Amamiya Miyako stood quietly, eyes fixed on Ishida Ryūken, who remained silent behind his desk. The atmosphere was heavy. Still, Miyako didn't press. He waited.
Finally, Ryūken's voice cut through the silence. "This has nothing to do with you anymore, does it?" His tone was cold, distant. "You've become a Shinigami. Quincy matters are no longer your concern."
"…Unrelated, huh?" Miyako murmured, lowering his gaze to his open palm as faint strands of reishi began to swirl in it. "Then, Ryūken-san… tell me—what exactly is this in my hand? Why were the deaths that day never explained? Why were the bodies—my body—examined by you? Why was I the only one who survived as a soul? What happened to the others? Were they devoured by Hollows… or did they simply vanish?"
Ryūken's expression didn't change, but his silence spoke volumes.
"You already know, don't you?" Miyako pressed, voice low. "I saw it in your eyes the moment I brought it up."
He took a step forward.
"I'm not asking out of curiosity, Ryūken-san. I'm asking because I don't want to die like that again. A death I didn't understand, couldn't resist, couldn't escape. I can't let it happen again."
Ryūken closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling quietly. Even now, he couldn't bring himself to admit the truth—that only Miyako's soul had remained intact after that incident. The rest hadn't even become souls. They were just… gone.
"That incident… it wasn't an accident," Miyako said firmly. "I refuse to believe it was. Have you even investigated what caused it?"
Ryūken didn't answer.
"You know I'm right." Miyako pressed further. "I'm not just a Shinigami anymore. I've awakened abilities that don't belong in any of the Gotei 13's handbooks. The reishi in my blood… it isn't ordinary. I'm already a target—both for the Gotei and those who might fear what I've become."
""…"
Ishida Ryūken said nothing at first.
He wasn't sure whether to reveal the information he had uncovered—at least, not yet. But Amamiya Miyako's words struck too close to the truth. A Shinigami wielding Quincy abilities wasn't just rare; it was unnatural in the eyes of Soul Society. Dangerous. A walking contradiction.
And that meant attention. Unwanted, persistent attention.
Miyako seemed to sense the hesitation in Ryūken's silence. So, he decided to press further.
"I'm currently a member of the Gotei 13," he said evenly. "Assigned to the Thirteenth Division. Our main duties include traveling to the Human World, purifying Hollows, and performing konso on wandering souls."
He met Ryūken's gaze directly.
"As one of the Three Realms, Soul Society preserves a massive archive of spiritual knowledge. That includes material on the Quincy. I can access information you never could—and I'll make it a point to track anything Quincy-related that surfaces there."
Ryūken narrowed his eyes slightly, not in anger, but in thought. The offer was calculated, and it was clever. But still—why? Why go to these lengths?
Ishida Ryūken was silent for a long moment before finally speaking.
"What exactly is your purpose?" he asked, his voice cool and precise. "Why pursue this at all? The truth doesn't matter. As long as you carry out your duties as a Shinigami, none of this should concern you."
He regarded the young man with faint skepticism. Despite his cold exterior, Ryūken was genuinely puzzled. Why had Amamiya Miyako brought this up so directly? Why make such a request?
"And the Quincy power," he added, "as long as you don't use it, nothing will happen."
Miyako gave a dry, bitter smile.
"You're smarter than that, Ishida-san. Don't tell me you're being naive now."
"You know the saying—'An innocent man is guilty because of his wealth.' I'm an anomaly. A Shinigami with Quincy power is like a spark in dry grass. Even if I do nothing, someone will come to extinguish me."
He met Ryūken's gaze, expression calm but resolute.
"I have only one goal: to master power. Enough that no one can harm me again just for being what I am. That's why I'm here. Ishida-san—please teach me how to use Quincy abilities."
For a brief moment, Ryūken felt something shift. A strange sense of detachment settled over him, like watching a dream from the outside. A Shinigami—standing in his office, asking him, a Quincy, for instruction.
It was absurd. And yet, not without logic.
Ryūken saw the purpose in Miyako's request. The calm determination. The understanding of what it meant to be hunted for your nature.
And in that moment, he found his answer.
A faint, nearly imperceptible smile touched his lips.
"A Shinigami asking a Quincy—whose strength is immeasurable—for guidance?"
He gave a short, almost amused breath. "What if I have nothing to offer?"
His words were measured, but inwardly, he had already accepted.
The truth behind his wife's death remained unresolved. He had suspicions, but no confirmation. The Human World offered avenues of investigation, but Soul Society was a blind spot—a locked door he could not open.
If Amamiya Miyako could step through that door, even partially, then Ryūken had every reason to help him.
Besides, there were other matters. Ones only a Shinigami could deal with.
"That still makes me better than a half-baked Quincy," Miyako said with a faint smirk, recognizing that Ryūken had already conceded.
Ryūken didn't respond. He had never cared for the pride of Pure-Blood Quincy heritage. To him, Quincy powers were tools—nothing more. Teaching them to an outlier like Miyako didn't offend him in the least.
In truth, he loathed Quincy power. Had the full truth been known—had he been free of it—he would have cast it aside long ago. But as things stood, he continued to train in secret, out of necessity.
Ishida Ryūken was silent for a long moment before finally speaking.
"What exactly is your purpose?" he asked, his voice cool and precise. "Why pursue this at all? The truth doesn't matter. As long as you carry out your duties as a Shinigami, none of this should concern you."
He regarded the young man with faint skepticism. Despite his cold exterior, Ryūken was genuinely puzzled. Why had Amamiya Miyako brought this up so directly? Why make such a request?
"And the Quincy power," he added, "as long as you don't use it, nothing will happen."
Miyako gave a dry, bitter smile.
"You're smarter than that, Ishida-san. Don't tell me you're being naive now."
"You know the saying—'An innocent man is guilty because of his wealth.' I'm an anomaly. A Shinigami with Quincy power is like a spark in dry grass. Even if I do nothing, someone will come to extinguish me."
He met Ryūken's gaze, expression calm but resolute.
"I have only one goal: to master power. Enough that no one can harm me again just for being what I am. That's why I'm here. Ishida-san—please teach me how to use Quincy abilities."
For a brief moment, Ryūken felt something shift. A strange sense of detachment settled over him, like watching a dream from the outside. A Shinigami—standing in his office, asking him, a Quincy, for instruction.
It was absurd. And yet, not without logic.
Ryūken saw the purpose in Miyako's request. The calm determination. The understanding of what it meant to be hunted for your nature.
And in that moment, he found his answer.
A faint, nearly imperceptible smile touched his lips.
"A Shinigami asking a Quincy—whose strength is immeasurable—for guidance?"
He gave a short, almost amused breath. "What if I have nothing to offer?"
His words were measured, but inwardly, he had already accepted.
The truth behind his wife's death remained unresolved. He had suspicions, but no confirmation. The Human World offered avenues of investigation, but Soul Society was a blind spot—a locked door he could not open.
If Amamiya Miyako could step through that door, even partially, then Ryūken had every reason to help him.
Besides, there were other matters. Ones only a Shinigami could deal with.
"That still makes me better than a half-baked Quincy," Miyako said with a faint smirk, recognizing that Ryūken had already conceded.
Ryūken didn't respond. He had never cared for the pride of Pure-Blood Quincy heritage. To him, Quincy powers were tools—nothing more. Teaching them to an outlier like Miyako didn't offend him in the least.
In truth, he loathed Quincy power. Had the full truth been known—had he been free of it—he would have cast it aside long ago. But as things stood, he continued to train in secret, out of necessity.
Therefore, Ishida Ryūken never passed down the Quincy arts to his son. Even though young Uryū had been taught by his grandfather, Sōken-san, and showed deep interest in the ways of the Quincy, Ryūken never intended to nurture that path.
He had hoped that Uryū would walk the path of healing, becoming a doctor like himself—someone who saved lives, not one who hunted and destroyed. As for the Quincy legacy... he would bury it with his own hands.
"…Ah, right." Ryūken turned back to his desk and opened a drawer. From it, he pulled out a small black case. "Here. This should belong to your family."
He tossed it lightly to Amamiya Miyako.
Miyako caught it and opened the lid. Nestled within the case was a silver cross, faintly glowing in the light. He stared at it quietly, his grip tightening.
Just as he thought. The shape was identical to the Quincy cross that his Zanpakutō resonated with.
"…So it really was part of my family's legacy," Miyako murmured.
"Follow me." Ryūken didn't wait for a response and headed toward the exit.
Miyako blinked. "Eh? Where are we going, Ryūken-san?"
"You'll see."
They descended into the basement of Karakura Hospital, Ryūken leading the way. In a secluded corner, almost hidden in plain sight, he opened a door embedded into the wall.
What lay beyond wasn't just a simple basement.
The moment Miyako stepped through the threshold, he found himself standing in a blindingly white space—vast, empty, surrounded by towering reishi-constructed walls that shimmered faintly with spiritual energy. There was no roof, no visible end.
"This is…!"
"A reishi training chamber," Ryūken explained. "Constructed entirely out of compressed spirit particles. In here, no one can sense us. No one can interrupt."
Miyako felt his breath hitch. Yare yare… This was the same place from the original timeline—where Ryūken had helped Uryū regain his powers. So it still existed…
As expected of a pure-blood Quincy… Their control over reishi is insane.
"Let me be clear," Ryūken said, turning to face him with that ever-stern expression. "I'll teach. Whether you learn or not is entirely up to you. And don't forget what you promised me."
"Hai, Ryūken-san. I understand." Miyako nodded and clenched the silver cross in his palm.
"Then let's begin."
Ryūken reached inside his lab coat and pulled out his own Quincy Cross—a five-pointed star, refined and gleaming.
Miyako glanced at his own. A simple cross.
So his was different… Not the same five-pointed star. Not the traditional symbol of a Quincy. His must be the mark of a Gemischt, a mixed-blood Quincy. A remnant from those who left Yhwach's shadow centuries ago… or perhaps the signature of the Quincy bloodline scattered through the Human World.
"The fundamental skill of a Quincy," Ryūken began, raising his hand, "is the manipulation of reishi. Everything—a Quincy's offense, defense, and movement—stems from this principle."
As he spoke, his cross began to glow, bluish-white light pooling around it. In a few heartbeats, the reishi coalesced into a spiritual bow—streamlined, elegant, and sharp.
"Form your own reishi bow using your cross."
"Hai…" Miyako focused, drawing in the ambient spirit particles from the space around them. Slowly, they began to gather around his palm—hesitant, but steady.
"Since you can already perform Reishi Absorption, your basics are sound," Ryūken continued. "Now, control the size of your bow."
"The larger the bow, the stronger the arrows. But the longer it takes to form. The smaller it is, the faster your shots—but weaker. Of course, a true Quincy faces no such limitations once fully trained."
"Understood," Miyako nodded, trying to adjust the energy flow. The shape of his bow flickered—first large and clumsy, then thin and fragile.
Ryūken watched him with a critical eye. Then, without warning, he raised his own bow.
"Let's skip to the practical part," he said bluntly. "We'll fight."
"Eh?! W-wait, Ryūken-san—!"
Before Miyako could react, spiritual arrows began to materialize around Ryūken's bow—each one razor-sharp and blindingly fast. He fired.
The arrows streaked through the air like lightning bolts.
Miyako instinctively reached for his Zanpakutō—only to stop as Ryūken barked, "Don't draw your sword!"
"If you want to truly learn the Quincy path, then stop relying on a Shinigami's power!"
"Use your hands to gather reishi… and counter me with Heilig Pfeil—the Holy Arrows of Destruction!"
Miyako's heart pounded. The arrows closed in.
No Zanpakutō. No Kido.
Only the silver cross in his hand and the storm of spirit particles around him.
"Tch… so this is how a Quincy fights, huh…"
He gritted his teeth.
"Bring it on, Ryūken-san!"