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Inside the Twelfth Division barracks, Moyu gazed at the expressionless girl before him, mind swirling with doubts. Nieyinmeng, known for her cold demeanor, stood still like a silent statue. Her presence wasn't what startled him—it was the context. After all, he had killed Kurotsuchi Mayuri with his own hands. By all logic, Nieyinmeng should've attacked him on sight. Her loyalty to her creator had always seemed absolute. Yet here she stood—calm, composed, eerily neutral.
Moyu couldn't help but wonder if Mayuri had already begun preparations for resurrection.
"Mr. Moyu, please stop looking at me like I'm some enigma," she said, her voice flat and detached. "Master Mayuri is indeed dead. But resurrection remains a possibility—albeit a remote one." Moyu nodded slightly, not surprised. "It will be an extremely long process," she continued. "It could take a hundred years. Perhaps longer."
"So, that's why you came here?" Moyu asked, watching her closely, searching her blank eyes for even a flicker of change. It was pointless—she remained devoid of expression.
"Before Master Mayuri passed, he sent one final message to the Research and Development Bureau." Without warning, she raised her arm and pulled back her sleeve, revealing a dark, shimmering mark on her pale skin. Moyu's eyes narrowed. "Wait... this looks familiar." His fingers moved instinctively, brushing the symbol, a cool, almost jade-like sensation meeting his touch.
"Ultimate Reiatsu..." he muttered, memory surfacing.
"So it's called Ultimate Reiatsu?" she replied in the same tone. "I remember now."
"How did you get this?" he asked, puzzled. He had destroyed all traces of lingering reiatsu in his battle with Mayuri—there shouldn't have been anything left to collect.
"The first time you fought Master Mayuri," she explained, "your blade pierced his body. At that moment, the spiritual particle capture device within him activated. This fragment of Ultimate Reiatsu was gathered then, stored, and later transferred into this mark."
Moyu's brows furrowed. Mayuri's obsession with preparation defied comprehension. Was this what it meant to be a scientist—to obsess even beyond death? Then something else struck him. The intricate lines of the mark reminded him of the etchings on the back blade of Lan Yin Shikai.
"So then—what's your goal, coming here?"
She didn't hesitate. Nieyinmeng lowered herself to the floor, hands on her knees, bowing deeply. "I am here to obey all of Mr. Moyu's orders."
Moyu's breath caught—not because of her words, but because of the sudden shift in angle. With her sudden bow, a stark expanse of pale skin flashed into view, directly in his line of sight. He coughed twice, flustered. "Cough... cough... ahem... Look, I'm going to need more than that to trust you."
But before he could finish, his eyes widened. "Wait—what the hell are you doing?!"
Nieyinmeng had straightened, but her uniform had slipped halfway off her shoulders. "According to research," she began, still flat, "when a male Shinigami is faced with a female Shinigami willing to display honesty through physical vulnerability, trust increases significantly. This is the most effective method I've found."
Moyu stared blankly, brain lagging several seconds behind his instincts. Then—panic. "Stop! Stop that! Put your uniform back on!" he yelped, frantically pulling her robes up. Though often glib, Moyu was clearly out of his depth. Not to mention—they were in the captain's office. If anyone walked in, the misunderstanding would go down in Seireitei history.
He could already imagine the headline in the Seireitei Bulletin:
Shocking! Captain of the Tenth Division and Acting Captain of the Twelfth Engage in Scandalous Behavior?
Secret Relationship Exposed? What's Really Going on Between Captain Moyu and Acting Captain Nieyinmeng?!
Just the thought made his skin crawl. "Phew..." He exhaled after fixing her collar. "Nieyinmeng, there's no need to go that far."
She bowed again. "Apologies for embarrassing Mr. Moyu." Her voice was still flat, but he sensed sincerity beneath it.
"If this is Mayuri's last command," he muttered, then sighed, "Fine. Let's assign you to the Bōsu District. Continue your duties as normal... and keep this quiet."
"Understood," she said, nodding with mechanical precision. It was clear she now viewed Moyu as her primary directive—her new anchor.
"Go back for now," Moyu said, waving her off. "Return to the Twelfth Division."
"Yes." She turned and walked away.
As she reached the door, Moyu called, "And don't drop by the Tenth Division without reason!"
She paused for just a second—subtle, but enough to make him suspicious. So she wouldn't follow every order. She's changing. After Mayuri's death, this so-called emotionless girl had begun to develop her own thoughts. Things were far more complicated than they appeared.
---
Three Days Later
Moyu received the Shinigami identification pass and a customized death uniform from the First Division. Hirako Shinji's return was now official. More importantly, the uniform contained a spirit particle position tracker—undetectable unless fully destroyed. Another invention from the Tech Bureau. Moyu wasn't thrilled, but it was necessary. At least now, Shinji could avoid falling into any lingering traps from Aizen's schemes.
"Hirako," Moyu said, pushing the uniform toward him, "This tracker is Central 46's bottom line. Please accept it."
Shinji grinned and shrugged. "Small price to pay. I've endured Aizen's games. What's a little tailoring?"
Moyu nodded, relieved it went so smoothly. "Oh, right. Since you're a member of the Tenth Division now... there are a few tasks that need handling."
Shinji's smile faltered. "Wait, what?"
Before he could protest, Moyu heaved a literal mountain of documents onto the table. "Hitsugaya's been lost in training, and Rangiku's still dodging work. So—you're up."
Shinji stared blankly at the towering stack. "I just got here... I'm a squad member, not a secretary..."
"Everyone starts somewhere," Moyu replied, already halfway out the door. "Besides, your captain experience far outweighs mine. Use it to help the Gotei."
"Alright... fine..." Shinji mumbled, defeated.
Moyu smiled. With Shinji and Tōshirō around, the Tenth Division would practically run itself. With his hands behind his back, he strolled away, Nilu walking beside him. Peace, at last.
---
Meanwhile, in the First Division
Yamamoto Genryūsai remained deeply concerned with the remaining Visored. Shunsui had confirmed they showed no signs of Hollowfication, and if they could be brought back, the Gotei 13's strength would rise dramatically. Unfortunately, their locations remained unknown. The Second Division had taken over intelligence-gathering. For now, both Seireitei and the world of the living seemed calm.
But Shunsui knew better.
He had concealed the truth behind the Hollow incident—especially the failure that led to Yadomaru Lisa's downfall. His guilt ran deep. Though Yamamoto had trusted him most, their ideals diverged sharply. When the Wandenreich invaded, Yamamoto had died, and Shunsui took the mantle. To preserve the Gotei, he had made controversial choices—releasing Aizen, sacrificing Unohana to elevate Zaraki. These were things Yamamoto would never have allowed. Their justice was not the same.
---
At the Eighth Division
Ise Nanao glanced at her captain lying on the rooftop, his gaze distant. She didn't disturb him. It had been a long time since he looked this troubled. The last time, she hadn't even joined the division yet. But if she approached now, she would hear him whisper:
"The sky over Seireitei feels... shrouded. Moyu... what path will you choose?"
---
Rukongai – Underground Facility
In a dimly lit base, Ichimaru Gin tapped delicately on a keyboard as data flooded the screen before him. "Found it," he murmured with a thin smile. "Traces of Quincy... in Hara City, Aogu Town, and Karakura Town."
His Kyoto-accented voice curled through the silence. "Captain Aizen... are we really doing this?"
From the shadows, a figure emerged. Footsteps echoed—steady, patient, deliberate. The sheer pressure would have crushed a lesser soul.
"Let it proceed, Gin," Aizen said softly, adjusting his glasses. "Moyu's interference has altered the board. Someone thinks they can step off the board—and become a player." He looked up at the screen, eyes scanning the data calmly. "But reality is often more complex than one imagines."
A long pause.
Then, with a serene, calculated smile, he whispered:
"Next... it's my turn."
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