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Tsunayashiro Tokinada departed, cloaked in humiliation, his eyes lingering on Moyu before vanishing into the distance, as if desperate to imprint the moment in memory—but Moyu paid him no mind, for to him, Tokinada was nothing more than a clown playing at kingship, deluded by grandeur he neither earned nor understood.
Tokinada's ambition to replace the Spirit King was grand—absurdly so—and he grasped neither the essence of the world nor the burden the King bore, making his delusions easy for anyone with sense to dismiss as hollow fantasies born of arrogance and ignorance.
The Spirit King had been bound at the birth of the worlds—a wedge anchoring the balance between Soul Society, the Human World, and Hueco Mundo—and though immortal, he now sat eternally sealed within the Spirit King Palace, his existence reduced to function rather than sovereignty, yet there were still fools who believed they could supplant that throne and shape reality to their liking.
Kuritama, watching from afar, struggled to find words strong enough to capture the absurdity of Tokinada's ambition—noble in scope but foolish in foundation, meticulous in planning yet built on lies so transparent they cracked under scrutiny—and in the end, it was destined to collapse beneath the weight of its own contradictions.
As for Moyu, he harbored nothing but contempt for the man who murdered his own kin, who killed his wife without remorse, who manipulated Tousen Kaname under the pretense of nobility, leaving behind a trail of broken oaths and shattered lives, for Tsunayashiro Tokinada, to him, was filth—irredeemable and repugnant.
Though Tokinada's schemes now reached toward the Shiba family in yet another display of entitled conquest, Moyu understood deeply that dreams, however gilded, rarely survive contact with reality, and the man's ambition would inevitably shatter just as his twisted ideals once had.
Moyu had once given his word to Shiba Isshin—to protect the Shiba family from being devoured by the political machinations of the noble houses—and it wasn't merely a favor to a friend, but a conviction rooted in principle and unwavering loyalty.
As Tokinada faded from view, Moyu's gaze sharpened with a quiet chill, an unreadable intensity that left onlookers hesitant to speak or even breathe.
---
The Tenth Division barracks buzzed with renewed order as Moyu strolled through them with Nilu beside him, and the division's soldiers, once uncertain of his authority, now looked on with awe and deference, their doubts silenced the moment they learned of his record—especially the part where he had nearly cleaved a captain in two before even accepting the position, an act that left no room for dispute.
A sharp voice cut through the air—"Kuchiki Moyu!"—prompting every soldier's head to turn toward the figure storming his way, her orange hair catching sunlight as her footsteps struck with purpose, and her unrestrained anger radiated like heat off stone.
It was Matsumoto Rangiku, whose burning gaze sent instinctive unease rippling through the gathered ranks, for no one dared to intercept a woman walking with that much fury and clarity of purpose.
Halting just inches from his face, she snapped, "You know something about the Captain's disappearance, don't you?" and though the tension thickened like fog between them, Moyu simply raised his hands in quiet surrender, a helpless smile softening the edge of his silence.
He couldn't reveal Isshin's current state—stripped of his Shinigami powers, Isshin was more vulnerable than even a seated officer, and allowing too many ears to hear the truth would only invite danger toward someone already too exposed.
"I'm sorry, Rangiku," Moyu said, his voice calm but burdened, "I understand how you feel, but I really don't know anything for certain," and as he spoke, he watched her eyes for the flicker between hope and resignation.
"The report from the Technical Development Bureau said the Hollow Isshin encountered was stronger than even the Vasto Lorde you met in the Human World," he added, letting the weight of the words do what comfort could not.
Rangiku looked down, disappointment flickering beneath her lashes as memory and uncertainty collided, for all his quirks, Isshin had been a reliable captain whose sudden disappearance left behind a gaping absence impossible to ignore.
"Don't lose hope," Moyu said gently, allowing sincerity into his tone, "the Bureau still lists him as missing, not dead, which means he could still return—perhaps recovering somewhere quietly, away from scrutiny or danger."
As he turned to walk back toward the barracks, Rangiku looked up with a faint rekindling of belief etched into her expression, but just as she prepared to thank him, her eyes locked onto a small head resting on his shoulder—grinning, waving, far too familiar.
"Wait—wait!"
Her voice rose with startled urgency, but Moyu was already walking away, unhurried and unconcerned.
"That pervert brought her into Soul Society?!"
Though the child beside him—Nilu—was unmistakably Arrancar, Rangiku couldn't see her as a threat, only a lost girl clinging to a man who had become her anchor in a world that didn't understand her presence.
---
Later, inside the Captain's quarters, Moyu took a moment to admire his new surroundings, finding the European-influenced architecture a refreshing departure from the austere elegance of the Kuchiki estate he had long considered a gilded cage.
As he stepped out to explore the rest of the space, a sudden impact sent him stumbling forward, crashing into something warm and soft, instantly enveloped by a fresh, narcissus-like fragrance that was as delicate as it was unmistakably feminine.
Looking up with surprise, he found himself locked in a stare with the one person who seemed to haunt his days more persistently than most, and in that frozen moment, realization collided with tension.
Matsumoto Rangiku sat beneath him, her face flushed with fury and embarrassment, a storm gathering behind her narrowed eyes as she growled, "Pervert. Seen enough yet?!"
Moyu scrambled upright, coughing awkwardly as he tried to regain composure. "Rangiku… what did you need?" he asked, though the question barely left his lips before whispers began to swell from nearby onlookers.
Without a word, Rangiku grabbed his wrist and yanked him back into the room, her authority and irritation overwhelming whatever explanation might have followed.
Behind them, curious voices echoed.
"…Did Big Sis just…"
"Is it true they've known each other for a long time?"
Speculation ignited like brushfire across the barracks, unchecked and unstoppable.
---
Inside, they sat across from each other at a lacquered table, eyes locked in a standoff that pulsed with unspoken frustration, uncertainty, and a faint trace of concern neither wanted to admit.
"You brought her to Soul Society," Rangiku finally said, her disbelief palpable, "tell me you're joking."
Moyu tilted his head slightly, as if unsure what part she found most offensive.
"You mean Nilu?"
The child, hearing her name, perked up and leaned closer to his side, smiling with the innocent affection of someone who had found a safe place in a world full of dangers.
To her, Soul Society was a haven—no sand, no beasts, no battles—just quiet skies and the presence of the only man who made her feel protected.
"Nilu likes it here," she whispered, burying her face into his robes with childlike trust, her small hands clinging without fear.
"She may be an Arrancar," Moyu said with a shrug, "but she's not dangerous—not like the others were."
Rangiku sighed, struggling between rational concern and emotional fatigue. "But what if someone finds out?" she asked, unable to silence the weight of consequence in her voice.
"Can you sense her Reiatsu?" he asked calmly, his gaze steady.
As she focused, Rangiku's expression shifted from suspicion to shock. "…What the—?"
"Exactly," Moyu said, the smirk returning to his lips, "no one can trace her identity unless I allow it, and if they do, I've already set countermeasures."
With no logical ground left to argue, Rangiku simply shook her head in exasperation, knowing that whether or not she agreed, she wouldn't be able to change his mind.
"Oh, one more thing," Moyu added, already standing as he reached the threshold, "since you're here, I'll leave the paperwork to you."
Before her outrage could form into words, he vanished in a flash of Shunpo, leaving her alone with a desk buried in unfiled documents and disbelief etched on her face.
"…Kuchiki Moyu!!!"
Her cry reverberated through the barracks, sharp and unmistakable.
Rumors exploded in every hallway.
"Our Captain's a scumbag…"
"Abandoned paperwork. Abandoned his vice-captain. Abandoned..."
---
Unaware—or perfectly indifferent—to the chaos erupting behind him, Moyu had already departed, his steps quiet but purposeful as he headed toward the outskirts of West Rukongai.
More specifically, the West Third District, North Sector—home to the Shiba family estate.
Once exiled from the noble courts for their refusal to conform to archaic traditions, the Shibas had chosen isolation over submission, retreating far from the central clans, and though their decline had been slow, it was now plainly visible, kept at bay only by the sheer strength and spirit of Shiba Isshin.
With Isshin now missing, the estate felt hollow, and though old friends still visited, their presence could not lift the heaviness that weighed over the household like fog.
In the courtyard, Shiba Kaien sat beside his cousin, offering words he hoped would bring comfort. "Don't worry, Kuukaku," he said, attempting a smile, "Uncle's just missing—he'll return."
Kuukaku nodded without conviction, her eyes reflecting a hope too fragile to speak aloud.
Kaien knew better—the Gotei 13 had issued no formal report, and despite his outward calm, he feared what silence truly meant.
Then came a knock.
Opening the gate, Kaien froze at the sight of the man standing beyond—a silver-white Gotei 13 haori bearing Kuchiki elegance, his black hair bound, his posture noble, and his aura unmistakable.
Kuchiki Moyu.
Kaien recovered quickly, offering a respectful bow. "Captain Moyu."
"No need for that, Kaien," Moyu said, waving off the formality.
They walked together into the courtyard, its fading beauty only highlighting the quiet deterioration that had settled across the estate.
"I assume you're here about Uncle Isshin…" Kaien began cautiously.
"Partly," Moyu replied. "I took command of the Tenth. In doing so, I inherited Isshin's will."
He smiled faintly. "He talked about you often—especially after a few drinks."
Kaien raised an eyebrow but said nothing, letting the silence stretch just long enough.
"I made him a promise," Moyu continued. "To protect your family. That's why I'm here."
Nothing more needed to be said.
A man could be unreasonable, Moyu believed, but never without a bottom line—and for him, protecting the Shibas had become that line in the sand.
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