In the days that followed, Liu Chuan went to the 4th Division's kendo hall almost every day.
The sound of wooden swords clashing became the hall's most constant melody.
With every sparring match, Liu Chuan hungrily absorbed the nourishment of swordsmanship, improving at a rapid pace.
From struggling to hold on at first, to gradually managing the occasional counterattack, to lasting longer beneath Retsu Unohana's unpredictable assaults, he even began to grasp sword techniques of his own.
And amid their increasingly fierce exchanges, the soul of the first Kenpachi, long hidden beneath Retsu Unohana's guise as a gentle healer, seemed to be gradually awakening as well.
The paths traced by her sword became sharper and more varied, while the calm, waterlike light in her eyes occasionally—
—flashed with a long-lost delight and fervor born purely from battle itself amid their exquisitely matched techniques.
It was not a desire for slaughter, but the excitement of climbers encountering a rival atop a perilous peak.
Within this dojo, where there were only the two of them, she seemed to briefly shed the responsibilities of the 4th Division captain and once again touch the shadow of herself who had stood at the pinnacle of swordsmanship in Soul Society, known as Yachiru.
Until one day, after an especially exhilarating sparring match, the two stood facing each other.
Retsu Unohana did not sheathe her sword as usual. She lightly spun it in her hand, the wooden blade angled toward the floor.
Her gaze fell upon the crimson sun beyond the window, about to sink below the horizon. Her usual gentle smile held an extra trace of reminiscence and relief, as though it had crossed an immense span of time.
"Liu Chuan," she suddenly said, her voice even softer than usual.
"Hadn't you always wanted to know