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"It is nothing more than fulfilling the duties of a captain."
Moyū's voice was steady as he faced Ichimaru Gin.
Another presence soon arrived. The second captain to answer the disturbance was Tōsen Kaname—the blind man of justice. What surprised Moyū was that although Tōsen could not see him, he could still sense a faint kindness radiating from him.
That same kindness recalled Tōsen's past. A close friend murdered by a relative. A promise of justice cast aside and trampled beneath the heel of Tsunayashiro Tokinada. Though Tōsen had long declared his ties to the past severed, the memory still lingered like a scar that never healed.
"Is that so?" Gin's sly tone cut the moment short.
He turned his attention to the intruders: Kusajishi Yachiru, lieutenant of the Eleventh Division, Madarame Ikkaku, third seat, and Ayasegawa Yumichika, fifth seat.
"Are you three prepared to fight to the very end," Gin asked, his grin gleaming like the edge of a predator's fang, "or will you surrender quietly?"
"Of course—" Ikkaku began, but his words faltered.
Across the bridge he saw Moyū's shadow. The pressure spilling from him was enough to crush thought itself. He remembered vividly the power Moyū had shown in the world of the living. If it had been another captain, he might still have chosen to fight. Even Zaraki Kenpachi would never strip him of his will to clash blades.
But Moyū was different.
The gap was despair itself. A human youth had once stolen Renji's spirit energy and already fought on the level of a seated officer, yet even that man's Zanpakutō had been broken between Moyū's fingers like brittle glass. The difference was not of degree, but of dimension.
Against such force, the desire to fight was not bravery—it was delusion.
"That's it," Ikkaku muttered. His Reiatsu dissipated, the struggle abandoned.
Yumichika exhaled, resignation hidden beneath elegance. From the moment Gin and Tōsen appeared, the outcome had already been sealed.
"Thank you, Captain Moyū," Gin said cheerfully, binding the four of them with Kidō as though it were child's play. His smile was sharp and sly.
"I only arrived in time," Moyū replied, his voice flat.
Gin chuckled, tilting his head. "Now, now, no need to be so modest. Without you, this would hardly have been so simple."
The three captains escorted the prisoners directly to the First Division. To trespass upon the Repentance Palace and commit a prison break was an act that Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto could not overlook. Yet, weighing the culprits' identities and their bonds of loyalty, Yamamoto's judgment was not immediate. The would-be rescuers were confined within the Ninth Division barracks under Tōsen's custody until Renji's impending execution concluded. Only then would their sentence be declared.
When the matter closed, Moyū turned to leave—only for Yamamoto to halt him with a single command.
"Captain Moyū, remain. There is a matter concerning your duties."
Startled, Moyū stopped. Soon, the office was emptied of all others. Silence settled like dust. Though curious, Moyū waited without speaking.
At last, Yamamoto's ancient voice broke the stillness.
"Captain Moyū, do you hold doubts regarding Abarai Renji's fate?"
Moyū's eyes flickered with surprise. He did not answer immediately. Yamamoto continued without reproach.
"Do you remember what I told you before? Seireitei is no longer the same. Dark clouds hang over us, heavy and unbroken."
A long pause.
Finally Moyū said, "Times change, but Seireitei stands still. Corruption does not only eat away at Central 46—it festers across the world itself."
He did not address the original question, but Yamamoto only lowered his gaze, his face worn like a dying flame at dusk.
"I see. The old man understands."
When Moyū left the First Division barracks, his thoughts lingered on Yamamoto's intent. From the beginning, the captain-commander had sensed something amiss. Yet Aizen Sōsuke's careful subtlety left no trace. Even suspicion slid toward Gin's ever-smiling face, foxlike and dangerous.
Unable to pierce the truth, Yamamoto had placed his hopes on Moyū—the fastest Shinigami in history to attain the rank of captain. In his eyes, Moyū was the symbol of a new era.
Moyū walked calmly back toward his own division, silent as he considered the curtain about to rise.
Seven days slipped by.
For that time, Moyū allowed himself idleness. He ignored training, claiming rest would better temper strength. He handled division business when required, drank often with Matsumoto Rangiku, and endured her endless boasts about outdrinking him—though she was always the first to collapse.
Now the appointed day had come.
At noon, Abarai Renji would face the Sōkyoku. By the time the blade fell, his life would end. Until that moment, he had but half a day left to breathe.
Ichigo and the others had not yet appeared.
"Was the time simply too short?" Moyū set down his cup and looked through the window.
Suddenly, the emergency alarm split the calm.
A high-pitched alert resonated throughout Seireitei, the special signal devised by the Department of Research and Development. Its sound meant only one thing—intruders.
"Emergency, emergency! Intruders detected in Seireitei. All squads hold your positions. Repeat, intruders detected in Seireitei!"
The voice carried across all divisions, stirring panic.
"What's happening? Has an enemy force invaded?"
"No, the monitors report distorted reactions—!"
The term, coined by the Research Bureau, meant souls had crossed the boundary into Soul Society through illegal means. Such souls were branded absolute intruders—ryoka.
Moyū rose, walking to the window. His gaze turned south.
"So. Urahara… you really did it."
In his Reiatsu perception, he felt them—Ichigo and his companions, their energy already burning on the high ground of the Repentance Palace.
Ichigo's spiritual pressure shocked him most. Once a rushing river, scattered and unshaped, it had become a vast and endless sea. The power that radiated from him was deep, condensed, and terrifyingly controlled. Without Moyū's unique perception, even he might not have been able to sense it.
"With that power… Byakuya may not be able to kill him."
"Nilu. Come."
Moyū left the barracks, a petite figure trailing in his steps. Hirako Shinji, meanwhile, had already vanished with the dawn to begin his own move.
The hour of execution approached.
As captain, Moyū would attend the Sōkyoku Hill. Yet with the ryoka's arrival, nothing would proceed as planned.
Elsewhere, in the Fifth Division headquarters—
A scream ripped the air.
"Ahhhhhh!"
The sound was Momo Hinamori's, shrill and broken. She stared ahead, her eyes wide with despair. Her world shattered before her.
Pinned to the high wall opposite, a corpse hung crucified by a blade. Blood streamed downward in rivers, pooling beneath the body. His eyes were dim, his life extinguished.
The dead man was none other than Aizen Sōsuke.
By the time others rushed to the scene, shock silenced even the captains. Before the intruders had even arrived, Aizen—captain of the Fifth Division—had already been murdered. It was the boldest of provocations.
Kyoraku Shunsui and Ukitake Jūshirō reached the site together, their eyes fixed on the spectacle.
Shunsui narrowed his gaze, watching the corpse nailed to the wall.
"Is this Reiatsu false?" he murmured. "Or is there another hand at work here…"
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