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The past two days had unfolded like a fever dream through the streets and corridors of Seireitei, smothering the Court of Pure Souls in a tension so thick it clung to the lungs and refused to lift.
It had begun with the unthinkable—the Soul Cloak Membrane, long considered impenetrable, had been torn open by intruders of a foreign spiritual class. These entities, unfamiliar and aggressive, had quickly become known among the Shinigami as Ryoka—"travel disasters," a term equal parts fear and disdain.
But it was the second event that cleaved deepest into the heart of the Gotei 13: Aizen Sōsuke, the venerable and unfailingly composed captain of the Fifth Division, had been discovered dead. His body, cold and still beneath the sunless skies of Seireitei, sent ripples through the ranks like a spiritual quake.
Abarai Renji, vice-captain of the Sixth Division and known for both his loyalty and ferocity, had been defeated in a manner that spoke not merely of physical overwhelm but complete spiritual suppression.
These revelations, scandalous in nature and terrifying in implication, fanned out across Seireitei like wildfire driven by divine wind—whispers carried by swift-footed messengers, gossip darting between barracks, muttered speculation infecting the lips of even seasoned captains. The quiet murmur of dread thickened into a roar that would not abate.
As the evening sun dipped behind the jagged horizon and cast long amber shadows across the city's ivory spires, a single figure strode into the Second Division barracks. His steps fell with a silence so absolute that even the guards instinctively tensed, as though warned by instinct rather than sight.
Their reaction was immediate and instinctive. Words died on tongues. Eyebrows tensed. Muscles locked into place as Su Li, the enigmatic captain whose very presence in the last forty-eight hours had become a source of tightening dread, walked through the courtyard.
Where once there had been admiration wrapped in mystery, there now lived a tense, questioning silence. Rumors no longer lingered in shadows—they walked hand in hand with fear. Some believed Su Li's connection to Aizen's death too convenient to be mere coincidence; others whispered that the spiritual trace left during the Ryoka breach matched no other signature more than it did his own. Regardless of theory, one truth stood unchallenged: he remained their superior, and protocol still demanded deference.
And so, despite eyes narrowed with doubt and throats dry with tension, the gathered squad members straightened their postures and offered wary bows, voices quiet and laced with unease.
"Captain Su Li…"
"...Master Captain."
Acknowledging them with the faintest tilt of his head and a ghost of a smile, Su Li moved forward without hesitation, his pace unbroken, his composure untarnished by their conflicted expressions. His aura pressed down upon the hallway like a weighted mist, oppressive and suffocating in its silence as he ascended the stone steps toward the main office.
Halfway up, he crossed paths with Omaeda Marechiyo.
The vice-captain, known as much for his cowardice as for his exaggerated theatrics, froze like a deer caught beneath a predatory gaze. His eyes widened, and his chest visibly rose and fell, each breath shallower than the last. The sound that left his lips was barely recognizable as his usual voice.
"Captain Su Li…"
His words, slow and tremulous, were a pale echo of his usual bluster, his typical arrogance stripped bare beneath a layer of thinly veiled panic. He couldn't meet Su Li's gaze, couldn't steady his hands, and as his mouth moved soundlessly for a moment, it became obvious that the man was battling an internal war of restraint and fear.
Su Li's response was not one of anger or frustration, but a serene and detached amusement, as if he had long foreseen this reaction and accepted it without protest. After all, with every whispered accusation that now clung to the corridors of Seireitei, his name had become entangled with scandal, whether by suspicion or orchestration. Those beneath him—whether devoted or doubtful—could not help but flinch beneath the weight of uncertainty.
But Su Li had never been the sort to chase validation or wear loyalty like armor.
"Where's Sui-Feng?" he asked, voice low, steady, and resolute in its authority.
"Uh… Lady Sui-Feng… she didn't sleep last night, sir. She's currently resting in her quarters…" Omaeda stammered, trying desperately to package his words into something safe and accurate, though the panic in his eyes betrayed his effort.
Su Li gave a small nod in response and continued walking without pause.
Yet Omaeda hesitated. His feet remained rooted, but his fingers twitched with indecision before a flicker of courage—or perhaps desperation—drove him to pursue his captain.
"My lord," he began again, struggling to keep the tremor from his voice, "you haven't returned since the previous night. The situation has worsened. I'm not sure if you've received all the recent reports…"
His voice trailed off, seeking some flicker of reaction on Su Li's face, but upon seeing none, he rushed ahead, urgency overriding restraint.
"The Technology Development Bureau has confirmed the total number of Ryoka: six in all. Three have already been dealt with. Ishida Uryū was subdued by Captain Kurotsuchi—though not without heavy resistance—Sado Yasutora was taken down by Captain Kyōraku, and Shiba Ganju was intercepted and captured by Captain Kuchiki during what appears to have been an attempted prison break to rescue Rukia Kuchiki."
He swallowed hard and added, "Captain-Commander Yamamoto has declared that the remaining intruders are to be spared for now… until Aizen's death has been fully examined."
"The other three—Ichigo Kurosaki, Orihime Inoue, and the Quincy again—have vanished. No one has detected their spiritual signatures since the collapse of the battle zones."
Su Li gave a small nod, faint and unreadable, but his lack of surprise was almost unsettling.
He had known this already.
He had been aware that Ishida, despite gaining the upper hand against Kurotsuchi, had lost his Quincy powers entirely during the clash and had been retrieved unconscious by Tousen Kaname himself.
He had known that Sado's reckless brute strength had proved insufficient against Kyōraku's elegance and speed, leading to his unconscious defeat and subsequent detainment in the medical division.
He had also known that Ganju's fury had driven him headlong into Kuchiki Byakuya's path, and there, he had fallen in a manner so one-sided that even the guards had flinched.
At Su Li's nonchalant reaction, Omaeda released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his body visibly relaxing.
"I just… can't understand the nerve of these humans," he said, his words now colored more with confusion than contempt. "Barging into Seireitei like they own it, igniting chaos, and now… this tragedy with Captain Aizen. Surely the two must be connected?"
There was a beat of silence. And then, Su Li smiled.
"Not necessarily."
Omaeda's face drained of all color.
The blood in his veins turned to ice, and the faint hum of spirit particles in the air seemed to twist. In that moment, it was as if the walls themselves leaned in to listen.
"My lord… everything's fragile now. The whole system's fraying at the edges. Please… stay in the barracks tonight. Don't give them more fuel for doubt. Don't… don't become the center of it."
His words tumbled from his mouth like a man speaking through a fever dream, trying to tie down a storm with string.
Su Li turned then, his expression unchanged but his smile deepening ever so slightly—not cruel, not mocking, but disconcertingly calm.
"We'll see."
And in that moment, Omaeda felt the floor vanish beneath him.
His limbs turned to lead, and all he could do was stare after his captain's retreating figure, his heart pounding in the stillness like a drum announcing judgment.
---
Elsewhere, buried deep within the quiet shadows of the Fifth Division Barracks...
Every division headquarters had a detention chamber tucked beneath its polished stone floors—small, windowless cells reserved for Shinigami who'd broken minor codes or faltered in duty. Yet today, behind one of those barred doors, sat a prisoner who had once radiated kindness like sunlight: Hinamori Momo.
Deputy captain. Loyal subordinate. Once the heart of her division.
Now she was little more than a husk of grief.
Hunched in the gloom, she sat without motion, her back bowed and her skin drawn pale, eyes hollow and crusted with the remnants of weeping. She hadn't spoken in hours, perhaps days. She had no words left for a world that no longer held her captain.
Aizen's death hadn't wounded her. It had annihilated her.
She had worshipped him—not blindly, but with the sort of idealistic purity only a few souls ever dared possess. In her eyes, he had been perfect. And now, with that pillar crumbled and the sky darkened, there remained only silence and ache.
Hitsugaya Tōshirō, her childhood friend and now captain of the Tenth Division, had warned her. He had cautioned her to beware Su Li and Ichimaru Gin. And when Gin was discovered standing above Aizen's body, she had drawn her Zanpakutō without a shred of hesitation, driven by anguish, not reason.
Hitsugaya had acted quickly. He had disarmed her, declared her unstable, and ordered her detainment—not out of punishment, but mercy.
A single sound echoed through the hallway now—footsteps.
Soft. Familiar.
Rangiku Matsumoto appeared outside the cell, her expression tight with worry.
"Hinamori," she said softly, approaching with careful steps and holding something wrapped in gentle fingers. "I… found something."
She reached between the bars and offered a folded letter.
Hinamori blinked once, then twice.
"We discovered it in Captain Aizen's quarters," Rangiku murmured. "It has your name on it."
As if struck by lightning, Hinamori surged forward, snatching the paper from Rangiku's hand, her trembling fingers clinging to it like a lifeline pulled from drowning waters.
Rangiku watched for a breath longer, then gave a quiet sigh, turning away.
"…Take your time. I'll leave you be."
And her footsteps vanished down the corridor like the last sound in a dream.
Kneeling once more, Hinamori held the letter to her chest, sobs silent, breath ragged, clinging to the envelope as though its warmth could somehow restore her soul. Then, slowly, she opened it.
Her eyes widened.
No doubt. She knew the handwriting.
Aizen's.
Hinamori,
Forgive me for leaving you this way.
Tonight, I will confront him—at the Eastern Wall of the Great Saint's Tomb.
I have felt his intentions rising like heat, and I must act.
If he continues down this path, I will fight. If necessary, I will fall.
If that happens… I entrust you with my final wish. Avenge me.
This is not a command from your captain. This is my request—as a man, as someone who believed in your strength.
Expose him. Reveal the truth he buried.
His name is Su Li.
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