Amamiya Miyako, who had been sitting cross-legged on the futon, suddenly opened his eyes and gasped. Cold sweat trickled down his temple.
"Haah… haah… Yare yare, getting pierced like that still feels too real…"
The sensation of being shot through lingered painfully. He clutched his chest, exhaling shakily.
I really was too naïve, Miyako thought bitterly. Just calling out to my Zanpakutō's true name… I thought it would be straightforward. How foolish.
At the Shin'ō Academy, things had gone smoothly for him—almost too smoothly. His Kido skills had advanced faster than expected. His grades were solid. His teachers praised him. And yet… confronting his Zanpakutō spirit had been an entirely different experience.
That guy didn't reveal anything except Quincy abilities... Miyako clenched his fists. Is my Zanpakutō rejecting me? Or is it trying to test me even further?
He remembered what the spirit had said—something about Miyako only understanding him unilaterally.
"So I still haven't truly heard its voice…" he muttered to himself.
Miyako sighed and turned to look out the window. The sky outside had already turned dark. A full day had passed within the inner world. Even though it felt like mere minutes.
"That's enough for today."
He lay back on his futon and closed his eyes. Sleep took him quickly.
...
The next morning, Miyako walked toward the Thirteenth Division's training grounds, his expression deep in thought.
The spirit used Quincy techniques. Reishi arrows, Hirenkyaku, even Reishi constructs... All textbook Quincy.
But… if I tell anyone my Zanpakutō uses Quincy abilities, they might panic. Even worse, I might end up in front of the Central 46...
He clicked his tongue softly. "Tch… dangerous."
Maybe he could ask Captain Ukitake for advice—not about his Zanpakutō, but about how to handle long-range combatants.
Though Ukitake-taichō was often bedridden, he had served under Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto for centuries. His wisdom was real, and Miyako respected that.
Just as he arrived at the training field, he noticed someone already there. It was still early morning. The sun had barely risen.
Miyako stepped forward and blinked.
"Rukia-senpai?"
There she was—Kuchiki Rukia, gracefully swinging her Zanpakutō in solitary training.
"Good morning, Rukia-senpai," he called out with a small bow. "Training so early… Rukia-senpai really is amazing."
Rukia glanced over and smiled softly. "Good morning, Amamiya-san. Amazing? Not at all. I just… wanted to train a little extra."
Her voice carried a faint sadness that didn't match her smile. Miyako could tell she wasn't just having a bad day. This sorrow ran deep—had for a long time.
"Rukia-senpai… You train this early every morning, don't you?" he asked gently.
"Eh?" Rukia blinked. "How did you know that?"
"I heard from Kiyone-senpai yesterday… and I guessed the rest."
Miyako watched her quietly. He remembered what Kiyone had told him about Kaien-dono—Shiba Kaien, the former vice-captain. A figure both admired and mourned.
Miyako continued, "Rukia-senpai… when Kaien-fukutaichō passed away… what was his final expression?"
Rukia froze, her eyes widening slightly.
"He… he ran into my blade of his own will. And he… smiled. He even apologized to me."
Her voice trembled.
"But even so, I was the one who killed him. That's a fact that won't change. Maybe… I shouldn't even be a Shinigami…"
She looked away, shame darkening her features.
Miyako's expression hardened.
"…How disgraceful, Rukia-senpai."
"What… did you say?" she asked, stunned.
"You keep mourning his death, but have you even tried to carry on his will?" Miyako said coldly. "You swing your sword every day, but it's all empty. You haven't grown at all."
"You train day after day, but where is your heart in all of this? Every time someone brings up Vice-Captain Kaien, you drown in guilt instead of rising above it. You're not honoring his memory—you're clinging to it like a crutch. Honestly… it's pathetic."
Rukia's hands curled into fists. "You...!"
"If this is all you've got, then I'll be the one to inherit Kaien-dono's will. I heard the Thirteenth Division hasn't had a proper Vice-Captain in a while... Then I'll take that seat. I'll become a Shinigami even greater than Kaien-dono himself."
Her spiritual pressure flared in anger.
"You dare speak like that?" she hissed. "You don't know anything about him—how could you claim to surpass him?!"
But before she could continue, Miyako stepped forward, voice sharp and clear.
"Words mean nothing without strength. You should know that better than anyone, Rukia-senpai."
He reached for the Asauchi at his waist and drew it in a smooth motion.
"Let's settle this with our blades. Show me you haven't wasted all that training. Prove that you're still worthy of Kaien-dono's legacy."
Rukia's eyes narrowed. "You're serious?"
"Very."
Truth be told, Miyako had been itching for a proper fight to measure his current abilities. Rukia just happened to give him a reason.
Rukia took a deep breath and unsheathed her own sword, stepping into stance. "Then I'll make you take back every word you just said. You'll see that Kaien-dono's legacy isn't something you can carry so easily."
The moment snapped into silence.
Then—shunpo.
Miyako vanished.
'Fast!' Rukia thought, barely catching his approach. 'This isn't the speed of a fresh Academy graduate…'
But she didn't panic. Her grip tightened, and she raised her blade to meet his.
The clash echoed through the courtyard—steel on steel—as sparks flew between them.
Miyako was calm. Rukia's swordsmanship was solid, and her instincts were sharp. Not as raw and aggressive as Abarai-san's, but polished in her own right. She was no pushover.
But neither was he.
Their blades locked, and Miyako pushed off, flipping back mid-air.
"Bakudō #21: Sekienton!" he chanted.
In an instant, a cloud of red smoke burst from his palm, shrouding the battlefield.
'Trying to block my sight?' Rukia frowned. "Bakudō #4: Hainawa"
A glowing yellow rope shot toward Miyako's hand—but he didn't dodge.
The smoke swallowed them both.
"I've got you—!" Rukia yanked the rope, ready to drag him in. But... nothing. The rope was slack.
'What?! I had him!'
Then—another voice behind her.
"Bakudō #4: Hainawa."
Rukia spun just in time to avoid the rope aimed at her.
But its target wasn't her—it wrapped around a sword.
Clack!
In one motion, the sword snapped back into Miyako's hand.
He'd let go of his blade—just to make her waste her Bakudō. Then used her own tactic against her.
Rukia's eyes widened.
'He tricked me—!'
Before she could fully recover, Miyako swept forward. The blade sliced clean through the air—just a hair's breadth from her face.
A few strands of her hair floated down.
"Tch…" Rukia darted back with shunpo, a cold sweat forming on her brow.
His Zanjutsu and shunpo were both above average, but what really stood out was his battle sense. His ability to read and counter. Rukia couldn't underestimate him—not anymore.
Miyako lowered his sword slightly and gave a crooked grin.
"What's wrong, Rukia-senpai? Are you planning to keep dodging while a newbie gives you a lecture?"
"Yare yare…" Rukia muttered, steeling herself. "You're really full of yourself, huh?"
"Only a little." Miyako adjusted his stance. "But I'm not wrong, am I?"
Her knuckles whitened around her hilt. This wasn't just a fight anymore. This was about Kaien. About proving she hadn't forgotten what it meant to wield her sword.
Rukia took a deep breath and settled her gaze on him.
"I'll show you, Amamiya-kun. I haven't forgotten a thing."