People Are Always So Strange

Chōjirō Sasakibe stepped forward, his slender figure shielding all the survivors behind him.

The air instantly froze.

The blood-red setting sun slanted through the devastated ruins, casting a glaring, desolate dark crimson across the white captain's haori that symbolized the First Division.

Behind him stood comrades covered in wounds, so unsteady they could barely remain standing.

Before him floated Ross and Aizen, hovering in midair like gods looking down upon mortals.

Chōjirō Sasakibe drew a deep breath.

His voice was not loud, nor did it carry much Spiritual Pressure, yet it clearly spread through every corner of the deathly silent battlefield.

"Lord Ross."

This was the first time he had called that name so solemnly and directly.

Gone was the respect he had shown as captain of the First Division, as was the deliberate distance he usually maintained.

At this moment, there was only an almost tragic calm in his tone.

"I was once Captain-General Yamamoto's follower."

His gaze slowly swept across the battlefield, now scorched like charred earth.

He saw the ashen despair in Ichibei Hyosube's eyes, the struggle and bewilderment on Byakuya Kuchiki's face, and the acceptance in Oetsu Nimaiya's eyes, as though he had seen through life and death.

"The order Soul Society has upheld for a thousand years was established by Captain-General Yamamoto. And it was protected, generation after generation, by us Shinigami of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, with our blood and lives."

"And you were once the strongest and most just pillar of that order after Captain-General Yamamoto."

Chōjirō Sasakibe's voice trembled slightly, filled with remembrance and grief for the past. Yet he still forced his somewhat bent back straight.

"We trusted you, depended on you, and even entrusted Soul Society's future to you after Captain-General Yamamoto died. But now..."

He paused, raised his