That sentence wasn't a question; it was almost a statement of fact.
On the ruins of the Spiritual Arts Academy, at the instant when Yomi had been on the verge of erupting, she had caught a fleeting, chaotic flash of spiritual pressure—far stronger than anything Yomi had shown at the time—so potent it made her very soul tremble.
Yomi lifted her teacup but didn't drink. Head bowed, she watched the tea's reflection quiver inside the cup and said nothing for two seconds.
Then she raised her eyes and, without the slightest evasion, met Unohana Retsu's probing gaze and gave an answer so simple it was almost absurd.
"Mm. Yes."
"…" The hand with which Unohana Retsu held the teapot paused, almost imperceptibly, in mid-air.
A thread of scalding water poured unerringly into her own cup; not a drop was spilled, yet deep in her eyes a flicker of genuine surprise and bewilderled raced by.
She had expected Yomi to deny, to argue, to try to cover it up—even to fabricate a plausible excuse.
She had even prepared several counter-moves, planning to guide, probe, and press step by step, savouring the cat-and-mouse struggle before, at the perfect moment, serenely exposing the truth—
just like a cat that enjoys playing with a mouse before eating it.
It was one of the few pleasures left in her long life.
Never had she imagined the other party would admit it—so cleanly, so frankly, without any preamble or sophistry, as naturally as remarking that the weather was fine.
This off-script response shattered every one of her expectations, stranding her carefully prepared "battle of wits" script on its very first page.
She hadn't expected Yomito confess so readily.
It felt like throwing a full-force punch only to meet thin air—novel… and irritating.
But more than anything, it roused an even fiercer thirst to investigate and to fight!
After a brief daze, Unohana Retsu's eyes lit up at once—the gleam of a hunter who has finally scented a beast worthy of her skill.
She set the teapot down and leaned forward slightly; the deliberately suppressed, heart-stopping pressure spread out once more, like invisible threads winding toward Yomi.
Her crimson lips curved into a smile both beautiful and dangerous, her voice still gentle yet now carrying an almost fanatical, irresistible fighting intent:
"Then," her gaze, sharp as a blade, bored straight into Yomi's soul, "when shall we do it again?"
The tone was mild, but the words struck like thunder.
"The kind where we both go all-out."
She bit out the last five syllables, each one heavy as a boulder, brimming with longing for a summit-level showdown.
Those eyes pinned Yomi, as if to see right through her and set her alight.
Yomi's fingers tightened faintly around her cup; she could feel the pure, ultimate battle-lust radiating from Unohana Retsu.
It held no malice—only the instinct to seek the peak and challenge the utmost.
She set her cup down, met that scorching stare without flinching, and sighed with a trace of resignation and practical concern:
"I'd like to," Yomi admitted, a spark of yearning for that clash of powers flickering in her own eyes.
Something inside her also hungered for release and proof.
"But a suitable place is hard to find."
She glanced round this exquisite office that clearly could not survive their "all-out" exchange.
"Besides…" her voice dropped, turning grave, "if I unleash my hidden strength inside Seireitei, the nature of that fluctuation is very distinctive. The Technology Development Bureau will almost certainly detect it, label me an extremely dangerous target, and then… I'd have the entire Thirteen Court Guard Squads hunting me."
It wasn't scare-mongering; Hiroki had already explained what "Hollowfication" meant. She knew exactly what her core power signified—an existence at odds with Soul Society's current order, something that might even be deemed "taboo."
"…" Unohana Retsu fell silent.
The fanatical fighting spirit did not fade, but the light in her eyes shifted from raw excitement to rapid, cool calculation. Yomi's misgivings were realistic—and lethal.
Inside Seireitei, especially the central districts, no arena could contain an unrestrained duel between two top-tier fighters without causing an uproar.
And once Yomi's "distinctive" power surfaced, the rules of Seireitei and the hypersensitivity of certain nobles would trigger the highest-level alert and encirclement.
At that point, even if she, Unohana Retsu, wanted to protect her, she might be unable to—and could drag herself into colossal trouble as well.
Silence stretched through the scent of tea for a full half-minute.
Unohana Retsu's fingers unconsciously drummed the smooth table, a faint tap-tap betraying her intense thought.
At last she lifted her head again, resolve flashing in her eyes—excitement at challenging the rules and certainty she could solve the problem.
"Very well," she said, voice regained calm yet brimming with confidence, "the location… I'll arrange." She already seemed to harbour a daring plan.
"Soul Society is vast; there are always forgotten corners, or… places the rules don't reach." Her words were heavy with implication.
As the first kenpachi, having lived through centuries, she knew of hidden sites far beyond ordinary imagination.
The interstice of the Dangai? The remotest wastes of Rukongai where spiritual energy is so thin no one ever goes? Or perhaps… certain sealed ancient battlefields?
She changed tack, leaning forward again with an almost greedy thirst for knowledge:
"But before that… tell me: if you go all-out, what level of power can you reach?"
She needed a concrete gauge to decide what kind of "place" to find—and how satisfying the fight might ultimately be.
Yomi looked into Unohana Retsu's expectant, pressuring gaze and knew that further concealment or prevarication was pointless.
She drew a slow breath, as though settling a resolve, then spoke—clear, measured, word by word:
"First Class Spiritual Pressure."
Those four words crashed like an invisible hammer into the hushed air!
Clack!
The tea scoop Unohana Retsu had been toying with slipped from her fingers and struck the table with a crisp sound.
She went rigid; her usually gentle eyes snapped wide, pupils erupting with lightning-like disbelief and rapture.
"As I thought…" After a momentary daze, a low, trembling voice forced itself from her throat, thick with unleashed excitement and the relief of "found at last."
"I knew it! My senses were right!" That flash of spiritual pressure on the Shino Academy ruins in that near-death instant had been no illusion—First Class Spiritual Pressure! A realm belonging to legends, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Yamamoto-Genryūsai Shigekuni and herself at the summit!
She shot to her feet; the wide captain's haori stirred though no wind blew, and a far more restrained yet far deeper, terrifying sword-pressure flashed for an instant, making the very air whimper.
The spirit-grass on the windowsill quivered violently.
No longer the gentle mask of a smile, her face bore a near-feral, pure, exultant battle-lust—an infinite craving for a true opponent!
"Excellent… Yomi…" Unohana Retsu's voice carried a strange hoarse satisfaction as she rounded the table and approached, each step seeming to tread upon Yomi's heartbeat.
"A place—very soon. You… be ready."
Looking down at the seated Yomi , her once spring-mild eyes now blazed with flames hot enough to incinerate everything—the soul of the first kenpachi roaring: "Let us fight."