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The night spread across Seireitei, moonlight pooling like silver water.
To the south, three shadows moved under its glow, creeping toward the white tower of the Repentance Palace. Among them, one bald head gleamed brighter than the moon itself.
"Little bald head, are you really sure?"
The voice rang out in the still air, shrill and playful, nearly shocking Madarame Ikkaku into a heart attack.
"Vice Captain, for the love of—keep your voice down!" he hissed, glaring at Kusajishi Yachiru. "We're about to rob a prison, not play house. And don't call me little bald head!"
Yachiru pressed a finger to her lips, thoughtful for all of three seconds before grinning. "Fine. Little baldy."
Ikkaku nearly tripped over himself. Sometimes it was easier to be insulted than humored by her.
Their bickering echoed faintly as they advanced. Behind them, Ayasegawa Yumichika said nothing, eyes sharp, Reiatsu stretched outward in vigilance. What unsettled him was not the shadows around them but the strange emptiness. There were fewer guards than expected. The Repentance Palace—where the worst criminals of Soul Society were confined—should have been crawling with watchmen. Yet the approach to the white walls felt deserted.
The quieter it was, the sharper his caution became.
The Palace itself loomed into view, the colossal white tower rising from the high ground, crowned with bridges strung like skeletal arms. From here, a single rope span led directly toward the Sōkyoku Hill. The jailers wore seamless white uniforms that concealed them completely, silhouettes of faceless sentinels. Their presence barely registered on Reiatsu sense, adding to the unease.
"I can't gauge their strength," Yumichika murmured. "What's the plan, corner?"
Ikkaku's brow creased, crimson at the edges of his eyes. "From my last scout, they switch shifts in three groups. A minute's gap between each rotation. If we move in that window—"
"Then we go rescue Little Renji now!" Yachiru declared with glee, cutting him off.
She leapt forward, landing on Ikkaku's shoulders before gnawing at his polished head like it was a rice ball. Drool ran down his temple as she sang, "Let's go, little marinated egg!"
"Idiot!" Ikkaku roared, but there was no stopping her.
Yachiru's cheerful footsteps echoed up the bridge like a child visiting a playground, not breaking into Soul Society's most guarded prison.
Yumichika only sighed, voice low: "We've already been noticed."
Reiatsu spiked in the darkness, converging on their location. The air rippled as scarlet orbs burst from the tower's flanks, Kidō shells streaking through the night.
"Damn it!" Ikkaku growled, diving aside. He had underestimated the defenses. Neither he nor Yachiru wielded Kidō, and Yumichika's skill barely scratched basic incantations. The Eleventh Division disdained spellcraft—those who relied on it were looked down upon. It was why Yumichika hid his Zanpakutō's true nature.
Shunpo carried the three past the blazing barrage, shadows streaking deeper into the tower. Alarms flared.
"Enemy intrusion!" a jailer's voice rang out. "They are strong—request immediate reinforcement!"
But their warnings barely mattered. Yachiru bounded through corridors, laughter bubbling, explosions behind her like festival fireworks. The guards' blades and Kidō barely grazed her, while Ikkaku and Yumichika fought through, battered but relentless.
Within minutes they shattered iron bars.
Abarai Renji, battered and bound, stared dumbstruck at the three before him.
"You… you guys—"
Before he could finish, Yachiru clambered onto his shoulders, patting his head as though crowning a victory. "Of course we came for you! Little marinated egg said this is jailbreak!"
Ikkaku's voice was rough, hurried. "No time to explain. If you don't leave with us now, you die here."
Renji blinked, then nodded. His pride left no room for refusal.
The four burst outward, overwhelming the last lines of resistance. Guards collapsed in their wake, powerless before Eleventh Division brute force. For the first time in history, the Repentance Palace had been breached. Shock haunted the jailers' eyes. None could imagine the punishment awaiting them for this disgrace.
One whispered, trembling, "They wore the insignia of the Eleventh Division."
At that, every masked face stiffened, then sagged in grim understanding. Of course it was the Eleventh. Recklessness required no explanation.
Renji stumbled alongside them, his voice breaking. "Vice Captain Kusajishi, Ikkaku, Yumichika… where are we escaping to?"
The words froze the group in place.
"…We didn't think that far," Ikkaku admitted, rubbing his chin.
Yumichika only sighed, elegant in exasperation. "Our job was to get you out. What happens after is your burden."
Yachiru clapped Renji's skull, laughing. "Come back to the Eleventh with us! With me around, no one will hurt you!"
Renji forced a smile, but he wasn't a fool. To return to Kenpachi's division now was to walk straight into judgment—whether from Zaraki or Moyu. He knew he couldn't stay.
Yumichika's voice turned pragmatic. "Rukongai would be better. The districts are vast. You could hide until you slip into the living world. Crude, but survivable."
But before his words finished, the night split.
Reiatsu crashed down like the weight of an ocean, drowning breath and thought. For one suffocating instant, time froze. Fear seeped into every vein.
Renji's face strained crimson, veins bulging as he fought to breathe. Ikkaku and Yumichika fared no better, crushed beneath that overwhelming pressure.
Only Yachiru sat wide-eyed and blank, as though nothing pressed on her at all.
Steady footsteps approached, measured and inescapable.
"Moyū…" Renji whispered, despair curling in his throat.
Yachiru's face lit up. "Xiao Mo!" she cheered, waving like greeting an old friend.
Moyū stopped before them, his expression weary. Prison robbery—something so reckless even he hadn't considered. Yamamoto himself would have already moved if he hadn't sensed the disturbance first. He had rushed here immediately, because once another captain took action, mercy would not exist.
But before he could speak, a lilting Kyoto accent sliced into the night.
"My, my. Captain Moyu moves quickly, doesn't he?"
Ichimaru Gin emerged from the shadows, his foxlike smile curving under the moonlight. His eyes flashed pale blue as he added, "Do you care about your friends this much?"
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