As night fell over the dorms of the Shin'ō Academy, Amamiya Miyako sat cross-legged on his bed, unsheathing his Asauchi in silence. The dim glow of the moon cast long shadows across the wooden floor. Tonight, he planned to once again enter his inner world, to deepen his connection with his Zanpakutō—and more importantly, to continue grappling with the threat that troubled him most: the Quincy.
"Tch... yare yare. Still no foolproof way to counter a Quincy." Miyako exhaled sharply. "Guess I'll just have to test it in real combat and see where it leads."
As his focus deepened, his vision blurred, and he was drawn back into his inner world.
...
"You're back already?" the black-haired boy sneered, perched casually atop a telephone pole in the darkness. The world around them was a quiet, lamplit street under an endless night sky. "I figured you'd go bury your head in some books before coming back to lose again."
"I'm not here to lose," Miyako said coolly, standing on another nearby pole. "If I can't find the answer through study, I'll forge one through battle."
"Hah... that's the kind of talk I like to hear. But if you keep failing, doesn't that just make you a fool?"
"Then let's see who the real fool is."
Without waiting, Miyako used Shunpo, vanishing from sight and reappearing right beside the boy.
"Still impatient, huh?" The boy didn't even flinch. "Your Zanjutsu isn't sharp enough to overwhelm me. And even if you're scared of my Quincy powers, this isn't how you're going to win."
Miyako didn't strike right away. He knew direct combat wouldn't land a clean hit. Instead, he extended his left hand.
"Bakudō #21: Sekienton!"
He skipped the incantation, opting for the Hadō without chant method. A thick red smoke burst outward, blanketing the boy's field of vision.
"Hmph. Trying to blind me, huh?" the boy chuckled from within the smoke, still unmoved. "Alright then. Show me what you've got."
But Miyako wasn't attacking blindly. He'd been thinking—especially after first seeing the boy form a Quincy Cross from reishi. He knew brute strength wouldn't be enough. The boy could even pull from his own memories, which made matters worse.
Switching his blade to his left hand, Miyako slashed—but the attack was only a feint.
"Predictable," the boy scoffed, dodging smoothly with barely a movement.
But that wasn't Miyako's aim. His right hand shot forward—not for the boy, but for the silver cross that floated beside him.
"You think you can grab me with your bare hands? That's some serious arrogance." The boy chuckled, gathering Reishi beneath his feet to perform Hirenkyaku—but he was a second too slow.
"I'm not aiming for you," Miyako said calmly. "I'm after this."
With a snap of concentration, his hand closed around the Quincy Cross.
"...Oh?" The boy's smirk faltered. "And what exactly do you plan to do with that?"
"You said something the first time we met," Miyako replied. He held up the cross, its glow faint but pulsing. "A Shinigami must gain power in the Shinigami way. That's what you said, right?"
The boy remained silent.
"Then this cross, which represents your power—I'll claim it using my own resolve."
Miyako dismissed his Asauchi. That sword had no true power—it was only a reflection of his mind. But the Quincy Cross in his hand? That was different. It was a manifestation of power—his inner world's truth made tangible.
He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing.
"Like the first time... at the entrance exam... when I felt that pulse…"
Around him, the reishi began to stir. The air shimmered. The black-haired boy's expression shifted ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth curling upward.
"Now we're talking..."
The silver cross in Miyako's palm hovered into the air. Threads of spiritual particles gathered to it, as if drawn by a silent magnet. Reishi converged and flowed like silk, threading upward and downward, the cross forming the very heart of the structure.
Bit by bit, a shape began to take form. A spiritual bow—light blue and pristine white—materialized in Miyako's hand.
When he opened his eyes, the reishi bow pulsed softly in his grasp.
"Heh... easier than the first time I used Reishi Shūgō," Miyako muttered to himself. "Alright then…"
He lifted the bow with practiced precision and raised his other hand, gathering reishi at his fingertips. A glowing arrow of spiritual energy shimmered into existence.
"Let's go. Round two," Miyako said, calm but determined, his voice echoing slightly through the dark streets of his inner world.
"Hahahahaha!" The black-haired boy burst into raucous laughter, one hand clutching his side, the other covering his eyes. "You really are an interesting one, Miyako. You surprise me every time."
The boy grinned and lifted his own hand. In a flash of light, a reishi bow formed—refined, majestic, and brimming with spiritual pressure.
"But don't get cocky," he said, aiming an arrow directly at Miyako. "You only took a fragment of my power. That little taste… it's nothing."
Even so, there was a glint of excitement in his gaze.
Miyako...You don't understand yet what my power truly is. But you will. It's not something that ends with the strength of a mere Shinigami…
No more words were needed. The moment froze.
Both of them fired at the same time.
Blue and white arrows of concentrated reishi streaked through the air, colliding with a soundless impact that shattered the vision like glass—
...
Back in the real world, in the Thirteenth Division barracks, Amamiya Miyako stirred awake.
"…Tch."
He exhaled sharply and sat up, dragging a hand down his face. "Yare yare… another failure."
Though he'd briefly grasped the power of the Quincy, his ability to use it was far too limited. Unlike his Zanpakutō spirit—who could effortlessly replicate Quincy techniques directly from Miyako's memories—Miyako himself could barely manage Reishi Shūgō, and even that took immense effort.
"Che… That guy's supposed to be my Zanpakutō. How is he using my memories against me?"
He felt like a student taking an exam with one page of notes, while his opponent had the entire textbook... and the answer key.
"Budget Quincy versus Quincy Pro Max," Miyako muttered, flopping back onto his futon. "Unfair doesn't even begin to describe it."
Still, he wasn't going to give up. Not now.
He needed to grow stronger—fast. The solution was clear: challenge a seated officer. If he could prove his ability, he might be assigned to a Human World patrol. And that was exactly where he wanted to go.
He'd flipped through the Thirteenth Division operations manual earlier that day, a gift from Captain Ukitake. According to the document, while many seated officers were stationed in the Human World, Karakura Town was considered high-priority.
Apparently, Karakura Town's dense spiritual activity made it a hotspot for Hollow incidents—and, by extension, a proving ground for the strong. Only upper-ranking seated officers were permitted to operate there.
If Miyako could defeat one of them in official combat, perhaps he could earn a post in Karakura. And once there...
He clenched his fists.
"Ishida Ryūken-san… I need to convince you."
He knew the man's reputation. Cold, stern, detached from the Quincy ways. But also incredibly powerful. If anyone could teach him to control Quincy abilities properly, it was Ryūken.
And yet, time was running out.
"I've only got... two years left," he whispered to himself. "That's not much. If I miss this window, learning Quincy powers later might be impossible."
There was no going back now.
Amamiya Miyako lay down once more, shutting his eyes against the ceiling, thoughts still buzzing.
Tomorrow... he would begin making his move.