Bleach: Soi-Fon's Challenge Begins with Ultra Instinct

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"Let's begin," Su Li said with calm authority as he resumed the training session, his gaze sweeping across the assembled unit.

Without hesitation, the members of the Secret Mobile Team shifted into formation, each one gliding into their designated position with the silent precision honed through years of discipline. Su Li launched into his demonstration again, but this time, his movements were accompanied by a steady stream of instruction, his words as deliberate as his strikes. Every motion carried weight, and every correction he offered illuminated a truth they had long overlooked. The agents followed him with unwavering attention, their eyes absorbing the subtle interplay between movement, breath, and energy, as if trying to drink from a spring whose depth they had never noticed before.

Sui-Feng remained at the edge of the room, her posture composed, her eyes fixed on Su Li with quiet intensity, the corners of her lips lifted in a rare and subtle smile that softened the usual sharpness of her features.

Despite having exchanged few personal words with him in the past, she had always regarded Su Li as a mild and amiable figure—someone whose quiet warmth and effortless poise made him approachable without being mundane. Yet in this moment, standing before his assembled unit with authority rooted in more than just rank, Su Li's presence exuded a different kind of power. The gentleness he had always carried had not vanished, but rather had transformed into something tempered by purpose, a stillness underpinned by deadly potential.

That softness no longer stood alone; it now existed as a veneer over controlled violence, a calm forged not from passivity but from unwavering confidence.

Behind that collected exterior lay the instincts of a killer honed sharp enough to pierce through hesitation itself.

He had become the embodiment of Sui-Feng's ideal—power wrapped in stillness, danger cloaked in restraint, like steel hidden beneath silk. And watching that ideal manifest so effortlessly in front of her made her breath still.

Omaeda, observing from a short distance away, caught her expression and released an exasperated sigh, though he kept it internal.

To see Sui-Feng, the infamous Ice Queen of the Second Division, wear such softness on her face felt like witnessing the impossible.

Still, it made sense. Power recognized power, and someone like Sui-Feng was bound to take notice. If Su Li had been born a woman, he would have had admirers swarming the gates of the First Division. Yet even as a man, his presence was already rewriting the air around him.

Of course, Omaeda's version of admiration lacked the subtlety or seriousness that colored his captain's thoughts.

"Ma'am, if you keep gripping that scroll like that, it's going to snap in half," he muttered under his breath, eyes flicking to the parchment in her hands, which she held like sacred scripture.

"Mind your own business," she answered with unbroken focus, her voice level, her fingers now adjusting almost imperceptibly as she smoothed the delicate folds with silent precision.

Omaeda gave a theatrical sigh that was more a silent cry for recognition than genuine frustration, but he had already resigned himself to the idea that trying to reason with a woman in love—especially this woman—was a path to nowhere.

In the center of the dojo, Su Li pressed forward with his instruction, moving with an ease that betrayed the decades of experience behind every breath and stance.

His control over martial technique was indisputable, and though his words were free of grand rhetoric, each one struck with clarity and insight, as though he were peeling away layers of misunderstanding they hadn't even known were there. Where once they relied on instinct, they now moved with reason, discovering the hidden seams of the martial world he so effortlessly revealed.

Concepts that had once felt obscure now shone with simplicity, and nuances that once passed unnoticed now appeared as the very spine of effective combat.

Su Li's vision extended far beyond theirs. He didn't speak from a place of camaraderie, nor did he pretend at humility; he instructed them from the mountaintop, a grandmaster disguised as a captain.

With every correction, every slowed motion, the weight of his mastery settled into their bones like truth itself.

Even Sui-Feng, who had once helped define the old Hakuda style, found herself unconsciously mimicking his movements, her body echoing the flow of his technique without needing conscious thought. The rhythm of the dojo shifted with the wind of motion, sharp and swift, as every limb sliced through the air in perfect alignment with an invisible rhythm Su Li alone conducted.

Once his lecture came to a natural end, Su Li gave the signal for them to begin practicing independently, and the energy in the room shifted instantly into something almost feverish.

Excitement shimmered through the air as agents paired off, each trying to embody the ideas he had instilled in them, while Su Li watched in silence, his satisfaction registering only as a faint smile curling at the edge of his mouth.

He had taken the first step in something larger than technique, larger than discipline—he was reshaping the entire foundation of the Secret Mobile Team.

His objective had never been modest improvement or marginal gains.

He wasn't training a unit.

He was assembling an army—a force capable not just of standing toe-to-toe with the Wandenreich's Sternritter but of surpassing them, striking from the shadows with perfect precision and unified lethality.

His ambition had never been rooted in personal glory. It was about legacy.

And for that to manifest, he needed his teachings to spread not through control, but through belief.

Loyalty, in his mind, was not a prerequisite.

What mattered was the replication of strength. As long as they practiced his methods, their understanding of combat would evolve under his influence. And once strength bloomed under his system, admiration would naturally follow. Eventually, they would no longer see him as just a captain or teacher.

They would see him as something elemental.

In Soul Society, reverence was granted only to those who embodied power—and Su Li understood that better than anyone.

At present, only the elite had begun absorbing the White Killing Technique. But that was merely the first ripple. Soon, these elites would pass the knowledge down, and that ripple would grow into a wave that would consume the entire structure of the Secret Mobile Team.

When the transformation was complete, it would no longer be tradition that defined the unit.

It would be Su Li.

The moment's stillness broke as Sui-Feng stepped forward, her voice cutting through the afterglow of the training session.

"Su Li."

Her cheeks carried a soft blush, a vulnerability not often seen from her.

He turned toward her, noting the rare hesitation in her approach. "Yes?"

"This technique you're teaching—does it have a name?" she asked, her tone formal but slightly uneven, as if revealing more than she intended.

Su Li blinked in response, caught slightly off-guard. Naming it hadn't even crossed his mind. These were refinements of classical Hakuda, deviations meant to enhance effectiveness. They weren't something he had considered branding.

He shook his head slowly. "Nothing official. They're just structural enhancements. Naming them didn't feel necessary."

Her expression shifted, the faint frown on her brow betraying her disapproval. "That's not enough. These techniques deviate too far from traditional Hakuda. Without a proper designation, future practitioners will confuse old forms with yours. It will lead to technical collapse."

Her blunt critique made him pause. As usual, her instincts were precise.

Scratching at his jaw, he tried to lighten the mood. "Then how about… 'Tiny Fist Beats Your Chest?'" he offered, his voice deliberately playful.

The glare she gave him was unrelenting. "Be serious. This isn't something you can afford to joke about. A name endures far longer than the person who first speaks it. If you treat this lightly now, the entire Soul Society will mock you one day."

He chuckled awkwardly, conceding with a shrug. Naming wasn't his strength, and he knew it.

Omaeda, ever the opportunist, jumped in. "Captain Su Li created it, right? Then what about calling it 'Soda'?"

Sui-Feng looked physically pained. "Why not just go all the way and name it 'Sparkling Water'?"

"I was just trying to help…" he muttered, defeated.

Ignoring him completely, Sui-Feng folded her arms and began to pace, her thoughts clearly circling. After a long pause, her eyes lit with certainty.

"This technique evolved from Hakuda but leaves it far behind in function and result. Let's name it—White Killing."

Both Su Li and Omaeda gave approving gestures without hesitation.

"Concise. Evocative. Perfect."

"Cold and clean. It fits."

Su Li offered her a look of genuine respect, and she—unaccustomed to praise—quickly turned her face away before the heat in her cheeks betrayed her.

"Then it's settled," she said, regaining composure. "From this day forward, the martial system will be known as the White Killing Technique."

Su Li nodded. "We'll begin rolling it out across the Xing Jun and the Police Squad. You'll oversee the training. In order to do that, you'll need to master it entirely."

Her heart beat faster than she'd like to admit. "Understood."

She had already planned to immerse herself in the style the moment she returned home.

Omaeda, meanwhile, passed Su Li's order to the rest of the unit, his voice carrying down the corridor.

Shock rippled through the ranks. For the first time, a technique was being shared across the board—no noble priority, no rank-based preference, no gatekeeping of bloodline or division. This was meritocracy at its purest.

And because of that, admiration for Su Li deepened with unexpected speed.

Most of them had only just met him. But already, they viewed him as something greater than a superior officer.

He had become a direction.

A standard.

A pillar.

Su Li felt the shift in their energy and understood immediately: the spark of loyalty had taken root, and from it, something far more powerful would grow.

"Continue practicing. Sui-Feng will provide guidance. If she encounters difficulty, she knows where to find me," Su Li said, his voice firm yet unhurried.

"Yes, Captain," she responded, the warmth in her voice barely restrained.

Private training with Su Li—she would savor every moment.

Omaeda glanced at her and sighed again, the depth of her focus making it abundantly clear that she was all in.

"She's going to master this like her life depends on it…"

Su Li offered no further words. He turned on his heel and left the training hall, his silhouette receding into the corridor with measured steps.

And behind him, the room remained still—Sui-Feng and Omaeda both watching until he vanished from sight.

—

Captain-Commander's Office

Yamamoto Genryūsai placed the intelligence report down with deliberate slowness, his expression softening just enough to reveal the rare glint of approval beneath centuries of hardened instinct.

"…This child is extraordinary."

The document detailed Su Li's demonstration of the White Killing Technique in clear, methodical prose. An informant from within the unit—a trusted agent embedded by Yamamoto himself—had wasted no time in transmitting the report.

The old man had never placed blind trust in power, no matter how brilliant its source. A force like Su Li's required careful eyes on the inside.

Sasakibe, standing at attention nearby, voiced his concern with professional tact. "Captain-Commander, is it wise to allow this shift? Altering foundational techniques may threaten structural stability. Our traditions have endured for thousands of years. A ripple this large could become a wave."

Yamamoto's eyes, though sharp, did not flare with reprimand.

"You doubt the judgment of my disciple?"

"I dare not," Sasakibe replied immediately, bowing low. "But I worry whether the repercussions will ultimately harm more than they help."

"You've been with me too long," Yamamoto said, his tone softened by affection and wisdom. "Your caution has deepened with age."

He turned toward the window, staring beyond the horizon as if watching history shift beneath his feet.

"But this is no mere deviation from doctrine."

"This is not just a beneficial evolution."

"This is a revelation."

"White Killing will not merely fortify the Secret Mobile Team—it will reach the heart of all thirteen divisions."

"It will do more than strengthen Soul Society…"

"It will redefine it."

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