Spiritual Arts Academy.
White Hits class.
Moyu sat in the back row, head resting on the desk, eyes dazed and unfocused.
Since the day he explored the Zanpakutō space, his life had returned to routine. But it was no longer the same.
Something fundamental had changed.
Moyu's strength had undergone an earth-shattering transformation.
He didn't show it, but his actions revealed it clearly—calm, measured, utterly unshaken.
The other students in the elite special class, once talkative and proud, now sat silently. His quiet dominance suppressed them completely.
It wasn't just strength.
His identity as a member of the Kuchiki clan only added weight to the unspoken pressure.
When one possesses both power and status, the path to the top becomes much shorter.
Your White Hits cultivation is more efficient due to focused attention. Power increased by 120%.
...
As the White Hits class neared its end, Moyu checked the cultivation progress silently, then frowned slightly.
"Compared to Sister Unohana's lectures, this efficiency is pathetic."
"Is it the strength of the instructor that matters?"
"Or maybe it's about their mastery in a specific discipline?"
He recalled his earliest lessons in calligraphy.
Aizen Sōsuke wasn't just powerful—he stood at the very peak of Soul Society. And his calligraphy was unmatched.
That's how he became one of the Spiritual Arts Academy's instructors.
Of course, he may have taken the position willingly, to study Zanpakutō evolution and further perfect his Shikai.
To control the Academy was to influence the future of Soul Society itself.
And Aizen… was not a man who would overlook such a critical institution.
Yet despite all this, Aizen had never seen Moyu's Shikai.
That fact alone gave Moyu an edge.
"To become someone without weaknesses…"
Moyu's eyes sharpened. "I need to take a different path."
Just then, the White Hits instructor on the podium addressed the class.
"In three days, to evaluate your progress—"
"Our class will engage in a White Hits confrontation with the special class next door."
"I hope nothing unexpected happens. This is not just about class pride but your individual honor."
"The results will also affect your future placements in the Gotei 13 squads."
"Take it seriously."
With that, the teacher left abruptly.
Halfway down the corridor, his uniform shifted to jet-black—the covert emblem of the Onmitsukidō. A secret mission had clearly arrived.
"White Hits confrontation..."
Moyu's eyes gleamed. A new idea took root in his mind.
"Maybe... there's another way to test this."
Three days later.
Training Ground No. 7, Spiritual Arts Academy.
Two groups of students stood on opposite ends of the large, empty field, each brimming with spirit and sharp intent.
Their eyes burned with determination, Reiatsu flaring in waves that hovered above the ground like invisible pressure.
Hands wrapped in tight bandages, bodies poised, waiting.
Only one person broke the mood.
Moyu, eyes half-lidded and lifeless, looked across at his opponent and sighed heavily.
"Of all people... why did it have to be you?"
The boy across from him had wild crimson hair that soared skyward, and his face practically radiated arrogance.
Veins rose on his forehead—blue and tense—marking his intense Reiatsu.
Abarai Renji.
A genius of another kind. Powerful in combat, yes. But hopeless in Kidō. Zero talent there.
As for White Hits, he was decent. Stronger than most, even by high standards.
"I didn't expect it to be you, Moyu!"
Renji grinned, acting like a longtime buddy.
"Don't worry, I'll hold back!"
But Moyu didn't appreciate the gesture.
"Renji. Don't."
"The me standing here right now—"
He raised a finger to his temple, then gave a faint smirk. "—has seen something."
The moment he finished speaking, his entire presence shifted.
The lazy energy vanished.
His eyes sharpened, posture tightened, and his spirit rose like a wave ready to crash.
"Eh?!"
Renji's veins twitched, his pupils expanded. He stretched out his arms and tensed, his tone now serious:
"Moyu, don't joke around!"
"I'm strong! Really strong!"
But Moyu wasn't here for talk.
He was here to confirm a theory.
Raising both arms high, his fists clenched tightly, he launched forward like a striking beast.
His right fist tore through the air with tiger-like ferocity, aiming directly for Renji's chest.
Renji's eyes lit up—this was the challenge he wanted.
A wild grin split his face as he surged forward to meet the blow, his own fist drawn.
Neither dodged. Neither faltered.
They struck.
BOOM!!
A thunderous shockwave blasted through the arena the moment their fists collided, scattering dust and shaking the very earth.
Setsuna trembled beneath their feet.