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

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The arena held its breath. All eyes locked on Su Li. Even Zaraki Kenpachi, still gripping his sword mid-swing, stood frozen. His trademark grin stiffened, disbelief creeping into his wild eyes. Until Yamamoto spoke, Kenpachi hadn't even realized—Su Li's eyes had been closed the entire time.

Kenpachi drew in a breath, but it did little to settle the pressure pounding in his chest. He'd rated this boy highly before—but not highly enough. He'd underestimated him.

The air was heavy with stunned silence. Under hundreds of stares, Su Li lifted his head slowly, a calm, sheepish smile curling across his face like someone stretching after a nap. "Sorry," he murmured, scratching the back of his head, "I woke up too early today. Still kinda sleepy."

A ripple passed through the crowd, audible gasps punctuating the stillness.

Sleepy?

This wasn't just a fight—it was performance. A dance. And now he claimed he did it drowsy?

Kyoraku Shunsui practically leapt off the balcony. "Are you kidding me?!" he shouted, stomping the railing. Then, just as quickly, his tone dropped into a scheming mutter. "No. That settles it. I'm making him wear women's clothes… twice."

Ise Nanao, standing beside him, silently turned away from the absurdity.

Everyone else simply stared—stiff-backed and wide-eyed. No one dared speak.

"This boy… possesses limitless potential," Byakuya Kuchiki murmured, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He once held pride in his Hoho arts, considering them the epitome of refined combat. Yet compared to Su Li's fluid motion, it felt juvenile, crude, as if he'd been wading through mud while this boy danced on clouds. How could one move like that—eyes closed, spiritual pressure sealed, footwork silent, balance flawless? Was it instinct? Kinetic memory? Or something even deeper?

He wasn't a vice-captain anymore.

He was something else entirely.

Even Yamamoto's ancient gaze glimmered faintly. Strength, control, clarity… A true successor, perhaps, for Seireitei's future.

"Vice-Captain Su Li!! Win this!!" Matsumoto Rangiku's voice cut through the stillness. Her face flushed, eyes burning with excitement. "I bet myself on you!!"

The arena shuddered. Her words weren't just support—they were a declaration.

Ichimaru Gin's smile cracked. The corners of his ever-slitted eyes twitched open, and a chill flickered beneath them.

Zaraki Kenpachi raised his blade and pointed it directly at Su Li.

"You're one cocky brat," he said, voice dead flat. Gone was the laughter, the thrill. "Usually I like cocky guys. But you? You don't have my approval."

The words hit like a slap. The audience flinched. Even after all this—after dancing blindfolded against a captain—Kenpachi still wasn't impressed?

Shunsui, ever unbothered, tilted his head. "To be fair, it is a shame the kid's not a girl…"

Kenpachi's gaze burned. "Everyone's impressed with your fancy footwork," he growled. "But not me. You flounced around. You twirled. You danced."

He raised his spiritual pressure like a wave crashing from the sky. "But a real man doesn't dodge. A real man stands tall, face-to-face, takes the damn hit."

The ground trembled beneath the surge. His Reiatsu ignited like wildfire—raw, punishing, suffocating. Shinigami nearby staggered. The younger ones shielded their ears and dropped to a knee. Several passed out where they stood.

"This guy…" Kyoraku muttered, lowering the brim of his hat. "He really is a beast."

Kenpachi's grin returned—feral, bloodthirsty, and all-consuming. "Come on, Su Li. No more dodging. Fight me head-on. Show me your strength. Give me a battle I'll remember."

Su Li's soft smile didn't falter. The test was over.

Over the past month, his grasp of Ultra Instinct had sharpened, its edges refined. He hadn't even used the full intent of it—only its dormant state, the base reflex. He'd fought this entire battle blindfolded, not to entertain, but to test his own limits. Could he move purely on instinct, without sight, without pressure?

He'd found his answer.

"Alright, Captain Kenpachi," Su Li said, voice low but steady. "As you wish."

Kenpachi's roar split the air.

His Reiatsu exploded again, this time like a typhoon wrapped in flame. The sky bent, howled. Even the wind seemed to recoil. He vanished in a blink—no Shunpo, no flair, just brute force speed.

A flash of steel screamed toward Su Li, cleaving the air like a guillotine.

Then—

Ding.

The sound rang out like a bell echoing across an empty plain.

The sword had stopped.

Kenpachi's blade, mid-swing, hovered in the air.

Frozen.

Stuck.

The crowd's breath caught.

Su Li hadn't moved. He still stood in place, calm, unmoved.

His right arm was behind his back.

His left hand was raised.

One finger.

One index finger pressed against the flat of Kenpachi's sword.

It did not move an inch.

Kenpachi's arms shook violently. His muscles strained, his shoulders quivered, and veins bulged across his neck. But the blade stayed still. The force that should have cut mountains was nullified.

Exactly one foot of space stood between the sword's edge and Su Li's forehead.

One foot.

One finger.

That was all it took.

Kenpachi stood paralyzed. Not by fear, but disbelief.

One foot.

One finger.

A blade halted.

A monster stunned.

And a legend, on that silent battlefield, was born.

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