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"Ya da ya da…"
A soft voice drifted from the space ahead as the air itself warped, clear and fluid like disturbed lake water, rippling outward in perfect waves. From within that distortion emerged Urahara Kisuke, dressed in his signature striped bucket hat and haori, followed by the towering Tessai Tsukabishi, both wrapped in spirit-concealing cloaks—another of Kisuke's clever inventions. Though he had promised Moyu one, it still hadn't been delivered, supposedly requiring further fine-tuning. Fanning himself with exaggerated ease, Kisuke smiled as if enjoying the reveal, the fan materializing from nowhere with his usual theatrics, raising his posture with feigned nonchalance. "Didn't expect Mr. Moyu's perception to be that sharp," he mused, voice light. But Moyu, expression flat, gave him nothing. "The cloak conceals well. I just lied to flush you out." Kisuke's smile froze mid-motion as his fanning hand halted, his posture stiffening like stone, caught in a moment of theatrical heartbreak. "Is a little trust between people so much to ask?" he muttered.
Moyu cut through the theatrics without mercy. "Enough games. You've seen the Vasto Lorde-class Arrancar. What do you know?" Kisuke's playful aura evaporated as he lowered his gaze, the brim of his hat casting shadow across his face. "At first, I assumed it was another Hueco Mundo escapee. But after seeing its structure, I realized we're facing something much more complicated. This isn't a conversation for open air. Follow me." With that, the four figures vanished into Shunpo, slipping from sight like ghosts into the shadows of the world.
Beneath the Urahara Shop, deep within the reinforced layers of Kidō enchantment that guarded his underground laboratory, Moyu stood in silence, his eyes calmly fixed on the man before him. "So what's your take?" he asked evenly, voice devoid of emotion. Despite the relatively short time Moyu had spent in this world, compared to the endless span of Shinigami lifespans, it had been long enough to form a baseline of trust—or at least mutual understanding—with Urahara Kisuke, though that didn't mean he intended to trust blindly. Not today. Not with what they'd seen.
"There are theories," Kisuke admitted after a long pause, eyes narrowing with the weight of unspoken memory. "And they go deeper than I'd hoped. The appearance of that Arrancar brought to mind the Hollowfication experiment from a hundred years ago—except this is more refined, more deliberate. A forced fusion between a Shinigami soul and something far more dangerous. If I had to guess, the one orchestrating this would be—" "Aizen Sōsuke," Moyu finished, the name falling from his mouth like a stone into still water. "He's always at the heart of things." Kisuke raised an eyebrow but offered no denial. "So you've already suspected."
From the very first moment they met, their conversations had moved in a quiet dance around unspoken truths, but Kisuke had always kept his cards close, refusing to show his full hand. Moyu pressed harder now, his voice cold and certain. "You weren't merely caught in that Hollowfication trap. Central 46 may be rotten, but even they wouldn't frame a random bystander. For multiple captains to be implicated, there had to be a scapegoat ready—someone with a history, someone whose fall served a purpose. You were never just a victim." Kisuke gave a slow, grim smile, acknowledging the accusation with weary resignation. "You've thought this through."
He shifted, arms folding as if shielding himself from the truth he'd buried too long. "I wasn't directly responsible, but I knew what was being researched. I'd already dabbled in combinations—human, Shinigami, Hollow. The theories were mine, even if Aizen pushed them further." His words hung in the air like a slow poison. "That's why I had to flee. Not because I was innocent, but because I was too close."
From the shadows, Shihouin Yoruichi's voice cut in, her tone low and resigned. "I stayed in this world to watch him. He's as dangerous as Aizen in his own way." Moyu nodded in agreement, eyes still fixed on Kisuke. "That much is clear." Urahara's smile returned, this time faint and brittle, as he reached into his robes and withdrew a sealed artifact bound with intricate layers of Kidō. He placed it on the table, his tone almost casual. "I suppose it's time I showed you the result of my work."
The seals peeled away like skin under a scalpel, releasing subtle pulses of Reiatsu that drifted like wind across the chamber. Within the box rested a dark container, which Kisuke opened with careful precision, revealing a single gemstone—blue-violet and luminous, radiating quiet, terrible power. "This is what Aizen is after," he murmured, voice barely audible. "Feel that? That's enough to twist the world." He paused for emphasis, then named it. "Hōgyoku."
He let the silence stretch before continuing. "It pushes both Shinigami and Hollow beyond their natural limits—evolution through transcendence. Aizen believes it's the key to reaching a higher form. That's why he's chasing me." He looked at Moyu. "Try sensing it yourself."
Moyu didn't hesitate. He released a thread of Reiatsu, letting it drift toward the gemstone.
And then the impossible happened.
The Hōgyoku recoiled.
It didn't merely respond—it shuddered, folding in on itself like a living creature in fear. Its energy drew inward, compressing into a fortified shell as if to shield its very essence from Moyu's touch. Urahara staggered back, eyes wide. "It's afraid?"
Even he, the creator, had never seen it react like this. He had always known the Hōgyoku possessed a will. But that it would shrink from someone—this someone—was beyond comprehension. He, the maker, had never been acknowledged. And yet it trembled before Moyu.
Moyu remained still, calmly observing its reaction. He understood what Urahara didn't. Kisuke believed the Hōgyoku was a tool to break the boundary between Hollow and Shinigami, but he was wrong. Its true nature was far more terrifying. The Hōgyoku granted the wishes of the soul—but only if the bearer possessed the power to realize those desires. Aizen had used it to evolve endlessly, believing it would elevate him beyond limits, but all it ever did was awaken potential already dormant. Even power had ceilings. Potential wasn't infinite.
Moyu knew his own nature too well to be tempted.
To him, Hōgyoku wasn't salvation. It was burden. Curse. Trouble in a gemstone's skin. He'd rather drink two cans of soda than mess with something that whispered back.
Still, the fact that it responded—feared—his Reiatsu made it dangerous.
"Fascinating," Kisuke said finally, recovering with a soft exhale. "Mr. Moyu, the more I see, the more you intrigue me." His eyes met Moyu's with a gleam of something unreadable.
Moyu took a cautious step back. "What's with that expression?"
"Relax," Kisuke chuckled. "Strictly academic interest."
"I doubt that."
"I think we should collaborate more deeply—"
A hand struck the back of his head with a heavy thud. Yoruichi loomed behind him, expression stone cold. "Focus, idiot."
Dragging his face off the table, Kisuke muttered, "You're always so harsh when it comes to him."
Moyu sighed. "Don't even think about it. It's not happening. Ever."
Resealing the gemstone in silence, Kisuke applied another Kidō barrier, his motions slower, more cautious. As the box closed, Moyu felt something odd—relief radiating from within, as if the Hōgyoku itself had sighed.
Was his Reiatsu truly that terrifying?
He looked down at his body, at the ink-black Reiatsu that now wrapped him since achieving Ultimate Reiatsu, thick and heavy like liquid night, devouring even light.
"No wonder," Kisuke muttered, gaze flicking to Moyu with a shiver. "If only we could run tests—"
"Don't finish that."
With a shrug, Kisuke shifted tone. "Back to the Arrancar. Its composition contains Shinigami essence. I believe it was once one of us—before being twisted into that thing."
Moyu nodded. "Only one person could produce such a creature."
Their voices converged.
"Aizen Sōsuke."
Despite all the loops, the paths always led back to him. Aizen was still orchestrating every turn. Nnoitra's death was known to him, and yet he still sent Xubai into the Human World, perhaps as a probe, perhaps to bait Kisuke, perhaps to push a new plan into motion. Possibly all three.
But Moyu didn't care to untangle it. Trying to outthink Aizen was futile. That path only led to ruin.
"I understand," he said, voice steady. "And thank you for your trust."
For a man like Kisuke, trust could never be given freely. It was a currency weighed in calculation, not sincerity.
And if Hōgyoku had taught Moyu anything today—it was that the most dangerous thing in the world wasn't power.
It was the man willing to create it.
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