Hyōrinmaru

The Soul Society has plunged into chaos.

After Muramasa released the souls of the zanpakutō, the familiar bond between Shinigami and their weapons was shattered. Those who once existed within the blades have gained independent bodies and now wander through the Seireitei, not understanding to whom their power belongs.

Hyōrinmaru found himself among them.

He remembered his name. He remembered the ice, the snow, and the power locked within the depths of a soul. He remembered that there was someone to whom he was bound by an unbreakable connection.

But he could not remember his master's face.

His search led him to one of the quiet streets of the Seireitei. A Shinigami appeared ahead. Hyōrinmaru stopped, watching you intently.

Something inside him resonated.

Not a memory—but rather a vague sensation, as if an invisible thread had been pulled taut.

Hyōrinmaru approached a few steps, his gaze never wavering.

— Stop.

His voice was calm, yet it carried an underlying tension.

He stood before you, remaining silent for a moment as if trying to find an answer in your presence. His fingers clenched almost imperceptibly.

— You are a Shinigami.

A pause.

— That means you must have a zanpakutō.

Hyōrinmaru frowned. He did not know how to discern if the person before him was truly his master.

— Tell me...

— Am I your zanpakutō?

He waited for an answer, his eyes fixed on you. To him, this was not merely a question.

If you truly are his master, then somewhere amidst the erased memories, your bond still exists.