"Sentarō Kotsubaki-san, if you don't mind… I'd like to take over the Karakura Town patrol for now," Amamiya Miyako said, his expression calm yet firm.
He added, "I recently did a sweep through Naruki City, and the number of Hollows and wandering souls has dropped a lot. Besides, Naruki and Karakura are neighbors. Traveling back and forth won't be a problem."
"Eh… There's no strict rule against it," Sentarō Kotsubaki replied with a hesitant tone, "but wouldn't it be too troublesome? Wouldn't it be better to request backup from Seireitei?"
Miyako shook his head lightly. "No need for that. Just leave this small matter to me. While you're recovering, I'll take full responsibility."
"Yare yare… you're really persistent, huh," Sentarō Kotsubaki muttered with a tired smile, scratching his head.
Miyako grinned faintly.
If you called for someone else, it'd ruin my plans.
Sentarō Kotsubaki sighed, but eventually nodded. "Fine. With your Kaidō skills, I should be back on my feet soon anyway. It'd be kinda embarrassing to call for backup just for this."
"Then I'll count on you to rest up, Kotsubaki-san," Miyako said with a slight bow, joy welling in his chest. This was the breakthrough he needed.
....
The following day, Miyako stepped into Karakura Town. Without wasting a moment, he made his way toward Karakura General Hospital, eyes sharp as ever.
He flipped through a document he had acquired. His name was printed clearly on it:
Deceased: Amamiya MiyakoDate of Death: June 17, 200xCause of Death: UnknownFound with a twisted expression, room in disarray.
Seeing his own death record made his heart tighten. His fist clenched, and for a brief second, the image of his former life flashed before his eyes. That moment… I still remember it like it just happened.
Then, his eyes caught a name in small print near the bottom of the page:
Autopsy Physician: Ishida Ryūken
"...Found it," Miyako muttered.
Flipping through other similar files, he noticed something curious—every last one of them listed Ishida Ryūken as the physician. Most of the deceased were spiritual-aware humans or suspected mixed-blood Quincy.
So Ishida-san has been secretly researching the deaths of spiritually active individuals?I wonder… Has he already discovered the truth about the silver that forms in a Quincy's heart—the base for the Still Silver?
Closing the folder, Miyako slipped out of the hospital through an open window. His next destination was clear: the director's office—Ryūken's private office.
"Let's do this," Miyako whispered to himself, steeling his resolve.
.....
Later that day, Ryūken Ishida arrived at the hospital like always, crisp white coat fluttering slightly behind him. His senses, dulled from lack of combat, still tingled faintly. He felt something… odd.
Hmm? That's... a red reishi thread? A Shinigami's presence?
As a Quincy, he could perceive spiritual threads with ease. The thread of a Shinigami's lingering reiatsu was clearly trailing from his office. At first, he thought it was one of the stationed patrols, nothing worth fussing over.
But the trail was fresh. Too fresh.
Only a few people know my identity. Urahara Kisuke… and that idiot Isshin… but they wouldn't sneak around like this. Are the Gotei 13 sending someone after me?
Keeping his expression composed, Ryūken entered his office as if nothing were out of the ordinary. No hasty steps. No alarm. Just measured calm.
That evening, as the last golden rays of sunset filtered through the blinds, he gathered his coat and briefcase. As he stepped toward the door, he paused. Something was there—just behind him.
"Please wait a moment, Ishida-san."
Ryūken turned. The voice had come from the open window.
A figure stood there—a young man in a black Shihakushō, with serious eyes and a composed aura.
"It's me… Amamiya Miyako. Five years ago, you saved my life in my home."
Ryūken raised a brow. He hadn't expected to see this boy again—especially not wearing the robes of a Shinigami.
"Amamiya Miyako, huh… So you're a Shinigami now," he said, his voice low. "Why are you here? Are you continuing Soul Society's ancient purge against us Quincy?"
There was a cold edge in his voice, shaped by years of mistrust and buried pain.
"Ryūken-san, please don't misunderstand," Amamiya Miyako said politely. "I would never harm the one who saved me. Even though there's a long history of conflict between Quincy and Shinigami, I've never said a word about you to the Gotei 13."
Ryūken's gaze sharpened but his shoulders eased slightly. Still, there was a sharp edge to his presence—as though he was constantly on guard.
"Then why are you here, Amamiya-kun? A Shinigami stepping into the Human World just to find a Quincy... that's not exactly normal."
"I came to show you something," Miyako said with a serious tone.
"There's nothing I need to see. I've got no business with a Shinigami." Ryūken's voice was cold, distant. Even if Amamiya Miyako was once a mixed-blood Quincy, that didn't matter anymore. A Shinigami was still a Shinigami.
"Just watch, Ryūken-san," Miyako said quietly, raising one hand.
The air shimmered faintly. Even though the reishi in the Human World was thin compared to Soul Society, it slowly gathered in Miyako's palm. A faint light condensed into shape—clean, sharp, unmistakable.
A Quincy reishi arrow.
Ryūken's expression finally cracked. His eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped.
"That's... That's Reishi Shūgō," he muttered. "You're a Shinigami. You shouldn't be able to use Reishi Manipulation—let alone form a Heilig Pfeil."
"I didn't understand it either, at first," Miyako said softly. "In Seireitei, I discovered it by accident... but I've kept it hidden. I don't want Soul Society to know. That's why I came to you, Ryūken-san."
Ryūken looked away, lips pressed into a firm line. Even now, faced with something this unusual, he wasn't quick to trust.
"You're wasting your time. I'm no longer a Quincy. I haven't hunted a Hollow in years. Whatever it is you're dealing with—it doesn't concern me."
Miyako's gaze sharpened. "Then... are you saying the deaths on June 17, 200x, have nothing to do with you? Including the ones I found in the autopsy records—all Quincy."
Ryūken stiffened.
"What exactly are you getting at, Amamiya-kun?"
"I'm sorry, Ryūken-san. I dug into the case. Every soul that died that day... had one thing in common. And I also found traces that something happened to your wife—though her death wasn't recorded that day."
Miyako didn't actually know Katagiri Kanae's name—he was bluffing, fishing for a reaction.
Ryūken's fists clenched, then slowly opened again. His composure returned, icy and calm.
"And what do you plan to do with that information?"
"I've been thinking, Ryūken-san. About why you showed up near my house by 'accident.' About the death of your wife. About the strange power I have to use Quincy techniques. It all circles back to that day—June 17, 200x."
He met Ryūken's gaze directly.
"I don't think it was just a coincidence. I believe something happened that day. A purge. Targeting people with unique bloodlines—like mixed-blood Quincy."
Ryūken remained silent. His sharp gaze pierced through Miyako's words, but he said nothing. The room seemed to fall into silence, the weight of unsaid truths hanging between them.
He already knew.
And now, so did Miyako.