5th Division, First Special Detention Cell.
She had drawn her blade on Third Division Captain Gin Ichimaru, but with 5th Division Captain Sōsuke Aizen murdered, it wasn't hard to understand why Momo Hinamori—5th Division Lieutenant—had snapped the way she did.
On top of that, 10th Division Captain Tōshirō Hitsugaya stopped her in time before anything worse happened. So in the end, Momo Hinamori was simply confined in the 5th Division's holding cell.
Curled up with her arms around her knees, she stared ahead with empty eyes, her face drawn and exhausted.
Footsteps approached. Momo Hinamori turned her head, and a figure came into view.
Long, blond waves of hair spilled down her back. Her delicate features were set off by the small beauty mark at the corner of her mouth, giving her an almost dazzling allure. Around her neck was a necklace adorned with silver rings; the chain threaded through one ring and vanished into the deep, snow-white cleavage below. Even a loose Shihakushō couldn't fully hide the fullness of her chest, and the pale skin on display made it hard to look away. A peach-colored shawl added a graceful touch with a hint of girlish energy, and the sash of her hakama was tied into a bow at her hip, making her look even more lively.
The 10th Division Lieutenant—Rangiku Matsumoto.
Earlier, on Tōshirō Hitsugaya's orders, she had been the one to restrain Momo Hinamori.
Rangiku Matsumoto's brow creased slightly. Her worried gaze rested on Momo Hinamori's face for a moment before she lifted a hand and slipped a letter through the bars.
Her captain and Momo Hinamori had grown up together, so Rangiku Matsumoto and Momo Hinamori were naturally close as well.
Seeing Momo Hinamori in such a miserable state, Rangiku Matsumoto couldn't help feeling a stab of sympathy.
Momo Hinamori's voice was raw, her eyes still swollen from who-knew-how-long she'd been crying. "This is…"
"It was found in Captain Aizen's room. It's for you."
"Captain Aizen… left this for me?"
"Good thing our captain found it first. If someone else had, it would've been turned in as evidence, and there's no way it would've ever reached you." As Momo Hinamori accepted the letter, Rangiku Matsumoto let out a quiet sigh. "I don't know what's written inside, but as a Lieutenant… having your captain's final words meant for you is a rare kind of blessing. Read it carefully, all right?"
"Thank you…" Momo Hinamori choked on the words, sobbing as she spoke. "Rangiku…san…"
Rangiku Matsumoto's silhouette disappeared from sight. Momo Hinamori lowered her head and, hands trembling, opened the letter.
The handwriting inside was familiar—Captain Aizen's.
Momo,
By the time you read this, I probably won't be coming back.
I've caused you so much trouble. No matter how many times I say thank you, it still doesn't feel like enough.
Even now, I've never told you about the unease I've been carrying.
I hope you can understand why. I was afraid of dragging you into it.
But in the end, I'm going to involve you anyway.
I don't think I'm going to survive.
So I'm writing everything down here, to place the truth in the hands of the person I trust most—you.
Why must Rukia Kuchiki be executed?
Why was the execution date moved up so abruptly?
During my investigation, I uncovered a fact.
Rukia Kuchiki's execution isn't meant to kill her.
It's meant to take something from her.
That something is…
Sōkyoku.
Sōkyoku's seal is only released during an execution. The tip of its spear holds destructive power equal to a million Zanpakutō, and the execution stand possesses matching defensive strength.
Once the execution begins, the moment it severs and pierces a Shinigami's body, that destructive force swells in an instant—multiplying dozens of times over.
The one behind this execution intends to use that power to destroy Seireitei, and even the entire Soul Society.
Years ago, the execution of Muten Natsu served the same purpose. But Muten Natsu survived the Sōkyoku, and that is why they arranged Rukia Kuchiki's execution.
That terrifying person is named…
…
Tōshirō Hitsugaya looked up at the sound of footsteps, then lowered his head again and continued working through the documents.
"I've delivered it," Rangiku Matsumoto said, noticing the tall stacks of paperwork piled on his desk. "That many?"
Even if the 10th Division handled patrol and security duties, and their workload had increased because of the Ryoka, this was still an excessive amount.
"Someone has to take care of the 5th Division's work." Tōshirō Hitsugaya took a sip of hot tea. "You came at the right time. Take these—"
By the time he set his cup down, Rangiku Matsumoto was already fast asleep on the sofa in the office.
"…Honestly." Tōshirō Hitsugaya shook his head in resignation and went back to his paperwork.
Sometimes he wondered who the Lieutenant really was.
Speaking of Lieutenants…
Tōshirō Hitsugaya forced himself not to think about Momo Hinamori. Instead, his thoughts drifted to the report he had received about Izuru Kira's self-harm.
"Izuru…"
In the Third Division's detention cell, claw marks were gouged into the walls everywhere. A once-intact chair had been smashed to pieces, one broken leg sharpened at the end and stained with blood.
Izuru Kira, dressed in restraints, crouched in the corner, his body covered in wounds.
"Ah… I… I actually drew my blade against Hinamori… How could I… How could I do something like that… It's unforgivable… Unforgivable… I'm… I'm truly…"
Unable to move his arms freely, he pressed his hand against his mouth and bit down hard, tearing at the flesh until it was a bloody mess.
Soft footsteps approached.
Izuru Kira suddenly lifted his head. "Wh—who's there?"
"How pitiful." A light, almost teasing voice echoed through the cell. "It's hard to watch."
The tears that had been hovering in his eyes finally spilled over. Izuru Kira's gaze found its focus.
"Captain… Ichimaru!"
"You look absolutely miserable. Truly pitiful." Gin Ichimaru's slender fingers traced along the iron bars, like a thin white snake coiling around them. "You were hoping someone would come save you, weren't you?"
Gin Ichimaru narrowed his eyes in a smile, the corners of his lips curving upward like a serpent baring its fangs.
"Come with me, Izuru."
…
A much younger Rangiku Matsumoto lay on the ground. The drain on her spiritual power had left her too weak to stand. She hadn't eaten in a long time, and she had no strength left.
["Here. Eat."]
A shriveled dried persimmon was held to her lips.
["You must be starving. You have it too, don't you? Spiritual power."]
Rangiku Matsumoto struggled to look at the speaker—silver-white hair, smiling eyes, and that ever-curving grin.
["You… have it too?"]
["Yeah. I do."] The boy replied. ["My name is Gin Ichimaru. Nice to meet you."]
["Gin… That's an unusual name."] Rangiku Matsumoto murmured softly. ["I'm Rangiku Matsumoto."]
Gin Ichimaru took her hand.
["Come with me, Rangiku."]
"Okay…"
Rangiku Matsumoto slowly opened her eyes.
It took her a moment to remember.
The dream she had just seen was from over a hundred years ago.