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The thunderous news rippled through the Soul Society like a lightning strike across still water, unsettling the delicate balance of power that governed its inner workings. Though the Gotei 13 stood as Seireitei's shield and sword, true authority was not held solely by the captains; it was a shared dominion, fractured between the military elite and the ancient nobility—particularly the Four Great Noble Houses, whose influence penetrated every layer of political and administrative control.
Lesser clans, such as the Feng family, were little more than subordinate vassals beneath these noble giants—bound by blood and duty to serve the likes of the Shihouin, with a standing barely higher than the average seated officer. In such a system, when neither lineage nor titles hold sway, only one force remains to determine one's place: sheer strength.
Tenth Division Headquarters – Captain's Office
Seated in his new captain's chair, Moyu finally found a moment of stillness amidst the bureaucratic storm, the novelty of command still fresh while an imposing stack of paperwork towered before him like a silent challenger. With a sigh, he flipped through one of the many reports, only to scoff at its contents: "Seven-day Seireitei patrol routes and security revisions... Useless junk," he muttered, flicking it aside in frustration before reaching for another.
The next one—a routine leave request from Seventh and Eighth Seat Officers for a family ritual—earned no resistance as he signed and murmured, "Approved," without hesitation, unwilling to become the same soulless drone he once was in his previous life. If the request wasn't absurd or abusive, he saw no reason to deny it, and with that mindset, the stack was shrinking at a satisfying pace—until a particular document caught his eye.
"A new graduate from Shinō Academy?" he murmured, scanning the report quickly. Names leapt out at him: Kuchiki Rukia, Abarai Renji, Kira Izuru. "So they're graduating too..." he mused aloud, leaning back in his chair as his expression grew thoughtful.
Renji and Kira, for all their potential, would be fine without his intervention, but Rukia—Kuchiki Rukia—was a different matter entirely. If events unfolded as they had in the original timeline, she would soon be dispatched to the Human World and stationed in Karakura Town, exposed to forces far beyond her capacity to handle.
He wouldn't allow that.
Bringing her into the Tenth Division directly was the safest path—keeping her nearby and under his watch, far from the chaos that loomed.
"Rangiku!" he called, expecting his lieutenant to appear.
No response came.
Several minutes passed in silence before the door creaked open, not with Rangiku's usual dramatic entrance, but with the soft-footed arrival of a small figure—a silver-haired child with frosted eyes, arms laden with documents that nearly obscured his face.
With a dull thump, another heap of paperwork landed on Moyu's desk, and his brow twitched involuntarily.
"Captain, these are the forms I've processed," the boy said evenly. "Please review and sign."
The child was none other than Hitsugaya Tōshirō, Third Seat of the Tenth Division—brilliant, disciplined, and already brushing against the precipice of Bankai. Moyu, even without manifesting his divine power, could sense that if Tōshirō's growth wasn't carefully guided, his still-incomplete Zanpakutō would consume him long before he mastered it.
With a casual smile, Moyu waved the paperwork aside. "Ah, Hitsugaya. I trust your filing skills completely," he said with faux cheer, but the boy didn't react, clearly accustomed to being treated as the division's de facto administrator.
Under Shiba Isshin's reign, both he and Rangiku had spent more time drinking than leading, leaving Tōshirō to manage every task that required actual discipline—an experience that forged his speed, precision, and quiet resentment.
"Captain," he said, voice flat, "you should probably read the document on top. It's about Rukia Kuchiki's division placement."
The words landed like a blade.
Moyu's smile froze as dread crept up his spine, and as he checked the page, realization dawned. Everything he had just reviewed was already outdated.
"That pile's from about two weeks ago," Hitsugaya added with a glance toward the corner. "Most likely left there by Lieutenant Rangiku."
Moyu exhaled slowly, trying—failing—to suppress the swell of irritation.
"Matsumoto Rangiku!" he shouted, voice echoing through the hall.
---
Several moments later, Rangiku entered with a casual stretch and a theatrical yawn, her tousled orange hair and sleep-heavy eyes betraying her recent nap—or hangover.
"Captain, what's wrong?" she asked with mock innocence, the picture of laziness wrapped in charm.
Moyu's sigh was long and weary.
She'd clearly been out drinking again.
"Come on, Captain, it was a holiday," she said with a grin. "Didn't you know?"
Holiday? he thought bitterly. Since when does the Tenth Division have holidays?
Shaking off the absurdity, he slid the file across the desk toward her. "The Academy graduate applications just arrived. Rukia's among them."
"Rukia Kuchiki?" Rangiku echoed, her interest piqued as her eyes lit up. "Isn't she Captain Kuchiki's sister? I think I remember her."
"You'll handle her evaluation," Moyu said without preamble.
Rangiku leaned closer, smirking as if she'd caught him in a scandal. "Oooh, Captain pulling strings for a noble girl? Didn't think you were the type."
Moyu narrowed his eyes. Typical Rangiku—tiger's teeth hidden behind flirtatious words.
"Enough. No favoritism. Her assessment must be rigorous, and if she fails, she returns to the Academy—no exceptions," he replied sharply.
"Bit harsh, don't you think?" Rangiku blinked in surprise.
"Not in the slightest," Moyu answered, his voice steady and firm. "The Gotei isn't a place for sentiment. Especially not now."
Something in his tone shifted the atmosphere, and Rangiku's teasing faded into silence as she studied him more seriously.
"…Captain, are you saying—"
"I didn't say anything," he cut in with a measured calm. "Just handle it. I trust you."
"…Understood," she murmured, straightening before slipping out of the room.
Moyu finally leaned back, intending to enjoy a rare moment of peace—only to spot a Hell Butterfly fluttering through the open window, its wings shimmering like ink and fire.
He extended a hand, and the message, brief but undeniable, whispered to him.
"…Captain's Meeting."
First Division Barracks – Captain's Assembly Hall
By the time Moyu arrived, several captains were already in place.
Sui-Fēng stood near the front with her usual icy precision, and as their eyes met, a flicker of something unspoken passed between them.
He hadn't yet found the right moment to thank her for her intervention during the Nilu incident; without her discreet but powerful support, the chaos would've been far greater.
"All thanks to your trust," he said quietly as he approached.
Sui-Fēng turned her head slightly, ears tinged with pink. "I just don't tolerate injustice," she replied, her voice low and measured. "Even if it comes from... outsiders."
Though the words were stiff, Moyu understood. If this weren't official business—if the ancient presence of Genryūsai Yamamoto weren't looming at the head of the room—he might've said more.
As more captains filtered in, the weight in the room grew.
"Captain Moyu," Chōjirō Sasakibe's formal voice rang out. "The meeting is about to begin. Please take your position."
Moyu found himself seated between Tōsen Kaname—silent and blind—and Zaraki Kenpachi, whose very presence felt like barely restrained carnage.
"Oi, Moyu," Kenpachi grinned as his chipped Zanpakutō clanked against the floor. "You're strong. After this meeting, we're fighting."
Moyu sighed. Kenpachi said that every time, but never managed to find the Tenth Division afterward—even with Yachiru's help, he'd end up in the wrong barracks entirely.
"Maybe later," he muttered, silently hoping to avoid both destruction and paperwork.
"Captain Moyu. We meet again."
That familiar, smooth Kyoto accent belonged to Ichimaru Gin, whose ever-present smile curved like a crescent moon.
"I remember you from Soul Burial practice," he said casually. "Back then, you needed Shihouin family relics just to survive. And now look at you."
Before Moyu could respond, Aizen stepped forward with the calm radiance of a priest offering blessings.
"I've always respected Captain Moyu," Aizen said warmly. "It's unfortunate he didn't join my division. I still regret that."
Boom.
The floor shook as Yamamoto Genryūsai's cane struck down.
Silence fell like snow.
The old man's eyes opened—ancient, burning.
"The Captain's Meeting will now begin," he announced.
"This matter concerns an incident sealed over a hundred years ago," he continued, and the room tensed.
"Back then, a young Shinigami with exceptional talent rose quickly, feared by rebels and revered within the Sixth Division. He married into the Kuchiki clan and even earned their name."
Moyu's gaze sharpened—he already knew who this was.
Kuchiki Hibiki, once hailed as the future head of the clan, had fallen from grace when lies, betrayal, and manipulation drove him to madness, unleashing a rampage that saw his own comrades slaughtered. His Zanpakutō had been so dangerous that even Yamamoto and Kuchiki Ginrei were forced to seal him—buried deep within Karakura Town.
But now—
"Kuchiki Hibiki has escaped."
Gasps rippled through the captains, though Byakuya stood still, unmoved and unreadable, clearly already informed.
"His release poses a threat to both the Soul Society and the Human World," Genryūsai said gravely. "Effective immediately, the Royal Palace has authorized a First-Level Combat Readiness Status."
The storm had broken free.
And the blades of the Gotei 13 would not be enough to weather what came next.
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