"So that's how it is."
After learning about Kenpachi Muguruma's past, Gosuke Shigure nodded thoughtfully.
Some of Kyoraku Shunsui's words had been vague and indirect, but Gosuke was perceptive enough to read between the lines. When Kyoraku mentioned "some people," he was clearly referring to the noble houses.
In the end, nobility was little more than a glorified label.
Despite their elevated status, nobles were often no more virtuous than commoners. They were like predatory beasts draped in silk—feeding not just off the souls of ordinary people, but even competing fiercely among themselves. In Soul Society's long history, countless noble families had risen and vanished, consumed by their own internal power struggles or sacrificed in battles against Hueco Mundo.
That Kenpachi Muguruma—once known as Shōya Muguruma—had suffered at the hands of such internal corruption was sadly unsurprising.
Having heard all this, Gosuke Shigure didn't continue prying into Kenpachi's past. Instead, he drank quietly with Kyoraku Shunsui.
Since they had already come to such an "adult-only" place, they might as well enjoy the moment.
Especially since Kyoraku Shunsui was the one footing the bill.
Gosuke's eyes wandered to the large stage outside the private room, where a graceful Kabuki performer danced with sensual fluidity. The ornate silk costume shimmered under warm lanterns, the delicate fragrance of incense blending with the scent of sake and rouge in the air. He couldn't help but appreciate the dancer's artful movements.
Kyoraku Shunsui, swirling a cup of sake in his hand, smiled and remarked, "You know, Gosuke, I thought someone like you might not enjoy a place like this. But now, it seems I've misjudged you."
Gosuke Shigure chuckled and replied, "Is there a man alive who doesn't enjoy this kind of place?"
"Those who claim they don't are either not men at all—or they've buried their desires so deep beneath ambition or trauma that even beauty can't stir them."
Shunsui paused, then burst into soft laughter. "Hah… that's well said."
But his thoughts drifted again—to Kenpachi Muguruma.
"Muguruma… what kind of man are you really?"
Shunsui still didn't know the new Kenpachi very well. The man who had defeated Tsukiyashiki and taken the title of Kenpachi remained an enigma. There was something dangerous beneath the surface, and perhaps that was why Shunsui had initially tried to befriend him—hoping to soften his edges before they turned against Soul Society itself.
The night continued with song and dance.
Though Gosuke was more restrained due to Shunsui's presence, he did enjoy the wine and performance. He didn't indulge too far—after all, being the lieutenant of the Eleventh Division came with its own expectations, and showing weakness was not among them.
By the time they left Kabukichō, the moonless sky had stretched its shroud across Seireitei.
The smell of alcohol still clung to their robes as they parted ways and returned to their respective divisions.
Back at the Eleventh Division headquarters, Gosuke remained unusually sober despite the amount he'd drunk. His mind was sharp, his steps steady as he returned to finalize the day's unfinished paperwork.
But just as he stepped near the captain's quarters, a lone figure in the courtyard caught his attention.
Gosuke's eyes narrowed. A silent presence under the starless sky, his silhouette like a statue in the dark.
"Captain…" Gosuke said, his tone alert yet composed.
Kenpachi Muguruma stood motionless before the captain's room. Without moonlight to illuminate him, his features were hidden in shadow.
"It's you, Gosuke," Muguruma replied in his usual curt voice.
"I was invited by Captain Kyoraku for drinks," Gosuke explained casually. Then, pausing, he asked, "It's late. Why are you out here alone instead of resting?"
Kenpachi didn't respond immediately.
A heavy silence stretched between them, until he suddenly asked, "Gosuke… what do you think of Hueco Mundo?"
Gosuke's mind snapped to attention. He hadn't expected such a question.
Still, he answered honestly. "Hueco Mundo and Soul Society are two sides of the same coin. After humans die, their souls are either purified or lost—some end up in Soul Society, others become Hollows in Hueco Mundo. Both exist within the balance of the world. Even if Hollows devour and destroy, their existence is necessary to that equilibrium."
"Shinigami exist to maintain that balance—cutting down Hollows, performing soul burials, preserving the cycle."
"Balance, huh…" Kenpachi murmured. There was a strange tone in his voice. Gosuke couldn't quite place it—disapproval? Resentment?
Then, the captain added in a low voice, "That's your opinion."
It wasn't praise or condemnation. Just a flat statement.
And somehow, that made it more unsettling.
Before Gosuke could ask what he meant, Kenpachi asked again, "And what's your opinion on the nobility?"
That question hit harder.
Could he really answer such a question?
Though he was a lieutenant now, Gosuke Shigure had been born a commoner in Rukongai. He'd fought for every scrap of status he had. He knew the weight of nobility's control over Seireitei—the Central 46, the noble clans, the way power flowed upward and never down.
It was the nobles who defined what justice was. It was they who decided which Shinigami rose and which fell.
To speak poorly of them, even in private, was to risk everything.
He hesitated.
"I see," Kenpachi said, exhaling softly, as if disappointed.
"I guess that means you can't answer."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the compound.
Gosuke stood in silence, watching him leave.
His mind returned to the conversation with Kyoraku in Kabukichō—the history of the Muguruma family, the tragedy, the fall, the contradictions. A noble who'd rejected nobility, a warrior who bore the title of Kenpachi yet refused its spotlight.
---
After that night, Kenpachi never brought up Hueco Mundo or the nobility again.
He remained just as cold and aloof as he had when he arrived.
Yet in combat, his sword never faltered.
The men of the Eleventh Division still didn't grow close to him, but their resentment gradually dulled. Over time, they began to accept this quiet, brooding Kenpachi as their leader.
Gosuke, too, adjusted to life as lieutenant.
Peace returned.
Time passed.
A year went by—nothing to a Shinigami, barely a blink compared to their long lives.
Then, one day, as Gosuke was once again drinking with Kyoraku Shunsui, the captain leaned closer, voice low, eyes serious.
He shared a piece of news.
A piece of news that would mark the beginning of the next change in Seireitei.