Surveying Yammy's even more colossal frame, Amamiya Miyako understood immediately. The Décimo Espada had been gorging himself, consuming vast quantities of spiritual matter to fuel his unique form of growth.
"Yammy. I have a question for you."
"Hah? If it's a dying wish, I can humor you."
"To reach this state, you must have devoured countless of your own kind… and human souls, correct?" Miyako's voice was low, devoid of its usual calm curiosity.
"I don't keep count of Hollows. Do you remember every meal you eat? Humans… that was long ago." Yammy scoffed, not even bothering to draw the massive Zanpakuto at his waist, supremely confident in his bulk. "That your final question?"
"Is that so…" Miyako murmured, his gaze dropping. "The Quincy's hatred… it's not without reason. I'm beginning to understand it a little now." His voice grew colder, a sharp edge cutting through the desert air. "Especially since, as a Shinigami, my duty is to purify, not to eradicate. This…" His hands fell to the twin hilts at his hips. "This truly makes me…"
The blades shot from their sheaths, fusing and transforming in a flash of cold light into the sleek, massive form of his Shikai bow. "A little annoyed!"
He nocked and drew in one fluid motion, the arrowhead glowing with the distinct Rejection energy of his Zanpakuto. He didn't aim at Yammy's body, but at the unreleased sword in the giant's sash.
"Annoyed? You'll be a lot more than annoyed in a minute!" Yammy roared, still making no move to release. In his brutish logic, a Shinigami who had just fought Grimmjow couldn't possibly have much reiryoku left. This would be a quick crush.
The arrow struck Yammy's Zanpakuto hilt with a sound like a shattering bell. Miyako was almost surprised by how easily it connected. 'Did Aizen not brief them on my capabilities? No… impossible. So it's just this one. He's simply that dull.'
"Bankai," Miyako intoned, tossing the bow upwards. He sidestepped a slow, sweeping palm strike from Yammy that carried enough force to shatter stone. As he moved, he extended a hand, and a blade of condensed blue-white reishi—a pure Quincy spirit weapon—solidified in his grip.
Using a burst of Hirenkyaku, he streaked past the Espada's flank. The reishi sword carved a deep, searing gash from Yammy's knuckles all the way up to his shoulder, parting the dense Hierro as if it were mere cloth.
"GYAAAAAH!" Yammy bellowed, clutching his bleeding arm. He stared in dumbfounded rage at the glowing sword. He'd assumed it was a weak construct. The miscalculation was written in his own blood.
"Shinya Zetsumei - Jōmetsu Kyū!" Miyako's Bankai release command finally echoed. The bow, now hovering high above Yammy, expanded, its presence dominating the space. The giant looked up, confusion on his face.
It was already firing. A single arrow, humming with annihilating intent, shot straight down. Upon contact with Yammy's Hierro, it didn't pierce by force. Instead, it rejected the spiritual density of the hardened skin, passing through the flesh of his arm and then his thigh as if they were insubstantial mist, before finally embedding itself in the sand below.
"ROOOOARRRGH! DAMN YOU, SHINIGAMI!" The wounds weren't large, but the sensation—a complete negation of his defense—was maddening. The pain was secondary to the insult.
"I'LL CRUSH YOU!" Finally, belatedly, fury overrode his arrogance. He fumbled for his Zanpakuto. "Rage, Ira!"
He gripped the hilt and roared. Nothing happened. The blade remained inert, a mere oversized piece of metal.
"…Huh?" Yammy blinked, staring at the sword in his hand, then shook it as if it were malfunctioning.
"How utterly foolish. You didn't even listen to the intelligence report. A beast remains a beast," Miyako stated coldly, appearing beside Yammy's right arm in another blur of motion. His reishi sword flashed, aiming not for a killing blow, but for the tendons of the wrist. "Even if Aizen evolved you, gave you human form and speech, the mind inside is still that of a primitive, devouring thing."
Yammy roared again, dropping the Zanpakuto from his numbed hand, only to clumsily catch it with the other. An arrow from the autonomous Jōmetsu Kyū streaked in, grazing his throat and drawing a line of dark blood.
"Pity. That was meant for your eye. I wonder if you'd still be roaring with your brain pierced," Miyako taunted, maintaining a cold, analytical distance.
Yammy hunched over, panting, blood dripping onto the white sand. Rage and confusion warred in his small eyes. "Shinigami… what did you DO?!"
Miyako offered no explanation. If his opponent was ignorant of his Zanpakuto's sealing ability, he would simply reapply it periodically, locking the Espada in his weakest state indefinitely. He pressed the attack, a whirlwind of blue light.
The reishi sword slashed and stabbed, opening wound after wound. Yammy could only bat feebly at him with his unreleased sword, his movements too slow, his attempts to grab the swift Shinigami futile. He was being methodically carved apart, his immense strength rendered useless by his inability to access his true power.
From a ridge of crystal a distance away, Nnoitra Gilga watched, a sneer of utter contempt on his face. The Quinto Espada had observed the entire farcical engagement.
"Yammy, you blithering idiot," he spat. "It's bad enough you didn't listen during the briefing. Now you can't even adapt? Pathetic."
He had been intrigued by this Shinigami—one who had survived Aizen's attention and then defeated Grimmjow even while wounded. Nnoitra thirsted to crush such a strong opponent himself. But he had no interest in a "fair" fight. Letting the oafish Yammy bleed the Shinigami's energy first suited his cruel pragmatism perfectly.
"At this rate, that waste won't even tire him out," Nnoitra muttered, his four extra arms twitching with anticipation. The time to intervene was nearing.
Back in the makeshift arena, Yammy was a bleeding, roaring mess. "DAMN IT! DAMN IT! WHY WON'T IT WORK?! I'D HAVE CRUSHED YOU ALREADY!" His roars were undercut by the sheer number of gashes covering his body.
It was then Miyako felt it—a new, sharp, and malicious reiatsu approaching rapidly. 'Nnoitra? Why would he involve himself with Yammy's fight?'
His answer came a second later. A strange, double-crescent bladed weapon—Santa Teresa—came shrieking through the air, aimed not at Yammy, but directly at Miyako's head.
Miyako brought his reishi sword up in a two-handed parry. CLANG! The force of the impact vibrated up his arms. The weapon rebounded, arcing back through the air to be caught by a slender, multi-armed figure who dropped down between him and the wounded Yammy.
"Yammy, you brainless lump of garbage!" Nnoitra snarled, not even glancing at his fellow Espada. "The report said his Zanpakuto seals others, you moron! And you just stood there and let him hit it! What a useless waste of an Espada number!"