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Rukia Kuchiki was escorted in solemn silence to the Sōkyoku platform by the execution squad, their heavy steps echoing against the stone. As the tension built, another sound joined the rhythm of approaching footsteps—a figure walked forward from the distant path, measured and silent. Hearing them, Rukia slowly lifted her head, and the moment her eyes met the familiar silhouette, sorrow clenched in her chest. It was Byakuya Kuchiki—her brother—his expression carved from ice, gaze straight ahead, unreadable and void of emotion. He came alone. Abarai Renji was nowhere in sight.
Noticing this, Kyoraku Shunsui cocked his head with casual puzzlement, murmuring, "Eh? Didn't Captain Kuchiki and his vice-captain come together?" his voice light but edged with concern. Byakuya gave no answer. He neither turned his head nor acknowledged Rukia's presence. Instead, he took his place among the assembled witnesses, his eyes never once drifting toward her.
"Brother…" The word slipped from Rukia's lips like a breath of grief, soft but aching. Even now, as she stood on the edge of death, she could find no warmth in his gaze—only that same cold wall of stoic detachment that had haunted her for so long. Her shoulders fell as her head lowered in resignation, her expression shadowed by despair.
Then came the voice of Yamamoto Genryūsai, ancient and commanding, slicing through the stillness with authority: "Rukia Kuchiki. Do you have any final words?" Her voice was faint, nearly lost to the wind, but unwavering as she raised her head again, eyes glassy yet resolute. "I know what I've done. I'm guilty. I won't offer excuses. I won't try to justify anything… but I beg you—let those who came here to save me go home safely. That is my only request. My last request." Finishing her plea, she bowed deeply, offering every shred of her dignity in the hope her words would be honored.
Yamamoto was silent, his eyes narrowed with contemplation. Then, with the weight of centuries behind each word, he answered, "Very well. As you wish. Once the execution is complete, the intruders shall be allowed to leave unharmed." Rukia's eyes softened, and a slight, grateful smile touched her lips as she whispered, "Thank you… for that mercy."
From afar, Kotetsu Isane, standing among the onlookers, bowed her head, her voice trembling in protest as she muttered, "It's too cruel… they never meant to let them leave alive…" But from the shadows, a calm voice offered quiet contradiction. "It's not cruelty, Isane. It's compassion." Unohana Retsu had appeared beside her, serene and enigmatic as always. Isane turned, startled by her sudden presence, whispering, "Captain Unohana…" but Unohana said nothing more. Her eyes were already fixed on the platform above.
Yamamoto's voice rang out again, unwavering and final: "Commence the liberation of Sōkyoku." The executioners stepped forward with precision, each releasing their spiritual pressure as they took their designated positions. Their reiatsu surged in harmony, pouring into the ancient Sōkyoku system. A beam of blinding blue light erupted into the sky as twin pillars at the platform's flanks glowed in answer, humming with awakening power. Slabs of stone shifted beneath Rukia, rising steadily and lifting her high above the hill until she faced the obsidian spear standing upright in the heart of the stage. Her eyes locked onto the weapon—massive, ominous, wrapped in growing fire—and for a moment, guilt and regret passed across her face. This was her end, and she accepted it.
Far from Sōkyoku Hill, within the quiet grove that concealed the remnants of Central 46, another confrontation was unfolding.
"Hinamori?! Hinamori!!" Hitsugaya Tōshirō's voice thundered through the corridors, desperate and enraged. "Gin Ichimaru! Come out, you bastard! Stop hiding and face me!" His footsteps were thunderclaps. "I know what you did! You and Su Li! You murdered Central 46, forged those execution orders, turned the entire court into a lie!"
But then he stopped. His breath caught. His eyes went wide.
Two figures emerged into view—Aizen Sōsuke and Ichimaru Gin—Aizen calm and smiling with unreadable ease, Gin flashing his ever-ambiguous grin. "Hello, Hitsugaya," Aizen said, his voice smooth and steady, as if this were no more than a casual greeting.
Hitsugaya's heartbeat roared in his ears, his reiatsu spiking in disbelief. "No… it can't be…"
"Oh, but it is," Aizen answered pleasantly. "Just as you feared."
"You were behind all of it… every move… every death…" Hitsugaya's voice cracked under the weight of truth, and Aizen's glasses caught the faint light, reflecting nothing but cold certainty. "Exactly. As you imagined."
Hitsugaya reeled from the admission, but his focus sharpened as panic gripped him again. "Where is Hinamori?! Where is she?!" Earlier, he and Rangiku had tracked Kira Izuru, freshly escaped from his cell. From him, they'd learned Hinamori had broken free, chasing the last fragments of her faith, running toward this place. And now… she was gone.
"Oh? Miss Hinamori? Where indeed?" Aizen mused, that smile deepening. Beside him, Gin's grin widened.
Hitsugaya moved in a blur, breaking past them into the next room—and froze. She was there. Hinamori Momo, blood pooling beneath her, unmoving and pale. His world shattered.
"Hina… mori…"
Silence blanketed the space, thick and suffocating. Then his voice returned, colder than any winter storm. "Bankai… Daiguren Hyōrinmaru!"
The room erupted in frost. Ice raced across the floor and walls, swallowing light and sound in frozen fury. His eyes were red with rage, his reiatsu a storm of wrath. "I'm going to kill you!" He vanished into flash-step, his sword striking with all the agony of betrayal.
Meanwhile, on Sōkyoku Hill, the heat continued to build until the very air shimmered. The once-blue reiatsu had become an inferno. The black spear pulsed, its sealed form shifting, deforming in the blaze. Even Yamamoto's eyes narrowed slightly.
For most of the captains present, this was their first time witnessing the spear's full power. Kyoraku Shunsui, face solemn and shadowed, muttered, "That's… excessive. No wonder Jūshirō said we'd need that damned thing…" He cast a glance toward the horizon. "Still… he'd better move faster…"
Around the platform, all eyes were drawn to the transformation underway. "That pressure…" one muttered. "Is this the weapon said to have the power of a million Zanpakutō?" Sui-Feng stood rigid, her voice tight. "It's not a myth."
Then the ground shook.
A resounding boom cracked the sky. Flames, once dispersed, contracted with force, collapsing inward into the weapon's core. And then the transformation was complete. The black spear gave birth to a blazing entity—a colossal firebird with wings of flame. As it spread them wide, the hill trembled beneath a wave of scorching heat. The crowd recoiled instinctively.
Yamamoto's voice was quiet but absolute. "The King of Ruin. The true form of the Sōkyoku. The final executor of justice. When it pierces the sinner's body, the sentence is carried out. Nothing remains." Silence fell again, broken only by the roar of the flames.
Rukia, suspended in the sky before the firebird, did not flinch. There was no fear left in her—only stillness, only clarity. Her eyes swept slowly across the figures far below, the faces she had known.
"Goodbye… Brother Byakuya… Renji… Captain Jūshirō… Ichigo… Goodbye, everyone…"
A single tear slipped down her cheek, trailing into the wind. She searched each face, holding each one in her heart. And then she looked past them… and her breath caught. Her eyes widened.
There, standing below the firebird's light, was someone smiling at her.
A warm, familiar smile.
It was Su Li.
And he was looking directly at her.
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