"Do you kids really think Bankai is that simple?"
"In every generation, among thousands of Shinigami, only a handful ever achieve Bankai. And once they do, their names are etched into Soul Society's history forever."
"Materialization is just step one on the path to Bankai. Don't act like it's some common party trick."
Byakuya sneered at the buzzing classroom. But the shock in his eyes betrayed him.
He saw what Lan Yan did yesterday—how he forged his own Zanpakutō from nothing and unlocked its Shikai on the same day.
"One word of advice, Byakuya—don't talk too soon," Isshin said with a shrug.
"You're saying… you actually believe he'll master Bankai?" Byakuya challenged, eyes narrowed.
"I didn't say that."
"But I've never—ever—seen a Zanpakutō materialize on its own, drag its wielder into the inner world, and act like an eager puppy."
"In all my years in the Gotei 13—hell, in all Soul Society history—I've never heard of that happening. Not once."
Isshin gave Byakuya a sideways glance.
The noble heir opened his mouth… and couldn't speak.
Even he had to admit that Isshin wasn't wrong.
He had met his Zanpakutō spirit, yes. But only a handful of times. And never like that.
Never did Senbonzakura crawl out of his soul like an excited fanboy and drag him into the inner world by the wrist.
And definitely not within 24 hours of holding a sword for the first time.
Byakuya looked from Lan Yan… to the enormous red claw resting gently on his shoulder…
…and for the first time, I seriously wondered:
"Why is his sword such a simp?"
Meanwhile, Lan Yan was suddenly yanked into a swirling haze.
One blink—and the classroom was gone.
No Aizen. No Isshin. No Gotei 13 hopefuls. Just sky.
And far above… an incandescent sun that lit up the world like golden fire.
Below him, a mountain—so vast it split the clouds—and coiled atop its peak: a colossal, crimson-scaled dragon, its eyes glowing like twin galaxies.
"First time meeting you, huh? You must be Zhuoyin."
Lan Yan walked forward, speaking with certainty, not doubt.
"That's me," the dragon answered with a single nod—one that stirred a hurricane.
"I saw you just now. You showed up outside. That means… I'm ready for Bankai, right?"
Lan Yan's tone was calm, but his curiosity was genuine.
The two shared the same soul. There was no tension.
Just a reunion between old friends who hadn't yet met.
"…Depends," Zhuoyin said slyly.
"On… what, exactly?"
Lan Yan raised a brow.
Weren't his powers supposed to train themselves?
Why was this one giving him homework?
"Promise me," the dragon said, "that in any fight from now on, you'll always use me first."
"No Kidō, no Hakuda, no Hohō, no Spirit Pressure nonsense."
"Only me."
Lan Yan blinked.
"…Wait. Are you talking about Spirit Pressure, Kidō, and Swordsmanship?"
"All three?" he asked.
Zhuoyin nodded slowly.
"Those three? Pebbles. Not even a tenth of what I am."
"Zanpakutō is the true power of a Shinigami. The rest? Background noise."
Lan Yan stared.
This guy… did he just drop a power-tier flex?
"Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, Kidō—mere crumbs."
"Only I am supreme," Zhuoyin declared, eyes gleaming with pride.
Lan Yan: "…You sure your name isn't Uchiha Zhuoyin?"
Still, he bit back the sarcasm.
"You know," he asked, "can the others hear this conversation?"
Zhuoyin snorted. "In here? My domain. My rules. No guests allowed."
Lan Yan breathed a sigh of relief.
Good.
The last thing he needed was four competing power systems trying to one-up each other.
"Now then," Zhuoyin said, swooping down from the mountain peak.
As it descended, the dragon shimmered—transforming midair into a tall woman with flowing crimson hair, clad in glowing robes, cold fire in her eyes.
She landed before Lan Yan like a martial queen demanding a tribute.
"Well?" she said, crossing her arms. "You gonna agree to my terms or not?"
"I…" Lan Yan paused.
…This has nothing to do with the red-haired hot dragon lady form.
Absolutely nothing.
"…Fine. I agree."
Zhuoyin smirked.
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