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Kuchiki Manor.
Moyu stared at Byakuya Kuchiki with a blank expression, his hand already drifting toward the hilt of his Zanpakutō, poised just half a heartbeat away from driving the blade through his cousin's chest right there in the middle of his living room.
What Byakuya had just said was nothing less than a perfect embodiment of misfortune descending from the heavens—pure calamity, the kind that crashes onto your head while you're quietly minding your own business, with no warning, no logic, and no mercy.
"That's the situation," Byakuya said, his voice composed and distant, each word as calm as a lake untouched by wind. "Due to Shiba Isshin's disappearance, I recommended you for the position of captain."
He raised his porcelain teacup, taking a slow, deliberate sip with the same detachment he might use while discussing the weather, as if he hadn't just upended Moyu's entire life with a single sentence.
"Given the unusual nature of the 10th Division, the Captain-Commander approved your assessment request. It will take place tomorrow."
Moyu exhaled deeply, the sound thick with exasperation. "You presumptuous bastard... Would it have killed you to ask my opinion first?"
Life had been peaceful. As the Third Seat of the Fourth Division, he had achieved a rare equilibrium, his days filled with healing duties and leisure, his afternoons often spent by rivers with a fishing rod in hand—existence in its most tranquil and satisfying form. And now, without warning, they wanted to make him a captain.
He could only wonder what kind of karma he had accumulated in a past life to deserve punishment of this magnitude.
"Becoming a captain grants significantly greater influence within Seireitei," Byakuya continued as he set the cup down with a faint porcelain click, his eyes unreadable beneath their veil of cold logic. "With that authority, Nilu's presence may no longer need to be hidden."
That single statement froze Moyu in place, his thoughts halting mid-stream as he finally understood the purpose behind Byakuya's maneuvering, the reason this had all been set into motion without his consent.
A long silence hung between them, the quiet in the room thick enough to cut.
"...Thank you," Moyu finally murmured, voice low but steady, carrying far more weight than the words alone conveyed.
---
The following morning arrived beneath a clear sky painted in gentle blue.
Moyu and Byakuya stepped onto the stone pathways near the Shin'ō Academy grounds, golden sunlight tracing delicate patterns across the tiled roofs while a mild breeze stirred their uniforms, the fabric whispering in rhythm with the rustling leaves.
Perched atop Moyu's shoulder, Nilu surveyed the academy's interior with wide, curious eyes, her gaze sparkling with innocent wonder.
"There are so many people here," she said brightly, barely able to contain her excitement as she pointed out faces and landmarks with childlike enthusiasm.
Had it not been for the dangers lurking in Noble Street, he would never have brought her. The noble families of Seireitei often hid their most lethal blades beneath layers of etiquette and ritual, and Moyu saw no need to offer them a target.
Fortunately, he wasn't entirely without protection. Urahara Kisuke's third-generation camouflage watch was currently fastened to Nilu's wrist, and between the device and Nilu's own spiritual suppression, even Yamamoto Genryūsai would have struggled to detect her Hollow nature.
Her spiritual concealment surpassed that of nearly every Shinigami within the Gotei 13.
"This was my training ground once," Moyu said quietly as his gaze swept across the academy's wide courtyard, taking in familiar landmarks and faces. Though not much time had passed since he graduated, the distance between his former self and who he had become now felt immeasurable.
A familiar voice rang out, warm with familiarity.
"Brother Moyu!"
Rukia came bounding toward him with quick steps, her cheeks faintly flushed. "Is it true? Are you really taking the captain's assessment today?"
Her voice radiated anticipation, eyes glowing with admiration and pride, making it painfully clear she wanted his success even more than he did.
Moyu nodded with a small smile and ruffled her hair in a rare, affectionate gesture. "As long as three captains approve, I'll be appointed."
Rukia's smile deepened, her joy almost palpable as pride shone through her expression as though it were her own trial.
Nearby, several of their former classmates looked on, expressions shifting between disbelief, admiration, and confusion. To them, Moyu had only recently graduated, yet here he was, standing at the very edge of captaincy while they were still awaiting deployment.
Among the group, only one figure held his gaze with something more than awe—Abarai Renji.
Renji's sharp eyes locked onto him like twin blades, and his voice cut through the murmurs. "I'll surpass you, Moyu. Just wait."
Moyu allowed himself a faint smile. "I'll be waiting."
Renji's potential was vast and unrefined. What he needed now wasn't encouragement, but time—and the kind of pain only battle could carve into someone.
Farther back, a wave of murmuring passed through the assembled students, voices rising like a tide.
"Kuchiki Moyu, from the same clan as Captain Byakuya—he got promoted to Third Seat right out of graduation, and now he's becoming a captain?"
"Are all Kuchikis this absurdly powerful?"
"Two captains in one family? That's just unfair."
Moyu paid no mind to their speculation. After parting with Rukia and the others, he made his way steadily toward Training Ground No. 1, his footsteps slow but unshaken as he prepared to cross the threshold into something far more public—and political.
Normally, the captain's assessment would have been held within the First Division barracks, but due to the recent unrest in Seireitei and growing uncertainty even among the students, Yamamoto had altered the venue. By holding the event at the academy, he hoped to inspire faith through spectacle.
As Moyu arrived, dozens of Kidō Corps soldiers had already erected multiple containment barriers around the perimeter, ready to absorb or deflect the fallout of a battle between high-level Shinigami.
"Go," Byakuya said, his voice clipped and cold, an icy facade Moyu had long since grown used to.
He stepped into the arena, immediately feeling the weight of several captain-level Reiatsu signatures bearing down on him like a silent judgment. Nearly every division had sent a representative—except for Ukitake, still bedridden, Sui-Feng, whose absence was standard, and Yamamoto himself.
For many of the onlooking students, it was their first time seeing so many captains gathered in one place, and their awe was almost tangible, buzzing in the air like electric static.
"Kuchiki Moyu, your assessment will be conducted by—" Kyoraku Shunsui's familiar drawl cut cleanly through the anticipation.
With Yamamoto absent, the Eighth Division captain had taken the role of presiding officer.
"Unohana Retsu of Squad Four, Byakuya Kuchiki of Squad Six, and..."
His smile twitched as though suppressing amusement.
"Captain Kurotsuchi Mayuri of the Twelfth."
Kyoraku instantly understood the Captain-Commander's intention. By appointing Byakuya and Unohana—both closely connected to Moyu—as two of the three examiners, he had already all but revealed his approval.
Even on the stage, Byakuya's stoic expression shifted slightly in recognition of the political move.
Moyu's brow twitched in response. They couldn't have made this favoritism more obvious if they'd written it on a banner.
He stepped forward and approached Byakuya, who stood ready and calm.
"Didn't expect you to be one of my examiners," Moyu said, tone dry and laced with disbelief.
Byakuya adjusted his stance, voice cooling instantly. "Do not assume I will hold back. Even if we share blood, the standards of a captain must be met."
Moyu raised an eyebrow and waved lazily, responding without hesitation. "Relax. Go all out. I'll do the same."
Their Zanpakutōs sang as steel met steel.
---
Byakuya vanished in a flicker of Shunpo, his speed drawing gasps from the onlookers.
"He's too fast—I couldn't even see him move!"
The students cried out in awe as the captains collided, their first exchange executed in Hakuda, the rapid barrage of bare-handed strikes ringing out like thunder.
Byakuya's eyes narrowed as he realized Moyu's strength exceeded expectations, and yet, somewhere beneath the pressure, a flicker of quiet pride stirred.
His once-sheltered cousin had become a warrior.
"You shouldn't let yourself get distracted during a fight," came Moyu's voice from behind.
Before Byakuya could turn, Moyu's fist drove into his chest, sending him flying across the field in a clean arc.
A hush fell over the students as the implications settled in.
"Did... Did he just knock Captain Byakuya away?"
"Was that serious?"
"Don't tell me Moyu's stronger than him already...?"
Their confusion was palpable, but the captains watching from above exchanged meaningful looks.
Byakuya had not held back—not significantly, at least. The blow had been genuine.
Moyu's Reiatsu had already broken into the level of seated captaincy. He was no longer a rising star; he was already in orbit.
"I concede," Byakuya said calmly, brushing dust from his sleeves as he stepped back.
"You're finished already?"
"He didn't even draw his sword..."
Kyoraku stepped forward with a lazy smile. "That was quick. I was hoping for a bit more of a show."
Byakuya shook his head, gaze unwavering. "The Kuchiki do not draw blades without purpose. I have seen what I needed."
He stepped aside with composure.
"Captain Unohana," Kyoraku said, turning. "Your turn."
"There's no need," Unohana said with a softness that nevertheless carried absolute finality. "During his time in the Fourth Division, I often sparred with Moyu. I could not defeat him then. I see no reason I would now."
Shock rippled through the crowd.
"She... She admits she'd lose?"
"But isn't she just a healer?"
"Maybe she's not great at fighting..."
Kyoraku resisted the urge to cover his face with both hands. These students had no idea they were dismissing the original Kenpachi herself.
"With two captains bowing out, this puts me in a bind," Kyoraku muttered, his attention shifting toward the final examiner—Kurotsuchi Mayuri.
"Captain Kurotsuchi. Looks like you're up."
Mayuri released a garbled, metallic laugh. "Ah, yes. This will be... a most stimulating encounter."
Something in his tone made Kyoraku's gut tighten. Mayuri rarely showed interest in battle unless he intended something cruel.
Before Kyoraku could intervene, Mayuri had already stepped inside the barrier.
"Well, well, Mr. Moyu," he said with mock familiarity. "We meet again. Still considering my offer?"
Moyu's expression darkened, his disgust thinly veiled. Few individuals repulsed him to this extent, but Mayuri had long since earned his place near the top of that list.
"I already told you. Not happening."
Mayuri paused, as if surprised to be refused so casually.
"Heh. Very well."
His grotesque smile widened into something truly serpentine. "If you won't cooperate willingly... I'll simply extract what I need."
With a flick of his wrist, his Zanpakutō emitted a putrid, sickly glow.
"Open wide... Konjiki Ashisogi Jizō."
The warped, triple-bladed weapon shimmered into view, its infantile face splitting into a sinister grin as its gaping mouth opened and unleashed a thick, violet miasma into the arena.
Poison surged outward, curling through the barrier like living fog.
Moyu narrowed his eyes.
So this was the kind of game Mayuri wanted to play, and he would make absolutely certain the man wouldn't enjoy it.
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