The morning began quietly.
Too quietly.
Ethan sensed it before anyone said a word. The Division 4 barracks hummed with purposeful motion—healers whispering to each other, footsteps rushing, clipboards shuffling, Unohana nowhere to be seen.
That alone was a red flag.
He tied his uniform sash, stepped outside, and found Isane waiting by the entrance with a pale face and a trembling stack of medical packets.
"Ethan!" She hurried over. "Captain Unohana wants you equipped. Right now."
"Equipped for what?"
"A… field response."
She swallowed. "A live one."
He blinked. "Already? But I've barely—"
"Please just follow me," she whispered, looking over her shoulder as if the shadows had ears.
---
The Captain Appears
The doors to the main medical hall slid open.
Unohana stood in the center of the room, serene as a lantern flame in a storm. Her haori fluttered faintly with spiritual pressure, though she radiated only calm.
"Ethan," she said, voice gentle. "Walk with me."
That tone—soft, warm—was scarier than Soi Fon screaming in his face.
He followed.
They moved through the hall, passing tables covered in medical scrolls and emergency supplies. The tension was unmistakable; shinigami moved with the controlled panic of people preparing for something unexpected.
"Is something happening?" Ethan asked.
"A number of Division 11 combatants collapsed during a training session," Unohana said. "Severe spiritual poisoning. All at once."
Ethan stiffened. "Poisoning? Inside Soul Society?"
"Uncommon." Her eyes gleamed faintly. "But not impossible."
"And you're sending me with you?"
"I could go alone," she said pleasantly. "But you need real-world exposure. And this will tell me more about you than any controlled exercise."
His heart did a soft oh no.
But Unohana continued:
"You have talent. A strong one. But talent without battlefield application is unstable. This mission will anchor you."
Anchor.
In Unohana's vocabulary, that could mean "teach you," "test you," or "break you."
He wasn't sure which she meant today.
---
Departing Division Four
A messenger shinigami rushed in as they reached the outside courtyard.
"Captain! More reports coming in! Division 11 says—"
Unohana raised a hand.
Silence fell instantly.
"We leave," she said. "Now."
She stepped forward—her pace unhurried, as if strolling to a tea shop.
Ethan rushed to keep up, feeling the air bend around her. The pressure was gentle—barely present—but enough to part crowds without a word.
They reached the edge of the courtyard where a medical supply cart waited, sealed with anti-contamination charms.
"Take two kits," Unohana said. "And keep your reiatsu compressed. If something is leaking poison, we don't know if it reacts to exposure."
Ethan nodded, slinging the kits over his shoulder.
Isane called after him:
"Be careful! Division 11 environments are… chaotic!"
"What does that—"
A crash echoed across the district, followed by someone shouting:
"GET UP, YOU COWARD! YOU'RE NOT DEAD!"
Ethan stared at Isane.
"Oh," he said. "That."
---
The Path Through Seireitei
As they approached the Division 11 training grounds, Ethan felt it—waves of aggressive reiatsu, like heat rising off desert sand.
Unohana stopped.
"Ethan."
"Yes?"
"What do you sense?"
He hesitated, then closed his eyes, feeling out the spiritual landscape.
"…Anger. Fear underneath it. Something… metallic?"
It was hard to describe. "Like iron filings under water."
Unohana's smile thinned.
"You learn quickly. Yes. Something is contaminating their reiatsu. And their bodies may be trying to burn it out."
"That sounds… incredibly painful."
"It is."
She continued walking.
---
The Scene of the Incident
They passed through the giant wooden gates into Division 11 territory.
The sight hit him like a punch:
Shinigami lay collapsed across the training field, some twitching, some muttering incoherently. Others were upright but trembling, swords half-drawn, confused and disoriented.
A lieutenant-sized man was vomiting dark, shimmering liquid.
"That is definitely not normal," Ethan whispered.
Unohana didn't flinch.
"What a vivid reaction," she said calmly. "That will help your diagnosis."
A massive, bruised, scowling man staggered toward them—an officer judging by his headband.
"You!" he growled at Unohana. "We didn't call for a kid!"
Ethan almost replied, but Unohana stepped forward with a soft smile.
"He is with me."
That shut him up instantly.
The man took a step back. "R-right. Sorry. Didn't mean—"
Unohana placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Of course you didn't," she said sweetly.
The officer paled.
Ethan swallowed hard.
Unohana's smile could stop a heart faster than a sword strike.
---
Ethan's First Live Case
Unohana gestured toward a collapsed shinigami convulsing on the ground, dark lines spreading across his skin like ink veins.
"Ethan," she said. "You take him."
"I—alone?"
"I'll watch."
Which meant: Don't fail.
Ethan dropped to his knees, opening a kit.
He set both hands on the man's chest.
Immediately he felt it—like grabbing a wire sparking with unstable reiatsu. Something was crawling through the man's channels, poisoning the flow, replacing it with corrosive energy.
"What is that?" Ethan muttered.
A whisper.
A pulse.
Almost like…
Hollow reiatsu.
But twisted. Muted. Thinned.
Unohana was watching him closely.
"What do you feel?"
"It's… wrong," Ethan breathed. "Like Hollow energy, but… not fully. Something extracted from a Hollow, maybe? Refined?"
Unohana smiled faintly.
"Good. Continue."
Ethan channeled stabilizing energy along the poisoned pathways, guiding the contamination out through forced circulation. The man screamed once—short, sharp—but then his body slackened.
The dark veins receded.
Color returned to his face.
His breathing stabilized.
Unohana crouched beside Ethan, studying the patient.
"You succeeded," she said softly. "Efficiently."
Ethan exhaled shakily.
Then came the next part:
Unohana leaned in, voice low.
"And you did it in a way you never showed me in the practice rooms."
Ethan froze.
Her eyes were soft.
Her tone gentle.
Her smile warm.
But something dangerous shimmered beneath all of it.
"You have natural talent… and secrets," she whispered. "Both are valuable. Both are dangerous."
He swallowed. "Captain—"
"Later," she said, standing suddenly. "We aren't finished."
She pointed toward the training hall.
"Screams still echo inside. We go next."
He steadied his breathing.
Unohana walked ahead, serene and unhurried.
Ethan followed.
And as they entered the hall, a fresh wave of dark reiatsu slammed into them—wet, suffocating, unmistakably Hollow-tainted.
Even Unohana's eyes narrowed.
"Interesting," she murmured. "Something is manifesting."
Ethan's heartbeat accelerated.
This wasn't just medical contamination.
This was an active threat inside Soul Society.
Unohana's warm voice cut through the darkness:
"Stay close, Ethan. And do not die."
Not the most reassuring guidance.
But as always with Unohana—
She meant it lovingly.