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"Ahem!" Moyu quickly disguised the pause with a cough, offering a weak excuse that might fool an average onlooker: "Probably... the background of the Kuchiki family." But fooling a Captain of the Gotei 13—especially one who had lived over a millennium and intimately understood Soul Society's aristocracy—was an entirely different matter. Yamamoto Genryūsai's knowledge of noble bloodlines was too deep for vague answers, and Moyu knew it.
Adjusting his tone and shifting the angle of his story, Moyu pressed forward, "This actually ties into something I've suspected for a while. From the conversation between Tsunayashiro Tokinada and Kurotsuchi Mayuri, it's clear those two have known each other for quite some time. Combine that with Mayuri's prior imprisonment in the Nest of Maggots... some things become easy to infer." His voice dropped slightly, laced with tension. "Tsunayashiro Tokinada's plan might be far more insidious than anyone originally imagined."
Yamamoto's eyes lowered as thoughtful silence settled over the room, the old man raising a teacup whose gentle steam did little to soften the weight of the pause. When he finally spoke, his words cut through the air: "You're right."
He didn't ask how Moyu had obtained his knowledge but acknowledged the effort. "However," he continued, setting the cup down with deliberate calm, "a result came from the investigation. You might find it... interesting."
Puzzled, Moyu narrowed his eyes. "What result?"
"The Tsunayashiro family has not been stripped of their noble authority," Yamamoto said evenly, his calm tone clashing with the gravity of his words. "Certain voices within Central 46 intervened."
Moyu frowned deeply, knowing full well the composition of the Central 46 Chambers: forty sages and six judges, most drawn from ancient noble lines, with rare exceptions made for respected Rukongai elders—anomalies more than norms. Of the six judges, four typically hailed from the great houses, and the long-declined Shiba clan had likely been excluded again. Though Central 46 held no military command, they existed politically above the Gotei 13—a paradox of corruption and stagnation that endured untouched. At times, Moyu found himself agreeing with Aizen's once-blasphemous logic; perhaps the world did need a new king—someone capable of shattering the crumbling zenith of tradition. That the Tsunayashiro family had weathered the storm confirmed his worst suspicions: their hidden influence ran deeper than anyone imagined. Yet for Moyu, the rest of the family was irrelevant—Tokinada alone had mattered.
Yamamoto continued, his tone measured, "The matter of Tokinada and Kurotsuchi Mayuri was resolved thanks to you." He gave Moyu a long, deliberate look. "You eliminated two Arrancar-class Menos Grande in the world of the living and provided critical intelligence on both the Espada and the Forest of Menos. For someone who only recently became a Shinigami, your contributions already eclipse some current captains."
Moyu shifted uncomfortably as the First Division Commander went on. "The deployment to the human world was something Silver Bell and I agreed upon as a training assignment, but your results exceeded every expectation."
Moyu's expression twitched, recalling how Kuchiki Ginrei's good intentions had somehow resulted in Byakuya Kuchiki selecting Karakura Town—a disaster magnet whose history now weighed heavily in Soul Society's archives—as his destination.
"And now," Yamamoto continued, "you've passed the Captain's Assessment and been officially promoted to lead the 10th Division. Emotionally, logically, there's no reason to punish you." He paused briefly before adding, "But rules are rules."
His voice grew grave. "That Vasto Lorde-class Arrancar Menos Grande you brought back poses a latent threat to Soul Society."
Still unable to fully decipher the old man's intentions, Moyu narrowed his eyes. Yamamoto, once a battlefield brute, had been tempered by centuries, molded by time into something more than a warrior—a tactician, a statesman, a fortress of insight.
"I've prepared a compromise," Yamamoto said as he raised his hand. A moment later, a figure entered the room, carrying several items.
Silver-white hair and a rigid mustache made him unmistakable—First Division Vice-Captain Chōjirō Sasakibe.
"My lord, the documents you requested."
"Thank you, Chōjirō," Yamamoto nodded, sliding the folder toward Moyu.
Moyu opened it and froze. Inside were the epaulet of the Tenth Division's Fourth Officer and a formal appointment document, along with all files Soul Society had on Nilu.
"This is a reward," Yamamoto said solemnly, "but also a punishment. If anything happens under her care, you will be held directly accountable. And next time, there will be no easy escape. As for her... Captain Sui-Feng personally vouched for her."
The weight of that revelation silenced Moyu, who hadn't anticipated Sui-Feng's involvement. That tsundere woman, known more for blade and discipline than sentiment, had quietly shifted, her loyalty deeper than any spoken devotion.
"I understand," he replied, eyes clouded with mixed feelings.
Yamamoto's gaze sharpened. "This isn't the real reason I summoned you."
Moyu blinked, caught off guard. What could be more urgent than Nilu's precarious status?
As if reading his thoughts, Yamamoto's tone dropped. "Have you heard of the Hollowfication Incident... a hundred years ago?"
Moyu's heart tightened. Of course he had. The former captains—Ōtoribashi Rōjūrō, Hirako Shinji, Aikawa Love, and Muguruma Kensei—along with several lieutenants, had been corrupted by Hollow influence and transformed into something other. And Urahara Kisuke, along with leaders from the Kidō Corps, had been implicated.
Yamamoto nodded, his gaze heavy. "After that event, Seireitei never fully recovered. Drug trafficking incidents are now widespread. The atmosphere is... strained."
A shift occurred in Moyu's perception. Until now, he'd pegged Yamamoto as a relic shackled by tradition, but it was clear this man had long sensed the rot festering inside Seireitei's sacred chambers.
Closing his eyes, Yamamoto's voice dropped to a whisper. "It's as if a black hand is orchestrating everything—Hueco Mundo's war, the chaos in the living world, the battles in the Forest of Menos, the Tsunayashiro conspiracy..."
Moyu said nothing, though the silence between them confirmed what he already suspected. The so-called black hand was real, but not all shadows belonged to Aizen.
"Which is why," Yamamoto said, eyes blazing, "I need people I can trust." His aura shifted, crashing over the room like a spiritual tsunami—one that would have leveled ordinary Shinigami. "Someone with heart. With bonds."
Moyu instantly understood. Nilu's transfer wasn't a gesture of goodwill alone—it was a test of trust, a leash, a signal that Yamamoto was preparing for the worst and had chosen to place belief in him, for now.
"Such trust... really weighs on a person."
Wiping the cold sweat from his brow, Moyu hadn't realized just how high the expectations had risen.
"Don't worry," Yamamoto said with rare gentleness. "My belief in you stems from your strength. Someday... you may even surpass me."
Moyu sighed inwardly. What kind of terrifying expectation was that? Though tempted to say, You're setting the bar too high, he swallowed the sarcasm and bowed with poised humility. "Thank you for your confidence."
"The reason I'm sharing all this," Yamamoto concluded, "is because I won't allow Soul Society's future to fall into darkness again. Your existence has already drawn the attention of that black hand."
As Moyu exited the First Division's barracks, emotions churned inside him. Between Nilu's appointment and Yamamoto's warning, he felt both elevated and bound. Yamamoto's purpose was simple—to protect Soul Society. But Moyu knew too well that such purity of intent had nearly driven them to ruin once already. If he ever became a threat to that ideal, there would be no hesitation: the blade that ended him would be Yamamoto's, wreathed in world-ending flame.
Just then, as he crossed into the main compound, spiritual energy exploded across the sky, weaving a complex net over Seireitei.
Bakudō No. 77: Tenteikūra.
Its function: trace spiritual signatures and form a secure telepathic link. Though detectable by others, the messages it carried remained inviolable. This time, however, the spell covered all of Seireitei.
"All captains, vice-captains, and noble clan members—this is Chōjirō Sasakibe, Vice-Captain of the First Division," came the clear voice, ringing into the ears of the designated few.
Instantly, movement ceased across the barracks and noble halls alike.
"Some time ago, due to personal enmity, Tsunayashiro Tokinada and former Captain Kurotsuchi Mayuri plotted to frame Captain Kuchiki Moyu of the 10th Division. During the battle, Moyu acted in self-defense and killed both. Further investigation revealed that Tsunayashiro Tokinada had been conducting forbidden human experimentation. As such, he has been stripped of noble status. All records of his existence will be erased. The Tsunayashiro family is to be isolated for ten years, forbidden from contact with the outside world."
The ripple was immediate. Thanks to Mayuri's spiritual interference, most hadn't even known a battle had occurred. Now, vice-captains whispered of Moyu's terrifying strength, while noble clans reeled from the public fall of one of their own. The ten-year exile would level the playing field—and shake the aristocracy to its foundations.
Far below, in a hidden chamber beneath Rukongai—
"Scary, scary, our dear little Captain Moyu is really something," came Ichimaru Gin's lazy drawl, his Kyoto-accented voice echoing through the dim stone chamber, foxlike smile as unreadable as ever.
"Tsunayashiro Tokinada and Kurotsuchi Mayuri teamed up against him, and he erased them cleanly. Quite the feat," he mused, unfazed.
"Nilu's presence is also... unexpected," Tousen Kaname's voice cut in, low and sharp. "Moyu's existence is interfering with our plan. Shall we remove him?"
But Aizen Sōsuke didn't blink, his glasses reflecting the sterile glow of hidden light.
"No," he said, almost gently. "His presence feels like... fate."
"If fate does exist, of course you can fight it—but drifting along its flow..."
He adjusted his glasses, an eerie smile curving his lips.
"Isn't it far more entertaining to see where it leads?"
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