Bleach: The Shinigami’s Zanpakutō That Unleashed Bankai On Its Own

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The moment Moyu uttered the name, an invisible pressure gripped the room, the air dropping in temperature as Urahara and Yoruichi turned sharply, their eyes locked onto him in a silence that stretched long and heavy.

Eventually, Urahara removed his bucket hat and set it beside him, his usual aloof expression replaced with rare seriousness.

"…It seems you've done your homework," he said, his voice quieter than usual, though it carried more weight. "So tell me, Mr. Moyu—how much do you really know about what happened back then?"

Moyu met his gaze evenly, his tone unshaken and deliberate, without hesitation or flourish.

"I know enough to understand the danger, but not so much as to assume I know everything."

He let that settle before continuing, his words cutting through the quiet like a scalpel.

"What I do know is that the true architect of the Hollowfication Incident was not who the records claimed, but Captain Aizen Sōsuke of the Fifth Division."

Urahara and Yoruichi exchanged no glances and said nothing, but their silence, laden with tension, confirmed more than words could.

Moyu pressed on, glancing briefly at Yoruichi, a wry smile touching the corner of his lips.

"She told me not to pursue this, not to involve myself in a matter already buried by history and sealed by blood. I ignored her. Long before I set foot in the Spiritual Arts Academy, I had already begun searching. Being a Kuchiki gave me access to archives most couldn't even name, and every document, stray note, or suppressed report—however faint or fragmented—converged on one figure."

He let the name hang.

"Aizen Sōsuke."

Urahara's expression shifted subtly, the edges of his calm demeanor darkening.

"…Kyōka Suigetsu," he said at last, the name sounding more like a curse than a weapon.

"Though presented as a water-type Zanpakutō, its true nature lies in Kidō, and its ability—Complete Hypnosis—is one of the most terrifying deceptions ever conceived. The moment someone sees its Shikai, even once, every sense—sight, sound, touch, smell, even one's perception of time—can be overwritten without their knowledge. Breaking free of it is virtually impossible, because you can't fight what you don't even realize is false."

Moyu lowered his gaze—not out of fear, but recollection—because unlike the others, he had never witnessed Kyōka Suigetsu's release.

When Aizen demonstrated it at the Academy, Moyu had taken deliberate, calculated steps to remain absent for the entire month, skipping lessons and training alike to avoid any risk of falling under its control.

Perhaps that strange disappearance, that conscious evasion, had caught Aizen's attention for the first time, though Moyu's erratic development and unpredictable talents likely kept him just far enough from Aizen's list of active threats. That delicate balance didn't last, not after his ability awakened—an event that reignited Aizen's interest immediately.

He repeated the name, slower this time.

"…Kyōka Suigetsu," then looked directly at Urahara. "If that's true, then during the Hollowfication Incident, every single captain who testified against Aizen had already been exposed to the illusion."

Urahara gave a dry, exhausted laugh, the kind that comes from years of carrying buried truths.

"Exactly. By the time everything came to light, we were already years deep into his setup. Each of us had seen the Shikai without understanding the consequences. The entire trial was theater staged by a man who had already rewritten the script, cast, and stage beneath us. We were never anything but actors."

Moyu nodded, not out of agreement alone, but as someone who now saw the structure behind the chaos. Urahara's candor erased most of his lingering doubts, though trust remained elusive, mutual or not. That didn't matter. What did matter—for now—was that their objectives aligned.

As for the intel Moyu claimed to have uncovered, that had been exaggerated, because in truth, even if Byakuya himself had attempted the same investigation, he would've turned up nothing. Aizen's operations had been that airtight, his facade so seamlessly constructed that only a mind with knowledge from another lifetime—one who had read the truth masked as fiction—could have pierced the illusion.

To the uninformed, Ichimaru Gin, with his silver hair and fox-like smile, had always looked the part of the villain. But Aizen had hidden not in shadows, but in broad daylight, shielded by charm and gentle authority.

Moyu's eyes narrowed, not in surprise, but with quiet calculation.

"He created the perfect mask and used it to fool the entire Soul Society, nearly without exception. That kind of deception doesn't just make a man dangerous—it makes him untouchable."

Urahara nodded slightly, lips curved in a wry smile.

"Then I suppose we're in agreement about our common enemy. Whether or not I ever return to Soul Society, well… that's a separate issue."

Moyu gave him a level look, tone deadpan.

"If I'd actually planned to arrest you, do you think we'd be sitting here, drinking tea that expired a decade ago?"

Despite the sarcasm, the wariness in his posture remained. Urahara Kisuke was brilliant beyond measure, the kind of intellect Soul Society had never quite understood—or contained. But his legacy was also one of blurred lines and dangerous choices.

The Hōgyoku wasn't a myth or an accident. Aizen's version had been born from the lives of tens of thousands in Rukongai, sacrificed in silence—souls with the potential to become Shinigami, all erased to create a device that defied the natural order. And yet, long before that, Urahara had already succeeded in creating his own version, one that worked, one that should not have been possible.

No one still understood how he did it.

That alone made him the most dangerous kind of ally.

Urahara gave a light laugh, easing back into his usual tone, as if trying to restore the casual mood.

"Haha… having a conversation with you is truly exhausting, Mr. Moyu."

He leaned forward just slightly, his voice softer but more focused, and for the first time since the conversation began, his eyes gleamed beneath the shadow of his hat.

"But there's still one question I need answered."

His gaze locked onto Moyu with quiet intensity.

"…Have you ever seen Aizen's Shikai?"

Moyu didn't blink. His eyes narrowed just slightly as the real test began.

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