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"Sorry, Sui-Feng. That guy might be powerful…" Yoruichi Shihouin said with a faint, nostalgic smile, "...but I still can't let you interfere with him."
The sudden reappearance of the person she once admired most shattered the calm mask on Sui-Feng's face. Her expression twisted—shock, confusion, and fury knotting into one—yet even in the storm of emotion, the sharp glint returned to her eyes. "Left without a word... and now shows up again like nothing ever happened," she muttered coldly, her voice tight with resentment. Her chest burned with long-buried emotions, and anger, long dormant, surged to the surface like a drawn blade. "A person like you has no right to tell me what to do!" she shouted, her Reiatsu erupting like a flood bursting from behind a crumbling dam. Without hesitation, she launched herself at Yoruichi, a sharp, lethal kick aimed directly at her former mentor. But Yoruichi, calm and collected, raised an arm and caught the blow with ease. The impact cracked through the air like a whip, but Sui-Feng didn't falter—she spun instantly into another strike, faster, harder, more desperate.
Yoruichi's playful expression vanished, replaced by something resolute and sharpened by memory; she met the renewed attack head-on, her movements swift and practiced, the instincts of a warrior long at rest reigniting. Their battle surged downward as they clashed midair, their forms a blur of motion streaking toward the cliff's base. A thunderous boom erupted as they crashed into the ground, a crater opening beneath their feet and sending a wave of dust spiraling outward. They stood opposite each other at the edge of the pit, silent and still, like dueling statues preparing to move. "So," Sui-Feng's voice echoed low across the pit, "you're siding with those Ryoka this time?" She narrowed her eyes, her pride coiled tight in her stance. "Then why help that man?" Yoruichi only offered a sly smile. "Sorry, Sui-Feng. That's a secret."
Yet neither woman truly understood the other. When Sui-Feng said "that man," she meant Byakuya Kuchiki. When Yoruichi said it, she meant Su Li. Misreading the entire situation, Yoruichi believed Sui-Feng was aligning with Byakuya to suppress Su Li, unaware that Sui-Feng had in fact chosen to fight against Byakuya. Now, with Yoruichi stepping in to block her, that betrayal—whether imagined or not—hit like a betrayal from the past returned. "You nobles… you Four Great Families... you're all the same damn way!" Sui-Feng roared, vanishing in a flash step as she launched another furious assault. Yoruichi's expression darkened, and she met the incoming strike head-on. Fists collided, feet clashed, and sparks flew as the air between them boiled with the fury of their shared history—bonds forged in loyalty now reforged in battle.
---
Sōkyoku Hill
Byakuya Kuchiki stood still and silent atop the execution grounds, his gaze locked on the brilliant cascade of falling sakura petals drifting through the sky like a quiet storm. "Captain Kuchiki," Chōjirō Sasakibe said tightly, eyes narrowed at the swirling blossom storm. "Your attack... doesn't appear to be effective." They could both feel it: Rukia's Reiatsu lingered, intact. She was still alive.
Byakuya said nothing, unmoved. He had expected this. His first strike was never meant to end things, only to gauge the strength of his opponent. Then, just as he had anticipated, the petals scattered violently as a gaping hole burst open in the center of the sakura storm. Amid the falling petals stepped a lone figure—Su Li—carrying Rukia in his arms. The scene was dreamlike, almost gentle in contrast to what had preceded it, but Su Li's expression held nothing romantic.
"Tch… didn't you say these sakura petals tasted sweet?" he muttered, annoyed, his face twisting as he chewed. "Why do they taste like rust?" He spat out the shredded remains of a blossom with clear disgust. Chōjirō Sasakibe's eyes widened with horror, and Byakuya's gaze sharpened as his pupils contracted. He's... chewing on Senbonzakura? Those weren't flowers. Those were blades—thousands of microscopic blades. The manifestation of Byakuya's Zanpakutō. And Su Li had just casually stuffed them in his mouth.
"Is he mocking me?" Sasakibe whispered, incredulous. Rukia, cradled in Su Li's arms, flushed with shock and alarm. "Su Li... those petals aren't actual flowers. You can't eat them." "I just wanted to try one," he grumbled. "I've been here this long and haven't seen a single real blossom. This whole place is a scam." She had no words. Her heart, already shaken by his display of impossible strength, now churned with emotions she couldn't name—terrified, comforted, protected, powerless.
Below, the two elder Shinigami stood in uneasy silence. Then Chōjirō reached slowly for his sword. "Captain Kuchiki… let's take him together," he said heavily, like a man volunteering for his own execution. "You can't defeat him alone." He took one step forward. "Bankai—"
Byakuya raised a single hand. "Vice Captain Sasakibe. Do not interfere." The command was quiet but firm. Sasakibe paused, then lowered his hand. He understood immediately. Byakuya would never allow anyone to fight beside him against a single enemy—not even an enemy like this. To do so would be to stain the Kuchiki name, and worse, to abandon his own ideals. For a man like Byakuya, the only honorable way forward was to die standing, sword in hand, pride intact. Sasakibe, though long skeptical of such antiquated notions, found himself moved. The strong should face the strong. Alone. Wordlessly, he stepped back and gave the field to his Captain.
---
Byakuya's gaze met Su Li's with cool intensity. "Su Li. Draw your sword," he said, voice ringing like tempered steel. "If you wish to take this criminal, then you will do so by stepping over my corpse." Su Li blinked once, visibly surprised. "Brother…" Rukia whispered, her voice fragile. So that's it, Su Li thought. A martyr's play. Honor through sacrifice.
He smiled faintly. "Rukia, for what it's worth… your brother really does love you." Rukia looked up at him, eyes wide, lips parted but silent. She didn't understand what he meant. Not yet. But Su Li did. Byakuya's plan was clear: face Su Li in battle, die nobly, and preserve the dignity of the Kuchiki Clan. His death would redeem Rukia's actions, reinforce his loyalty to Seireitei, and protect the family's status. A noble's death. A political solution. A brother's love, expressed in silence and sacrifice.
"Classic straight-man logic," Su Li muttered with a shake of his head. "So restrained it might explode." Still, he respected it. "You've been waiting for this duel for a long time, haven't you, Captain Kuchiki?" Byakuya's brows twitched at the memory—Renji in Squad Two, his own voice echoing in his mind: Don't waste time. Draw your sword. Now, he repeated the sentiment aloud. "Don't speak. Fight me."
"Alright," Su Li said, smiling. "But wait a moment." He shifted Rukia in his arms slightly, gaze tilting toward the horizon. He sensed them—two spiritual pressures drawing near fast. He had no real need to carry Rukia anymore, not for the battle, and certainly not for what came next. Byakuya made no protest. He too sensed it. And he welcomed the pause—not as a courtesy to his opponent, but for himself. This might be his final battle.
Moments later, two figures sprinted up the stone path of Sōkyoku Hill. Rukia gasped, her heart lurching. "Renji?! Ichigo?!"
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