"Here ya go," Shiba Kūkaku said, handing Amamiya-san a weathered wooden box as Koma shuffled forward with it in his arms. "Oi, let me warn you first—if you so much as tear a corner off these records… I'll make sure you regret it, got it?" Kūkaku clenched her remaining fist for emphasis, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
"Hai, wakatta. Arigatō, Kūkaku-san," Amamiya replied with a respectful bow. He knelt, carefully opening the box. The scent of old parchment and ink drifted up, a faint reminder of centuries past.
Page after page whispered between his fingers until— 'Found it…' His gaze sharpened. Soul Society Year XXX—Leader of the Quincy: Yhwach.
Converting it to the Human World calendar, the record aligned with 10XX—the year Yhwach led the Quincy to invade Soul Society. That same year, Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto formed the strongest strike force in history and crushed the Quincy army.
Amamiya-san's eyes narrowed. These were no vague legends—this was precise history. Not only did the documents recount that bloody campaign a thousand years ago, they also contained the Gotei 13's detailed research on Quincy abilities from that era.
And then… the most critical line appeared before him.
'Heilig Auswahl…' His breath caught. The annotation read: Holy Selection—a method by which Yhwach absorbs power from Quincy he deems 'impure,' transforming it into his own strength.
With this proof, he could tell Ishida Ryūken exactly what had happened back then.
Flipping to the next section, he found further Quincy techniques.
"Ransōtengai…" he murmured. A high-level Quincy art. By weaving countless reishi threads through one's body like a marionette's strings, even severed tendons or broken limbs can be forced to move. The ultimate reishi manipulation technique for combat.
The notes described how, a thousand years ago, countless Quincy warriors—unyielding and prepared to die—had used Ransōtengai to fight on even after mortal wounds, giving the Shinigami endless trouble. Yet once their king was slain, the surviving Quincy fell one by one.
'Unexpected…' Amamiya thought, his lips curving faintly. 'If I can learn Ransōtengai, my survivability will skyrocket.'
Another entry caught his attention.
"Quincy: Letzt Stil…" The text explained: by donning a sanrei glove, saturating oneself in highly concentrated reishi, and holding a drawn bow for seven days and seven nights, a Quincy could attain their highest form.
Amamiya's brow furrowed. This technique… Hundreds of years ago, the Wandenreich had already surpassed Letzt Stil, perfecting a superior form—Quincy: Vollständig. Though still taxing, Vollständig lacked the severe aftereffects of Letzt Stil.
The records continued: while Letzt Stil caused complete loss of Quincy abilities, recovery was possible—by pushing mind and body beyond their limits, then piercing the sinoatrial node of the heart 19 millimeters to the right with a reishi arrow.
'So maybe… Vollständig is reached by repeating Letzt Stil and recovery over and over, until one truly masters the submission of reishi,' Amamiya mused. It was a dangerous, grueling path—but plausible.
Then his expression darkened. But I'm only a soul now—no physical body. Even if he learned Letzt Stil, recovery like Ishida Uryū managed might be impossible.
"Chikusho… does that mean Vollständig is out of my reach?" he muttered. The thought sat bitter on his tongue.
After a long breath, he shut the file gently and placed it back in the box.
"Koma, I'm done. Please tell Kūkaku-san," he said, his voice steady again.
"Hai," Koma replied, carrying the box away.
Next time he visited the Human World, he would share this truth of a thousand years ago with Ishida Ryūken. As for Letzt Stil—he would at least ask. That power was not something he was ready to abandon.
But right now, his priority was the path before him as a Shinigami. Without even resolving his Shikai, there was no point in dreaming about Bankai or Vollständig.
Amamiya's gaze fell to the twin blades at his waist. He hadn't avoided his inner world these past days—in fact, he'd confronted his Zanpakutō spirit repeatedly.
But each meeting was… brutal. His Zanpakutō's attitude toward him remained sharp-edged, merciless in both words and blows.
"Yare yare… something's missing," Miyako muttered. This wasn't the kind of Shikai that could be unlocked just by fighting endlessly. No—something fundamental was lacking. Something he had yet to realize.
The twin blades remained silent, offering no answer, their sheaths cool and unyielding at his side.
That night, Miyako decided to leave the Shiba estate to find another place to train. But as he reached the entrance, a loud, boisterous voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Oi! Big sis! I'm back— I-I-I didn't exceed the time limit!"
Riding up on a massive wild boar was none other than Shiba Ganju, his nose still streaked with dried blood.
His face was flushed and flustered, and he stopped short when he spotted Miyako standing at the gate.
"You!? What are you doing here, Shinigami? Don't tell me you came to get revenge 'cause I badmouthed you last time!?"
Ganju jabbed a finger toward him. "Tch! Damn Shinigami, so narrow-minded!"
Miyako sighed. "Ganju-san… instead of badmouthing me, maybe you should think about how you're gonna explain yourself to your onee-san." He tilted his head slightly toward the shadow looming behind Ganju.
An ominous pressure filled the air.
Ganju's face froze. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned around. "B-b-b-big sis…"
"Keh… Ganju," Shiba Kūkaku said sweetly, though the clenched fist at her side told another story, "care to explain why you're so late?"
Ganju didn't even try to answer at first—he just dove forward, hugging her leg like his life depended on it.
"Big sis! Listen, it's not my fault! I ran into this weird Shinigami who disrespected me, so I had to teach him a lesson, y'know?!"
"Oh?" Kūkaku tilted her head. "And just who dared to anger my cute little brother?"
Ganju puffed up. "It's true! That orange, dandelion-headed Shinigami wasn't like the stuck-up ones from the Gotei 13! He mocked my Bonnie—called me a wild boar ape-man!"
"I see… anything else?" Kūkaku's smile turned sharp. "If not, I think it's about time I—"
"Big sis, no! I'm telling the truth!" Ganju's voice cracked, almost on the verge of tears.
Miyako decided to step in before Kūkaku pulverized him. "Kūkaku-san," he called, "I think Ganju-san's not lying this time."
She turned to him, eyebrow raised. "Hm?"
Ganju let out a relieved sigh. "I-I-I'm saved…" he muttered under his breath.
"That 'dandelion head' is probably Kurosaki Ichigo," Miyako continued. "If that's the case, they've already entered the Seireitei. They'll likely be here soon."
"…Sou ka." Kūkaku relaxed, releasing Ganju. "I'll let you off this time, Ganju." She turned and headed back into the estate.
"Kurosaki Ichigo…?" Ganju frowned, remembering the strange name that orange-haired guy had introduced himself with earlier.
He looked back at Miyako. "Oi, Shinigami. What's your business here anyway? Don't tell me the thing with Kuchiki Rukia's already over?"
Miyako shook his head. "We'll explain it together once everyone arrives." He turned, abandoning his earlier idea of training for the night, and stepped back into the Shiba estate.