounds were no better than Kensei's. The pain constantly stimulated her nerves, and she found herself almost addicted to the sensation.
Kensei's mouth twitched. The way Sister Hana phrased that made their intense battle sound like foreplay.
"We can't treat our injuries here. Remember that hot spring I used to heal your hands last time?"
"That red-and-white spring?"
Kensei recalled. Back then, he, Yoruichi, and Soi Fon had... indulged themselves a little inside.
He glanced at both their conditions. If they walked through the streets like this, unpleasant rumors would spread before long—something about Kensei clashing violently with one of Old Man Yama's old comrades.
Reluctantly imposing on Kūkon once more, Kensei transported them both to that familiar place. The misty hot spring pool remained exactly as before.
"Nothing's changed here."
"Not that much time has passed, you know."
Unohana found Kensei's pretended world-weariness amusing. She had already begun removing her tattered Shihakushō, her movements unhurried and utterly without self-consciousness.
She stepped slowly into the spring. The warm water soaked her toes and the wounds on her legs, bringing waves of stinging pain. Her body—still seductive after a millennium—appeared and disappeared through the rising mist.
At this moment, Kensei fully understood Soldier Boy. Women truly were like fine wine—the older, the more mellow.
Unohana swept her long black hair over one shoulder, revealing the elegantly curved, fair nape of her neck. Then she slowly sank into the water.
They say healers have parents' hearts—how could mere differences of gender prevent treatment?
Kensei unhesitatingly entered the water. He felt his wounds dissolve like water, the shallower injuries beginning to slowly close.
For a time, both simply enjoyed this strange tingling sensation. After who-knew-how-long of slaughter, they both immersed themselves in this relaxation.
"Last time I used this to treat you, the effect was remarkable." Unohana tilted her head, her gaze falling on the slowly healing wound on Kensei's shoulder. "Even then, I thought—with such a wonderful resource, our future spars needn't be so restrained."
Though Sister Hana had now resumed her usual gentle demeanor, her words still made Kensei's body tense. So even back then, she'd been plotting to use this spring—to speed their recovery for ever more satisfying battles.
Tenjirō Kirinji, I curse you!
Thanks to this hot pot, their injuries have improved considerably. They haven't fully recovered, but it hasn't affected their basic movement.
Unohana moved closer to Kensei. Ripples spread across the water's surface with each step.
Kensei instinctively wanted to retreat. Sister Hana was certainly captivating, but that battle in Muken had truly unnerved him.
If it were anyone else, he'd already be stepping up to the plate, generously imparting all his knowledge.
Unohana rose slowly from the water. Droplets slid along her body's curves. She stopped before Kensei—close enough to clearly feel each other's breath. She raised a hand, gently tracing the wound she'd inflicted on his shoulder, now reduced to faint traces.
"Does it still hurt?"
Her question wasn't simple concern. It was more like reliving their battle, confirming the masterpiece she'd created.
Kensei felt the warm breath before him. The subtle stimulation made him stand at attention without containing.
Unohana's fingers descended lightly, slowly sliding along the nearly-vanished scar. Her touch carried undeniable pressure and clear intent.
"Kensei." Her voice was even warmer than the surrounding spring water. "That slaughter let me feel your strength. But it wasn't enough."
"Sister Hana... isn't this too fast?"
Kensei's body trembled slightly. She loved combat, but this? Had the Soul King changed the parameters?
Even galgames weren't this abrupt!
"Too fast?" Unohana's fingertips slid to Kensei's chest, then continued downward. "For you, perhaps. But I've waited nearly a thousand years."
Kensei noticed Unohana's eyes had changed. That was the joy of the first Kenpachi, Yachiru, upon discovering precious prey—and a deep desire that made his hair stand on end.
He wondered if his kidneys could withstand a thousand years of accumulated skill.
"Words are unnecessary. Begin at once."
Whatever Kensei thought, escape was impossible today. Had anyone ever seen a starving tiger devour prey and spit out the bones?
Unohana proved herself a mature woman tempered by time—nothing like innocent girls such as Nel. Her initiative brooked no argument.
Her soft lips moved with the same rhythm as her sword in battle: unhurried yet approaching, controlling the tempo between them.
"Like our fight. Don't hold back."
Kensei felt Unohana transform back into the first Kenpachi, Yachiru. Her movements carried instinctive dominance and aggression, as if she intended to lift him like a claw machine.
Ripples spread across the water's surface with their movements. Unohana's loose black hair swayed with the waves, occasionally brushing Kensei's skin, bringing waves of tingling sensation.
A millennium had gifted her not only astonishing power and swordsmanship, but also the mature charm infused into every movement—fully displayed in this moment.
Kensei felt this wasn't merely physical entanglement, but rather a continuation of their earlier slaughter—equally intense and deep.
None could say how long passed before the intense waves gradually stilled, leaving only droplets falling to the water's surface, stirring new ripples.
Kensei gazed skyward, contemplating whether he should seek Hōgyoku enhancement.
Even previous intense encounters hadn't left this hollow feeling. Did they really say "thirty like wolves, forty like tigers"? Sister Hana was even more excessive.
Looking at Unohana, forehead touching him, softly breathing—her face flushed, her eyes deeply satisfied—she showed no sign of discomfort whatsoever.
Kensei closed his eyes and assessed himself. His spiritual pressure had fully recovered. So why this inexplicable emptiness?