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The Fifth Division's barracks were quiet.
Aizen Sōsuke sat at his desk, brush gliding across the paper with unhurried precision. The ink strokes flowed as steadily as his breathing.
The air warped. A shadow stepped through the distortion.
Beneath a black hood, a sly, half-smiling face emerged. Narrowed eyes gave away nothing but the hint of a concealed thought.
The Kyoto-laced drawl broke the stillness.
"Captain Aizen, the investigation's done."
Ichimaru Gin lowered his gaze, voice smooth. "Just like you guessed—Moyu probably knows more than he lets on."
Aizen did not look up. He continued shaping the final kanji, then spoke as if discussing the weather.
"It doesn't matter. If Moyu wants to step away from this game, let him. It might be more interesting with him alive."
He set the brush aside and rose. "If that's confirmed, Gin, you can go."
Gin paused a heartbeat. His fox's grin faltered, then widened even further.
"I see, Aizen-taichō."
The faint ripple of a spiritual mask enveloped him, and Gin vanished as silently as he'd arrived.
Aizen cloaked himself in the same masking technique, suppressing his spiritual pressure until not even the most vigilant guard could sense him.
"Time to move forward," he murmured. "And clear away the insects first."
Night had smothered Seireitei beneath a cover of black clouds. No moonlight reached the streets, only the sharp wind carrying a faint metallic tang.
Patrolling guards walked their assigned routes with rigid focus. Every step was measured, every breath restrained. None noticed the figure who passed them, invisible under his spiritual concealment.
Aizen's destination lay beneath the city—the underground audience hall of the Central 46 Chambers.
Tonight, part of Soul Society's rotting foundation would be removed. The self-styled sages and judges were not just corrupt—they were useful only as tools.
The heavy barriers and Kidō traps warding the hall posed no obstacle. He stepped through them like mist and emerged inside the chamber.
Forty-six robed figures sat on raised platforms, their eyes dulled from years of unchallenged authority.
Aizen removed his hood, dispelling the light-bending Kidō that masked his face.
Gasps broke the stale air.
"Who are you? How did you enter the chamber—?!"
"Captain Aizen Sōsuke of the Fifth Division?!"
"Have you come to defy our authority?!"
Arrogance returned quickly to their voices. In their minds, Central 46 was untouchable—even by a Gotei 13 captain.
But the guards did not come. Shouts for aid went unanswered. A heavy quiet settled over the hall.
One judge's voice rang out from above. "Leave now, Aizen, or you will face eternal confinement in the underground prison."
Aizen tilted his head slightly, a faint smile playing at his lips.
"Are you speaking to me?"
The words stoked their anger.
"How dare a mere Fifth Division captain—!"
A blade flashed. A slash split the screen above, revealing a startled judge whose final sensation was the cold edge at his throat. Blood spilled down the dais.
"My lord judge!"
"You dare attack us?! This is treason!"
More shouts went into the communication system, summoning the Eighth Division guards—yet outside, the patrols walked on in vacant silence.
Aizen raised Kyōka Suigetsu, his eyes unreadable. The chamber erupted into chaos.
"Aizen Sōsuke! Stop! This is sacred ground!"
"You'll be cast into Hell itself for this!"
Their voices shook. For the first time, these untouchable figures tasted fear.
The blade lowered in a calm, deliberate motion. Desperate bursts of Kidō flared from the benches, but they broke uselessly against the gulf of power.
Kyōka Suigetsu's mirrored surface warped their terrified reflections.
"I'd explain, but that would be a waste of time."
Curses, cries, and pleas for mercy tangled in the air—then fell silent in a single breath. The chamber returned to its usual stillness, only the dead left to bear witness.
Footsteps echoed toward the exit. Aizen looked once over the bodies, lips curving faintly.
"Peace is best appreciated after the insects are gone."
---
At the Tenth Division barracks, Moyu sat on a futon, drinking from the cup Matsumoto Rangiku had just poured.
"What is it with you?" he asked. "You don't usually get friendly without a reason."
He remembered too well her last attempt—drugging his drink just to embarrass him.
"Captain, I want to ask you something…"
Her voice trailed, but before she could speak, another voice came from the doorway.
"Sorry to interrupt."
Hirako Shinji stepped in, smiling in that crooked way of his.
"News about Abarai Renji just reached your division. The Technology Development Bureau picked up his trace—in Karakura Town, of all places."
Rangiku blinked. Shinji added, "If nothing goes wrong, his captain will bring him back. If Ukitake can't, they might send someone with more… force."
Moyu felt a bead of cold sweat. If they sent Zaraki Kenpachi, Renji and Kurosaki Ichigo might end up cut down on sight.
"Old Man Yamamoto's not that reckless," Moyu muttered. "First Division will handle it."
The next day, Seireitei buzzed with new orders.
After a thorough investigation, the Bureau confirmed Renji's presence in the human world. Relief at finding him was short-lived—he had broken Soul Society law by transferring Shinigami powers to a human, creating a new Shinigami.
At the Tenth Division, a fully robed envoy arrived to deliver the judgment.
"Captain Moyu. Vice-Captain Matsumoto. This is a confidential order."
Moyu accepted the sealed scroll, broke it open, and read the contents.
"Well… this is unexpected."
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