After joining the Gotei 13, life definitely got better. Amamiya Miyako now had his own room in the Thirteenth Division's dormitory—a huge upgrade from the shared quarters back at the Shin'ō Academy. Finally, he could do something he'd been putting off for a long time.
He sat cross-legged on the tatami mat, his Asauchi laid horizontally across his knees. The time had come—to learn the true name of his Zanpakutō.
During his four years at the academy, Miyako hadn't tried to bond deeply with his Asauchi. Why? Because he'd been afraid. Afraid that it would transform too early, that he'd attract too much attention before he was ready. The few times he had called out to it, he felt the connection stirring—like something just on the verge of awakening. So he stopped. He sealed it away.
"Yare yare... that was reckless of me," he muttered to himself.
But now things were different. Now, as a full-fledged Shinigami, it was time to stop holding back. His instincts screamed it. The world was already trembling behind the scenes, and he had no intention of being left behind.
He slowly let his consciousness sink deeper, until the world around him faded away.
When Miyako opened his eyes again, he was there—in that dim, chaotic space that served as his inner world.
"It's been a while, Miyako-san."
A calm voice echoed behind him.
Miyako didn't even need to turn. "I figured you'd show up," he said with a wry smile.
A young man stepped forward, black-haired and robed in a white haori. His presence was both serene and intense, like a storm hiding behind still clouds.
"You've only ever called out to me a few times in four years. And now you think you can just walk in and learn my name? That's a bit arrogant, don't you think?"
"Yeah… maybe." Miyako chuckled softly. "But more than arrogance… it's desperation. You understand, don't you? I don't want to die again."
The black-haired youth's smile widened. "Heh. So you haven't forgotten what it felt like… when that Hollow devoured you back in the Human World."
"No way I'd forget," Miyako said, standing up slowly.
"So… how will you draw out my power?"
"By asking, plainly. Why won't you tell me your name already? Shikai is supposed to be a dialogue, right? We already understand each other—why keep hiding it?"
"Foolish. You think we understand each other, but you don't even know who I am," the spirit replied, clicking his tongue.
Then, strangely, he turned away and began rummaging around in a corner of the space.
"...Huh? What are you doing?" Miyako asked, raising an eyebrow.
"This inner world is shaped by your heart and memory. So naturally, whatever's buried deep inside you ends up here too."
After a moment, the youth lifted something from a pitch-black box—something small and silver that glinted under the pale light.
Miyako's eyes widened.
"A cross pendant…?"
"Looks familiar, doesn't it?" the spirit said, smirking. "Go ahead. Dig through those memories you sealed away."
As the words fell, the silver cross began to glow with a pale blue light. Reishi gathered around it, forming a shape—no, a weapon.
A spirit bow.
"...This is…"
"Exactly what you think it is. You know where this comes from," the spirit replied. "C'mon. It's time to fight. Learn my power not with your head—but with your soul."
Without warning, a blue-white arrow shot straight toward Miyako.
"Tch!" Miyako clicked his tongue and Shunpo'd to the side. "No warm-up, huh?"
"Don't ask. Just fight!" the spirit said, drawing another reishi arrow and loosing it in a blink.
There was no cover in this space. No advantage. Just the two of them. Miyako grit his teeth. He had to do more than just dodge—he had to engage.
He narrowed his eyes and made a break for the window. Glass exploded around him as he hurled himself into the open air—only to land on a quiet, dimly lit street.
"Running away already?" the spirit's voice mocked from above. He now stood mid-air, calmly holding his bow at the ready. "Don't tell me the Hollow from before still has you shaking in your boots."
Amamiya Miyako's mouth twitched. Yare yare... Why could that guy use Hirenkyaku to stand midair, just like Ishida Ryūken had done back then? Before he could even steady his footing on the ground, another reishi arrow whistled through the air toward him.
"Tch!" Miyako clicked his tongue and vanished with Shunpo, dodging the projectile by a hair's breadth.
"Oi, are you just going to keep dodging?" the black-haired youth called out mockingly, nocking another arrow. "Didn't your big speech earlier sound a bit empty if that's all you've got?"
Another arrow flew.
Miyako gritted his teeth. He knew that if he kept running like this, he'd never get close—let alone learn the true name of his Zanpakutō.
He inhaled sharply, then began to chant.
"Ye lord! Mask of flesh and bone, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Truth and temperance, upon this sinless wall of dreams unleash but slightly the wrath of your claws—"
"Hado #31: Shakkahō!"
A blazing sphere of crimson fire burst from his palm, roaring toward his opponent.
The black-haired youth scoffed and flipped backward in midair. "That's too slow. Chanting the whole thing? Were you trying to warn me first?" he smirked.
Miyako's eyes narrowed. Of course he dodged. But…
"Bakudō #30: Shitotsu Sansen!"
Three golden beams of light exploded outward like arrowheads, pinning the black-haired youth's arms and waist in a triangular seal.
"Oh?" he said, momentarily immobilized, though still grinning. "Not bad…"
Miyako didn't waste a second. He flash-stepped forward and slashed with his asauchi.
But—
"It's not enough."
The youth bent backward unnaturally, letting the blade pass over his face. With a sharp twist of his body, he used Miyako's own sword as leverage and shattered the Kido restraints with a burst of reishi.
Crack!
Miyako jumped back just in time as the opponent released a volley of arrows mid-air.
This guy's like a damn machine…
He landed behind a ruined wall, panting. So far, he's only used Quincy techniques. And he's skilled. His Hirenkyaku alone is a pain in the ass…
Meanwhile, his own Kido—though learned at the Shin'ō Academy—was still mid-tier at best. And his Zanjutsu couldn't even bring him into range.
"Oi, are you hiding now?" the youth's voice echoed through the training field. "You won't hit me from behind a wall, you know!"
Still, Miyako didn't answer. He was weighing his options.
The youth sighed dramatically. "Sheesh, guess this is where I end today's lesson." He slowly rose higher into the sky. "Oh right—found something fun in your memories. Wanna see it?"
Miyako cautiously peeked out from behind cover—his eyes widened.
No way…
The black-haired youth hovered high above, bow drawn, reishi thick around him like mist.
"Tch… Not good."
Miyako ran forward, shouting an incantation under his breath while weaving hand signs.
"Ye lord! Mask of flesh and bone… wall of dreams that knows no sin… let the hammer of blue thunder crash down…"
"Hado #33: Sōkatsui!"
A massive blast of azure fire erupted from his palm and raced upward—not to strike, but to interrupt.
The youth simply smiled.
"Too late."
He lowered the bow.
"Rain of Light."
Countless reishi arrows manifested in the clouds above, shimmering like silver needles—and then fell all at once, like a torrential downpour.
Miyako's Sōkatsui was obliterated in mid-flight.
"Damn it—!" He raised his arms instinctively, but—
So this… is what it feels like to be pierced by a thousand arrows…
Pain bloomed everywhere. His body refused to move. His thoughts slowed.
To use a technique from my own memories against me… that's really something…
And then, everything went black.