"How could it be that simple? Do you even understand what Bankai is?"
"Out of the countless Shinigami across each generation, only a select few ever attain Bankai. Those who do, regardless of rank, have their names forever etched into the annals of Soul Society."
"The materialization of a Zanpakutō spirit is only the beginning—a mere threshold to enter the long, grueling path toward Bankai. To equate that to mastery is to insult centuries of sacrifice and discipline. Don't speak of Bankai so lightly."
Byakuya Kuchiki scoffed, voice cool as ever, but he couldn't completely conceal the flicker of disbelief in his eyes.
Because yesterday, he had personally witnessed the impossible—Akira forging his Zanpakutō from scratch and attaining Shikai without ever needing to release the sealed state first.
"Byakuya, you're being too rigid."
Shiba Isshin shook his head with a sigh.
"Senior Isshin, do you believe he can master Bankai?" Byakuya retorted sharply, eyebrows narrowing.
"Whether or not he can doesn't matter," Isshin answered. "I only know this—I've never heard of, let alone seen, a Shinigami practicing Jinzen for the first time, only for their Zanpakutō spirit to forcefully materialize on its own… and then immediately drag the Shinigami into their inner world without hesitation."
"In all the documented history I've studied, that has never happened."
Isshin's tone turned serious as he met Byakuya's gaze.
"…"
Byakuya opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He wasn't so arrogant as to argue when he knew Isshin was right.
Despite his youth, he wasn't lacking in education. As the heir of the Kuchiki Clan, his knowledge far surpassed that of most Shinigami his age.
And he understood—Isshin was telling the truth.
He didn't need to look far for proof; he need only think of himself.
Even after attaining Shikai, his communion with Senbonzakura was infrequent. Despite countless meditations, the number of times he'd entered his inner world and spoken to his Zanpakutō spirit could be counted on one hand.
To see a Zanpakutō spirit behave the way Akira's had—manifesting instantly, showing devotion, even pulling its wielder into the inner world like an eager companion—was unprecedented.
Forget submission; if the physical manifestation alone wasn't shocking enough, the spirit's reverent behavior made it look less like a partner and more like a devoted servant.
Byakuya's eyes flicked between Akira and the crimson-scaled Zanpakutō spirit beside him. He couldn't help but wonder:
We both know Shikai… so why is your Zanpakutō acting like a lovesick puppy?
Suddenly, in Akira's mind, a system message appeared:
[Your Zanpakutō was overjoyed upon sensing your intent to meet. In preparation, he tidied the inner world and is now inviting you to visit for a heart-to-heart talk.]
While the rest of the class still reeled from witnessing the Zanpakutō's materialization, Akira heard the message echo in his mind. A heavy pressure descended on his shoulders—and then his vision blurred.
The classroom at the Spiritual Arts Academy vanished. Aizen, Tōsen, and the other students faded from existence.
When his sight returned, he found himself standing beneath an endless sky, illuminated by a radiant sun.
Beneath him rose a colossal, jagged mountain, stretching impossibly high into the heavens.
And at its summit, curled atop the stone like a guardian deity, was the same crimson dragon—its molten eyes shimmering with warmth and intelligence.
"We finally meet. You must be Zhuyin."
Akira looked up at the creature. Though he phrased it as a question, his tone was filled with certainty.
"Correct."
The dragon's head dipped in affirmation. Even that small gesture stirred a cyclone of wind across the landscape of the spiritual world.
"I saw you manifest earlier in Soul Society," Akira continued. "Does this mean I'm eligible to learn Bankai?"
He stepped closer.
Though it was their first meeting—first conversation even—the resonance between their souls was overwhelming. The connection was raw, unfiltered. One human, one dragon. No, more precisely—one Shinigami, one blade.
Their exchange didn't feel like an introduction between strangers.
It felt like the reunion of two kindred spirits, parted only by time.
That depends on your performance."
A glimmer of sly amusement flickered in Zhuyin's enormous dragon eyes, a distinctly human cunning dancing behind the ancient gaze.
"My performance?"
Akira blinked in confusion.
Didn't all of his powers come from self-cultivation? Why would the Zanpakutō spirit place conditions on his growth?
Was Bankai truly so different—that he had to not only form a bond but fully win over the spirit, force materialization, and earn total submission?
"As long as you promise me this: in future battles, you must prioritize using me—no exceptions. I should always be your first choice over those three freeloaders that scatter whenever I breathe. If you agree, I'll help you master Bankai."
Zhuyin curled her serpentine lips in disdain. Her voice carried not only contempt, but also possessive irritation.
"???"
Akira froze.
Three freeloaders?
Reiatsu, Kidō, and Zanjutsu?
That's… exactly three.
"That's them," Zhuyin confirmed with a snort, seemingly reading his thoughts before he could even speak.
"Aren't Zanpakutō, Reiatsu, Kidō, and Hakuda all part of a Shinigami's core skillset?" Akira asked, resisting the urge to rub his temple.
"Don't tell me you hold grudges against the rest of them too?"
"They may all be part of a Shinigami's power," Zhuyin huffed, "but only one is the core."
"The Zanpakutō is the soul's manifested will, forged through battle and spirit. It is the root of a Shinigami's strength. Above all."
"What are Kidō, Hakuda, and Hohō to me? Tools. Pebbles scattered beneath a mountain."
"They dare stand on equal footing with me?"
Her tone was dripping with scorn, each word like fire brushing the air.
Akira: "…"
Are you sure your name's Zhuyin and not Uchiha Zhuyin?
Because the pride, the possessiveness, and now this ultimat—no, this full-on negotiation—it was giving him flashbacks to something from another dimension.
Forget the fact that she was striking a deal. This was full-blown weapon jealousy.
"So?"
"Can't do it?"
"Then fine—go train Bankai yourself."
Zhuyin's tone turned sharp as she misread his silence as hesitation.
"Wait, wait—one question."
Akira sighed, feeling an oncoming headache.
"This conversation of ours—can those other three hear it? Reiatsu, Kidō, Zanjutsu?"
It was fortunate that only Zhuyin had become sentient and visualized. If all his combat skills had consciousness and personalities, and they all tried to vie for attention like this, he would've gone insane already.
"My space. My domain. My rules," Zhuyin declared with a lofty flick of her tail.
"If they want in, they'd need my permission. No one but you enters this place."
She raised her head with noble arrogance, clearly pleased with her own sovereignty.
"Phew…"
Akira let out a breath of relief.
"Hey! Akira, have you decided yet?"
"You answering or not?"
"Come on—say something nice!"
With a powerful sweep of her wings, Zhuyin leapt down from the mountain's peak. As she descended, her massive dragon form shimmered in midair, reshaping into a graceful human woman—long crimson hair flowing behind her, sharp features marked with regal strength and icy beauty.
She landed lightly before him, standing tall and assertive, staring directly into his eyes.
It was the look of a woman demanding an answer—not unlike a girlfriend who just asked for an expensive gift and knows she's going to get it.
"…Fine. I promise."
Akira replied without hesitation.
It definitely had nothing to do with Reiatsu, Kidō, or Zanjutsu being afraid of a red-haired girl.
It was just… she was too strong. That's all. He needed the power boost.
Totally logical. Totally not being bullied by his own sword.