Three days later.
The Soul Society, within the First Division headquarters.
After Aizen's sealing, Seireitei returned to a fragile calm. Yet the streets carried none of the usual ease. The passing Shinigami bore solemn expressions, their silence weighed down by the memory of what had transpired. Though the enemy was defeated, the losses remained immense, leaving scars deeper than stone and steel.
Inside the Captains' Chamber, Yamamoto Genryūsai convened a new meeting. With the situation temporarily stabilized, every officer above vice-captain who could still stand had been summoned. Even Ukitake Jūshirō, pale and coughing blood, arrived with the aid of Kotetsu Kiyone, determined not to absent himself in this hour.
A dull thud broke the still air. Moyu's eyes shifted, but the sound came not from Genryūsai's cane striking the floor—it was Sasakibe Chōjirō's hand against the table, punctuating the silence with formality. At the head of the chamber, Yamamoto sat in stern composure, his empty sleeve hanging heavy at his side.
Moyu had once offered to restore the lost arm. The old general refused. This wound, he declared, would remain as a reminder of failure. Moyu had respected that choice. For Yamamoto, the absence of an arm changed nothing. His will remained a blade sharper than steel.
"Everyone," the old commander's voice resounded, "in the wake of Aizen Sōsuke's treachery, Seireitei and the Soul Society alike have endured grievous wounds. Though Aizen has been sealed by Captain Moyu, other matters demand our judgment." His gaze swept the chamber, heavy as stone.
"First, the reconstruction of Karakura Town in the world of the living. Urahara Kisuke will oversee the work, with Captain Kurotsuchi's division supplementing his efforts. Together, they will restore the city."
At this, Moyu's eyes flicked toward Urahara in the corner. He understood now why the man had returned. With Kurotsuchi Mayuri gone, the Twelfth Division could not sustain Seireitei's research demands alone. Notes and fragments from Mayuri were insufficient. Yamamoto, unwilling to let that void consume the Gotei Thirteen, had sanctioned Urahara's return.
"Second," Genryūsai continued, "is Aizen's trial. Yesterday, Captain Moyu and I escorted him to the underground chamber. He will face judgment by Central 46." His voice hardened, but a faint shadow touched his expression before he spoke again.
"The final matter concerns Captain Unohana's request."
A ripple went through the chamber. All eyes turned toward the First Division's corner, where Unohana Retsu stood serenely, her hands folded with impeccable grace. Her expression did not shift beneath the scrutiny.
Genryūsai's voice, usually unshaken, wavered faintly. "Captain Unohana has requested… that her wedding be held at the Spiritual Arts Academy."
The chamber erupted in disbelief.
"What—what did you say?!" Kotetsu Isane nearly leapt forward, her words tumbling over themselves. "C-Captain… a wedding—?!" She could not even finish the thought.
"Compose yourselves," Unohana's voice cut through gently, calm as still water. She remained dignified, not a single ripple on her face, her tone carrying unquestionable authority.
Genryūsai cleared his throat, his words forced past the weight of the announcement. "The wedding is to be between Captain Unohana and Captain Moyu." Even the old commander stumbled as he spoke, proof of how staggering the revelation was.
Moyu nearly choked, sputtering as if struck. Until this very moment, Unohana had never spoken a word to him of such a matter. Marriage? At the Academy? He turned instinctively, only to meet her gaze.
Her eyes were gentle, overflowing with affection without shadow or doubt, waves of warmth hidden within her calm surface. For a heartbeat, Moyu felt words rise in his throat, but they caught there, leaving him speechless.
Genryūsai's gaze rested briefly on him. "Since Captain Moyu raises no objection, the matter is settled. The Kuchiki family will oversee the arrangements." His eyes turned to Byakuya. "Captain Byakuya, I entrust this to you."
Byakuya, still stunned, nodded numbly. "Understood… understood." Only after several breaths did he regain enough composure to add, "Captain Unohana, please visit the Kuchiki estate when the time comes, so that preparations may be discussed." His words carried formality, though his mind reeled at the thought of such a pairing.
Unohana inclined her head gracefully. "As you wish."
The decision was made. Yet within the chamber, Moyu felt the air tighten like drawn steel. More than one pair of captain's eyes lingered on him with unkind sharpness, resentment and disbelief coiling behind their gazes. Cold sweat traced down his back as he realized what he had overlooked: competition, rivalry, the blade of jealousy now aimed at him.
Unohana, however, gave them no weight. To her, rivals and resentment alike were meaningless. In her presence, all resistance was futile.
Sensing the heavy air, Yamamoto coughed, reclaiming control. "The meeting is concluded. Captain Moyu—follow me to the underground chamber. There remains the matter of Aizen."
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