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Moyu regarded Madarame Ikkaku's Shikai stance with a faint, helpless sigh. Of all the Shikai in the Gotei 13, none felt more embarrassingly underwhelming than Hōzukimaru. Though it took the form of a spear—suggesting variety and range in its offensive capabilities—in practice, its fragility was all too apparent. If Moyu remembered correctly, Ikkaku's Hōzukimaru had shattered more than once in combat, and even after repeated repairs, it continued to interfere with its wielder's rhythm. But in fairness, that had less to do with the weapon itself and more to do with Ikkaku's relentless, punishing fighting style.
Just like now.
With a manic laugh, Ikkaku surged forward, his Reiatsu boiling up with reckless joy and raw confidence. "Yo! Hōzukimaru, here we go!"
The instant the words left his mouth, he twisted the spear downward and lifted it in a reverse grip, lunging directly for Moyu's throat with a thrust so fast it sliced the air apart, the wind screaming behind it as if dragged by sheer force.
Moyu, calm and precise, drew his Zanpakutō in a smooth backhand arc and brought it crashing down to meet the strike.
Clang!
Sparks exploded where blade and spearhead collided.
Ikkaku didn't hesitate. With practiced footwork and blinding speed, he spun like a dragon in mid-air, wielding his long weapon with full commitment, forcing the battle into a blur of rapid exchanges. Reiatsu cracked the earth beneath them with each burst of power, cobweb fissures radiating outward in all directions. The pace of their duel was relentless; their silhouettes blinked and vanished and reappeared again, locked in a deadly rhythm too fast for the eye to follow.
Even Abarai Renji, a seasoned warrior in his own right, struggled to track their movements. His jaw hung slightly open as he whispered to himself, eyes wide with disbelief. "Is this… really what a battle between the strong looks like?"
Beside him, Ayasegawa Yumichika arched an elegant brow and muttered, "Another one drawn in by the elegance of Bante…"
The fight intensified. Sweat gleamed on Ikkaku's bald head, dotting his temples and neck. His breath came heavier, his arms strained under the weight of his onslaught—but on Moyu's side, not a hair or fold in his haori had moved. There was no disarray, no visible exertion, just a steady calm that exuded silent authority.
And what rattled Ikkaku most was Moyu's Reiatsu. From the first exchange to now, it hadn't once fluctuated. It was like facing the deep sea—endless, unfathomable, and utterly unshaken. Though Moyu had yet to launch a single offensive strike, his defensive posture alone created an oppressive pressure that gnawed away at Ikkaku's pride.
Gritting his teeth hard enough to creak, Ikkaku felt that familiar frustration boiling over. The last time he'd experienced a fight this suffocating was his encounter with Zaraki Kenpachi back in Rukongai—but even then, Zaraki hadn't stood so casually, so dispassionately. And yet, despite how far Ikkaku had come in strength since then, this time his performance lagged even further behind.
Why? He was stronger now. Stronger than he'd ever been. So why couldn't he push this man back?
The question burned through him, fueling his rage and sharpening his will into something fierce and primal.
"Be careful, Moyu!!"
With a roar, Ikkaku lifted Hōzukimaru, veins bulging and muscles coiling like serpents down his arms. His whole body screamed with exertion.
Zanjutsu: Hōzukimaru Dance!
Hōzukimaru spun with a velocity that blurred the edges of perception, the shaft howling through the air and stirring up a violent gust around him. Reiatsu gathered in a whirlwind of pressure, swelling to the brink of what his body could endure.
He bent his legs, summoned every last ounce of strength, and launched himself into the air. With both hands gripping Hōzukimaru, he brought the full weight of the spinning spear down on Moyu like a divine judgment.
BOOM!
Moyu raised his Zanpakutō with one arm, angling it horizontally to absorb the brunt of the strike.
The impact shattered the air. Shockwaves tore outward. Dust and stone erupted in every direction, and the ground beneath them caved in, swallowed by the clash of force.
This was Ikkaku's strongest attack in Shikai. He had poured everything into it.
But as the smoke thinned and the aftermath cleared, Ikkaku's face twisted into frozen disbelief.
Moyu stood unharmed, one arm lifted, his blade effortlessly catching the full weight of the attack. Hōzukimaru's wooden shaft bent from the pressure, its curved arc digging into the earth—yet Moyu didn't flinch, didn't stagger. Not even dust had clung to him.
It was impossible. And yet, it had just happened.
For a moment, Ikkaku felt his worldview shatter.
"A corner."
Moyu's voice was flat, almost dismissive.
"If you intend to fight, then use all your strength. Not doing so insults the path you've walked."
"I didn't come here to see some dull brawl."
The words struck deeper than any blade. Ikkaku stared at Moyu, confused, startled. "You… You know something."
Moyu nodded. "Your body holds a technique you've kept locked down—an experience honed, but hidden."
"No need for hesitation. I'll keep your secret."
Silence stretched between them. Then Ikkaku, his expression grave, slowly raised his head and said firmly:
"I understand."
The tension shifted. A new weight settled over the battlefield, and even Renji, outside the ring of combat, felt it press against his skin.
"If you're asking for it, then I won't hold back anymore!"
Ikkaku gripped Hōzukimaru's shaft with both hands, front and back, a feral light burning in his eyes. His Reiatsu surged, flowing across his skin like molten blood, wild and uncontainable.
"Swastika… release!"
The words barely escaped through clenched teeth.
Then came the eruption.
A monstrous surge of spiritual pressure shot skyward as Madarame Ikkaku released Bankai.
Watching this, Moyu finally responded in kind. He lifted his hand slightly—and without flourish, his own Reiatsu unfolded across the landscape, blanketing Kobushiyama like a silent tidal wave.
Only one among them noticed: Ayasegawa Yumichika. With senses sharpened by subtlety and aesthetic, he felt it like a chill crawling up his spine. His eyes widened as he whispered to himself, "So this is… the true strength of this man."
"It's… terrifying."
From within the rising wind and thickening dust, Ikkaku emerged transformed.
Three colossal blades extended across his frame—one in each hand, with a massive third blade looming behind. Etched upon that back blade was a dragon pattern, faintly glowing, pulsing as if impatient for blood.
"Bankai—Ryūmon Hōzukimaru!"
Renji's heart nearly stopped. He knew what Bankai meant. Even with his shaky grades and lax academic history, he understood that achieving Bankai was the mark of a true captain-class warrior.
Madarame Ikkaku had reached that level. In Renji's eyes, he now stood shoulder to shoulder with Moyu.
But Yumichika gave him a sideways glance and said gravely, "Don't be fooled."
"Even with Bankai, Ikkaku still isn't a match for Captain Moyu."
"You'd do better to keep watching."
Renji couldn't believe it. How could someone this powerful still be considered outmatched?
Yet in the ring, Ikkaku stepped forward with weapons drawn, eyes burning. "Moyu," he shouted, "I've waited too long for this!"
"Let's fight—with everything we've got!"
And like a beast unleashed, he vanished with a flash of Shunpo.
There was no elegance now. No strategy. Just raw, violent power.
Each strike from Ikkaku's Bankai rang like a cannon shot. He swung his colossal blades with reckless delight, loving every second of the devastation. The ground split beneath his blows. Air shattered. Sparks ignited into flame.
"This—this is what I've been craving!" Ikkaku bellowed. Since achieving Bankai, he had never once gone all out in battle. Until now.
The dragon pattern on the rear blade flared crimson. Power built inside the weapon, heating and warping the steel until it seemed ready to burst.
With a grin twisted in exhilaration, Ikkaku reached behind him, yanked the final blade free, and shouted:
"I'm coming!"
The explosion of power was seismic.
BOOM!
The entire summit of Kobushiyama quaked. The ground buckled, great rifts splitting it open as the shockwave swept over everyone in the area.
Renji instinctively used Shunpo to retreat, stunned by the sheer force.
How could Yumichika still think this wasn't enough?
And yet, as the wind dispersed the debris and revealed the battlefield once more, the truth left him speechless.
Ikkaku stood heaving, drenched in sweat, his Reiatsu exhausted and body trembling. The terrain around him had been obliterated—deep pits, shattered rock, fractured earth—but Moyu… had not moved.
He stood, completely unharmed, untouched by even the faintest speck of dust.
The battle was over.
Ikkaku, panting heavily, forced out a crooked grin. "Thanks."
Then, at last, his body gave out. He released his blades and collapsed where he stood.
Yumichika rushed forward, bowing respectfully to Moyu. "Thank you, Captain Moyu. He's been hoping for this battle for a long time."
Moyu exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "He's challenged the Tenth Division seventeen times this month."
"If I hadn't accepted, I'm sure he'd have kept coming."
Yumichika bowed again. "Forgive him. He causes trouble, but he respects strength."
The Eleventh Division prized brute power, but they honored those who earned it. Just like Zaraki Kenpachi had won their reverence, so too did Moyu now earn their trust.
Renji approached, stunned by what he'd seen. The battlefield lay in ruins, but Moyu remained resolute, dignified. For Renji, this was a revelation.
Bankai alone wasn't enough to earn the title of captain.
Boom!
A thump landed on Renji's head—Yumichika's fan.
"Pay attention, next challenger: Abarai Renji."
"Thank Captain Moyu for allowing you to witness that."
Moyu waved it off, but Yumichika's next words struck home:
"If you seek power, first learn to respect it."
Renji's face turned solemn. "I understand."
"Thank you, Captain Moyu."
Moyu gave a small nod. Trust had been earned. And now, with that trust, the next step in the plan could proceed—the Fate Modification Project.
---
First Division Headquarters
Yamamoto Genryūsai leaned heavily on his staff, his eyes grim.
"What has made this matter so urgent?"
Kyoraku Shunsui, face unreadable, reviewed the report he had read just hours earlier.
"The Technology Development Bureau discovered evidence," he said quietly. "The seal suppressing Kuchiki Hibiki… may have been broken through the use of Hollow energy."
He paused, then continued.
"And in the aftermath, we detected signs of another power operating in Karakura Town."
"A force that, a hundred years ago… stood alongside the Captains of Hollow."
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