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The entire Visored crew sat huddled within the crumbling skeleton of what had once been a storage warehouse, the sharp tang of scorched metal still lingering in the air. Their bravado had long since bled out, drained by defeat and disillusionment, leaving only bowed heads and heavy silence. None dared meet the eyes of the three figures who now stood before them—figures whose presence reeked of overwhelming authority.
Moyu stood at the center with arms folded, surveying the disgraced group with a calm detachment that bordered on indifference. To his left and right, Unohana Retsu and Kyoraku Shunsui sat in composed silence, neither smug nor sympathetic, simply observant. Though they had arrived prepared for a full-scale confrontation, Moyu had rendered it unnecessary. Alone, he had dismantled the Visored resistance in a display of such precise and overwhelming force that even Kyoraku found himself silently reevaluating the captain's true strength—and, more importantly, Yamamoto Genryūsai's intent behind granting Neliel Tu Oderschvank, a Menos-class Arrancar, a seated officer's rank within the Gotei 13. The gesture hadn't just been one of pragmatic recruitment—it had been a warning, a deterrent, a statement of purpose. What was supposed to be a brutal mission had become something closer to a private performance, with Moyu as the unchallenged lead. Kyoraku chuckled to himself, shaken more by the implications than the outcome. Hirako Shinji and his people had grossly underestimated their opposition. The newly minted captain they'd envisioned bore no resemblance to the man now standing before them.
"Nothing to say?" Moyu finally asked, his voice slicing through the tense stillness like a blade. It was Sarugaki Hiyori, predictably, who responded first, her defiance flaring despite the pain etched into her frame. "Kill us or don't! Doesn't matter," she snapped, her voice ragged. "But we're not going back to Soul Society without a fight." Though she had been knocked unconscious by a precision strike earlier, Moyu hadn't used full force. Thanks to Kaidō treatment, the fractures lacing her bones had nearly healed, though her pride was far slower to recover. The rest of the Visored hadn't fared much better. Yadōmaru Lisa had taken a full-force Shunpō-enhanced blow to the chest—enough to shatter ribs and nearly rupture her lungs. Only Unohana's intervention had stabilized her condition, though the woman remained silent, her thoughts unreadable.
Few among them understood just how serious Moyu's attacks had been. His technique, Shining Flower, was no ordinary step—it was a Shunpō variant once refined by Ōetsu Nimaiya himself, used to sever Ichigo's Soul Chain and Soul Sleep in a single motion. In the hands of someone like Moyu, it was effectively lethal to anyone without captain-level resilience.
Moyu paid Hiyori no mind and turned his gaze to Shinji. "Let's hear it. You're their leader now." Shinji met the look slowly, lips curling into a crooked grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thoughts? It's simple," he said, voice dry. "Winners live. Losers die. That's the law. As for going back to Soul Society—forget it." His tone carried the weight of bitter certainty. Central 46's judgment was irreversible, even for someone like Yamamoto. Branded traitors, hollowfied freaks, aberrations—whatever name they were given, the sentence remained the same. Their return would be symbolic at best, execution at worst. The Gotei 13 no longer held any sanctuary for them. Worse still, the true threat still nested deep within the Court Guard itself—Aizen Sōsuke. No one knew the true breadth of his deception. The entire system could be compromised, the Seireitei they once bled to protect now little more than a gilded stage for unseen puppeteers. At least here, on Earth, they retained the illusion of autonomy. There, their destruction was inevitable.
Despite everything, Shinji's mind worked tirelessly behind his sardonic mask, weighing every word, gauging the man before him. Moyu's power was undeniable—but could it be used, or was it another blade aimed at their throats?
"Come now, Shinji," Kyoraku interrupted gently, his voice lined with weary nostalgia. "There's always room for negotiation." He had never stopped seeing Shinji as a comrade—not even when Soul Society had labeled him a criminal. Lisa, too, had once been his trusted lieutenant. Her fall into Hollowfication had never sat well with him, not when it was Kyoraku himself who had urged her to investigate the anomaly a century ago. Guilt still clung to him like a second haori. If there was even the slimmest chance of reversing Central 46's decree, he would take it—consequences be damned.
But Shinji's eyes dimmed at the word "negotiation." "You don't understand anything," he muttered. "Urahara Kisuke wasn't the one behind the Hollowfication experiments. There was someone else." That quiet admission sent a ripple through the air. Kyoraku's expression tensed, brows furrowing—but before he could speak, Moyu stepped forward. "Shinji. Let's talk. Alone." The finality in his voice allowed no room for protest.
Hiyori immediately erupted. "Don't trust him, Baldy! He's scheming something—" but her warning was cut short as Moyu casually flicked two fingers. Golden light flared, and without an incantation, Bakudō 99: Kin descended upon her, binding her limbs and sealing her mouth in a dazzling display of Kidō mastery. "That's better," Moyu said, lowering his hand with infuriating calm. Sweat glistened on Hachigen's brow. "An incantation-less Bakudō Ninety-Nine… As I feared. His Kidō mastery might already surpass Tessai-sama…"
Once again, Moyu's strength shattered expectations. Shinji's expression turned wary, but he said nothing. Hiyori struggled against the golden restraints, eyes blazing with fury, but the spell held firm. "All right," Shinji finally said, tone resigned but composed. "Since you insist…"
Unohana and Kyoraku exchanged a glance but said nothing. Moyu had seized command of the situation, and neither saw reason to interfere.
Inside one of the few remaining intact rooms near the rear of the warehouse, the two captains sat opposite each other at a low table, the air between them humid with residual tension. Two cups of tea steamed gently, the only warmth in the battered space. "This was the only room left standing," Shinji said with a sigh. "Half our base got atomized by your Hadō. Seireitei sure raises monsters." Moyu said nothing, but extended his hand. A soft wave of energy pulsed outward. Bakudō 83: Enchantment Barrier spread through the room, sealing it from external detection and blocking all forms of spiritual surveillance. "Basic defense as well," he added. Shinji glanced around with reluctant admiration. "No wonder they say you're a Kidō specialist. Your control's on par with Tessai himself." Moyu offered no correction. Let him believe it. Let them all misjudge him.
"Let's get to the point," Shinji said, voice quieter now. "Why pull me aside?" He took a sip of tea, the warmth easing some of the lingering ache from the Hadō 88 that had nearly shattered his spine. Moyu answered with a single word: "Aizen." Shinji choked, tea flying from his lips. "Cough… cough… What did you just say?" Moyu remained impassive. "Captain of the Fifth Division. Aizen Sōsuke. Have you forgotten who orchestrated this?" Shinji stared in disbelief. "How do you know about him?"
"Didn't Urahara tell you anything?" Moyu asked, exasperated. "Did he warn you to run before we arrived?" Shinji's silence was answer enough. "Of course not," Moyu muttered. "That man and his secrets." He set down his cup and continued. "I know everything about the Hollowfication incident. I know what Aizen did to you, and what Urahara tried to do to stop it. I even know about the forbidden Kaidō techniques he used in a failed attempt to reverse the transformation."
Shinji's eyes narrowed. "So you're saying you're on our side."
"You could put it that way," Moyu replied, tone even. But Shinji wasn't satisfied. "Sorry. I can't just trust you. Hell, I don't even know if I trust Kisuke anymore. This all started because we trusted the wrong person."
Moyu gave a low chuckle, hiding a knowing smile. As if not trusting Aizen would've changed anything. You think you could've escaped Kyōka Suigetsu? Even if all eight of you had attacked him together, without his Zanpakutō, it would still have been a massacre. When exactly do you think you stopped being under his illusion?
Shinji shifted, visibly uneasy under the weight of Moyu's gaze. Moyu gently clapped his shoulder. "Betrayal makes it hard to trust anyone outside your circle. I get it. But revenge comes with a cost. You'll need to decide how much you're willing to pay."
Shinji hesitated. Moyu's knowledge of Aizen and the incident had shaken him, but trusting a stranger with the lives of his people—after everything—was a risk no leader could take lightly. "Do you have a plan?" he asked cautiously.
"Not a full one," Moyu admitted, lips curling slightly. "But I have an idea. You probably don't know how I became a captain, do you?" Shinji shrugged. "Either six captains nominate you, or three evaluate your skills. If not, you fight the seated captain before two hundred squad witnesses." Moyu nodded. "Correct. I beat Kurotsuchi Mayuri in sanctioned combat and claimed the Twelfth Division."
Shinji blinked but didn't look surprised. After today's fight, nothing would've surprised him. But Moyu wasn't done. "Then that snake teamed up with Tsunayashiro Tokinada to assassinate my uncle. So I killed them both."
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