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The clash of chains rang out like thunder through the cavernous expanse of the Great Infernal Hell, each metallic impact echoing in relentless succession, its sound carving through the suffocating void with a chilling resonance that lingered in the air long after the noise itself had faded. The oppressive silence that followed was deeper than before, as though the entire prison had exhaled and then held its breath again.
Within one of the lowest cells, Kurotsuchi Mayuri lifted his head with deliberate slowness, his expression unreadable, the pallid sheen of his skin catching the dim, unnatural glow that barely illuminated the stone around him. His golden eyes, bright yet vacant, peered calmly through the shadows, narrowing with a predatory awareness sharpened by years of isolation.
"So," he rasped, the dryness of his voice making the word brittle with contempt, "it's you..."
Tsunayashiro Tokinada emerged from the veil of shadow with the measured grace of someone who knew precisely how far to step without waking the wrong ghosts. Though his voice had once held a certain feminine lilt, it now sounded muted and lifeless, as if dulled by distance or buried under layers of practiced civility stretched thin.
"Captain Kurotsuchi," he announced, coming to a halt before the glowing seals, "I've come under the jurisdiction of noble authority—certain permissions and... privileges granted to me through channels not easily discussed."
He left much unsaid. There were secrets not even the imprisoned should hear. Tokinada's gaze, steady though edged with restraint, betrayed an undercurrent of unease—a quiet, undeniable fear. Even in chains, Kurotsuchi Mayuri radiated something feral and forbidden.
"I wonder," Tokinada continued, voice slipping into a silken cadence laced with something almost hypnotic, "whether you might be interested in leaving this place."
His tone wove temptation into every syllable, drawing the invitation out like the flick of a serpent's tongue. But whatever he'd hoped for—surprise, eagerness, desperation—found no home in Mayuri's eyes, which remained cold and unmoving, still as a winter pond glazed in ice.
"It must have cost you a great deal to find me down here," Mayuri murmured, his voice rougher now, as though grit and rust had worn it down. Each word rasped like a blade being honed in his throat.
He tilted his head slightly, as if sifting through the unspoken calculations behind Tokinada's visit. "Let me think... You came for a reason, no doubt carefully measured. You wouldn't have ventured this far just to grant a favor, and knowing you, you'd never ask me to act against my own inclinations. Which means you need something. Urgently."
The gleam in his gaze sharpened as a thought slid into place.
"It must be related to recent events," he said, the words falling from his lips with quiet certainty.
Without warning, he leaned forward, pressing his face close to the shimmering bars of Kidō, the ethereal glow casting jagged shadows across the masklike planes of his face.
"Kuchiki Moyu... This is about him, isn't it?"
The question struck like a blow. Tokinada flinched, his pupils dilating in involuntary shock. He hadn't anticipated Mayuri would see through him so effortlessly, so precisely.
"Impressive," Mayuri purred, lips curling into something far removed from joy, a smile honed by obsession and madness. "You're in far deeper than you thought. The Tsunayashiro clan lacks the strength to handle a threat like him, doesn't it?"
He chuckled then—a dry, uncanny sound, like laughter born from old wounds and deeper knowledge, a rasp echoing from somewhere behind layers of old incisions and twisted curiosity.
"So," he went on, the smile widening, "you exhausted your noble privileges, descended into this pit of sin and ash, and came crawling to the monster you once sought to contain."
Tokinada inhaled, slow and measured, forcing composure back into his limbs. He was no stranger to manipulation, but the man before him played a different kind of game—a game made of scalpel edges and warped logic. Compared to Mayuri, Tokinada almost felt... conventional.
"I'm not here to beg," he said, cutting through the mire of insinuation. "I'm here to propose a collaboration."
"Collaboration..." Mayuri repeated, testing the word like a scientist rolling a sample between his fingers, his long nail tapping rhythmically against the side of his head. The sound echoed faintly, like bone striking glass. "A fascinating prospect."
He paused, letting the silence stretch, then offered a sharp grin.
"If you've brought the right tools... I might find it worthwhile to analyze such a dangerous specimen."
A flicker passed through Tokinada's features—a flash of satisfaction barely concealed. His lips curved in the faintest mockery of a smile.
"To our partnership, then," he said softly.
A whisper of Kidō began to stir around his hand. Ancient symbols glowed faintly as he pressed his palm against the heart of the sealing incantation. The energy rippled, then spread like a veil being lifted. A gate-shaped opening bloomed across the front of the cell, the layered barriers parting with reluctant grace.
He hadn't sealed it behind him. Not when dealing with someone like this.
Mayuri stepped forward into the golden shimmer of the opening. Every movement was purposeful, like a puppet master winding the string around the neck of something unseen. The expression on his face twisted with growing satisfaction, the grin blooming wide, revealing the full curvature of derangement.
"How ironic," he whispered with a laugh that stretched into a jagged, breathless rasp.
Tokinada didn't respond. He simply raised a hand in silent instruction.
"Hurry. The longer the seal remains undone, the more eyes it draws."
Mayuri's gaze swept backward, toward the deep corridor behind him. A flicker passed through his eyes—not sentiment, but calculation touched faintly with envy. There were things even madness could remember.
Then, with a tilt of his head, he passed through the barrier.
Once more, the Infernal Hell fell into its timeless silence.
---
Rukongai – Northern West Third District, Shiba Estate
"You mean," Moyu asked, voice edged with skepticism, "you still haven't completely mastered your Bankai?"
He stood before Shiba Kaien, who sat stiffly among folded linens and cooling air, his body bound in clean bandages, each one a testament to the recent battle. The clash with his own materialized Zanpakutō—Mr. Ke, a creature of armor and rage—had left him ragged.
Even with Moyu's Kaidō, recovery had been glacial. Something about the wounds resisted healing. Something about the Bankai itself was... wrong.
"Nejibana's potential is extraordinary," Kaien admitted, wincing as he shifted. The pain danced behind his teeth, but it couldn't dim the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. "But my Reiatsu still isn't enough. I can't sustain Bankai for long—not yet."
He stood, slowly, and bowed low despite the agony tugging at his side.
"This time... I truly owe you, Captain Moyu."
Moyu lifted a hand to wave off the gratitude. "I only came because your brother asked. That's all."
Shiba Isshin had made the request personally, and Moyu—pragmatic but not heartless—had agreed. He didn't regret it. The Shiba family repaid kindness with conviction. That was something he could respect. He had no time for ingrates.
"If there's anything I can ever do," Kaien said, rising again, voice firm, "I'll repay you, no matter what."
"I will too!" Kūkaku shouted, lifting her chin in solidarity beside her brother.
"No need to get dramatic," Moyu replied with a flick of his wrist, then turned toward the estate's outer wall. "You may live in Rukongai now, but that doesn't mean your enemies have vanished. Hyenas always circle wounded prey."
Kaien glanced toward the horizon. Beyond the estate walls, Reiatsu signatures stirred, disorganized and pulsing with opportunistic hunger. His fists clenched, reopening shallow cuts beneath the bandages.
"Have we really fallen so far...?"
Moyu's gaze remained fixed ahead. "Only one strength matters," he said coolly. "Your own. Keep retreating, and you'll only teach them to bite harder. The world doesn't respect surrender—it feeds on it."
Kaien was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, his eyes sharpened. He turned without a word, walking toward the gate with a steady rhythm in his steps.
"Brother..." Kūkaku called after him, her voice soft with concern, but she made no move to stop him. She understood. If the Shiba family failed to rise now, they would sink forever into history's shadows.
Outside the Shiba Estate
A small assembly of noble Shinigami waited beyond the gates, clad in ceremonial robes that glinted under the sun. Their smiles were polite, their offers rehearsed, but the hunger in their eyes betrayed them.
"Kaien," one said, voice smooth as oil, "our proposal still stands. Merge the Shiba into our house. Let us protect your people in exchange for your authority."
"The four great noble powers aren't something your clan can maintain any longer."
They spoke with the measured calm of those who believed they had already won.
Kaien stepped out, his posture straight, his bandages bleeding through but forgotten.
"I've considered your offer," he said quietly. "But circumstances have changed."
His eyes hardened. "The Shiba family will surrender nothing. Leave now, while you still have your pride."
Their composure cracked. Several nobles exchanged uneasy glances, confusion blooming into irritation.
"Have you lost your sense?" one of them growled. "We're extending mercy. If you refuse it, we won't be so gracious again."
"The power you hold isn't yours to keep," another warned. "You're clinging to something already dead."
But Kaien didn't respond with words.
He let his Reiatsu speak instead.
With a soundless roar, his energy surged forth—a tsunami of aquamarine light that flooded the sky, engulfing the estate and every soul that stood before its walls. It pressed down like a mountain, merciless and suffocating.
The nobles gasped, eyes bulging, bodies collapsing beneath the crushing weight. They fell to their knees, some convulsing, all broken beneath the force of a captain-level spiritual pressure they hadn't imagined possible.
Kaien only called it back once they hovered at the brink of unconsciousness.
The silence that followed was thick with disbelief.
"He's this strong now?" one whispered.
"Why did the Shibas ever leave Seireitei?"
"His Reiatsu... it's monstrous..."
None of them had the strength to challenge him now. None dared.
Kaien stepped forward, eyes unreadable.
"You've overstayed your welcome," he said.
And they fled.
---
Seireitei
Throughout the Court of Pure Souls, heads turned.
In the Sixth Division, Byakuya Kuchiki stood alone by the window, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Moyu went to Rukongai..." he murmured, his voice quiet, laced with concern. "I hope this doesn't escalate."
In the Fifth, Aizen Sōsuke stopped writing. He looked toward the sky, his expression unreadable.
"So," he said to no one, "another piece enters the board."
He glanced down at the single word scribbled on his page: testi.
Elsewhere, Kyoraku Shunsui exhaled through his nose and set aside his drink.
"Back to the grind again," he muttered, already rising. "And I'd just finished cleaning up after Mayuri."
---
Tenth Division
Matsumoto Rangiku slammed her hands on Moyu's desk, fury blazing behind her bloodshot eyes.
"Fourteen days!" she shouted. "Half a damn month, and I've been handling everything!"
She jabbed a finger toward her face, her frustration boiling over. "You see these eyes? These are dark circles, Captain! And this—this is blood in my sclera! You've turned me into a sleepless, hollow-eyed wreck!"
She leaned in closer, her tone dropping into a kind of dramatic despair. "Do you know what it does to a woman to go ten days without sleep? It ruins us."
Moyu said nothing.
Rangiku, determined to break through his cold indifference, reached forward and grabbed his shoulders.
Just then, the door creaked open.
A junior Shinigami stood frozen, wide-eyed. Her face turned bright red.
Vice-Captain. Captain. Very close. Very... intimate.
The silence stretched like pulled thread.
"Did I just witness a scandal?" she whispered. "Is... is this how I die?"
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