As that obscure release command rang out, a strange fragrance spread through the air.
An absurdly enormous classical female puppet slowly materialized behind Kisuke Urahara.
The puppet wore a magnificent dark robe, her long black hair woven into neat braids that hung down on either side.
Her eyes were half-closed, exuding a divine air of indifference toward all things.
The moment the enormous puppet appeared, she extended a huge, slender, fair-skinned hand.
Her fingertips lightly brushed Kisuke Urahara's bloodstained face.
Askin's eyes widened as he watched the scene before him defy all common sense.
He looked as though he had seen a ghost. "Are you summoning a nurse to see you off on your deathbed?"
The next second, Askin's jaw nearly dropped to the ground in shock.
Rows of fine golden stitches suddenly appeared out of nowhere around the edges of Kisuke Urahara's ruined eye sockets.
As though equipped with their own navigation system, the threads rapidly wove through his eye sockets, stitching them together in a way that defied convention.
In just two breaths, the ruined eyeball tissue and damaged optic nerves were completely reconstructed.
Kisuke Urahara gently blinked his newly restored, clear eyes, then flicked his wrist and twirled Benihime before him.
"Sorry you had to see that embarrassing display."
Kisuke Urahara raised his head, a composed smile curling his lips. "The process might look a little horrifying, but at least I can see that punchable face of yours clearly again."
Askin took a large step back, his face filled with disgust.
"Is everyone from your Twelfth Division a little messed up? That's absolutely nauseating."
Askin patted his chest. "You can instantly stitch back together even eye tissue destroyed by your own immune system?"
"Before you call someone else nauseating, maybe take a look at that poisonous sludge