A month later...
Kuchiki Household,
Training Grounds..
The Kuchiki Household was rather lively. Marriage between a direct descendants was always a cause for joy in the clan. Incest meant very little and was by no means a sinful act per beurocratic and diplomatic standards. Rather, the clans saw it as a way to preserve their culture and family bloodline, to keep it as a pure as possible.
Direct clan descendants were born with an aptitude for spiritual energy that was far greater than any ordinary soul. Meaning their natural affinity for Reiatsu was greater and they often grew into powerful Shinigami. Naturally, every clan would want to protect such incredible heritage.
The noise from the clans main hall permeated everywhere, however, the training ground was silent. Hidden deep in the clan. A figure sat silently on his knees, sword resting by his side. A young handsome figure, dressed in a straight high collared all black elegant training robes. White kogai (fingerless white gauntlets) wrapped around his wrist and hands, a sign of nobility and elegance...
His long dark hair flowed behind him like a waterfall. A small gust of wind blew strands upwards. And then the young man opened his eyes, revealing beautiful dark gray irises. A cold breath escaped his lips. The room was silent, peaceful. He grabbed the blade at his side, and sent it a glance..
"I heard what happened, grandfather.." His voice was a cool, calm and deep, a little whispery in tone. His eyes closed once more as the shadow of a man walked into the training grounds.
"Heard what exactly, Byakuya?" The man's cold stern voice resounded with an airy tone. He walked out into the open. Long gray hair, a pure white Captain's robe with the number 5 written boldly in kanji at the back. Pure white and elegant kogi wrapped around his fingers, on his folded arms.
The young man known as Byakuya lifted his head towards his grandfather, confident, with a tinge of defiance. "The criminal who had been apprehended and acquitted by Central 46...." The young man spoke but the man kept his stare on his face. "What about it?" He asked.
Byakuya's words hung in the air like frost, his gaze unyielding.
"I heard how Shinigami of Captain caliber were unable to stop him."
His grandfather's eyes narrowed, the weight of his presence pressing onto the boy like a silent avalanche.
"And so? You doubt the Captains of the Gotei 13?" His tone was deceptively calm, though sharp enough to cut.
Byakuya rose to his feet, his blade still resting in its sheath at his hip. His dark gray eyes were steady, unshaken. "If those who are entrusted with the protection of Soul Society cannot contain one man… then what value is there in their authority? What does it say about their competence?"
The silence deepened. The wind outside the walls of the training ground seemed to die.
The older Kuchiki stepped forward, his folded arms loosening, his cold gaze bearing down upon his grandson.
"Arrogance." His voice was stern, unflinching. "You speak with the confidence of a man who has seen centuries of war, yet you are but a child." He straightened his back, his white Captain's robe shifting like the flowing wings of a crane. "The Gotei 13 is the shield of Soul Society. Those men and women have given their lives countless times. For you to question their worth with such ignorance… is disgraceful to this clan."
Byakuya's lips pressed into a thin line, but his silence was not submission. His fingers brushed against the hilt of his sword, and his voice came once more calm, but edged.
"If they are truly the shield of Soul Society, then they should not falter. If a criminal can defy them… then perhaps the shield is rusting."
The words struck like steel. His grandfather's gaze sharpened into a blade of its own.
"You overstep yourself, boy." The elder's spiritual pressure swelled, a cold storm rushing through the training ground, stirring Byakuya's hair and robes violently. His voice thundered, ancient and commanding. "You are heir to the Kuchiki Clan. Your words carry weight. And yet, you spit them without wisdom, without reverence. If you dare to speak like a warrior… then you shall prove it as one."
Byakuya's eyes widened slightly, but the flicker of surprise quickly gave way to resolve. Slowly, he drew his blade, a rectangular hilted katana the whisper of steel ringing through the silent grounds. "If that is your will, Grandfather…" His voice steadied, calm and unyielding. "…then I shall not back down."
The elder Kuchiki finally unfolded his arms. He did not even draw his Zanpakutō. Instead, his hand rested on the hilt, testing.
"Come then, Byakuya. Show me if you can speak as boldly with your sword as you do with your tongue."
Byakuya exhaled once, cold and sharp, his gray eyes locking with the stormy gaze of his grandfather. He sank into a stance, sword angled before him. Reiatsu leaked from him in controlled waves, the ground beneath his sandals beginning to crack.
The elder simply stood there, calm, immovable, his own pressure a vast ocean that seemed to dwarf Byakuya's growing tide.
And then...
Byakuya vanished. A blur of black silk and steel streaked forward, his blade cutting through the air with precision. The clash of steel and spirit was about to begin.
The silence shattered as Byakuya's blade met his grandfather's in a ringing crash of steel. Sparks leapt between them, the pressure of their Reiatsu colliding in a violent burst that shook the training ground.
The old man's expression did not change, stern, composed, as he parried his grandson's strike with a single, effortless motion. "Too direct," he muttered, his voice cutting through the clash as sharp as his blade. He twisted his wrist, redirecting Byakuya's momentum, and sent him sliding back across the polished stone floor.
But Byakuya did not stumble. He spun, his robes sweeping the ground, and launched forward again with blistering speed. Each strike came faster than the last, precise, elegant, merciless. The clash of steel echoed, a staccato rhythm of defiance.
The elder met every swing with calm economy, his blade a wall of inevitability. "You rely too much on speed," he said, his voice never wavering even as the sparks flew between them. Another strike. Another effortless deflection. "A sword is not a tool for pride, Byakuya. It is a vessel of duty."
Byakuya's gray eyes burned. "And if the vessels of duty are cracked, who then will uphold Soul Society?" His words came with another flurry, his blade a streak of silver light.
The old man's counter cut the air just an inch from Byakuya's face, halting him. "Reckless words from a boy who has yet to understand the weight of a thousand years of war." He pressed forward, the force of his Reiatsu flooding the ground, cracks webbing outward as the young Kuchiki struggled to hold his stance.
But instead of faltering, Byakuya pushed back. His breathing slowed, his blade lowered slightly. His lips parted.
"BANKAI..."
The word fell like a stone into the still water of the training ground. The elder Kuchiki's eyes widened, for the first time breaking their composure.
In an instant, the ground around Byakuya bloomed with thousands of glimmering pink petals. Swords shattered into countless fragments, rising into the air like a storm of sakura blossoms. The air itself seemed to hum with beauty and lethality.
"SENBONZAKURA KAGEYOSHI."
The training ground transformed into a sea of deathly petals, each one glistening with killing intent, surrounding the old man in a sphere of inevitability. For a long moment, there was only silence, save for the faint whisper of blades drifting on the air.
The old Kuchiki finally let his arms fall to his sides, his stern expression softening into something rare, a flicker of acknowledgment. "So… this is the source of your arrogance."
Byakuya's eyes met his, unflinching, but quiet now. The blossoms glowed around him, poised for command.
His grandfather gave a slow nod. "To have attained Bankai at such a young age… it is both a triumph and a burden. No wonder you question even the Captains of the Gotei 13. You believe you have surpassed them already." His tone was not mocking, it was heavy, lined with experience.
He turned his gaze over the endless petals, then back to Byakuya. "But listen well, boy. Bankai is not the end. It is the beginning. This power you wield is raw, incomplete. Without mastery, it is nothing but arrogance dressed as strength."
Byakuya lowered his blade slightly, the blossoms swaying, his chest rising with quiet breath.
His grandfather's voice hardened once more, though pride flickered beneath the sternness. "Hone it. Refine it. Grow stronger than even this display of brilliance. For it is your generation that must protect Soul Society. Ours… has already failed."
The petals slowly dissipated, fading back into nothingness as Byakuya sheathed his blade. The silence that followed was not the cold emptiness from before, but the stillness of recognition.
Byakuya bowed his head slightly, his voice quiet but steady.
"…I will."
The old man studied him for a long moment, then turned away, his Captain's haori billowing as he stepped toward the exit. "Then prove it, Byakuya Kuchiki. Not to me. Not even to this clan. But to Soul Society itself."
And with that, the storm of petals was gone, leaving only the quiet training ground, and a young man whose eyes now burned with a sharper purpose.
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