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Like a storm that devours the world, the black wind swept through everything, and wherever it touched, life withered—eroded as though aged a thousand years in an instant. Trees, ground, even residual Reiatsu vanished into nothingness, stripped bare by that all-consuming breath. Kuchiki Hibiki was swallowed by it, and like everything else, he was gone—everything except his head, floating midair, blood-red eyes locked on Moyu. His jaw opened and closed, voice ragged with fury as he hissed, "Soul Society… Kuchiki… all of it… rotten. This corrupt system will collapse. You'll walk the same path." His face twisted into something barely human as he spat his final words, "Kuchiki brat... I'll be waiting for you in Hell." And then, his Reiatsu vanished. The wind died, and what remained was only silence.
The battlefield had been reduced to ruin. The ground was scorched, eroded to a lifeless husk, and a massive pit stretched miles wide across what had once been part of Rukongai. Even veteran Shinigami stood still, taking in the devastation. This was the scale of a true captain-level battle. Kuchiki Hibiki—the traitor who brought Soul Society to the brink—had been defeated by Captain Moyu. Swiftly. Decisively. Nothing remained but ruin.
With Hibiki's death, Muramasa's ability collapsed. The captains, sensing the dramatic shift in spiritual pressure, quickly converged on the battlefield. Several figures dropped from the sky and stood silently as they absorbed the scorched aftermath. Finally, it was Kyoraku Shunsui who broke the silence, his gaze landing on Moyu as he asked, "Where's Kuchiki Hibiki?" "Gone," Moyu replied, the word sharp and final. It startled Kyoraku, whose frown deepened. "What do you mean... gone?" He could feel unease tightening in his chest. Captain-Commander Yamamoto had ordered Hibiki captured, resealed, or tried by Central 46. "Exactly what it sounds like," Moyu answered, unflinching. He had never intended to let Hibiki live. Someone that far gone, so consumed by vengeance against the Kuchiki clan—and by extension, himself—could never be allowed to remain. To pull weeds, you cut the root.
Hibiki's rage had some justification. Once, he was the Third Seat of Squad Six, a prodigy, married into the Kuchiki family, positioned for greatness. But jealousy among the nobility birthed a conspiracy; he was framed, imprisoned, and eventually erased. Centuries passed, and his resentment festered, twisting his mind. When he finally broke free, he struck at Soul Society with unrelenting hatred. In his eyes, the world was rotten and had to be burned down. No logic could reach him—not even Muramasa's voice could pull him back. He believed he alone held the power to destroy and rebuild, and that belief drove him forward—with only his Zanpakutō by his side. But Muramasa's rebellion, however chaotic, was fleeting. Because no matter how powerful a Zanpakutō may be, it is only as strong as the one who wields it. For those who truly walk the path of strength, no sword can betray them. From the moment this war began, Hibiki had already lost.
Moyu lowered his gaze and spoke with quiet finality, "Kuchiki Hibiki has been erased from Soul Society."
---
Squad One Barracks.
Yamamoto Genryūsai sat behind his desk, gaze fiery and unmoving as it passed over the three standing before him. "That's the summary," Kyoraku said with a shrug. "By the time we got there, Captain Moyu had already finished it. Completely gone. No remains." His tone was blunt, and Yamamoto's eyes narrowed slightly. For a moment, a trace of sorrow passed through them. He had once seen promise in Hibiki, which was why he had chosen to seal him rather than sentence him through Central 46. He had hoped—perhaps naively—that the man might one day return to Soul Society's fold. But that hope was gone.
A heavy silence hung over the room before Yamamoto finally spoke, voice deep and resonant. "Hibiki may be gone, but his reappearance dealt a heavy blow to Soul Society." The uncontrolled materialization of Zanpakutō had gone too far. Under Hibiki's direction, Muramasa had pushed his powers to their limits, resulting in widespread destruction across Seireitei. Rebuilding the streets, the barracks, and the squads would be a colossal undertaking. Time wasn't the problem—funding was. Divisions like the Eleventh, known more for brute strength than administration, were practically bankrupt. Their barracks had been flattened during the rebellion. It would take years for the Gotei 13 to recover, and those years would be spent submitting budget proposals and hammering nails.
Then, Byakuya stepped forward, speaking with that icy Kuchiki resolve. "Hibiki was of the Kuchiki clan. Though his actions were treasonous, our family bears responsibility. We will cover the reconstruction costs." Moyu sighed. The Kuchiki clan had money, but covering all of Seireitei's restoration was another thing entirely. As if hearing his thoughts, Byakuya glanced his way and said, "You've never managed the clan's finances. You don't understand our reach." Kyoraku chuckled, patting Moyu's shoulder. "To put it simply... even all of Noble Street combined doesn't touch a tenth of what the Kuchiki family controls." Moyu blinked, realization dawning slowly. Wait. I'm... the big dog?
Yamamoto raised a brow, clearly not done. "Hibiki wasn't just a Kuchiki. He was a Shinigami of the Gotei 13. Captain Byakuya, there's no need for that level of sacrifice." Moyu blinked again, a strange sense of whiplash taking hold. Since when was Soul Society this... warm? Had everyone secretly changed personalities? But Yamamoto continued, his voice firm and unreadable. "The teams will handle reconstruction. The Kuchiki family need only provide the materials." Moyu's eyes narrowed slightly. The old man really knew how to play both sides. First, offer kindness—then offload the largest expense to your clan while keeping your own hands clean. Cunning old man.
Yamamoto cleared his throat, glancing briefly at Moyu as if he'd heard the thought. "There are more important matters. Though brief, the conflict exposed deep weaknesses. Too many Shinigami remain unfamiliar with their own Zanpakutō—its nature, its will. Effective immediately, the Academy will add three additional sword meditation classes per week. Furthermore, all squad members will undergo advanced Zanjutsu studies."
Peace gradually returned to Seireitei, though the scars of battle were still visible. Shinigami moved through cracked streets, hauling debris, laying stone, rebuilding what had been lost. It was business as usual—almost. Because Moyu had already received a summons.
Urahara Kisuke had called him to Karakura Town. He claimed to have made a breakthrough in his research on Reiatsu. Moyu was intrigued. Despite his own overwhelming strength, his mastery of Reiatsu had reached an unmeasurable ceiling—one that couldn't be gauged even by Captain-level standards. If Urahara had something new to offer, he would listen. Without delay, Moyu shoved the stack of reports off his desk, grabbed Nilu, and stepped through the Senkaimon to the World of the Living.
Moments later, an orange-haired woman burst into his empty office, fuming. She stood before his vacant desk, eyes blazing with fury. "Kuchiki Moyu, you traitor! I won't forget this!!" Her scream echoed through the still-shattered Squad Ten barracks.
---
Karakura Town. Outskirts.
A gleaming Senkaimon shimmered open, trimmed with gold and built far too extravagantly for simple travel. Moyu stepped through, white haori fluttering behind him. Now that he fully understood the extent of his clan's wealth, it all made sense—even the gate was absurdly over-designed. "The Kuchiki family really is ridiculous," he muttered, then vanished in a flash of Shunpo.
---
Urahara Shop.
Urahara Kisuke looked across the room, brows raised. "You've been promoted to captain?" His voice carried the distinct tone of someone genuinely surprised—and maybe a little offended. After all, as an exile, he didn't receive Soul Society updates unless he actively sought them. And with Aizen still watching from the shadows of Squad Five, Urahara had kept a low profile. "Wasn't long ago," Moyu said casually. He had assumed Urahara summoned him for some vital breakthrough—not to ask about his resume. "Hmph. Well, can't say I'm surprised," Urahara replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. It made sense. With Shiba Isshin gone, Squad Ten needed new leadership, and Moyu, having slain two Arrancar-level Menos, was the natural successor—especially with endorsements from Byakuya and others in high positions.
Still, Moyu got to the point. "What did you discover?" Urahara's eyes gleamed as he grinned. "Come. I'll show you."
---
Underground Laboratory.
Multiple layers of enchanted glass and Kidō seals separated Moyu from the specimen inside. In a reinforced container, a black tendril of Reiatsu pulsed and writhed—alive, shifting unnaturally. "If not for my work on the latest camo watches, I'd have focused on this sooner," Urahara said, holding up a dark green device. "This version can mask Nilu's Reiatsu to Shinigami levels, even in combat." Moyu blinked, then looked between the watch and the scientist. "Did I not tell you? Nilu's already been exposed. She's Squad Ten's Third Seat now." Urahara's hand froze midair. "...You're serious?" "Actually, it's thanks to Mayuri. Long story," Moyu said, then recounted the events in detail.
Urahara listened quietly, his usual amusement fading. Slowly, his expression shifted to something far more serious. "I've made a discovery," he said at last, his voice low and unreadable. "It concerns Kuchiki Hibiki's seal... and how it was broken."
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