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"This guy Moyu... he's really ruthless," Kyoraku Shunsui remarked with a half-smile as he stood off to the side, though the flicker of pain behind his eyes betrayed deeper feelings. Watching Yadōmaru Lisa, once his lieutenant, taken down so decisively while he stood idle stirred a quiet frustration within him—but the orders from the Head Captain left no room for sentimentality.
Unohana Retsu, ever perceptive, spoke softly as if sensing his internal struggle. "When Moyu struck, he deliberately avoided her vitals. She won't be able to continue fighting, but she'll survive." Shunsui exhaled, shoulders easing with some relief. With the Fourth Division Captain present, Lisa's survival was almost guaranteed—and even beyond that, Moyu himself was a Grandmaster in Kaidō.
Yet, Lisa's swift collapse ignited a fierce surge of anger within the Visored. Even the normally unflappable Ōtoribashi Rōjūrō looked ready to snap. Moyu, unshaken, stood calmly before them. "Six left," he murmured, tone even, "I hope your performance surpasses the first two." The remaining Visored moved instantly, surrounding Moyu in formation, preparing to press him from every angle.
As Hachigen clasped his hands together, Kidō energy gathered, forming a rectangular barrier that enveloped Lisa and Hiyori. A moment later, they vanished. "I'll see to their recovery," Hachigen said firmly, casting a glance toward the others. "But don't bother trying to out-Kidō him. He's a Grandmaster. Don't waste your strength." As the Deputy Chief of the 23rd Kidō Division, he knew exactly how wide the gap was between himself and Moyu—and stepped aside with the wisdom to match.
The rest of the Visored tensed, momentarily reminded that Moyu's terrifying melee power was only half the threat—his Kidō prowess was the other, and arguably more overwhelming. "Yo, Hirako," Love Aikawa called, his rumbling voice sharp despite the casual tracksuit and tinted shades, "what's the plan now?" Their initial assumption—that Moyu was just another newly promoted captain—had completely collapsed. None of them could take him alone.
They had planned to force a confrontation, overpower the incoming captains, then use the battle as a platform to expose Aizen's schemes—but Moyu had halted their momentum from the very first engagement. It was unacceptable.
"Mashiro, fall back and guard Hiyori and Lisa," Hirako Shinji said, raising his Zanpakutō, his voice quiet but firm. "We'll take care of this." His blade pointed forward, unwavering. "Sorry, Captain Moyu. I still can't figure out your true intentions. So, we'll have to continue this fight." The tone dropped to a murmur as he activated his Zanpakutō. "Collapse, Sakanade."
Golden Reiatsu burst forth from the blade, forming a hovering ring of energy in mid-air. Five symmetrical holes appeared along its edge, giving the weapon a strange, hypnotic form as it spun in Shinji's hand, glowing with an eerie, golden light. A faint floral scent reached Moyu's nose—then everything flipped. The world distorted. Up became down, left became right, front became behind. Shinji now floated upside down in Moyu's perception, eyes gleaming with focused intent.
Moyu didn't panic. He knew this ability well—Sakanade. The fragrance inverted directional awareness in those who inhaled it, reversing every instinctual movement in combat. And ironically, the stronger the opponent—the more honed their reflexes—the more disastrous the effect.
Shinji didn't give him time to adjust. In a flash of Shunpo, he appeared overhead and slashed downward. Slick—his blade sliced into Moyu's arm. Every instinct had betrayed him, commanding him to dodge the wrong way. Overriding those instincts in real time was a nearly impossible task.
"Well well, looks like Moyu's in a bind now," Shunsui remarked from afar, adjusting his hat with faux nonchalance. "Should we step in—"
"No," came Unohana's immediate response, arms folded, gaze locked onto Moyu's figure. "Trust in him. He hasn't reached his limit." Her eyes darkened slightly as she recalled a moment in the Fourth Division barracks—a sparring session that had left a mark on her memory.
They had stood on the wooden floor, trading blows in utter silence. No Reiatsu, no spiritual pressure—just pure swordsmanship. Every angle, every movement, every ounce of pressure had been honed to perfection. And yet, even with her unmatched mastery, Unohana hadn't landed a single strike. Eyes closed, a wooden sword in hand, Moyu had blocked everything.
She remembered his parting words clearly: "Pure swordsmanship has reached its peak. What comes next is integrating your own intent." Then, with piercing calm: "Sister Retsu, the killing intent you conceal... that's your gateway to the next realm of kendo."
Now, in the present, Moyu attempted Kaidō on his arm—but failed. The reversed directions had disrupted even that. "Troublesome," he muttered, assessing the inversion's reach. Shinji chuckled, catching the slip. "Looks like this match is already over."
In a blur, he vanished, reappearing behind Moyu with Sakanade raised for a finishing blow—only for his blade to be caught effortlessly. Steel clanged. His pupils contracted in shock. "What? How—" He stared in disbelief. "There's no way... I've never used Sakanade in front of you!"
Moyu turned slightly, eyes still closed, holding his blade behind his back. "The direction is reversed, yes. But your killing intent? That hasn't changed. The wind already told me where the danger was." A subtle smile curled on his lips. "You were right—this is only the beginning."
Lightning suddenly coiled in his palm. "Hadō 88: Flying Dragon Strikes the Thief—Shōten Raikō." Blue fire exploded outward, engulfing Shinji in searing light and concussive force. Electricity cracked the air. Shinji barely formed a protective field before the blast sent him flying.
[Your Hadō 88: Flying Dragon Strikes the Thief has defeated Hirako Shinji. Mental state: Excited. Training efficiency doubled. Power increased by 80%.]
"Hirako!" The cries from the Visored were panicked. "Captain Hirako!" Watching their leader fall pushed them into desperation.
"Rip, Jinshara!" "Crush him, Tengu!" "Become dust in the wind—Kazan!" Three captain-class Visored activated their Shikai in tandem. Reiatsu detonated from three directions, shaking the earth and sky alike. The ground fractured, flames roared upward, and pressure warped reality itself.
"Quite the storm," Moyu murmured, unfazed, his eyes still closed. "Winds and haze, reduce all to nothing. Lan Yin." The air twisted, pale light darkening into shadow. "Lan Zhu." Without overwhelming force, Moyu released enough power to destabilize the attack—but not annihilate the attackers.
He raised his arm. Everything stopped.
Muguruma Kensei watched in horror as his Shikai was undone. The black wind spiraled down like an unraveling curse. Boom—the earth eroded. Fire collapsed. Reiatsu decayed. The black wind didn't just attack—it devoured. It consumed light, pressure, flame, air, and hope.
Death bore down. The three captains raised their blades with grim determination—but in the next instant, the storm was gone. Silence reigned. The battlefield lay in ruin. Their bodies trembled. Sweat poured down their backs. "Haah—was that... really a Shinigami's power?" Kensei whispered hoarsely, "How could this be…"
Moyu sheathed his Zanpakutō. He hadn't come to slaughter. There was no need to push further. "Why…" Kensei staggered forward, confusion twisted across his face. "Why didn't you kill us?"
Moyu stepped past him, his tone steady. "Do you remember what I said? Whether it's a discussion or a battle—someone needs to have the upper hand for it to move forward. If both sides are evenly matched, you get deadlock. Now that I've shown my strength, we can have a real talk."
Only as he passed did Kensei realize his back was soaked in cold sweat—not just from fear, but from the helplessness of watching his Zanpakutō get dismantled without resistance. Even if he used Bankai, even if he donned his Hollow mask—he wouldn't last long.
This wasn't just power—it was disparity. The kind of gap between a Vasto Lorde and a Gillian. A completely different realm. And Moyu, casually walking away, likely had no idea what kind of shadow his second-stage Shikai had cast over Kensei's heart.
Even if he did... he wouldn't care.
After all, a combat power measurement unit doesn't concern itself with how others feel.
Moyu knelt beside Hirako's crumpled form, pulling him from the crater. Light shone from his palms as Kaidō flowed into the wounds, healing burns and restoring breath. To his mild surprise, Shinji was still conscious—and far from broken. His bloodline, his grit, his spirit—they weren't so easy to extinguish.
Looking into Shinji's dazed, pain-wracked eyes, Moyu allowed himself a quiet smile.
"So... can we finally have that conversation?"
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