Bleach: In Soul Society, I just want to retire

Back in his room, Yamabuki Ditang sat cross-legged on the floor, his Zanpakutō resting across his lap. With deliberate care, he ran a cloth along the blade, polishing it gently. The events of the recent battle replayed in his mind, each moment sharpening his understanding of his weapon.

During the fight, the power of his Zanpakutō had finally awakened, and though the experience was brief, it had been enough to save his life.

"But what exactly is the ability of my Zanpakutō?" Yamabuki muttered, frowning as he examined the gleaming weapon.

His sword spirit had singlehandedly dismantled the Adjuchas in mere seconds, reducing the towering Hollow to a pile of dismembered parts. At first glance, it seemed like his Shikai ability might be related to speed. Perhaps his Zanpakutō enhanced his movements, allowing for blindingly fast attacks?

"Or…" Yamabuki said aloud, his tone shifting to one of mock drama, "maybe my ability is tied to my shame level. The more cringe-worthy and over-the-top I act, the stronger my attacks become!"

The thought made him chuckle. "If that's the case… it's kind of awesome, actually!"

He leaped to his feet, twirling his Zanpakutō in one hand like a conductor's baton. With his free hand, he raised an imaginary cape, draping it over his shoulder.

"I am the Dark Lord! Tremble before my power, mortals! You are all my servants, and your doom is nigh! Hahaha!"

He struck a dramatic pose, pointing his blade at an invisible foe. His booming laughter echoed through the room, reaching new heights of absurdity.

For a moment, Yamabuki felt truly unstoppable. And, if he was honest, a little ridiculous.

The Zanpakutō in his hands pulsed faintly, emitting a soft glow. It was almost as if the weapon were sighing in exasperation.

Deep within its spirit, the sword thought, Why do I have such an unreliable master? Maybe I should just run away from home.

Yamabuki's theatrical musings were interrupted by a timid voice at the door.

"Um… Brother Yamabuki, can I… can I stay with you for now?"

Yamabuki turned to see Quebo Chōjirō standing hesitantly in the doorway, clutching the hem of his worn shirt.

"Of course!" Yamabuki said, grinning. "Welcome, my little errand boy—uh, I mean, my new roommate!"

Chōjirō stepped inside, looking slightly embarrassed. The boy was around twelve or thirteen, his thin frame accentuated by his ragged clothes. He was even barefoot, his feet calloused from wandering the harsh streets of Rukongai.

Yamabuki frowned. "We can't have you looking like this," he said, gesturing to Chōjirō's tattered outfit. "Clothes make the man, after all. We'll get you some proper robes and maybe even a pair of shoes. Can't have you embarrassing the Gotei 13."

Chōjirō blinked in confusion. "Proper robes?"

Yamabuki nodded sagely. "Of course. First impressions matter, kid. But listen—if you really want to stay with the Gotei 13, you've got to know what's most important."

"What's that?" Chōjirō asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"Fighting!" Yamabuki declared, striking another dramatic pose. "If you can't hold your own in a fight, you'll never survive. Forget cooking and cleaning—we've got servants from the Shihōin family for that stuff. Starting tomorrow, I'll have old man Yamamoto teach you swordsmanship. That'll be your first step."

Chōjirō's jaw dropped. "Wait… Captain Yamamoto is going to train me?!"

"Sure," Yamabuki said nonchalantly. "He doesn't have much going on anyway."

The next morning, Yamabuki grabbed the half-asleep Chōjirō by the collar and dragged him to the training grounds. The boy's head lolled to the side, a large snot bubble inflating and deflating with each breath.

Yamamoto stood waiting, his arms crossed as he observed the duo approach. His sharp eyes immediately noted Yamabuki's improved spiritual pressure.

"Incredible," Yamamoto thought, his brow furrowing. "This boy's spiritual energy has doubled since his last mission. What on earth did he go through?"

But then Yamamoto's gaze shifted to Chōjirō, who was now snoring loudly, the snot bubble bursting with a pop.

Yamamoto's expression darkened. "And who's this…?"

Before Yamamoto could speak, Yamabuki delivered a sharp chop to Chōjirō's head.

"Wake up, kid!" Yamabuki barked.

"Ow! That hurt!" Chōjirō whined, rubbing his head as he scrambled to sit upright.

"Pay attention!" Yamabuki snapped. "This is serious business!"

Yamamoto sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This kid's hopeless," he muttered under his breath.

"Yamabuki," Yamamoto said, turning his attention back to his vice-captain, "what do you want to learn today?"

"Captain," Yamabuki replied, his tone uncharacteristically serious, "after my battle with the Adjuchas, I realized that I'm severely lacking in certain areas. I want to learn ghost techniques to make up for my weaknesses."

Yamamoto's eyes softened slightly. "Good. Recognizing your flaws and seeking to improve is the mark of a true warrior. Follow me."

The three of them—Yamamoto, Yamabuki, and Chōjirō—headed to the Shihōin family's training grounds, where they were greeted by Shihōin Chihiro.

"You're here to practice ghost arts?" Chihiro asked with a smile. "Don't worry about the surroundings—the barrier here is strong enough to withstand anything."

Yamamoto nodded. "Then let's begin."

He turned to Yamabuki. "Watch carefully. I'll demonstrate a basic Hadō technique."

Raising his hand, Yamamoto aimed at a distant target and spoke with commanding authority:

"Hado No. 88: Hiryū Gekizoku Shinten Raihō!"

A brilliant golden-blue beam of energy erupted from his palm, roaring like thunder as it streaked across the training ground. The sheer force of the attack created a powerful shockwave, forcing everyone present to shield their eyes.

The beam struck its target with devastating precision, detonating in a massive explosion that sent a gust of wind rushing through the area.

Chōjirō screamed, clutching his chest. "I… I can't breathe!"

Yamabuki stepped in front of the boy, using his own spiritual pressure to shield him from Yamamoto's overwhelming aura.

After a few moments, the air settled, and Yamamoto turned to Yamabuki expectantly.

"Well? Did you learn it?"

Yamabuki's jaw hung open. "Captain… you call that basic?"

"Yes," Yamamoto said matter-of-factly. "It's a foundational technique. Now try it yourself."

Yamabuki swallowed nervously. He raised his hands, mimicking Yamamoto's stance. "Alright… here goes nothing."

He gathered his spiritual energy, channeling it into his palms. "Hado No. 88: Hiryū Gekizoku Shinten Raihō!"

A golden-blue beam of light shot from his hands. It wasn't as massive or destructive as Yamamoto's, but it was still an impressive display of power.

Yamabuki stared at his hands in disbelief. "Wait… I actually did it?!"

Yamamoto allowed himself a small smile. "Not bad for your first attempt. But you still have much to learn."

Yamabuki grinned. "Looks like I'm a natural after all."

Chōjirō, still shaking from the earlier shockwave, whispered, "Big brother Yamabuki is amazing…"

Yamabuki's chest swelled with pride. "Don't worry, kid. Stick with me, and you'll be amazing too."

.

.

.

.

.

.

Go to my Patreon Account to read up to 30 Advance Chapters

patreon.com/Izanami_no_Mikoto