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Soifon is on her knees before the Throne of Judgment with her hands shackled and bound behind her back in heavy black chains. Her neck is laced with a rusty metal shackle, two similar heavy chains stream off the sides and each is held by a guard at each side.

A dog on its leash.

Her gaze is unfocused as she stares at the ground, yet not seeing it. Completely feral, a shell of who she once was. Her mind has left her long ago.

The guards stand at attention as a man dressed in a long, flowing, robe enters the chambers. The expensive gold trimmed purple silk shimmers in the rays of the florescent light above their heads. The man should be considered young, gorgeous, clean trimmed, with long flowing midnight hair. He screams authority, posture demands compliance in his wealthy arrogance.

Obvious royalty.

Soon, after a stiff nod in acknowledgement to the guards, he makes his way to the throne, but instead of sitting as one would expect, he stands. After seeing that their Master does not intend to sit, three more guards rush to bring a heavy marble podium to stand in front of the Master, struggling the whole way.

After finishing their task, the three extra guard stand at attention before the Master, placing their right arm across their chests with their fisted palms to rest across their hearts. They bow.

With a stiff nod, the robbed male sends the guards before him out the room, just leaving himself, the crazed prisoner, and the two guards who hold the chains securing her neck.

The Master closes his eyes as he sighs heavily.

It is time to begin.

He opens a book on the podium, quickly scanning the ancient text before him, opening his mouth to let the language flow through him.

He speaks.

Devotion

" Devotion.
A word composed of eight letters.
Three syllables.

A simple word made extremely complicated by the amount of commitment and
Dedication that one has to be willing and able to put towards the matter.

Discipline is its foundation.
Purpose and Will are its catalyst.

Love is its reason for being.

Existing.

As she was your reason for reality.
Devoted you were.

You served her well.
Fought in her name,
Moved on her behalf,
Killed at her command,
Placing her life before yours times a hundred fold.

Devotion.

It's what you were.
You were faithful when others deserted her,
Supportive when others doubted,
Comforting when loneliness and fear enveloped her.

Devotion.

You took care of her in her times of sickness,
Brought food to her in her times of hunger.

Devotion.

You even laid at her feet.
You would have kissed the ground she walked
On now wouldn't you?

Devotion.
A word composed of eight letters.
Three syllables.

A simple word made extremely complicated by the amount of commitment and
Dedication that one has to be willing and able to put towards the matter.

You were that.
You were all of that.
And more.

To the point were she bled you dry.

Devotion.

Yes, no one from here on out will argue against it.
Devotion you were.

But let me ask you this simple question.
When she left you alone and cold on that battle field to die in her place,
Unknown.
Insane.
Unloved.
When you really truly think back on it,
Was it all really worth it?"

The Master stops speaking, waiting on the reply to his question, still looking down upon the fallen woman before him.

Soifon, however, is still feral looking. Her gaze unfocused as she still stares blankly at the ground. She still has not spoken or makes an attempt to escape, but besides this fact, the guards becomes pissed at her lack of response.

The guard to her right hands his chain to the one on her left who pulls them both back hard as one would do the reigns of a stubborn horse, forcing Soi's head to rise. The guard that was once to her right, steps in front of Soi and grabs her face roughly in one of his calloused hands, harshly lifting her face further until he can see her eyes.

Soifon still has no emotion; she doesn't even seem to register the movement as she stares past the guard with dimmed grey eyes seeing nothing.

"Oi!", says the guard, "didn't you hear his Highness ask you a question? Answer him!"

Soi stays quiet, still showing no response.

The guard behind her pulls the chains around her neck higher. "Answer him wretch!", he orders.

Soi remains unchanged.

The guard in front of her snorts in disgust, drawing his large fist back before connecting it to Soifon's face.

Hard.

Still she doesn't respond. She doesn't even wince as her head snaps to the side.

"You proud b***h", the guard responds before kicking her to the ground.

Soi still remains unresponsive. She is now lying on the ground where she was kicked. The guard, repeating his strokes, moves his leg, kicking harder and harder with each swing of his leg, the blows landing heavy on her back and stomach. Evidence of him trying to draw a response from the woman.

Blow after blow is landed on her petite body, but even though, Soi doesn't even wince.

After a minute or two, his Highness speaks again.

"Stop it."

The guard's leg stops in mid-swing and he regretfully steps back from the bloody girl, turning to bow before his Highness. "Hai, Your Majesty".

He moved back to Soi's right side, standing at attention.

Soifon is still lying awkwardly on her side. Her body bruised, broken, and bleeding profusely, a red river flowing quickly across the floor from the open gashes in her flesh.

His Highness is still looking on with pity but now also in wonder. Not once during her beating had the battered woman uttered a cry of anguish or a grunt of pain. Then he realized, the woman wasn't using her Special Forces training to resist the interrogation, but she was literally a broken spirit.

Completely devoid of emotion and feeling.

"Raise her up on her knees again", the Noble commanded.

The guards each take their original stances, pulling on their chains in order to raise Soi back unto her knees by her neck. They need to force more effort to keep her upright due to her wounds depleting her strength, causing her to sway heavily. Her eyes are still feral, and she goes back to stare blankly at the ground, her head bowed. Blood pours from her open wounds and runs down her body, painting her pale skin crimson.

The King moved around the podium to stand in front of Soifon. "It's a shame", he said with a sigh, "what that damned b***h did to you. I could have used someone like you in my Guard. The stupid cat-"

Soifon moved then, her actions startling everyone, as she launched herself forward at the King of the Soul Society, head butting him with full force. The force of her actions combined with everyone's surprise made the guards drop the chains in an instant, giving Soifon the opportunity to move her chained hands under her feet so that they were now in front of her. Using this position to her advantage, she repeatively punches the King in the face, chest, and neck, anywhere she can make contact. Screaming at him in pure rage, punctuating every word with a strong blow.

"Don't."(punch) "EVER." (punch)"Disrespect."(kick) "My."(punch) "Yoruichi-" (slap)"-sama again!"(punch) "Do."(punch) "You."(punch) "Hear." (kick) "Me." (punch)"You." (slap) "Sick." (punch) "Worthless." (slap) "********!" (one-two punch combo) "Of a" (kick) "KING!"

Somehow, by the end of her speech, the guards are on her again, pulling the chains harshly, causing her body to fling backwards and land on her back. One of the two guards presses his knee into her stomach heavily to hold her into place, knocking the air from her lungs. The other rushes to aid the King.

After struggling to his feet, the King wiped at his own blood now running down various parts of his body. The robe he is wearing, he notices, is stained. Again he hobbles in front of Soi, but this time is sure to keep some distance.

He stares at what appears to be a new woman chained before him on the ground. Gone was the emotionless shell that barely harbored a broken spirit. No more did her eyes gaze blankly at the world as Death settled behind the orbs. This woman before him did not practice a normal breathing regime and refrain from sounds of emotion filled with pain.

Instead, the woman before him was completely new. Her broken spirit once again, if just for these few moments, had a purpose and reason to move forward again.

She once again served to protect her Queen. One that didn't even care for her, one that had damned her to this fate.

Devotion.

Soifon't eyes were now blazing with defiance. No, not blazing, they were much to cold for that. These silver orbs held the power and intensity as great as any blizzard storm. One with winds so cold, that they could cut through your flesh and pierce the heart, draining the body of all liquid warmth and freezing all motion with Death.

They were the eyes of a guard, an assassin with the desire to protect someone she loved, even it the love was not returned.

Soi's eyes are what the King feared the most, as they wanted him, torn and bloodied.

His Highness took a step back further from the prisoner, and once again took account of her behavior. Soi's breathing had become ragged, heavy. The King suspected that it had more to do with Soifon's thirst for blood rather than the physical excursion that she just put herself through.

No, that small but lethal attack would not have left her this winded, even with her wounded body.

A guard went to the Kings side in order to offer some assistance but was annoyingly brushed off. Where was he when he was getting his a** handed back to him in chunks?

"Raise her up again", he ordered.

The male on top of her pressed his knee further into Soi's abdominal; both guards' eyes went wide. "Sire, are you sure? She coul-"

The King cut him off. "Do as I command!"

After exchanging a glance, both guards moved to follow the order. Soi gasped loudly for air when the pressure disappeared from her body.

This time taking the safety precaution to wrap the chains around their hands tightly, shortening them so she would have to hold her body straighter. Restricting her movements, especially since her hands were no longer behind her back.

The King stared straight into her steel depths, and Soi's gaze didn't falter his, even as blood trickled into and around her eyes, making them look satanic. The robed man couldn't tell whether if it was her blood or his. "I am ready to pass my judgement", he declared. "Take her for sentencing."

"Hai!"

Both guards turned and yanked on their respective chains, again pulling Soi harshly onto her back, dragging her backwards like an animal towards the door in the back of the room.

She struggled to lean forward, to keep her gaze locked with the King as she was dragged further away. A small smile tugged on her lips as they twitched.

The King's eyes widened. After the prisoner was dragged out of the chamber and the door closed, he quickly exited through the door behind him, running up the stairs. He burst into a room that sat high over one of the many sentencing rooms, somewhat like a private box at a sports event, just as the doors below him in the room opened. The guards were dragging Soifon into the large circular room.

The King above didn't know how, but he could sense that Soifon knew he was in the room, watching her. His assumptions were proven true when she lifted her gaze and looked him squarely in the eye.

The guards dragged her to a short stone pillar in the center of the room. Bolted onto it was a wooden plank that sat about seven inches above the flattened surface. The set up somewhat resembled a sealed well without the roof.

The guards roughly raised Soi's hands to press against the plank, while a third guard entered the room, carrying barbed wire. He walked over to where his comrades were holding the petite girl.

After making sure that her arms were placed securely against plank, slowly but deliberately, he began to wrap her arms and the plank with the spiked wire, securing her into the pillar. He made sure that the spikes cut into the flesh causing blood to trickle down Soi's arms.

Soi broke her gaze with the King, closing her eyes as she cried out in anguish. The screams caused her body to tremble, further grinding metal into her skin. She gritted her teeth against the pain and struggled to open her eyes, returning them to rest on the spectator above them.

The King was in awe above. How could something like this happen to such a loyal individual? He watched as one of his guards wheeled in a cart full of rope, whips, spikes, and rusted chains. He leered as another tore the clothing off of Soifon's back, revealing, what he suspected would have been soft pale skin, to actually be discolored. Blotched with red, blue, and a sickening brown that was slowly fading to black; the footprints of his men.

He didn't know which emotion hit him harder. Fury, because she didn't belong here. She was innocent, the crime belonging to her master. Pity because she was so devoted to take this, a punishment of another. Or should it be confusion? Why was she doing this for her master? Where was she? Shouldn't she be doing something to stop this?

The confusion didn't last long; the King was reminded why the true criminal wasn't on the dais when the final actions were ready to take place. And disgust rose in his throat like bile.

There were two guards remaining in the room, one was behind Soifon with his hand raised, holding a unraveled leather whip the ends tipped in metal. The other stood in front of the fallen woman, the sacrificial lamb, holding the Kings orders.

With a sickened nod from the noble on high, the charges were read.

The King couldn't help but recall the text he spoke earlier as each charge was read, the words mixing with each and every word from his subject. He couldn't help but think that these were the missing words to the poem he had recited earlier. This was the sickening truth, the sick reward for unwavering devotion.

Devotion

" Devotion.
A word composed of eight letters.
Three syllables.

"We stand here on this day", the guard began, "to carry out the punishment for the highest of crimes against the Soul Society."

A simple word made extremely complicated by the amount of commitment and
Dedication that one has to be willing and able to put towards the matter.

Discipline is its foundation.
Purpose and Will are its catalyst.

Love is its reason for being.

Existing.

"The acts of Treason against the King, The Commander-General, The Gotei Thirteen, and all other subjects under the Law of Soul Society, by the aid in creation and exporting of multiple threats to this Land, acted by the Twenty-Second Head of the Shihouin family, Shihouin Yoruichi are inexcusable."

As she was your reason for reality.
Devoted you were.

You served her well.
Fought in her name,
Moved on her behalf,
Killed at her command,
Placing her life before yours times a hundred fold.

Devotion.

It's what you were.
You were faithful when others deserted her,
Supportive when others doubted,
Comforting when loneliness and fear enveloped her.

"However, under the law, and by the request of Shihouin Yoruichi, the right and Law of Substitution have been enacted, thus passing the torch of punishment of these crimes unto another."

Devotion.

You took care of her in her times of sickness,
Brought food to her in her times of hunger.

Devotion.

You even laid at her feet.
You would have kissed the ground she walked
On now wouldn't you?

"With her acceptance, Shihouin's guard, Shaolin "Soifon" Fon, of the Fon household, has agreed to take on the punishment and allow the criminal to go free. To allow the Princess to continue on with her rule of the Second Squad of the Gotei Thirteen and her command of Mobile Corps."

Devotion.
A word composed of eight letters.
Three syllables.

"At the acknowledgement and acceptance of this substitution by the Soul Society…"

A simple word made extremely complicated by the amount of commitment and
Dedication that one has to be willing and able to put towards the matter.

"…we hereby lay the following punishments to be in acted immediately."

You were that.
You were all of that.
And more.

To the point were she bled you dry.

"For the creation of dangerous enemies that raise a threat to the safety of Soul Society, a sentence of three thousands years of torture."

Devotion.

Yes, no one from here on out will argue against it.
Devotion you were.

"For the act of aiding and exporting these threats, thus pushing the danger into the World of the Living, a sentence of three thousand years of torture."

But let me ask you this simple question.

"And now added to the charges, for an assault on the King of the Soul Society, one thousand years of torture before execution."

When she left you alone and cold on that battle field to die in her place,
Unknown.

"So to be carried out…"

Insane.

"…you shall receive the seven thousand years sentence of continuous torture, before death."

Unloved.

"At the acknowledgement and acceptance of this substitution by the Soul Society…"

When you really truly think back on it,

"… and with the charges read and accepted, let us begin."

Was it all really worth it?"

The King recalled his encounter with Soifon in the other room, his mind replaying the action of her being dragged to her doom.

He thought of his question to her.

"But let me ask you this simple question. When she left you alone and cold on that battle field to die in her place, unknown, insane, unloved, when you truly think back on it, was it all really worth it?"

The guard had finished the reading of the crimes, and the whip was raised higher, ready to strike. Soifon's gaze at King never wavered, and a small smile tugged on her blood caked lips.

She had been smiling then too, when the guards had dragged her from the other room the King realized. Her lips had quivered, a whisper for only to his ears alone.

"Was it all really worth it?"

"Yes."

She had answered him verbally before, and her eyes answered him again now.

Devotion.

The last words were read. "This is the will of the Soul Society, so let it be done."

With those final words the whip fell and cracked flesh, and the cries of pure, mind blowing anguish that filled the air broke the King's heart.

Devotion.

A word composed of eight letters. Three syllables. A simple word made extremely complicated by the amount of commitment and Dedication that one has to be willing and able to put towards the matter.