From that moment on, there was no longer a distinction between Zanpakutō and master. The power of Shikai and Bankai—no, the essence of the Zanpakutō itself—was completely integrated with the shinigami.
An impossible feat by any standard.
This phenomenon echoed what had once occurred in the legendary battle between Aizen Sosuke and Kurosaki Ichigo. After Kyōka Suigetsu was shattered, Aizen arrogantly proclaimed that the Hōgyoku had deemed the Zanpakutō unnecessary for him. Though ultimately, his overconfidence had led to his downfall, the seed of truth behind those words couldn't be denied.
And after regaining his confidence—and more importantly, the Hōgyoku's power—Aizen indeed became one with Kyōka Suigetsu. While imprisoned in Muken and stripped of his weapon, the ability of Kyōka Suigetsu had already become an extension of his body, cloaking him at all times. Even Kenpachi Azashiro, with the power of Urozakuro supporting him, required a considerable amount of time and power just to decipher the illusion.
Kyōka Suigetsu.
The rest may not have known the full story, but Yamamoto's successor, Jushiro's equal in cunning and tenacity—a longtime captain—Kyouraku Shunsui had come to understand it the hard way.
He had used his Bankai, all four stages of it. Yet none of them succeeded in truly wounding Mazuru. As difficult as it was to accept, he had to face the truth.
"You win." Shunsui finally admitted.
Mazuru had earlier claimed that he had lost. At the time, Shunsui didn't accept it. The man hadn't even used his Bankai. There was still a sense, however faint, that he was holding something back. A final trump card perhaps. A buried technique that could reverse everything.
But now, with his body broken, his Bankai exhausted, and his enemy entirely unscathed, Shunsui could no longer deny it. He had lost—utterly.
"If you're going to kill me." Shunsui said with a dry smile, "I hope you'll give me a clean death."
He preferred the swift cut over drawn-out agony. Let the end come like a sword stroke—brutal but clean.
Perhaps years ago, he might have believed Mazuru capable of such mercy. But this man before him was different. Shunsui no longer knew what he would do, and so, he no longer held hope.
"Since you've asked." Mazuru said coolly, "I'll grant your wish."
The words were emotionless, like a judgment passed by a god. Shunsui exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. If the blade was going to come, he wouldn't flinch when it fell. If he didn't see it, he wouldn't fear it.
But the slash never came.
Instead, warmth—gentle and healing—spread across his shattered frame. Shunsui's eyes opened in disbelief, only to find Mazuru standing before him, his Zanpakutō glowing in a deep crimson hue. The light poured over him, sealing his wounds, stitching together his broken flesh.
"This...?"
The healing light soothed not only his body but his spirit. Though his reiatsu remained dangerously depleted and would take a long time to recover, his wounds were gone.
He felt alive again.
Still, a question lingered. "Why...?"
"You didn't really think I was going to kill you, did you?" Mazuru asked in a tone that bordered on playful disbelief. "Seriously?"
He tilted his head, smiling faintly. "Do I look like such a cold-blooded bastard to you? If so, that would hurt my feelings."
Shunsui stared silently.
Was Mazuru a cold-blooded man? Not entirely. More than a year ago, when the Soul Society had declared him a traitor and sent expeditionary forces to Hueco Mundo, he had the opportunity—and justification—to wipe them out.
But he hadn't.
He'd allowed them to leave alive. Perhaps, at that time, some old attachments had lingered in Mazuru's heart. Sentiments. Memories. But that was then. More than a year had passed since. People changed.
The man standing before him now—was he still the Kyo Mazuru he once knew?
After a long pause, Shunsui voiced what had weighed heavily on him for years. "Why did you betray us?"
Mazuru's eyes flickered. He met Shunsui's gaze. "You people really love asking that question."
"Betrayal doesn't always need a reason. But you already know mine, don't you?"
Shunsui did.
Kuchiki Byakuya had once asked the same question, and Mazuru had given him an answer. Shunsui knew Byakuya well enough to be certain he'd reported that conversation to Central 46—or at least to the Gotei 13's leadership.
Even so, Shunsui admitted, "Captain Kuchiki did tell me. But I still can't understand something."
His voice dropped slightly. "You were brought back by Aizen. Even so, you weren't tortured or persecuted by the noble clans. And yet, you despise them with every fiber of your being. Why?"
It was true.
Even Aizen—despite slaughtering Central 46—had done so to manipulate the system. He didn't seem to have a personal vendetta against nobles.
But Mazuru?
He had annihilated Central 46 as well, but didn't stop there. He razed half of Noble Street in a single strike. His actions screamed of deep-rooted hatred.
"Before I answer…" Mazuru said, his eyes narrowing, "In what capacity are you asking me?"
Shunsui frowned slightly.
Mazuru continued, "As the head of the Kyouraku noble clan, a high-ranking noble? Or... as a former friend, a fellow shinigami?"
Shunsui understood immediately.
If he spoke as the noble head, then reconciliation was impossible. Mazuru had attacked nobility itself. As their representative, Shunsui would be his enemy by default.
But if he spoke as a friend... there might still be something left between them.
"I ask as the latter." Shunsui said quietly.
Mazuru looked mildly surprised. Then the expression faded.
It was the same reaction he'd shown when he'd faced Grimmjow or Soujiro Kusaka. A fleeting emotion that quickly dissolved into a blank calm.
"I see."
His voice was cold again, detached from sentiment.
"Your clan. The others. The nobles in Seireitei. Do you know how many lives they crush beneath them, just to maintain their place?"
"I was born outside Rukongai. I came to Soul Society with nothing. Even after being chosen by a Zanpakutō, the nobles looked at me like filth. Like a stray beast."
Shunsui said nothing.
"They let me into Shin'ō Academy because my reiatsu was too powerful to ignore. But not once did they ever think I belonged."
"You ask why I destroyed Central 46 and the nobles?"
Mazuru's eyes burned, not with rage, but with the clarity of memory.
"Because I've lived through the lies, the manipulation, the quiet suffocation of potential. They didn't deserve what they had, and they certainly didn't deserve the power they possessed over the shinigami despite being mostly weak and corrupt. They made it hard for me to truly accept the way things were."
*****
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