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The sound of something heavy collapsing echoed through the courtyard of the Kuchiki estate as Senbonzakura, clad in the guise of a silent samurai, lay bound tightly in chains, utterly immobilized. "You're underestimating me," Moyu said as he approached with calm steps and knelt, his voice soft but heavy with finality. "Trying to run from someone who knows you inside out… You should've known better." Turning to Byakuya, he handed over the captured Zanpakutō spirit without ceremony. "He's yours now." Then, without waiting for response, Moyu walked off toward Noble Street, muttering, "Seireitei isn't in a good place right now."
Outside the Seventh Division barracks, flames raged with reckless abandon, devouring structures and painting the sky in choking black smoke. Komamura Sajin stood amidst the inferno, his armor shattered, fur scorched, helmet cracked—his entire form battered and worn. Before him, his Zanpakutō spirit—now a monstrous scourge cloaked in black fire—whipped the ground with flames, leveling buildings and tearing through the terrain with each movement. "Hah! Komamura! Where's all that righteous pride now?" the beast roared, each laugh vomiting fire, his glee maniacal and wild. "Come on! Fight me! End this farce if you can!"
Komamura gritted his teeth, smoke curling from his burnt fur, unprepared for such rebellion so soon after returning. Tenken had turned on him before he even reached his barracks. With no time to recover or access his Shikai, he was forced to fight barehanded, unable to pierce the flaming armor of his own spirit. Black fire licked across his frame, reducing his mane to ash and stealing the fight from his limbs. "That's all you've got?" Tenken snarled, stepping forward, eyes alight with hatred. "I'm sick of standing beside you. Once I kill you, I'll finally be free." A snap of his arm sent the whip crashing down, striking Komamura's blade and flinging it from his grasp. "Tch… damn it…"
Before he could react, a calm voice rang through the smoke from the ruined wall. "Truly disgraceful, Captain Komamura." The wolf-headed man's eyes widened. "Captain… Moyu?!" All pride fell away as Komamura dropped to one knee. "Please… help me stop him." Moyu gave a nod. "Of course." But the moment Tenken saw him, his wild grin shattered. He turned without a word and fled. Moyu blinked. "Huh. Was it something I said?" Standing beside the towering, scarred Komamura, Moyu looked deceptively harmless, yet Tenken had run without even testing him. "I have a theory," Komamura offered. "He must know what you're capable of." Moyu's expression sharpened. "In that case, we can't just let him run." Komamura's pupils contracted as Moyu's spiritual pressure erupted, drowning the field in a tidal wave of power—then he vanished in a blur of Shunpo.
Farther down, Tenken sprinted through shattered streets, panting, shoulders steaming, every fiber in his being screaming one truth: If I fight that man, I'll die for sure… But then a voice whispered beside him, soft and terrifying. "Oh? So that's what you think." Moyu was already there, walking beside him like a shadow. Tenken's eyes bulged, panic spiking, instinct howling. That Reiatsu—it wasn't just powerful; it was apocalyptic. Without hesitation, he pushed himself harder, trying to outrun the inevitable. But neither he nor Komamura had ever been fast, and certainly not fast enough to match a master of the Shihōin style, especially not Moyu, who had long since mastered every form of Shunpo.
"Coward," Tenken spat, desperation fueling him as he pivoted to strike. Reiatsu surged like a bomb, the ground shattering beneath his feet as he summoned all his power. "Bankai." In a flash, his form expanded—jagged black armor encasing his massive figure. A colossus of rage and steel towered over the street, his cleaver of a sword cleaving through the district like a reaper's scythe. "Hah! DIE!" He brought the blade crashing down, the shockwave leveling rooftops and sending debris skyward. For a moment, he thought it done. "Did I get him?" he muttered, chest heaving.
Then came the reply—quiet, cold, absolute. "When did you start believing that fantasy?" Tenken turned in horror. Moyu floated midair at eye level, untouched. "Impossible…" "Your ignorance is showing," Moyu said, lifting a finger as Reiatsu rippled around him like molten sun. "Hadō 4: Byakurai—Day and Sun Thunder." A second sun ignited in the sky, erupting with divine thunder. Blinding light cascaded downward, searing Tenken in an instant. His armor melted, black flesh burned, Reiatsu howling in agony as it tore apart. His form collapsed, Bankai disintegrating, and his scorched body slammed into the street below—twitching, steaming, ruined.
Komamura arrived soon after, panting, eyes wide. "C-Captain Moyu… is he—?" "He'll live," Moyu answered flatly. "Just unconscious." Komamura looked down at the broken figure that had once been his spirit—still breathing, somehow.
Leaving the aftermath to Komamura, Moyu vanished again, drawn deeper into the chaos of Soul Society. The name Muramasa echoed in his mind—he wanted to witness its influence for himself.
---
Within the secret compound of the Onmitsukidō, tension crackled in the air as black-clad soldiers watched a high-speed duel unfold between two figures—one a stoic woman, the other a tiny winged demon darting like a golden hornet. "Heh, this is your Shunpo?" Suzumebachi mocked, weaving through the air. "You're a joke, Sui-Feng!" The Second Squad Captain narrowed her eyes. While rarely reliant on her Zanpakutō, this was different—Suzumebachi's speed and size made her a nightmare to hit. But Sui-Feng's technique was patient, surgical. She adjusted, analyzed, waited. "Still playing stubborn?" she asked coldly. "Predictable attacks are your downfall." Suzumebachi snarled, voice rising. "You've stagnated ever since you thought you surpassed Yoruichi! You're obsessed with her!"
That jab landed deeper than intended. Sui-Feng paused, then smiled faintly. "So that's the grudge you carry…" She vanished. One devastating strike, laced with Kidō, hammered Suzumebachi from the sky like a golden bullet. The spirit crashed into the courtyard, a cloud of dust swallowing her impact. When it cleared, she lay sprawled and unconscious. Sui-Feng looked down, eyes soft. "My loyalty has changed. There's someone else I must protect now."
In Rukongai's Junrinan District, smoke drifted through shattered streets as Shinigami battled desperately against waves of elemental attacks. Wind, Kidō, and razor-sharp slashes kept them on their back foot. "Tch. Even the damn cat turned on us," Rangiku Matsumoto growled, narrowly dodging another feral strike. "Bakudō 30: Shitotsu Sansen!" she cried, golden light launching from her palms—only for Haineko to flicker away like smoke.
"Haineko!" Rangiku yelled. "Don't you remember me?! We were one!" But Haineko's gaze held only cold fury. "I never understood you. You never deserved me," she hissed. "Die, Rangiku!" With a whisper, she summoned a storm of ash. The air filled with slicing particles, and Rangiku—low on reiatsu and breath—couldn't dodge them all. Blood traced her skin, and her knees buckled. "This is the end!" Haineko shrieked, forming a vortex of death.
Then—impact.
But no pain followed.
Instead, a firm voice cut through the smoke. "Wind Barrier." The ash parted, revealing Moyu standing with Rangiku cradled in his arms. "Captain Moyu?!" she gasped. "Looks like I got here just in time," he said with a small grin. Rangiku exhaled a relieved smile. "Yeah… right on time." Gently, he set her down. "You're out. Let me handle this." And for once, she didn't argue.
As Moyu turned to face Haineko, the feline spirit trembled under the weight of his stare. "Seriously? This is who I'm fighting?" he muttered. But before Haineko could reply, ten shadows stepped from the trees—black shihakushō, crimson scarves around their necks. At their center stood a man whose eyes burned like twin furnaces.
Kuchiki Hibiki.
His gaze locked on Moyu, drawn instantly to the hairpin resting at his temple—the unmistakable symbol of the Kuchiki heir. Rage twisted his features. "The Kuchiki clan…" he breathed, voice shaking with venom. Heat radiated off him, suffocating and sharp. "You'll pay for everything," he whispered.
"Prepare to die, Ching."
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