Bleach: The Shinigami’s Zanpakutō That Unleashed Bankai On Its Own

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The searing bolt of white lightning lit up the night sky, cutting straight through the Hollow on the street below.

Boom!

Thunder cracked. Sparks scattered. The air filled with scorched ozone.

The serpent-like Hollow didn't even have time to scream before it disintegrated into spirit particles, vanishing into the wind.

[Your Hadō #4: Byakurai is excited by the kill. Practice efficiency increased.]

[Your Hadō #4: Byakurai's potential development is approaching breakthrough!]

Moyu's brows twitched at the system's second prompt.

"Potential development? Wait, this thing still has room to grow?"

His face shifted through several expressions, as if he were watching dye mix in a vat.

He finally exhaled and muttered with deadpan calm, "It's honestly depressing when even a Level 4 Hadō spell is more talented than I am."

He pulled out the standard-issue communicator developed by the Twelfth Division. The PHS-like device blinked with incoming data—another Hollow had appeared in the northern district.

With a sigh, he took off in that direction.

The messenger machine was a vital tool for any stationed Shinigami. It allowed communication with both the Research Bureau and any nearby allies. More importantly, it tracked Hollow signatures across the human world, streamlining the kill-confirmation process.

As Moyu disappeared into the sky, a shadow stirred.

On a nearby rooftop, a small black cat narrowed its golden eyes, fur faintly ruffled by the night breeze.

"Meow… What a strange guy," it murmured, licking its paw thoughtfully.

---

Moyu, unaware of the feline observer, soon arrived at the rendezvous point and met his temporary contact.

The man was tall, with a rugged frame and a seasoned aura that matched his years of stationing in Karakura.

"Mikami Saiki, Thirteenth Division," the man greeted formally. "It's an honor to meet you, Third Seat Moyu."

Moyu barely looked at him. "Cool. Business as usual. Unless something blows up in your face, don't come to me."

"Yes, sir."

Mikami didn't flinch. He'd long grown used to superiors who preferred to stay uninvolved. Moyu was, by all appearances, that ideal kind of superior.

Their base of operations was an abandoned warehouse—but internally, it was surprisingly functional. Clean bedding, ample supplies, communications relay—everything a Shinigami needed to live semi-comfortably in the human world without reverting to a gigai.

Sprawled out on a dusty but soft couch, Moyu stretched with a groan.

"Boring? Sure. But at least it beats constantly getting dragged into political messes," he muttered. "If I just stay quiet for a few years… master Zanpakutō, refine my Reiatsu... maybe I can finally steer my future properly."

He knew the rhythm now.

The system—his cheat—was tailor-made for solo growth. No mentors. No squad drills. Just raw combat, endless practice, and rewards.

Even low-level techniques like Hadō #4: Byakurai were on the verge of unlocking deeper potential.

And it all came back to Reiatsu.

He closed his eyes, slowly exhaling as his spiritual pressure expanded to sweep the room.

"All Shinigami fights are ultimately Reiatsu duels," he thought. "Power, speed, skill—none of it matters if you're being crushed by the other's spiritual weight."

And then—

"Hmm?"

Something brushed against his Reiatsu—a faint, familiar fluctuation.

He exhaled.

"You really don't waste time, do you?"

No sooner had he spoken than a black blur dropped from the ceiling, aiming directly for his face.

Thud!

"You damn cat!"

"Meow!"

Chaos erupted.

Furniture overturned. Shelves crashed. Spiritual pressure flared as one Shinigami and one feline whirled through the space, claws flashing and fists flying.

When the dust finally settled, both combatants sat on opposite ends of the room—bruised, glaring, neither willing to blink first.

"You," said the cat at last, breaking the silence, "what are you doing in the human world?"

Moyu sighed, casting a faint Kaidō glow over the fresh scratches on his forearm.

"Captain's orders. What else?"

He scooped the cat into his lap without waiting for permission, running a hand through her ruffled fur.

"Still got that nasty temper, Yoruichi."

"Meow... Don't act familiar."

He chuckled. "Come on. Admit it—deep down, you missed me."

The cat said nothing. Her tail twitched.

Moyu glanced down at her with a small grin.

"Yoruichi Shihōin. Shinigami turned cat." He gave a mock sigh. "Guess it really is impossible between Shinigami and cats…"

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