Ishida Ryūken stood in silence, his brows slightly furrowed behind his glasses.
The "silver" in Amamiya Miyako's body—its unusually high concentration—still lingered in his mind. Was it connected to Miyako's emotional state before death? Possibly. But without more data, it was only a theory. He would need to examine more corpses… more Quincy. More proof.
I came here to investigate this man's strange death, Ryūken thought. But to find his soul still intact…? Every other Quincy I've examined—pure-blood or mixed-blood—left no soul behind. They vanished without a trace after death.
He narrowed his eyes.
Why is this one different? Why did this soul remain…? Amamiya Miyako… What are you hiding?
But before he could consider the broader implications, he turned to the more immediate matter. Hollows had already sensed Miyako's presence. If Ryūken left him unattended, another attack was inevitable.
I should perform a soul burial… send him to Soul Society. But then, he paused.
...He saw my powers. If he talks, it might stir trouble in Soul Society. Even if the Shinigami had stopped watching the Quincy, caution was still necessary.
As Ryūken brooded in silence, Miyako had his own thoughts swirling.
Why does Ishida Ryūken know my name? Did the original Amamiya Miyako know him? Was I... a Quincy? The more he thought, the more yabai it felt.
Wait, wait. Could this be after the Seireitei Invasion? After Yhwach's "Auskülen"? If so… then most of the Quincy were wiped out. Only the Ishida family should've survived.Could I have died during Holy Selection? And Ryūken's here because of something that made me… special?
He bit his lip.
Was I the only one whose soul survived? A mixed-blood Quincy…?
Unknowingly, Miyako had already stumbled onto the truth.
Yes—he had died during the Holy Selection. And yes—he was the only known Quincy, mixed-blood or otherwise, whose soul did not vanish after death.
Ryūken turned to him, calm but stern.
"From here, I will have someone send you to Soul Society. It's the afterlife where most souls go," Ryūken explained, his voice crisp. "Staying in the Human World like this… will only make you Hollow bait."
Miyako gulped.
"But I ask one thing of you." Ryūken's eyes glinted. "Once you arrive in Soul Society… you will say nothing about what happened today. Not about me. Not about what you saw."
Miyako nodded solemnly.
He's right… he thought. If this is the Bleach world, Soul Society isn't exactly sunshine and rainbows. Speaking about Quincy to the wrong person could mean execution… or worse.
"Hai… I understand, Ishida-san. I won't speak a word."
Ryūken gave a short nod. In truth, he hadn't wanted to contact him again. Not that man.
Urahara Kisuke…
He had once owed him a debt for saving Masaki's life. That debt had been paid. Ryūken had every intention of severing ties with Shinigami forever.
But now...
If this soul—this Quincy—was truly an anomaly, and if the "silver" was a clue to something more… he couldn't handle it alone.
Ryūken pulled out his phone. He stared at a number he had never dialed.
Tch. I really didn't want to do this again…
He tapped the screen.
"Urahara. It's Ishida. There's something I need you to handle."
Meanwhile, Miyako tilted his head.
Eh? Kisuke Urahara?Then that really is Karakura Town. Well, that's something at least.
As scary as Soul Society is, it's better than staying here. At least I won't be eaten alive by some Hollow on the street. I'll figure the rest out after I arrive.
Minutes passed.
Then—thud.
A light breeze blew as a man wearing a striped green and white bucket hat tapped his cane just outside the window.
"Yare yare… It's been a while, Ryūken-san. I didn't think you'd be the one to call me," Urahara Kisuke said with a playful glint in his eye, hiding half his face behind his folding fan. "Truly, I'm touched. What do you need from this humble shopkeeper?"
"Enough with the games, Urahara," Ishida Ryūken replied coldly. "I want you to perform a Konso on this soul."
Urahara's gaze shifted to the young spirit standing nearby. "Aa, what a shame... So young, and already passed on? What a waste," he said, exaggerated sympathy dripping from his voice.
Amamiya Miyako frowned slightly. That tone—half-mocking, half-teasing—made him want to punch something.
"But Ryūken-san, for you to personally bring him here… is this boy special?" Urahara asked as he lowered his head and peered at Miyako with half-lidded eyes, sharp despite the cheerful façade. A faint trace of seriousness flashed beneath his cap.
Amamiya Miyako said nothing. In this situation, silence was safest. Anything he said could raise suspicion.
"...The duty of sending souls to the Soul Society belongs to the Shinigami," Ryūken said flatly, folding his arms. "Have you forgotten that, or has living in the Human World dulled your senses?"
Urahara's fan fluttered shut with a sigh. "Still as icy as ever, Ryūken-san. But you see, I'm hardly a welcome face in Seireitei these days. If it comes out that I've been performing Konso, I might find myself... erased."
"Spare me the excuses. Just do it."
Urahara raised a brow, but didn't argue further. "Hai hai… Understood."
He turned to Amamiya Miyako and gave a gentler smile. "Try to relax, shōnen. It's not painful. Just… a little strange."
Then, his smile dropped. "And listen closely—what happened here, and who sent you… you must not speak of it. Zettai ni. Not to anyone in Soul Society. Understood?"
Amamiya Miyako gave a solemn nod. He knew the rules. He also knew the dangers of breaking them.
"I won't say a word," he said.
Urahara gave a satisfied nod. Then he tapped the ground lightly with his cane. With a small shift, the top came off, revealing the hidden zanpakutō within. He raised the handle and gently pressed the hilt against Miyako's forehead.
A faint glow surrounded Miyako's soul. Slowly, his form began to blur, his reiryoku shifting, being pulled into another realm.
"This is it… Soul Society," Miyako thought. "I'll survive there. I have to."
With a soft shimmer, Amamiya Miyako disappeared.
Urahara stood in silence for a moment, looking at the spot where the boy had vanished. Then he turned back to Ishida Ryūken.
"You really trust that he'll keep his mouth shut?"
"I trust that he values his own survival," Ryūken replied curtly. "You should too."
"Sou ka…" Urahara chuckled, though the sound lacked warmth. "Still, Ryūken-san, that boy… He's tied to those unexplained spiritual disappearances, isn't he?"
"That's none of your concern."
"Come on now. I heard from Kurosaki-san. June 17th—your wife, Masaki-san, and others… all gone on the same day." Urahara's tone dropped. "And now this boy. Tell me… what really happened that day?"
Ryūken's hands clenched at his sides.
"Enough, Urahara. Don't speak her name so lightly."
Urahara looked at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed, the teasing mask gone. Then he gave a short bow.
"Wakarimashita. I'll go."
With that, he leapt lightly out the window, disappearing into the night with only the sound of rustling leaves behind him.
Ryūken stood still, the weight of memory heavy on his shoulders. For a while, he said nothing.
Then, remembering why he came, he turned and began investigating the room.
It was a simple space. Clean, modest. But something caught his eye—a small black box tucked deep in a corner, covered by a layer of dust.
He opened it.
Inside was a single item: a silver Quincy cross pendant. It lay quiet and still, glowing faintly under the moonlight, as though waiting.
"…As I thought," Ryūken murmured.
A Quincy Cross. If Amamiya Miyako wasn't a full Quincy, then at least he carried the blood. Mixed blood, most likely. That would explain why his soul lingered after death. The others… none of them left souls behind. But he did.
Ryūken closed the box and slipped it into his coat pocket.
"There's still more to uncover."
With that, he leapt out the window just as Urahara had, vanishing into the night.