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With the basic plan in place, Matsushita Yusuke allowed himself exactly zero ti to relax.
His opponent in half a month was a captain. Everything had to be working at full capacity.
First item: apply to the Academy for a leave of absence. The process went through without friction, which told him the Gotei 13 had started doing its part behind the scenes.
With the leave approved, he moved out to the area near Squad 2 and settled in.
Yoruichi, who had been briefed on the whole situation, had been characteristically straightforward about it: she would cover his room and board, and offer whatever other support was useful.
That solved a real problem.
Aizen's reach as vice-captain had limits when it ca to arranging sparring partners quickly. Having a major noble house providing backing was a different category of resource entirely.
Matsushita Yusuke set a pace of two to three training sessions per day against Squad mbers with Elental-type Zanpakuto and kept it up.
Soifon, unusually, did not seek him out to add anything to his workload. She didn't even send him on errands.
"Co back and clean after your fight. You're scrubbing every toilet in the compound for a year."
She was genuinely incapable of phrasing anything nicely.
On the tenth day of training, Matsushita Yusuke unlocked the release.
[Elental: 30]
He tried it imdiately, and the expression that ford on his face was specific in a way that was hard to categorize.
"Oh, co on."
The Zanpakuto shifted slightly in his grip.
A bright flicker of fla appeared, vivid for a mont, and then faded and went out like a brief spark.
The Elental release was active.
And it was fire.
He didn't have a problem with fire on its own rits. But in the current context of Soul Society, Yamamoto's Ryujin Jakka existed. In all of history, no fire-based ability had co within any reasonable distance of that one.
He was on Aizen's side of things. At so point, a confrontation with Yamamoto was sowhere on the road ahead.
The ntal image that produced was a very old man looking at his fire Zanpakuto, then looking at Yusuke's, and laughing in a way that showed teeth. Very flattering. Very encouraging.
He gripped the blade and worked through the chanics and ability more carefully.
His brow went up.
The expression that followed was genuinely interested.
"This ability..."
It operated on completely different principles from Yamamoto's.
And if he read it right, it had potential that could actually hold its own in that comparison. That was his own assessnt and nothing more. But it was not a dismissible thought.
Interesting.
And against Kijishi specifically: this was exactly the right tool for the job.
anwhile, inside the Squad 11 compound.
Kijishi's roar rolled through the building and out into the courtyard like a thunderclap from clear sky, carrying enough of sothing unhinged to make everyone within range go very still.
"Where's the drink?! Get a drink! Now!"
A jar hit the ground. The alcohol inside it scattered in every direction. A piece of the broken container caught one of the nearby squad mbers across the corner of his eye. Blood ran down his face in a slow red line.
He did not make a sound. The pain was real. But making noise would pull Kijishi's attention, and that was considerably worse than the eye.
In the wide, dark training hall, Kijishi swayed slightly, already deep into a jar's worth of sothing, and raised his left hand. He pointed at three people in sequence.
"You. You. And you. The three of you. Co with . We're training."
The specific quality of that selection was the sa as a death sentence being handed down.
The three who had been chosen went pale. One of them found his voice.
"Captain! Captain, please, I resign, I'm done, I'm out, I'm--"
Kijishi's hand ca across before the sentence finished and closed around the man's head, all of it, fingers wrapping around the skull like it was sothing small.
He was built the way very few people were built, and next to him the average Squad mber had always looked undersized. That quality made itself felt now.
"You think this is funny? You eat well, live well, throw your weight around, all because of . And now you want to walk away?"
A sound. Sharp and final.
The head gave way. What ca afterward was sothing that landed on everyone nearby.
The training hall, already dark, beca sothing colder.
Squad 11's particular nature was sothing it shared with its mbers in both directions. The people Kijishi had recruited were the sa type he was: rough products of the outer Rukongai, people who understood what it ant to operate by the law of who was strongest. They had understood each other perfectly.
That kind of mutual understanding had its limits.
"We'll go! We're with you, Captain!"
"Then move."
Kijishi swept a cold look around the room.
The remaining number was reduced. Still enough.
Enough to carry him through the preparation he needed for what was coming.
He did not want to die. He did not want to lose. He had been certain his situation was finished until the news ca through that the student had accepted the rematch.
That changed things to sothing simple.
Win the fight in five days. Take back everything that was his. Squad 11 would stay his.
His breathing had gone heavy. Sothing in his outline felt like it was expanding, slowly, away from the proportions that a person normally occupied. Like whatever was underneath was gradually making itself visible.
"Ah!"
Screams ca from inside the Squad 11 compound at intervals, regular enough that the neighbors who had stayed through everything else finally started looking for other arrangents.
Both sides had reasons they could not lose.
Five days passed.
The morning of the fight arrived.
Soifon was already awake before the sun.
She was up and moving through the corridor at a run, light-footed, wearing loose sleeveless training clothes that made her look like sothing dark and quick.
The sliding door ca open.
"Up! Now!"
Matsushita Yusuke extracted his head from under the covers with the expression of soone who genuinely did not know what ti it was.
"Today matters. Several captains will be there. You have to look like you take this seriously."
Soifon ca across the room, pulled the covers back entirely, pushed him upright by the shoulder, and began working on his hair.
"Presentation is part of it. Also: you went to sleep early last night, didn't you? Eight hours is the right amount. Any more and you'll feel it."
Accurate. Reasonable. Hard to argue with.
Matsushita Yusuke yawned and got to his feet.
Soifon ca around to face him. Both hands ca up. She closed them around his cheeks and pressed inward, shaping his mouth into a slightly distorted shape that was approximately a circle.
She looked at him steadily.
"How are you feeling? Ready?"
He blinked at her. Behind her, the door stood open. The first light of the morning was coming in, the deep blue of early dawn fading slowly into sothing lighter.
He put on his usual expression.
"I'm going to win."
Soifon's lips moved without quite forming words. Her chin dropped. A small sound ca out that was sowhere between a laugh and sothing she hadn't decided to let through.
"Good."
Her hands slid down from his face and settled on his shoulders. Her head tilted forward slightly, as if drawn toward sothing, the kind of motion that starts before the person decides to make it.
Then it stopped. She turned her head to one side.
No smile shown. The gesture left unfinished. That was her particular version of softness: letting sothing reach the surface just far enough to be visible, then pulling back before it beca anything that required acknowledgnt.
Matsushita Yusuke was entirely receptive to this.
Very good. Much appreciated.
"Also: could you knock next ti? And don't pull soone's covers off without warning. That's not how people behave."
"What do you need privacy for? Get dressed. I picked this outfit for you last night. It took a while."
"You know, sotis the way you talk to people is genuinely unkind."
Brief back and forth. Ordinary morning energy.
And by the end of it, Matsushita Yusuke's state of mind had settled exactly where it needed to be.
Right now.
He was ready to fight at 120%.
****
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