Chapter 93: The Spoils of War, Unohana

“Aren’t you going to finish me off?” Unohana Yachiru asked, her voice calm despite her wounds.

“Why would I? You’re my spoils of war! I got nothing from this fight—lose you, and I’m ruined! The old man will chew me out when he gets back! Ugh, you reckless woman!” Yamabuki Haruto groaned, his face a mask of exasperation.

Yamamoto had tasked him with guarding Seireitei, but Haruto had nearly leveled it himself. He glanced around—within a fifteen-mile radius, not a single building stood intact. The repair costs would be astronomical.

Hoisting Unohana over his shoulder, Haruto trudged away from the battlefield. His comrades outside erupted in cheers, seeing their Chief of Staff carrying the defeated enemy.

The Central 46 sages stared at Unohana with terror. Yamamoto’s invincible strength was one thing, but her lawless ferocity unnerved them more.

“Yamabuki Haruto, what are you doing? Kill her now! That’s an order from Central 46!” one sage shrieked, voice cracking with desperation.

Others joined in, their voices rising in a panicked chorus. “Kill her! She’s caused unprecedented losses—over half of Central 46’s sages dead or injured! Her crimes are unforgivable! Execute her at once!”

These cowards, absent during the battle, now pointed fingers from safety.

Haruto swung his blade, sending a wave of sword pressure grazing a sage’s head, nearly scalping him. The man collapsed, trembling and soiled.

“Another word, and I’ll cut you all down! Central 46’s already a wreck—might as well finish you and pin it on her,” Haruto snapped, glancing at Unohana on his shoulder. “My comrades won’t talk. Right, Saitō? Junrei?”

Saitō Furofushi, itching to draw her blade, glared at the sages. Yanagi Junrei’s eyes gleamed with malice.

“Wait, Chief of Staff! My tone was harsh, but… what’s your plan? You can’t keep her—she’s too dangerous! Let Central 46 execute her or lock her in Muken!” another sage stammered.

Before he finished, Haruto’s blade flashed, severing the man’s head. Blood sprayed, and the remaining sages fell silent, petrified.

“Lunatics! Another fearless maniac!” one sage thought, but none dared speak.

“Didn’t I warn you? One more word, and you’re all dead!” Haruto’s eyes blazed. “You worms are replaceable. Want Central 46 disbanded? Just say so—I’ll help. Now, I’m going home.”

The dozen remaining sages clamped their hands over their mouths, fearing they’d be next.

“Go rest! I’m exhausted. Tell me when the Captain-Commander returns,” Haruto said, carrying Unohana toward his quarters.

At home, he locked the door and gently removed Unohana’s tattered haori, careful not to worsen her wounds. She watched silently, neither resisting nor reacting.

Left in a thin undergarment, Unohana was carried to an underground training ground. Haruto tossed her into a pool resembling Kirinji Tenjirō’s White Bone Hell.

“Soak there until the damaged Reishi and blood are purged. Then move to the red pool beside it. Alternate a few times, and your wounds will heal. Speak when you’re better,” Haruto instructed.

He’d once thought these healing pools would aid him, but his super-speed regeneration, awakened during the fight, rendered them obsolete. His newly unlocked Blut Vene and Hierro made injury unlikely.

Two hours later, Haruto returned with clean clothes. He’d considered white silk stockings but hesitated, torn between aesthetics. Stockings or bare feet? Tough choice. He settled on silk, figuring he could remove them if they didn’t suit her.

The outfit was a simple white dress, inspired by his past-life memories and sold at his Seireitei fashion shop—the first of its kind. His summer dresses had become a hit, proving his trendsetting genius.

Unohana dried herself and changed into the dress. A thousand years ago, she looked youthful, around seventeen, exuding a pure, almost delicate aura—belying the warrior who’d carved a path from Seireitei’s East Gate to Central 46.

“Wear this. It suppresses your Reishi,” Haruto said, offering Reishi-sealing shackles. “I’ll guard you until the Captain-Commander returns.”

Unohana complied, slipping on the shackles without protest. After their battle, her life felt fulfilled; her fate no longer mattered.

Haruto led her to a side room upstairs. She leaned against the wall, gazing at blooming cherry blossoms, her thoughts unreadable.

Haruto sat beside her, leaning on his Zanpakutō. He’d ordered the Gotei 13 to deliver food for two, punctually. If those brats forget, they’ll regret it when I’m back.