"Tch… twin blades, huh? What a waste lettin' Renji have him," Madarame Ikkaku muttered, sounding almost regretful.
"Oi, didn't you just agree to it yourself, Ikkaku-san? Now you're complaining?" Ayasegawa Yumichika tilted his head, his tone amused.
"There aren't many ryōtō users in the Gotei 13. Fighting a completely different style like that… that's a rare opportunity, you know."
"He's from the Thirteenth Division, right? As long as he stays in Seireitei, you'll get your chance sooner or later," Yumichika replied with a faint smile.
A younger Eleventh Division member leaned closer. "3rd Seat Madarame, 5th Seat Ayasegawa… this Amamiya-san seems… different."
"Huh? You think I need you to tell me that?" Ikkaku snorted. "Just watchin' his match with Renji's more than enough proof." His eyes stayed locked on the two clashing figures on the training field.
"That's not what I mean," the member pressed. "We checked into him. The Thirteenth Division didn't have an officially appointed Fukutaichō until recently. Then this Amamiya-san suddenly got the position."
"Oh?" Ikkaku's eyes narrowed. "That so? What's his story?"
"They say Amamiya Miyako spent four years at Shin'ō Academy, qualified for early graduation, entered the Thirteenth Division, and became Vice Captain in less than two years. A real prodigy."
"…What?!" Ikkaku's voice rose in a sharp bark. "Oi, you're tellin' me we just handed over a fight with a genius like Hitsugaya-taichō to Renji?!"
His gaze sharpened, trying to measure the depth of Amamiya's reiatsu through his movements.
On the field, Abarai Renji was relentless, pressing forward again and again. But each time, Amamiya met the blows with clean, precise parries—two blades working in perfect coordination.
'Damn it… these twin blades…' Renji thought, every strike deflected before it could land. The rhythm was frustrating—Amamiya's blades didn't just block, they redirected, bleeding away his momentum.
On the other hand, Amamiya studied Renji in silence. His opponent dodged many of his counters, but not because he read the attacks. No… it felt like instinct—raw and animal-like.
'Instinct like a wild beast, huh…' Amamiya thought, tightening his grip. 'But instinct alone won't save you from me.'
He shifted into offense, his twin blades moving in sharp arcs, forcing Renji into retreat step by step. Since confronting his own Zanpakutō spirit, his control over ryōtō had evolved. Now, every movement was sharper, more fluid.
Renji managed to force him back for a moment, but Amamiya immediately closed the gap.
Lowering both blades to his waist, he dashed forward, drawing one in a sudden upward slash. Renji's Zabimaru caught the blow, but Amamiya used the recoil to leap, landing above him.
The downward thrust came fast—Renji dodged sideways, only for the second blade to cut in from the flank.
Steel clashed as Renji blocked, but Amamiya flipped his grip on the first blade mid-motion, stabbing sideways again.
"Oi… it's like watchin' a tornado," Ikkaku muttered, eyes gleaming.
Amamiya's style—switching between normal and reverse grips—broke every rhythm of standard Zanjutsu. There was no easy pattern to read.
"Renji's on the back foot," Yumichika observed.
"No doubt about it," Ikkaku agreed, though his grin didn't fade.
Renji stumbled slightly. Amamiya's gaze sharpened—this was the opening.
'Too close to rush without giving him time to reset…' In a flash, Amamiya hurled one blade straight at Renji.
'Nani?! He actually threw his zanpakutō?!' Abarai Renji's eyes widened in disbelief. He had never seen such a reckless yet precise fighting style before, and his instincts screamed danger.
Still off-balance, Renji swung Zabimaru to deflect the incoming blade, the clang echoing sharply across the training yard. His arm trembled from the impact.
In that split second, Amamiya Miyako's figure blurred. With a sharp thunk, his foot smashed into Renji's sword arm, forcing it wide. His other hand snapped up, catching the spinning blade midair as if it had never left his grasp.
One blade swept Zabimaru aside, the other halted just at the side of Renji's neck, its cold edge resting against his skin.
"The match is decided," Miyako said softly, his voice calm yet absolute.
Renji froze, his pride stinging more than his body. Losing in Zanjutsu—the art he took pride in—was a bitter pill to swallow.
From the sidelines, Ikkaku Madarame's grin widened. "Oi! Good! Now it's my turn, kid!"
Without hesitation, he stepped forward, the gleam in his eyes betraying his eagerness.
"Oi, Ikkaku-san… I—" Renji began, still catching his breath, but his words were cut off by a loud, rough voice from outside the dojo.
"Oi, what's with all the noise? You guys throwin' a party without me?"
A hush fell instantly.
"C-Captain… Captain Kenpachi!" Several Eleventh Division members scrambled to bow as the towering figure of Zaraki Kenpachi strode in, his reiatsu flaring like a storm.
"So… a fight, huh?" Kenpachi's grin revealed his sharp teeth. "And you didn't even call me. Tch, boring."
His single eye drifted over to Renji's discarded Zabimaru, then to Miyako. "Oi, Renji, you lost already?"
Renji clenched his jaw but said nothing.
Kenpachi's gaze settled fully on Miyako, his grin widening. "Interesting… kid, what's your name?"
Miyako slid his twin zanpakutō back into their sheaths in a smooth motion. "Thirteenth Division Vice Captain, Amamiya Miyako. Yoroshiku, Kenpachi-taichō."
"Vice Captain, huh? So you came here to challenge the Eleventh Division dojo? Then I'll give ya a proper welcome!"
"Captain, let me!" Ikkaku quickly interjected, stepping between them. "You don't gotta fight him yet, Kenpachi-taichō!"
He knew if Kenpachi fought, it'd be over in a heartbeat.
But Miyako simply shook his head. "Not today. Let's call it a day."
"What?!" Ikkaku's eyebrows shot up. "You tryin' to run away?"
"Not at all. The match with Madarame-san will happen—next time. I'll come back," Miyako said evenly. "As for sparring with Kenpachi-taichō… I know my limits."
He glanced at Kenpachi's towering frame. "Besides, the rules of Seireitei state that captains can't just casually engage in combat without cause. Kenpachi-taichō knows that, right?"
Kenpachi snorted. "Tch, you're one of those types, huh? Always rememberin' those boring rules of the Gotei 13. I hate that." His voice rumbled with disappointment, though his grin remained.
From behind him, a small pink head popped into view. "Ne, Ken-chan, what a shame~," chirped Yachiru-chan, dangling lazily from his shoulder.
"There's one more thing," Miyako said, his tone firm. "I'd appreciate it if Kenpachi-taichō could tell his division members not to mock other divisions without reason."
Kenpachi tilted his head, his smile turning sharper. "Mocking, huh? So they've been wastin' time on trash talk instead of trainin'? Sounds like I've been goin' too easy on them."
The nearby Eleventh Division members paled instantly, their bodies trembling at the dangerous glint in their captain's eye.
Kenpachi chuckled. "Hmph… I like your guts, kid. Fightin' back instead of bowin' your head. Not bad."
Miyako gave a slight bow. "3rd Seat Madarame, I'll see you again soon. We'll have a proper fight then." Without another word, he turned and walked out, the clack of his sandals fading into the distance.
Ikkaku watched him go, the excitement in his eyes burning. "Heh… interesting. Can't wait for next time."
Kenpachi scratched the side of his head, his grin fading slightly. "Tch… interesting, yet boring. The kid's strong, but too bound by rules. Won't give me the kinda fight I want… not yet."
Even so, a flicker of curiosity lingered in Kenpachi's mind. A vice captain from the Thirteenth Division who had just taken down Renji in Zanjutsu—not bad. But still too green.
Until Miyako could throw the rules away and fight with everything he had, Kenpachi knew it wouldn't be worth drawing his sword.
For now.