Warning: blood, gore.

Orihime straightened up, mouth wet and icky from throwing up. While she very much adored the part of Ichigo that vowed to keep her safe, she really wondered if staying in was the grandest idea. Ichigo hadn't told her, specifically, that tonight was the night he was breaking out, but intuition had its way of throbbing through her body and letting her know something was off kilter.

And boy, was she anxious. She loved Ichigo, she really did, but she wondered if it ever crossed his mind that waiting here, not knowing, worrying about his safety, had driven her to the point of sickness.

She glanced at the clock. Just a little past 8:30. She'd had an early dinner (an entire loaf of bread with microwaved soup) and retired to bed. Sleep had been full of torment; she could feel herself restlessly tossing and turning, wading in and out of spotty dreams with tracker dogs trotting across Seireitei with Ichigo's bloody clothes, blood pooling everywhere until the dry grass of the penitentiary was soaked wet. And just when she wanted to tear her eyes away from the gory sighed, wanted to turn her eyes to the sky - she would see Ichigo there, his lifeless body pinned to the spire of the tower.

Orihime shuddered, downing a glass of water before heading back to her couch. She never prayed often to the deities above, but on the more difficult nights, she found herself lingering by Sora's shrine, hoping to seek comfort where there was none.

He will write to me, she told herself firmly. He's going to be okay, and he's going to write to me.

She bit her lip, her words sounding dubious even to herself. But she had doubted Ichigo once and she was not going to make the mistake of doing it again.

She straightened Sora's portrait, brushed her 'Ichigo-shoebox' tentatively, then picked it up and walked back to her kitchen, hoping to seek what little comfort she could through the poetry he'd left behind for her. To find hope in the words of authors long gone, reaffirming her faith in her love.

And when sleep would eventually arrive, she hoped it would bring brighter sentiments with it.

x.x

"Iba to base, I repeat: Iba to base," Iba murmured into his radio, heaving a large sigh as he began his ascent to A-Wing. "Anyone heard from Renji yet?"

"His last recorded activity was punched in the keycard logs roughly forty-five minutes ago, sir," the attendant responded, "He should have been back by now. Would you like us to sound the alarm?"

Iba made a face. While it was uncharacteristic of Renji to be loitering around with his radio off and no one knowing his whereabouts, Iba didn't want to cause unnecessary panic without gaining the in-and-outs of the situation. The last thing they needed was another lockdown, which would bring with it a barrage of paperwork and after-hours meetings that no one would really want unless it was serious.

"Hold off on that," he instructed, making up his mind firmly. "I'll finish up count here and go look for him myself."

"Roger that."

Iba stormed up the stairs, starting from the 40s. Count was a standard order procedure, a continuous movement from cell to cell, ensuring inmates were present in person - not in paper mache masks or dummy body doubles. Not that any of the cons in Seireitei were bold enough to attempt something as risky. Prison procedure and protocol here was stringent, built on the backbones of past failures and headlines from other centers in Japan; hell, even around the world. It was an efficient system and Iba trusted it, which was all the more reason that Renji was most probably unhurt somewhere. Probably striking up conversation with a late shift plumber, for all he knew.

Iba rounded the corner on 41, eyes scanning the cell to see the three, sleeping heads of Ikkaku, Yumichika and the Kenpachi. He banged on the cell door twice, drawing out guttural groans from within. All three men lifted their heads and mechanically raised their hands, before sinking back to bed with heavy thumps. Ikkaku, on his way back, flipped Iba off rather crudely.

Iba chuckled, then moved past 41 to 42. He rapped the bars with his knuckles loudly.

"Kurosaki, Ishida, Sado!" he barked, peering around the bars to spot the sleeping figures. While there were bundles under the comforters, he couldn't exactly see any heads. A growing tension began to unfurl in his stomach when there was no response. "I'm not gonna ask twice. Get your asses up and give me a show of hands if you're present!"

Further silence.

"Kurosaki!" he bellowed, "Sado, Ishida!" He slammed one palm against the bar, ignoring the curious murmurs from surrounding cells. His blood ran cold as he once again stared at the empty cell.

Raising his radio to his lips, he felt his mouth move a hell of a lot calmer than the scrambled thoughts in his brain at the moment.

"This is Iba to base," he said grimly. "Yeah, I'm gonna need you to sound the alarm. We've got a possible code red on our hands. "Call the warden the second you get off my line," he regarded cell 42 over his shoulder with gritted teeth, "We're having a breakout."

x.x

In the eleventh hour, it seemed to Ishida that more things were falling apart than one.

"Where the hell is he?" he demanded, pacing back and forth.

Once Chad, Ishida and Shinji had reached the doctor's office, they'd made a quick study of dismantling the pipe and crawling to the drop. Below, the southbound water was roaring and crashing with a ferocity that was both frigid and menacing. It was muddy, a slate gray where the deluge of prison sewer water met the crisp, retreating ocean. Fast flowing and full of echoes, the concave opening where the three men stood proved dangerous without the rope.

Which, stupidly, Ishida had given to Ichigo. He clenched his fist.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

As the three men waited in the tunnel to take their descent, they began growing tense. Shinji had taken to sitting spread eagle around the entrance, while Ishida and Chad stayed rooted to their spots.

"Ichigo will come," Chad said, his voice barely audible over the crashing water.

"I know," Ishida replied, glancing at his watch. They were running far behind schedule, however, and as a sort-of team leader, he knew it would eventually fall on his shoulders to toe the line and make the hard decisions if Ichigo didn't show. And that was not something he wished to do, despite knowing full well he was perfectly capable of it.

A sudden noise at the far end of the pipe jerked all three of them into a sharp alertness. Shinji immediately got back on his feet, hands braced like he was expecting a fight. Ishida and Chad mimicked him, spines going taut.

Emerging from the shadows, however, was Ichigo. A huge gust of relief passed through all the men at the sight of him; however, upon closer inspection, it seemed he was hobbling.

Ishida's stomach dropped when he spotted a terribly damp patch of blood practically pooling at Ichigo's shirt. It was an angry, red opening - dark to the point of near blackness.

While Ishida's blood turned to ice at the sight of his battered body, he hoped to God that Ichigo's empty hands indicated the rope was hidden elsewhere on him.

"Ichigo," Chad exclaimed, stepping forward to observe the extent of damages under the dim light. Ichigo's clothes were patched and dirty, like he'd literally been dragged through every surface possible. Nonetheless, he was up on two feet and mostly alright - had it not been for the raw, oozing wound that leaked out of his chest.

It looked painful.

"Who?" Shinji asked, steadying him by the elbow as he came up to the group.

"Abarai," Ichigo wheezed, taking in sharp breaths as he moved. "He got my rib on the bad side."

Chad and Ishida gasped, faces drained of color.

"And?" Shinji prodded on, reasoning that the other two were still in shock over Ichigo's sorry state.

"I took him down," Ichigo assured, then lifted his eyes to stare dead into Ishida's eyes, blunt and hardened. "But I lost the rope."

He leaned over the wall and groaned, face screwed tight like it was taking every iota of strength in his body to hold himself together. When he braced a free hand on the wall to secure himself, it dragged a patchy maroon trail of handprint with it.

Ishida wondered just how much of a trail he'd left on his way here, ears burning with the sudden twist of events that had come crashing.

"You lost it?" he demanded hoarsely, his voice sounding unamilair to his own ears.

Ichigo's wild eyes turned dark and sharp as he raised them to glower at Ishida. "I had to tie Abarai up to keep him from calling anyone," he spat. When Ishida scoffed, he narrowed his brows. "What, you wanted me to kill a man for doing his job? Is that what you wanted me to do?"

Ishida pinched his brows, the air tense between them. The words 'We've been made, we've been made, we've been made' seemed to chorus through his entire soul, nearly mocking his hubris for even daring to do the unthinkable.

He wondered, idly, if he had strayed so far from the light that he could ever be redeemed. He had lied, stolen, deceived and even hurt in the name of his grand 'plan.'

And for what? A voice sneered in his head. Love? Would that justify crossing the line? Rendering morality moot for a cause?

"No," he said finally, running one hand through his hair. "Is he conscious?"

"No," Ichigo replied, relaxing slightly. "I tied him to one of the boilers, but it shouldn't be long before he comes to. We have to go without the rope."

Shinji cleared his throat.

"What?" Ichigo, Chad and Ishida snapped in unison.

"I don't know if any of you have noticed," Shinji said, walking back to the drop and pointing downwards, "but that is an 18-foot drop."

There was a beat of silence, the only thing louder than the barrage of water being Ichigo's ragged breathing. Ishida ran over contingencies in his mind, solutions he could craft from thin air that would allow them to descend without smashing a skull, getting swept away with the current, or - God forbid, in Ichigo's case - dying.

Perhaps, in the chance of the thinnest silver lining, they could have gone back to the clinic and treated Ichigo's wound. But time was already running out, and they'd been caught already. Besides, the doctor wasn't here and as skilled as Ishida was, even he could not mend the infirmity of an already frail rib.

"We have to call it off," Ishida announced, regarding the group seriously. "Kurosaki's current state is severely compromised. There's no guarantee that he'd hit the water and make it out alive."

Chad sighed, dragging a palm over his face. Shinji looked livid.

Ichigo, however, stepped forward with a confident face that belied the intensity of his pain. "We don't have a choice, Ishida. So just get on with it, already, we're wasting time!"

Ishida clicked his teeth, levelling his gaze to meet Ichigo's. "Don't be stupid, Kurosaki-"

He was cut off abruptly by a loud, blaring alarm that, despite its seeming distance from where they were, reverberated with a volume that nearly had all four men on their knees. It rang shrilly, urgently across the stone walls of Seireitei, and it was obvious there was only one cause behind its urgency.

"The sirens," Chad said, head arching low as the painfully loud noise reverberated around the tunnel.

"Only two choices now," Shinji said, pushing past all of them to stand at the edge of the drop. "Die or jump - and I'm not stickin' around this shithole any longer."

He arched his shoulders back, stretched his arms above his head, then took a glorious plunge off the edge.

"Shit!"

Ichigo, Chad and Ishida immediately chased after, watching as the swoop of Shinji's body came in contact with the gushing water. His blonde head disappeared under the shadows of water, only to crop up a few feet away with one thumb flashed up in the air as he drifted aimlessly in its depths.

"We have to go," Chad said, one hand rubbing his ear as he winced at the blaring alarm. "If we get caught…"

"We'll never be able to do this again," Ishida finished with a frown.

"Then," Ichigo wheezed, clutching his side as he hobbled up to the edge, "let's do it."

The three cellmates stared down at the water with bated breaths, then almost at once - like an imaginary gunshot going off - they leaped together.

x.x

There was no describing the intensity of searing shocks that ran through Ichigo's veins when his body hit the water. If the jarring cold wasn't enough to send him into paralysing shock, the piercing throb of his rib was.

Despite holding on to every last thread of consciousness he possibly could, he could feel his eyes fast closing as his limbs began to power down. The water was gushing outwards at a breakneck speed and he simply didn't have the strength to swim with the current.

Cold began seeping in through his collar, the base of his neck, the rounded tips of his ears...his head seemed to be just so from tipping completely under the water.

Slowly, he wondered if this was how his mother felt in her dying moments. Weightlessly paralyzed, blood running slow as his body turned blue. Underneath the course of panic and desperation of his body trying to keep him alive, there was also a steady undertow of peace. If he walked into the light tonight, there'd be no telling where he'd end up tomorrow.

Somewhere peaceful, hopefully. Somewhere kind, filled with warmth and joy and sunlight. Soft music, the crackling kinder of fire...maybe his sisters laughing in the distance somewhere at his father's antics, his mother sharing an amused smile. Orihime's hands wrapped around his waist, head resting on his chest - just where he liked her - as they swept away this distant life. This life with blood and punishment and coarse adrenaline.

Hands grabbing his shoulders roughly broke him out of his reverie. How long had he even been out? It had felt like forever.

As the slow dregs of awareness began seeping back to his body, Ichigo could faintly hear mumbling in his ear. There were varying sounds, a frenetic conversation of sorts, but his ears were clogged with buzzing to actually hear what was being said.

Someone hoisted him steady, two hands coming under each armpit as his arms were hoisted along two sets of shoulders. One broad and strong, the other wiry but equally sturdy. Ichigo blinked water out of his eyes, a gush of it escaping his mouth as he tried to croak out a sound.

"Stay with us, Kurosaki," Ishida was saying amidst heavy breaths, balancing half his weight. On his other side, Chad was heaving too, but they were somewhat in sync as they shared the burden of Ichigo's weight between them. Underneath, Ichigo could feel their legs gyrate in long strokes, breaking through the current together despite the dead weight.

They…had searched for him. Must have actively groped around the water and hauled him, just so he wouldn't be left behind.

Ichigo didn't know if it was the salt or the dirt, but something pricked at his eyes at the gesture.

"Chad, Ishida," he gasped, his own voice sounding foreign to his ears. "You shouldn't have…"

"Ichigo, can you move your legs?" Chad asked urgently, readjusting Ichigo's arm on his shoulder to ensure he didn't slip. His grip was strong, as was Ishida's - almost painfully so on Ichigo's upper arms.

"If so, you better start kicking," Ishida said, his eyes glinting with a shit-eating smirk even through the droplets of water that had splattered his glasses. Like he could somehow see through Ichigo's dying sentimentalism through all that water. "We wouldn't want to drop dead weight behind."

Prick, Ichigo thought with a grin, but felt his own chest burn with fierce resolve. His body came alive, legs kicking in sync so he could keep up with Ishida and Chad. In the distance, he could spot a white-blue light - the gaping opening of the tunnel into a backwater that joined the ocean.

They were close. He could taste it, right on the tip of his tongue, beneath the grimy salt.

Renewed energy jolted through his body at the feeling of it.

He was going to escape Seireitei with his two unyieldingly faithful friends. He was going to see his sisters again some day.

And he was going to write Inoue Orihime a damn letter.

.

Surprisingly, as the three cellmates wobbled out all pruny and dishevelled from the water, the morgue van was still waiting for them by the backwater. Shinji was leaning on it by one end, while Kensei Muguruma toyed with the trunk of the van. As he saw the three men approaching, he slammed it shut.

"You're late." His eyes fell to Ichigo's injury, however, and his grimace turned further sour. "Fuck's sake."

"You waited," Ichigo said, tone more than a little surprised when he regarded Shinji.

"I said we're allies, didn't I?" Shinji asked, with a lopsided smirk.

Meanwhile, Ishida and Chad quickly loaded Ichigo into the truck. The crisp air of the outside prickled their damp skin with goosebumps, but they gathered on either side as Ichigo stripped his shirt open with trembling fingers to assess the damage.

There was a crater-like wound, still bleeding thick and runny, from where the heel of Renji's boot had smashed it. Though it looked terribly fleshy and bruised, his chest still ran sturdy underneath the slickness.

"It's not broken," Ishida marvelled, despite his initial doubts over the bleeding. "Will you be able to hold off on getting it cleaned until we're out of here?"

"Not like we've got much of a choice," Kensei muttered, coming around with large, black body bags in his hands. "Heard from one of the janitors that they've got an area-wide lockdown. Warden's even considering calling in the JSDF if the guards don't find you by dawn."

"Shit," Chad mumbled, glancing at Ichigo and Ishida. They had anticipated running late, but they certainly hadn't anticipated still being here by the time the alarm had sounded.

"Either way, you're gonna have to put these on," Kensei continued, passing around the body bags to the four men. "We're gonna take the main gate out of here but there's no guarantee the guard isn't gonna do a routine check on the back. If you want to get out of here alive, I'd suggest you sit tight and shut up."

"Aw, Kensei," Shinji cooed, shimmying into his body bag halfway before tossing himself unceremoniously among the other bodies already loaded in the van. "You're so mean."

Kensei huffed, before making space among the crowded area.

Ichigo's stomach turned sour when he realized exactly what kind of company they would be in. He held back a shiver, half from the nausea and half from the pungent smell of death around him.

"Squeamish?" Kensei asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Doesn't matter," Ishida said, stepping forward in his own body bag. "The sooner we're out of here, the better."

Ichigo nodded, staggering up so he could shuffle his own bag on. Somewhere beside him, Chad had already zipped completely up top, leaving only a tiny gap for breathing as he lied down somewhere between Ishida and an unnamed body Ichigo really didn't want to think about.

"Try not to get blood on the equipment," Kensei said with a resigned sigh, waiting for Ichigo to get in. Once he did, the door came down to its holding, leaving Ichigo and the others alone with three other dead bodies. There was a temporary moment of darkness, then the tiny, automatic lightbulb flickered on.

Ichigo held his breath, then proceeded to zip up his body bag and lie down.

Once his head rested on the cold metal of the back, his heartbeat jump-started again. Their situation was as precarious as precarious could get, and there was nothing he could do but lie down and hold his breath about it.

The van thrummed steadily against the road, the little crunch of gravel audible in the quiet noise of the wide trunk. He knew, theoretically, that his fellow escapees were in here, but with his vision concealed by the flimsy cloth of his body bag, he might as well have been alone. He couldn't even hear the others breathe. To make matters worse, every time the van hit a pothole or speed breaker, the jump of it made his injury ache with blinding pain. He had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out loud, the rivulets of blood stressing him out further.

As the van began slowing down, Ichigo bit his lip and let his breaths out in heavy exhales. It completely halted, and a window was lowered somewhere upfront.

"Evening, Shriogane-san," Kensei could be heard saying, all business-like. "Just takin' the batch out for unloading."

There was the ominously faint click of a clipboard. Then,

"Bit late for unloadin, isn't it?" Shirogane asked, voice muffled as he seemed to walk over to the side. The driver's door unlocked soon after, and Kensei's footsteps could be heard as he came up to the back defensively.

"Bit of a hiccup," Kensei replied gruffly.

"Why don't you open up the back for me? Routine check," Shirogane said. "How many bodies are we scheduled for tonight? Three?"

Fuck! Ichigo's breath hitched, his pulse throbbing uncomfortably fast. Somewhere beside him, he heard an audible gasp. There was a beat of silence, and though none of them could see the goings-on, they suspected Kensei was in the spotlight.

There was a faint click, like someone had unlocked the trunk door. Ichigo could hear it groan as it lifted, but it stopped halfway.

"You know," Kensei started. "I wouldn't mind waiting here for you to do your thing, but I've got orders from high up about speeding it along tonight. Embalming took a little bit of trouble, bosses wanted to get things going before rigor mortis set in."

"Rigor mortis?"

"Yeah," Kensei said slowly, "You know, when the body starts going stiff and sits up all googly-eyed and shit." There was another minute of silence. Kensei wasn't a great actor - considering how deadpan his voice was - but Ichigo supposed those were the kind that usually sold really well. Or at least, Shrigane seemed to be buying it. "I wouldn't mind opening it up, though - just wouldn't want ya to puke your guts out and then have to do paperwork about it. Heard it's a real somethin' to witness for first-timers."

The trunk door began lifting again, but something clamped it shut. Ichigo held his breath, hoping the guard couldn't catch a whiff of his blood through the other odors.

"Say, Muguruma, you've been working here how long?"

"Seven years."

"And you haven't had any write-ups for misconduct in that time, have you? Don't recall seeing your name up there."

"No, sir."

A pause.

"Alright, move it along then. Too much fish food for me tonight to want to see it, I'm afraid," he said, thumping the van with one hand. Ichigo winced. "Just don't mention this to the warden, alright? Heard he's come down tonight for something. Buncha cons go missing over at A-Wing."

"Sure."

The door opened, Kensei plopped in, and they were off again - out of the gate and off the premises of Seireitei State Penitentiary. The steady whir of the tires was almost unbelievable to Ichigo's ears. He and the others still hid in their bags, but it was obvious they were out of the woods.

"Kensei?" Shinji said quietly, somewhere to Ichigo's north.

"Hmm?"

"I could kiss you right now."

A groan. "Shut the fuck up, Shinji."

But Shinji didn't seem to want to, now that a major chunk of their worries were in the past.

"Remember Mozambique?"

"Thought I told you to shut the fuck up back there," Kensei grumbled, then admitted in a lower tone, "Besides, I was drunk."

Ichigo couldn't see Shinji, but he was sure the man was grinning. He decided not to ask.

Once he heard the rustle of zippers and the swish of cloth around him, he began undoing his own coverings.

Gasping for breath, Ichigo's head emerged from the body bag in time to see Chad, Ishida and Shinji sitting up too. In the low light filtering in through the window, he noticed the moon well and high up in the sky. A moon they usually couldn't see all too well, from the many spires that blocked their view from the penitentiary.

A wave of disbelief coursed through his body. It all still felt so liminal to him, but underneath the shock, there was the irrefutable fact:

They had done it.

They made it out.

.

A/N: Gah, this chapter was hard to write! But would you look at that! They made it! (or did they…?) We're only a few chapters away from the ending, but I'm glad you all stuck around for this story. I really enjoy reading your comments, they're very fun! Thanks for reading!