Bleach: In Soul Society, I just want to retire

Yamabuki Ditang spent the entire night in a state of mental turmoil. The thoughts swirling in his mind were relentless. Was he really a Shinigami? Or could he somehow be a Quincy? The questions consumed him, making sleep an impossible endeavor. He tossed and turned, unable to quiet his racing mind. Even when he felt himself slipping into the sweet embrace of slumber, his thoughts dragged him back, trapping him in a restless cycle of doubt and confusion.

Finally, just as his body was on the verge of surrendering to exhaustion, the door to his room burst open with an explosive force.

Bang!

The sound jolted Yamabuki Ditang to full alertness. His instincts kicked in immediately—he grabbed his Zanpakutō and turned to face the intruder. His sword gleamed in the faint light as he prepared to defend himself. But as his vision adjusted, he realized the figure standing in the doorway wasn't an enemy.

It was Yamamoto.

"Well!" the old man said, nodding with approval. "You're quite alert, I see. You didn't let your guard down just because you're in a comfortable environment."

Despite his words of praise, Yamamoto's expression was tinged with curiosity. Something about Yamabuki seemed... off. The young man's spiritual pressure was different—it had grown stronger.

"Strange," Yamamoto thought, narrowing his eyes. "This boy's spiritual pressure increased overnight. How is that possible?"

Yamamoto was no stranger to the intricacies of spiritual energy. For a Shinigami, raising spiritual pressure was no small feat. It required dedication, effort, and time. If it were easy, Soul Society would be filled with captains.

There were only a handful of ways to increase spiritual pressure, none of which were particularly quick or simple. Rest, proper nourishment, rigorous combat training, and deep communion with one's Zanpakutō could all lead to gradual improvement. But even the most talented Shinigami had limits. Once those limits were reached, they couldn't be surpassed without extraordinary means—breaking the boundaries of what it meant to be a Shinigami altogether. The infamous Aizen was a prime example of someone who had done just that.

And yet, here was Yamabuki Ditang, whose spiritual pressure had noticeably increased overnight. Yamamoto had never seen anything like it.

"Could it be... that this boy isn't what he seems?" Yamamoto wondered, his gaze sharp as he observed Yamabuki. "Is there more to him than meets the eye?"

Yamabuki, sensing the weight of Yamamoto's stare, felt a shiver run down his spine. A lump formed in his throat. "Did... did he figure it out? Does he know I might be a Quincy?"

Before Yamabuki could dwell on his growing paranoia, Yamamoto's voice broke through his thoughts.

"What time do you think it is? And you're still lying in bed? Get up! You're training with me!"

Though Yamamoto was deeply curious about the boy's growth, he didn't let it show. After all, the world was full of geniuses who had been undone by their own arrogance. It wouldn't do to let Yamabuki get complacent.

Meanwhile, Yamabuki's mind continued racing. If he truly were a Quincy, why had the system given him a Zanpakutō? That didn't add up.

What Yamabuki didn't realize was that the spiritual particle density in Soul Society was far greater than that of the human world. Simply existing here caused a Shinigami's spiritual pressure to increase over time. This natural growth wasn't infinite, of course—every Shinigami had a ceiling, a limit to how much they could grow.

But Yamabuki was different. His unique trait as the "Child of Destiny" allowed for infinite potential. He absorbed spiritual particles continuously, which explained why his spiritual pressure had grown so much in such a short span of time.

Still half-asleep, Yamabuki yawned as he followed Yamamoto to the martial arts training ground behind the compound. The sun had barely risen, and the air was crisp. They were the only two people at the training ground.

As they reached the center of the yard, Yamabuki began to speculate. "What's he going to teach me? Swordsmanship? Flash Step? Kidō? Maybe even Byakuda? Or perhaps he'll share some secret technique for increasing spiritual pressure?"

But before Yamabuki could entertain his daydreams any further, he noticed a wicked grin spreading across Yamamoto's face.

"You look like you didn't sleep well last night," Yamamoto said, his tone almost mocking. "Don't worry. If you can't handle the training I have planned, you'll sleep soundly afterward... and never wake up!"

Yamabuki's drowsiness vanished in an instant. His blood ran cold. "Wait, wait, wait!" he stammered. "What are you planning to do? Why are you saying things like that?!"

Yamamoto responded by drawing his Zanpakutō, the blade gleaming as a terrifying wave of spiritual pressure radiated from him.

"Today's lesson is simple," Yamamoto declared. "Learn how to survive against a strong opponent. Remember this well: All things in the universe turn to ashes."

Yamabuki's eyes widened in horror. "No way! He's serious?! Captain, give me a moment to prepare—"

"Take it!!!"

"YAMAMOTO-OSSAN!!!"

A deafening explosion followed as Yamamoto unleashed his power, reducing the training ground to a charred battlefield.

By the time breakfast rolled around, Yamabuki Ditang was a pitiful sight. His entire body was covered in soot, his hair stood on end, and he moved with the stiff, slow gait of a zombie.

Shifengyuan Chihiro couldn't help but burst into laughter when she saw him.

"You... you look like you've been through hell!" she managed between fits of giggles.

Yamabuki glared at her weakly, but even his glare lacked bite. "It's not funny..." he muttered, coughing up a puff of black smoke. "I... I almost died, you know!"

Inside, he was screaming. "I'm still a teenager! Do you have any idea how traumatizing it is for a kid my age to have a gigantic fire blade swung at their head?!"

Despite his complaints, Yamamoto had held back significantly during their sparring session. If he'd been serious, Yamabuki wouldn't have survived long enough to complain.

As Yamabuki picked at his food, Yamamoto addressed him casually. "Eat quickly. We've got work to do after breakfast. Someone reported a Hollow sighting in Rukongai. You're going to investigate."

"Alone?" Yamabuki asked, incredulous.

"Of course. We're short on manpower."

Yamabuki sighed heavily. He couldn't help but wonder if joining the Gotei 13 had been a mistake.

After finishing his meal, Yamabuki grabbed his Zanpakutō and made his way to Rukongai. The sprawling region was divided into four main areas, each split further into eighty districts. The reported Hollow sighting was near Mt. Koifu, located in the northern part of the West Third District.

Unlike the more distant districts, the West Third was relatively close to Soul Society's center, making it somewhat more secure. Even so, the oppressive silence that greeted Yamabuki when he arrived was unsettling. Every house was shut tight, and the streets were eerily empty.

Knocking on one door, Yamabuki was met by an elderly woman who cracked it open just enough to peer out nervously.

"Who... who are you?" she asked, eyeing his Zanpakutō warily.

"I'm with the Gotei 13," Yamabuki said gently. "I'm here to deal with the Hollow causing trouble."

"Gotei 13?" The old woman frowned. "Never heard of it." She quickly shut the door, leaving Yamabuki standing there in confusion.

This pattern repeated as he went door to door. Most residents were either too frightened or too distrustful to speak with him.

Just as Yamabuki was beginning to lose hope, a small, barefoot child approached him hesitantly.

"Excuse me... are you a noble?" the boy asked timidly.

Yamabuki crouched down to the child's level, smiling softly. "No, I'm not a noble. I'm a Shinigami from the Gotei 13. I'm here to kill the Hollow."

The boy's eyes lit up. "Really? Then... can you help me? The Hollow took my sister Hanako. Please save her! I'll give you all the money I have!"

Yamabuki's heart ached as he saw the desperation in the child's eyes. Tightening his grip on his sword, he replied firmly: "Don't worry. I'll bring her back."

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