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Although Moyu had prepared himself, when he finally saw Kurosaki Ichigo standing there, the sight jarred him.
The style of this boy was nothing like his memory.
Especially that face—too close to Shiba Kaien.
Yet raised in a different world, molded by a different hand, Ichigo was kind-hearted but carried the air of a delinquent. It suited him. The orange hair alone branded him a "problem child."
After the battle with the Menos Grande, Ichigo had already taken Ishida Uryū—who had lost to him—as his little brother. And when a younger brother was threatened, Ichigo would never stand aside.
"So, are brats this arrogant now?"
Madarame Ikkaku grinned, pointing his Zanpakutō at Ichigo's head.
"You're the human punk who stole Renji's Shinigami power?"
At that, Ichigo's face tightened. The weight of the situation finally reached him.
"Could it be—"
"Idiot, run!"
Abarai Renji burst from the alley, voice raw.
"They'll kill you!"
Ichigo's eyes widened, then steadied. He rested his massive Zanpakutō on his shoulder and smiled.
"I'm not the kind of guy who abandons his little brother and runs away."
"Save that talk for your own squad," he added. "Because I'll beat you all into the ground."
Moyu watched him, uncertain how to measure the boy. He had observed Ichigo's soul carefully since childhood. Outwardly, there was little different. But within lay something unique.
Three powers slept inside: Shinigami, Hollow, Quincy. All suppressed.
Even now, Ichigo was fighting mostly with Renji's transferred power. And still, his strength was astonishing.
Uryū had once said Shinigami and Quincy power flowed like water through a faucet—normal when closed, torrential when opened. Ichigo's faucet was sealed, yet the pressure that leaked out rivaled trained fighters in full combat.
"Hey," Ichigo called, facing both Moyu and Ikkaku, "you coming at me together, or one at a time?"
"Ha! Haven't heard arrogance like that in years," Ikkaku barked. His reiatsu flared. "Beat me first if you can!"
In a blink, he vanished with Shunpo.
Steel rang as Zanpakutō clashed.
Moyu observed calmly as the fight ripped the street apart. Walls cracked, ground split, sparks flared. Ichigo's raw power was destructive, but the battle's rhythm was entirely Ikkaku's. Experience was a gap Ichigo couldn't bridge.
"Damn it!" Ichigo snarled, trying to shift the pace. But every attack was read, every movement countered.
"Brat, it's over."
Ikkaku bent his arm, Zanpakutō carving in at a strange angle toward Ichigo's throat.
A dull clang stopped the strike.
Ikkaku blinked. Ichigo stood smiling, blade locked.
"Don't underestimate me, baldy. You memorized my style? Then I'll change it."
"The fight's just begun."
Ikkaku pushed forward, shoving the clash wide. "Not bad. Then—" He joined blade and scabbard, reiatsu rising. He was about to release his Shikai.
"Wait, Ikkaku."
Moyu's voice cut through. He stepped forward.
Renji tensed in the alley. "Captain Moyu, don't—"
"Silence. Sinners don't get to speak," Moyu snapped, vanishing with Shunpo and rapping Ikkaku's skull with a knuckle.
Renji froze, uncertain, but Ichigo sensed the shift. This captain wasn't here to spar.
Moyu introduced himself plainly. "Captain of the Tenth Division, Kuchiki Moyu." His smile sharpened.
"Perhaps you don't know. In Soul Society, any Shinigami who transfers power to a human is sentenced to death. When Renji returns, that is what awaits him."
Renji's eyes dropped, face dark. He had braced for this, but hearing it aloud struck harder than expected.
"What…" Ichigo faltered, then clenched his grip.
"If that's true, then I won't let you take him." He raised his blade, voice iron. "My little brother follows me. No one decides his life or death but him!"
Steel roared as Ichigo's Zanpakutō came down—only to stop dead against a single finger.
Moyu's index finger pressed the flat of the blade, immovable. Stronger than Ikkaku's steel.
With a flick, reiatsu surged. Ichigo was hurled tens of meters, smashing through a wall. Dust choked the street.
Silence followed. Even Ikkaku and Renji were stunned. Moyu hadn't drawn his Zanpakutō. He hadn't used Kidō. Just a finger. The gap was immeasurable.
Yet from the rubble, Ichigo staggered up, blood running down his face, refusing to yield.
"Like hell I'll stay down. That'd be a joke to my brother."
He charged again, eyes blazing.
"If I don't crush this gap, I'll never move forward!"
His giant blade came hammering down, blue reiatsu flooding the sky.
Moyu's calm smile didn't waver.
"So much spirit. But gaps don't always inspire. Sometimes, they crush."
The blade fell. Again, Moyu caught it with a finger. No matter Ichigo's strength, the sword refused to move.
"That's the gap," Moyu said softly. He bent his finger and flicked.
A cracking sound split the air. Before Ichigo's eyes, fractures spiderwebbed across his Zanpakutō.
"Impossible…" he whispered.
With a final shatter, the sword burst into fragments, scattering like broken glass.
Moyu stepped forward. "Enough time wasted. Goodbye, human boy."
Blood bloomed across Ichigo's chest. Moyu's strike severed the saketsu and hakusui, the core of his Shinigami soul. His power collapsed. He fell into his own blood, vision dimming.
Through the blur, he saw a Senkaimon open. Three silhouettes walked into its light.
And in that moment, Ichigo understood the truth.
The meaning of the word gap.
And that weakness itself was the original sin.
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