Bleach: The Shinigami’s Zanpakutō That Unleashed Bankai On Its Own

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Captain Unohana's safe return brought relief to the Fourth Division, but Seireitei stirred once more. News of the Eleventh Division's heavy casualties spread quickly, followed by confirmation of a Menos Grande sighting in South Rukongai's thirty-ninth district. One shock after another left the Gotei 13 unsteady. While the Eleventh fumed, the other squads processed the reports in silence.

Moyu paid none of it much attention. His concern was elsewhere.

After helping Unohana treat Aramaki, he learned that Ikkaku might've revealed something he shouldn't—about Moyu's strength. That detail had reached Zaraki Kenpachi. And since Byakuya was already on Zaraki's list, the name "Kuchiki Moyu" had drawn interest. The Eleventh Division's captain had started wandering Seireitei, looking for a fight.

Luckily, both he and Yachiru were hopeless at navigation. They hadn't found Moyu yet. Ikkaku, realizing the danger, didn't volunteer directions either.

Still, Moyu knew this calm wouldn't last.

What occupied him more was something else.

"Why does the Captain want to see me?" he muttered, seated stiffly across from Unohana.

"The Reiatsu disappearance was reported to the First Division," she replied lightly. "And your actions in Seireitei have drawn attention. A meeting was inevitable."

Moyu exhaled, eyes narrowed. He respected Yamamoto Genryūsai, and respected him deeply. Every force that had ever threatened Soul Society—from Aizen to Yhwach—had marked the man as their first obstacle. Rightfully so. The old man wasn't just a captain. He was a wall.

He was the wall.

Unohana led him through the corridors of the First Division. They walked in silence, taking multiple turns until they reached a crimson shoji. Two Shinigami flanked the entrance, dressed in black with deep blue sashes. A single white chrysanthemum bloomed on each hip—a symbol of sincerity.

"Captain Unohana. Third Seat Kuchiki," one of them said respectfully. "The Head-Captain is waiting."

The doors opened.

The room was minimalist, precisely arranged—much like its master. But what caught Moyu off guard wasn't the decor. It was who was inside.

Byakuya Kuchiki.

And opposite him, Kuchiki Ginrei—the 27th Head of the Clan.

So it wasn't just a summons. This was something else.

Moyu straightened slightly. If both were here, Yamamoto likely wasn't planning to burn him to ash. At least not today.

"Oh, Moyu," Ginrei sighed with disappointment. "You've still never learned proper noble etiquette."

Moyu shrugged. "Leave that to Byakuya. He enjoys it more than I ever could."

They took their places around a dark blue table. Five cups had already been set. Tea drifted softly in the air, calming but not enough to ease Moyu's tension. He nodded respectfully.

"Captain."

Yamamoto didn't speak. Eyes closed, he gave no response. Only when Moyu finally sat did they open—just enough.

"I assume this isn't a casual tea gathering," Moyu said lightly.

Four gazes met his at once. It felt heavier than battle.

He tried to stay composed, but in a room like this, even he struggled.

After a pause, Yamamoto's voice rumbled out, calm yet absolute.

"Moyu. Third Seat of the Sixth."

"Concerning the Menos Grande that appeared in the thirty-ninth district of South Rukongai—what do you know?"

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