When That Heart Began to Beat, What Dread Hands and Feet Arose in Answer

And when thy heart began to beat, / What dread hand? & what dread feet?--William Blake<Songs of Experience>(1794)

The chaos in the lab had been going on for a long time.

Under Nemu's command, the members of the Twelfth Division managed to withstand several waves of attacks with far fewer Zanpakuto than they had.

These Soul Reaper, who spend most of their time in laboratories, fight in a completely different way from traditional Soul Reaper —they are not proficient in Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō -Zanpakuto almost always just a decoration hanging on their waists. In fact, many of them don't even carry their Zanpakuto with them because it's too cumbersome when conducting experiments. But they do have their own weapons.

A lean soldier Zanpakuto simultaneously, his back slamming against the cold metal wall. Three blades slashed down from the front, side, and above his head, blocking all his escape routes and determined to kill him.

Instead, he grinned, pressed his hand against a spot on his chest, and pressed hard. The miniature bomb buried under his skin detonated simultaneously, and he exploded like a Claymore landmine. Countless tiny shrapnel fragments scattered from his body, instantly riddling the three nearest Zanpakuto with Zanpakuto.

There was a loud "bang".

The Zanpakuto that had just been slashing down from above clattered to the ground, reverting to its original sword form. The other two were also thrown away by the impact, lying on the ground and not getting up for a long time.

The soldier emerged from the smoke, a bottle of green medicine dangling from his mouth. His Shihakusho was torn to shreds, revealing skin covered in fine wounds, which were visibly healing.

He stretched his shoulders, and his joints cracked.

"The results are pretty good," he commented, before moving on to his next target.

In another direction, a soldier who looked so thin and frail that he could be blown away by a gust of wind pulled out several vials of different colors from his sleeve and tilted his head back to gulp them down.

The next second, his body swelled up as if it had been inflated, his muscles bulging from the cuffs and trouser legs of his Shihakusho, and veins spreading from his forearms all the way to his fingertips.

He grabbed the blade that was slashing towards him, his palm cut by the blade, blood flowing down the blade, but he seemed not to feel the pain. He clenched his other fist and pounded it hard on the Zanpakuto's face, punch after punch, until the Zanpakuto stopped resisting.

At the other end of the laboratory, several team members were using the bizarre test tubes of medicine in their hands as ranged weapons, throwing them towards the Zanpakuto.

Some of the potions exploded into flames upon landing, some would quickly corrode the surface Spirit Body tissue of the Zanpakuto when they splashed onto it, and others would evaporate into a pungent mist in the air, Zanpakuto to cough violently and have uncontrollable tears and snot.

A cloaked Zanpakuto blocked a vial of medicine flying towards him; the vial shattered on the cloak, and the liquid inside spread along the fabric's texture.

He instinctively sensed something was wrong and immediately took off his cloak and threw it on the ground. The liquid, after corroding the cloak, continued to corrode the ground beneath it, burning a large, sizzling hole in the special metal floor.

The Zanpakuto looked at the cave with surprise. "Such a dangerous thing, and these guys just carry it around like that? Are they all crazy?"

Another Zanpakuto beside him flicked the blood off its blade, somewhat annoyed by the Twelfth Division's unpredictable attack. "Who cares if they're crazy? There are just enough of them; we can wear them down!"

What he said wasn't wrong. Although the members of the Twelfth Division had managed to withstand several waves of attacks using these bizarre methods, their numerical disadvantage was undeniable.

The number of Zanpakuto was several times that of them, and each Zanpakuto had its own fighting style and abilities. In the continuous high-intensity battle, the members of the Twelfth Division had almost used up the gadgets they carried on their bodies. The members who had drunk the enhancement drugs were also beginning to experience the various side effects of the drugs. Those members who had previously been able to fight against many opponents without being at a disadvantage were now dizzy and had difficulty even standing.

One of the Zanpakuto licked his lips, looking at the Zanpakuto lying haphazardly on the floor, now back in their Zanpakuto sword forms. His eyes were filled with rage and killing intent. "How could we let so many of our comrades fall like this, without any explanation!"

He took a step forward, the blade leaving a deep gash on the floor. His gaze swept over the Twelfth Division members who were still struggling to hold on, his voice filled with undisguised cruelty. "Once they've exhausted all their methods, we'll make them wish they were dead!"

Nemu stood in front of the cylindrical container, holding Unohana's Zanpakuto and Captain's Haori.

She led the remaining members of her squad, who were still able to fight, to form a semi-circle around the container, warily watching the Zanpakuto. Her breathing was steady, and her face remained expressionless, but the fingers gripping the swords tightened slightly.

Most of the nutrient solution in the container had receded, and the pale blue liquid flowed out from the drain at the top. The liquid level dropped inch by inch, revealing Unohana's soaked black hair and her tightly closed eyes. Her eyelashes twitched slightly.

When the progress bar on the main display jumped to the last bar and the status indicator changed from "Wake-up in progress" to "Wake-up complete", Unohana opened her eyes.

The first thing she noticed was the dark mass of Zanpakuto outside the container. Some of the Nemu Zanpakuto approaching Nemu step by step, some were crouching on the ground checking their companions' injuries, and several were swinging their blades, trying to pry open the sealed windows. The blades sparked blindingly when they collided with the alloy containing the Sekkiseki.

"Oh dear, it seems the Twelfth Division was attacked while I was asleep." Unohana stood behind the slowly opening container gate, her voice carrying a faint smile, her expression relaxed, not at all like someone trapped in an ambush.

She reached out and gently pushed open the gate, her bare feet stepping onto the cold metal floor. Her long, wet hair clung to her body, water droplets dripping from the ends, leaving a small, dark wet patch at her feet.

The Zanpakuto stopped what they were doing when they saw the woman in the vessel awaken.

Several people carrying swords took a few steps closer, their Reiatsu glowing faintly in the darkness, but no one dared to rush forward—those who could be protected so closely by the Twelfth Division in this situation could not be ordinary characters.

Unohana stood in the center of the encirclement, completely naked, her long, wet hair hanging down to her waist, water droplets sliding down her shoulder blades and running down her back to the floor.

She showed no discomfort or embarrassment whatsoever, simply turning her head slightly to look at Nemu standing beside the container, her tone as gentle and calm as ever. "Nemu, where did Captain Kurotsuchi go?"

Nemu respectfully handed over Unohana's clothes. "Because Muramasa went straight to Mayuri-sama's collection room after the battle began, Mayuri-sama followed him and asked me to wait here for your awakening."

"I see." Unohana took the Shihakusho and began to put it on slowly, her fingers sliding down the cuffs to neatly fold the collar. "Captain Kurotsuchi, has there been any progress in the Zanpakuto rebellion incident?"

Nemu shook her head and handed over the Captain's Haori: "Unfortunately, as of now, Mayuri-sama does not have a way to restore the Zanpakuto to normal."

Unohana put on the Captain's Haori, raised her hand, and gently brushed her soaking wet long hair out from under the haori, her movements as delicate as if she were doing her hair, but her brows furrowed slightly. "Is this how it is? That's a bit troublesome."

As the Zanpakuto listened to this conversation, they also saw the white haori that Unohana was wearing—the captain's insignia—but it was this haori that made them completely lower their guard.

The Captain-level is indeed very powerful, but the current situation is that none of the captains can Shikai. The number "four" on the haori indicates that Unohana is the captain of the Fourth Division, which is mainly for healing, among the Thirteenth Divisions. It is conceivable how much fighting power she can still have without being able to Shikai.

"Hey, are you kidding me? These guys' last resort is actually the medical team leader?"

The first to speak was a Zanpakuto carrying a broadsword, who then burst into laughter. "I thought it was some kind of biological weapon created by the Twelfth Division, but it turns out to be that 'old woman' from the Fourth Division who can't do anything except Kaidō. She really scared herself."

The Zanpakuto beside them echoed their sentiments, gripping their blades tightly once more, their Reiatsu slowly circulating along their edges. The caution they had felt earlier due to Unohana's sudden awakening was now replaced by mockery.

In their eyes, the Fourth Division Captain, soaking wet and slowly adjusting his cuffs, was utterly harmless compared to the Twelfth Division's madmen who used bones as knives and themselves as bombs.

Nemu ignored the mockery, and with both hands she held up Unohana's Zanpakuto, presenting it to Unohana: "However, Mayuri-sama has now confirmed one thing."

"That is—" Nemu's gaze slowly swept over the still-laughing Zanpakuto, her tone completely flat, "Zanpakuto directly will not cause it to disappear!"

Although there will be a recovery period, the Soul Pulse of the Zanpakuto will not disappear.

So...

Captain Unohana, please do your best!

She didn't hide these words from the Zanpakuto. Upon hearing them, one of the most hot-tempered Zanpakuto drew his sword and charged towards Unohana.

"What do you mean by 'do whatever you want'? A medical team leader who can't even perform Shikai? Don't make a fool of yourself!"

His pace quickened, and finally he rushed towards Unohana like a shadow, the blade drawing an arc in the air.

However, he collapsed after just one encounter.

No one saw how the sword was swung, or even when Unohana gripped the hilt.

Just as the Zanpakuto charged towards her, a faint flash of light passed before his chest, and the leading Zanpakuto was instantly cleaved in two.

His upper body flew several steps forward due to the momentum, while his lower body remained frozen in place. Then, the two halves of his body transformed back into their sword form and landed simultaneously on the ground with a dull metallic clang.

The blade broke in two from the middle, the cut was clean, demonstrating Unohana's superb swordsmanship.

The entire enclosed space fell silent instantly.

The Zanpakuto that had been laughing just moments before were now frozen in place.

Some people were still holding their knives, the blades hanging motionless in mid-air; others had their mouths open, their laughter caught in their throats and turned into very slight spasms.

Unohana gripped her Zanpakuto, stepped over the broken sword, and slowly walked towards the Zanpakuto. Her Captain's Haori fluttered slightly behind her, her long, wet hair still dripping water. Her eyes were completely devoid of their usual gentleness. With each step she took forward, the Zanpakuto retreated a step.

"Nemu, the members of the Twelfth Division must have been quite exhausted from the previous battle. They should rest well on the sidelines. I'll take over this battle." Unohana's voice was still as gentle and peaceful as ever, but in this deathly silence, that gentle voice was more chilling than any threat.

Nemu glanced at the densely packed Zanpakuto around her. "Captain Unohana, I still have the ability to fight, please let me..."

"Nemu!" Unohana interrupted Nemu, "Just rest properly to the side!"

Nemu glanced at Unohana Zanpakuto, and then at the members of the Twelfth Division who were nearing their limit. She didn't insist any further, and bowed slightly, saying, "May you have good luck in your battles, Captain Unohana."

The surrounding Zanpakuto finally came to their senses. They looked at each other, their eyes filled with fear, but that fear was quickly replaced by anger.

"You! You think you can defeat all of us by yourself?!" one of the Zanpakuto roared through gritted teeth, "Don't get too cocky!"

Unohana stopped in her tracks, gripping her Zanpakuto in one hand, the tip hanging at her side, her face expressionless. "A mere few thousand repetitions, what's so difficult about that?"

The air seemed to freeze the moment Unohana uttered those words.

The so-called "sukushin" is the most basic sword-swinging practice in Kendo, which involves repeatedly, monotonously, and tediously swinging the sword in the air.

The meaning of Unohana is also very simple: fighting against this group of Zanpakuto is no different from swinging a sword thousands of times in the air.

This is the greatest insult to them—each Zanpakuto has its own unique fighting style, and their wielders have to put in a lot of effort to defeat them.

And this woman in front of them actually compared the battle with all their Zanpakuto to practicing swinging them in the air!

The Zanpakuto towards her, its blade raised. Behind it, all the Zanpakuto moved—the blades of various shapes rose simultaneously, charging towards Unohana.

Unohana simply held an ordinary Zanpakuto, swinging it down one strike at a time, without revealing any Reiatsu or sword pressure.

Those Zanpakuto that once rendered countless Soul Reaper helpless were like firewood waiting to be chopped down in front of her.

Her steps were slow, yet she appeared incredibly composed amidst the encirclement of Zanpakuto; her movements were uncomplicated, yet she effortlessly slashed into the Spirit Body of the Zanpakuto.

The Zanpakuto fell one after another under her blade; the clash of blades was rare, and the only sound that could be heard was the sound of blades cutting into flesh.

However, Unohana's expression remained unchanged, without a trace of extra emotion. Just as Unohana herself had said, she was simply conducting a routine Kendo training session.

The Zanpakuto that had once mocked her fell one by one. Their shouts grew weaker and weaker, their attacks slowed, and their expressions changed from arrogance to solemnity and finally to despair.

Even knowing they were no match for the monster before them, they gripped their swords tightly, carrying the dignity and pride of their Zanpakuto as they charged towards Unohana's blade.

Until the last Zanpakuto sword fell to the floor with a crisp metallic clang, Unohana slowly sheathed her Zanpakuto.

Broken blades and Zanpakuto now lay silently on the floor.

The members of the Twelfth Division stood there dumbfounded, watching their captain who had defeated an entire Zanpakuto squad with just basic attacks. In their eyes, it was as if Unohana's sword had a magnetic pull, Zanpakuto seemed to have willingly run into Unohana's blade—it was truly unbelievable.

Unohana turned around, her long, soaking wet hair tracing an arc behind her as she moved. She raised her hand, brushing the stray hairs that had fallen across her cheek behind her ear, then turned her head to look at Nemu behind her. "Where is your captain now, Nemu?"

The tone was as if what he had just done was merely a trivial daily task.