Between heaven and earth, silence fell.
The crowd said nothing. Their eyes, wide and trembling, were filled with astonishment and disbelief.
When all eyes turned to Aizen, even the air seemed to hold its breath.
The boy's words had been spoken. Victory and defeat had already been decided.
So why—why was Aizen still alive?
Confusion spread like a fever through the hearts of all who watched. Bewilderment, panic, denial—each emotion rippled through the gathering like an invisible storm.
Even Aizen himself was lost.
He stared blankly at his chest. His mind was empty.
No pain. No cold.
No fading vitality.
Nothing.
It was as if the shadow of death had never touched him. Yet those eight black characters were still carved across his chest, dark and undeniable.
Indelible.
Aizen's composure wavered.
He knew the boy would never act without meaning.
Something was wrong.
"Uh…"
"Urahara," Kyoraku muttered, glancing at the man beside him. "Did something in the link go wrong?"
Urahara Kisuke rubbed his chin, uncertain. "Hmm… I wonder… maybe the order was reversed?"
"First there are people beyond people, then mountains beyond mountains…" Kyoraku murmured, his tone half-joking but his eyes sharp.
They both fell silent again. No one could draw a clear conclusion. After all, this was the first time anyone had witnessed Su Li's technique. His true abilities were unknown—completely outside their understanding.
Every eye turned between Aizen and Su Li. The tension hanging over the battlefield grew heavier, sharper.
The end of the battle was at hand. One final step remained.
The air itself trembled beneath the weight of it.
Aizen finally lifted his head, his movements stiff and slow. His voice cracked, like rust scraping against iron.
"Why…"
Why was he not dead yet?
Su Li didn't answer immediately. He simply raised one hand, wiping sweat from his brow. The mix of sweat and water glistened against his pale skin.
"When," Su Li finally spoke, his voice calm and clear, "did you start thinking… that you would die?"
The question made Aizen freeze. Around them, everyone stared, equally stunned.
When?
It had started the moment Su Li wrote that single vertical stroke. The moment his brush met the air.
Su Li smiled faintly. "It was never a chant… never a ritual," he said softly. "It was only… a return gift."
His voice drifted on the wind, light but unmistakable.
Eyes dulled with confusion. Even Aizen's expression grew vacant.
In the young man's calm, glass-like gaze, there was meaning layered beneath meaning.
Forty years ago, Aizen had given him a parting gift.
Forty years later, Su Li offered him a reply.
The courtesy of gentlemen—mutual and measured.
Aizen's heart twisted. Once, he had been the man most deserving of that title: gentleman.
Now he was nothing of the sort.
A beast in fine clothes, refined words masking the corruption within.
That had all long passed. Now, he was simply a monster—black-faced, fanged, hollowed by ambition.
But the boy before him… was unchanged.
His smile remained as gentle as the wind threading through a mountain stream. Warm. Untroubled.
Aizen felt something stir deep inside him. Confusion.
Had it all been worth it?
Su Li's voice interrupted the thought, smooth and distant.
"From the beginning," he said, "I had the ability to kill you. I just wasn't certain of it then."
As he spoke, Su Li slowly lifted his hand. A small black sphere of energy formed in his palm.
Every gaze locked onto it. Though no Reiatsu could be felt—no spiritual pressure, no fluctuation—everyone's instincts screamed.
This was not fear born of strength. It was primal terror.
The kind of dread that lived at the root of existence itself.
Aizen stared at the sphere. He recognized it instantly.
The same black energy that had carved those words into his chest.
He knew instinctively—if he so much as brushed against it, he would vanish completely.
Not merely die. Not ascend to heaven, nor fall to hell.
But cease to exist.
"Ah…" Aizen exhaled, a faint, hollow sound. His shoulders slumped.
He had lost.
Lost to arrogance. To pride.
He had believed the Hōgyoku made him godlike. That with its power, he could surpass creation itself.
But gods already existed.
Not the corrupt relics of the Soul King's Palace—no.
It was the boy before him.
Su Li had proven his divinity through power alone.
An existence apart from heaven and earth.
The only one of his kind.
Aizen's gaze dimmed. Defeat filled his eyes.
There was only one question left.
"Why… don't you kill me?"
His voice was hollow, the faintest echo of the man he once was.
Su Li's expression softened slightly. "Some people," he said quietly, "are more useful alive than dead."
He patted Aizen's shoulder with a casual, almost careless gesture.
Silence fell once more.
The words carried weight, but no one could decipher their full meaning.
Aizen lowered his head. "Yes…" he whispered, almost to himself.
Clang.
A clear, crisp sound.
Su Li's eyes lifted.
Aizen's right hand trembled. The blade within it suddenly cracked apart—revealing a fragment of his Zanpakutō.
Kyōka Suigetsu.
Now shattered.
Su Li understood instantly. This was Aizen's last stubbornness—his final act of will.
"As I said," Su Li murmured, "your Kyōka Suigetsu doesn't work on me."
Aizen smiled faintly, his lips twisting. "I know," he said. Then, raising his eyes, he added, "But it worked on him."
Su Li froze.
Slowly, he turned to follow Aizen's gaze.
Far away, at the edge of the vast crater, a lone figure stood—bandaged, dark-haired, his presence like a storm barely contained.
Kurosaki Ichigo.
But his face was crimson, veins bulging around his eyes. His lips trembled as he muttered broken words.
"...Natsuri… Yuzu…"
"How… how…"
Su Li didn't know what illusion Aizen had woven, but he could see enough in Ichigo's eyes—the madness, the bottomless killing intent spilling into the air.
Whatever Aizen had shown him, it was unspeakably cruel.
"How about it…" Aizen said, voice low and venomous. "You're running out of strength. What will you do now?"
Su Li said nothing.
The wind stirred, brushing against his soaked robes that clung tightly to his back.
In the distance, Ichigo's whisper grew into a roar.
"Unforgivable… unforgivable!!"
The killing intent around him flared like fire, soaring skyward.
Ichigo raised his sword—his hands shaking violently with grief and rage.
"Hey! Ichigo!!"
Rukia's voice broke through the air, desperate.
"Stop it! Boy!!" Renji bellowed.
"Ichigo!! Calm down!! It's all an illusion!!" Orihime cried, tears in her eyes.
The others shouted, faces pale with alarm.
At such a critical moment, Ichigo couldn't tell friend from foe.
But the red-eyed boy didn't hear a single word.
"I need to…"
"Kill you!!"
Ichigo's roar tore the air apart. His sword rose high above his head, spiritual power exploding from him.
"Getsuga—!"
"—Tenshō!!!"
Boom!!
A roaring black crescent erupted from his blade, tearing across the battlefield.
The world shook.
The ground split. The sky darkened.
Where the blade's light passed, everything vanished into dust.
The sheer power reached the heavens, pierced the abyss, and came straight for Su Li.
"What incredible power…" Aizen murmured, his gaze filled with awe—and grim admiration.
Su Li stood still, momentarily dazed.
He had never expected that Kurosaki Ichigo would unleash his full strength the instant they met.
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