The moon hung high, veiled by thin clouds that drifted lazily across the sky. The soft rustling of leaves mixed with the quiet echo of footsteps and the slicing sound of a blade cutting through air.
Mohit stood alone in the center of the training ground, shirt clinging to his back from sweat. His movements were sharp, methodical—every strike, every step a testament to his discipline. Despite his blindness, he flowed like water through the forms, his senses locked onto the world in ways few understood.
Perched on a sturdy branch high up in a tree nearby, Captain Shunsui Kyoraku watched silently. His straw hat tilted low, a bottle of sake hanging from one hand, he had been observing Mohit's solitary training for nearly ten minutes.
Then it happened.
In mid-strike, Mohit paused briefly, his head turning slightly toward the tree, brow furrowed.
Shunsui smirked.
With a lazy yawn, he leapt down from the tree, landing with practiced ease. The grass barely rustled beneath his feet.
"Well, Mohit," he said casually, approaching with that familiar lopsided grin, "you're still as sharp as ever. Why don't you tell me—what's a young, handsome man like you doing training alone at this hour?"
Mohit didn't turn to him, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips
"Well, Captain," he replied dryly, "I haven't seen my face in a long time… so I can't tell if that's an honest compliment or just a polite lie.
Shunsui chuckled, brushing some dust from his haori. "Oof, fair enough. Can't slip anything past you, huh?"
Mohit sheathed his sword and finally turned his head toward him. Though his eyes were long gone, the weight of his presence still felt as though he were looking right through him.
"You didn't come here for small talk, Captain," Mohit said calmly. "You don't strike me as the kind of man who wanders out at midnight just to shoot the breeze with his junior officer."
Shunsui scratched his beard, then gave a small shrug. "And here I thought I'd been doing a good job hiding my real motives. You make me feel like some heartless bastard."
Mohit's smile didn't falter. "I didn't say that. But… I assume you want answers."
Shunsui adjusted his straw hat as he approached, hands tucked into his sleeves
"Well, Mohit," he said, his voice low but firm, "if you already know why I'm here… then how about you stop dancing around it and just answer the damn question?"
Mohit didn't move.
"What are you talking about, Captain?" he replied evenly. "You'll have to be more specific. You're a man of many thoughts, after all."
Shunsui's usual smirk faded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stepped closer, his voice dropping into a deeper register
"Fine. If you want me to be specific, here it is: Why did you take your eyes out that night?"
A quiet gust of wind passed between them.
For a few moments, Mohit said nothing. His posture remained calm, but something subtle in his breath shifted—more deliberate, more focused. He tilted his head slightly toward the moonlight and finally spoke.
"Oh… that night."
He let the words linger in the air like a distant memory being relived.
"You know, Captain… that night felt a lot like this one. Same breeze, same silence. But the difference… was the step I chose to take."
He slowly raised a hand to the dark cloth over his eyes.
"People have asked me the same question for years—'Why?' They try to make sense of it. Trauma, madness, obsession. But the truth is simpler than all their theories."
He turned slightly toward Shunsui
"I did it… because it was necessary."
Shunsui furrowed his brow. "Necessary?" he echoed.
"If I hadn't taken my eyes that night," Mohit continued, "my world would've stayed fuzzy—like everyone else's. Dull. Safe. Blind in a different way."
His voice was calm, not defensive—almost philosophical.
"I gave up what others use to see… so I could perceive what they refuse to. I took that step so I could see the unseen, Captain."
Silence again. Long and heavy.
Shunsui studied him for a long time, lips pressed together, gaze unreadable.
"You know," the captain finally said, voice softer, "you're either the craziest man I've ever recruited… or the wisest."
Mohit smiled faintly. "Maybe both, sir."
Shunsui sighed, tilting his head back to look at the stars. Let's it then what can craziest recruit can achieve
Mohit lowered his sword and turned slightly in the direction of his captain, his voice composed but unwavering.
"Well, Captain Shunsui… I've answered your question.
He paused. "Don't you think it's only fair you return the favor?"
Shunsui, who had already turned his back to walk away, halted mid-step. He glanced back over his shoulder with a smirk playing across his lips
"Oh? And what is it you want, kid?"
Mohit sheathed his blade, folding his arms behind him in a respectful but firm stance.
"It's been a while since I unlocked my Shikai. I've trained with it—alone. I've meditated, pushed my body and mind past limits… but I've never truly used it against another."
He took a breath.
"What I'm asking, Taichō, is this: I want you to train me. Help me master my Shikai—really master it. There's no one else I'd trust for something like this."
Shunsui turned fully to face him now, and for a brief moment, the smile faded from his face. His gaze, usually so relaxed and unreadable, sharpened. He studied the blind swordsman before him—his posture, the scars hidden behind the cloth, and the quiet fire burning in his voice.
"You want me to train you in how to wield your Shikai?"
Yes captain I think only you can help me to master in our squad
Shunsui chuckled softly, tilting his head with that familiar, lazy grin.
"Aren't you being a little greedy, Mohit? Asking me to train you… just for answering one question?"
Mohit remained still, the wind brushing against his robes, his voice calm but weighty.
"It doesn't matter how many questions you ask, sir. What matters is what question you ask—and how deep it reaches."
He turned his head slightly, facing Shunsui as though staring right through him.
"Don't you think so, Captain?"
For a moment, Shunsui didn't respond. Then, the grin faded into something softer—more thoughtful. He exhaled slowly, folding his arms.
"You're right," he said at last, his tone carrying that rare seriousness he only used when something truly mattered.
"But know this, Mohit—only the man himself can understand what his Zanpakutō desires. I can help guide you through the form, maybe help you shape the physical concept of your Shikai…"
He stepped closer and tapped a finger lightly to Mohit's chest.
"But the soul of it? That's yours alone to uncover."
Mohit nodded with conviction, his jaw set
"Fine by me, Captain. I'm not looking for shortcuts—just someone who won't flinch when I fall."
Shunsui smirked again and turned to walk off.
"Well then," he said over his shoulder, "you better not disappoint me, kid. Dawn. Don't be late."