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Compared to the now-deceased Tsunayashiro Tokinada and Kurotsuchi Mayuri, whose notoriety had long been steeped in blood and madness, the presence of Nilu was undeniably more poignant—an existence that stirred empathy, not dread.
As a Vasto Lorde-class Arrancar Menos Grande, Nilu's presence alone placed her among the most formidable beings, even when measured against the captains of the Gotei 13. She was a living contradiction: born of destruction, yet radiating vulnerability.
Moyu lingered on the silence for a breath, considering his words. Then he lifted the corners of his mouth in a faint smile and began to speak, his voice steady, his gaze direct.
"Some time ago, chaos began to spread across the World of the Living. Fearing that the human souls would be unable to withstand the collapse, I traveled to Hueco Mundo to investigate the source of the disturbance. It was there, in the Forest of Menos, that I encountered Nilu."
His tone held no embellishment, only quiet certainty.
"At the time, she was merely an Adjuchas-class Arrancar—harmless, even meek."
He chose not to delve into the details of her origins, nor the hand Urahara Kisuke had played in her survival. Moyu wasn't the kind of man to betray a comrade simply to ease suspicion. Not even now, when the weight of the Central 46's scrutiny bore down on him like a guillotine.
Besides, Kisuke remained a fugitive in the eyes of the Soul Society. Revealing his involvement would not only endanger the former Twelfth Division captain, but it would also provoke a swift response—likely three captains dispatched to apprehend him. And that was merely the visible threat. Behind the curtain, Aizen Sōsuke remained an ever-watchful shadow.
The room was still, save for the occasional rustle of a sleeve or shift of a stance. Every captain present listened with quiet attention, nodding slightly as Moyu laid out the truth in unadorned language.
"That's all there is to it," he concluded without a trace of defensiveness. "Nilu is family. I'll protect her with my strength—no more, no less. And if you ask where I stand, then I'll say this: I'd rather uphold the values of the Shiba than those of the Tsunayashiro."
That final sentence fell like a stone into still water, sending ripples of thought across the chamber. Several captains lowered their gazes, deep in contemplation.
"…You really do have a heart," Kyoraku Shunsui murmured under his breath, a half-smile flickering across his lips. As one of Shiba Isshin's few drinking companions, Shunsui understood the spirit of the Shiba family better than most—understood their quiet rebellion, their insistence that modesty and compassion weren't weaknesses but principles worth upholding.
Among the noble clans, it was no secret that the Shiba had long championed the idea of respecting life in all forms, even if such beliefs left them estranged. The evidence was etched in their very names: Kaien, Ganju, and Kuukaku embodied that reverence openly, while those from the branch house carried subtler symbols—Xin, Hu, Yong.
Moyu had grasped this long ago. When explaining his views, he had made it a point to invoke the Shiba's legacy at exactly the right moment, drawing a line between himself and the decayed ideologies of the other noble houses.
After he finished, the room fell into a hushed stillness, each captain awaiting Yamamoto's judgment.
"I understand."
The old man's voice, though weathered, still rang with iron resolve. Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni, seated upright with his cane in hand, regarded Moyu with eyes that burned like twin suns.
"There are reasons behind every act. But reason alone does not absolve one of consequence."
Then his voice rose, cutting through the air like a blade. The temperature spiked subtly, the dry scent of fire curling at the corners of the room.
"Bringing a Hollow into Seireitei is a direct violation of Soul Society law."
His gaze locked onto Moyu's with searing intensity. "No matter your status as a Kuchiki, no matter your accomplishments—"
"Captain Yamamoto," Moyu interjected calmly, his voice unflinching. "I wish to exercise a right that was promised to me."
Gasps echoed faintly. Kyoraku and Ukitake exchanged stunned glances.
"Has anyone dared to cut off the Captain-Commander mid-sentence in the last few centuries?" Ukitake whispered.
"This kid's got guts," Kyoraku replied. "Or a death wish."
But the unimaginable occurred—Yamamoto did not lash out. He did not scold or flare his reiatsu in punishment. Instead, he waited.
"On that day when I returned to Soul Society from the World of the Living," Moyu said, "I eradicated the Menos threat that had broken into the human realm. In recognition, you offered me a reward. I've come to claim it."
There was no pretense in his tone, no arrogance—just certainty.
And now everyone understood what he was asking.
He intended to use that reward to secure Nilu's place here—to protect her from prosecution, perhaps even grant her amnesty.
"Have you truly thought this through?" Yamamoto's gaze narrowed, his voice like kindling igniting into flame.
Moyu met the heat without wavering. "Of course. This is the reward I value most."
He refused to retreat, not even an inch. Power wasn't merely about strength in combat—it was the ability to command respect, to hold your ground. In that, Moyu understood the art of battle beyond swordsmanship. For reference, one only had to glance at Zaraki Kenpachi, currently half-asleep and utterly uninterested.
"Meh. Boring," Kenpachi muttered with disdain, letting his chin fall against his chest as he drifted toward unconsciousness.
Yamamoto's spiritual pressure softened, melting away like receding flames. Once again, he became that deceptively frail old man.
"This matter must be discussed further."
He turned, eyes closing for a moment in thought.
"In light of Kuchiki Moyu's position, both he and the Arrancar Menos Grande will be placed under temporary custody at the Kuchiki estate."
It was an official ruling, but anyone with half a brain could see what lay behind it. Moyu, being both the younger brother of Byakuya and a captain in his own right, would not face true imprisonment—not while under the eye of a brother like Byakuya, whose quiet protectiveness was an iron wall in disguise.
Moreover, Moyu's importance to Seireitei had only grown. He was a prodigy: a Shinigami who had risen to captain faster than any before him, a graduate of the Spirit Arts Academy's direct line, and the man who had wiped out both Tsunayashiro Tokinada and Kurotsuchi Mayuri. His value was immeasurable, and Yamamoto wasn't about to throw him away.
"As for the investigation into the Tsunayashiro family," Yamamoto continued, his voice once again cold steel wrapped in wisdom, "a task force will be established under the First Division."
Then his gaze locked on the laid-back figure in the pink haori.
"Captain Kyoraku, you will lead this investigation."
There was no room for protest in his tone—only instruction.
Kyoraku sighed, scratching the back of his head with a weary smile. "Yeah, yeah. Got it."
He understood the weight behind Yamamoto's command. Some things simply weren't negotiable. And because of that, he was also one of the few people Yamamoto trusted without hesitation.
"That is all. Do the rest of you have any objections?"
The silence that followed was answer enough.
Yamamoto stood. His cane struck the floor with a heavy thud.
"The meeting is adjourned."
---
Sixth Division – Kuchiki Clan Estate
Kneeling across the tatami mat, Moyu faced his elder brother, Byakuya, with composed intensity. Beside him, Nilu sat obediently, but her wide eyes were locked on Byakuya in a silent contest of presence. Unfortunately, her attempt at intimidation fell utterly flat. Her childlike expression and soft demeanor rendered her more endearing than threatening.
Time stretched in silence before Byakuya finally exhaled, the faintest crease forming between his brows.
"So it's true," he said at last, voice calm but edged with concern. "Tsunayashiro Tokinada and Kurotsuchi Mayuri… are they truly dead?"
There was no anger in his tone—only the measured caution of a man seeking confirmation.
"They're gone," Moyu replied, firm and without hesitation. "At least, their souls were obliterated in such a way that revival through ordinary means is impossible."
He paused, then added with quiet certainty, "Even if they found a method to return, they'd be destroyed again. Their strength is simply no longer enough."
Byakuya absorbed this, then shifted the subject with his usual precision.
"The Kuchiki family has intervened in the First Division's investigation of the Tsunayashiro clan. There are certain areas within their estate that even the First Division is barred from entering. As fellow nobles, however, we are not."
Moyu blinked, caught off guard by his brother's bluntness. He studied him closely, as if seeing a side of Byakuya for the first time.
"You're actually…"
Byakuya cut him off with cool detachment.
"The honor of the Kuchiki name cannot be compromised—not even by a fellow noble. Tokinada's death does not absolve the sins he committed. As guardians of Soul Society's laws, it is our duty to respond."
Though Moyu knew his brother well, moments like this revealed the depth of his convictions. Cold as he might seem, Byakuya's actions were always driven by duty and loyalty—to family and to law. Moyu's attack had stirred something fierce in him, and now, the Tsunayashiro family would face the consequence of that fury.
He almost pitied them.
The Kuchiki clan's investigative talents were mercilessly thorough. No secret could remain buried.
And no one—especially not Moyu—knew better than Tokinada what sins lay beneath the surface. From illegal soul experiments to tampering with corpses of Shinigami, Quincy, and Hollows alike, all in an attempt to forge a replacement for the Soul King—Tokinada had gambled with creation itself.
Now, the fallout was inevitable.
Still, Byakuya's tone shifted, softening just slightly.
"Soon, Captain Yamamoto will summon you. The formal sentence will be passed."
His gaze fell to Nilu.
"You brought her back for judgment."
But Moyu only smiled faintly.
"There's no need to worry. He won't punish me."
Byakuya's brow lifted, clearly unconvinced.
"Even now, your actions are in violation of regulation. Captain Yamamoto—"
"Isn't the same man from a thousand years ago," Moyu interrupted gently. "If he were, I'd already be under the Sōkyoku."
He drummed his fingers lightly on the table, his voice rich with quiet certainty.
"Time has changed him. The sword demon of old is gone. Now, there's a man who understands balance—who weighs punishment against reason."
Byakuya's eyes narrowed in thought.
"Rewards and punishments both hold weight," he mused. "Whether they cancel each other out remains to be seen."
Moyu nodded. "If he hadn't asked for the full story first, things might've turned out differently. But now... I'll be fine."
His confidence wasn't empty bravado. With his reiatsu now eclipsing previous limits, and every aspect of Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō honed to near-perfection, Moyu had no reason to fear. Unless Yamamoto and Aizen both rose against him in unison, few in Soul Society could truly restrain him.
One day, he vowed, he would reach the very summit of the world.
---
First Division Barracks
The room hadn't changed—simple tatami floors, unadorned walls, the same plain table. And yet, something in the air felt heavier.
Moyu sipped the tea slowly. It was richer, more refined than the blend at Urahara's store.
Across from him, Yamamoto Genryūsai spoke without opening his eyes.
"The Tsunayashiro estate has been thoroughly investigated."
His voice was low but sharp, each word delivered like a hammer strike.
"Many bodies were recovered—not only Shinigami, but Hollow and Quincy as well."
Moyu placed the teacup back on the table, his expression unflinching.
He had expected no less.
Yamamoto's eyes finally opened, fixing on him with a look that pierced deep.
"Kuchiki Moyu… it seems you already know far more than you've let on."
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