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The moment Central 46's ruling echoed across the Seireitei, shock rooted itself in every division like a silent explosion, leaving captains, lieutenants, and unseated Shinigami alike suspended in a shared disbelief that stole the breath from their lungs and forced them to question the very foundation of Soul Society's justice.
No one could fathom why the judgment had descended with such weight and cruelty, for though rules had always been absolute and the law sacred, the death penalty—especially the irreversible sentence of execution by Sōkyoku—was traditionally reserved only for those whose crimes had shattered the core of Soul Society, whether through betrayal of duty, collusion with Hollows, or rebellion against the Gotei 13 itself.
That Rukia Kuchiki, noble by birth and steady in her duties, should be marked for such a fate simply for transferring her power in a desperate moment defied reason, and even among the strictest adherents of order, questions formed in hushed, anxious tones that no one dared raise aloud in front of their superiors.
Yet as these murmurs swept through the barracks and filled the gaps left by stunned silence, Su Li offered neither commentary nor outward emotion, his expression remaining still as polished stone, as if what had shocked the others had merely affirmed what he had already foreseen.
Without waiting for the commotion to settle, he turned his back on the broadcast and walked with unhurried steps toward the quiet halls of the Second Division, the decision weighing nothing on his shoulders because, in truth, he had anticipated this outcome long before the others had even begun to imagine it.
He knew, with absolute certainty, that Rukia's offense, while technically a violation, had never warranted execution, and that her arrest had not originated from law but from the manipulations of Aizen Sōsuke, who, from behind the veil of authority, had used Central 46 as a puppet court, Byakuya Kuchiki as an unwitting executioner, and the entire Gotei 13 as unwilling players in a performance designed to extract a hidden prize—the Hōgyoku embedded within Rukia's soul.
Because Aizen lacked the means to safely extract the artifact while she lived, he had orchestrated a flawless narrative that demanded her obliteration beneath the SĹŤkyoku's flame, turning law into weapon, justice into mask, and execution into surgical extraction veiled in ritual and authority.
But Su Li, unlike the rest of Soul Society, had never bought the lie, for he had long grown accustomed to reading beneath the surface of such machinations, and whether Aizen twisted the truth with grandeur or subtlety, it changed nothing, because Su Li had already memorized the shape of the script Aizen believed he had written.
As he ascended the steps back to his division, the silence behind him still thick with tension, a voice called out suddenly, cutting through the air like a sword drawn without warning.
"Captain Kuchiki! We have to do something now!"
Renji Abarai's voice trembled with urgency, his usually composed expression contorted with anxiety, the weight of fear and helplessness pressing so hard into his words that even his reverence for Byakuya could no longer contain it.
But Byakuya, facing away and standing beside a simple teacup he had not yet touched, gave no response, neither a reprimand nor an acknowledgment, his stillness more absolute than a denial.
Renji's panic swelled, his body tense with restrained desperation, sweat beading on his forehead as he stepped closer, unwilling to accept the silence from the man he had followed and respected for years.
"Captain! If this goes on, Rukia will—"
Byakuya's voice sliced through him like a blade of ice, quiet but irrevocable.
"I said enough."
Turning slowly, his face cold as untouched snow, Byakuya met Renji's eyes without blinking, his words measured and devoid of warmth.
"Renji, I already told you. This is the ruling of Central 46. It is not yours to question, nor mine to interfere with."
Though Renji's fists clenched and his jaw tightened, the chill in his captain's voice left no room for protest.
"But she's not guilty of anything close to this," Renji insisted, his voice cracking, his breath shallow as he fought against both fear and protocol.
Byakuya's gaze remained fixed, and after a pause long enough to allow Renji's words to die in the air, he spoke again with an almost mechanical precision.
"Her guilt, whether minor or profound, is irrelevant. The law does not adjust itself to emotion or convenience. The judgment of Central 46, once delivered, is final and fair by definition. As Shinigami, we are not sworn to sentiment—we are sworn to obedience."
His tone, ironbound and absolute, left no space for rebuttal, and as the words settled, a final warning followed, sharp as steel.
"Abarai Renji, I will not repeat myself."
Faced with the full weight of his captain's presence, Renji found himself unable to speak, the defiance in his chest slowly collapsing into resignation as he raised his hand halfway, only to let it fall uselessly to his side.
"Leave."
Byakuya's command came without pause or cruelty, but the dismissal struck with finality, and Renji, lowering his head and turning without another word, exited the room with a defeated gait that felt heavier than armor, his shadow long and wilted as it slipped down the corridor.
Left alone once more, Byakuya moved to sit at his desk, the same teacup in his hand cracking in his palm with a faint shatter that marked the only sign of tension beneath his otherwise flawless composure, the warm tea bleeding down his fingers, mingling with a quiet line of blood from where porcelain had split his skin, yet not once did he react or speak.
—
The days slipped by, and in what felt like a blink, nearly a month had passed, leaving only a handful of days before the moment when Rukia Kuchiki would be led to the SĹŤkyoku Hill for her public execution.
Throughout this time, Renji visited the Repentance Cell as often as he was permitted, arriving in silence and leaving in heavier silence, each day carving deeper hollows beneath his eyes and tightening the fatigue in his shoulders.
"Rukia, I'm doing everything I can," he said one afternoon, fingers curled tightly around the iron bars as though he could tear them apart with sheer will, his voice trembling with insistence even as his body betrayed exhaustion.
"I'll convince Captain Kuchiki. I'll find a way. I swear I'll make him listen."
Opposite him, clad in white prison robes that hung too loosely on her shrinking frame, Rukia gave him a small smile that carried more sorrow than hope, her eyes soft but dulled with acceptance.
"Thank you, Renji… but you know as well as I do that Brother Byakuya won't be swayed."
Her voice held no bitterness, only quiet understanding.
"He's bound by something far older and stronger than affection—he serves the law, not his heart, and once he accepts a verdict, nothing can bend him."
She raised her gaze, letting her eyes meet his with gentle sincerity.
"But having you here… even for a little while… makes it easier to bear."
That smile she gave him, fragile and fleeting, felt like the last spark of a candle before it flickered out.
Renji's body tensed, fury rising in him like wildfire, and with a cry that rang through the cold cell, he struck the bars with his bloodied fist, each punch echoing louder than the last.
"Damn it! He said she'd be fine! He promised! I believed him, and now…"
The words choked, his voice strangled by grief, rage, and helplessness tangled into one storm of sorrow.
A guard, appearing at the corridor's edge, barked an order with no room for argument.
"Visiting time is over!"
Renji didn't respond at first, too consumed by everything he couldn't change, but as the warning repeated, louder and more forceful, he straightened slowly and turned toward Rukia again, forcing a smile so brittle it looked ready to collapse.
"Don't worry, Rukia. I'm not giving up. I'll try again. I'll make him see reason."
Rukia lowered her gaze, offering no reply.
The guard's voice snapped again.
Renji, staring at her one last time, turned and left without a word, pausing only to shoot the guard a cold look before his silhouette vanished at the end of the hallway.
The silence that followed was thicker than before.
Rukia, once alone, drew her knees to her chest and curled against the stone wall, shivering faintly as she closed her eyes. The cold inside the Repentance Cell, she had come to realize, came not from the temperature—but from what it meant to be forgotten.
Then, without warning, footsteps echoed again.
The guard returned, his tone shifted now, more measured and unexpectedly respectful.
"Rukia Kuchiki, someone has requested a visit."
Startled by the unexpected announcement, Rukia lifted her head slowly, confusion pulling at her brow as she tried to imagine who would come. Other than Renji, only Captain Ukitake had appeared briefly, and Brother Byakuya had never once entered these halls.
She had few friends in the Gotei 13, and even fewer who would risk their reputation to be seen speaking to a condemned criminal.
And yet, someone had come.
As she watched the corridor in silence, a figure appeared.
He wore a Captain's Haori with quiet authority, his steps relaxed and his expression unreadable, his face young and clear, his presence unmistakable.
Rukia's breath caught in her throat.
Her eyes widened as recognition struck her heart like lightning.
"…Su Li… Captain…"
The name left her lips before she realized she had spoken, and in that instant, the silence inside her mind broke, leaving only one thought behind:
Why him?
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