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Ichigo and his companions were subdued at once. Had Yamamoto Genryūsai chosen to press the matter, the reckless intruders would have faced the Sōkyoku's flames again and learned firsthand the inviolable majesty of Seireitei.
For now, however, with Aizen and Gin departed, the battlefield stilled. Yamamoto weighed Ichigo's intentions, as well as the Eleventh Division's conduct—destructive but without direct killings of Seireitei's soldiers—and passed judgment. They would not face Central 46 but instead be confined in the Tenth Division's prison, the barracks' own cells meant to hold unruly subordinates. Such internal prisons were common, as captains themselves were empowered to judge and detain their men.
Zaraki Kenpachi, however, was another matter. His condition unstable, Yamamoto handed him directly to Moyu's custody. In this conspiracy, Moyu's strength and foresight had already far exceeded the expectations of his peers. His presence could no longer be regarded as that of a mere captain among equals—already some whispered of him as a man who stood beside Yamamoto himself.
As for uncovering Aizen's true plans, attention turned to another: the Ninth Division's captain, Tōsen Kaname.
---
The Fourth Division's quarters bustled with unending motion. Though no soldiers had perished in the invasion, the injuries were innumerable. Kyōka Suigetsu's illusion had swept the entire Seireitei, twisting perception and forcing battles even among allies. Captains clashing had left scores wounded, and in the end, four bore the gravest marks—Byakuya Kuchiki, Zaraki Kenpachi, Hirako Shinji of the Tenth, and Tōsen Kaname himself.
In one ward, captains and lieutenants gathered around Byakuya's bed, his body swathed in bandages.
"It's hard to imagine," Kyōraku Shunsui muttered, tilting his hat as though still in disbelief. "The ever-cold Captain Byakuya—reduced to this."
Byakuya's eyes glared through the bandages, his silence sharper than steel.
"The old man disagrees," came the deep, bell-like voice of Komamura Sajin, himself covered in scars but still upright. "Captain Byakuya sacrificed himself to uphold Seireitei's law. That is worthy of admiration. He is a model we should learn from."
His earnest words nearly made Hisagi choke on laughter. He knew Byakuya better. This was no noble sacrifice. It was misfortune. Drawn into an execution, trapped under Kyōka Suigetsu's illusions, and forced into a savage clash with Kenpachi. Even when the illusion faded, escape had been impossible. A beast in madness yields only to complete defeat. Both men had suffered for it.
Senbonzakura's Bankai—millions of petal-blades turned to crushing steel—tore at Kenpachi's body until not a scrap of flesh remained unscarred. Byakuya lay broken, while Kenpachi cursed from a nearby bed.
"Damn it… what a boring fight," Zaraki muttered, his voice thick with irritation. "Hardly worth the trouble." His words belied the truth—he had been pushed near death, cut deeper by Senbonzakura than he cared to admit.
When it was clear both would survive, the captains left quietly, granting them silence to recover.
---
The next ward was different. Led by Kotetsu Isane, the group crossed corridors where fewer and fewer healers remained. Reiatsu here was heavy, pressed down by Kidō.
At last they stood before a door etched with intricate mantras. Isane's voice was hushed.
"This is one of the taboo wards. The Captain himself placed these barriers. They seal Reiatsu and suppress the flow of spirit particles. Inside, your strength will feel… dulled. Please be mindful."
The door groaned as the Kidō unlocked, and they entered. Within, the room was plain save for the markings covering floor and walls. On the bed lay a dark-skinned man, his bandaged frame upright, his blind eyes turned toward the doorway as if he had awaited them.
Tōsen Kaname.
Komamura Sajin's voice broke first, hoarse with grief and rage.
"Tōsen… why? Why side with sinners like Aizen? Why betray the justice you claimed to uphold? Was everything you told me nothing but a lie?"
The strain tore open his wounds, blood soaking the wrappings on his neck, dripping into his fur. He had once called this man his closest comrade. To see him now as an enemy of Seireitei was unbearable.
"Captain Komamura!" Isane stepped quickly between them, her voice sharp. "Control yourself. This is the Fourth Division. Quiet is required here."
Komamura drew long breaths until the air misted before him, then bowed his head. "Forgive me. I lost my composure."
Silence settled. All eyes turned to Tōsen, awaiting his reply.
At length, his rasping voice rose, rough as stone scraped on stone.
"Komamura. I remember my words. My eyes see only the path with the least sacrifice. Justice lies along it. That path is mine to walk—and that path is justice."
Even discarded by Aizen, used and abandoned, Tōsen showed no regret. His faith in Aizen's "new world" remained absolute. To him, Seireitei's justice was corruption dressed as order. The Tsunayashiro family's filth alone proved that truth. From the beginning, his road had diverged from Seireitei's, his despair of this world driving him to Aizen's side.
Moyu, listening, understood. He did not condone it, but he recognized the difference in their views. Justice was no pure white, nor utter black. As Mrs. Grey once said: the world is delicate gray. Absolute justice does not exist—only the stand one chooses.
Komamura's pupils trembled, unable to accept the words. Others asked, pressed, yet whenever Aizen's name arose, Tōsen lapsed into silence. Silence itself became his only shield.
His fate was already certain. Once healed, his Reiatsu would be stripped, or he would be sent to Muken, the deepest prison.
The captains left one by one, resigned to his silence. Only when Moyu turned at the threshold did Tōsen speak again.
"Kuchiki Moyu." His voice was stiff, forced.
Moyu paused.
"Thank you."
The words were unexpected, yet not without reason. A faint smile touched Moyu's lips.
"You're welcome."
He stepped out, leaving Tōsen once more to his silence.
At the corridor's end, Moyu paused. Above, the Seireitei sky stretched clear and blue, unmarred as if nothing had happened.
He exhaled, half a laugh, half a sigh.
"Justice. Such a high-sounding word…"
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