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Chapter 50: Sip Of Darkness
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There she was. A graceful figure leaning over him, hands glowing with warm light. Her dark braid hung over her shoulder, her expression calm and composed.
"Captain... Unohana?" He murmured, surprised.
She smiled softly, "You know me?"
"Of course. I know of all the Captains."
She chuckled gently, a quiet, pleasant sound, "I've heard... you fought Kenpachi."
Akashi laughed gently, shaking his head, "It wasn't much of a fight. More like... a practical demonstration of spiritual inequality."
"You didn't seem angry... That he put you here," She commented.
"I accepted the challenge knowing that I would end up here," Akashi shrugged, "I just wanted to feel the disparity to motivate myself."
"Oh?" Her curiosity was piqued, "And how did it feel, facing someone like him?"
Akashi stared at the ceiling, voice thoughtful, "Hmm. Honestly, it was kind of a waste of time."
Unohana's brows rose, just a little, "A waste?"
"Kenpachi's way of fighting; it's brute force. Raw power. No grace, no elegance, no technique. He overwhelms with spiritual pressure and brute strength. That's... not my path. Even if I had his talent, I wouldn't follow it."
Her hands paused for a second, then resumed.
"I see. And what would you do instead?"
"If Zaraki faced someone with equal power but a master of the sword... he'd lose. Easily."
Unohana smiled faintly, but she neither agreed nor disagreed. She, more than anyone, knew that men like Zaraki were rare; monsters of spiritual force. But Akashi's words were not wrong.
He wasn't wrong, but how many people equal to Zaraki exist in the world?
After a moment, she asked, "I've noticed you've been glancing above me... as if seeing something invisible. What is it?"
Akashi's expression didn't change, but his eyes flicked upward again,
"It's a specialty of my Zanpakutō I recently discovered," He admitted, not much of a secret really, "It lets me see... the darkness within people. A spiritual representation of it."
Unohana's hand paused mid-air. Her gaze became sharper, "And what did you see that held your attention so much?"
Akashi pondered a moment while eyeing her darkness. Then, with quiet honesty, he said, "If I had to describe it... I'd say it's a lovely, deadly flower. A sleeping flower."
For the first time, Unohana was silent.
"You..." She whispered, more to herself. Then she gave him a strange look. "You have an amazing gift."
"It's special," He said, his smile gentle as he thought of Kurayami, such a gorgeous and unique Zanpakuto... It's truly lovely.
She tilted her head, "Are you not surprised I'm 'Deadly', despite being the Captain of the medical division?"
"Not really," Akashi replied with a small shrug, "I'm combat-oriented too, yet I'm seeking mastery of Kaidō. Because... how do I say it?"
He looked down at his body. "I fall a lot. So when I do, I want to stand back up again."
Unohana looked at him, and this time, the smile that formed was not professional; it was warm.
"I heard you used to ask for Kaidō advice often, back when you were sent here after training," She said.
"I did," Said Akashi, giving her a curious glance, as if to ask if she was implying what he thought she was implying.
"Well," She said, rising to her feet, "I can give you some advice."
His eyes lit up immediately.
And just like that, Unohana found herself at the center of a tidal wave of questions; one after another, ranging from the manipulation of spirit threads to the cellular interaction between Kaidō and the soul's inner structure.
It should have been annoying.
But to her surprise... it wasn't.
She answered each one with limitless patience, sometimes amused, sometimes intrigued.
Unlike others who were overwhelmed by Akashi's curiosity, she welcomed it; and fueled it.
At last, when she finished the final wound, she gently patted his arm.
"You're always welcome here if you want more advice," she said softly.
Akashi sat up, eyes brighter than they'd been in weeks. He gave her a small, respectful nod.
"Thank you, Captain."
Unohana watched him leave with a faint, rare smile on her lips.
Akashi stepped into the sunlight outside, a bandage across his chest, but his heart lighter than it had been in weeks. The Voices in his mind were distant now; muted, almost silent.
Come to think of it, it's only now that he realized just how approachable the Captains now.
He hadn't been here long, yet he had already met and talked to Captain Aizen, Tosen, Soon-to-be Captain Gin, Zaraki, Soi Fon, and even Unohana, 'As I thought, being friendly is definitely the right approach.'
Today had been... a good day.
But now, it was time.
It was time to delve into the abyss once more; to enter his inner world, face its horrors, and call forth new ones into being.
After submitting his routine reports to the Fifth Division barracks, Akashi slipped away unnoticed.
There are many benefits to joining Aizen, and this is just one of them. Seireitei is his playground.
If he wants you to believe something, you'll believe it, thus his steps easily led him out of Seireitei undetected.
His destination: one of the mid-tier districts of Rukongai. Not too lawless, not too secure. A place without relevance.
The house looked like nothing. Faded paint, rotten shoji panels, weeds pressing up from beneath cracked stone.
To any other soul, it was merely an abandoned home, one of hundreds scattered across the district. But to Akashi, it was soon to serve as the doorway to something grand.
He entered with care, closing the door behind him with a gentle click. Dust clung to the air like a suspended breath.
He descended into the basement; a featureless stone chamber with no windows and no light.
Then, he drew Kurayami.
As the blade touched the ground, Ink thumped from the point of contact.
It slithered outward in veins, then washed over the room like floodwater.
Ink blossomed on the walls, floor, and ceiling; each sealed in darkness.
The space became isolated, severed from the outside world.
And then, darkness claimed him.
When Akashi opened his eyes again, he stood on the central platform of his inner world, surrounded by the infinite ocean of Ink.
Kurayami, in its truest form, rested in the center as a black orb pulsing with darkness.
From it flowed down the darkness it devours; like a fountain, pouring down into the ocean.
It was as if cause and effect themselves tied their fates to the sword, allowing Kurayami to ignore space and consume their darkness and thoughts.
And floating in the vast Ink were eggs. Some throbbed with potential, others inert.
All of them were born of Akashi's ceaseless writings and the dark thoughts in people's hearts.
The Ink is the fuel. The eggs are the ideas.
His gaze drifted across the surface. Most of the eggs were still underdeveloped; too few ideas to bring them to term.
But one stood out, its shell cracked and pulsing with strange life. Inside was Voldemort, still forming; an experiment to see how much his writing can change.
But Akashi's attention moved on. To the largest egg. Not the strongest. Not the deadliest. But one of the most important.
It hatched in silence.
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