Marrying Unohana Retsu from Bleach

Darkness hung heavy over the Seireitei. The sky was a bruised, oppressive purple, mirroring the turmoil below. 

The relentless spread of war painted the Soul Society in hues of fire and shadow, making the unnatural silence before the East Gate all the more unsettling.

The Quincy, who had invaded from the Lichtreich—the 'Empire of Light' in the human world—alongside their 'Emperor,' Yhwach, were now gripped by despair. 

Their gazes were fixed on the figure seated upon a macabre throne, a throne crafted from the still-beating hearts of countless Quincy. Terror and dread clung to them like a shroud.

The man on the throne, Araki, Captain of the 11th Division, had presented them with a choice, but it was a cruel mockery of one. 

To trade their comrades' heads for a chance at survival or to turn their blades against their own emperor at his instigation… Both options were abhorrent, a stain upon their Quincy pride.

"A choice? What choice is there?" The grim truth echoed in the hearts of every Quincy present. Araki's offer was a twisted illusion, a single path disguised as two. 

Whichever they chose, they would be branded traitors, forever scorned in the annals of Quincy history.

Araki remained silent, seemingly granting them time to decide. But the weight of the impossible decision pressed down on them, silencing any response.

A heavy, oppressive silence descended upon the East Gate. The distant roars of battle gradually faded, amplifying the quiet until it became almost deafening.

Plop. Plop. Plop…

In the stillness, a new sound emerged, amplified by the silence. It was a rhythmic, insistent beat, like a slow, morbid drum.

Plop... plop.

The Quincy knew it wasn't a drum. It was the synchronized thumping of their own hearts, a sound that once signified life and hope now became a constant, grating reminder of their predicament, each beating a hammer blow against their fraying nerves.

"You bastard! Are you mocking us?!" A Quincy's composure finally shattered. He could no longer bear the sight of the throne, the stolen hearts, or the weight of Araki's gaze. 

He could no longer endure the relentless, internal drumbeat; with a strangled cry, he drew his Heilig Pfeil, his spiritual arrow aimed at Araki. "I will not betray my comrades! I will not betray His Majesty! You evil Shinigami, go to hell!"

Araki regarded the Quincy with unnerving calm, a hint of pity in his eyes. "This is your choice? How pathetic."

Swish!

With a flash of silver, Araki drew his Zanpakuto and, in a swift backhand motion, plunged it into the throne of hearts; the blade pierced through several hearts, pinning them to the left armrest.

Puff, puff, puff,

As if in gruesome response, the impaled hearts burst, one after another. 

Simultaneously, countless Quincy clutched at their chests, vomiting blood and collapsing like puppets with their strings cut; in an instant, a significant number were silenced forever.

Yet, tragically, Quincy, who had dared to draw his bow, remained alive.

"Why?" he gasped, his voice choked with horror as he witnessed the carnage around him; his hand, still clutching his bow, trembled violently. 

Despite his resolve, despite his initial defiance, he couldn't bring himself to loosen the arrow. Fear held him captive—fear that his arrow might strike the throne and might inadvertently destroy the heart of another comrade.

"My apologies," Araki said, his voice smooth and devoid of any remorse. "There are simply too many hearts here; I can't be certain which one is yours." He paused, a cruel glint in his eyes. "But it doesn't matter. I can try them one by one. Eventually, I'll find it."

With another fluid motion, Araki's Zanpakuto flashed across the throne. 

Another wave of Quincy fell, clutching their chests, their lives extinguished. The Quincy, who had first defied Araki, remained untouched, a twisted mercy.

Despair washed over him; he lowered his bow, the weight of his fallen comrades crushing his spirit. Araki's blade stilled as the bow was lowered.

"Ha… ha… ha… hahahaha." A hollow, desolate laughter escaped the Quincy's lips; his eyes were bloodshot, and his face contorted in a mask of anguish and hatred. 

He glared at Araki, but his knees remained pressed firmly against the ground, a testament to his forced submission.

Plop! Plop. 

The beating of the hearts continued, a constant, sickening rhythm.

One by one, other Quincys followed suit, their pride broken; they kneeled before Araki, a scene reminiscent of courtiers paying homage to their emperor. 

A group of proud Quincy warriors who had sworn allegiance to Yhwach now kneeled before the King of Hearts.

However, a handful remained standing, their backs straight, their gazes fixed on Araki with unwavering defiance; they refused to submit. 

They were subjects of Yhwach, and they would kneel to no other, yet even these staunch loyalists held back from attacking, knowing that Araki held the lives of their comrades in his grasp.

"Very well," Araki said, accepting their forced homage. He raised a hand, granting a twisted form of honor to those who chose death over surrender: eternal sleep. 

A wave of glazed light erupted from his Zanpakuto, forming streams of light that pierced through the bodies of the defiant Quincy. One by one, they fell, their eyes closing in finality.

"Now," Araki said, his voice echoing across the desolate scene. "Go and retrieve the heads of your fallen comrades. Or," he added, his voice laced with chilling promise, "take the life of your false emperor for me."

"Do not attempt any trickery. I am always watching."

With those words, Araki vanished, the throne of hearts disappearing with him into the swirling mists.

"Aaaahhh!" The remaining Quincy erupted in cries of anguish and frustration. They knew they were trapped. 

Whether for their own survival or for the sake of their fallen comrades, they had no choice but to obey.

Little did they know, this was only the beginning of their torment. From the moment their hearts were torn from their chests, their fates had ceased to be their own.

"This is Araki, Captain of the 11th Division," his voice echoed via Tenteikūra, reaching the ears of every captain in the Gotei 13. "The Quincy at the East Gate has been suppressed. The Quincy 'Emperor' Yhwach is not present."

Even in the Seireitei, a place overflowing with exceptional talent, someone who could consistently utilize the 77th level of Kidō was a rarity. 

The spiritual pressure control required for Kidō of that caliber, both Bakudō and Hadō, was immense. 

But Araki, blessed by the power of his Fullbring, used Tenteikūra as readily as others might use a simple communication device, ensuring the swift dissemination of crucial information to the Gotei 13 leadership.

"Now," Araki murmured to himself, appearing amidst the carnage of the battlefield. "It's time to begin the cleanup." He surveyed the scattered Quincy corpses, his eyes narrowing.

The Quincy, even in death, were a resource, each body holding potential uses.

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