The blade slid from its sheath.
She didn't bother releasing it.
There was no need.
Of everyone gathered here, only Tsunayashiro Ryūsuke and Tsunayashiro Tokinada possessed strength worth acknowledging.
The rest were little more than fodder to someone of her caliber.
Even centuries ago, when her reiatsu had only been Tier One, Unohana had cut down captain-class opponents with ease.
Now Kazuma's star power had pushed her into the transcendent tier.
Within the current Gotei 13, there were very few people who could even hope to challenge her.
Aside from Kazuma himself, most would struggle simply to survive her blade.
"My, my. Captain Unohana."
Shunsui stepped in before she could move.
"Why don't you let us handle this part?"
Unohana glanced at him.
Shunsui smiled.
"We brought this many captains for a reason. If you kill everyone yourself, the rest of us will have come all this way just to watch."
There was another consideration as well.
The younger captains needed real combat experience.
Opportunities to fight opponents near captain level were rare, and wasting one would be a shame.
Unohana thought for a moment, then returned her sword to its sheath.
"Very well."
She stepped aside.
"Finish it quickly."
Ryūsuke's expression twisted with rage.
"Unohana…"
Her casual dismissal infuriated him more than any insult could have.
She wasn't even going to fight them herself.
Instead, she was handing the Tsunayashiro over to Shunsui and the others as though they were practice targets.
Did she really think one of Soul Society's Great Noble Clans was that helpless?
"Then let's begin, everyone—"
Shunsui never finished his words as a dark figure shot past him.
Kenpachi was already moving.
With his sword in hand and a savage grin across his face, he charged straight into the gathered Tsunayashiro elders.
Steel flashed.
And a scream followed.
Before most of the room even registered what had happened, one elder was already lying in a pool of blood.
Shunsui stared after him.
He'd been about to say something about coordination.
Apparently Kenpachi had no interest in hearing it.
Shunsui sighed.
"Well, so much for that."
Then he drew his own sword and joined the fight.
Komamura followed immediately.
His Zanpakutō swept through the chamber with brutal force, and every swing sent another Tsunayashiro elder crashing to the floor.
Byakuya watched the carnage with thinly veiled disdain.
"Barbaric."
The chamber had become a mess of overturned furniture, scattered bodies, and blood.
Kenpachi and Komamura seemed perfectly content to wade straight through it.
Byakuya had higher standards.
He raised his Zanpakutō.
"Scatter, Senbonzakura."
The blade dissolved.
Countless glittering fragments filled the air like drifting cherry blossoms, beautiful enough to disguise what they truly were.
Then the petals moved.
Under Byakuya's precise control, they swept through the Tsunayashiro ranks in graceful arcs, slicing through flesh wherever they passed.
Blood sprayed.
Screams filled the chamber.
One elder after another collapsed.
Byakuya remained perfectly composed throughout it all.
Now this was how one fought properly.
No charging around splattering blood all over your clothes.
No ending the battle with your haori looking like it had been dragged through a slaughterhouse.
Compared to Kenpachi and the others, who finished every fight looking like uncivilized savages, Byakuya's method was far more refined.
Even mass slaughter could have standards.
...
Of all the captains present, Mayuri was the only one who had yet to join the fighting.
Unlike the others, he had little interest in simply cutting people down.
He cared about science and specimens.
Mayuri darted through the council chamber with several test tubes in hand, collecting blood and tissue samples from fallen Tsunayashiro Shinigami with far more enthusiasm than he'd shown for the battle itself.
It didn't take long for the clan elders to be wiped out.
The council chamber, crowded only moments ago, now looked strangely empty.
Technically, almost everyone was still there.
They were simply lying motionless across the floor.
Very peaceful.
Almost as if they had fallen asleep.
Given how cold the weather was, it was rather impressive that none of them seemed to need a blanket.
"The Tsunayashiro Clan…"
Ryūsuke stared blankly at the bodies scattered around him.
"Is this really how it ends?"
Perhaps they should never have provoked Kazuma.
The new Captain-Commander was every bit as ruthless as Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni had ever been, if not more so.
"Old man."
Kenpachi started toward him.
"You're next."
Each heavy step seemed to shake the floor.
His captain's haori was soaked red with blood, and the grin on his face made him look less like a Shinigami than something that had crawled out of Hell.
"What's wrong?"
Kenpachi raised his sword.
"Too scared to move?"
Then he swung.
Before the blade could reach Ryūsuke, another figure shot between them and blocked the strike.
"Clan Head!"
An elderly man stood in front of Ryūsuke, hunched with age and covered in wrinkles.
His name was Tsunayashiro Yūma.
Kenpachi paused.
Then his eyes widened slightly.
"You?"
A grin tugged at his mouth.
"I thought you died years ago."
Yūma snorted.
"And yet you're still alive too."
A long scar ran down his face from forehead to chin, twisting what had once been fairly handsome features into something far harsher.
His fingers brushed over the scar.
And with that touch, an old memory came rushing back.
...
"Captain Zaraki Kenpachi."
A much younger Yūma smiled at the newly appointed captain of the Eleventh Division.
"Would you consider joining the Tsunayashiro Clan?"
"If you agree, we can provide anything you want."
His tone was smooth and inviting.
"We could even support you in becoming Captain-Commander someday."
At the time, the Tsunayashiro Clan had been looking for a way to extend its influence deeper into the Gotei 13.
Eventually, they settled on Kenpachi.
The reasoning seemed straightforward.
He had only recently become captain of the Eleventh Division, and he came from the Rukongai with no noble family or powerful political faction behind him.
If they could bring him into their camp, both sides stood to benefit.
Unfortunately, they had overlooked one very important detail.
Kenpachi was a battle maniac.
His world revolved around fighting.
Cutting people.
Being cut.
Then finding someone stronger and doing it again.
Power, money, political influence, prestige — none of it meant anything to him.
"No."
Kenpachi rejected the offer instantly.
He didn't even pretend to consider it.
That should have been the end of the conversation.
Even if the alliance failed, the Tsunayashiro could simply remain cordial and try something else later.
Yūma, however, had been too desperate to secure a powerful ally.
So he kept talking.
He listed rewards.
Influence.
Status.
Everything the clan could supposedly offer him.
And the longer he went on, the darker Kenpachi's expression became.
Eventually, Kenpachi had enough.
He drew his sword.
Yūma barely had time to react before the blade tore across his face.
"AAAGH!"
Blood poured down his cheek.
The slash ran from his forehead to his chin, leaving behind the scar he still carried centuries later.
"You bastard!"
Humiliation and pain overwhelmed whatever good sense Yūma had left.
"I'll kill you!"
Even as the words left his mouth, some part of him knew how ridiculous they sounded.
At his level, beating Kenpachi was impossible.
Surviving more than a few exchanges would already count as a miracle.
Still, rage won out.
Yūma gripped his Zanpakutō and charged.
Kenpachi slipped past the attack with ease.
"Idiot."
His sword flashed twice.
Two deep wounds opened across Yūma's body, blood spraying from both.
That finally knocked some sense back into him.
Yūma stared at the monster in front of him and felt fear overwhelm his anger.
Pride disappeared.
Dignity disappeared.
He turned and ran.
Stumbling and bleeding, he fled the Eleventh Division as fast as his legs could carry him, looking every bit like a man whose survival instinct had finally started working.
Kenpachi never bothered chasing him.
And Yūma had carried the scars of that encounter ever since.