Moyu maintained a wall-dong posture, his palm pressing firmly beside Rukia's head, eyes locked onto her with quiet intensity.
"Rukia, you…"
This moment—was exactly like that moment.
Rukia's breath was caught in her throat, her body tense.
"Forget what you just saw," Moyu said sternly, expression unwavering. "And don't you dare tell that guy Byakuya."
"If you do, I'll never know peace again."
Rukia Kuchiki's face froze. Her expression turned blank, almost unreadable.
Of course, this felt familiar.
Back in the Kuchiki residence—more than once—Moyu, using that face sculpted from noble genes, had played the charm card on her.
And like a fool, she had fallen for it. More than once.
And now, again—nothing had changed.
This moment was exactly like that moment.
Rukia clenched her jaw. Her silver teeth ground audibly as frustration and realization twisted inside her.
"I should have known," she muttered. "You're impossible…"
Moyu sighed, brushing a hand gently through Rukia's black hair, and said with mock helplessness:
"Let Byakuya handle the family headaches."
"Rukia, you wouldn't really make me deal with all that boring paperwork, would you?"
The warmth of his palm lingered, and Rukia's cheeks flushed. Her voice softened.
"…Fine. I won't say anything."
But she hesitated, then raised her eyes to meet his with uncharacteristic seriousness.
"Brother Moyu… when exactly did you learn Kidō?"
"I remember your spiritual talent…"
Then, suddenly recalling something, she clamped a hand over her mouth and stopped herself.
Moyu glanced at her and replied lightly, "Talent is just surface-level. You have to learn to see through appearances to the essence beneath."
"It's like—"
Before he could finish, Rukia's face lit up with realization. She jumped in excitedly:
"I get it!"
"Your lack of talent was just the surface! You've been a genius all along!"
Moyu blinked slowly, then brought a hand to his face and sighed.
Forget it. Explaining things was too troublesome...
"What's the next class again?"
Moyu shifted his attention, curiosity flickering in his tone. The Hadō #4: Byakurai earlier had been unexpectedly satisfying.
If every skill was this powerful… then maybe, just maybe, he could take control of his destiny. And maybe even reshape the fate of others in this dangerous world.
"Hmm... should be Zanjutsu Meditation class," Rukia said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "We have to bring our sealed swords and meet in the Zen classroom."
Moyu paused.
The sealed state…
The Zanpakutō's unreleased form. The bond between a Shinigami and their soul's edge—life and death embodied in steel.
Upon admission, each student was issued a sealed sword in a small ceremony. From that day forward, they would eat, sleep, and train with it—sharing every moment together.
The purpose of the Knife Zen class was simple: to understand that bond.
After all, most Shinigami never hear the true name of their Zanpakutō in their entire lives.
That was the painful truth.
---
Zen Classroom
Moyu sat cross-legged on the polished wooden floor, eyes focused on the blade resting horizontally before him.
The steel glimmered faintly in the light—silent, cold, ordinary.
His sword, in its sealed state, looked no different from anyone else's. Even with his noble blood, there was no shortcut when it came to the soul of a Zanpakutō.
"…Zanpakutō," he muttered, watching its motionless form. Countless thoughts drifted through his mind.
Up ahead, the instructor stood calmly—her name was Keiko Jushan, sharp-eyed and neatly dressed like an office administrator.
A member of the First Division.
The five vertical lines on her shoulder badge marked her elite status in the Gotei 13.
"Zanpakutō," she said clearly, adjusting her glasses, "are more than just weapons. They are living beings."
"They have their own names, their own hearts, and their own wills."
As she lectured, Moyu's focus deepened.
He didn't even notice the time pass. At some point, his eyelids grew heavy. His head swayed forward.
Then, a chime echoed—clear and cold.
[Your Zanpakutō resonates with your intent. Compatibility has increased.]
"…Compatibility," Moyu murmured. "This is progressing fast."
"The abilities of each Zanpakutō differ," Instructor Jushan continued. "Mine, for example…"
She drew the blade from her waist, held it horizontally, and declared:
"Soar to the sky—Snare!"
In a flash of light, her sealed blade transformed into a jagged tree branch—long, dry, forked like a radio antenna—reaching upward as if grasping the clouds.
"A Shikai ability similar to Bakudō #77: Tenteikūra," she explained.
Moyu stroked his chin, nodding thoughtfully.
"…The perfect civil servant's weapon."
[Your Zanpakutō has witnessed another's Shikai. Competitive spirit ignited. Compatibility maxed out. Shikai has been achieved.]
A new voice echoed inside him—ancient, cold, familiar.
"Please call out my name…"