Soul Society: Love and Bonds [3]

“Not bad!”

“You’re really not bad at all!”

Unohana Yachiru stared at the young man in front of her, her normally cold and gloomy eyes finally looking at Fujimiya Makoto as though he were truly alive.

Still holding that finger-length dagger, she praised him in a tone that could almost pass as admiration.

“You’re the second person I’ve ever seen who could advance this quickly in swordsmanship.”

“Do you wish to live?”

“Pfft!”

Makoto spat quietly on the ground.

He didn't know whether this was genuine praise or just sadistic teasing—like a cat toying with a mouse.

But having killed so many people in Zaraki already, he’d yet to see anyone just let someone else go so easily.

And if they did, they'd usually follow it up with a knife in the back.

Those reborn here after death had all been vile people in their past lives, just one step away from Hell itself.

That was how brutal Zaraki was.

So… The very act of lifting his sword was already his answer.

Just survive?

More than just survive!

Even when facing overwhelming odds, trapped in unavoidable danger, forced to fight with everything he had until his blood ran dry—he must survive!

And he had to live better than anyone else.

In this life, he had the advantage of knowing the future, and even had a cheat system to back him up!

If he ended up dying here, in what amounted to the beginner’s village trash heap, wouldn’t that be far too pathetic?

“Excellent.”

Seeing the determination in his eyes, Unohana Yachiru’s smile deepened further. She tossed aside the tiny dagger casually and slowly drew the shallow blade at her waist.

Her voice remained gentle and soothing, as if she were speaking of something pleasant.

“Use any method you can imagine.”

“If you can touch me even once—even just a corner of my clothing—you win.”

“Now, entertain me.”

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth—

A bone-chilling dread surged through Makoto’s heart.

In the next moment, terrifying spiritual pressure erupted from her like a tidal wave, creating a force far more oppressive than a tornado. His entire field of vision seemed distorted, crushed by invisible gravity. It was as if every molecule of space was being overwhelmed, forcing the weak to their knees.

And then—

She vanished from sight.

Makoto blinked in confusion. A gleaming sword abruptly tore through the scene before him.

Screech—Clang!

Sparks scattered violently as metal collided against metal, producing a harsh, ringing chorus. Makoto barely managed to block her casual swing, immediately forced onto his back foot, sword grinding against his shoulder, struggling desperately to hold his ground.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

The repeated sound of clashing blades echoed sharply.

Yet Unohana showed no hesitation, each strike more ruthless and precise than the last. The crushing pressure of her blows seemed ready to shatter every particle of Makoto’s being, making it increasingly impossible just to defend.

She kept escalating!

Though Makoto had already anticipated this woman’s strength, he quickly realized he’d severely underestimated her.

Even without seeing her [Shikai], judging by canon alone, this woman was at least on par with a high-ranked officer.

His only consolation was that the greater the pressure, the faster his improvement.

[Harder! Come on, harder, Big Sister! Don’t pity me just because I’m a delicate flower~!]

[Zanjutsu +10]

[Pathetic! Pathetic Big Sister! Can’t you go deeper? You need to squeeze every drop from my body~!]

[Zanjutsu +10]

[Faster! Pathetic Big Sister, harder! I can still take more~!]

[Zanjutsu +10]

Under such brutal pressure, Makoto’s abilities were skyrocketing at a near-unbelievable pace.

[Zanjutsu: Rank 6↑]
[Zanjutsu Bottleneck Phase: Stage Two]
[Breakthrough via Life-and-Death Combat! Zanjutsu Rank Increased!]
[Zanjutsu: Rank 7↑]

His talent ceiling still hadn’t been reached.

Yet, the more intensely he fought, the more clearly he perceived the immense gulf separating them.

The more they fought, the more terrified he became.

According to the system, he was progressing at lightning speed, yet the distance between them remained unfathomable.

It felt like this woman was a bottomless pit, endlessly demanding more.

No matter how much he poured in—blood, sweat, or spirit—it would never be enough.

Even worse, she was matching his every movement, mirroring his spiritual pressure, speed, reactions, and strength exactly.

What terrifying control.

A cat toying with its prey.

She was simply playing.

Was this how terrifying the power scale was in Soul Society? And yet, such a monster was stuck in a forsaken place like Zaraki?

Lost in thought for just a moment, Makoto's vision inadvertently caught the flutter of her clothing in the wind, revealing the pale expanse beneath her robes, swaying temptingly—

What the hell…?

His gaze instinctively lingered.

“Distracted.”

Unohana’s icy voice interrupted his chaotic thoughts.

To think he had the nerve to get distracted at a moment like this.

He had spare attention, did he?

Her sword abruptly increased in speed.

Slash!

That split-second distraction was all she needed. Her sword slipped effortlessly past Makoto's defense, slicing diagonally across his chest and leaving a long, bloody wound.

Blood splashed freely.

In a panic, Makoto rolled desperately along the ground. Hidden from view momentarily, his empty hand pressed against the sand, grabbing something hastily.

Just that slight movement had saved him from being sliced in two.

Unohana paused, raising her sword and gently licking the blade, savoring the taste of his young blood. Her pale face twisted into a disturbingly satisfied smile.

“You dodged again.”

“You’re even better than I expected.”

“It’s as if you improve with every strike.”

“But those who wield swords merely to survive always end up dead.”

“Only those who fully immerse themselves in the thrill of battle, who revel endlessly between life and death, survive to the end.”

Unohana’s lovely face broke into a calm smile, arms spreading toward him as she commanded:

“Strike again!”

Makoto gripped his sword tightly, his entire body tense.

Sand exploded beneath his feet as he surged forward at maximum speed with [Shunpo].

His blade flashed in a dazzling arc.

Unohana’s smile was serene, stabbing forward at the same moment.

Slash!

Their blades crossed in midair.

Makoto froze.

Her blade pierced through his young chest, releasing torrents of blood.

Yet his sword hadn't even grazed her clothing.

“So close...?”

She sighed softly, watching Makoto’s sword fall limply to his side. Her eyes lowered with disappointment, like a child whose favorite toy had just broken.

Though her mature appearance and enticing figure suggested otherwise, her expression was purely childlike dissatisfaction.

But this wasn’t the first time.

The weak were always fragile.

She sighed again softly, preparing to shake the ruined meat off her blade.

Yet suddenly—

Makoto’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist and staining her sleeve crimson.

Unohana frowned slightly.

She didn’t appreciate people being clingy after the game was over.

Then Makoto weakly spoke up.

“Hey!”

He raised his head slowly, blood staining his handsome face, eyes fierce despite his injuries.

“Too bad… those teardrops were really my type.”

Unohana paused, either confused or simply taken aback, momentarily stunned into silence.

This was certainly a first—someone foolish enough to gamble their life for something so frivolous.

And yet, that momentary lapse was enough.

Makoto abruptly tightened his grip on her wrist, forcing the blade deeper into himself, ignoring the agony as he lunged forward. His left hand reached desperately toward her, determined to touch this wicked woman even if it cost him his life.

Simultaneously, a familiar tiny dagger suddenly appeared from his palm.

Unohana’s eyes widened sharply.

It was from earlier—when he'd rolled on the ground…

Rip!

The finger-length dagger tore through her robes, plunging downward.

But the seemingly deadly strike suddenly stopped short.

Makoto stared downward.

The dagger’s tip had barely scratched her smooth skin, leaving a mark so shallow it didn’t even bleed.

He couldn't push it any further.

“……”

This woman... she's seriously tough.

Exhausted, Makoto's last remaining spiritual energy drained away. His body trembled, blood spilling uncontrollably from his lips.

Staring fiercely into Unohana’s beautiful face, he muttered weakly with a stubborn smile:

“…Distracted!”

With that last breath, Makoto felt his strength vanish, consciousness slipping away. His head slowly fell forward, losing consciousness.

Unohana stared blankly, holding the boy who had collapsed into her embrace, still clutching that tiny dagger.

For the first time in ages, she genuinely laughed, joyfully holding him close like a mother gently embracing her child. Tenderly stroking his blood-stained hair, she whispered excitedly against his forehead:

“That’s right… improvement alone isn’t enough!”

“Battle should be exactly like this!”

“Unpredictable, ruthless!”

“You really are… such a wonderful surprise.”

...

[Event: Bond with Unohana Yachiru increased↑]
[Reward: Spiritual Power +1, Talent Points +1]
[Acquired Bond Trait: Swordsmanship Genius]
[Spiritual Power: Rank 7 (Upper) → Rank 6 (Lower)]
[Swordsmanship Genius: Raises Zanjutsu talent cap to Rank 12, ignores bottlenecks, increases acquisition speed, and may unlock unique sword techniques.]

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T/N: did he just call tits teardrops

This is a fan translation of 人在尸魂界，从恋与羁绊开始 by 纸刻 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!