She'd never told her father how much she hated that name, not once in all the years she'd been at home, before she'd been accepted into the Correction Corps and had gone to live in Soul Society.
It had once belonged to her mother, but that was before she'd died. Killed in battle, cut down by a Hollow as if she was no more than a flower snapped in the wind. As much as she hated to think that about her mother, the woman had been weak. Weak, like her brothers before her had been.
Weakness, her sensei had told her, was unforgiveable. So it was with some relief that shortly after being taken into the Second Division she had abandoned that name for Soi Fong. Her grandmother, a woman who'd been given a hero's burial, one of the few great women in the Correction Corps history, who'd lived to fight for many years even after having a family of her own. Soi had hoped that the name's good luck would wear off on her.
To all her so-called companions at the Academy, she was Soi Fong.
To her very impressed and delighted instructors she was Soi Fong.
To the men she'd outfought on her own, despite the handicap of her small size, she was Soi Fong.
And yet when her Goddess had said 'Shaolin,' in barely a whisper as she lay over her, those topaz eyes fogged over with passion and infinitely more, that abhorred name suddenly became the most beautiful sound in the world.