The First Division's underground great prison.
Rukia had never imagined she would one day be locked in a place like this—cells built for the worst of the worst. No instruments of torture, yet the darkness alone stripped a prisoner of every last shred of hope. Even if you walked out on the day of your sentence to feel sunlight again, there would be no warmth in your heart—only numbness.
Despair comes only after hope is lost. She had passed that stage long ago.
She breathed mechanically, walked mechanically up to the execution stand. Suspended dozens of meters in the air, her face stung by the gale, she strained to take in all of Seireitei spread beneath her—and only then did a ripple stir in her heart.
So this is how I say goodbye to the world?
She lowered her gaze to the crowd and almost at once picked out her brother. She had never even considered he might not come. Seeing Kuchiki Byakuya's calm face gave her a small measure of comfort.
Her only wish now was that her death wouldn't bring more grief to those around her.
"Renji…"
She also noticed the red-haired man at her brother's side—jaw tight, anxious and on edge. Not much sadness there, oddly enough. Did he still think there was a chance?
Impossible. Central 46 would never rescind their decree.
Rukia didn't really understand what the "Hōgyoku" was even now, but she understood the necessity of killing a carrier of a lethal "virus" before it spread. Sometimes the things you do because you have no choice allow no room for objections.
"Begin."
The Head Captain lifted his arm, and the kidō corps jointly released the Sōkyoku—a sky-piercing spear whose look alone was enough to seize the soul with dread. Its point was said to equal the destructive power of a million zanpakutō. They also called it the "Phoenix King."
If it were a true zanpakutō, its wielder would be beyond imagination.
Bindings slipped loose from the shaft in ring after ring as cables shot down to anchor into the bedrock of Sōkyoku Hill, ensuring that even once released, the "Phoenix King" would not simply break free and fly off.
The spear became a vast phoenix that reared back and sang, wings sweeping in arcs that hurled waves of heat. Several onlookers winced and even raised hands to shield their eyes; its brilliance was simply too blinding.
"…"
Rukia slowly closed her eyes. On the brink of death, a question still nagged at her.
Is the Hōgyoku really inside me?
Why can't I feel it at all? Something so terrifying, so dangerous… would it only reveal itself when the Sōkyoku ran me through? But by then my soul would have melted away into nothing. I won't even see what it truly looks like.
To die as collateral, never knowing what dragged me under—what a pathetic life.
She finally understood why her brother refused to intervene. Letting someone of common birth like her into a great house was favor enough; to shield a person like that as well would be shameless.
With that thought, she felt oddly at peace.
The phoenix looked down on its small prey with cool contempt and stooped. Heat scalded her body. Rukia's mind drifted to the past—to her first and second consigned souls after she'd been assigned to the world of the living. Thank goodness they aren't here. To die as a criminal before those two—so talented, so bright—would leave this so-called senior with no face to show.
A metallic shriek.
The phoenix's beak was almost at her thin body when—
"Rukia!"
Renji couldn't hold it any longer. Those two bastards promised days ago everything was foolproof—where the hell are they?! He grabbed his sword, ready to move—only for Byakuya's hand to bar him without a glance.
"Hm?"
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto's long-narrowed eyes opened a fraction as he snapped his gaze skyward.
A thunderclap.
Two torrents of reiatsu dropped from the heavens like meteors. The phoenix stalled mid-dive. People on the ground gaped.
"Wh-what is that?!"
Ōmaeda could barely form words. His hulking body shook, and his knees almost buckled. Sui-Fon's pupils contracted as she locked onto one of the figures hurtling down with unrestrained spiritual pressure. She couldn't believe who it was—much less an entrance like this.
"So they've come…"
Byakuya's expression was grave, as if he'd expected this.
"So you were hiding up there, huh? Had me worried for nothing…"
Renji's shock turned to fierce delight—though… how did they even pull this off?
Mid-fall, weightlessness maxed out, a clipped yet oddly unhurried exchange crackled through the air.
"Ever tried a no-chute freefall, Kurosaki?"
"Why would I? I'm not rich—and I'm not suicidal!"
"Well, you have now!"
"Riding Inoue's shield up near the barrier and jumping in instead of forcing through the perimeter—only you'd think of that, Shinomiya! Was it Yoruichi who inspired you? Go on, I won't laugh. Promise!"
"Just tell me if it worked."
"No kidding! More ideas like this, please. But right now I don't need ideas—I need… Getsuga…"
"Seven Flash!"
The two figures bickering as they fell hit the phoenix's back like hunters stooping from a great height—sudden and shockingly savage.
"…Tenshō!"
Ichigo flipped his grip, blade wreathed in crushing reiatsu, and drove it like a harpoon straight through the phoenix's skull—blasting it apart.
"—Draw!"
The massive body, weaker than the head yet still immense, was hewn to pieces a heartbeat later as Shinomiya Zun unleashed seven rapid "Seven Flashes," chopping it into ragged confetti.
It never even had time to scream.
Phoenix blood rained down—a true firestorm, magnificent and mesmerizing.
"The Sōkyoku's phoenix—d-did they just dismember it…?!"
Ōmaeda stammered.
"It won't die that easily," Sasakibe said, voice low.
Indeed—the phoenix's body was already knitting back together. Fire can't be cut to death.
But while everyone was staring up at the ambush, two figures burst out along the cliff's edge—Yoruichi and Orihime.
"Sōten Kisshun—…I reject!"
Her orange arc cleaved the air. Wherever it passed, the phoenix's remains gathered as if time reversed—collapsing back into a single spear.
The release was forcibly negated.
"What?!"
Few were present, but all were stunned by what the girl had just done. So that was the real kill shot?!
"Nice work, Inoue!"
Ichigo landed on the scaffold after his strike. Seeing the plan take hold and that awful thing suppressed again, his eyes lit.
"Yup. Phase One went smoothly. As for Phase Two…"
Shinomiya dropped beside him, hand on his sword. Wind snapped his black shihakushō; his narrowed eyes cut across the faces below like a hawk's.
"Not many showed. First, Second, and Sixth Divisions."
"Not even a third of the Gotei Thirteen—never mind half. I'd call that a win," Ichigo said, following his lead into a thin smile.
"Well…"
Shinomiya was about to continue when the girl between them finally snapped out of it.
"Y-you idiots! You absolute blockheads! What are you doing? And Inoue—why are you here? Who said you could come rescue me? Do you have any idea what you're doing?!"
Ichigo: "Sorry, but no matter what you say, I can't accept a verdict that makes no sense."
Shinomiya: "Sorry, but no matter what you say, I can't stand pompous people killing at will."
They arched identical brows and traded a look—like, hey, you stole my line.
"Y-you two…"
Rukia's lips trembled. The shock was almost too much.
"Say nothing now. Save it for when this is over. If you must say something, there's only one line that fits you right now."
Shinomiya's face hardened.
"Yeah."
Ichigo's expression matched his—brows knitted, voice low.
"'I want to live.'"
"Whether anyone came for you or not—whether we can get you out or not—just say that. You said it yourself: you're no great figure. A person that ordinary can't be eager to die."
"Inoue believed—still believes—you want to live. You want to disappoint her?"
Rukia's eyes dropped to the ground—and met Orihime's upturned gaze. The angle tugged free a memory: back then, Orihime lay in a pool of blood, and she stood over her. Now the vantage was the same, but their places had swapped. One thing hadn't changed: the heart willing to save the other, at any cost—on both sides.
"Forget your pride. Say it loud. The rest… leave to us."
The force in Shinomiya's voice made clear how unbreakable his will was. Standing so near such iron resolve, Rukia could only bow to it.
Tears in her eyes, she cried out: "I—I want to live!"
Fragile, shaking—yet the thin voice carried over the summit of Sōkyoku Hill and into every ear, including those above.
"Now that's the spirit," Ichigo grinned.
Shinomiya's thumb flicked. One heavy slash and an invisible blade of pressure severed the scaffold, breaking the symbol of death that bound her.
"W-waaah! You two…!"
But they didn't catch her. They let her fall. Fortunately, Orihime was ready—one sweep, "Santen Kesshun," and the shield caught her. Otherwise, the fall would've been ugly.
"Lady Kuchiki—!"
"This isn't the time to chat. We're pulling out!"
Yoruichi yanked the two girls and ran. She could already feel the killing intent bearing down.
"What a terrifying aura. Whose is it?"
Only part of that killing intent was aimed at the retreating trio; most of it targeted the two brazen maniacs on the scaffold.
"Who do you think…"
Shinomiya watched the Head Captain advance.
"Change of venue, Kurosaki."
"Right."
Ichigo's mouth twitched. In the next instant, both vanished in shunpō. Yamamoto snorted and disappeared as well.
"What are you waiting for? After them!"
Sui-Fon's eyes flared. She snapped in fury.
"Uh… Captain? Which way are we chasing?" Ōmaeda ventured.
That shut her up.
Steel rang—reiatsu crashed—Renji was crossing blades with Byakuya.
"I won't let you go after them, Captain Kuchiki!"
"Oh? I don't know where your confidence comes from, but…"
Byakuya started to release his zanpakutō—finish this quickly and pursue Rukia—when a figure stepped between them.
"Captain Kuchiki. I may not have the right to 'clean house' for you, but the Head Captain authorized me to intervene in emergencies. Leave this disloyal subordinate to me."
"Vice-Captain Sasakibe?"
The normally unobtrusive Chōjirō Sasakibe's appearance startled them both.
"I understand. He's yours."
Byakuya looked at the back that had shadowed the Head Captain for who knows how many years, then sheathed his blade and flash-stepped away.
"Hey! I didn't say you could—!"
Renji lunged to stop him—only for a cold streak to stab past his face. If he hadn't jerked aside, he'd have a new hole.
"Wait…"
He noticed something alarming. He stared at the Western-style rapier in Sasakibe's hand.
Did he… not even call its name?
"Vice-Captain Abarai. Draw. Show me where you found the nerve to bare your blade at your superior."
Sasakibe folded his left hand behind his back, let the blade spin in a brief flourish, then held it upright before his chest. His eyes were deep, worlds away from the strait-laced, faintly comical man people thought they knew. The reiatsu rolling off him was enough to make you wonder if a captain was masquerading.
"I can guess—you're thinking of Bankai, aren't you? If that's your hidden trump, I'm afraid I must disappoint you. I reached that level… a thousand years ago."
"Damn…"
Cold sweat slid down Renji's temple. This man was on a level he couldn't fathom. But all he could do now… was fight.
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