The blazing sunlight scorched the blood-stained steps, and the heavy scent of blood hung in the air.
Meanwhile, a fierce battle to protect Kuchiki Rukia had finally ended, leaving two heavily scarred men on the battlefield.
Abarai Renji slammed to the ground, gravel biting into his wounds. The pain was immense, but even more overwhelming was the crushing sense of powerlessness surging through him.
Blood soaked his shinigami uniform, glaringly bright under the sun, sliding down his cheek and dripping onto the scorching ground.
Renji looked up at the blinding sky, vision blurred by sweat and blood, his voice hoarse and broken:
"Even until the end… I still… couldn't defeat Captain Kuchiki… even once…"
He tried to turn his neck, to focus on the figure standing firm despite the blood, the orange-haired Kurosaki Ichigo.
All of Renji's obsession, all of his pride, transformed in that instant into a solemn entrustment:
"Kurosaki…! I beg you…! You must… save Rukia!!"
Before the words could even finish, the will that had driven him throughout the fight collapsed completely. His head slumped to the side, leaving only faint, rapid breaths behind.
Ichigo stood silently under the scorching sun, chest heaving, every wound still bleeding. Renji's final, desperate roar was etched into his heart like a burning brand.
He said nothing, glancing past the fallen Renji toward the distant silhouette of the Palace of Penitence, silently accepting a mission heavier than a thousand pounds.
First Division Barracks, Captains' Meeting Room
The heavy wooden door closed behind him, shutting out the hallway light. Inside, the atmosphere was taut.
Captain-Commander Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto's staff struck the floor with a heavy echo. His silver-white beard hung to his chest, and the cross-shaped scar on his right cheek seemed even deeper in the flickering sunlight.
He surveyed the captains lined up on either side, aged eyes sharp and assessing every face—solemn, contemplative, or amused.
"In less than a day," Yamamoto's voice rumbled like muffled thunder, "Sixth Division lieutenant Abarai Renji is critically wounded. Spiritual Pressure of multiple Fifth Division lieutenants has vanished… the Eleventh Division is virtually wiped out."
His gaze subtly passed over Kuchiki Byakuya, standing like the blade of Senbonzakura—stern, composed, lips pressed thin, betraying a faint ripple of emotion.
"The situation can no longer be contained by ordinary alert measures!"
He slammed his staff down. "Prepare for total war. Effective immediately—"
"All restrictions are lifted! Any enemy encountered during the invasion may be engaged fully with your Zanpakuto!"
The command fell like a giant stone into a stagnant pond, rippling silently. Captains' reactions varied.
In the back, Third Division Captain Ichimaru Gin's signature squint deepened slightly, fox-like amusement in his gaze.
Seireitei Corridor, After the Meeting
Captain of the 10th Division, Tōshirō Hitsugaya, did not follow the dispersing crowd. His brow furrowed beneath ice-blue hair, a solemnness unnatural for his youth. He waited.
Soon, his gaze locked on the petite figure of Fifth Division lieutenant Hinamori Momo.
"Hinamori!" His voice carried concern he struggled to suppress, maintaining Captain's composure.
"Ah, Hitsugaya?" Hinamori turned, her delicate face shadowed by worry from the meeting, but her eyes softened seeing him.
Hitsugaya stopped before her, ice-green eyes serious. "Protect yourself. Don't worry about the Ryoka… but be wary of the Third Division."
Hinamori's brow furrowed. "The Third Division? Lieutenant Kira and the others…? Why?"
Deep down, she trusted her colleagues, especially Kira.
"Yes. Especially their captain—Ichimaru Gin," Hitsugaya emphasized. "He is… dangerous. I've watched him for a long time. There's an indescribable strangeness about him."
Hinamori's expression shifted, recalling how Ichimaru had provoked Captain Aizen, whom she respected.
"Captain Ichimaru Gin… although he always smiles, he seems… strange… but it doesn't seem like—"
"Hinamori!" Hitsugaya interrupted sharply, tone unprecedentedly severe.
"Don't be fooled by appearances! At this critical juncture, even a slight oversight could be fatal. Do not interact with him alone, and never trust any information he conveys!"
Seeing her lingering skepticism, Hitsugaya vowed silently to protect her.
In the Shadows
Not far, in a shadow cast by a sun-scorched pillar, a slender figure blended seamlessly with the darkness. His silver-white hair reflected the sun coldly.
Ichimaru Gin tilted his head, examining the courtyard flowers with peculiar interest, eyes narrowed into slits capturing every subtle movement of Hitsugaya and Hinamori.
The curve of his mouth deepened, venomous and unseen.
"Wary… hehehe…"
His fingers, hidden in wide sleeves, brushed the cold hilt of Shinsō. To him, lifting combat restrictions was far more than a mere rule change—it was the removal of constraints from a carefully choreographed drama.
The Seireitei, tense under the invasion, seemed to play another melody only he could hear.
Then, noticing a letter, he paused.
"Huh, why is there a letter here… for me?"
He glanced at it once. The single line inside made his habitually narrowed eyes snap open, ice-blue light flashing sharp and bright:
"If you don't want Young Miss Rangiku to be harmed, tonight, East Rukongai District, Rizan."
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