Bleach: In Soul Society, I just want to retire

The sword flashed! Saito's pupils shrank, and she quickly tilted her head to avoid it, but the blade still left a scar on her face, and blood flowed down her cheek. The pain was sharp, and the blood dripping onto the ground seemed to amplify the tension in the air.

Saito's expression instantly turned ferocious. With a roar, she grabbed Yamabuki Ditang's wrist and raised her blade to strike him down. Her movements were quick and fueled by anger, her intent clear—to end this fight once and for all.

Yamabuki Ditang hadn't anticipated that his opponent could recover so swiftly. He was caught off guard, and in an instant, his hand was tightly gripped. The pressure on his wrist was unbearable, and he found himself unable to break free. His eyes widened in realization—he couldn't escape!

The blade was just about to descend when suddenly, a large hand clamped tightly around Saito's wrist. The force of the grip was so strong that Saito froze mid-strike, her entire arm trembling under the pressure. She struggled, but it was no use. Her wrist was locked as if by an iron clamp. No matter how much she strained, she couldn't move an inch.

In horror, Saito turned her head to see the one holding her wrist. Her eyes widened even further when she saw that it was none other than Yamamoto Shigekuni.

"What do you mean by this?!" Saito screamed, her voice laced with both fear and rage.

Yamamoto's expression remained calm as he spoke. "You lose. This incense stick has burned out."

Saito's gaze darted to the incense stick in Yamamoto's other hand. Sure enough, the stick was nothing more than a pile of ashes. Her voice cracked as she shouted, "So what? I don't care about the incense! I'm going to kill him!"

Yamamoto's eyes narrowed, and his voice grew cold. "Accept your defeat. Or do you intend to deny it?"

The atmosphere shifted dramatically. In the next instant, Yamamoto released a spiritual pressure so intense it felt like a volcanic eruption. The raw power of his reiatsu exploded outward, its sheer force spreading across the entire venue like a shockwave.

Saito's manic expression vanished in an instant, replaced by pure terror. Her hand, which had been gripping her blade so tightly moments ago, began to tremble uncontrollably. The knife slipped slightly from her grasp, as if even the thought of holding it in Yamamoto's presence was unbearable.

It wasn't just Saito who felt the crushing weight of Yamamoto's spiritual pressure. Shihouin Chihiro, who had been watching the fight from a distance with an amused smirk, now found himself frozen in place. His entire body trembled as he muttered under his breath, "I knew he was strong... but this is something else entirely."

Saito's voice wavered as she tried to steady her breathing. "Who... who are you?"

"My name is Yamamoto Shigekuni," the older man said, his voice calm yet commanding. "And I am also known as the Sword Demon."

The words carried such weight that even the spectators who overheard them felt a chill run down their spines. Yamamoto's presence alone was enough to make anyone reconsider their actions. He turned his gaze to Yamabuki Ditang and offered him a small nod. "You did well, Yamabuki. You are worthy of being my deputy."

Yamabuki Ditang, who had been moments away from a grim fate, stared at his captain with a mixture of relief and exasperation. His thoughts screamed, You're too kind, Captain, but next time, can we maybe discuss these things beforehand? I was almost made into this woman's slave!

The four of them soon returned to the main hall. Shihouin Chihiro, ever the gracious host, ordered his servants to prepare another table of food. The aroma of freshly cooked dishes filled the air, but the tension from the earlier battle still lingered.

"What exactly does the Gotei 13 do?" Saito asked, breaking the silence.

Yamamoto leaned back slightly in his seat and replied, "We are an organization of assassins. Our targets include Hollows and rogue Shinigami who bring chaos to the Soul Society. In short, we use violent means to suppress this chaotic era. And one day, we will stand at the very top."

Saito's eyes gleamed with interest. "That sounds fun! As long as we get to cut things, I'm in!"

Yamamoto raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "That's one way to look at it."

Just like that, the number of members in the Gotei 13 doubled in a single afternoon—from two to four. However, they still lacked a proper base of operations. Shihouin Chihiro, ever the opportunist, grinned and said, "Why not use the Shihouin estate as your temporary headquarters? My family has more than enough resources to accommodate all of you."

Yamamoto considered the offer briefly before nodding. "Very well. We'll take you up on your generosity."

As they prepared to leave the dining hall, Yamamoto grabbed Yamabuki Ditang by the arm. "Let's go. There's much to discuss."

"Wait a minute!" Yamabuki protested, his stomach growling audibly. "I haven't even eaten yet!"

But his words fell on deaf ears. Yamamoto dragged him away, leaving behind a table full of delicacies that Yamabuki could only stare at longingly. Tears of regret welled up in his eyes. If I'd known this would happen, I wouldn't have eaten that sweet potato earlier!

Once they arrived at their new quarters, Yamamoto turned to Yamabuki with a rare smirk. "Do you regret eating that sweet potato now? This is an important lesson—never trade your future for small, temporary gains. Remember this well."

Yamabuki blinked, realizing the "lesson" had been deliberate. As expected of Yamamoto, the founder of the Central Spiritual Arts Academy. Even his pranks are educational!

Yamamoto's tone grew serious. "I've seen your potential, Yamabuki. You're more talented than you realize—perhaps even more so than I was at your age. But raw talent means nothing if left untapped. Starting tomorrow, I'll begin your training. I'll shape you into a true Shinigami, capable of standing on your own in this turbulent world."

Yamabuki nodded solemnly. He knew Yamamoto's words were not just empty encouragement. The Soul Society was on the brink of a great war—a war that would determine its very survival. The Quincies were coming.

As Yamamoto left the room, Yamabuki sat by the window, gazing at his Zanpakutō in the moonlight. The blade was unassuming, its surface polished but otherwise plain. What secrets do you hold? he wondered.

He lay down on the bed, exhaustion washing over him. For the first time since arriving in the Soul Society, he felt safe enough to close his eyes without fear of an ambush. The Shihouin family's wealth ensured that even their guest rooms were luxurious. The bed was soft, the air was fragrant, and Yamabuki's tired body welcomed the comfort.

But as he began to drift off, a strange sensation jolted him awake. The air around him felt... alive. Spirit particles swirled invisibly, drawn toward him like moths to a flame. Yamabuki sat up abruptly, his heart pounding.

What's happening to me? he thought, panic rising in his chest.

Shinigami weren't supposed to have the ability to control spirit particles—that was the specialty of the Quincy. Yet his body was undeniably absorbing the ambient reishi in the air. The sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying.

His thoughts raced. The Shinigami valued spiritual pressure above all else, but the Quincy operated on entirely different principles. They relied on the environment, bending the very fabric of the world to their will.

A chilling possibility crossed Yamabuki's mind. Could it be... I'm not a Shinigami at all? Am I a Quincy?

The idea sent a shiver down his spine. While the Soul Society was flawed, it still treated its soldiers with some semblance of respect. The Quincy, on the other hand, were a different story entirely. Their leader, Yhwach, was a tyrant who didn't hesitate to kill his own subordinates. In the end, the person who inflicted the most damage on the Quincy was Yhwach himself!

Do I even dare to work for someone like that?

As Yamabuki grappled with his identity, one thing became clear—his journey was far from over.

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