BLEACH: UNOHANA RETSU IS MY WIFE

Darkness.

The sky above Seireitei was heavy—gloomy and terrifying.

Silence.

As war flames engulfed the soul society, the stillness before the Zhuwa Gate felt ominously unnatural.

The Quincies, having descended from the "Empire of Light" in the world of the living alongside their supreme emperor—Yhwach—were now gripped by despair.

Their eyes were fixed on the man seated quietly atop a grotesque throne—crafted from countless Quincy hearts—and terror swelled within them.

That man… Araki, cloaked in silver and death, had offered them a "choice."

A cruel one.

To survive by offering their comrades' heads?

Or betray their god-emperor and raise their weapons against him?

Was that truly a choice?

The Quincies understood: it was a farce. A deception.

Araki's gesture was an illusion. The only real choice was—

Die, or die a traitor.

History would remember them as nothing more than the Quincies who invaded Seireitei through the Zhuwa Gate, betrayers cursed and spat upon by future generations.

And yet, Araki remained silent—as if mercifully allowing them time to decide.

But none could speak. None could act.

So silence stretched across the battlefield like a suffocating shroud.

Then—

Plop. Plop. Plop...

Soft sounds emerged amidst the silence. Rhythmic. Steady. Echoing like drums from the throne.

But they were not drums.

The Quincies recognized the sound.

Hearts.

Not symbolic ones—their literal, beating hearts, somehow resonating beneath Araki.

A grotesque chorus of dread.

"You bastard! Is this a joke?!"

"I'll never betray my comrades! Never betray His Majesty!"

"Evil god of death—DIE!!!"

At last, one Quincy's sanity shattered.

Screaming, he raised his spirit bow—desperate to kill Araki and end this hell.

But Araki only watched him. Calm. Cold. Almost... pitying.

"Is this your choice? How pathetic…"

With a silver flash, he unsheathed his Zanpakutō and plunged it through the left armrest of his throne—the one made of pulsing hearts.

Splatter.

An explosion of blood echoed his action.

Quincies across the battlefield dropped like puppets with their strings severed.

Each heart on the throne—connected to a soul.

And none of them had chosen.

Ironically, the Quincy who raised his bow... still lived.

"Why…?" he whispered, shaking. His fingers trembled on the string.

Why had he been spared?

He wanted to kill Araki. He had the will. But deep down, he feared that his arrow would strike the throne—killing a friend instead.

Araki spoke again:

"So many hearts... I don't know which one is yours.

But don't worry…

I can try them one by one."

With a calm sweep of his blade—another flash.

More Quincies collapsed, clutching their chests.

Still, that lone Quincy remained.

And so, he broke.

Sobbing, he lowered his bow and turned his eyes from Araki.

And as he did...

The silver sword stopped.

"Ha… ha… ha ha ha..."

The 'sad' and 'desolate' laughter spilled endlessly from the mouth of the Quincy. His eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted and hideous like that of a demon. Though he glared at Araki with burning hatred, his knees were forced to the ground—his body betraying his submission to the man seated on the throne.

"Plop! Plop..."

After the first Quincy knelt before Araki, a wave of others followed...

In that moment, it resembled the spectacle of loyal subjects worshipping their sovereign. The once-proud Quincies bowed before the King of Heart, submitting at last.

Yet not all yielded.

Some stiffened their necks, their spines like steel, glaring up at Araki defiantly.

They disdained surrender. Death did not frighten them.

They were the proud soldiers of Yhwach, the Sternritter elite who swore to kneel only to their emperor.

And the only reason these warriors held back their blades was because Araki gripped the lives of countless of their comrades in his palm.

"Very good..."

Araki sat upon his grotesque throne of hearts, receiving the submission of the masses. Then he raised a hand—to bestow the ultimate 'honor' upon those who dared defy him.

Eternal slumber.

Glass-colored light bloomed across the sky. Threads of light burst forward, slicing through the hearts of every Quincy who had refused to kneel.

One by one, they dropped.

Still standing.

Eyes closed.

Souls departed.

"Go retrieve your comrades' heads. Or..."

"Take the life of your false emperor in my name."

"And do not attempt deception—"

"—for I am always watching you."

As Araki spoke, he and the mound of hearts beneath him vanished into the thick mist.

"Ah!!!"

The moment his presence faded, the Quincies lifted their heads and screamed in anguish.

They knew.

They had no choice.

Whether for their own sake or for the lives of others—they could only move forward through this nightmare.

But what they hadn't realized was that this…

…was only the beginning.

The moment Araki tore out their hearts, their fates were no longer their own.

"This is Eleventh Division Captain Araki. All enemy Quincies at West Gate have been suppressed."

"Yhwach is not present at this location."

Upon leaving, Araki immediately activated Tenji Kura (天挺空羅)—a high-level Binding Art (Bakudō #77)—to relay battlefield information to all captains of the Gotei 13.

Even among the many talents of the Soul Society...

Few could use such advanced Kidō as easily as Araki.

For most, anything beyond Bakudō #70 requires immense spiritual pressure control. But Araki, empowered by the Fullbring Rei-son Drive, wields Tenji Kura almost as a casual communication tool.

A mark of his terrifying skill.

"Now then..."

"Time to begin cleaning up my battlefield."

He glanced across the bloodied ground—strewn with Quincy corpses—his eyes narrowing.

"The Quincy are a treasure..."

"Even in death, their corpses still serve a purpose."