The night was quiet in Karakura Town when Ishida Uryū returned home. He glanced toward his father's room, hesitation flickering across his face before he finally stepped forward.
Normally, he would never approach Ishida Ryūken. Father and son lived their lives apart, each buried in their own world, their relationship an empty shell. But what Amamiya Miyako had told him back in Soul Society still weighed on his heart, pushing him toward this confrontation.
He raised his hand, knocked on the door once, and opened it without waiting for an answer.
Ryūken's cold voice greeted him. "Entering another person's room without permission is extremely impolite, Uryū. I thought I raised you better." He pushed his glasses up his nose with his usual detached air.
"Is that so?" Uryū replied flatly. "I don't remember learning that lesson."
His tone was biting, almost rude—something rare for him, but inevitable when standing before his father.
Ryūken stared silently at his son, recognizing the deliberate disrespect. From years of quiet observation, he knew his boy was polite, intelligent, and well-mannered. Only when it came to him did Uryū bare this sharp edge of defiance.
"I already know you went to the Soul Society in secret," Ryūken said, voice calm but cutting. "But what surprises me most is that you came here willingly. Usually, you'd avoid me."
"What…?" Uryū stiffened. He hadn't expected his father to notice. He had always believed Ryūken was indifferent to his life, unconcerned with his choices.
"And…" Ryūken's eyes narrowed, sensing his son's spiritual state in an instant. "Have you already lost your Quincy abilities?"
Uryū froze.
Ryūken frowned deeply. Did he use the Sanrei Glove…? His thoughts churned. Why would Sōken give that to him…
Uryū remained silent, unsettled by how easily his father had seen through him.
"This is good," Ryūken said firmly, returning his attention to the book in his hand. "If you've lost your Quincy powers, then leave it that way. I'll say it again: saving the dead is meaningless. Use your talents to save the living. Learn medicine from me, Uryū. That's the only path that matters."
He turned a page with deliberate calm, but inwardly, he was already resolved—he would never tell his son the method of regaining Quincy powers. This was the chance he had been waiting for to make Uryū abandon that path forever.
Uryū clenched his fists tightly. As expected, his father still rejected Quincy powers with all his being. The stubborn belief was unshakable.
And yet, Uryū could not forget his grandfather's wish, nor his own conviction to protect the innocent.
"You… you have a way to restore me!" Uryū's eyes sharpened. He decided to test him, to force the truth out.
Ryūken's hand faltered for the briefest moment before resuming its calm page-turning.
"That reaction… so Miyako was right," Uryū muttered. His chest tightened with complicated emotions.
"What did you say?" Ryūken asked, his brows furrowing.
"Amamiya Miyako," Uryū answered. "He told me you had a way to restore my Quincy power."
"Tch. That busybody again." Ryūken clicked his tongue irritably. The thought of an outsider meddling in his family affairs grated on him, no matter how accurate the meddling might be.
"Ryūken!" Uryū demanded, stepping closer. "Tell me how to restore my Quincy power after using the Sanrei Glove!"
His father's expression remained cold. "What that man said is irrelevant. Even if such a method exists, I will not tell you."
Uryū's jaw tightened. "…Then I'll give you the message he asked me to deliver."
Ryūken's eyes narrowed. A message… from Amamiya Miyako? His heart skipped. Could it be…?
Uryū repeated the words exactly as they had been entrusted to him:
"The timing is just right. That man's return cannot be stopped. As the only unharmed mixed-blood, he should at least have the power to protect himself."
The air in the room thickened. Ryūken's composed mask shattered, his face twisting with an expression Uryū had never seen before—an anger, a dread, and something else buried deep.
...
After hearing those words, Ishida Ryūken instantly understood what Amamiya Miyako meant. His suspicion had been right all along. Six years ago—his wife's mysterious coma… Kurosaki Masaki's strange death at the hands of a Hollow… All of it, everything, pointed back to that man.
The King of the Quincy. Yhwach!
With a sharp thud, Ryūken closed his book and slammed it onto the table, his usually calm demeanor breaking for the first time in years.
He rose to his feet, eyes burning, and grabbed Uryū firmly by the shoulders. "What else did that man say?!" Ryūken demanded, his voice trembling with fury.
Uryū had never seen his father like this. Not when his mother fell into a coma. Not even when his grandfather, Sōken, had passed away. But now—over a single sentence from Miyako—his father was shaking with rage.
"He… he didn't say anything else. He only told me to bring you this message…" Uryū stammered, overwhelmed by the intensity in his father's tone.
Ryūken froze, then slowly released his son's shoulders. Without another word, he turned away, his face sinking back into its usual cold expression. He sat again, his back now facing Uryū.
Uryū swallowed, realizing in that moment that Miyako must have touched upon something far deeper than he understood. He stayed quiet, waiting.
Ryūken's thoughts swirled like a storm. For Miyako to send Uryū with such a message… it meant the boy had uncovered fragments of the truth from a thousand years ago. And worse, Miyako had pointed directly at Yhwach.
Even more unsettling was the mention of the mixed-blood Quincy. That was knowledge Ryūken himself had only pieced together after years of investigation. Aside from Kurosaki Masaki, every Quincy who had mysteriously perished had been of mixed lineage. He had never shared that with Miyako—yet the young man had already found it out.
"Ryūken…" Uryū muttered softly, watching his father's tense frame. He wanted to press further, but he sensed the timing was wrong.
Finally, Ryūken turned again, his gaze firm and unyielding. "Uryū… I can help you restore your Quincy powers."
"What!? Are you serious!?" Uryū's eyes widened, a surge of hope rushing through him.
Ryūken nodded coldly. "But it won't be free. In return… you must swear never again to involve yourself with Shinigami."
"What did you just say?" Uryū blurted, stunned. It was as if the words didn't register.
"You heard me," Ryūken repeated, his voice like ice. "Draw a clear line between yourself and the Shinigami. Only then will I restore your power."
The firm, unwavering tone left Uryū frozen in place. His heart was torn.
Before he realized it, he had stumbled back to his own room, still in shock. He hadn't agreed… but he hadn't refused either.
Back in the study, Ryūken clenched his fist tightly as he stared out the window, his voice low, almost trembling.
"…Yhwach…"