Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Uryū stood before the ruler of the Quincies in the cold semi-darkness of the throne room.

“Speak.”

“Your Majesty told me that…a father would gladly help his child achieve their endeavors.”

“You remember correctly.”

“…I believe attaining my Vollständig will help in the efforts of conquering the Seireitei. Your guidance would help me succeed in this task.”

“Is that your request?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Ask again.”

He looked up in surprise. Was this a mind game?

Yhwach smiled. “I think there’s a far simpler question you’re trying to ask me, my son, but manners and ranks are in the way. So dispense with all the unnecessary words cluttering the message.”

“…”

“Go on, Uryū. Ask me...”

“…”

“…The unadorned question.”

“Will…you…help me?”

“Yes.”

It was an exchange that haunted him in quiet moments.

The asking…

The answering…

The part of him that wanted to ask for help now.

Because…

He’d probably answer.

He’d promised.

All he had to do was call out for help and it would be granted.

Yhwach didn’t lie.

He didn’t need to.

With his help, Uryū could leave the police station through shadow transportation and travel to Hokkaido…get the disc…break it…

The only problem was—

“Uryū?” A warm hand gently turned his face so he could focus on...him, the problem.

The one it was getting harder to lie to and run from.

“Uryū, you can tell me…tell me what happened. I need to know.”

Because Ryūken knew it would be easier to tell this part to him versus looking at the officers while he spoke.

Less distracting.

Dad wasn’t very emotive.

Dr. Snowman…with his frozen face of vague disinterest.

Nothing ever shocked him.

Somehow, through a mix of comic books and movies and other media, Uryū thought he could make it through the meeting with the officers like normal humans did. Always figured he’d be more composed than any of his friends if put in a similar position.

He spoke about the attack at the end of middle school.

How he’d thought he’d been punched at first.

How he’d ran back in. Inside the school.

Told Junya to call the police and have them waiting at the train station.

How it wasn’t until Junya pointed it out…

Pointing at it.

The knife handle in his shoulder.

That it registered…what had really happened.

How surprising it was.

“Really hated me. Planned it. I…I ran to the train station. He chased me. Police were there. Waiting as Junya instructed. They got him. I…I felt good that they got him but I was…scared.”

“Completely understandable,” Officer Miura offered.

“I should’ve told them. They hadn’t noticed yet that I was…had been stabbed. But…I wanted…Dad…he’s a doctor…” He blinked on realizing that he was talking about Dad to Dad in a third-person, instead of second-person, way.

His hair was brushed back from his forehead.

“Yes,” Ryūken agreed.

“He would know what to do. So I went to call him. But the receptionist didn’t recognize my voice. It deepened since the last time I’d…they wouldn’t just connect me. They usually connect me. I had to give the extension. I was almost done…then there were screams. Horrific screaming. And everyone was… I…” No. Wait. He couldn’t tell them the spirit ribbon part. How he felt the change between a soul being alive and then dead. “I just knew…and I was right. And I left.”

“You just left?” Miura replied incredulously.

He nodded. “Went back to my apartment. Stayed there.”

“With a knife in your shoulder?!” Officer Sahashi was aghast.

Did that part not make sense?

“I have certificates for first aid,” he explained softly. He renewed them every year. Because it was the responsible thing to do. For himself. For his community.

“You treated yourself?”

He nodded. “But…not good enough. Messy.” He’d get better at it. Hollows and Shinigami and other more mundane threats would ensure that.

“No shit.” Sahashi shook his head in disbelief.

His gaze lowered to his father’s left shoulder. “Had to go to the hospital.”

“And?” Ryūken prompted.

“Went to the hospital.”

“Which hospital?” Ryūken asked.

He frowned, not understanding the question, “Dad’s… yours, of course.”

“Would the security footage confirm that?” Officer Sahashi asked.

“It was several years ago. Typically, we only store 30 to 90 days.” Ryūken sounded bitter.

“Why did you leave before receiving treatment?” Miura asked.

Uryū stared. “You won’t understand.”

“Try us.”

“News,” he replied.

“On the TVs in the lobby?” Ryūken guessed.

“News.”

“Made you go?” Ryūken frowned.

“Angry.”

“The news made you angry so you left…the hospital that could treat you?” Ryūken frowned.

See? They wouldn’t get it.

“They… they kept saying… nice things about him.”

Ryūken’s eyes widened slightly. “Aso.”

“So I went there.”

“Went there?” his father repeated back in confusion. “Where?”

“I went there…to where they kept…lying…”

“To the wake?”

Miura murmured, “You make a scene?”

He vaguely recalled screaming at the organizers of it. “…Yeah.”

“Then you left?”

“Yeah.”

“Then what happened?”

“I went back to my apartment and they broke down my door, wait! No, no… studied and took my exam. I’m Class Rank One. Can’t sacrifice my position. Wait. Emailed for a makeup test and forged a note from Dad and then took my exam. I can’t remember the test. Sorry. But I did well. I studied. Aced it. I’m good at test-taking. I’m very good. Kept my rank. I went back and then they broke my door. The chains snapped. My glasses…I lost my glasses. I don’t remember a lot of this part. I was inside. Then, I was outside.” He briefly talked to Junya, making his request to edit the videos because he’d clearly pissed someone off at the wake or maybe the school board or some thugs or the apartment complex or something and he knew his friends would be in danger next unless he did something. Unless he separated from them. But he wasn’t ready to talk about that yet. “…Then I was in a truck. Then I was…Hagino asked my blood type.”

“Why didn’t you tell Hagino who you were?”

“You said something before about Mom’s necklace,” Ryūken mentioned.

He’d told him that? He was slipping up. Damn it.

He confirmed it. “I wouldn’t get Mom’s necklace back if I told.”

“Who said that?”

Uryū rubbed at his forehead where pressure seemed to be building. “I don’t know. Truck guy? He took my wallet.”

“He stole from you?”

Uryū frowned. “No. I got my things back.”

“How?”

“I…I dunno. When I went back I guess. I don’t remember this part either. I’m sorry. It was raining.”

“No, it’s alright.”

“Why do you think Aso attacked you?”

He stared at Dad who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

He took over. He started talking about rising escalation. Bullying. Adult versus child. Teacher versus student.

But then the investigators wanted him to comment on Aso and there was such a surge of indignation and anger and helplessness.

And it felt like being thirteen again. Up on the fourth floor.

“What’s wrong, tough guy? Not so tough? Oh wait, is this your hurt wrist? Is it?” He squeezed and Uryū cried out. He caught Uryū’s other hand as he tried to punch him. “And this is the stronger one? Aww. Not so strong, huh?”

Somehow, he wound up vomiting into the office’s tiny refuse bin.

Somehow, he wound up on the floor.

Somehow, he found himself in the corner of the room on the floor…because all the windows were barred and Isshin was guarding the door. His shoulders pressed hard against converging walls. Arms wrapped around knees. Head against knees. Glasses pressing hard against his face.

Somehow that happened.

That hadn’t happened even in the presence of Yhwach. Even after executions that splattered red on white.

He couldn’t stop shaking or sniffling. It was like being thirteen and hiding under his dad’s desk at home because he was terrified.

He was overreacting.

He needed to get a hold of himself and he couldn’t.

He felt like he was thirteen again calling out for help and no one was coming. Again.

It was a breakdown. But not a complete mental collapse. His mind was still here; it was just his body disobeying.

The weird part was, he wasn’t alone in the corner. Dad was there blocking him from view, barking orders at the room like this office was just an extension of his hospital.

And through the gap in Ryūken’s arms, he could see his father’s work laptop was on the ground sideways—a crack through the screen had resulted in a myriad of multicolored lines.

How did that happen?

Uryū hadn’t bumped it, had he? He didn’t remember. He didn’t think so. But that would mean Dad had dropped it.

Dad didn’t drop things.

Certainly not work things.

There were patient records there.

It was a work laptop.

It was broken.

Was that his fault? He didn’t remember touching it.

He still apologized and was called silly because he had nothing to do with the broken laptop.

But that meant that Dad had dropped it.

Somehow.

Uryū was cleaned up with towels. And he was given rice porridge and room temperature water.

Dad was in doctor mode.

He tugged a sleeve of his father’s linen shirt that should’ve been more pressed and less sweaty.

His father was sweating. There were sweat stains at the arms and neck and back.

How could he find this room hot? Uryū was freezing.

Maybe he was coming down with something? Since he was experiencing chills.

And if Ryūken was his primary physician, he could make requests.

“Daaad?”

“Yes?”

“My head hurts.”

He was given painkillers.

“I’m cold.”

He was given a blanket.

“I’m…” Scared. That was stupid. Aso was gone. He should be more scared of the nameless faceless people who set up the hit and were still lurking somewhere.

It wasn’t a doctor’s job to offer comfort. They offered treatment. Pills and results.

But he was also his dad…

“I’m…scared of him, Dad.”

“Aso?”

“He can’t hurt you,” Miura assured. “I remember that one.”

“Lots of pieces,” Sahashi followed up. “He’s not coming after you again, kid.”

“Daaad.”

He wanted Dad to tell him—

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Ryūken promised.

“Can you tell us why he had it out for you?” Miura asked.

Everything leading up to the train and then the Hollow and then darkness flashed behind his eyes and made him dizzy.

He remembered firing the arrow…

The marble went tap, tap…

He couldn’t move.

The marble went tap, tap…

He could move.

The trick was doubling back. Out the window again, it was almost funny. Except it was terrifying.

Breathing got harder.

“Sumiko Fuji,” Ryūken answered succinctly, stepping in again so Uryū wouldn’t have to talk anymore.

Ryūken pulled into the garage and parked. He unfastened his seatbelt, exited the car, and walked over to the passenger side.

Thankfully, as everything came to a head earlier, Isshin had stepped up to assist him.

“Okay, kiddos!” Isshin clapped his hands together. “Field trip time! Let’s go!”

“No, we’re all going. We want answers from Uryū,” Ichigo declared.

Ryūken glowered. “No. I’m going to Uryū and you’re going to leave him room. And when he’s ready, he will talk to you all—”

“That’s not good enough!” Ichigo shouted. “I’m sick of him getting secretive when something’s wrong—”

“You will wait!” he snarled, blocking his nephew from storming past him. “You will think of him first and not yourself!”

“I-I am thinking of him!” Ichigo spluttered indignantly.

“Then you won’t confront him like this.”

Brown eyes narrowed. “You’re going to-”

“I’m his father,” he snapped. “He doesn’t have to put on a brave face for me. I don’t want him hurting himself trying to hold together for you. Because he’s strong and reliable and you admire him and he won’t want to let you down. I won’t allow you to hurt him with your expectations! He’s suffered enough.”

“…”

“You…ALL of you will wait.” Satisfied that no one else would challenge him, he finished with, “I must go now.”

He’d have to ask Isshin how he managed to get them all to leave the house and still arrived at the police station soon after. Right now all that mattered was that they were gone.

He opened the door, unfastened his son’s seatbelt, and asked if Uryū wanted to walk or be carried.

He’d carried him to the car back at the precinct but could tell his son’s pride had been wounded by the action.

Kanae could be that way. Tangled in her steadfast grandiose belief of her own strength and appalled when she fell short.

It was all rather silly in his opinion. What good was his strength for if he couldn’t catch and carry his loved ones when they needed him?

Still, he didn’t like to injure their sense of honor and self-esteem.

He was trying to make up for it by being attentive now.

Uryū managed to get out of the car unassisted and close the car door. He stood for three seconds and then his legs began to buckle.

“Ransōten-”

“No.” Ryūken scooped him up. One arm under the legs and the other supporting his back.

This was the difference though.

He might’ve had to suffer his wife’s stubborn sense of duty to ensure she felt properly respected as an equal.

But this was their child.

He could override foolishness whenever harm might result.

It was his right as a parent.

Carrying him wasn’t difficult. He was very light.

“Embarrassing,” his son muttered.

Ryūken frowned as he opened the door and moved them inside. “Why?”

“Pathetic.”

“What are you talking about? Your bravery was impressive. Everyone was impressed by how resilient you are. They had nothing but compliments for me about you. Didn’t you hear?”

“…I threw up. I panicked.”

“PTSD. Not unusual given the violence of the events. You did very well. Despite the intensity of your emotions, you gave answers. I was and remain very proud of you.”

“…”

“Uryū, your reactions were not unique. They talk to witnesses and victims of crimes—”

“I don’t like being a victim.”

“Survivor,” he amended immediately. “They are used to such things. I’m telling you they were impressed. They were. We all were.”

“…I wish I had won. Saved Fuji. Got him arrested and barred him from teaching ever again.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s not fair.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s very unfair. I envy the train.”

Uryū looked up at him, innocently puzzled.

He looked so much like his mother— that wide-eyed surprise.

“Huh?”

“The train got to rip him apart instead of me.”

Forgive me, Kanae.

Uryū’s mouth twitched in a faint smirk. “That’s kinda morbid, Dad.”

He gave a side glance. “Feelings are feelings. These are mine.”

“Don’t side-glance me, like Grandpa.”

Ryūken was a little startled at this comparison.

“Both of you side-glance me. Not fair. I just got Mom’s worried face and Grandma’s angry face which means I’m easy to read. Can’t bluff.”

“Hmm.”

He relaxed into Ryūken’s hold and rested his head against his father’s shoulder. “Why do I feel so tired?”

“You haven’t been sleeping well. You were up past midnight. Yhwach nearly abducted you. You were asked to reflect on traumatic events. You haven’t eaten well today so your blood sugar is dropping. You’ve been very stressed and upset for a long time.”

“Oh.”

“Why did you think you were tired?”

“Not strong enough.”

“No. Wrong.” He set him down on the guest room’s bed.

“Shouldn’t I go to my room?”

“No. You’re staying here with me. Doctor’s orders.”

“I should shower.”

“No.”

“I was on the floor.”

Ryūken settled beside him. “So was I.”

“I threw up, aren’t you…grossed out?”

He laughed. “Uryū, even before you were born I was dealing with that.”

“Mom had morning sickness when she was…with me?” he guessed.

“Yes. Then you were born and you had a sensitive stomach.”

Uryū huffed, “So, I always make messes you have to clean up?”

“Don’t twist my words. Vomit is an easy mess to deal with. I wouldn’t make a good surgeon if I panicked at regurgitation. You know aspiration is a risk in multiple procedures.”

“…”

“Stop worrying about this.”

“I feel gross.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to give you a sponge bath?”

He received an immediate, hard, flat “No.”

He laughed again. “Then wait until you feel better. I don’t want you fainting while bathing. This is when bad falls are most common. You’re tired, probably dizzy from lack of nutrients. I saw, in the bin, one rice ball and your dessert. That’s all you’ve had today.”

“And that porridge you practically force fed me after. Instant mix…bland…”

“Let’s get you something tastier to eat then.” He made a request to Juri on his son’s behalf.

“Omurice in the afternoon,” Uryū murmured.

“If you can keep it down, you can have a fruit sandwich later.”

“…Okay.”

It was a relief to watch him eat and then relax, curling in to rest against Ryūken’s arm and shoulder. The way he used to when he was younger.

Good. Uryū needed this. He needed to feel comfortable, allowed, reassured. He needed to know he could seek this from him. They needed this to mend things between them.

Proximity was an easy remedy to provide.

It had helped in the meeting earlier—grounded his son from floating off into the chaos of his memories.

It reminded Ryūken of Uryū’s earliest years—taking his young son with him everywhere, comforting him when he became overwhelmed, encouraging the child to try things and explore the environment, establishing himself as a father…as a pillar of safety, security, and reliability.

“Why would I stay with someone who never cared about me?”

That still hurt.

It was the result of years of pent up anger and confusion and helplessness spilling out but…

He had his personal laptop play opera music as he played solitaire and lost because he couldn’t concentrate.

He ended up setting the laptop on his bedside table where the music could just play.

He wrapped an arm around his child, perhaps it was a belated effort to physically show his care?

Maybe it was obstinacy mixed with frustration? That he couldn’t quite accept that answer.

“I have always cared,” he said sullenly.

That was the truth.

Though, to say this only after his child was asleep.

That was just useless and cowardly—he had to work on that.

Ryūken awoke when the mattress shifted.

“Where are you going?” he asked sharply. His own fatigue was catching up, but the movement had caused a small spike of pure terror—that Yhwach was dragging his child off.

“Shower.”

He squinted as he sat up. “You need your phone to shower?”

Uryū flushed. “No, I just…battery’s low.”

He got up, gently reached out, and took it from him. He set it on a charger he kept nearby.

“We’ll have dinner when you’re done.”

“Okay.”

Dinner was fairly relaxed. He kept chuckling as he looked at Uryū’s “meal.”

“You said I could have some later,” his son reminded him defensively. “It’s later.”

Ryūken ended up abandoning his salad and requesting a fruit sandwich as well.

“Two, Juri. Bring him two,” Uryū declared at the intercom.

“Uryū,” he scolded softly for interrupting him.

“You’re supposed to have two. Juri and his daughters know that. One is for the bad day you’re having and the other is for a better tomorrow. That’s how it works.”

His lips curved. “Oh, I see. Thank you for explaining. Juri, please honor his request.”

“Of course, sir.”

Ryūken soaked in the guest room’s tub, trying to decompress.

He’d ended up bringing the phones in to charge because the guest room’s outlet appeared to be faulty.

He’d have to have that repaired.

And his work laptop.

Uryū had been so upset at seeing that broken and immediately assumed it was his fault.

He didn’t give a damn. It could be repaired or replaced.

When Uryū had lurched forward during the meeting, Ryūken’s immediate fear had been seizure.

Non-epileptic seizures could occur in individuals with anxiety and depression when under intense psychological stress.

He’d been ready to shove the officer’s desk away if he convulsed.

What did a laptop matter?

Thankfully, his son just had to throw up and was considerate enough to seek a trash bin.

As Uryū’s phone, which had gone dead, started to revive it began pinging with messages or vibrating with incoming calls.

Uryū needed to answer his friends but…if he needed a night to recover his strength, Ryūken could permit it.

He’d survived Yhwach’s attempt to capture him the previous night. Had to relay a traumatic experience today which he’d spent years grappling with alone…

Ryūken toweled off, put on pajamas, and left the phones behind.

It’d be easier for them to rest without such distractions.

He was turning down the bedding as Uryū returned with a tray of tea.

He frowned. “I could have helped you carry that.”

“I’m not an invalid. I wasn’t going to drop it.”

“My offering you help is never an accusation of weakness on your part.”

“…”

“You know that, right?”

There was a jerky nod that suggested he didn’t know that.

He set the tray down on the table by the settee.

Ryūken poured the tea.

He could see Uryū’s hands were shaking from the earlier effort.

Uryū noticed he was watching and tried to force himself to be still.

“It's normal. Nightmares are also normal in situations like this. That’s why I’d like you to stay here. Did you switch your ginto bottle?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“We’re both going to take some time off.”

“What? Why?”

“To resolve the situation, cooperate with the investigation, and maintain our sanity.”

“Oh…”

“Your friends are deeply concerned for you. I told them to wait for you to feel comfortable.”

“Thanks.”

“I can be present when you deal with them…to support you.”

“…”

Kanae didn’t like when he studied in bed.

He remembered having a highlighter between his teeth as he reviewed index cards.

“Ryūken, the sheets!”

“They are just sheets, Kanae.”

“You don’t like when I do embroidery.”

“That’s completely different. Me losing a pen and you losing a pin-”

He missed her laughter.

He looked up from his laptop and watched Uryū doodle with a pen.

The risk of ink getting on the sheets was high, but Uryū’s complexion was improving. He looked less gray.

“What are you studying?” His son asked without looking away from his art.

“Subspecialty. Ophthalmology.”

“Are you going to collect all the subspecialties?” he asked wryly. “Do you have room for another plaque in your office or title when they introduce you?”

“It’s useful knowledge. Many diseases have symptoms that go unnoticed because a physician isn’t cross-trained in areas. Plus, I never know what you’re going to get up to.”

“Thanks?”

He caught a glimpse of scales and claws Uryū was drawing in a sketchbook.

Dragons.

“Can I see?”

Uryū flushed but turned the page obligingly.

Sky Dragon studies. The pearl element had been introduced. He felt rather proud of himself for coming up with that idea and seeing it incorporated.

“Good.”

This was very…domestic.

It made him nostalgic.

“This reminds me of when I’d study for exams in university. You used to sit with me. You were learning to roll over. It gave me such anxiety you’d fall off the bed. I ended up putting all the bedding on the floor so you could roll around.”

Uryū’s hand faltered and he looked away self-consciously. “That had to be distracting.”

“I’m not complaining.”

His son raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

He frowned at the skepticism. “Those are some of my favorite memories. You with me as I studied. Taking breaks and pointing to the different index cards. Teaching you colors. And then when you started echoing me…I thought you were just repeating the words, which was impressive enough, but then I called the green index card ‘yellow’ to test you and you-you-” He felt his heart warm and he chuckled fondly. “You gave me such a look. And then I called it red and you blew a raspberry at me. You knew I was teasing. You have always been so funny. My Ryū.”

His son flushed at the pet name but settled back down.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“You…you…when I got hurt in the cemetery…you stayed with me in the hospital.”

“Yes. I hardly left your side.”

“Worried?”

What a question. He clamped down his sarcasm.

“Very.”

“…”

“I helped brush your hair, your teeth. I kept you clean. I fed you and did your dressings. Prepped you for X-rays. I led your surgeries. Uryū, why do you think I continued my studies in subspecialty programs after becoming a cardiothoracic surgeon? I am making certain that if anything befalls you, I can treat you myself.

I-I did everything back then so I could know that you’d heal well. Quickly and completely so it wouldn’t impact your psyche too much. Yes, I wanted you to be more cautious from then on, but I didn’t want you to be discouraged. You were very young. You’re still very young. I…when I got you home, you had nightmares. The prescription…side effects but I let you stay with me. Do you remember that? You stayed with me the first three days.”

“Yeah.” He looked conflicted. Was gratitude that difficult a thing?

“I didn’t mind. I wanted you to feel safe, especially…since our argument in the car.”

Uryū straightened and turned.

“I needed you to know I wasn’t angry. I can never stay angry with you even when you try me terribly.”

Uryū frowned. “You always make it sound like I set out to deliberately cause you trouble.”

“…”

“I’m just trying to live a life I can be proud of.”

“Yes, I need you to do that, but safely. Keep trying. Just do better.”

The teen laid down abandoning his art project. “And you think I’m the frustrating one in this relationship.”

He laid back as well. “No. I know my personality is…difficult for you.”

Which kept him up more nights than the child could know.

Uryū turned and gave him a very flat look. “You are really hard to read. You give nothing.”

His eyebrow twitched. “Read my actions.” And in case the statement was two-fold. “I’m very generous.”

Uryū sighed and glanced at the clock.

His eyebrows drew together and he looked sad.

He was quiet for a few beats more and then started in, “It’s like you have no appreciation for how exhausting you are. You only ask difficult things of me and then while I’m struggling, you make me decipher you and what you’re saying versus what you meant. At a certain point, I just get too tired for all of that nonsense and I figure you can keep your secrets. It’s not worth the exertion.”

“You’re fortunate I never feel the same way about you.”

“I tried to remove the burden I represent. You keep dragging me back. Sometimes, I think it’s because you like having someone to complain about to others—it makes you more human when you’re talking to your patients.”

“I don’t consider you a burden.”

“A punishment then.”

“I wanted you very much. You are your mother’s gift to me.”

His son’s face went very red and then said, “That still objectifies me.”

“You’re wrong.”

Uryū glared. “It renders me as a possession. Something that belongs to you.”

Ryūken couldn’t stifle his sneer. “Yes, that’s how custody works. You’re my son. You belong to me. It is by nature and law. But I’m very aware you’re a person, I wouldn’t accept such behavior from anything else.”

“You are being selectively oblivious to the argument I’m presenting—”

“You are being obtuse. Your argument is not an argument. It’s a tantrum. I am your father. You are my son. Nothing negates it. I don’t doubt today was trying for you and you’re having trouble regulating your emotional state—”

“I don’t want to be yours.”

Ah. That was painful to hear even when he had guessed it years before. “Why?”

He got an incredulous look.

“I’d like an answer. My mother was very difficult, given her mercurial temperament. Even so, at no point did I spit on our blood ties and tell her I regretted my origins. So…why don’t you want to be mine?”

“…I don’t like how you make me feel.”

“Go on.”

“…”

He threw out some suggestions. “Because I correct you? I make you realize your mistakes? I have expectations for you?”

“Powerless. Like I can’t do anything or at least I can’t do it ‘right.’”

Oh…that was…very relatable.

“I don’t keep a chalkboard tallying your mistakes. I don’t take sadistic pleasure out of your errors. Usually, I point them out to prevent you from coming to harm. If I’m…not expressing myself in a way that’s productive, tell me—”

“You’re not expressing yourself in a way that’s productive.”

He bit out a terse. “Thank you, Son. What alternative should I consider?”

“Macaroni art,” his son deadpanned.

His eyebrows twitched. “Uryū…I’m trying to mend our relationship. I get your reluctance and your anger. You feel neglected. I was very absent. Yes. I was. Obviously. You want to hear that your feelings are understandable? They’re understandable. But this isn’t helping us.”

“Why is it my job to make things easier for you?”

“It’s…not. But you seem determined to pick a fight. To injure me.”

“…” Uryū was too still.

“You’re…” His intuition prickled. “You started in on me after looking at the clock because…it’s getting late…you’re trying to upset me and drive me from the room,” he realized.

Uryū’s jaw slowly dropped.

“Why? What can’t you do while I’m here? That you’re afraid I’ll suss out…you don’t want to…” He glanced at the bathroom where the cell phones were charging. “You don’t want to text because it leaves an electronic trail. You want to make a call. You wanted to make one earlier. But I kept your phone in here with me. Who are you wanting to call? Junya?”

Uryū swallowed—an admission of guilt.

“I already emailed the officers. They’ll be taking his videos and files in for examination.”

Meanwhile, he had Towa’s collection in a Quincy vault Uryū couldn’t unlock. He’d set them there while Uryū bathed.

Uryū went very pale.

“Are there things you don’t want seen?”

“Do I want my middle school years under a magnifying glass?”

“Why did Junya edit them so heavily? It deeply upset Chiyo and the others. You had Aso completely removed and it changed the story drastically. I don’t understand why it was done. Removing him protects him.”

Uryū snarled, “I’m not protecting him.”

“Fuji is gone. This doesn’t protect her either.”

His son blinked hard. He knew that, too.

“Who are you protecting?” he demanded.

“…”

“Uryū, who does this silence protect?! Not you!”

“You’re just going to make a mess of everything,” he mumbled.

“Then, I’ll make a mess. So what if my retribution is messy? My hands are the ones that will get dirty. Not yours.”

“Are you really going to make a list of everyone you feel has wronged me? Children who were rude and adults who were apathetic and then what? Let’s hear it. What’s your vision of justice?” he snapped.

“Make no mistake, I’m not aiming for justice. This is vengeance. They earned this the moment you were in their crosshairs.”

A hesitant hand reached for his arm and tugged at his sleeve. “What if I asked you to stop? To drop the investigation and let it go? Could you do that for me instead?”

“And betray your mother and everything she lived and died for?”

The hand dropped away. “…Take your vengeance then but don’t expect my help.”

“Reconsider. If you impede the investigation, you could be punished. I don’t want to see that happen.”

His son bristled. “You’re the one who keeps driving this on even though I’m asking you to stop. That only proves this isn’t really for me.”

“Uryū-”

“It’s for your own pride!” He spat and glared at him. “It’s not for me at all! It’s just like I said. You don’t see me as a person. I’m just a possession—”

“Fool!” He grabbed the boy and gave him a light shake. “What else can I do, when you refuse to come to me?! When you won’t tell me what you know! You’re making me solve this goddamned mystery one clue at a time. You want me to prove myself? My resolve? My devotion? Fine! I will. For you. For Kanae.”

“…”

He embraced him tightly. “Punish me with your resentment and rejection. I can’t do less than this. I can’t. I cherish you too much to even consider it.”

A tense silence stretched.

“Everyone,” his son growled. “I’m protecting everyone. I don’t know who ordered the hit. But I wasn’t meant to survive it. Even you can tell that. And yet, there was never a follow-up. Why? It’s clear I was being observed for what I’d do next. I cut ties with my middle school friends. I went to a different school. I laid low. Just homework and Hollow-hunting. Nothing. Then, my middle school friends transferred. I was nervous but still nothing.”

“…”

“Something happened that I’ve forgotten. And that’s what’s keeping us all safe. And you want to go and unsettle things.” He pushed against him wanting to be released.

He held on. “What makes you so certain you’re still being watched?”

“We’re not going to catch those last suspects.”

“You think they’re being protected by someone higher up?”

“The more I think about it, the more I think they’re in a ditch somewhere.”

“What?”

“I don’t sense them anymore.”

“You…you! Idiot! We could have tracked them down if you had told me you could sense their spirit ribbons!” he hissed. “Damn it. This just means they’re beyond your range.”

“No. They’re dead.”

“Uryū, you can’t sense someone when they exceed the city limits—”

“No, you can’t sense someone a city away!” he hissed.

Light blue eyes widened. “…”

“You have so little mastery over traditional Quincy skills that what little you know has been utilized far beyond its original concept. Your spirit detection…You  have no equal, Uryū. It’s stronger than mine.”

“I knew you weren’t in Japan that day. Your ribbon stretched far away. I just got upset and I stopped thinking. That’s why I was stupid and I tried calling. Your number forwards messages when you’re out in conferences. But me wanting you to do something when I knew you couldn’t do anything... I just got scared. I’ve studied your books, your posters. I knew the knife hadn’t hit anything vital. I just wanted to hear you say it, too. Cuz I panicked like a little kid. Cuz it hurt. So stupid.” He scrubbed roughly at his eyes.

“Of course you called me. Of course you tried. That was smart. That was the right and smart thing to do. You were unsure and scared. You should always call on me when you feel that way because you can trust me. The situation was very violent and upsetting and you got scared and confused. And that’s why you didn’t go to the hospital immediately. You were in shock from trauma. When it wore off, you tried again but then the news retraumatized you.”

“…”

“Nothing you did was stupid. You said it yourself. You weren’t thinking. You couldn’t. Trauma does that. It does that, Uryū. It gets in the way. Makes us illogical. You did your best. You survived. Now, you let me do my best, okay?”

There was a miserable nod.

“Good boy. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll keep your friends safe. You let me protect everyone, okay? It's my turn now.”

Chapter Text

“I thought you were off?” His son pouted as he watched him knot his tie as morning light filtered into the room. 

There was something oddly reassuring in that tone.

Considering all the comments his son had made the previous day… where it felt like he was despised.

No. He couldn’t afford to take all of that as a personal attack.

It was more a declaration of pain.

Patients in pain could be aggressive.

And Uryū had definitely been in great pain and under high stress for a long time—which meant Uryū had an impressive threshold for pain—it had taken years for him to reach his boiling point.

His child had cried a lot in the initial grieving process following Auswählen. Losing his mother was devastating and then his grandfather’s death scarred him further. And then when he wasn’t successfully calmed and comforted by his remaining parent, he internalized the pain. Carried it through situations that exacerbated and added to it.

It was an emotional abscess that required immediate draining.

Not only because it in itself was dangerous but it was distracting Uryū from other emergencies.

Uryū clearly rated psychogenic pain higher than musculoskeletal pain.

He was still more upset that Ryūken had dismissed his pleas for attention and affection than that he’d been in physical danger from Aso and the school…or even Yhwach.

He took his injuries from that confrontation with Aso as proof of incompetence rather than a heinous crime perpetrated and covered up by adults.

“It was my fault…”

“I let it happen…”

“I stopped thinking…”

He’d been overwhelmed by emotion—horror, shock, fear…

And rather than assigning blame where it was due, held himself accountable.

His mind was unwell.

It kept returning to that.

The grasping for verbal affirmation, which he’d initially dismissed as childish and embarrassing, was a last stand of sorts for Uryū’s mental health.

It recognized that outside help was needed. That it could no longer marshal its own forces. 

He needed positive feedback from another party to combat the darkness that was eating at him from the inside. 

It wasn’t only that the world was cruel, it was that the cruelty had seeped in, breached his defenses. 

That was what those drawings showed. In steps. In stages. 

The toxicity had infiltrated his mental plane.

He recalled the depressing painting of a defeated Rain Dragon in a downpour of acid rain.

Even when his enemies were gone, he wasn’t able to fully recover because he’d become…cruel to himself.

Yesterday, some of his internal monologues had slipped out.

And he hadn’t looked for comfort…

He’d asked repeatedly for forgiveness instead. He’d wanted to escape and couldn’t and wound up in a corner and nearly broke down.

He requested painkillers and a blanket.

Cultural norms be damned, Ryūken had tried to embrace him at several points through the meeting in an effort to grant comfort but his son hadn’t reacted. He’d just stared emptily at him.

That had been soul-crushing and mortifying. 

Not so much that he’d had witnesses to that shameful moment of failure as a father but…. he’d always assured himself that, deep down, Uryū knew he loved him. 

That stare…

“Dad?”

“Hm?”

“I thought you were taking time off from work?”

“Ah. Yes, I am…but I need to pick up another work laptop and make sure things are going smoothly.”

“Oh, how long do you think you’ll be gone?”

He evaluated his son.

Sheer exhaustion had meant no nightmares last night, for which he was grateful, Uryū needed the rest. Though he worried that tonight would be less peaceful.

Perhaps, getting out and having some fresh air would do him well? Do something for his circadian rhythm? And to be perfectly honest, it felt like they needed to go back to the basics.

Years of affection had been negated. No, worse, they were in the negatives now. He had to work hard just to get things to break even.

“Would you like to come with me?” he asked.

“Um…”

“I would appreciate your company.” 

He’d taken an infant Uryū many places to help establish their bond. He’d held many conversations and answered deluges of questions from a young Uryū. He’d carried and cuddled and talked.

He’d spiraled badly after Kanae’s death. 

Sōken had tried to help until Ryūken could stabilize himself. 

He died.

Ryūken didn’t step back into the parental void that had been left by three adults leaving—two by death and one from grief.

And Middle School Uryū…

He recalled the “séance” Orihime had performed mere months ago, contacting the soul fragment that had undoubtedly dislodged from his son as a result of this incident.

“You feel…you feel…angry to me. No, you feel betrayed…were you hurt?”

“Did you… suffer a violent death?”

Stabbed by a maniac who’d once been his homeroom teacher and who’d had an inappropriate relationship with the young girl, Fuji.

Yes, the poltergeist had plenty to feel angry and betrayed about.

“Huh? Why would you want me to go? Won’t I slow you down?”

“Uryū…I…I like having you near.”

“To keep an eye on me?” he remarked shrewdly.

Too many hours had been spent at the hospital instead of home. Uryū genuinely seemed to think he didn’t like him. 

He’d also had years of bullies feeding him lies about his presence being undesirable.

“Yes,” he agreed honestly. “I will always believe you’re safest when with me. Though, my motivation for inviting you is at once more nuanced and more simple than that.”

“Oh?”

“When you’re a father someday, you’ll better understand.”

“…You keep saying stuff like that.”

He really didn’t realize what fatherhood meant to him. 

Ryūken frowned.   

His son was not a mere byproduct of marriage.

He had to spell it out. “You like seeing your child. There’s a release of oxytocin.”

Uryū blinked, brow furrowing like this was a logic puzzle.

“I have no issue with your presence, Son. Even when you’re angry with me, I prefer that over your absence, especially when you may be in danger.”

“Why are you…being…?”

“You like transparency. You like answers. You’re curious. Fine. I will try to accommodate you more.”

Uryū took that at face value. “…You knew they had that hospital record when you picked me up from the library.”

“They told me they had the record and to bring my work laptop. I didn’t know the details until yesterday after I gave Hagino my consent.”

“…How did they…?”

“I suspected from the email that you were injured, not sick at the end of the school year, to be out so many days during exam week. I requested help to track down the hospital or clinic that admitted you. If you were merely sick, why would you travel outside the city? I just made the mistake of thinking you had done it voluntarily.

I’m deeply disturbed at the idea of someone forcibly taking you outside of Karakura instead of getting you an ambulance and having you transported to Karakura General.”

“Yeah…Nagano. There’s a lot of rural areas on the way between here and there.”

His stomach flopped at what Uryū had deduced immediately—The driver may have intended to dump Uryū in the countryside but had a bout of conscience.

And his child wasn’t reacting with terror as he should have. The idea of being left for dead should have roused instant distress or a desire for comfort.

There was an emptiness.

It reminded him of nerve damage. Signals weren’t being sent correctly.

Ryūken sighed. “…And my paranoia regarding you, which has always been high, reaches new heights. Get dressed. We leave in twenty minutes.”

Later, when they arrived at the hospital, Uryū came to a halt four steps before the door.

“What’s wrong, Uryū?”

“This is an authorized personnel entrance. I don’t have clearance and you probably want your staff to respect—”

“Uryū—”

“I can go around and use the public side.”

Sides. Everything kept boiling down to sides. 

He needed Uryū to see them as being on the same side.

He caught his arm.

“No.”

“But-”

“No.”

Nearly murdered and assumed his father was too much of a consummate professional to care.

It really explained his nonchalance with Ginjō.

While Hollow-hunting would naturally erode some of his sense of preservation, he should not have been that casual at nearly being killed at the hands of another human.

But it wasn’t the first or even the second time.

“It’s fine.” He used his badge to open the door. “Come along.”

His son kept very close. “What if they think I’m a truant?”

Considering how thin and wan he was, the only thing he was in danger of here was being mistaken for a patient.

“If that happens, I’ll deal with it. You can wait inside here.”

Big blue eyes went very wide.

Yes. He was breaking all of his previous rules and letting his child into the doctors’ lounge. The couch there was softer than the ones in the waiting areas. 

“I need to just handle a few things and while it sounds simple I expect someone long winded will flag me down and a small eternity will pass as I assure them. And then a patient will want to talk. I want you to be comfortable.”

When he came back, he found Dr. Oguro was observing Uryū quietly.

The boy was sleeping.

Dr. Oguro turned to him. 

He waited to be abraded as a hypocrite. His kid got to be in the lounge. Damn it. He was the director. It was time for there to be a perk.

Oguro’s mouth made a grim line. “Is he ill?”

“He’s dangerously stressed. I’m worried about his immune system. I want to keep him close to evaluate.”

He nodded. 

“I’m taking two weeks. We’re working with the police for his case.”

“The attack last June?” 

“That and an incident during middle school that’s just come to light.”

“What?” 

“Your son went to Karakura Academy, too.” He was two years younger than Uryū so he doubted their paths crossed much. He felt like an idiot for not remembering this detail sooner. That was why the other man had probably been interested in the ‘Sensei Ishida’ videos. There’d been a chance his own child might appear at some point in the background. “Can you ask him about Sho Aso? It could be helpful.”

“I’ll call him right now.”

“I don’t want to get him in trouble.”

“No.” He was looking at Uryū with concern. “I’ll call him right now.”

Even though Uryū’s pallor was markedly better than yesterday, he didn’t look healthy.

“Isamu—”

“What do you want?” was the curt answer. 

Ryūken gave the other man a consoling look—he knew exactly how it felt to be on the end of that kind of ire.

Oguro sighed. “My colleague has a request.”

“I don’t care—”

“When you were at Karakura Academy, did you hear about someone named Sho Aso?”

“Huh? The One-eyed Yokai?”

Both men reacted with “What?”

“Um, yeah, I never knew him but I heard he was kind of a jerk. Some kids called him a professional loser. He lost his wife, lost his eye, and took a leave of absence, sooo…sorta lost his job? Became a drunk and lost his life when he killed himself. By train. It was really messy. I heard they had to close that track for days to, you know, scrape him off.” 

“Teacher?” Dr. Oguro asked, looking at Ryūken curiously and then at Uryū. 

“Yeah. Was.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Was he vicious to students?”

“Um, he liked who he liked and hated who he hated. Why?”

“So he picked on students he didn’t like?”

“I never knew him, Dad. So I can’t really say—”

“Ask. Ask your friends from back then.”

“Why? What’s the big deal?”

“Can you just do this?”

“Why? Because you’re my dad? You think you can just order me—”

“Because it’s the right thing? Someone’s in trouble. What you find out could help them.”

“Oh…fine…whatever…yeah, I’ll ask.” He hung up.

“I adore you, too, Son,” he grumbled and then sighed. “He’s angry that his mom doesn’t want to see him. He takes it out on me.”

“She doesn’t want to see him?” It was difficult for his brain to compute that. “Why? Attitude? Breaking rules? Curfew?”

“Ha…no…he…he looks like me.” 

“What?”

“Just like me and she can’t stand that now that we’re divorced. He reminds her too much of me.”

Ryūken scowled fiercely. He couldn’t imagine Kanae resenting their child for resembling him. 

She’d immediately noted after Uryū’s birth that his eyebrows and mouth were like his father’s.

He’d worried a little over that—he knew he didn’t come across as very expressive. Would his child face some of the hardships he’d had? Other children would tease that Ryūken didn’t like fun—look how sour his expression was.

But Uryū’s eyes and most of his expressions were all Kanae’s. Open and friendly. He was a little silly and mostly sweet, just like her.

He constantly saw her in Uryū. It made him even more desperate to save him from their fates as Quincies. To not let this last piece of her, her gift to him, this proof of their love, be lost.

Only to learn now that others had meant their child harm as well and succeeded in inflicting it.

Dr. Oguro ran a hand through his hair. “I’m so angry with her. For hurting him like this. I’m sorry I shouldn’t be venting it’s…unprofessional.”

“Takeru, we have lives outside of this building, this job. That’s the whole point of why I’m taking time off. The issues we—” He gestured to himself and his son. “—Are dealing with now, is because I let things like that—” He indicated the man’s phone. “Escalate. It should never have come to this.”

“Did Aso hurt him?”

“Aggravated battery. Years of escalating harassment.”

“Just learning about it now?”

He nodded, fists clenching.

Dr. Takeru Oguro swore. “You work long hours and send your kid to schools that are supposed to be good. And then monsters like that—Damn it. I’ll talk with my Samu. Maybe his friends know more?”

“Thank you.” He gave a business card with Officer Sahashi’s number. He’d taken some yesterday. “He’s working the case.”

It was awkward but…he saw the errors of their relationship being repeated and he wanted to stop it. 

“Don’t let it get worse. The situation between you and your son. Let him know that should he ever need help, you’re the first one he can ask.”

“Thank you, Direct-”

“We’ve worked together for twelve years now. Ryūken is fine.”

Dad wanted him to have a counseling session with Tessai as soon as possible. 

He even scheduled family counseling for both of them that week with a human therapist.

He really wanted him to be evaluated by a mental health professional.

He turned to find Ryūken watching him.

Uryū crossed his arms. “You’re determined to drug me. Do you appreciate how annoying and creepy that is?”

“I need you to have the best help I can get you.”

“I don’t need—”

“You do need an evaluation. So you’re getting one. Then, they can tell us whether or not antidepressants should be prescribed or if cognitive behavioral therapy will be enough. Dialectical behavioral therapy could also help.”

“Are you going to drown me in therapy and pills?”

“I will get you whatever you need to recover.”

His hair was tucked behind his ears.

“W-why are you…?”

“Because nothing that happened then was your fault.”

“You…you don’t… understand.” He’d earned Aso’s hate.

“No, you don’t understand. It doesn’t matter that you’re a smart boy. A very smart boy. You were only twelve when he decided to be cruel to you. He decided that. He was an adult. You were a child. That’s unacceptable. It was always unacceptable. That he attacked you… Only fifteen. Unforgivable.”

“Dad…”

“You’re only seventeen. And in November, you’ll only be eighteen. Do you see the point I’m making?”

“Is this tying back into the ‘young’ versus ‘foolish debate’ we—”

“No!” Ryūken looked alarmed. “This is the ‘I’m worried that you have no concept of safe and unsafe environments and people because you have been worn down.’ You’re-you’re…” He could see an epiphany in his father’s eyes as the perfect word was found “desensitized. It’s dangerous to be desensitized like this. It’s hurting your ability to evaluate things sensibly.” 

“…So you want me to…return to…?” Being sad and scared and miserable? 

For a moment, he remembered Mom’s funeral. He stared at her gray face knowing a bit further down underneath the high collared dress, she’d been dissected for an autopsy that lasted for days. Would Dad do that to him, too? If he died? Or would his cause of death be obvious? 

It would probably be Hollows.

Whatever had caused massive death in his household—everyone said carbon monoxide but they were either lying or oblivious or apathetic and their spirit ribbons said so—wasn’t for him.

He’d been passed over somehow.

Grownups said it was luck.

How lucky?

Everyone he knew and cared about had left him. 

Kids said he was cursed.

That might’ve been closer.

His death was going to be more like grandfather’s, wasn’t it?

Crunch.

Riiiip.

He hardly dared to breathe.

The coppery smell of blood…

His heart kept beating faster and faster.

Spots appeared before his eyes.

He half-hoped to faint but didn’t.

And not fainting meant witnessing…

Grandpa…I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to try and—

“Uryū…”

“Uryū?”

“Uryū?!”

He was looking up at the ceiling.

“There you are,” Dad murmured in relief.

He’d fainted. That used to happen when he was younger and got too upset…before he started using Ransōtengai more easily. It could force back such episodes though it took time and practice to master.

Dad wanted him to return to this?

This state of…weakness?

His grandmother’s disdain felt justified. He’d never understood it as a child, seeing her sour expression after he’d fainted when he could look up at his father and see—Ryūken, perfectly calm, like this was nothing to get bothered by. And his father would pet his hair as he acclimated.

Uryū blinked as his hair was smoothed back.

“It was a rather busy morning, hm? Perhaps, we did too much? I didn’t mean to push you so hard.”

“No.”

“You just need to tell me when you’re having trouble so we can adjust the pace.”

He could last for a week of intense training to get his power back but a visit to the hospital and brunch?

He’d even ended up napping in the doctors’ lounge. He’d awoken to Dr. Matsuda making some coffee.

The moment he was awake, she took his temperature and then his pulse while grilling him with questions.

How was he sleeping? Eating? His hypotension?

When he tried apologizing for being in the lounge, she’d cut him off with—

“You think your father is stupid?”

Huh?

“He wants all of us to see you. To see if we can catch something he hasn’t.”

“That makes me sound like a science project he wants feedback on.”

“No. It makes him a good father and a good doctor. He knows his feelings are getting in the way. He’s showing he’s not too proud to hear other opinions. I think you need more Vitamin D. Sunshine. Try to get 8 to 10 minutes at noon. I’ll let your dad know.”

When he recovered enough, Dad helped him sit up.

His upper arm and shoulder was rubbed.

“Was there a trigger? A word or a sound? Did a memory surface? Or were you reflecting on—”

“I’m okay, Dad.”

His father helped him stand and supported him back to the guest room. 

But why there? And not his bedroom?

He yawned. “I feel like all I’m doing is eating and sleeping.” 

They’d just come back from brunch and now he was going to take a nap? Really? Successor of Yhwach?

Then again, Yhwach had slept for 900 years. 

Hope he wasn’t inheriting that part.

He yawned and then frowned.

He was ushered back to bed. “Your body and your mind needs rest. Uryū, yesterday…and the night before…you can’t afford to just shrug off such things. Were you expecting to just push through?”

“The world doesn’t stop spinning because something bad happened to you.”

His father’s hands on the coverlet paused for a beat before determinedly pulling it up and smoothing it.

“The world also continues when you stop to rest. So you can afford to focus on yourself and what you need. The world can wait or spin or-or whatever it must do. Stop worrying about it.”

Dad put music on. He drew the curtains. He poured water into the humidifier and set it at low.

All the ambient sounds began lulling Uryū to sleep. He vaguely remembered taking his glasses off and having them gently taken from him.

“Son, I need you to listen to yourself. Your body and your mind and your spirit will be honest with you if you allow it. So, if the consensus is ‘rest,’ then rest.”

He drifted off to his father’s voice and gradually awakened to his father’s voice. 

It reminded him of being small—the voice rumbling under his ear was because he was…resting on his father’s chest.

Apparently, Ryūken had lain down to relax as well.

Embarrassing.

“How are you holding up?”

That voice on the phone was Uncle Isshin’s.

“Hn.”

“You’re probably exhausted.”

“Sleep when the baby sleeps,” Ryūken replied.

Isshin chuckled.

Uryū felt his mood darken.

Great. He was being infantilized. Because that didn’t hurt his ego.

“Did you actually like that phase?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t tell me you entered fatherhood expecting to be entertained?”

“…Uh…not exactly…anything actually…”

“Uryū was planned,” Ryūken said smugly. 

“So what?”

“So, I wanted to make sure we would bond in his early years as my schooling ended. That way the increase in hours as I entered my career would come as he started preschool.”

Fingers combed through Uryū’s hair.

“The baby phase was sooo boring. Just eating and sleeping and shi—”

“You left it all to Masaki, didn’t you? You lazy, shirker.”

“Hey, Masaki liked it. Women coo over little ones, that’s how nature is s’posed to work.”

“No. Assumptions like that are called sexism. Humans aren’t like other organisms with instincts in this area. Nurturing an infant isn’t an innate skill. It’s learned.” 

“Whatever. I didn’t expect you to actually get the fuzzies down on memory lane—”

“The needs were simple. You meet them and the baby is content.”

“What are you talking about? Babies are angry, nonverbal, squirmy little tyrants—”

“I was very good at reading my son’s expressions and identifying what each cry meant. He, likewise, figured out our dynamic fast: Dad would get him what he needed. Very few tantrums as a result. And he’d smile for me.”

“Babies smile for anything. Same way they scream—” 

“No. My son has always been smart. He was ahead. Hitting developmental milestones early. He recognized me as a primary caregiver and attached immediately.”

“Uh…How?”

“Idiot. We kept bottles. I’d feed him at night. I made sure to support my wife and our child.”

“Oh. So, you’re getting flashbacks from this because he’s helpless—”

“He is not helpless,” he growled. “He’s just recovering and he needs my support. And he has it. As I said, I will get him whatever he needs.”

“So he’ll smile for you?”

“Shut up. Have you and your son even talked about Yhwach?”

“Nah. Not really. I mean, we’re both going to look out for Uryū of course but—”

“You told him about Masaki.”

“Yeah.”

“And he just…?”

“Yeah. Took it like a champ.”

“What if he needs more assurance? To just come out with it after years of…silence…you told him about the Hollow, White?”

What? A Hollow? Wait. He’d read notes in Grandfather’s journal. Was this the Hollow that had tainted Masaki’s blood? It had a name?

“Look, Ichigo’s more like me. We don’t need mushy heart-to-hearts like you and your kid do.”

“A perk of being stupid. No brains, no headaches.”

“That’s mean, Ryuu.”

“Hn.”

“Not like it matters to me, but my son got a 96 in his last literature exam. Yuzu put it on the fridge. Him and Uryū, they’re both in that class, right?”

“They are. My dragon got a 103. He got the bonus question and pointed out a discrepancy on Question 19 and was awarded an additional point.”

“Do you have to sound so smug?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought we were merely sharing good news.”

“Any other news?”

“You want to hear about his other classes?”

“No.”

While Uryū was in the family wing watching television, he decided to review his case in the guest room.

There was a low hum of power-washing as restorers worked.

He sighed and put in a set of earplugs to better concentrate.

He scrolled through the details on his laptop.

He frowned at notes mentioning a blood clotting issue.

The medical staff had been alarmed that Uryū had lost and continued to lose blood.

His son’s blood was tested.

Ryūken’s eyes widened at the results of the pain management panel.

It could not be a coincidence.

That drug in his son’s system: oxycodone.

He had tested positive for…

He felt a sickening lurch in his stomach.

He remembered writing it down and thrusting the note at Sōken—high-level prescription opioids because osteoarthritis and battling Hollows didn’t mix well.

“Father, take this.”

It was ridiculous to depend on Ransōtengai so heavily.

“Why Ryuu, if you’re so worried, why not join me when I patrol?”

“No. It’s a choice. You could retire and you choose not to. This is as close to a compromise as you’re going to get from me.”

He sighed. “Ryūken.”

“I don’t want one of those puppet strings failing while you’re cooking for Uryū. You could drop a pan of oil and hurt him.”

He waited for a denial and didn’t get one.

“Ah. I see. That would be terrible,” he agreed. “I’ll take it to a pharmacy near my apart-”

“You can take it to the hospital.”

“Are you sure? My visits won’t embarrass you? The Hospital Director and his father.” He gestured to Ryūken who was in his doctor’s coat and himself, in Quincy garb and a cloak.

Ryūken’s eyebrows twitched. “Do you really intend to come in dressed like that? What sort of precedent does that set for Uryū?”

He nodded knowingly as he placed the note in a pocket. “I’ll take it to my usual pharmacy. They are accustomed to this old man’s eccentricities.”

“Hn.” Ryūken lit up a cigarette.

Sōken frowned. “May I ask what sort of precedent this sets for Uryū?”

“He knows better.”

Sōken gave him a hard look.

“Save your words. I receive a lecture twice a week from him.”

“I see. I concede. After all, if a messenger so fierce and good as that has had no effect on you, what hope have I?”

Ryūken took a long drag of the cigarette and then exhaled.

“Still, I marvel at it. That he continues. You either have not given a strong enough answer as to why you partake in such a habit? Or his love of you is so steadfast it can withstand your obstinance?”

“A child shouldn’t…” His mouth clamped shut.

“Question his parent? Sōken finished softly, amused. “How else will they learn?”

“Silence has plenty of answers, too.”

Sōken had the grace to grimace at that. “So, it does.”

“…”

“I will take the pills as prescribed. For I dare not drop a pan or splatter oil on my dear young grandson. My dear son would never forgive me.”

“Is it necessary to mock my concern? You won’t just let me hire someone to tend to such things,” he snapped.

Sōken turned slightly, a solemn eye studying him. “I’m not mocking you. Not over this at any rate.” He patted the pocket. “I assure Uryū repeatedly that he’s always in your thoughts. This is proof.”

“He’s a foolish boy if he can’t figure that out for himself.”

“No, he’s a hurting one. Pain and grief can be…distracting.”

“There’s nothing more to be done. He needs to move on.” 

“I don’t know about that.”

Light blue eyes narrowed. Stubborn old man…he was determined to disagree with him on everything.

Sōken explained, “You’re not specifying the direction in which he moves on. His state of being as he moves on. His motivation for moving—”

“Is there a point to this beyond your disapproval? I’m very busy. I have a hospital to run. A household to maintain. A son to provide for. Real responsibilities. Or else I too would have the time to indulge in long whimsical philosophical debates with a nine-year-old.”

“I would hate for you to lose him.”

“Then stop risking him!” he hissed. “Abandon your foolish—”

“There are lots of ways to be lost.”

“You—”

“Grandpa?! Sensei!” A young voice cried with joy that made his father’s heart bleed.

He wasn’t greeted like that anymore.

Ryūken put the cigarette out against the doorframe and firmly said, “He was just leaving.”

“What? No…Stay…please?” Uryū rushed across the threshold to catch his grandfather’s hand in both of his.

Sōken smiled gently. “I’m afraid I must go and visit the pharmacy.”

“Aww…”

Sōken gave the younger hands a gentle squeeze before releasing and moving away. “Be good for your father, Uryū.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

They watched him leave the estate.

Once he’d disappeared from sight, the child turned to look up at his father. “Why couldn’t he stay, Dad?”

“You heard him yourself. He has tasks to complete.”

“Yeah but…that wasn’t the whole truth, was it?”

“Come back inside. It’s cold. You don’t even have a sweater on.”

“…”

“Uryū, go put on a sweater.”

“…Yes, Dad.”

He stared at the record again but he hadn’t misread it.

But how? Light blue eyes widened.

How would he…?

Uryū would ask a million questions as a little boy. He’d have asked his grandfather what his medications were and what they did.

But how had he gotten access to…?

Surely, Sōken wouldn’t have promoted prescription abuse?

No. Even he wasn’t quite so shameless.

No…this has to have happened after Sōken’s death because most of the clearing of Sōken’s effects…had fallen to them.

Ryūken had been preoccupied with confiscating the Quincy materials.

Uryū had cleared out the other rooms. 

Which meant he’d emptied the medicine cabinets and the kitchen cabinets.

“Hey Dad?” The child pushed open the door to barge in completely.

“Not now!” he barked, hastily hiding his father’s journal under a stack of tax folders. “Get out.” 

He moved to the door to block his child’s sight of Quincy materials and physically force him from the room if necessary.

Uryū looked up at him, his eyes looked alarmed. His mouth trembled.

It made him remember the autopsy. It was such a familiar look of distress.

Damn it. His tone was too harsh.

At least it would keep him away while he dealt with this mess of unwanted heirlooms and familial doom.

Uryū had more courage than he gave him credit for. He cleared his throat and there was a tiny hint of steel there that under any other circumstance, might’ve made him proud. He often worried his child was too nice and would be easily pushed around.

“But Dad, what do you want me to do with his vitamins and—”

“Uryū, did you not hear me? I’m busy.” 

“Daaad, do we turn in his-”

“Whatever items you can’t figure out what to do with, leave in a pile. I’ll deal with it later.”

His son gave him a pointed stare.

“Close the door,” he instructed. 

“Fine. Whatever. Guess I’ll figure it out,” Uryū grumbled softly.

“Well, you’re the top student, aren’t you? Surely, the title isn’t for show and you merit it? You can think critically, can’t you?”

He expected that to do the trick. To keep Uryū from daring to barge in again. Ultimately, it would but—

He was given a cold, hard “Yeah” and full eye contact.

Uryū’s small nose had wrinkled slightly as he delivered the word.

Ryūken held firm though the expression did bother him. He’d never had the full force of Uryū’s anger and disrespect directed at him before. 

The door shut.

He wasn’t disturbed again. He told himself that was what mattered.

He was keeping his son safe.

But because the door was shut, he wouldn’t hear the rattling of medicine beyond it.

Idiot. 

He’d pocketed the pills right under his father’s nose.

Idiot. 

He let that happen.

He was such an idiot; he let this happen.

How long had he been abusing it? When had he first experimented with it? Who was supplying him?

He had to get him help. But it would go down in his record. It could ruin his future. But he needed to report it so he could get help. The officers had probably already noticed it and would ask.

His latest tests were clean. If it was a one-time occurrence, it meant he’d had it on-hand and the pain from the stab wound was enough to incite him to-to misuse—

His vision blurred.

Oh, Uryū…why? Why didn’t you get help? Why use your grandfather’s—

Wait.

No. That didn’t make sense. They’d cleared Father’s apartment six years before this incident. The medication would have expired.

He read the results again.

Fresh. Not expired. 

Nausea churned. 

No.

No, it couldn’t be. Could it?

“Nononono. I told you. I told you ‘never ever take someone else’s prescribed medication.’ I know I told you in third grade. I told your whole class. How pills can be bad if you’re not the right person taking them and how to get rid of ones that have expired. I know I did—I made a worksheet.”

His Uryū had been the only one to get 100 percent.

Chapter Text

Ryūken’s heart pounded.

As a doctor, he’d worked on patients who’d overdosed, from cough syrup to cleaning supplies.

Addicts who would make repeated visits until they wound up in the morgue.

The desperate who couldn’t see any other way out of their current problems and whom he’d thrust pamphlets at should they regain consciousness.

He’d tried determinedly to revive teenagers who’d made bad decisions to try and earn favor from the wrong crowd.

Had moved in a frenzy to coordinate staff so toddlers could have their stomachs pumped to remove toxic substances.

Consoled relatives who’d read medication instructions wrong and who sobbed in the waiting room in despair.

His Uryū was smart.

His Uryū knew better.

His Uryū had been in a very vulnerable spot where he didn’t feel understood and supported. Where he’d been in physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual pain. 

Patients in pain could make horrible decisions when trying to manage it on their own.

Ryūken’s breath hitched.

He had set money aside in an account to supplement his father’s living expenses much to the older man’s consternation. Just a little bit to help. Because Father liked to treat Uryū to ice cream and the occasional toy. And Ryūken didn’t mind funding that or things that would help Sōken maintain his health.

His breath caught.

He pulled his personal laptop over beside his work one and went to his banking account and…there were no additional transactions, even though…he didn’t recall canceling the autofill.

He sat back in his seat and released another hard breath.

He looked at the dosage level… he pulled up a file for his father that he’d kept. 

He held his breath as he compared the records.

It wasn’t a perfect match.

Different dosage combinations. Probably different brands of medication.

They were both high-level painkillers often prescribed for patients who weren’t battling cancer. But they weren’t the same.

He took a deep, calming breath.

Judging from the amounts and the notes, it was administered in the same 24-hour period as when Uryū was admitted.

He studied it harder and tried to get an estimate of when it was administered.

His breathing was still uneven.

Focus, Ryūken, he admonished himself.

His child, his favorite patient, needed him to do his job. He looked at the data collected from the dipstick tests.

Possibly administered at 5 pm give or take a bit.

He frowned. The timeline didn’t make sense. That meant…he hadn’t taken it after initially being stabbed, let alone in regular intervals.

He was stabbed. He missed four days of school. He took a make-up exam. A professional hit was attempted.

Some time between the exam and the hit, he was given the drug.

A single instance. High dosage.

He stared. That was when someone attempted to suture him…but the wound was infected.

What the hell had happened? Uryū was a very private person; it was unlikely he’d have asked some back-alley butcher—

His lip curled at the very thought. 

Not only because it was simply dirty and dangerous but…

It was a huge, infuriating insult to his father who was a professional—

Wait, wait, wait.

He was stabbed. He went to the wake.

When was the wake?

He looked it up on the computer. Old news. Sho Aso. Headlines. Tragedy. Obituary. Wake. Three days after the stabbing. Evening.

Which meant Uryū was stabbed and only went for help three days later? But the way he spoke…made it seem sooner.

Because…he was missing time.

He probably passed out several times. Infected wound. Fever. Delirium? 

He didn’t record the days passing.

In an altered mental state, he had just enough sense to go out and try to get help from the hospital. It had probably been at night.

He checked the news report. Sho Aso was stated to have committed suicide at 4:23pm. 

Uryū went back to his apartment, attempted to treat himself and passed out—probably from blood loss.

When he woke up, semi-lucid, it was night.

He probably assumed it was still the same day.

He made it to the hospital’s lobby and saw the news. Having no time to process the incident, he was re-traumatized and enraged. He went to the wake. Something upsetting happened there. He went back to his apartment. His wound continued to fester. On the fourth day, in the afternoon, he forged an email (while in a state of delirium?) to his school requesting a makeup exam which was honored.

The biggest question at this point was: Did he actually show up for the exam on the fifth day before getting sutured? Before being beaten? Or did they just award him full points in absentia? And Uryū assumed he was present and did well because he always did well. A false memory perhaps?

Who was at the wake? Who the hell was at the wake and saw a severely injured teenager in an altered state of mind and didn’t call it in? Instead, they tried to patch him up? Two, no, three days later?

Was it at the apartment? Midway through they realized the wound was beyond their ability? Didn’t want to report it and decided to cover up everything by hiring a hitman? On a child? Or, while at the apartment, they saw Uryū’s framed photos? Ryūken was frustratingly recognizable with his hair? Did they panic knowing Director Ishida would eventually learn of the botched surgery attempt and be enraged? So they decided to…

No, it didn’t make sense.

Surely, they should have realized that a grieving Ryūken Ishida would be a colossal force to reckon with? 

Why not take Uryū to the hospital and be awarded with gratitude instead?

The favor he’d have been honor bound to pay in such a scenario…

It made no sense. 

What the hell had happened?

And at that point? Suffering blood loss, infection, and delirium had probably been—

Wait. Why hadn’t the police been more concerned about the drug use?

He continued reading on.

Because…there were also traces of chloroform. They’d already concluded the drug use was non-consensual.

Chloroform and then he’d probably been coaxed to take a pill. He’d ingested the oxycodone. 

He continued through the record and his head tilted.

Evidence of smoke inhalation.

His eyes narrowed. What? 

There was a knock. “Dad? Are…are you okay?”

No.

“Come in.”

Uryū cautiously entered.

“Come here.” He patted the space beside him.

Uryū settled nearby.

There was something in that—the distance he often kept around Ryūken and others, which he’d always assumed was out of animosity or arrogance, were the remnants of someone who’d been abused.

Orihime had known.

She’d lived through it, abusive parents and later an abusive aunt, and recognized the signs in Uryū at once.

He was picking up on it now; his son’s need to know where all the doors and windows were. His desire for enough space which allowed for escape.

Him physically running from Ryūken during their confrontation in his office.

Had he expected it to turn violent?

Isshin’s assertion that Uryū could think of all manner of scenarios.

That made him feel sick.

He reached to touch a shoulder gently.

“Dad?”

“Mmhm?”

“Are you looking at my patient records?”

“Yes.” His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Uryū?”

“Yes?”

He just wanted…to hear it. Out loud.

“When we cleared Sōken’s apartment, you disposed of his prescriptions and vitamins?”

His son blinked, looking a bit caught off guard.

Dread cut through Ryūken.

But then his son promptly answered while straightening his glasses and looking every bit the confident elementary schooler Ryūken had treasured, “I gathered them all up in my backpack and turned them in at the hospital’s pharmacy that night when you were doing a quick round. Mrs. Yagami was very proud of how responsible I was.”

His breath left in a rush. “Good.”

He turned to face him more fully. “Geez, Dad, come on. I was the only third-grader who aced that crazy hard worksheet you made.”

Ryūken laughed but it caught and his breath hitched.

Uryū jolted like he’d been electrified. “Dad?!”

He brushed a lock of hair from his son’s face away from the hinge of his glasses. “Such a good boy. Proud of you.”

Uryū’s eyebrows drew together in deep worry; he was so similar to his mother.

He’d failed them both. It hurt to fail them.

“Dad, maybe you should take a break from this?” His hands briefly moved like he was going to move both of Ryūken’s laptops away and then froze and pulled back, fearful he’d overstepped.

But there was something in the movement—a cringe.

What did he think was going to happen? Even if he did overstep?

Ryūken wasn’t a violent man. He didn’t snatch items. He didn’t shove. 

He’d been very careful not to engage Uryū in hand-to-hand combat as they trained—knowing he had the advantage in weight, strength, and experience. That wasn’t even including the offensive and defensive power of blut.

“Okay.” He closed the laptops and moved them away.

Uryū got him to come back to the family wing with him.

He gazed down at the fingers gently pinching his sleeve. 

It was such a light hold.

He understood it now.

This was someone who’d been grabbed in violence. Who was very careful and aware and made it easy for others to break free.

Trust his son to go through a horrific experience and come out kinder.

Ryūken felt shame again for confronting Kanae as he had in the laundry room.

He hadn’t meant to harm or frighten her—he’d simply lost all reason; the thought that Kanae had betrayed him…his confidence to his mother.

Kanae who had forgiven him in a heartbeat even as he agonized over it years later.

Aso had likely grabbed his son’s wrist to prevent escape and stabbed him.

There’d been a bruising grip on Uryū’s left wrist in the photos with the size and spread of an adult’s fingers. The bones hadn’t broken or sprained (it was Uryū’s dominant hand and stronger) but there was some muscle strain and it had probably hurt. His right wrist would have probably fractured under the same treatment.

The bruising was darker. Older than the other bruises signifying he’d gotten it in the initial attack. Same with his back. There’d been dark bruises there. Was he thrown to the ground? Or against a wall?

But his wrist…

That was from Aso…that was from someone who’d known he was left-handed.

Caught the hand that would’ve blocked the knife.

Orihime’s little séance felt less childish all the time.

“Did you die a violent death?”

His middle schooler…

The fragment that had been carved out.

His life had nearly been stolen.

His innocence had been murdered.

And the question that kept being asked in episodes of PTSD was likely the thought that had crossed his mind in that moment of terror: “Dad, where are you?”

Because he wasn’t there. Not when Uryū needed him.

They sat down on the couch. Uryū adjusted the volume with the remote.

“I’ve started re-watching this show. I was really into it during elementary and middle school. Those comics I like, er, liked. Fine. Like. Were made into it. You saw. I made those goggles for the convention?”

“Mmhm?”

The endless babbling of innocuous topics was meant to distract him either by the nonsensical nature or by vexing him.

Uryū meant to either amuse or annoy his father out of his melancholy.

Because no matter how much his father failed him, he couldn’t stop caring.

Ryūken’s intuition alighted and something even more horrifying took shape for Yhwach’s obsession with his son.

It was a child’s loyalty…no, it was a child’s love that Yhwach coveted.

A shiver ran down his spine.

Yhwach was such a power hungry monster; he wasn’t supposed to want human things.

Being unable to Auswählen Uryū again, he’d begun planning a future with the two of them in it.

That was why he was content not to have Uryū socialize with the other Sternritters; he planned on sacrificing them the whole time.

Letting Uryū grow fond of the other Quincies could breed resentment after their deaths.

As far as Yhwach was concerned, the only one Uryū needed to bond with was him.

He’d merge the realms and rule with Uryū at his side.

A pet.

A prize.

He hadn’t begrudged Uryū’s survival at all.

Ever the pragmatist, he only saw how it could benefit him.

Uryū wasn’t much of a warrior. He didn’t need to be. That wasn’t what Yhwach wanted him for.

Uryū was creative, clever, and talkative. He was intelligent and interesting.

He always did well with tests and speeches. 

He was silly and sweet. 

He saw his grade schooler hugging his knees and telling him about his day. 

He saw his middle schooler gazing excitedly at the comic book display and blushing on being caught.

He saw his high schooler taking the care of those under his charge very seriously but still losing his temper now and then with his cousin who knew how to press his buttons.

Yhwach saw a prince to keep him company.

A person to cage and amuse himself with as the world returned to a primordial state of chaos.

A light to take with him into the darkness.

No.

Ryūken rested his face against his child’s shoulder, trying to take solace in his tangibility.

He was still here in spite of everyone…everything conspiring against them.

“Dad?”

“Hm?”

“Dad?”

“Mmhm?”

“Dad, it’ll be alright.”

Uryū had spent most of his life assuming his father was physically incapable of grief—possibly an issue from birth or something. He’d seen his father’s pictures in albums. His expression was always a bit flat, even ones where he was schooling his features to look more pleasant; he came off as bored.

He’d been stoic through the massive wave of wakes and funerals nine years ago, even his own family’s.

So the weight on his shoulder made it feel like the world was ending.

And it was odd because they’d been in real danger of that happening under Yhwach’s command.

Yet this somehow felt worse and he needed to stop it.

He hesitantly hugged him which garnered a stronger response than he expected.

The crushing embrace he suddenly found himself in was making breathing increasingly more difficult.

Dad was holding onto him like there was a breach in the air cabin and he alone was keeping him from being sucked out of an airplane.

He finally had to wriggle. 

Ryūken gasped and immediately started to pull away and because he was dramatic he would probably never deign to touch him again—

“Geez, does it have to be full strength or nothing?!” Uryū snapped. “Hold me like you did when I was younger. Not gonna drop me or break my bones! It can’t be that hard! You’re supposed to be smart and a surgeon! Or are you sawing people’s limbs off by applying too much pressure?!”

“…”

“Damn it, that came out wrong. I-”

His head was gently tucked under Ryūken’s chin and arms were draped comfortably around him.

The television continued on in the background.

He settled into an embrace that had come nine years too late.

“See? You know how.” It made him a little annoyed. 

“…”

“I don’t blame you, you know? So… you don’t have to feel so bad.”

“…That makes it so much worse for me.”

“Huh? How?”

“Like you don’t factor me into this at all.”

Well, yeah, but it wasn’t in a mean way. Not anymore. He just didn’t really have much of a life left. He’d sacrificed a lot. He’d chosen it. No one to blame but himself.

“Why would I blame you for my own decisions? I put myself in those bad situations. But… because I survived, I learned and I was able to help my…friends.”

“We’re not having the same conversation.”

“Hey, I answered the question.”

“You’re being philosophical. I’m being your father. I’m that before I’m anything else, Uryū. You were in danger and I didn’t protect you from it. Of course I feel terrible.”

But it was always like that. Ever since Auswählen happened, he’d stopped protecting him.

“Son, how could you not say anything to me about Aso?”

Was this a rhetorical question or was he actually wanting answers?

“Uryū?”

“…I…tried a couple times but…I wasn’t good at explaining what was happening. And by the time things were really bad, I’d made too much of a nuisance of myself for anyone to trust what I had to say or care about what happened to me.”

“I care about you, you idiot! You should’ve come straight to me!”

Uryū frowned. “I tried. It was no use. You always assumed I was making a big deal out of nothing or that I was the troublemaker responsible.”

“You could have shown me Junya’s videos. Any adult could’ve been—”

“What if they said we’d faked it or edited it to look a certain way—”

“You were children. You didn’t have the skill to pull that off—”

“Adults just do what they want anyway. They could destroy the tapes and we’d have nothing.”

“Why on Earth would I do that?!”

“Huh?”

“There you go, not thinking about me rationally.”

That got him irritated. “When did I see you? Hardly ever. Was I supposed to leave a note? Would you have even believed it? Because it would’ve sounded really outlandish and you know it.”

“You didn’t give me the chance to investigate the threat!”

“You didn’t give a damn about Hollows trying to eat my soul. Why would you suddenly care about a creep like Aso? Besides, you were useless for the same reason in both scenarios. I thought you were just a doctor. The hell were you going to do in a fight? Bill him? No, I had to deal with him myself.”

Ryūken’s temper threatened to explode.

“…” His middle schooler thought he was the weak one? “You thought I couldn’t protect you?!”

It was so insulting.

“…” Uryū gave him a flat look.

Ryūken’s whole face twitched. “You thought I, a grown man, had less of a chance than you, as a middle schooler, against him?!”

Dark blue eyes narrowed. “You were a tired, crabby smoker who complained when his designer shoes got dirty or if I played music too loud. You never went to any school events because it took too much effort. You’d get uncomfortable on the poor side of town. At home you always had staff to cook for you or carry things for you. And at work you had staff that lifted patients and did the busywork for you. I never saw you run or weight train or anything. So, yeah, you didn’t cut a real impressive figure, Dad.”

“Ah…Yet, you didn’t think I would hire someone to protect you?”

“For the same reason you didn’t hire anyone to mind me either. My exploits with Hollows could get them killed.”

And he got that part right.

“I was on my own.”

And he got that part—

“Wrong. I’m here but you…you need to communicate with me.”

“…”

“Don’t make that mistake again. Don’t isolate yourself and go quiet. That won’t resolve anything.”

Uryū bit his lip and nodded.

“It must have been really difficult thinking it was yourself, alone, against everything.”

“…Yeah.”

“It’s not like that anymore.”

The boy looked hesitantly over at him.

“Have you responded to your friends?”

He shook his head.

He considered scolding him but didn’t. “Why not?”

“…They’re going to see me differently.”

“What do you mean?”

“Less…less capable. Less trustworthy.”

“What? Why?”

“Didn’t…win…”

“Win? Against a psychopath?” 

Uryū became agitated. “Aso was just a human! And so were the attackers later! Oh I can withstand Hollows but not-”

“Hollows are animalistic. Human souls stripped of nearly everything that…complicates… You can prepare for confrontations like that. Aso’s attack was unexpected because he was a human. Your mistake was assuming he had decency. You assumed his word meant something.”

“Yeah, foolish, right?”

Yes.

But the gotcha was garish and unnecessary.

Ryūken rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Am I just this callous, chastising figure to you? I told you before I take no pleasure out of your errors or injuries. Can’t I just be sorry that these horrible things happened to you? That someone who wasn’t worthy of your sense of honor abused it cruelly? That others took advantage of you in a wounded state and dealt more damage?”

“…”

“That you didn’t…you didn’t trust in me enough to have Hagino reach out? What did you think would happen? Worst case scenario?”

“Lose Mom’s necklace, lose the apartment—”

“Those are just things-”

“Friends could be targeted next.”

“The police could have helped us. Why else?”

“If I called you and…you…”

“And I what?”

The boy fidgeted.

“Uryū, what on Earth could I do? You said it yourself that you thought at that point that I was a mere doctor. What did you think I would ruin with my impotent human rage?”

“It was just better not to.”

“What?! That makes no sense.”

“I couldn’t…not at that point. I just couldn’t risk it. My head was…and you know how you are.”

“You were afraid to…be questioned? Mocked? Insulted? That I would blame you for your misfortune? What were you-”

“I just couldn’t. I felt so bad.”

“Uryū, I would have done everything I could to alleviate your pain.”

“I felt so bad. Inside. After. It took everything just to breathe. Humiliating. Shock. Scared. I felt so let down. By everyone. Worse. By me. Where was my strength? Talked so big and couldn’t…couldn’t. How could I let this happen to me?”

“You thought what? You thought I would make you feel worse? That I would see you in such a state and—what kind of monster do you take me for?” 

There was no answer because he wasn’t registering Ryūken’s presence.

Uryū was back in that moment again. “I felt so bad inside. If I called and you …and they all saw…there were staff complaining, feeling already that I was a drain on resources. Nobody. I was nobody to anyone. And maybe you would pay out of courtesy to the hospital, but I…felt so sick at everything. Everyone. Had to get out.”

“Uryū?”

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t. It was the last thing. It was the last…I couldn’t hear it. Not right then. Not like that. I needed to just get out. Away from the ribbons. Alone. Alone. Alone. If I could be alone, I could hold on. I could concentrate.”

He gingerly moved closer to drape an arm around the shaking form.

These were remnants of what had been a complete breakdown. 

Orihime’s words floated back once more:

“This energy…I feel like you’re in trouble.” 

“Were you lonely?”  

“Were you sad?”  

“Are you angry?”  

“Why are you angry?” 

“You suffered some kind of spiritual death? Right?”  

“Were you neglected? Did you feel abandoned?” 

“You feel…you feel…angry to me. No, you feel betrayed.”  

“Were you hurt?” 

“Did you… suffer a violent death?”

Forsaken…

He’d felt forsaken by the world of the living and that everyone there was complicit.

“I would have come. I would not have left you,” Ryūken said.

Uryū flinched.

Ah. That was what it was.

Damn it.

He saw himself in his son… self-worth dangling by a thread after a horrific string of incidents that compounded one another and weighed down on him.

He remembered the rain…the hopelessness of having failed everything he’d been raised to believe in and uphold.

His role as designated by his clan, the plans for his life, had shattered and he’d fallen through a void where all of his sacrifices and the sacrifices of his ancestors had been rendered meaningless. And it was all his fault because he’d prioritized the wrong things. Or so it seemed.

Similarly, Uryū’s sense of identity had also been challenged.

He’d seen himself as very confident and capable and then the mirror cracked.

For Uryū, there had been no Kanae.

“I will always come to help you, if I know you need me.” He just…wasn’t as intuitive as Kanae who could just know and appear. He needed more cues. “Just tell me. Tell me and I will be there.”

“…”

“Uryū?”

“…I’ll…try.”

That was the best he was going to get right now.

It was paranoia. It was pure paranoia. And he had succumbed to it.

Uryū’s recollection should have been enough. But he’d had an onslaught of nightmares where his son overdosed. As soon as the sun filtered into the room he began readying for the day.

He couldn’t relax. Not when his son had made a whole fraudulent email account at the tender age of twelve. He’d also endeavored from that age on to cover up two attacks and years of escalating harassment. 

He had emotional pain that ran deep, the sort that could lead wounded people to self-medicate.

If he had a drug addiction…he’d try to cover that up, too.

There were no additional charges to Ryūken’s account; if Sōken’s prescription was being paid for out of pocket…

The pharmacy chain of the old charges had four locations. Three of which were close to Sōken’s old apartment, but none of them recalled Sōken Ishida as a client. 

The fourth one was a mixture of pharmacy and convenience store near Uryū’s old elementary school. He should’ve guessed. It gave grandfather and grandson an opportunity to meet up. And there was cheap candy a child would appreciate.

“Ah, yes,” the ancient, wizened pharmacist nodded. “Sōken Ishida. Hmm. Usually his grandson comes in. Can it be…are you Sōken’s son? Are you Ryūken?”

“I am,” he answered, feeling odd that his father had spoken about him to some stranger.

“The doctor?” He smiled.

“Yes.” 

“Is something wrong, young man?”

He felt his ears grow hot. He hadn’t been addressed like that in a long time.

“You said my son, Uryū, usually comes by?”

“Oh yes, one of our favorite customers.”

Dread flared at his child regularly coming here. Was he continuing to pick up pills? A charade? Pretending his grandfather was still—

“Uryū. Yes. Uryū, such a polite boy. You see that display?” He pointed to a turnstile of pamphlets and cards. “Teenagers kept pushing it over. Scatters everything everywhere. He has helped me right it multiple times. He worries about my back. I’ve thrown it out before trying to pick it all up—Such a nice boy. Well, he was here the last time and he called their leader out. All the cards on the ground. I was so fearful for him.

He’s such a quiet, studious thing. Watched him grow up. He was such a tiny boy in elementary school. Couldn’t see over the counter. Always calls me ‘sir’ and my wife ‘ma’am.’ She runs the store side. So polite to us. She’s getting us sandwiches from the deli down the way. Very good. I recommend. She’ll be disappointed she didn’t get to see you. Usually, children, they get mean in middle school and are worse in high school. Just one of those things. And, if you’re lucky, they mellow as adults. I know. I’ve seen generations grow up in this neighborhood. We’ve been in business for decades. You see these things when you work as long as we have. Nice children going astray. Not your boy. 

As nice a boy as the first time he came in with his grandfather. When he called the ruffians out, I begged him not to get involved. I was so scared. This is how good boys get hurt.” He paused for a beat. “He flipped that other boy over his shoulder and gave such a punch that knocked all the wind out of him. He was a big opponent, too. No one could have guessed he could do that. And then he warned the other troublemakers that worse would come if any of them dared to cause mayhem to me or anyone else on this street again. I haven’t had any problems since. And-and he helped me pick the display up, too. Right after.” 

Ryūken blinked. “I see. I…I was just making sure the autofill was cancelled since my father passed. Backlogged with work and I…remembered this and...”

He blinked. “Oh. Oh yes, Uryū cancelled that the week it…happened. We talked about…it…which was very hard on him since they were so close, I…I am very sorry for your loss. Yes, it was closed properly.”

“Thank you.”

“Here.” The old man handed him two lollipops. “For you and your son. I-I always give Uryū…such a good boy. I know it’s a trifle but…”

He accepted the token of goodwill. “Thank you. My Uryū…he…he is a good boy. The loss of his grandfather continues to be very difficult on him.”

“Yes…I tell him he can come visit with me any time and we can talk about him. Sōken…he was a good man. Great mahjong player. I was stunned when he introduced me to Uryū. Even better player.”

“He… Father was very good at...”  He swallowed unexpectedly at the emotion that rose in him. 

“I’m so sorry, young man. There’s no good age for losing a parent.”

“N-no. There isn’t,” he agreed. The void of lost family members stretched bleakly. 

“He was so proud of you. Both of you. You and your son.”

He swallowed again and nodded. “Thank you.”

In an effort to focus, he looked at a long corkboard nearby with photos of people and kites that ranged through the decades.

At the center was a sepia one of a boy and his parents with a large carp kite.

“Our boy,” the man replied, following his gaze. “He’d have been your age. Loved kites. So, we always make sure the store has…” He sighed. “He was a good boy, too.”

Ryūken nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

The man pointed out a photo with Sōken and Uryū. 

It was a windy day. Uryū had noticed the camera and grinned as he held a kite shaped like a dragon. Sōken was right next to him, holding a warm coat Ryūken remembered buying for his son. It was obvious the eldest Ishida was trying to coax the youngest Ishida to wear it.

“You’re welcome to visit, too. Of course. We get very nice kites here, you know. For the New Year.”

“Ah, so this is where Uryū buys his kites,” he lied gently.

“Yes, it is!” He nodded happily. 

“Well, I’ll make sure we continue to honor the tradition.”

He was waved off merrily and told to give Uryū the man and his wife’s good wishes for his health and his grades.

Ryūken drove home and parked and sat in the car for a long time chewing a piece of nicotine gum.

Naturally, his son not abusing prescription medication was a huge relief for him; he was going to sleep better that night. 

It also strengthened his regard for his son’s word. Uryū wasn’t always trying to deceive him.

But there was a bitter sweetness to this discovery.

It had been a very grown up thing for his elementary schooler, bogged down with grief, to come into that store and handle that matter on his family’s behalf.

And on seeing the loneliness of the pharmacist and his wife, pushed through his own pain to be kind to them.

To be and remain consistently kind to them.

He was proud and worried.

The weight of grief…

The weight of generosity…

The door to the garage opened and Uryū peeked in, looking concerned.

Ryūken lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

His son turned beet red on being noticed and immediately closed the door, before slowly opening it again.

Ryūken’s lips curved.

Uryū was so much like his mother.

He had to believe he could protect him this time.

He motioned for him to come over and held up the candy.

Chapter Text

Uryū fidgeted under the fluorescent lights of the shop, feeling self-conscious and annoyed.

Urahara moved his fan. “Oh, finally remembered us, huh?”

Isshin gave a cheery wave. “Hey there, nephew! How are you feeling? Up for another grueling interrogation?”

His eye twitched. “Not really.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Isshin laughed goodnaturedly.

“I knew you were the avoidant type,” a deep voice commented.

Uryū glanced up at the black cat watching from the top of a shelf, tail lazily flicking back and forth. “Miss Yoruichi! What are you—”

“Time for our session,” Tessai announced and motioned for him to follow him.

He blinked.

“Go on,” Ryūken told him and made a shooing gesture he’d used when Uryū was little.

Uryū released an annoyed breath through his nose.

His father took a special pleasure out of bossing him around.

The elder Ishida was staying behind with Isshin and Urahara. Yoruichi dropped down with feline grace.

The four adults left for the underground chamber.

Dark blue eyes narrowed. That was suspicious.

“In here please.”

It was early enough in the day that Ururu and Jinta were at school.

He was relieved because today’s activity was somewhat childish and he didn’t want to be teased by the two middle school mod souls.

Uryū felt a little silly at first making a vision board from magazines and foam board and other crafting materials, but Tessai was making one, too, and he took it very seriously—that got him into the spirit.

There were three big categories:

1. Things that motivated him.
2. Things that made him feel good.
3. Things he wanted to manifest in his life.

They got to talking about words. 

How words influenced messaging.

Tessai nodded. “What you say to yourself matters. How you say it matters. The words. The tone. The intensity.”

Since Tessai didn’t talk very much, he made sure to hang onto these pearls of wisdom.

For motivation, he selected the words ambition, precision, and improvement.

“Now, choose three things that comfort you. Try not to select words or synonyms from the first category.”

He noticed desserts were in Tessai’s “comfort” category.

Apparently, the man had a secret sweet tooth. That made him chuckle.

“Is something funny?” Tessai asked imperiously.

“Um…you like panna cotta?” 

“I do.” 

“Juri, our chef, makes delicious desserts. I’ll have to ask if he has some recipes for that.”

“…I would appreciate that.”

Uryū chose magazine images of the sky—clear, cloudy, storming. Koi fish. Dragons. Sewing crafts. Pictures of art supplies. Pictures of books. Manga. Board games. There was a cute collection of plushies—he loved sewing those. Those had helped him make rent multiple times!

He ended up amassing a large collage of images.

Tessai looked over. “Very good.”

“Are you sure?” The more he looked at it, the more childish his comforts seemed. 

And maybe it was because he was focusing so much on his middle school years he had the embarrassing epiphany that…he still liked a lot of the same things from then. Worse, quite a few were things he’d liked even as an elementary schooler.

“Hello Ryūken,” Tessai greeted quietly.

“Hello.”

Uryū looked up in alarm. “Dad?”

He usually didn’t interrupt a session.

He realized belatedly that Tessai hadn’t used any spells to keep people out this time.

His father drew near. “What are you working on?”

He immediately felt self-conscious and wanted to throw himself over the board and block its contents from sight.

Why had he chosen such stupid things?

“Um…”

Tessa explained the activity.

To Uryū’s shock, Ryūken sat down and took up some supplies for himself.

He frowned. Who said he could just crash this?

Tessai gave him a warning look. 

He sighed.

“Complete the third category. Talk aloud if you’re struggling. That goes for you as well, Ryūken. Understood?”

“Is there a specific order to complete the categories?” The elder Ishida asked.

“Good question. No, there is not.”

Ryūken’s glasses flashed. He immediately set to work.

It looked like he had no problem with the third category and was starting there.

It figured he’d have an easy time where Uryū was struggling.

What he wanted to manifest?

“What if I want to preserve instead of manifest?” he asked.

“Explain.”

He pushed up his glasses. “My grades.”

“What are the grades for?”

“The hell? I mean, what?”

“What do the grades do for you?”

Tessai was being difficult on purpose.

“I…do my best? Because you should demonstrate your knowledge or what’s the point of school?”

“Why?”

“Because…”

“Because why? Why does it matter?”

Uryū took a deep breath. “I promised to do my best at school because…it mattered to Mom. I promised her.”

He could feel his father’s attention even if his head was bent down over his own work. His spirit ribbon held tension and focus…and concern.

“Why did it matter to her?” Tessai asked as if commenting on a news article and not the most important person in both Ishidas’ lives.

“She wanted me to do well.”

Tessai shrugged his shoulders. “What does that mean, Uryū?”

“She…saw grades as a stepping stone to the future…” 

To medical school.

She’d been really supportive that he follow in his father’s footsteps as a doctor. Of course, she couldn’t have foreseen her husband autopsying her body and her son witnessing it and how that would fracture…everything.

“Good. Future. What sort of future will the grades help you manifest? Or do you want the grades for a different reason? One beyond fulfilling a vow to your mother?”

This would sound dumb.

His face warmed. “Feels… good when I…see…them.”

Bragging rights? Status? 

He wasn’t a waste of space? Look he could get something right?

“That your hard work has culminated in the grades and you can feel pride in yourself? Or that you have been validated by a system or instructors?” 

“Both? I guess?” The assembly hall had to applaud him when he was awarded. When he was younger, it helped him feel seen. Like he existed. It sometimes felt like he was gradually becoming more invisible.

“Do you need the grades to know you’re smart?”

“No…I know I’m…smart…book-wise.”  He answered that way lest Ryūken heckle him about common sense.

“Do you need them to stand out positively? To feel seen and validated by others?”

Yes.

“Whatever it is, it helps me.”

“Are you using the grades to feel better? If they comfort you, they go into the other category.”

“…”

“That last category is for manifesting things you want. Goals to complete.”

“Future.”

“Exactly.”

“…”

“It doesn’t need to be complex.”

“Can they be things from the comfort category?”

“Yes.”

“Then, the grades can go there,” he argued.

“If you can, I’d prefer the grades to stay in the comfort category since it doesn’t seem like they’re intended towards anything other than it’s something you’re trained at achieving.”

“Then, I don’t know what I’m supposed to put for the last one!”

“What’s an activity you’d like to do? A meal you’d prefer to eat?”

Uryū frowned, feeling frustrated. “Then how is it different from the comfort category?”

“Motivation is something in the distance. Comfort should be something close by. Manifesting your goals should be near enough for you to see results and far enough to keep you moving forward.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m having trouble here.”

“Yes, you’re having difficulty setting goals, any goals for the future—immediate or distant. Why do you think that is?”

“Why can’t the grades go there?”

“Because they aren’t your goal. They’re your mother’s goal for you. This is about your goals, not hers. What are your dreams?”

“…”

He didn’t have any. 

“…The world was going to end.”

“And now it’s not. I’d like you to choose an activity. In fact, I’d like you to choose an activity to partake in with your father.”

Uryū scoffed, “Now you’re going to drag him into it? That’s not fair to him.”

“Why? What activity are you planning for us that you think I’ll loathe it instinctively?” Ryūken remarked candidly.

“I-I…”

His father looked up with a teasing smile. He was trying to lighten the mood.

“I…don’t know.”

“Choose something, Uryū,” Tessai ordered.

“I-I…I feel very put on the spot.” 

“I’m sorry this feels uncomfortable. It is important.”

Uryū bristled. “Stop. Both of you are staring at me. It’s a lot of pressure.”

His father’s mouth thinned and he fidgeted like he would when Mom was making Uryū answer a question but she hadn’t given him the context. And Dad understood and wanted to give him a clue to bridge the gap. 

Tessai nodded. “I know. That’s why we’re doing this. I think you understand what I’m really getting at, Uryū.”

“I just don’t really want anything.”

Tessai sighed. “Exactly. You have to want something for your future to set it into the manifestation category.”

“…”

“You readied yourself to defeat Yhwach by sacrificing all of your wants, all of your hopes and dreams, all of your future.”

So, he’d already guessed that.

“…Yeah.”

“You need to regather those things.”

“But…”

“You need to regather them, Uryū.”

“It just seems unfair,” Uryū mumbled.

“How so? 

“If Yhwach does recapture me, wouldn’t it be better if I didn’t leave things half done? Plans incomplete? Others in the lurch? Wouldn’t it be more considerate—”

“Yes, be considerate: Don’t get captured. Don’t die,” Ryūken muttered. “Choose something for us. What do you want?”

All the things he wanted most were beyond anyone’s skill to procure for him.

He wanted Mom. He wanted Grandpa. He wanted Fuji and Inukai to be rescued.

He wanted things to be fixed. He wanted ‘before’ back. He was trapped in ‘after.’

“Uryū,” Ryūken warned, tone hardening slightly.

“I…”

“Uryū-”

“Want…”

“You…”

“It’ll sound stupid.”

“Uryū, answer Tessai now—”

“I want Mom and Grandpa back.”

A chair scraped back and Ryūken was suddenly beside him.

“Ur-”

“I want to go! Outside!”

He half-sprinted to the back porch of the shop and stared out at nothingness—dirt and gravel and discarded pallets.

See? Want manifested!

“Hn. They should do something out here. A feature of some sort is sorely needed,” Ryūken complained softly.

Uryū nodded blankly as he tried to remember how to breathe.

He sat down and stared at pieces of broken glass catching the sunlight as clouds moved.

He wished it was dark so he could hide.

Tessai joined them after a while.

“I’m sorry,” Uryū murmured without looking at him.

“For what?” Tessai replied simply.

His head bowed. “Ruining the session.” 

“What do you mean? You finally made real progress.”

His head snapped up. “Huh?”

“You listened to you. You finally had an answer. We can better understand what you’re grappling with now.”

“Eh?” What he wanted was impossible.

Tessai was direct. “Honesty is important at this juncture.”

He felt a twinge at that. He’d been so wrapped up in judging others’ lies, he was turning a blind eye on his own.

Silence could be its own mode of deception. Except, he really was trying to make things easier on everyone. Trying to keep them safer…

He bit his lip and nodded.

“Final part.” The large man handed him an index note and a pen. “Write down three words that describe your strengths.”

Right now? When he felt weak and stressed and pathetic?

Time for trusted stock words that described him:

Smart. Innovative. Diligent.

Tessai then took the card and pen back and handed to—

“Ryūken, would you add three strengths you feel he possesses?”

Uryū inwardly cringed, especially because his father answered it very quickly—jotting three things down like it was easy.

He would have preferred some show of contemplation or thoughtfulness.

“And now I will add three.” Tessai wrote his words down. He set the card into a small notebook he pulled from the apron he was wearing. “This week, look at the index card and briefly journal about how we see ourselves versus how others see us.”

He couldn’t help but notice that only he received that task. He wasn’t invited to comment on the adults.

Double-standard.

It was on the drive to a petrol station, Ryūken said, “I want them back, too. Not a day goes by where I don’t miss your mother. Or where I want my father to redeem himself and support us. It’s not stupid to long for them. That’s…that’s just your heart. You can’t disregard your heart, Uryū.”

Uryū swallowed hard and nodded, not trusting himself to speak on such a painful subject.

His father pushed on, “You don’t…stop caring because…because they’re not here. They’re family. It’s never stupid to care about your family. ”

Later, when he was sure Ryūken was distracted by the pump, he stole a look at the index card.

Tessai had written: “Open-minded, thoughtful, and problem-solver.”

And there, in his father’s cramped, impersonal handwriting: “Resilient, brave, and good-hearted.”

He felt a twinge of conscience because the words that came to mind when he thought of Ryūken were “calculating, knowledgeable, and composed.”

In comparison to what he’d been given, those words felt cold and unflattering.

Even though they were enviable traits

Maybe he knew intrinsically that those weren’t the words his father wanted him to use.

The Father’s Day cards he’d written as a child felt a lifetime away.

The fact was… he’d watched his father fall from his pedestal… and continue falling…

And nothing was ever the same. 

He really had lost both parents.

His mother in the most literal sense and his father in a spiritual sense.

Everything he’d been told about the medical field being composed of good people doing good things for others to promote healing rang false.

His father was a liar.

His father was a hypocrite.

His father was a betrayer.

Terrible truths a child might overcome with enough love.

But his father became increasingly cold, callous, unreliable, unresponsive, and useless.

He had watched the good man his father had been, the hero that he’d idolized, slowly necrotize into something unrecognizable.

At least his mother had been cremated.

Yet, some part of what was left of his father still wanted to be described by him as “caring, trustworthy, and dependable.”

But he just didn’t merit that anymore, no matter how doggedly Ryūken insisted he could be confided in.

Uryū was sorry about the reality of that but…he couldn’t pretend otherwise either.

It hurt.

Ryūken frowned. “It says refurbished.”

His son nodded. “Yeah, but-”

He shook his head. “No. I don’t want to buy something refurbished. I’ll buy you a new one.”

“You can’t. It came out in 2000 but it’ll be fine because there are lots of games out—” 

“Why can’t we buy it new?”

“Just…can’t. There are none for sale here.”

“Where’s the clerk? Maybe he can-”

“Dad, stop. No.”

“I’ll ask since you’re feeling shy-”

“Dad! No.”

“-To contact his manager.”

It took a couple of phone calls, but the owner of the store said he could arrange it.

There was a light tug on his sleeve. “Dad, that’s waaay more expensive than it was originally when it came out.”

“It’s fine. I want a new one so it will work correctly for you. They’ll have it here next week. Is there something else you’d like that we can buy today?”

“This is an Xbox,” the clerk declared excitedly, “brand new and it just released last year.”

“Do you like that? Or something else here? 

“Yeah.”

“We’ll take two. One for you and one that guests can use when they visit. Now, how many games should we get? Ones that you like, of course. But also ones for entertaining?”

When they walked back to the car, bags in hand, Uryū remarked that this would probably be the shop’s most lucrative month of their operation.

“Good. If you like a store, it’s important to support it.”

Following lunch, his son began instructing him on how to play with the Xbox. 

It was all a bit silly. 

First, Uryū had them play brightly colored puzzle games to get him used to the controller's buttons.

He’d expected his son to lord over him with the skills he’d developed at friends’ homes, but he often paused the game to explain functions whenever Ryūken struggled.

When he pointed it out, because Uryū had acted so smug before when he’d denounced him as a “n00b,” his son stared down at his controller. 

“You bought all of this stuff. You…you should get to enjoy it, too.”

“Uryū, you know I bought it for you.”

“You’re playing because of me, too. Aren’t you?”

He nodded. “Board games, card games, puzzles, museums, movies, galleries, parks, concerts.”

“…”

“Music, television—”

“This makes it sound like you don’t get to do anything you actually enjoy—”

“Incorrect. I enjoy spending time with you. You are the critical component.”

“…”

“Uryū, why do you think I’m taking time off?”

“We’re working on the investigation.”

“Partially correct. I need you to be safe so we’re working on the case. I need you healthy so we’re taking time to help you heal. I need us to be in a better place with one another because this isn’t good enough.”

“…”

“You were almost murdered by Aso.”

“Things are better now for us than they were then.”

“You were almost captured by Yhwach.”

“Yeah…good note. But what do you get out of this?”

“I already listed that.”

“No, you listed things that benefit me.”

“Things that benefit you benefit me.”

“How does that work?”

“Really well.”

“The sarcasm isn’t helping me.”

“In these past few months of having you home, I’ve been doing better. I don’t always need my sleep aids. I eat more regularly when we share meals. I’ve had fewer headaches. Less anxiety. Improved mood.”

His son considered this and nodded. “So, even with…with all the trouble I’m dragging…it’s less stressful to have me home?”

“That and I’m glad that you’re home.”

His son stared.

“I know you’re probably not at that point yet. You’re a teenager and I’m your jailer-”

“A jailer wouldn’t get me all of this-” 

“Then we’ve made more progress.” 

“I don’t hate you,” Uryū murmured softly.

“Progress,” he quipped.

“…” His son’s expression looked pained.

“It’s alright. It didn’t all happen at once and it won’t all be mended immediately either. I know you care about me, Uryū. And I know I’ve let you down. You don’t need to say more on that until you’re ready. Do you want us to keep playing or do you want to do something else?”

“Can we go outside?”

“Of course.”

“Dr. Matsuda wants me to get sunlight.”

“Ah yes, Vitamin D. Let’s go.”

Uryū was sketching on a small art pad, leaving most of the talking to Ryūken.

Still, the boy was sitting close enough for his left arm to whisper by now and then.

It was probably the only good part of this venture so far.

Ryūken had sat down first and Uryū joined him.

A small detail, perhaps, but it was a far cry from the sullen teen who’d kept at the far end of the couch before.

Solidarity.

Neither of them were bringing up the autopsy for obvious reasons.

Even without it as a topic, the atmosphere remained awkward.

Dr. Noda, a family therapist who came highly recommended, was using a genogram to try and get them to talk about intergenerational troubles.

Apparently, if they vented about others first, they could be more tactful when they started complaining about each other.

It felt disloyal but he needed to demonstrate. “My mother was very strict. Her displeasure could be…loud. As a result, I have endeavored not to yell. I held my temper and my tongue. My son resents my silence when we are at odds. It’s frustrating. You try not to repeat something and you do something else wrong instead.”

Uryū’s pencil paused and he looked deeply uncomfortable. 

“It’s fine. Complain about me,” he encouraged his son.

They just needed it all out.

The therapist winced. “Uryū, what would you like to talk about? You’ve been very quiet.”

 “…”

“We can’t have a real conversation without you.

“…I miss my grandfather.”

It still needled him. That devotion.

“After my mother died, he was very supportive of me. We talked a lot about anything that came up.”

“He…?”

“Passed. Before Uryū was ten.”

She nodded. “To lose family members is very difficult.”

“Don’t you read the news?” Uryū grumbled softly. “It was the carbon monoxide poisoning event of the century. Mom and our whole household died except Dad and Grandpa…I survived, too, with help. Just us three.”

“That’s terrible. You both have my sympathies.”

Uryū spoke about how other children assumed he was cursed.

It hurt to hear it happened so soon after the incident.

Uryū fiddled with his pencil. “Grandpa told me I couldn’t let the hurtful words of others define me. Only I could decide what I stood for.”

Ryūken’s anger coiled. “He should’ve informed me. It needed to be reported.”

“So Dr. Ishida, is it fair to assume there was a breakdown in communication between you and your father, Mr. Ishida?”

“Very fair. He left me to my mother for nearly all of my childhood and was surprised as an adult why his opinion meant so little to me.

Uryū stared at him with huge eyes.

“Do you think that has played into how you interact with your son?” 

Light blue eyes narrowed. “I made sure to be involved, unlike him. My wife, my son, and I were very closely knit. The dynamic changed when my wife died.”

“It was very difficult then?”

“Yes.”

“Your father was also a widower after this event?”

He gripped the sofa’s arm hard with his left hand. “I was deep in grief over losing my wife. My father wasn’t nearly as emotional over losing my mother.”

“You hold that against him?”

“He couldn’t hope to understand my pain. And his own parents had long since passed.”

“Compounded as it was by multiple losses... And you nearly lost your son as well?”

He gave a terse nod.

“Did he trivialize this event and your pain?”

He remembered coming home early and finding his father in the garden laughing easily at one of Uryū’s drawings as the child talked, like Sōken had lost nothing of import, while Ryūken grieved.

“He was a shallow, self-absorbed man who put his personal ideals and pride over his family’s welfare and happiness,” he snapped.

“You think he was narcissistic?”

“I know he was narcissistic.” 

“That’s not true!” Uryū argued because he would always defend him. “He cared about you. About me. He just…talked in circles.”

“He left his wife to manage all the household tasks, relying on her family’s money to fund his ventures.”

“He wasn’t materialistic,” Uryū insisted. “He’d collect cans and take surveys.” 

“He was irresponsible. He regularly abandoned his duties as a patriarch. That put tremendous strain on his wife and made her lash out at the household.”

“And you,” Mrs. Noda gave him a compassionate look.

“Yes. And me. She isn’t blameless. But I hold him accountable. My son can’t.”

“His intentions-” 

“Hell is paved with-”

“He’s a point of contention between you?” she observed.

“Dad wants me to hate him.”

“I do not want you to hate him. I want you to see him. As he truly was. Flawed. And aspire to be more.”

“Maybe he was terrible to you but he was there for me when you weren’t.”

He couldn’t understand the fury that statement sparked.

“I was working to keep a roof over our heads, moving would have been too much for you. You were barely eating or sleeping. More change then could’ve hurt you—I needed to preserve as much normality as possible. You lived in that house for all of your life, as have I. Your mother and I fell in love there.”

“She was a maid,” Uryū explained to the woman.

Ryūken frowned. “She was a guard. Attempts had been made on our family before in times past. It was tradition to have servants raised alongside the heirs of the estate to protect and tend them.”

The therapist made notes. “You fell in love.”

His ears grew hot. “Yes.”

“Your parents?”

“Were not prepared for my rebellion and stood no chance against it.”

The therapist’s lips twitched. “Were you very obedient before?”

“Excruciatingly.”

Uryū blinked in surprise.

“Ah. Her parents?”

“Both passed in her early childhood.”

“And your marriage?”

“Wonderful. We married because we wanted to.”

Uryū flushed a little. 

“Was that reason a source of tension?”

“Yes,” he answered dryly. “My parents were arranged.”

“Yours and hers?”

“Mine, yes. I can’t speak for her. If they were arranged, it was still a deeply wanted match. The way she spoke of them suggested they were tender with one another.”

“Was…your son’s birth another source of tension for your parents’ perspective on the marriage—”

“No,” he growled at the insinuation. “Uryū was planned and wanted,” he gritted.

“I-I see. I only meant…Sometimes the timing of such things—”

Light blue eyes narrowed to slits. “My wife and I were married for some time before we began trying. And even when we began, it took more time than expected before we were successful.”

The therapist seemed a little embarrassed as she replied, “I see.”

Uryū was very red. 

Oh well. At least this could lay to rest some of those rumors he’d heard as a child.

He had been desperately longed for.

“The doctors weren’t optimistic about our chances. Even after Kanae’s pregnancy began, they were very…forthcoming about their concerns.”

“So, you feel fortunate that Uryū was born?”

This woman was a moron. Why was he paying for this?

“Alive and healthy. Of course. The birth was very difficult on my wife and most of the child rearing duties were on me for Uryū’s first few weeks. Even after my wife recovered, I remained very involved. My son and I were bonding well. I understood Uryū’s expressions and needs and our unit was very close.”

“Your family supported you during this time?”

His lips thinned.

“Or did they see this as a role-reversal from the expected-”

“A man should expect to parent a child he fathers.”

“So, they were more traditional in their ideas of fatherhood and were surprised by your actions? Did that contribute to the feeling of friction between you and your parents?”

“Grandma hated me,” Uryū volunteered.

Ryūken denied that. “She did not hate you. She was a hard woman, stoic, but not unfeeling. You can’t honestly believe she felt nothing—”

“I didn’t say she felt nothing. She felt hate.”

Ryūken felt taken aback. Izumi Ishida was complicated but she wasn’t…

Uryū continued sketching. “She felt bad about it, but whenever she looked at me there was this sense of ‘I must endure him.’”

Ryūken frowned, his mouth opened to defend her but…

Uryū’s spirit ribbon abilities had been intact then.

So, it was very possible he…read her…innermost…

How discouraging that must have felt… to a small child…

And Uryū had probably tried to prove himself worthy.

That complicated his own feelings for his mother tenfold.

“Perceiving her that way probably influenced how you felt about her in return,” Dr. Noda pointed out.

The teen shrugged. “I didn’t hate her back. She was such a miserable person. I mostly felt sorry for her.”

Ryūken flinched.

The therapist was surprised. “Why do you think that?”

Uryū looked up. “Because I was pretty happy back then. And there’s nothing worse than seeing someone happy when you’re miserable. And she had to see me every day at breakfast and dinner.”

Ryūken shook his head. “Your grandmother didn’t…” 

“She always got this worried, bitter feeling that I was going to ruin things for Dad. She tried to give me chances to prove myself but even when I did, she just got sadder. My…health wasn’t… isn’t as robust as she had wanted. I think she expected me to die young and worried over how that would impact my father.”

The Kaiser Gesang... She had probably suspected that Uryū and even herself would be chosen by Yhwach via Auswählen.

It made him upset and frustrated. He could’ve planned more, if he’d known earlier, enlisted Urahara’s aid if—

“Dad didn’t like me to ever be alone with her.”

He stilled. His son had noticed that after all.

“Do you want to comment on any of that?” The woman asked him, pen poised over her clipboard.

No. He didn’t.

“My mother…She could be very blunt. My son is sensitive. I tried to ensure that I was present whenever the two shared spaces.”

“You were afraid to leave your son alone with his grandmother. You also didn’t like him being alone with your grandfather. Given the way the two raised you?” She wrote down more notes.

It was a dysfunctional family.

The more he stared at the genogram, the more obvious it became.

The woman’s tone softened. “Do you often find yourself worrying over who your son is with or around?”

He gave her a sharp look.

“I explained the active police cases to you already over the phone,” he said.

“Yes, but—”

“You have your answer.”

Uryū looked at him.

He realized a beat later that his hands were clenched.

His son surprised him by abruptly leaning against him and handing him the sketch pad.

To accept it, it forced him to unfurl his fingers.

Sky Dragon…

He’d been drawing him more.

Ryūken was sure there was something symbolic in that—that he was serving as some kind of muse.

Only—he looked down at the picture.

Sky Dragon…alone in the den.

Somehow having the past two years summed up that way…

He wordlessly gestured for the pencil.

Uryū gave him a questioning look but obeyed.

Since it looked like Sky Dragon was contemplating a stalactite, Ryūken began a very rough doodle of Rain Dragon there.

He made the wyrmling’s serpentine body look like it was wrapped around the stalactite—being silly.

Uryū gave him a sour look.

Ryūken’s lips curved.

“Gentlemen? Is there something to see?” 

“My son is artistic and I’m not.”

She came over to peer down and raised an eyebrow. “Dragons?”

Father and son shared a look.

She blinked. “Oh. Right. You share the kanji for…”

“…”

“…”

“Are dragons a motif you both appreciate and bond over?”

To his surprise, Uryū answered first. “Yes.”

She looked at Ryūken next. 

“Yes, great care went into choosing his name.”

“Oh?”

“It was a break from tradition as I didn’t want him to have the kanji for ‘arrow.’”

“Why?”

“I wanted his future to be as free as the heavens would allow and his presence to be as rejuvenating as a rain dragon by virtue of being alive.”

Dr. Noda blinked and frowned. “And your wife agreed to this?” She gave Uryū a sympathetic look. “Such a heavy expectation to set in a name.”

Light blue eyes narrowed. “And you dare to presume he hasn’t lived up to it?”

It was the skeptical smile she gave that was the final straw.

Five minutes later, both Ishidas were in the car.

Ryūken was gripping the steering wheel hard at the stoplight. “It’s fine. I’ll find us a different therapist.”

His son started to snicker. “Woe to any who dares question my name.”

“It was terribly unprofessional of her. This was our first meeting. It sets the tone. We don’t need to accept that.”

Uryū smirked as he untwisted his seatbelt. “Whatever you say, Dad.”

“No. This is important. Take note. We do not have to stay. We do not owe others infinite chances to redeem themselves. I’m modeling behavior I want you to adopt. In a situation like this, where you are being treated poorly, leave.”

“…”

“Do you understand? Do not give them another opportunity to mistreat you.”

“Yes, I…understand, Dad.”

“Good.”

“…”

“…Your name is perfect. It suits you perfectly.”

Uryū laughed and gave him a bright smile. “Glad you think so, Dad.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Hey Dad, since I believe in grading on a curve, I’m going to say you technically made it through a session. Want to celebrate?”

“Celebrate?”

“Tessai said I have to want to do something and you need to be there, remember? And now you get how uncomfortable sessions are.”

He gripped the wheel even harder. “Was he disrespectful to you?!”

“No. And it’s still hard. So, be prepared for that. Even after you get us a new therapist.”

“Oh…fine. Where do you want to go to celebrate?” 

“Well, it’s technically—”

“No, you choose.”

Chapter Text

Uryū blinked—half-expecting the sight to fade like a mirage or shatter like one of Aizen’s tricks. The fact was… it felt more than a little weird seeing his dad in an arcade. He looked out of place in his tailored suit.

His spirit ribbon revealed he felt as awkward as he looked.

Maybe a slight guilt trip was in order?

“I…I always wanted us to come here when I was a kid. Chiyo’s family took her and Junya a lot,” Uryū told him.

A white eyebrow arched. “Wish granted. You’re still a kid.”

Uryū fought not to roll his eyes. “I’m almost eighteen.”

His father smirked. “We can have this talk again when you’re in your forties and then we can laugh about it.”

There he went again, talking about the future. Him? In his forties?

He tried to picture it.

His father chuckled.

Uryū frowned. “Whatever. You ever been to one of these places before?” He gestured to the arcade.

“Yes, Uryū, I went places as a youth. Do you just imagine me as some joyless lichen that’s affixed—”

“Yep, pretty much—” He cut him off as he hurried over to a row of claw machines to escape the sharp, scolding “Uryū!” that followed.

Ryūken hated being cut off and sassed.

He ignored the look of fatherly disapproval in the reflection of the glass and focused on the game machines.

He won three charms in quick succession. 

“You have your mother’s luck,” Ryūken noted.

“Yeah?”

He nodded.

“She never brought me to places like this,” Uryū murmured.

It was always sophisticated outings besides the crafting stores and the movie theater.

“She wanted the best for you. She preferred to take you to places that would elevate your mind.”

“Stuffy etiquette and dance lessons…she was going to make me take up an instrument. I think it was all to impress you.”

Ryūken frowned. “No, it was to benefit you. You were easily bored. We had to keep you engaged. You loved to learn. We leaned into that. Still, I didn’t want you to feel isolated so I insisted on cram school. I wanted you to befriend other young scholars.”

He stared. Yeah, that didn’t happen.

Time for some hard truths. “I think she was always worried on some level that me being a Gemischt—”

“No. You’re incorrect. I knew her, Uryū. I knew her. She only wanted what was best for you. She pushed you to be your best for your own sake. Now show me what you won.” He considered this topic over and was changing the subject hard. “What do you do with the prizes?”

“I sometimes win stuff so I have a theme to work with.”

“Oh?”

“I try to see what’s popular so I know what to make that’ll sell so I can…” He blinked, realizing that that wasn’t necessary anymore. “Make my…rent.”

He stared down at the small star, rocketship, and sundae charms.

“Your cousins might appreciate such things,” Ryūken offered. 

“Y-Yeah.”

He and his dad were both good at games that required quick reflexes.

But it was deeply satisfying to find Ryūken was terrible at racing games.

“This doesn’t handle at all like a real vehicle,” he hissed.

Uryū kept laughing so hard at his sour reactions it was a wonder he didn’t crash his own avatar or hyperventilate.

“Ohhh, I see, so you were waiting to humiliate me in a public place?!” Dad teased. “Well plotted.”

Uryū suffered another fit of laughter and grinned hard enough that his face hurt.

Later, Ryūken trailed a half step behind him as he made his way over to Skee-ball for a few rounds.

Chiyo’s mom would have gone off on her own or to buy snacks.

His dad stayed close; he wanted to spend time with him.

Or at least justify why he was there—if anyone asked he could point to his son.

Ryūken picked up the plastic gun connecting to the double sized booth after watching Uryū do so. “Are we competing again? Marksmanship?”  He sounded intrigued.

“No. Not really. I mean, it might give us accuracy percentages but we have to shoot the zombies. We’ll get farther working together. The pedals will help us duck or dodge.”

“…Teamwork?”

“Yeah. Plenty of video games have teamwork as a component.”

“Games that we bought? Are like this?” Ryūken asked as the game went through its tutorial and he began splattering the heads of zombies with ease.

“Um. There’s two scary ones. Because…I’d never hear the end of it if we didn’t have any.”

“Teamwork games?” Ryūken clarified.

“Oh… yeah, some of them.”

“How many?”

“Four I think?”

He frowned. “Only four?”

“Well yeah, but Ichigo and the twins are competitive. Tatsuki and Keigo and Mizuiro are the same-”

“Do you like teamwork-oriented games?”

He felt his face heat up. “Yeah, but only Orihime and Chad will play those with me. And Ichigo complains the whole time.”

“But you like them?”

“Yeah but…”

“We’ll get them.”

“Dad, you don’t have to…I know you’re really…I mean, I appreciate-”

“Did Sōken-er-Grandpa take you here and play?”

He blinked at the abrupt question. “No. He liked kites.”

“Ah.”

He fidgeted. “Except not really.”

“What do you mean?”

“He would just sleep under a tree while I flew one.”

On the screen, the two of them were entering a mansion and more ghouls were attacking.

“I sometimes got frustrated with him because he wouldn’t, wouldn’t…”

“I know the feeling. He was a very old father. He was absent often and strict when he was present. We didn’t play much—only games of strategy. He never carried me on his shoulders or read stories to me. I’d see the other children at school whose parents were different. Younger.”

Uryū was almost blindsided by having this intimate detail confided in him. Only, it made him feel guilty. “…Does…does it make you…angry that he took me to the park and not you?”

“What?” Ryūken reloaded his fictional weapon. “No. I worried that he was manipulating you to follow him and his traditionalist views, but it seems more now that he was encouraging you to form your own opinion. I would only want him to be kind to you. It seems he respected my wishes at least in that regard. That’s helping me forgive him.”

“I don’t understand.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

“…”

“Uryū, every time you get hurt, my soul bleeds. That’s what being a father is like.”

That didn’t make it seem worthwhile.

“Oh.”

“You’re deliberately misunderstanding me, aren’t you?” he muttered.

“You’re saying I’m the most vulnerable part of you, right?”

His father seemed taken aback. “Yes.”

“Not a compliment.”

“Yes, you’re a weakness but it’s because you matter so much.”

Uryū frowned. “Is there another way you can say this?”

“You’re being stubborn.” 

“Yeah, maybe. But I’m really having trouble hearing it the way you’re intending it. Because you mean it positively, right? But it’s not sounding like—it’s sounding like I’m a liability and a burden—”

“Of course, I—yes, I mean it—posit-I’m just not…”

Uryū turned to face him.

“Ah, Uryū! Pay attention to the screen, I can’t-” 

Crap. His dad’s avatar was being swarmed by the undead.

“Sorry.” Uryū took out the enemies. They made it another four levels before being taken out by an armored zombie enemy with high defensive capabilities. “Wow, I’ve never made it this far. Ichigo starts swinging the gun like a sword and we’re just doomed at that point.”

Ryūken chuckled.

They slid the plastic gun-shaped controllers back into their holsters.

Ryūken ruffled his hair.

Then, he cleared his throat and used his hand to gesture for a hierarchy. “Family then career for family and then community.”

“Yeah, I guess, but do you enjoy it?” 

“When I’m not being badgered for my innermost feelings.”

“Look, I’m trying to understand you and give you the benefit of the doubt but it’s difficult. You do one thing but you say something else. And sometimes what you say is very deliberate and intentional and other times you say things and they’re confusing. And sometimes what you do is that way too. And I’m left trying to figure it all out. I’m trying to make you make sense.”

“I’m human, Uryū. I won’t always make sense.”

“But then you act like I’m supposed to depend on you. Even when you’re not making sense-”

“I want to support you but that’s hard when you don’t trust me.”

“Yes, and I just told you why I’m struggling.”

“You make it sound like you want a contract.”

“You changed first. I changed after.”

“What?”

“You were one way before and then after… you… you changed and all the rules changed with you. And I just had to deal. And now we’re back in this together and I don’t want a repeat of that again. You don’t get to have all the power this time. If it gets bad, I’ll leave again.”

Ryūken nodded slowly. “…Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I will do everything I can not to drive you away. But you can’t go looking for excuses to go. I’m going to continue making mistakes and saying the wrong things. But my feelings for you have never wavered.”

“I’m still trying to gauge whether they’re good feelings or not.” 

Ryūken glowered. “Yes!” His spirit ribbon said he was getting exasperated. “They are. They are ‘good’ feelings. If your spirit detection was working correctly, you’d know-”

Uryū flushed. 

“Look, you just have to believe in me.”

“…”

“I’m sorry that’s difficult.”

“…” Uryū bit his lip. It seemed like Ryūken was being sincere.

“You’re upset.”

He nodded reluctantly.

“Here,” Ryūken offered. “Defeat me at the racing game again.”

Uryū gaped. 

“I don’t want you to leave here upset. Not when you’ve been wishing for us to finally come here. One more game and then we go.”

Uryū had been promised a snack after another session with Tessai.

And after several counseling sessions, he felt he was owed that and more.

His father was underground firing arrows presumably. 

So, apparently, Uryū was dealing with therapy better than he was.

He perused the shelves of Urahara’s storefront.

He felt a little nostalgic.

Maybe a Choco-pie?!

He had just selected it when there was a loud bang as a hand hit the locked door of Urahara’s shop.

“Oi, Uryū?! Open up!” Ichigo demanded.

He carefully walked over to the door. “The shop is closed today.”

“Open up!” He shook the door.

“What the hell?” Uryū checked his watch. It was only lunchtime. “Why would you just rush over here and attempt to barge in?! You’re bound to be late getting back!”

“You’re not answering your phone!”

“I have to deal with this on my own! When I have a plan, I’ll let you-”

The ceiling tiles were making weird sounds.

Creepy.

He looked up. “Uhhh…wha?”

One and then another moved, but he didn’t sense a Hollow—it was—

“O-Orihime?!” he called out in disbelief.

A tile moved and the redhead peeked out, hair falling comically. 

She grinned. “Hey Uryū!”

Like this meeting was normal.

“What? Why are you…?”

“Karumi told me that you snuck into her finishing school ceremony like this. And you and Chiyo even interrupted Chiba’s detentions this way.” 

“Uh, yeah?” It was embarrassing having that dredged up now.

“Hee hee, you were so rebellious.”

“Ha ha? Yeah?” This was so weird.

“Say Uryū, can we talk?”

“…Sure. Let me get you a ladder. You shouldn’t let all the blood rush to your head.”

“No need!” She dropped down. “Ta daa! I did it.”

“That was kind of dangerous.”

“I wanted to show you.” She pulled out a handful of Polaroids. 

He immediately recognized her and Tatsuki grinning at the camera.

“Go on, look. So we’re even.”

He shuffled through the photos.

Was this because she sensed how much privacy he’d lost with their interest in his middle school years?

Abruptly, her hair was cut very short.

He blinked, caught off guard.

“I was bullied so much over the color by my classmates. Every day. Every single day. I ended up hating my hair. I wanted it to be less noticeable. So I cut it. It’s weird isn’t it? How people who should have no say, end up making our decisions for us. That we should have to change to appease others.”

His eyebrows drew together. Orihime was a very sensitive soul. She shouldn’t have had to deal with that.

“Tatsuki protected me and I was able to grow it longer. Now I’m able to protect myself. All of me is worth protecting to the ends of my hair.”

“Of course,” he murmured softly.

Her long hair was a symbol of strength now.

“But I know how loud those voices from the past can be so-so-so I need you to know: Your eyes are welcome.”

He chuckled softly. “Thank you, Orihime.”

He split the chocolate pie with her.

Ichigo whining as they ate it in front of him, made it even more enjoyable.

Orihime seemed to feel a little guilty but—

“It’s a friendship snack,” Uryū explained, like they were all back in elementary school. “She put more effort than you, Ichigo. Therefore, she deserves to be rewarded.”

“I can’t break down the damn door, Ishida! Urahara would have my head.”

“Orihime found a way in.”

“You know I can’t fit through the rafters like she did!”

The best part was—

“Oh hey, Chad!” Uryū greeted nonchalantly.

“Hey Uryū,” Chad greeted as he entered the space.

“Hi Chad!” Orihime waved.

“Chad!?” Ichigo squawked, “How the hell did you get in there?” 

“Shh. But seriously, Chad,” Uryū whispered. “How did you get in?”

“I texted Tessai. He let me in through the back.”

Uryū smirked. “Okay. Nobody tell him that’s an option. Grab more snacks, I’ll pay.”

Ichigo was flabbergasted. “How did he get in? Chad! How did you-”

“Because it mattered!” Uryū argued dramatically. “They all clearly care about me more than you do, Cousin Ichigo! Here I am in the middle of a crisis and you won’t even risk a little property damage!”

“Yet more proof that even standard humans can be pretty despicable,” Urahara tutted from where he was seated after being caught up.

Ryūken bowed. “Please, all of you, I need your help to keep him safe. Enemies are threatening him as a human and as a Quincy. I fear I’m not enough to—”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. I’ll help. Isshin’s already helping. So’s Tessai. Yoruichi, you’ve done some scouting of the Sasaharas. Are they dirty?”

“Obviously,” Yoruichi scoffed. “They’re used to paving their way with money. It’s looking like they were hoping a violent attack could throw off Uryū’s academic performance. That way their daughter could take over as first rank and student council president. They feel she needs that to have an edge with university admissions.”

Ryūken was sure a vein was pulsing in his jaw. “The extent of the attack?”

“Still working on that. I don’t think they intended on killing him but it was definitely supposed to hurt and intimidate him. You know, break his spirit?”

Ryūken’s glasses flashed. “I see. Possible evidence tying them to it?”

“It’s all talk. You’d need to persuade the staff to turn them in. From conversations I’ve eavesdropped on—and boy does the serving staff have juicy tips—they’re definitely behind the June mugging.”

“Uryū thinks the remaining attackers are dead,” Ryūken said.

They all stared at him.

“He doesn’t sense their spirit ribbons,” he followed up.

All the adults started swearing. 

“He could sense the attackers?!” Isshin was gobsmacked.

“Why the hell didn’t he tell us so we could track them down?!” Yoruichi demanded.

Ryūken sighed. “I know. I know. I asked him the same thing. He shrugged it off.”

“How would he know? They could just be beyond his limit?”

“He insists he has a very wide range.”

Kisuke looked very intrigued. “Can he sense where they were last?”

“I can ask.”

“Ask.”

“I have another request.”

“You’re just full of them, huh?”

“Still silver arrow,” he reminded.

“Gonna ride that, huh?” Urahara sighed.

“Yes. I also cover for a lot of unusual deaths resulting from paranormal circumstances. There were quite a few dead Fullbringers that my morgue had to deal with.”

“…Yeah.” Urahara fiddled with his fan. “Let’s hear it. What else do you want?”

“I have one copy of ‘Sensei Ishida’ but there’s additional footage I don’t have.”

“You want me to make additional copies of what the police confiscated?”

“Yes.”

“Sure. Okay. Jinta has a game on Wednesday and I promised I would attend this one.”

“I understand.”

“But I can do that this Thursday? Will Thursday work?”

“Yes. After four.” He was planning to take Uryū to the arcade again.

They had to meet with the police in the morning on that day. He needed good activities to follow as a way to reward his child and get him to decompress.

Sushi bar.

Video game shop.

Comic book store.

Arcade.

Then, he could put Uryū down for a nap and meet up with Urahara.

He blinked and winced a little at that. He knew his son was seventeen but studies were showing teenagers benefited from naps.

And Uryū was still recovering from periodic bouts of insomnia and poor quality sleep.

And maybe it was the parent in him but…

He abruptly remembered his teenager laughing at him until he was breathless yesterday.

And all because his racecar avatar had smashed into the wall on a banked turn and flipped over into the grandstands.

“The machine is defective,” Ryūken stated.

“Daaad!” Uryū laughed.

“The wheel is touchy.”

That set off another round of laughter.

And with his son beside him, beaming at him, and genuinely happy in the moment.

In the moment… with him.

Not reminiscing. 

It was easy to peel back time:

“Daddy! Again!” his three-year-old cried in delight—setting the plastic dragon toy in his hand and clapping his hands. Because Uryū liked to see the dragon “win” against knights and samurai figurines. He grinned widely. “Again. Pweeease?”

“You…you keep…ha…complaining about the wheel…wanna… switch sides?” Uryū offered through snickers.

“Again. Pweeease?”

It was easy to come back into the present, feeling more confident. He could still make good memories with his child.

“Sure. You’ll see the wheel is broken.”

He lost just as badly. Maybe worse.  

His son chatted his ear off on the drive home and had a second helping at dinner.

“It’s a plan.” Urahara wrote it down. “I get to look at them, too.”

“I figured you would.”

“Unlocked some more videos.”

Ryūken checked his watch. “It has to be quick. He could come down here. I’m not sure if he’s ready to narrate his thoughts to these, yet.”

The video mainly involved using reishi footholds and platforms while firing arrows. 

Ryūken immediately noticed that Uryū’s balance was off when he tried to hover in stationary holds.

Yhwach noticed, too.

“Once we synchronize I can help you with this.” He gestured to Uryū stance.

“Why don’t you think I can learn it now?”

“Concentration and determination won’t fix it.”

Only trust in his own abilities. Tranquility.

Light blue eyes widened.

“Faith…”

All of his issues stemmed from faith.

It was ironic and awful because he’d been such a loud zealot.

It was what he had left.

He’d been struggling at home, struggling at school, and struggling against Hollows.

His family was broken but there wasn’t much he could do.

Humans were bad but there wasn’t much he could do.

He’d needed something simple to set his faith in: Hollows and Reapers were bad and he could fight them.

Rage against them.

But Ichigo had complicated it.

He’d bridged his misgivings of soul reapers and Quincies by putting his trust in Ichigo and Sōken.

If that were true, then his son had been clinging to their heritage even as his own faith in it had been crumbling.

Sōken had served in the Wandenreich.

And Ichigo…

“Ichigo had killed Quilge by this point, correct?” Ryūken asked.

“Uh, yeah? I think so. Why?” Urahara replied.

“Is it reasonable to think Yhwach told Uryū of it?”

“Good point.”

When Uryū’s energy gave out, he ended up catching himself on the edge of a great freestanding pillar.

“Uryū, let go,” Yhwach commanded.

“What?! I’ll fall!”

Yhwach’s head tilted to the side. “Then fall. You’ll never reach your full potential if you’re always holding back.”

Dark blue eyes went wide.

“I deserve you at your greatest serving me.”

“I…I’ll fall.” His fingertips, his nails were bleeding.

“Do you think Ichigo troubles himself over such trifles?”

“…I’m not Ichigo.”

“No, you’re not.”

Uryū managed to use one last reishi foothold to heft himself onto the top of the pillar. 

Yhwach seemed surprised.

He’d assumed all of Uryū’s energy was spent. 

The boy shrugged and smirked slightly. 

He wasn’t Ichigo and didn’t want to be.

Ichigo could cover the brute force angle.

Uryū would fight smart.

Ryūken felt proud of his son.

Yhwach scowled and left.

Another video of training began but Uryū was entirely alone. He fired arrow after arrow until his fingers bled.

Ryūken knew the sting too well and subconsciously flexed his fingers.

His son practiced reishi footholds until he could not hold his weight anymore and then he climbed the stairs of the tallest tower.

He didn’t knock. Instead—

“Your Majesty?” he called.

“Come in.” 

He pushed the door open.

Yhwach was seated at a desk half-shrouded in darkness.

Papers that looked like they had information detailing Shinigami spells and defenses.

“Squad Zero,” Yoruichi murmured.

Uryū bowed his head. “I have disappointed you, Your Majesty.”

“You have.”

“May I redeem myself?”

“In what manner? A test? An essay? A long philosophical conversation?” The Quincy King sounded bored.

Uryū unclasped his bracelet. He offered one end of it to Yhwach and kept the other.

The Quincy cross dangled in the middle.

Uryū gave a slight tug, like a child prompting an indulgent parent to follow.

The corner of Yhwach’s mouth twitched.

He stood and he allowed himself to be led.

Uryū brought them out onto the room’s balcony that overlooked the city.

A small bistro table and chairs hinted that the Quincy king could appreciate the view of his realm, desolate and doomed as it was. That he might even entertain on a whim.

Without releasing the thin bracelet, Uryū climbed the railing and balanced precariously.

He leaned back—the only thing keeping him from a fatal 300 meter plunge was the thin chain connecting ruler and successor.

He was too exhausted to perform hirenkyaku.

The fall would kill him.

The two locked gazes.

Wind whipped at Uryū’s hair and Sternritter cloak. 

His tone betrayed no hesitancy or fear. “Your order, sir?”

An unholy satisfaction glinted in Yhwach’s eyes. “Let go.”

He did.

Yhwach caught the bracelet before the pendant could slide off. He set the piece in an inner breast pocket.

He removed his maroon cloak and tossed it casually.

He was already gone before the material landed on a chair.

Abruptly, the video refocused to Yhwach walking along the main street of Silburn.

He raised his arms before him, like a dark messiah feigning benevolence.

Without breaking stride, he caught Uryū—one arm bracing his back and the other under his legs.

“Damn,” Isshin swore softly.

Yhwach set Uryū gingerly down on his feet, though he kept a supportive arm around him.

With his free hand, he caught Uryū’s glasses.

He turned and delicately set the frames on Uryū’s face. 

“Daaaamn,” Isshin muttered. 

Yhwach smiled. “When I give a command—”

“I obey.” Uryū pushed up his glasses.

Yhwach tutted sympathetically and took his successor’s injured hands in his—healing them in a flash of blue reishi.

“I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Of course, my son. I only want for you to succeed.”

“Yes, I know,” the boy replied tersely.

“Are you angry about this lesson?”

“What I feel is irrelevant.”

Yhwach sighed. “You can be angry. I have offended you. Tell me the reason.”

At that point several of the highest ranking Sternritters passed by: Gerard, Lille Barro, and Askin Nakk Le Varr were among them.

Uryū looked away.

“Uryū.”

Ryūken’s eyes flashed. That monster had no right to give that long suffering tone.

Uryū’s eyes flashed at hearing it. 

“Go on, my child. I can take it.”

“You value obedience over intelligence!” he spat as he crossed his arms and glared in the direction of the Sternritters.

Urahara burst out laughing. “Yes, that would offend Uryū.”

“Why am I even here?! You made a big deal about me being a genius and for what?! It doesn’t even matter. You could let me just splatter—”

“Of course it matters,” the Quincy ruler crooned. “The obedience matters. I have to know I can give you an order and you’ll follow it. And you need to know. That when you fall, I’ll catch you.”

This stunned Uryū into silence. 

“Ryuu? You okay?” 

At some point he’d fallen to his knees.

“Ryuu?”

An alarm blared. Someone was breaking into the storefront.

His son was up there!

“Uryū?!”

Ryūken’s eyebrow twitched and he had a stress headache forming behind his right eye.

He’d rushed with the full power of hirenkyaku just to find his idiot son had goaded his idiot nephew into breaking down a door.

Isshin swatted his son on the head. “That’s coming out of your pocket.”

Panic gave way to irritation and Ryūken paced as he lectured, “What were you thinking? Why would you do that?!”

Uryū shrugged his shoulders. “I thought it would be funny.”

“You thought breaking and entering was funny?”

“I kinda expected Urahara to have a booby trap.”

“Asshole!” Ichigo growled. 

Yasutora and Orihime were assisting Tessai and Urahara with sweeping.

“Grab a broom to help clean up the mess.”

“Yes, sir.”

When the other children left to return to school, Uryū moved the buckets of broken glass back toward the ruined door.

Ryūken frowned. He’d told him to take that to the dumpster.

The boy was ignoring him.

Kisuke abruptly set a hand on his shoulder. 

Uryū put down a tarp and set a large rock on it.

He straightened and faced the door.

“Antithesis.”

Crack!

The glass door of the shop was back but the rock on the tarp was shattered.

The rock had been used to… break the door? And now it was…

Uryū folded the tarp and set it into one of the buckets which, from the sound, had been empty following the technique.

Ryūken felt uneasy at witnessing the schrift up close.

Transference of events…

Kisuke whistled. “Thanks, Uryū. You saved me some hassle.”

The boy flinched, so focused on his task he hadn’t noticed he’d had an audience.

Antithesis…

The counter to Almighty…

Five special war threats…

Yet, Uryū hadn’t been listed as one.

Or was he…special war threat zero?

Observed for years? Immediately recruited?

When they were driving home, his son murmured, “I can’t believe they all came here to see me.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Huh? Oh…I mean, yeah.”

“They’ve all been calling you.”

Constantly.

“Yeah…”

“Are you ready? We can host them at the house.”

His son turned a little green. 

“I still need to talk to Towa,” Ryūken said resolutely. “As well as Chiyo and her parents. Chiba seemed enthusiastic about reporting.”

“…”

“Are you ready, Son?” 

“Towa, I guess.”

He nodded. “Today?”

“No.”

“Tomorrow?”

Uryū grimaced. “Fine.”

His alarm clock blared.

Ryūken yawned and stretched to turn it off.

He put his glasses on and squinted at the digital numbers.

It was 6 am on November 6th.

He frowned. Uryū’s birthday had come fast.

Eighteen. 

He rolled back to stare at the ceiling.

He could start teaching him to drive today.

Ryūken had loved the thrill that came with cars as a teenager.

His lips curved; he’d need to choose a simple route today so Uryū could build confidence.

“He’s eighteen, Kanae.”

“Mm?” Kanae murmured sleepily.

He jolted. Light blue eyes widened in shock.

He turned and resting beside him on the master bed—

Kanae?!

He swallowed hard; he had missed her so…

His Kanae…

Beautiful as ever, though older than her photos, a few strands of gray were nestled in her long dark hair. She wore it well. He tucked a lock behind her ear.

The fold of her nightgown was slack, exposing scarring on her chest where she’d had both traditional heart surgery and the restoration of her Quincy powers.

She mumbled softly.

She was so beautiful.

Overjoyed, he kissed her cheek gently, almost reverently—half fearful of disturbing her and shattering this miracle.

He needed to tell Uryū. Right now.

Somehow, against all odds, they had been blessed. A birthday wish granted by the heavens? The mercy of the Soul King?!

It took every ounce of willpower to pull him from her side. Not to wake her and let their passions overtake them.

Uryū deserved to know his mother had returned.

He hurried to their son’s room, opened the door, and found it exactly as it had been when Uryū was eight years old.

“…Uryū?”

Toys and plushies were thoughtfully arranged on the window seat. Educational posters of the solar system and the human circulatory system were still on the walls.

There were nightlights in the outlets. 

Small shoes and slippers were there.

The child-sized doctor’s coat his son had liked to play pretend with was hanging on a closet hook—prominently displayed. It was his favorite. 

Pictures of Uryū were on the walls—he was never older than eight.

He stared, heart constricting.

What the hell was this?!

What sick joke was this?!

The small bed was made neatly. The little desk and chair were back. 

He couldn’t sense his son’s energy properly; the echoes of it here were faded and stagnant.

The room was cold and stuffy. 

A terrible stillness was here. An impenetrable doom…

He stared around feeling numb. It was November and his son’s humidifier and electric blanket weren’t even set out.

Uryū needed to stay warm; he could catch a chill easily.

He had allergies; the air needed to be better. The filters needed to be changed monthly. Or how would he be comfortable?

A very small pair of glasses were set on top of a stack of books—his favorite bedtime stories—a mix of fiction and nonfiction. 

Medical books and fairytales and silly poems…

Ryūken reached for the glasses.

Their son, no matter his age, needed his glasses.

“Ryūken?” Kanae murmured worriedly from the doorway. “Dear husband…I…I know today is hard. It’s…it’s always—”

His little dragon needed his glasses.

“Uryū?” he whispered as he cradled the small frames in his hands. 

How would he see without these?

Footsteps shuffled forward. 

Arms encircled Ryūken’s waist from behind and he felt the warm wetness of Kanae’s tears soaking through his pajamas.

She tried to keep her voice bright. “We’ll visit him. Our little dragon. Of course we will. It’s his birthday. He liked having a special breakfast out…we’ll ask for a small amount as an offering. He always liked gathering edelweiss for me. We’ll bring those, too, from the garden. Maybe some toys he’d like? I saw a window display with a toy stethoscope. We can get it gift-wrapped for him if you’d like—”

Ryūken awoke with a sob of grief.

Chapter Text

Ryūken forced himself to count and breathe so as to not hyperventilate. 

He mopped at his face with his sleeve.

“K-Kanae?” he called uncertainly.

There was no answer.

He reached for his glasses, dropped them, and cursed.

When he retrieved them and got them on, he checked the clock. 

2 am.

October.

It was still October.

His breathing kept hitching.

See, idiot? It was just a nightmare.

A nightmare. Where the price of one miracle was—

He rushed to the guest room’s bathroom and vomited.

He flushed the toilet and washed his hands.

He gargled water and washed his face. 

This wasn’t his first nightmare about his child dying but…

In others, it was the result of stupid choices his son made and Hollows and while that made it no less painful—

To lose his eight-year-old to the Auswählen instead…

Or…as a result of antithesis…

Because his son was selfless enough to sacrifice himself for his mother, just as she—

He threw up again—barely making it to the toilet.

Another sound of grief escaped.

He flushed the toilet again, gargled with more water. Washed his face.

He stared at his bloodshot reflection.

For one horrifying moment, he envisioned a universe where he’d had to perform that autopsy on his eight-year-old instead.

“See? I’ll be a doctor, too! And I’ll go to work with you, Daddy! I’ll get to see you all day! At home and at the hospital!” 

It took longer to recover from that.

Some time after the dry heaves finally ended, he just sat shivering on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor until he willed himself to take a shower.

He’d thought nightmares like this had run their course.

This one… that showed a passage of time…gave new horror…

He hastily shut the water off and toweled himself dry. He brushed his teeth. He changed into fresh sleepwear.

He moved back into the bedroom and abruptly reached for his wallet. He went towards the window where moonlight was filtering into the room.

There. His new photos of Uryū were there.

See? Seventeen.

Go back to sleep.

But a photo was a poor substitute for a loved one.

Barging in now would bother him.

He could wait until morning. Would see him at breakfast, puffy-eyed and slightly irritable as he sat across from him because Uryū had never been much of a morning person.

Go back to bed.

But Uryū was close by and it would only take a minute and he’d driven further for less reassurance before—just to sit in his car after his work shift ended for several days in a row outside that shabby apartment complex to smoke a pack of cigarettes with one window cracked.

Until finally! There was Uryū being dropped off by what looked for all intents and purposes like a flying carpet because Urahara didn’t understand how to be discreet. But he still didn’t drive away until he was absolutely certain that Uryū had made it into his unit and had settled in to sleep.

Why didn’t he intervene then? He could have brought him home right then. 

Confronted him about risking his life.

Reported their situation to the police and exposed the apartment complex’s shady dealings.

Instead…

He let the estrangement last. Let his son’s mental health deteriorate. Let the two of them suffer…

Ryūken was unsteady as he left the guest room and traveled to his son’s bedroom.

Several minutes passed with him standing outside the door, tormented by echoes of that nightmare until—

He used his spirit detection and sensed Uryū’s energy within.

Fresh. Alive. Concentrated beyond the door.

He sighed in relief and still entered.

All the furnishings were geared for an older child.

See? Here. Safe. Go back to bed.

His teenager was sleeping.

He walked over to the bed to watch him breathe.

He used to do that for Uryū when he was a baby. He’d stay up late studying and watching out for SIDS with hyper-vigilance the whole first year of his son’s life.

There was something incredibly comforting in watching his son’s chest rise and fall.

Five minutes. 

He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. He’d give himself five minutes. And then go and wait until morning.

Only…

He frowned in concern.

Uryū was breathing too fast.

Medical distress? Pneumonia? Pulmonary embolism? He turned on the bedside table’s lamp to check his pallor.

His skin wasn’t blue.

Anxiety?

His mouth was moving slightly.

“Uryū?”

“…Stop…help…someone…please help.”

He immediately moved forward. “I’m here.” He rested a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Someone, help me, please.”

He cleared his throat to get more strength in it. “Uryū, Dad’s here.”

The child quieted for a few moments but then snapped, “Why are you here?!” 

He flinched and opened his mouth, uncertain whether to voice the nightmare he’d had.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He frowned—that tone was unnecessary. “…” 

“Are you drunk?” Uryū demanded belligerently.

Ryūken reared back, offended. “No. I was just checking on you to make sure you’re alright.”

“What’s it to you?”

His nostrils flared. He was still the master of this house and was owed some modicum of respect—

“What are you doing? Get back. You’re crazy. You’re sick. How dare you! Let go of me!”

Wait. This wasn’t aimed at him at all. 

“Let go! Stop! Help! Someone-help! SOMEBODY! HELP ME!”

He was reliving the attack.

“HELLLP!”

The keening shriek put his teeth on edge and gave him chills. 

“I’m HERE!” he bellowed back. “Dad’s here!” He shook him awake.

Uryū’s eyes were glassy as they opened. “No… please…stop…don’t do…this…someone…help me-”

“Help is here. I’m here.” He tapped the boy’s cheek gently but persistently to rouse him more. “Come on, let’s-let’s…we’ll…come on. Come with Dad.”

Blue eyes shifted to focus on him.

“Daaad?” he slurred. “Dad?” 

“Yes, yes. Right here.”

He stared for a full beat and then broke his father’s heart when he reached both arms for him urgently and whimpered, “Dad-dad-dad-dad-dad-”

“Yes. Very good. It’s Dad. Dad’s here. Let’s go.” He scooped him up.

They sat together on the couch as the weatherman droned on. Temperatures were going to continue dropping this week.

“Hm. We should get you more sweaters,” Ryūken decided.

“Hmmkay.”

“Last New Year’s, you had a very thin jacket on. I worried that you were going to get hyperthermia. We’ll need to get you a better one.” He glanced down fondly at the child nestled against him.

“Mmhmkay.”

“It didn’t look like any of your clothing from the apartment was appropriate for winter temperatures, let alone snow. Do you think your landlady took your more quality clothing?”

“Hrrrrmmm.” He pressed his face into Ryūken’s chest and then looked up and squinted at him.

He’d done that ever since he was a baby.

He gently moved strands of hair out of his son’s face. “That’s fine. I’ll get you what you need.”

“Mmhmm.”

“That’s right. Mmhmm. You can count on Dad. We should get you some winter headwear, too.” He then tucked the dark, sleek hair behind his son’s ears. “Ears are susceptible to frostbite, you know.” He talked a bit unnecessarily about the circulatory system because it felt good to talk. To him. About this.

“Hmmmmph.”

Even that sound was a Godsend. 

“If you don’t wear your earmuffs, I have to get you hats. Or I’ll worry. I can’t help it. I-I think about you all the time. I can be driving or performing an operation. I can be in a store or reading a magazine and something will remind me of you. It could be anything. And I feel better. Immediately. Even if it means I’m worried. Did you know that?”

“Yesss…”

“You do know?” He rested his head atop of his son’s. “That’s good. I was worried you didn’t. When we were in the arcade, you seemed very unsure. That makes me—”

“You said so…”

“I said so?”

“‘Only happiness…to Mom…and you.’”

He blinked hard. “Smart boy. That’s right. You’re right. I’m glad you remember that.” He nuzzled his face into dark hair. “You need to always remember that. That’s why I need you to stay with me. And I need you to be safe. Always.”

“Yeah.” 

“Good boy.”

“Mmhm.” Uryū was very tired. That was why he didn’t mind being held. Usually, he struggled more with his dignity as a teenager and the embarrassment of needing support.

It worked out. Tired Uryū was as affectionate as he was sensible.

“Daaad, did I…wake you up?” His concerned voice was slurred with fatigue.

“No, my little dragon, I had a nightmare. Maybe it was a premonition that you needed me? Since you had one, too?”

“…Oh? Bad?”

“Yes. Very. Was yours?” He busied himself with fixing Uryū’s part. It had gotten crooked over the last few days, proving his son didn’t always take good notice of his appearance.

He combed his fingers gently through the strands.

“Yeah. Aso. You?”

“I…I couldn’t find you, Ryū. You were gone. Taken from me.”

“…Me?” Uryū moved a little restlessly to stare up at him. 

His eyes were so big.

He wasn’t wearing his glasses. 

That sent a pang through his heart.

Uryū arched an eyebrow. “That’s scary?”

“It is.” He blinked rapidly and swallowed hard. “Very scary.”

“Hmmm.” Uryū leaned against him once more. He craned his neck to look up. 

Ryūken shifted to compensate and support his son’s neck. Like he always did. Ever since he was born.

“Daaad?”

“Yes, Ryū?”

“Daaad? Would you… have beat Aso up?” There was a note of hopeful spite in that tone.

Beaten him up? If Aso was lucky and Ryūken managed to employ Herculean restraint.

“I would have protected you, Uryū,” he assured instead. Because it sounded a good deal less messy than reality and he was trying to keep his child in a tranquil state.

“But what if…it got you… in trouble?”

He brushed the child’s fringe back. “You are my priority.”

“…”

“I would never just stand there, Uryū, and allow that.”

“I…I couldn’t beat him… but I…fought him off.”

“Yes, you did very well. Very brave and capable. You should feel proud.”

Apparently, that was what his son really wanted to hear. He smiled and curled into him.

Ryūken tucked the blanket around him.

The television screen was giving the projected forecast of the week. 

Maybe…it was worth asking now?

“Did you hear how Aso lost his eye? Dr. Oguro asked his son and his son’s friends and there are lots of rumors. Uryū?”

From ordinary afflictions like infection to yakuza street brawls to retinal detachment after a car crash.

“Mmhm.” His son was resting peacefully against him.

“Do you know?”

“Mmhm.”

“Can you tell me?”

He smiled sleepily at him, proving just with that that he wasn’t listening to him. “…Proud of me?”

Like he was eight years old and wanted praise for a perfect score on his spelling test.

“Always.”

Uryū sighed contentedly. 

His son often looked worried or serious while unconscious—like he slept only out of resignation.

He looked even younger than he was when he was resting happily. 

This was worth safeguarding. 

“Sleep well, I’m right here,” he promised.

There would be more time to talk later.

Because Uryū was here. He was here. He was here.

And Ryūken would do everything he could to keep him here.

Towa Tsugi, soon to be Chiba, was visibly nervous as he sat down across from Ryūken in a shabby coffee shop after school finished.

The place was entirely too bohemian for Ryūken’s tastes but they didn’t mind Yoruichi slinking in a few minutes after he was seated at all.

Her cat form had gotten multiple scratches, pets, and praise from customers and servers alike, which made Ryūken cringe. He didn’t want to eat any of the food prepared here.

But this was where Tsu-Chi-Towa wanted to meet.

Isshin was attending in Shinigami form.

Ryūken had asked for backup because he was functioning on less than three hours of sleep and needed support.

Uryū had backed out of this meeting at the last minute, which was incredibly suspicious.

Urahara and Tessai were keeping tabs on him. He’d texted them immediately after Uryū mentioned a classmate wanted to deliver him a packet of homework and he needed to go now to catch up with them.

So that was one more thing to worry about.

As for Towa…he didn’t glare at Ryūken with mistrust.

Though, that didn’t set him at ease.

Karumi had been perfectly polite and cold when she’d spoken to him and the officers over a week ago. Her allegiance was to Uryū—right or wrong.

Towa seemed uncertain. 

Ryūken could work with uncertain. 

Uncertain could be won over, right?

“Thank you for coming. I deeply appreciate it,” Ryuken began.

Towa nodded. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t come sooner. I want to help. I do. It’s…school and sports and-I’m sorry. I’m nervous. I-I-I don’t really talk to people like you. Um…”

People like him? He felt their difference in class. Uryu had bridged it despite being born into the same social status.

He needed to be charming. It felt like an even taller order than usual. 

Sometimes, the staff warned him when a patient had a hospital phobia and was a flight risk.

Warm, welcoming, charming, trustworthy…

“You have appeared and I am grateful. It is very mature of you to want to help. The folder you gave me was very well-organized.” He pushed his glasses up and nodded approvingly.

Tsuji looked hopeful right then and the corner of his mouth lifted. “S-sorry, it’s just…Uryū does that. You look a lot alike.”

“Finally. Someone observant. Yes. My son takes after me in many regards.” 

“…”

“Talk yourself up,” Isshin advised. “Why should he bet on you?”

“I was visiting the school to ask some questions about bullying incidents in the past and I…noticed Uryū’s awards there. I asked why they had them. And a teacher told me they had my permission, which they didn’t.”

“And you got them?” Towa perked up. 

“Yes. It didn’t feel right seeing them there. My son worked so hard and they reaped the benefit? It…it caused a deep, visceral feeling of…mistrust. I figured if Uryū wanted to donate them, that was fine. But I needed to hear it from him. At home where it’s safe. On his own terms where no one could pressure him.”

Towa nodded emphatically. “Cuz he’ll do the model student thing even if screws him over!”

“Precisely. He hasn’t said anything about donating them back so I know I made the right call.”

“Yeah, he worked for those. I’d worry because I was like ‘When do you sleep, Uryū?’ And he just sorta laughed it off. But I don’t think he did sometimes. He was supposed to pick them up before the last day of school but he didn’t show up—I remember that they had even given him the keys to the cabinet…the last day we saw him. He kept getting interrupted. I told him I’d help him empty it if it came down to the last day. I know his apartment was small. We could’ve kept his stuff at the dojo for him. Why not? We’re holding other stuff.”

“Oh?”

Towa blinked as if realizing he’d let something important slip.

Damn it, he was going to clam up.

“Yeah, Dad…er…Mr. Chiba adopted me and Suna…er Setsuna. His niece.”

Or not.

“Yes, I heard. That was very pleasant news. He’s a fortunate man to call you both family.”

The boy smiled a little bashfully. “Yeah. Dad learned of my…situation during the play and…then Uryū…alerted him that-that Suna also wanted to be adopted and…now, we’re a family. The three of us. Though…” He gave a weak laugh. “Watch out. Dad’s ready to adopt Uryū, too.”

Ryūken instinctively glowered.

To his surprise, Towa looked relieved. Perhaps one sibling was enough?

“Keeps his things at the dojo?” Isshin prompted.

“Why are you holding onto Uryū’s things?”

“We were already holding some stuff that he didn’t have space for and then he was worried about his place flooding this last June so we got more stuff. Geez, I feel dumb for not telling you before. I mean, you’ve got room. Er, that came out wrong. I mean, do you want them?”

“Of course. His things should be at home.”

“I’ll tell Dad.”

After the server took their orders, Ryūken relayed Isshin’s questions about Fuji but the boy hadn’t known her personally either.

“But that’s not what you really want to ask me about, is it? Sir?” Towa stared hard at his glass of soda.

Ryūken drank from his coffee—hoping that whatever germs were there had been boiled out. “I want to know about the end of middle school. The last days. When he didn’t show up.”

Towa’s eyes widened and he nodded slightly.

“You’re not in any trouble,” Ryūken told him gently. And then he decided to just speak strategically. “I’m just…”

“Come on, Ryuu, sell it,” Isshin encouraged.

“I’m worried.”

“…”

“I’m… I…” His throat closed up.

Isshin sighed and hit his forehead. “Why are you so bad at this?”

Towa took a deep breath. “I want to believe you deserve to know and that you can help me understand which parts are most important to tell the police. I mean, you’re smart.”

He almost scoffed because surgeons often were.

“You check Uryū’s homework for him,” Towa murmured.

There was something disarming in that.

Young. They were all young. Terribly young.

Uryū trusting him on that front made him trustworthy in general to this boy.

It made something ache in him. All these children who trusted his child completely. They’d still put their faith in his judgment even when it was proven he didn’t always know what was best.

But his intent was good. It was good all the way through. And that was enough for them.

Ryūken had to prove himself.

It was a stark comparison. 

He was not as selfless as Uryū. Not as pure-hearted and idealistic.

Had probably never been, even as a child himself.

He looked at Towa.

But neither had they.

“Yes,” he agreed simply. “I always want to help him. He’s my son.”

Towa stared him down and there was something so desperate in it. “You …you really do care about him? Right? You’re not just flexing because you’re a hotshot hospital director and stuff?”

“I’m his father before I’m—”

“Not just on paper or pedigree—” 

His temper rose and his eyes flashed. “Yes. Regardless of whatever he may have said to you in a juvenile fit of insecurity since he left home and sent my blood pressure skyrocketing, I have never changed any lock or passcode in case he ever came to his senses and returned. I did everything I could to make returning simple, short of picking him up and carrying him back-”

“Ha!”

Ryūken stiffened at the harsh sound.

“It’s…just…kinda… funny you should phrase it like that.” Towa’s mouth trembled and he smiled very miserably.

Ryūken waited—stomach flopping—acid from the coffee and bile were making his mouth taste sour.

“I just…I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that your son saved me. He did. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if he hadn’t intervened in my life the way he did. If he hadn’t argued with my aunt where everyone could see and hear. Where Dad could witness and help. I almost believed her. The stuff she said. Only, Uryū wouldn’t let me. He wouldn’t let me. That changed everything. And I promised myself as a kid to return the favor and I have.”

That was ominous.

Ryūken frowned. “Tell me.”

Towa faces him grimly. “When I say I’d go into a burning building to save your son, I mean it. I have. When his apartment building caught fire, I got him out. I picked him up and carried him out.”

Ryūken was stunned.

And got a swat from Isshin.

“Tell me.”

“I…I don’t know much but he was really hurt. It was awful.” He put his head in his hands. “It was…I tried to be careful when I carried him out, but he was so hurt. And I don’t know how long he was in there for. There was so much smoke.”

The smoke inhalation in his records…

“…His apartment?” Ryūken clarified.

The ruined unit, he’d spied in the distance.

Towa nodded. “I saw it in the news and I headed right over and I didn’t see him standing with the other tenants.”

“…”

“The news said it was a drug lab explosion, but…I dunno.”

“What do you mean?”

Towa moved his sports glasses up and rubbed the indentations in his nose. “His door was all busted in. He was bleeding on the floor. Building was on fire. If I hadn’t gotten him out…” He blinked hard and rubbed his eyes before setting his goggles back on.

“Go on.”

“I went to get the firefighters to help him but when I got back Junya said a lady or a tenant was driving him to the hospital. I was so mad at him!” Angry tears spilled over. “Uryū told us all the time that you don’t move a patient unnecessarily. Not unless there’s immediate danger. I got him out of the immediate danger. He shouldn’t have been moved again unless it was onto a stretcher by paramedics.”

The boy got choked up and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“You are absolutely correct,” Ryūken told him quietly and gave him a packet of tissues from his pocket. “Can you tell me more? Every detail helps.”

“You meant everything you said, right? Every incident? Utmost seriousness? Fullest extent? You’re gonna get them? The bastards who hurt him? All of them?”

Towa wanted to believe in him so badly.

A good adult.

Another one besides Mr. Chiba.

One for Uryū.

Ryūken’s teeth clenched and he nodded fiercely. “Yes.”

“He didn’t have any glasses on. Black eye. Concussed. He was so out of it. There was lots of blood, old and new, his shirt was stiff and wet. Where it had dried and started bleeding again. His face was…was bloody.” His voice broke. “I was so scared he was dead and then he coughed. I was so relieved. Coughing meant he was still alive.”

“Can you tell me why Uryū told you both not to tell?”

“He told Junya. Junya told me to wait.”

Ryūken was immediately angry. 

“Seeing what you did and you didn’t tell the police?!” he hissed

“I DID tell the police!” he growled.

Several diners stared. 

“They thought I was a stupid kid pulling a stupid prank. They wouldn’t let me file a missing persons complaint as I’m not family. I told them about him not emailing us and they said he was just on vacation. And your hospital staff wouldn’t give me your number. And then I wondered if he’d meant to run away, like Sasaki did.” His voice got higher and trembled. “And there was this horrible moment where I wondered if he even mattered to you? What if you had been the one to hire—”

“What did you say?!” 

Isshin was there with a tight grip on his shoulder to keep him seated and help prevent him from acting on the pulsating fury that rushed through his ears.

“Yeah, it sounds stupid now but it was terrifying back then to consider it,” Towa said, blowing his nose with a tissue. “What if he was safer with you not knowing his whereabouts?”

“…” 

He’d done this. His absence had allowed this mistrust to permeate his son’s friend group.

He was the only adult who never made an appearance to them.

Only Uryū got to describe him and they took his word. Didn’t question it. Didn’t question him.

“But then you came to school last June giving us all the third degree because Obata and Sasahara talked his ears off and dared to interrupt his sleep schedule and you were completely pissy about a missing pair of shoes.” Towa laughed softly.

“…”

Another tear fell. “How could you be bad if you cared about his shoes?”

And Ryūken remembered again the awful glimpses of that desolate apartment this boy had tried to survive in.

“And then he started having lunches again cuz you made them. And then at the meeting you were being all scary with Mr. Sasahara and I was, like, damn it, you didn’t know anything about anything. Or you’d have totally freaked. You’d have completely freaked. Uryū cut you out. I know it cuz he did that to us at the end of middle school. He did that to you at the start.”

“So Uryū didn’t…forbid him from telling?” Isshin checked.

“Did Uryū ask you not to tell me about this?” he asked again.

“I don’t think Uryū even knows I was there. And…I’m pretty sure Junya hasn’t told him. I’m some kind of contingency plan for Junya. Junya gave his word not to tell. On his honor. But I didn’t make any promises. Junya warned me though, that it would be really hard to do anything without Uryū taking the lead. And then Uryū just disappeared and when he reappeared, or rather when we tracked him down, he acted like he hadn’t dropped off the face of the Earth.”

“Uryū extracted this promise from Junya before he disappeared?” Ryūken asked.

“I dunno. I mean, I wasn’t there when it happened. I think it happened that night. I had to run to get help. Though, if it did… I mean, I wouldn’t have trusted anything out of his mouth. He was so messed up. Junya said his eyes were weird, blinked at different times.”

Asymmetrical blinking? Nystagmus?

From the head injuries?

“But after we all enrolled in Karakura High, when I asked about him disappearing, he was just like, ‘Don’t worry about it. I was going through some things and had to work them out. Sorry if I scared you.’ And he’ll get weird if you don’t drop it.”

“Think it’s gang-related?” Isshin prompted.

“Professional hit? Or gang-related?” Ryūken asked.

“I don’t know. But Uryū’s tough and he has a strong sense of justice and from what Junya’s told me he just wants him to let it go.”

“…”

He used another tissue. “That can only mean one thing to me—he’s trying to guard us from something. If I hadn’t gotten him out of his apartment, he’d have burnt to a crisp.”

Isshin nodded. “This hit was meant to kill him and leave no trace.” 

“Would you be willing to repeat all of this to Officer Sahashi?” Ryūken asked him.

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Call him. I’ll tell him right now.”

“Thank you, Towa.”

Ryūken was exhausted by the time he entered Urahara’s shop with Yoruichi and Isshin in tow.

Officer Sahashi met up with them at the restaurant and then they all went to the police station. Ryuken made sure Towa got his meal to go.

Blood sugar was important.

The officers would remind him of that as they nudged a box of stale bagels and doughnuts at him.

Except it was hard to eat with his child’s case photos in front of him.

It was easy to imagine: a phone call at the conference informing him that his child had been attacked. He would’ve been on the first plane back. 

The sun had set two hours ago.

All he wanted was sleep. And to see his son. Funny, how he’d endured two years of estrangement with the barest glimpses and inconstant meetups.

Here he was, only four months or so of living together again and being away from him for six hours was—

It wasn’t even a full work day!

Urahara lifted the cat. “Who’s a pretty kitty?”

“You know I am,” Yoruichi replied.

Tessai handed Ryūken a USB drive.

“That has Uryū meeting up with Junya earlier today,” Urahara told him solemnly as he set Yoruichi back down. “They’re still attempting damage control.”

“Idiots,” Yoruichi grumbled.

“Damn it.” Ryūken pocketed it. “I take it that I need to go and immediately review this?”

“Yeah. If you can, try and grab his messenger bag as he comes through the door,” Kisuke advised.

Ryūken pinched the bridge of his nose. “Great. That’s how I like to start conversations.”

“I can do it,” Isshin volunteered. “Come on, I deserve to be let in on this.”

Ryūken was too tired to argue. “Fine. Get your gigai. I don’t want my household staff to think I’ve cracked up and started talking to myself.”

“Yes!” He shunpoed away.

He’d already read Uryū’s texts on the way over here. There’d been periodic ones every hour since he left. 

His phone rang.

He answered on the first ring. “Uryū?”

“Hey Dad, I know the sun’s down so I’m technically breaking rules but I’m at Aunt Bai’s. Can I get this for us for dinner tonight? My treat? For bailing on you earlier?”

He sounded so normal, like any teenager—wanting to pick dinner but camouflaging it as a favor.

Ryūken ached for that normalcy.

Uryū had figured that out. 

It was jarring. 

Between what Towa had told him and then Urahara’s warning… hearing how light and upbeat his son’s voice was gave him pause.

Wait. Why was it surprising?

Kanae could do that.

Could go out, hunt Hollows, lose comrades and serve him tea with a smile.

Could listen to him bemoan his fate and arrange for ways to make his betrothal more bearable while keeping her own emotions under control.

He never thought of Uryū as being able to conceal his feelings.

He was too loud and passionate and melodramatic—The mighty last Quincy—hero of a dying race!

Dreamed up by a middle schooler who had used anger and gallantry to mask fear and grief.

And once Ryūken had learned that and didn’t rise to the bait, he’d needed to adapt.

Behold a new strategy: I’m just your ordinary teenager! You don’t have to worry anymore. Lower your guard, it’s me, Dad.

This one. This one was very effective. 

This one…worked on him. Had been working on him for months now.

But he couldn’t even bring himself to feel upset.

Not when he’d seen him shatter at the police station.

These personas? Shields? They were constructions meant to protect that Uryū—the one underneath who was badly damaged from grievous losses and in shock from repeated exposure to blatant cruelty. That Uryū was traumatized and still recovering. 

And it wasn’t like these fronts were fake—they were genuine facets of his son that had been polished up and pushed forward.

“Order enough for your uncle, the glutton. I’ll contact Hikari to pick you up.”

“Yes, Dad.” 

What seemed to work against these constructions was—

“You’re wearing a warm coat, right?”

“Daaad.”

“…”

“Yes, I am.”

Persistent kindness. 

Yhwach had deduced that immediately.

His eyes stung. “Good boy.”

Chapter Text

Ryūken set the USB into his personal laptop and opened his video player.

He dialed up the volume as Isshin pulled up a chair.

Ryūken felt his right eye start to twitch—the teens had met up at that park he hated. The one he’d asked his son not to go to anymore.

Junya looked exhausted and stressed. He immediately loosened his tie. “My parents are so pissed at me, Uryū.”

“I’m sorry,” Uryū offered blandly.

Ryūken frowned. His son must have doubled back home and changed clothes. He was dressed in his school uniform to avoid standing out. 

Junya sat down on a park bench with his face in his hands. “It’s hard. Chiyo is furious. She’s so… All our friends are furious with me. Chiba’s gonna kick my ass. I’ve been disinvited to Taro’s recital. My personal life is falling apart.”

“…” Uryū fidgeted. “Um, your text said you collected my homework assignments for me?” 

Ryūken’s eyebrows twitched. There was something very unhealthy in his son’s obsession with school. That even in the midst of all of this…he remained fixated on homework.

“Right!” Junya pulled out a folder and handed it over.

“Thanks.” Uryū wavered awkwardly. “You know…when they start in, you can just blame me. I mean, I’m the one who asked you not to come forward. It’s my fault.”

Junya gave him an irritated look. “Yeah, that’s not helpful. My parents get even more pissed if I try to loop it back to you. I’m too scared to even try it with Chiyo.”

Dark blue eyes went wide. “Really? Why? You were showing loyalty and respecting my privacy. And I do appreciate that. Truly.”

Junya looked at him warily. “Do not tell them that. Apparently, I was supposed to be encouraging you to tell a trustworthy adult.”

Uryū frowned. “There weren’t any.”

Ryūken and Isshin grimaced.

Junya winced. “Um, yeah, that’s… don’t say that either. We were supposed to tell your dad and my parents. And Chiyo’s. And Mr. Chiba.”

Uryū gave a flat, blank, “Oh.”

Ryūken felt a deep unease. He was still up against something sinister and pervasive and dangerous—the same thing that led Uryū to leave for the Wandenreich without telling anyone.

“Uryū? How were you able to meet up today anyway? I half-expected your dad to have you on a backpack leash.”

Uryū blushed and bit out a sour, “Gee, thanks.”

“Seriously, how did you ditch him or could he come out of the woodwork at any time?” He looked half-terrified at the thought.

“Why are you so scared of him?!” Uryū demanded.

Light blue eyes narrowed; it was because the boy wasn’t a complete idiot. He’d wronged them. Their family. And he continued to do so.

“Reassure me.”

“Dad is meeting up with Towa. Though…I kinda…well I didn’t exactly promise him, but I’m trying to be sensitive to—he doesn’t like me coming to this park, so if we could head back to the other side of town?”

Ryūken felt an unexpected sense of pleasure at this show of uncoerced filial obedience.

Their bond was mending. 

Junya gave him a look.

Uryū got defensive. “I’m not scared of this side of town or him being disappointed in me but he’s snobby and he might have a point. A few blocks from here is where I got jumped last June and I don’t feel like inviting an encore right now.”

Ryūken nodded approvingly. It was a work in progress. A few years ago his child would have stayed for pure spite and the thrill of disobeying him.

Junya grimaced. “Really? Damn it, I’m sorry. We could’ve met somewhere else.”

They crossed the street and started heading back in the direction of what would ultimately lead to Ishida Estate.

Ryūken wondered if that was deliberate or subconscious. Still, that his son was heading back home, where it was safe, was a good instinct to rely on.

Uryū said, “I got your text and…”

“Bailed?”

He pushed up his glasses in embarrassment. “Yeah.”

“Was he mad at you?”

“Dad? No. He…he wasn’t mad. I could tell he was a little disappointed but…”

“Um.” Junya squirmed. “So Dr. Ishida is with Towa?”

“Yep.”

“Crap. Um…He…he was there. That night.”

“What?”

“Towa got you out of your apartment that night.”

Uryū blinked several times in shock.

“You didn’t think I did it?” Junya muttered in disbelief.

“Ha! No. I…just assumed I…got myself out.” He looked frustrated.

Junya gave him a very flat look. “Yeah, you need to stop thinking that you’re superhuman.”

“Shut up, Junya” was the knee-jerk response.

“Why do you always have to do things over the top anyway? Why can’t you just be satisfied that you survived? It’s enough!”

“What the hell?! Why are you angry when I’m the one—Why are you only telling me this now?! Oh shit! Damn it. Well, this means Ryūken knows.” He pulled out his cell. “And he hasn’t blown up my phone. So he’s laying in wait. I get to go home to that trap. Thanks a lot, Jun.”

And he was back to being Ryūken. It hurt more than it should.

Uryū began to walk faster. “Like things weren’t awkward enough between us before! Now Dad’s gonna freak out even more! Couldn’t even…walk down a flight of stairs…”

Breathing at that point, with that kind of blood loss, was impressive enough. His son had ridiculously high expectations for himself.

At least he called him ‘Dad.’ The back and forth was telling. His son was thinking out loud. It revealed a lot.

“He always thinks I’m weak and I can’t do anything right. This’ll just…How could you not tell me Towa was there?! How could he have never mentioned—”

Abruptly, Junya shoved a gift bag in Uryū’s face.

“What the hell, Jun?”

“Just accept.”

“Why?”

“…”

Uryū sighed and took the bag. He pulled out a VHS cartoon case aimed at very young children. 

“However did you know?” he deadpanned.

“They…they took everything else,” Junya said softly.

“The police,” Isshin breathed. “That means…that video…”

Uryū went very still, immediately understanding.

Junya nodded. “Just in case they had some way of—”

“Thank you, Junya.” He swiftly put the gift and the homework packet into his messenger bag.

“Okay, that’s the contraband. I’m on it,” Isshin assured, clapping Ryūken on the shoulder.

“How was your day, young master?” Hikari asked from the driver’s seat.

“Weird,” Uryū answered before he thought better of it.

“Oh?” the man replied.

“Yeah, I…” He needed to use the truth as an alibi. “I met up with my classmate to pick up homework.”

“Did he do something that upset you, sir?” He looked at him carefully through the mirror.

Geez, Ryūken had gotten them all on edge, hadn’t he? It was embarrassing and unnecessary. He didn’t need everyone coming to his rescue now. 

“No, I just…his parents are giving him a hard time. And it’s kind of my fault.”

“Is this…someone from middle school?”

So the household staff was talking about him. Great.

“Yeah.”

“Are they your friend, young master?”

“Yeah, kinda. I think so. Or at least they were and want to be…still. Things are just…”

He didn’t know what he wanted. And because he didn’t know, there was no direction. There was no traction. Everything was confusing. Facets of his life that had been separated were now coming back together…but on a collision course.

He’d survived longer than he expected. He was living to see all the scaffolding he’d erected come crashing down.

“Weird right now?” the chauffeur remarked softly.

“Yeah.”

“Well, if you’re ever uncomfortable meeting with this person or someone else, you should call. Aota and I have training as security and we can get there.”

He felt his face heat up. “I’m not weak and I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Sir? I am not a babysitter,” the man corrected.

“Sorry.”

“But I can be back up. Please call should you require it.”

“Thank you, Hikari.”

“Of course, sir.”

Maybe…an outsider’s opinion could help?

“Um, Hikari?”

“Yes?”

“His parents are mad because they feel he concealed information, but he only concealed that information because I asked him to. But they’re only angry at him and not me,” he blurted out in a rush.

“Is this regarding the middle school incidents?”

The staff had talked a lot.

“…Yeah, it is.”

“Why would they be angry at you?”

“Because…because…”

“With all due respect, they didn’t raise you, sir. They raised your peer and they have certain expectations of what he should and shouldn’t do. He did not conduct himself in a way they could be proud of.”

“I wouldn’t have appreciated it if he’d…told them back then.”

Hikari nodded as the vehicle stopped for an intersection. “Sir? Do you want me to answer simply or as a father?”

“I guess whatever you feel is more truthful and could help me understand.”

“I can see myself as a parent on either side of this and it upsets me. If one of my children kept secrets that resulted in their friend nearly being killed, I’d be appalled. I’d feel I had failed as a parent.”

Uryu was startled. “But-but if it was outside of their control and a matter of honor?”

“No. Too young.”

“Too young?” Uryu replied incredulously.

“Honor is a nice consideration but the concealment is a dishonor to both houses in that instance.”

“I would never have trusted him again.”

“Yes. He should have been willing to sacrifice your friendship to protect your life.”

“…Oh…” He shifted uncomfortably. Okay that made more sense.

So, that was why…

“…He’s scared of my dad,” he murmured.

“He should be.”

How was he supposed to fix that? 

He pondered that for the rest of the drive home.

He kept picturing Dad’s doodle of Sky Dragon about to bite down on a man’s head.

Ryūken versus Junya…that just wasn’t a fair matchup.

When Uryū crossed the threshold with the bags of hot take out, he did not expect to be pounced on by his uncle.

“Nephhhhhhhewwwww!” Isshin greeted him with an overenthusiastic embrace that involved lifting and spinning him. “Hey, did you get snacks while you were out?!”

“Uncle Isshin, what the hell? Dinner’s right here.” 

“But you went off alone earlier. Surely, someone was confessing to you?!” He winked.

“What?! NO! I was getting homework!”

Uncle Isshin was aghast as he pawed at and then through his satchel. “No? Wait? What’s this?! Presents?!”

“Hey, that’s private!”

“We have no secrets in this family!” Isshin announced.

“Like hell we don’t! You and my dad have tons of secrets! You live in cardcastles made of secrets!”

“Awwww, Jewel Dragons’ Rescue?!” Isshin held it up triumphantly.

Uryū felt his whole face burn.

“Yuzu loved this one!”

He floundered. What was a good excuse.

“We’ll watch it with dinner in the parlor,” Ryūken said. “I’m feeling nostalgic.”

“Ehhh?! That’s-that’s—”

His father looked at him expectantly.

“Fine, I guess…”

Uryū was sweating hard as he sat down between the two men and food was divvied up on the coffee table.

The fact that the VHS wasn’t labeled didn’t faze the adults. 

Then there was the fact that Dad wasn’t mentioning his meeting with Towa or scolding him for backing out.

Junya had said before that the video was demagnetized.

It was going to be okay.

He swallowed a bite of his egg roll.

It was going to be—

Uryū exhaled in relief when the VCR said “Unreadable.” 

Thank goodness.

“Don’t worry Baby Quincy, I bet Orihime can fix this!” Isshin assured.

“What?! Nonono, it’s fine. Let’s not bother her! We can just watch regular T.V.” Uryū suggested desperately.

“She’s welcome to join us.” Ryūken pulled out his phone and dialed.

Uryū watched in a sort of detached horror as Orihime’s bubbly voice answered his father’s call and replied to the request with, “Oh, I’d be happy to help! I’ll be right over. I LOVED ‘Jewel Dragons’ as a little kid.”

“Invite Ichigo and Yasutora, too. I’m sure they’d appreciate seeing a movie here.” It was the way his dad maintained eye contact with him throughout this exchange that sent shivers down his back.

Somehow, they knew about the cassette tape. That he had it. That it was important. But how?

Damn it.

He was screwed.

Ryūken requested Juri to make more food to supplement the takeout since they had more guests arriving.

His son was visibly nervous.

What was on the tape that he didn’t want discovered?

It definitely wasn’t Jewel Dragons’ Rescue.

He tried to tell himself he wasn’t disappointed. It was a silly, pointless cartoon…that his four-year-old had adored to the point of wearing their cassette out.

His child had sensed him immediately as he came home from preschool and immediately cut his father’s rest short—racing up the stairs with a happy cry.

Ryūken’s shift had only ended an hour ago. He needed sleep.

Still, it was hard to be annoyed when his child showered him with adoration.

He burst through the double doors. “Daddy, you’re home!” 

Like Ryūken was a hero from an epic returned after a fierce and lengthy struggle. 

“Mommy and I bought a movie because I was so good today.”

“You were so good?” Ryūken asked indulgently as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Uryū brought him his slippers as he explained, “Yes. Kimi ran into the doorframe and her tooth came out and I held her hand and I helped her calm down. And-and then we got the grownups. And they helped her, too.”

Ryūken slipped his house shoes on. He could spare an hour or two with his child before returning to bed.

His son was not only articulate, he could chronologically sequence events in his stories. He was a genius. 

And he was compassionate.

“That is excellent, Uryū. You were very good. I’m proud of you.”

His son asked hopefully, “Do you think this makes me like a doctor, too?”

Ah, the hero-worship that came instinctively with this age was addictive.

He needed to savor it.

His lips curved. “Very much like one. You took good care of your patient. That’s not easy, especially when they’re upset.”

The child nodded and beamed and held up his reward. “Movie?”

Kanae was flustered as she entered the bedroom. “Uryū, Daddy is resting. I told you, Mommy will watch the movie with you. We need to let Daddy—” 

“But you’re not a dragon,” their child explained solemnly.

Ryūken smirked. “Oh?” He peered at the cover with more interest.

“Dragons like us, Daddy. They live like us.” His young son pointed to the castle on the cover. “In a big house cuz dragons need space.”

Kanae gave an exasperated look that said, ‘You did this. By naming him as you did.’

Ryūken’s lips twitched and he nodded. The child’s logic checked out—dragons did need space. “Smart boy.”

“Yes,” the child agreed with a grin and brought his backpack over his arm. “See, Daddy?” He unzipped the backpack to pull out an assignment with gold star stickers plastered across it. 

“Ah. Well done.”

“Yeah.” Uryū immediately dropped it in favor of giving him an impromptu hug.

“My, my, we must be more careful.” He awkwardly leaned down, holding his son as he rescued the assignment from the floor. “Uryū, you need to—”

“I just miss you.” He buried his face into Ryūken’s collarbone. “You weren’t here when I fell asleep or when I woke up.”

That sent a pang through him and he held his child tightly. 

“Uryū,” Kanae scolded softly. “We talked about this. Daddy has an important job. When he is not here with us, it is because he’s helping people who really need him.”

“I missed you, too,” Ryūken assured.

“I knew it! See, Mommy? You act like I don’t know things.”

“Don’t be sassy to Mommy,” he warned.

“Sorry, Daddy. Sorry, Mommy.”

Kanae smiled. “Apology accepted. We’re watching a dragon movie, dear Husband. You are welcome to join. Or rest.” 

Which let him know what she would prefer he do.

“I greatly appreciate this invitation.”

“Yes, it will be… a…a momentous occasion,” Uryū sounded out carefully while offering him a hand to presumably guide him to the parlor.

He and Kanae had to stifle laughter. Their son’s vocabulary and sense of syntax was expanding so swiftly and with a flare for the dramatic.

Ryūken took the small hand in his own. “Well then, we are very fortunate.”

“Very fortunate,” Uryū echoed back softly, proving once more how closely he watched and learned from them.

Ryūken used his free hand to take his wife’s and interlaced their fingers. 

They were very fortunate.

He wanted those simple days back. 

He noticed that his son wasn’t in his school uniform; he’d changed back into what Ryūken had seen him in earlier. He was good at remembering small details.

Before he could ask more about his son’s day, their guests arrived.

Ichigo and Yasutora flanked Orihime as they were led into the room by Yuna.

He thanked the maid, who then bowed and left.

Orihime began by rejecting the demagnetization of the tape. Then she fought off distortions as the VCR began tracking the video and playing. 

“Oh my goodness,” Orihime murmured as the picture focused, “This is ‘Sensei Ishida!’ It must’ve gotten mixed up. Or Junya forgot because it was broken and put it in this case by mistake!”

Uryū sunk into the cushions of the sofa.

Served him right for being secretive. If he’d come forward, this spectacle could have been avoided.

“Don’t worry, everyone! I’ll fix it!” Orihime said. “Then we can turn it over to the authorities!”

Only, it soon became clear that this wasn’t quite Sensei Ishida.

It was raw footage that hadn’t been edited or curated.

Apparently, Taro’s backstory was that he had humiliated himself at a concert—completely freezing up midway through his debut.

Embarrassed, his mother had stopped his lessons.

Taro was bitter. His older brothers were talented musicians. Prodigies. Flutists.

Were. Because the two had died in an awful boating accident before Taro was born.

And his name “Taro” no “Shintaro” as it came out, meant “new son” or “new eldest” which made more sense.

This was why his mother was so controlling. Why his brothers hadn’t attended the meeting during summer. Probably why his father was often away.

Ryūken shook his head. Awful.

And his name didn’t let him forget it—that he was possibly born because his brothers were dead.

He ran a hand through his hair. All of these children had been struggling.

Taro shrugged bitterly that it was a waste of time. That future was “taken” anyway.

He was being overshadowed by his brothers.

Ryūken understood that in the reverse. After his mother had been tainted by Hollow reiatsu, there would be no younger siblings for him. She had agonized over that—having grown up believing her most important life goals were marriage and succession.

It became his duty to be the best child he could be for her, since there would be no others. 

“You’re a dumbass,” Uryū told him flatly. “Orchestras have multiple flutists who are all great.”

Taro stared. “…”

“If it matters to you, tell your mom to restart your lessons. Or practice on your own.”

“She decides this stuff.”

“Screw that. This is your life. If you’re a musician then you’re a musician.”

“My mom—”

“Parents are wrong ALL the time.”

Taro’s brown eyes widened at this heresy. 

“How are you surprised at this? People don't magically become right because they hit a certain age. They just get bigger, louder, and more arrogant.”

“How can you say that?”

Uryū raised an eyebrow. “What? You think failure stops once you’ve grown up?”

“Well, no.”

“Good.” 

“It’s just—”

“My dad and his staff get all kinds of awards. He gets more every year. The newspaper writes about him and everything.”

Ryūken remembered the letter in the album listing out their achievements.

“Why are you telling me this?” Taro grumbled, now annoyed—clearly not being someone who often got awards.

“People die on his operating table all the time,” Uryū told him pointblank.

Taro’s eyes went wide.

Ryūken turned to look at his son, who cringed and didn’t meet his gaze.

“He fails and he still gets awards.”

“He-he’s a surgeon, right?”

“Yeah,” he answered flippantly.

“Then he and his fellow…they’re all…all trying their best.”

“Yeah and patients still die,” he replied coldly.

“…” Taro was quiet .

Ryūken was left reeling from that cruel assessment.

“Geez, Ishida, what the hell?” Ichigo demanded.

His teenager slowly looked over at him. “Sorry, Dad. That was really insensitive.”

He nodded. Yes, it was.

Middle school Uryū shrugged and then explained, “I’m taking the edge off. You missing a musical note or a measure or five isn’t going to kill anyone. So, get over it. Quit if you want to quit. But don’t act like one failure is the end of the world.”

“You’re really weird, Ishida.”

“Yeah, anyways, you should sign up for the play, too. The rest of us have.”

Taro glowered at him. “I’m not playing my flute.”

“Then don’t, but don’t whine when the people who do play miss a note.”

“…”

“I’m helping with the costuming. It’s good practice.” His lips twitched and he declared dramatically, “One day when I’m a name in the High Fashion world, I’ll be able to look back and credit this play as a gateway to-”

“What do you…? What would I even do?”

Uryū smirked. “I dunno. Whatever you want, I guess?”

“…”

“Or does your mom decide what’s fun for you, too?” he sneered.

Ryūken flinched a little as his own childhood reared up and flashed in front of his eyes.

“You really don't care what your dad thinks?” Taro murmured. “How?”

Uryū sighed. “I…had to decide how much power I was going to allow someone else to have over me.”

Taro stared. “…”

Uryū looked off into the distance. “I don’t regret my choice, but it has come with consequences.”

“Like?”

“If you do what your parent wants, they’re more likely to show up.”

“Which means?”

“If you go solo? Well…get yourself into trouble? Get yourself out.”

“So your big advice is…?”

“Pick your battles. If you’re already doing a lot of stuff she wants you to, you probably have more leverage than you think. She’ll let you choose one thing.”

“And I should choose the play because?”

“Are you having fun now?”

“No.”

“Then, you already know what not being in the play is like. Maybe the play will be fun?”

“Maybe it won’t?” he countered.

“Maybe it won’t,” Uryū agreed. “But…you’ll have the privilege of telling me ‘I told you so.’ I hear that’s golden because I’m a ‘chatty, obnoxious know-it-all.’”

Taro bit down on his growing smile and then gave up and chuckled. “How do you sign up?”

The film abruptly cut to almost a year later, suggesting that Junya filmed using multiple cassettes at a time. That meant the police would have their hands full going through the tapes.

Maybe Urahara could organize them after making doubles?

Ryūken barely withheld a flinch at the sight of his small, underweight thirteen-year-old hobbling around on a pair of crutches. 

What was he thinking back then? He should’ve kept his son home until he was fully recovered.

His teeth clenched; the other children were not accommodating his injuries.

They walked too quickly. They didn’t carry his things for him. They didn’t keep the atmosphere calm and conducive for healing.

They were exhausting him physically and emotionally with their fast pace and their drama.

Taro bemoaned his mother’s domineering behavior.

Towa complained about his aunt and living situation.

Karumi was struggling with her grandfather’s expectations.

Chiyo needed help to organize her study schedule and balance it with her ice skating lessons.

Chiba was upset about her grandmother’s health failing as her dementia worsened.

They all leaned on Uryū for his strength and guidance.

Ryūken’s nostrils flared. Where was Uryū’s support? He was injured!

Couldn’t they see how delicate his health was?! The casts and crutches were right in front of them!

Uryū was sassy and matter of fact as he doled out advice. He held himself straight and didn’t complain or ask for help.

Junya still caught him in vulnerable moments where his face was sweating and his hands shook as he counted out painkillers and took them with a thermos of juice.

Moments where he closed his eyes and was clearly fighting a lot of pain and discomfort but he kept pushing himself onward for their sakes.

He should’ve been home.

Ryūken frowned and turned to his seventeen-year-old, “Uryū, why didn’t you call me to come get you? If you were hurting so badly?” 

The others waited for his answer as well.

“I need to go to the restroom!” His son announced and bolted from the room.

Yasutora and Orihime watched him go. 

The girl blinked. “I feel like that’s our cue to follow.”

Yasutora nodded. “Yeah. But he’s not hunting a Hollow. That’s just the excuse he gives.”

Ichigo fidgeted. “I know, right? That’s the sprint he uses.” He noticed his own dad’s stare and offered, “When Ishida goes Hollow-hunting he tells the teachers an excuse as he’s running out of the room and it’s usually the toilet or the nurse’s office.” 

“We see him running like that and we just join in—his spirit detection is the sharpest,” Orihime said. “I’m fighting it. It’s hard but I don’t want us to bother him if he really is in the bathroom.”

Ryūken blinked. “How considerate.”

Ichigo snorted and pantomimed. “Bam bam bam. Oi Ishida, is there a Hollow in there?”

The other kids chuckled. But all of their eyes said they were worried about their friend.

Ryūken sighed and stared at the screen.

At this point, he was somewhat resigned to his child running away from him at full speed.

He watched the Uryū on the screen.

His tween had felt responsible for that ragtag group. Had probably tormented himself by wondering how they would survive without him playing protector? So he ignored his limits to continue supporting them.

Juri arrived with a cart of food just as tween Uryū was explaining how the principal had made an exception for him and he’d been issued a ring of keys to use the faculty and service elevators.

The faculty were loath to share the space with him so Uryū often took the service elevator instead, even if it was a particularly foreboding lift with a flickering light and loud, sluggish mechanics.

“This thing’s definitely haunted,” Chiba stated after scoping it out. “Sure you don’t want another witness for when the paranormal shit happens?”

Juri distributed the silverware and took surreptitious glances at the screen.

This was 1999?

He’d been gone most of that time, sometimes just dropping food off at the estate for others to heat up, because his older daughter’s pregnancy had been very difficult and the baby stayed in the NICU a concerning amount of time. His family had needed him.

But seeing Uryū in an obvious state of injury clearly distressed him.

He took a long time pouring and serving drinks.

Uryū shook his head. “I need to double check with Principal Satō that other people can ride with me, too. I don’t want you all getting detention because I failed to ask an important follow-up question.”

“Look, I can take the detention,” Chiba offered. 

After assuring his friends once more that he could ride the “admittedly creepy” service elevator alone, Junya and the other children made their way up several flights of stairs to their class. 

When Uryū didn’t appear and Chiba announced that he’d been eaten by the elevator ghost, Junya told the others he was going to check up on him.

Juri lingered—no doubt wanting to see for himself that this young Uryū had been alright.

That this was just parental paranoia striking.

Ryūken was similarly anxious—half-expecting to see his son had fallen over due to his overly independent and arrogant nature. And that he was too stubborn to call out for assistance.

Uryū was outside of the elevator but he wasn’t alone.

“Poor, poor Ishida.” Aso released a long drag of his cigarette. “Back to school so soon?” he tutted. “I guess Daddy doesn’t like playing doctor at all hours, huh? Not at home. If he’s even there. I suppose I can’t blame him. I bet you’re a lousy patient.”

The hatred kept building. How was he supposed to vent this against a dead man? Maybe Urahara could track Aso down in the Seireitei and give Ryūken a pass to travel through?

“I can’t be worse as a patient as you are as a teacher,” Uryū snapped.

“You know? A real man takes care of his problems. He doesn’t just drop them off and leave them lying around for the rest of us to deal with.”

Ryūken’s back went ramrod straight.

The insult flew over Uryū’s head. 

“Ha! Well, when I encounter one, I’ll let you know because I’m pretty sure real men don’t obsess over middle schoolers.”

The layered meaning in that.

Fuji…and himself…

That was a commendable retort.

Aso took another long drag as he came close. Too close. Intent on intimidating a child…an injured child.

Aso blew smoke directly in his son’s face.

Ryūken’s teeth gnashed. 

Isshin swore.

Uryū’s nose wrinkled as he glared at the man, teeth bared. “You’re a loser. Everyone knows it. You hate this place and everyone in it. And we hate you. Why do you even work here?”

He read his spirit ribbon…

“…Such insolent eyes. You know, Ishida? One day, someone’s going to have enough and—Put. One. Out.” Aso ground a cigarette into the left lens of Uryū’s glasses.

Orihime gasped.

Ichigo loudly swore. 

Ryūken glared. If he’d witnessed that back then, Aso might have still found himself ripped apart…by Sprenger.

Junya trembled and hid behind a trash can.

Uryū didn’t flinch and continued glaring. “Are you done? I’m late for class.”

“Thought you had a note, tough guy.”

“I do. But it’s a matter of options. Waste time there or here with you,” he sneered.

Aso laughed and flicked his cigarette; it bounced off Uryū’s uniform jacket and fell to the floor.

“Bravo, Gyōu . Round of applause. Nerves of steel.” He clapped softly and then walked away.

Chapter Text

“That asshole,” Ichigo kept repeating. “That asshole. Uryū, how could you not report that asshole?”

“He was probably scared it would get worse. He’d focus his hate on the others. I used to worry about Tatsuki,” Orihime said quietly.

Yasutora frowned at the screen.

“That bastard.” Juri clapped to his mouth. “I apologize-”

“Nah, Juri. You summed it up,” Isshin replied. “That man’s—nah, not even a man. Just a creep.”

Ryūken frowned hard at the screen.

How? 

How had Uryū not told him about that-that. It was assault and then battery?!

They could have gotten a restraining order! He’d have pulled him from the school! The lawsuits he would have launched that day if he’d been made aware!

Junya crept back around.

Uryū remained standing there, head bowed.

“Smokers.” He used a crutch to fully put out the cigarette in front of him but then was stuck in the conundrum of what to do with it.

He couldn’t bend down to pick it up.

“H-hey, Uryū! I-I got it.” Junya hurried forward to pick up the cigarette and set it on the water fountain. He doused it as an extra precaution.

“We should hurry to class,” Uryū said tonelessly.

Junya hesitated. “…I-I got it. Him. Just now.”

Uryū’s hair shadowed his eyes. “So?”

“S-so…so it’s on film, Uryū. So, we can—”

“So we can what? What makes today so special? What makes you think today’s the day?” Uryū spat. “The day where all the adults finally give a damn?”

“We…we’ll…we’ll bypass the school. We’ll go to the police station and I’ll show them the video and-and-he’ll go to jail because-because he’s…bad. He’s a bad guy—”

“Because the cops cared so much about other students who were being bullied to the breaking point of suicide or about Sasaki who went missing. This? Oh yeah, I’m sure they’ll care about this. I’m not even hurt, Junya. There’s nothing to show them that they’ll care about.”

Like he needed his eye gouged out to merit attention.

“My parents will care-”

“Because your parents can handle this? The way they handled the issues at your last school? By running away? Hmm. Let’s see how they’ve handled it here? Oh wait, I remember. By making you apologize to the bullies who’ve been harassing you because their families are rich and your family isn’t.”

Ryūken frowned at the low blow. His son knew better than that. Kanae would be aghast.

Junya’s hold on the camera shook but he stood his ground to make a point. “…Y-your dad’s not poor. The Ishida family is well known and respected in the community. Your dad is-”

“A useless asshole who hides in his office and behind his title.”

Isshin winced. “Geez, kiddo. Pull your punches.”

Juri’s eyes bulged.

Junya gasped. “Uryū?!”

“Look around, Junya. Adults don’t care about what’s right. Let alone about us. You think the world got this screwed up overnight? It is how it is because they’ve made it this way. They keep it this way. Adults care about ease. They walk in circles worrying about bills and promotions and they keep their heads down. They don’t like trouble.” 

“You’re wrong. My parents…they care. They’ve always cared. They’ve always taken good care of me.”

“No. That’s part of the delusion they sell you. When you’re small, your problems are small. And that’s when they can deal with them and you get sold the lie that they can handle anything you come to them with. But they can’t.

You get bigger and your problems get bigger and then it’s suddenly outside of their scope and they get overwhelmed. And why are you causing such trouble for them? Why do you go and get yourself tangled up in these things? It's embarrassing. You’re embarrassing. And it’s your own fault you’re in this situation. So, it’s your problem to deal with because they can’t be bothered. Because they’re lazy and they do the bare freaking minimum. You’re just not supposed to discover all of that this early. You’re supposed to be a grown up when you realize this. When it’s too late and you’re already a walking disaster like the rest of them.”

Juri made a wounded sound at hearing this.

Junya was on the brink of tears. “Don’t say that. Someone will help us. Someone will care.”

“Nobody’s coming to save us, Jun.”

“Don’t say that!”

“It’s fine. Look at me. Do you see me crying about it?” he snarled.

“…”

“Look at me.” The camera shakily panned up to his tear-free, angry face. “Do you?”

“N-no.”

“They don’t care, Jun. They don’t care and I don’t care. Nobody cares. Now, let’s get to class. If our attendance gets too bad, we won’t graduate. There’s no way I’m repeating a year in this hellhole. And you won’t last a semester without me. Come on.”

“R-Right.”

The screen went dark with another distortion.

Orihime paused the video with the remote, “Maybe I…should take this home to… repair and then return it to you and you can…can choose who you want to view it with before turning it over to Officer—?”

“What? You think I haven’t called myself worse than this?” Ryūken scoffed as he pulled out some nicotine gum. 

He longed for a cigarette and tried to ignore the sad look Juri sent him.

“I have. Much worse. He’s just more observant than I gave him credit for.” 

Damn it. Uryū stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He kept sweating. He washed his face. He probably needed to change his clothes. 

It was such a weird day.

Uryū had started it with a terrifying nightmarish flashback to Aso. Midway through he deluded himself into a wishful fantasy where his father rescued him from an altercation.

Then, he woke up later that morning on the couch with his dad as the weatherman droned on about dropping temperatures and windy conditions on the television . 

To make matters worse, the way his dad asked him gently if he still liked flying kites meant he’d probably been sleep-talking on and off and his dad had just indulged it for hours.

And that meant his dad had witnessed and intervened in his nightmare to the detriment of his own sleep schedule.

When he alerted him that he was actually awake, he’d braced himself for mockery only to be asked if his latest dream was better.

“…Yeah.”

“Oh? What was it about?” 

“There was a huge garden. Someone was calling me home.”

Except it wasn’t home.

“Oh? Who?”

He almost answered that it was his parent, except it hadn’t been his mom or his dad. It had been someone else.

And he himself had been strangely weightless as he went along—simultaneously younger and older than he was now—wiser and more naïve. 

It was hard to describe so he didn’t try.

And there’d been lots of pools and floating… flora? He shared that part.

“That’s nice, Uryū.”

“Yeah, it was.” And it was sad. Or maybe it was bittersweet. Because it made no sense to feel homesick for a place that didn’t exist.

Between the hand petting his hair and a monotone explanation about cold fronts in the background, he drifted off again.

When he woke up for the second time, the opera channel was on and Ryūken was dozing.

He tried to gently disengage so his dad could rest longer. He dressed and went down to the dining room for breakfast and found his father already in a three-piece suit and waiting for him.

He’d honestly intended to go with his father to meet with Towa but then the text from Junya came in.

Dad would be busy. 

He had to use the opportunity.

His father was immediately disappointed to see him go but he was also strangely understanding.

He’d even indulged Uryū breaking the rules by staying out after dark.

But then…this.

Ryūken had chosen to flex right here—showing off that he could outmaneuver Uryū.

Easily.

Uryū went to his bedroom and changed into a fresh set of lounge clothes and reapplied deodorant. He chose darker colors that would hide sweat.

He half considered hiding here and feigning illness. There was no way that they’d marathon the whole tape. And when they broke for the night, he could creep back down and do something then.

Though, what he could do seemed pretty limited. 

If he broke the tape, Orihime could repair it. If he hid it, Ryūken would be able to find it by tracking his energy down.

He could ask Urahara for help, but the fact that Uncle Isshin knew to frisk him for the tape bespoke an alliance with the ex-Shinigami.

They had to have been spying on him earlier.

And his friends had been brought in.

He was being ambushed from every angle.

But what could he do?

Was there no way around it?

For a moment, he wallowed. 

He buried his face in his hands. “Somebody help me.”

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

A blue marble rolled out from under his bed and bumped against his foot.

The glass was bright against the wood floor and seemingly innocuous…

Damn it.

Was this really his only option?

A deeply shaken Juri took the serving cart down.

No one was very hungry after witnessing that incident but his guests attempted to eat.

Ryūken nodded to Orihime and she corrected a small distortion before pushing ‘play.’

He forced down a bite of some kind of noodle dish that was going cold. He took a deep breath. He checked his watch. 

Uryū still hadn’t returned.

What was keeping him away? Was it because they saw him throw a tantrum? Saw him being abused by a monstrous authority figure?

Damn it. There was nothing for him to be ashamed about.

Or was it something else?

Was he waiting or hiding from something in particular? Something that hadn’t played out yet?

He asked for the remote. Orihime’s hands shook as she handed it over.

He realized belatedly that he’d been harsh.

He apologized for his tone and the glares from the room’s occupants lessened somewhat.

He began to fast-forward. 

“Ryuu?” Isshin asked in curiosity.

Gradually, Uryū had fewer casts. 

He hit “play.”

His son’s mood improved a little as his freedom of movement was restored. 

He did not smile as much as he had before the accident and was getting steadily ruder in his mannerisms to all of the teachers.

This whole section had been completely cut out of Sensei Ishida. He barely recalled scenes where his child had even worn a wrist guard.

He hit fast-forward again and didn’t hit play until his son was completely unencumbered by casts and crutches.

“Ryuu? Is it… hard to see him hurt?” Isshin asked softly.

Idiot.

Of course, it was.

He fast-forwarded through a study session and then hit “play.” 

Uryū and Junya were climbing the stairs to a higher floor.

“Can’t we use the elevator? You still have the key, don’t you?” Junya whined.

Uryū rolled his eyes. “ Satō hasn’t asked for it back yet. Besides, if we are going to use it, I’m not gonna waste it on something trivial like this.”

“You’re not lugging this thing,” Junya shook the camcorder.

Uryū snickered. “I don’t know why you’re recording this in the first place. The epic retrieval of a retainer!”

“Hey! My Mom will be furious if I lose another one.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Junya was relieved to find it in his desk folded in a paper towel. “Thank goodness.”

“Okay, now that that crisis is averted, we should probably hurry down the other stairwell so you’ll come out closer to the bus stop. It’ll be close, but you should make—” Uryū’s eyes widened and he spun around. “It’s after hours. Why are you here?!” 

“It’s after hours…why are you here?” Was echoed in a half-slurring sneer back.

Uryū scowled. “What’s wrong with you?”

Aso chuckled and took a swig from something in a brown paper bag and ambled forward.

“I think he’s drunk,” Junya informed him in a loud whisper.

“Are you drunk?” Uryū demanded belligerently.

Aso leaned against the wall. “You’re always here. Great big mansion and you’re always here. Why?”

“What’s it to you?” the boy spat.

“I always wondered. First semester. You’d come to school so early, so afraid…does Dr. Ishida hit you?”

Ryūken was appalled by that accusation. Was that an actual rumor at the school?! That he was abusive?!

Aso chuckled. “If he does, it’s not hard enough. Not if you’re the one that’s gonna learn.”

He took another drink.

“What are you doing?” Uryū demanded even as he waved for Junya to get back.

“I thought I was real nice to you. Real nice,” Aso muttered to himself. “Considering. Wasn’t there. Might’ve saved her. Family emergency they said. Left the hospital in a hurry. Not so professional after all. I wasn’t going to hold it against you, you know? I know kids-”

“Get back,” Uryū growled, though it was unclear if he meant that at Aso or Junya.

“-ruin everything. Everyone knows that. Everyone. You know that, too. Don’t you, Uryū? You’re smart enough to know it. You. You got sick and Dr. Daddy had to run home.”

Ryūken felt a chill run down his spine. He was intimately involved in Aso’s hatred for his child? 

And yet instead of harassing him, Aso took it out—

“Filthy coward. No, you hold it against me. Not him,” he growled.

“I know you didn’t plan it but the more I know you, the more I accept that it’s your fault. You and that gold-digging whor—”

“You’re crazy.”

“-you call a mother.”

“How dare you!”

Ryūken’s fury soared. How was he not informed of this?! 

He felt disgusted by this man. He felt betrayed by his child. How could Uryū not turn to him for help?

Uryū was so angry his mouth trembled. He looked like he was going to yell but his jaw kept clamping back shut. He was blinking hard.

There was a crazed gleam in Aso’s eyes. “A real onna-musha? She doesn’t neglect her duties the way your mother did. If the castle was falling and she was going to die, it was her responsibility to take you with her.”

A chill ran through Ryūken. What insanity was this?!

“You’re sick!” Uryū shouted.

Wait a minute. This dialogue was terribly familiar. His son had said all of this last night. He’d assumed this was right before the stabbing.

Maybe it wasn’t?

Uryū made to leave and the man snatched his arm and violently jerked him back.

Light blue eyes widened in horror. What in hell had Junya caught on tape?!

“Let go of me!” his child shrieked.

The screen turned to static.

Ryūken wordlessly turned to Orihime.

She nodded. “I reject!”

He turned back to the screen, breathing raggedly.

Nothing happened.

“I reject!”

“I reject!”

Her fairies complained that there was nothing to reject.

Ichigo went to inspect the VCR itself. “Whoa. It’s not there.”

“What do you mean it’s not there?” Isshin snapped.

“I mean, it’s empty, Goat-face! Look for yourself!” Ichigo roared. 

He did.

“Ryuu...” He kept the flap open so everyone could see.

The VHS cassette was gone.

“It…ate it?” Orihime asked in disbelief.

Ichigo shook his head. “No, it’s gone. It’s…”

“But how?” she asked.

Brown eyes narrowed. “Something happened. Uryū did something.”

“You think he used his schrift and switched it with something else?” Orihime asked.

“Hmm, but there’s nothing in there,” Chad reasoned.

“He switched it with air?!” Orihime gasped.

Chad sweatdropped. “I don’t think so.”

“Uryū was the only one not in the room,” Ichigo pointed out.

“And that makes him guilty…somehow,” Isshin agreed.

“Yeah. Exactly. I can’t explain it but…it’s what makes sense.” Ichigo folded his arms. “Want me to get an answer out of him?”

“No.” Ryūken felt dizzy as he left to get his work laptop.

“Ryuu? Ryuu? You okay?” Isshin called after him.

“No. I have to…verify…Aso’s wife.”

That was something he could do, with or without the VHS.

It took him longer than he liked to access the older patient files.

Aso’s wife. 

If Ryūken had rushed home from the hospital on behalf of his wife and his child, it could only mean—

Yumiko Aso.

Admitted on June 17th.

Victim of car crash.

Emergency surgery.

Died on the table.

Her and her unborn child.

And Sho Aso’s life was obliterated.

Ryūken went very rigid in his seat as he absorbed this information.

Isshin, who was breaching all kinds of confidentiality laws by reading this over his shoulder, grunted, “It’s tragic but he’s still an asshole.” 

Ryūken nodded numbly—he knew the lead surgeon. Good but not as good as him.

Even so.

Even if…he had been there, the woman was unlikely to have survived. Maybe he could’ve saved the child?

At 26 weeks, there was a chance…

He felt a flicker of pain for that young life lost so soon. 

According to the records…

A son.

“Mr. Ishida…”

He remembered his own newborn son being set in his arms. 

He sighed heavily.

No. He hadn’t been there. Because his own family and household had been under siege from a mad Quincy emperor. 

He could understand, possibly even empathize the viciousness of the hate.

But rather than set his hatred on the surgeon…on the man who wasn’t there…he’d gone and made a target out of a child.

“Unforgivable. Blaming Uryū for my absence. He was only eight years old!? Blaming my wife?! And having the gall to say so to a child.”

And Uryū just quietly took it. Told no one. 

The same way he’d witnessed his mother’s autopsy. The way he’d endured bullying. The way he’d likely intended to keep silent about his experiences in Silbern.

He stood up unsteadily.

“Ryuu?”

“I need…I need…”

“Yeah?”

“Uryū.” 

He went to his child’s room. He knocked on the door. “Uryū?”

There was no light on under the door. He wasn’t studying or reading. His spirit energy was there.

He knocked again. “Son?”

No music or audiobooks.

He was too quiet. Was he embarrassed? Ridiculous.

Too obsessed with honor?

Unease rose.

“Uryū?” The boy was a very light sleeper. His father’s voice or the knocking should’ve woken him if he’d been taking a nap.

Too many calls that led to ambulance rides to the ER began with wails of “It was locked and they weren’t answering.”

“Uryū?” He tried the handle.

The door was locked. Uryū never locked his bedroom door. He and Kanae had always been very strict about that. Their family wing was locked by 9pm, but their bedrooms stayed unlocked, in the case of an emergency.

He pounded a fist against the wood in a series of rapid knocks. “Uryū?” 

“Uryū?!” He was going to rip the door off its hinges. 

“URY-”

The door opened and his teenager peered at him. 

Something in the stare…made the past rise up grotesquely.

“What are you doing?

That’s mom, isn’t it?”

“Do not lock this door,” he rasped.

“…”

“…Dad…Stop…”

His son looked away. “I don’t feel well. I’m going to sleep. Please give my apologies to our guests.”

Ryūken wrenched the door fully open. 

“H-hey!” 

He felt his son’s forehead, took his pulse, and looked him in the eyes. “You’re not sick. You’re upset. You’re hiding. Don’t hide. Not from me. Don't lock your door.” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He was breathing heavily.

“How’d you make the tape disappear?” Isshin asked outright. 

“Disappear?” Uryū replied, looking genuinely surprised. “It’s…it’s gone?”

“Yeah.”

He looked so relieved.

Ryūken and Isshin shared a look.

“Was that an evil marble wish?” Isshin pressed, coming forward.

Ryūken set himself solidly between them.

Isshin took the hint and stepped back.

The boy bit his lip and wouldn’t meet their eyes.

Uryū had asked for help.

Yhwach had answered.

It made a wild, desperate helplessness claw through Ryūken’s chest. “What is it? What were you so afraid of me seeing?! That you would ask Yhwach to intervene!”

His son went deathly pale. “W-what are you…talking about? I was just tired. Sick. If I wished for anything it was just for all of this to stop. Why couldn’t we just watch T.V. Instead?!”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed or afraid. Just tell me what was on the tape. Did Aso hurt you? Scare you? I know he insulted you. He threatened you and he…he…” He reached to gently straighten his son’s glasses. “He put out a cigarette against your glasses. Unacceptable. Assault. Battery. And he did this while you were injured and unable to get away. It was monstrous. It was cowardly. Is that when Rain Dragon lost his eye? In your sketches. After that confrontation?”

Uryū looked surprised. 

Why did he look surprised?

Surprised but not horrified.

Was that not the part he was dreading?

Ryūken’s stomach flopped. 

It was the scene that had been interrupted. 

That vicious grab.

“I couldn’t defeat him but…”

Uryū’s eyebrows drew together in a calculating way. “Did…did they all see?”

“Yes.” 

“I don’t want to go in there,” the boy stated matter-of-fact.

“Uryū…I’m right here. You won’t be going alone.”

“No.” The tone was wrong; his son was trying to pull off something. “I can’t do this. Not right now. I don’t want to answer their questions about this.”

Ryūken sighed and rested his forehead against the doorframe. “Isshin? Can you ask them to leave?”

“Ryūken, he needs to face them. He can’t keep running. You can’t keep coddling him.”

“He can talk to me first. You can talk to me. Can’t you, my dragon? If I get the others to leave?”

“…” His son squirmed.

“It’s safe talking to me. To Dad. You know that. Don’t you?”

There was a miserable nod instead of an assured one.

“Yes. It is. You can tell me anything. I’m your dad. I’m your doctor. I will take care of you.”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m just… not feeling well.” This time it sounded more genuine.

His son could receive his care more easily in the dynamic of doctor and patient.

That was why they stayed locked in this loop. 

Fine. He got him settled in the family wing, with blankets and a bottle of water and soft music playing on the television. 

He calmed him down with a promise that he didn’t need to come back down that night.

Uryū trusted “Doctor Ishida.” He’d have to continue working on the “Dad” part.

Isshin was waiting for him in the hall.

He leveled a look. “I know you’re trying to make up for all the mistakes you’ve made, but you’re being too soft. He’s taking advantage of you right now.”

“He’s just stalling.”

Dark eyes narrowed. “He asked Yhwach for help.” 

“Who do I blame for that, Isshin? Who’s to blame?”

“Ryūken…no.”

“Yes! It’s me. If there’s someone to blame, it’s me. I let all of this happen. It happened on my watch. Even so. What did he ask for help with? Stopping a VHS cassette.” 

It was so silly.

“…”

“Foolish. Childish. He’s a child. All his wishes are simple and stupid. He’s not wishing for big things, yet. Yhwach is waiting. For a big wish. One that will bind Uryū to him. Uryū’s not there yet. There’s still time. I can still fix this. But I have to do things differently. I can’t afford to be harsh. I tried that. It failed. It drove him from me. To Yhwach. I can’t lose him, Isshin. I can’t.”

A bedroom frozen in time where his child was seventeen instead of eight wasn’t more comforting. 

No.

His son needed to stay. To grow up. To live. He needed to be the last thing Ryūken saw before he departed this world. So, Ryūken could assure Kanae that their son was well and that when he reunited with them, he’d bring good news of the long, fulfilling life he’d led.

“Fine. We’ll all go and give you two some space. But, if you don’t have some answers by the morning. I say we bring Urahara in.”

They returned to the second floor to find a determined Orihime in the parlor.

She glanced up at them as she arranged candles. “We have to reach out to Middle School Ishida. He’s the only way forward.”

Isshin gave him a look that said it was his call.

“…”

Isshin made a time out gesture. “…I think Ryūken was going to call it a night, kids.”

Orihime didn’t back down. “Dr. Ishida, can you gather his awards and other things Middle School Ishida was attached to?”

It was his chance to do something right the first time the opportunity arose.

He could do that.

For Uryū.

Ryūken carefully set the awards and plaques out. 

Isshin was checking in on the girls. He paced around as he chatted on his cellphone. “Yep, Daddy’s gonna be late tonight so don’t wait up. But I’m sending you lots of hugs and cuddles. Imagine I’m reading you your favorite bedtime story, Kitty Kat Ninja Princesses —damn, they hung up.” 

“What music did Uryū listen to back then?” Yasutora asked.

“Radiohead,” he replied.

“Even then, huh?” Yasutora smirked.

“Kay, what’s his favorite?” Ichigo asked as he pulled out his iPod.

Ryūken stared down at the spelling bee medal in his hand. “I don’t know.”

“Do you recognize any of these?” His nephew asked as he held up an iPod earbud. He’d seen interns at the hospital with these. He was constantly snapping at them not to get distracted while working.

Were they popular?

Should he get Uryū one?

His nephew played him a medley of different opening chords.

He ran a hand through his hair before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ichigo, I don’t-”

“What about this one?”

“I don’t know. He wore headphones a lot. I couldn’t have him blasting music after school when I needed to sleep after a night shift.”

He stared down at a newspaper clipping of his son winning a book trivia contest between schools.

How did I let you become a stranger?

“Okay. I’m making a guess. I know he likes this one now. And I’m assuming he liked it then, too.” Ichigo put it on “loop.”

He set it at a high enough volume that the music could be heard buzzing through the earbuds.

Ryūken paused to listen to the lyrics and frowned. “It’s nonsensical.”

“Yeah, it’s ‘Idioteque,’” Yasutora replied.

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it, Uncle.”

“It sounds sad,” Orihime murmured as she set up a chessboard.

Ryūken hesitated for a moment and then gently removed his tie from his neck and set it down on the table. “He-he made this for me.”

It was rather lucky and he’d needed luck today. Or maybe it was that he could still remember the small, proud smile his son wore the first time he’d caught him wearing it to work.

That he’d made something professionally enough it could be worn out in public.

And the warmth of that moment stayed even as everything steadily chilled between them.

He placed his son’s yearbooks and some comic books. He opened several sketchbooks and set them to pictures of Rain Dragon.

“Middle School Ishida,” Orihime called. “Are you there? We all want to help you.”

The box of tapes promptly tipped over.

Ryūken smirked. “Hello to you, too.”

“I’m your friend, Orihime.” She surprised Ryūken sitting down near the chessboard and choosing a black rook to represent herself, rather than a Queen.

“I know I’m not a Quincy so I’m different no matter what. But I do see you as my friend,” Orihime announced. “And I hope you can see me that way, too.”

The chess pieces scattered.

She flinched but then beamed.

The black rook and a white knight remained on the board. 

“Oi, what about us?” Ichigo asked, jamming a thumb at himself and Yasutora.

“Oh, right. Oops.” She knocked her knuckles against the side of her head. “Gosh, sorry. What do you think you are?”

“I’m a rook, too,” Yasutora replied.

“Knight,” Ichigo answered.

She reached for the other chess pieces, but they rolled away the moment her fingertips brushed them.

She shrugged. “Sorry, guys.”

“So, he only wants to be friends with you?” Ichigo rolled his eyes. “Typical. Always the hard way, huh, Uryū?”

“Hmm.” Orihime looked up for a moment. “Hmmmmmm. Oh! They were bullied, too, you know? Quick! Tell him.”

Yasutora nodded. “I’m Chad Yasutora and I know what it’s like to look different. Be different. It was always hard for me to fit in. I…gave up trying and I…became a bully until my grandfather showed me how to be better than that. I…might not fit in even now…but I do have friends who accept me as I am. You’re one of them. I know I’m too late to help you much. But I’d still like to try.”

“Look at this hair!” Ichigo pointed to his head. “I’ve been jumped and bullied for it since preschool by the other kids. Teachers were always on my case, accusing me of dyeing it. It’s a pain in the ass. But why should I have to dye it black to make other people happy? You probably got told to put in contacts, right?”

The lights and the candles flickered.

Ichigo frowned. “Yeah, I figured. I’m glad you didn’t give in.”

The lights flickered again.

“And besides all that. We’re not just friends, we're family. Cousins. My name is Ichigo Kurosaki. I know you take pride in your name. Well, I take pride in mine: one who protects. And I’m first. That’s right. I was born before you so I got here first. That means you’re one of mine to protect, Uryū. I’d have come sooner, but our dads are stupid so I didn’t know about you until after this all happened. I’d have done something to help you.”

“Ouch. Didn’t have to word it quite like that, Son.”

He glowered. “You both had it coming.”

The lights flickered and then stabilized. Once they did, the black rook and the black knight were set on the table but not on the board with the other two pieces.

“You’re gonna have to lead this,” Ichigo told Orihime. “He trusts you more.”

She nodded determinedly. “Middle school Uryū? High school Uryū keeps thwarting your efforts. I know it’s not fair of us to ask so much of you, so soon. Especially when we haven’t proven ourselves to you but this is important!

There are things you want to tell us. Or, more like, there are things you want to tell your dad, right? When I was being bullied, I wasn’t honest with my big brother who…who was like a parent to me. I-I know it’s hard to tell them sometimes. I have to always wonder now how things might’ve gone…differently—” She blinked hard. “If I’d been more honest with him. So, I really admire how you’re trying to right a wrong. It’s…too late for me to…I can only move forward and apply what I’ve learned to my life now. But you…your loved one is still here and you’re trying to reconnect. You realized that you need his support and you’re reaching out. I admire that…I admire you. And I want you to know that we’re all here for you.”

She turned to Ryūken expectantly. Big brown eyes watched him.

He could faintly hear Masaki chastising him.

It was his cue to say something.

“…I…I’m… here, Son.”

The lights flickered again.

The television turned back on to static.

“I’m here,” he repeated.

The empty box flew across the room to hit him in the shins.

The chessboard shook.

The trophies and glass awards teetered.

“Don’t break your nice things,” he scolded instinctively.

Everything went still. The lights went back on. The presence began to fade.

“No! Damn it. Come back!” he ordered.

He pictured his high schooler running away from him…

“It’s alright!” he called.

And his middle schooler angrily slamming doors… 

“You’re right. Dad keeps interrupting you.” 

He envisioned his elementary schooler stomping a foot and crossing his arms because he felt he wasn’t being heard. 

“I’m sorry. Dad’s sorry.”

He remembered his toddler struggling to express what he was scared of as Hollows roared in the distance—burying his face into his father’s leg. 

Paternal instinct took over. 

“What’s wrong, my Ryū? Tell Dad what’s wrong?”

The candles went out.

And then all of the cellphones in the room began ringing, except his.

But whenever one phone was answered. 

“No one,” Ichigo murmured.

Yasutora shook his head.

Orihime frowned. “The line went dead.”

Isshin released a hard sigh. “Yeah, he hung up on me, too.”

Ryūken’s pager beeped. 

He stared at seeing his home office’s number listed. 

He knew his actual son wasn’t in there. He could sense him in the family wing, as well as…nearby.

The soul fragment…the poltergeist…felt very close.

His pager stopped and then his cellphone began ringing.

His work number this time…the call was being forwarded.

Coincidence? Or a work emergency?

It was half-past a quarter to ten. Drunk driving incident? It would figure if he had to be pulled away right in the middle of this.

He had no luck.

He answered, “Hello, yes, this Dr. Ryūken Ishida.”

There was silence save Ichigo’s iPod that was stuck on repeat.

“Hello?”

“…”

“Hello? I…” He swallowed. “I…I’m…” Intuition sparked. “I’m here…Ryū?”

“YOU’RE NOT LISTENING!!!” the young poltergeist raged.

Loud enough that everyone in the room heard.

“Whoa! He actually talked.” Ichigo was gobsmacked and shared a similar slack jawed expression with his father.

There was a prepubescent growl of frustration from the phone.

The box hit Ryūken hard in the face, causing his glasses to fall off and into the sagging cardboard as it fell back to the floor.

“Whoa!” Isshin squawked. “Hey! That is not okay, young man!”

“No…no…he’s frustrated with me. I’m sorry.” Ryūken spoke into the phone gently, “I’m sorry, my Ryū. I keep letting you down.”

The lights flickered as if in acknowledgment.

It hadn’t hung up on him yet.

“Ryuu?” Isshin murmured. “Maybe we should get Urahara? Maybe he can piece it together?”

“No, this is my son… I should be able to understand what he’s trying to tell me.” He frowned down at the box. The box that kept being tipped over. “Wait…is it that simple?”

Isshin blinked. “What?”

“Is it the box? What is it about the box, Son?”

The line went dead. He ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

He picked the box up, reached in, and put his glasses back on.

He studied it again. It seemed unremarkable aside from the date scrawled on it: 2001.

“Ryuu?”

“He’s been trying and trying and I’m not…I’m not—” Light blue eyes widened. “Seeing…”

He immediately moved to a drawer that he knew held a pair of scissors.

“Ryūken?”

Ryūken nodded in realization. “I’m not seeing…because I can’t see it.”

Isshin’s head tilted to the side. “What?”

“Wait.” Ryūken sat down. “More light.”

The room’s lights obliged—the dimmers dialed all the way up. The candles re-lit themselves.

“Whoa.” The others stared around.

“Thank you, Uryū,” he murmured softly. “You’re a good boy.”

There was a feeling of warmth near his elbow similar to what he’d experienced at the school by the display case.

His elementary schooler would often stand this close and he’d have to be careful not to elbow him.

He began carefully cutting the tape all around the box—peeling away layers that made it lumpy.

A middle school Junya had originally closed the box without tape and then added tape afterwards to reinforce the cardboard as it aged.

That meant the bottom panels overlapped one another.

He unfolded them now carefully and—

A mini camcorder disc slid free.

Chapter Text

No case.

Ryūken very carefully picked it up.

This was where the poltergeist’s energy was concentrated.

Warm and vibrant and so familiar it gave him flashbacks of picking his child up when he’d been small…

It had been trapped in the box waiting for Ryūken to find it.

He felt dense. No wonder the fragment grew increasingly frustrated.

It seemed very obvious now.

Left with the Gomis and then with the Kurosakis…being denigrated as troublesome when he was trying to help.

He saw his ten-year-old disappointed and sour because his good grades weren’t being celebrated after Sōken’s passing. 

He saw his eleven-year-old grumbling as he vied with a pager for his father’s attention. His twelve-year-old being interrupted because he didn’t have news Ryūken cared to hear.

His thirteen-year-old raging at him, slamming doors, kicking things in an attempt to be loud enough to get his help.

He saw his fourteen-year-old across from him at the table, miserable and quiet.

His fifteen-year-old left.

His highschooler then tried to scare him off and keep him away with hostility and belligerence.

And through this soul fragment…this poltergeist… his middle schooler had returned to give one last chance.

“I’m sorry, Ryū. Thank you for being so patient with me,” he murmured.

Isshin’s jaw dropped. “You mean he’s been trying to get us to find this thing the WHOLE time?”

“Yes.” Ryūken pulled out his small microfiber cleaning cloth and gently wiped the blue disc. “He’s been trying to tell me about this for months.”

“Do you have equipment for this type of disc?” Ichigo asked. “I mean, most of your stuff is kind of…outdated.”

That was a good point.

“No.”

“Urahara, it is. I’ll call him. We’ll let him figure something out.” Ichigo pulled out his cellphone.

“Thank you, nephew.”

His eyes stayed on the disc—almost the same blue as Uryū’s eyes.

“Well, congrats,” Urahara offered as he evaluated the disc with some manner of handheld scanner. “You’ve found the soul fragment. He’s in surprisingly good shape.”

The blond leaned in to stare at the disc Ryūken was holding.

He frowned and resisted the urge to step back.

It was odd. This was the same irritable, uncomfortable feeling he got when other people wanted to ogle at Uryū when he was a baby.

Urahara was always that bit too intrigued by a development. More curiosity than compassion—The difference between a scientist and a doctor like himself.

He wanted to tell Urahara to stand further away.

The ex-Shinigami was too interested. “Yeah. Not a lot of degrading because he chose to inhabit an object. Free floating soul fragments have a tendency to unravel unless they’re knotted together with a powerful, deep, usually negative, emotion.

You see that more with malevolent entities. The fact that this little guy probably figured it out on the spot? That he needed to attach to something small and relevant. That’s one smart cookie you’re holding.”

“Give that kid extra credit,” Isshin added on.

He didn’t like how cavalier they were being. 

“Where is Tessai?” Ryūken asked. 

He’d have felt better if that man was here. He knew Uryū and was supportive of him. Them. Both of them. He was trying to help them both salvage their relationship.

He didn’t let the conversations he witnessed devolve into petty arguments.

And he’d made the same comment that Isshin had about Ryūken “being young” but it held more gravity.

They weren’t just pointing out the obvious as Shinigamis’ age spans versus human ones. 

His own words rang painfully as he remembered equating the terms “young” and “foolish” to his son.

They saw Ryūken this way: immature and self-sabotaging.

He knew what mattered to him, who mattered to him, was deeply devoted, and he still let stupid things trip him up. Because he liked to be right. He liked to be respected. He liked to have his counsel valued and followed. He had a mulish, begrudging nature and a sharp sense of humor. And he couldn’t do what was in his own best self interest.

Kanae had overlooked his worst qualities.

Uryū found him difficult. 

No, Uryū found him tiring…and hateful.

Which was worse.

Sōken had found Ryūken difficult and continued to engage because he was up for the challenge of mediating with a differing perspective.

Uryū wasn’t.

At a certain point, Uryū made a decision: that whatever benefits that came from their relationship wasn’t enough to outweigh the bad aspects.

He chose to walk away from power, privilege, reputation, shelter, safety…

For silence…

Ryūken had misunderstood. He’d called it defiance and stupidity and understood his mother’s horror of him disappearing from the family home.

In some ways, Uryū’s departure paralleled his own near self-exile where honor and heritage and guilt and free will tangled together except…

A teenage Ryūken had felt lost. Adrift. Hopeless. Losing sight of everything as it grew too large and overwhelming.

Uryū’s reasons were different. 

Ryūken still didn’t know all of them. But somehow he had recognized, underneath his resentment and frustration, that he was getting tired.

His father wasn’t convincing him of anything; he was just wearing him down.

His father’s good intentions (which had steadily gotten sharper and more frequent the longer they went unacknowledged) didn’t come through…because they weren’t effective against the issues the boy was facing.

And at thirteen Uryū had deemed his father “useless.” A coward who hid from conflict rather than confronting it.  

Masaki hadn’t said that, instead she’d been very gentle as she noted differences between cousins.

But Uryū had different expectations of a father. And of himself.

Uryū could have held his own in a screaming match with Izumi.

He disobeyed Sōken when he felt like it.

He openly defied Ryūken.

And that speech he gave in the now missing VHS clearly felt it was him against the world—living and dead.

“He’s at the shop with the kids. School night,” Urahara told him offhandedly.

“Ah, right.”

Here he’d only been off a few days and he was already losing track of others’ schedules. Though, that was probably understandable given what was going on.

Urahara hooked up some machines he’d brought through by opening a portal and rolling them into the parlor. He was using a screen larger than the television’s.

“I’ll go ahead and make a double of the disc now. Save some hassle. Because whatever is on there probably needs to go to the police, too, right?” He extended his hands to accept the disc from him.

“Probably, yes, but…this…” Ryūken glanced down at the disc he was holding…had been holding since its discovery. It was very small and the machine was very big and ominous looking. “This won’t hurt him? You’re sure?” 

Urahara stared at him for a beat and then smiled slightly to reassure him. “Yeah, it’ll be okay. It’s the initial severing that’s painful. It-”

Ryūken frowned. It? It wasn’t an “it.” This was a fragment of his son.

Urahara caught on and cleared his throat. “He is just in a…liminal stasis of sorts.”

Ryūken frowned, not satisfied with the answer. “He still has feelings and impulses. Are you sure he’s not in pain? Or whether he can be caused pain?”

“If I get alerted to any sense of disturbance, or you get an inkling, I’ll stop the process and he’ll go right back to you.”

That was acceptable.

“Alright.”

“Do… you want to do the honors and set it in the tray?”

He nodded. “Yes, I think that would be better. He knows me.”

“Of course.” Urahara hit a series of buttons and then a tray extended out. 

Ryūken carefully set the disc down and promised, “It will be alright. I will intervene if something happens.”

Urahara blinked. “So….Anyway, is actual Uryū joining us or-?”

“No,” everyone answered. 

On hearing that the blond chuckled. “Oh, okay, so we’re sneaking around—that’s fine.” He performed a kido to help soundproof the room.

Isshin explained a bit more of the situation.

Urahara stopped smiling. “You think he asked Yhwach to steal the tape?”

“He got scared,” Ryūken defended. “I don’t know what’s on that tape but it distresses him.” 

Urahara considered that. “You think what was on that tape is on this disc? And both have to do with that meetup earlier?”

“Meetup?” Ichigo asked with a scowl.

“Uryū met with Junya while I was meeting with Towa and then the police officers,” Ryūken explained, leaving out that Isshin had accompanied him on the off-chance that they’d ever need to pull off something similar in regards to Ichigo.

“Suspicious,” Ichigo shrugged.

“I think so, yes.” Ryūken gave a surreptitious glance at a nearby frame which held a picture of himself, his wife, and a four-year-old Uryū. 

Sometimes, it was still hard to reconcile that smiling child who’d been so transparent in his efforts to make his parents proud with the moody, secretive teenager he had now.

“Okay. Let’s see what’s on here.” Kisuke looked over at the teenagers. “I take it that all of you want to stay for this?”

There were affirmative nods. 

“Alright. But that door stays unlocked and you can go. Anytime. Got it?”

That meant Uryū could come in at any point. He’d harbored a unique fear of Uryū entering a room when he shouldn’t ever since—

“Dad?”

He shook the memory away and concentrated. Uryū was a floor up in the family wing and judging from how calm and stationary his energy was—he was sleeping.

Good. More rest wouldn’t hurt. And more food. He was looking thin. He had a strong suspicion his son had skipped lunch today. He hadn’t eaten much at dinner either—too worried about the tape.

The sooner Ryūken knew what was going on, the sooner the matter could be resolved.

The video began with a fifteen-year-old Junya who was pale and shaky as he faced the camera which was likely on a tripod of some kind. 

It seemed like he was filming in a dimly lit garage. The main source of lighting was a utility light hanging from the ceiling.

It made it all seem very dramatic.

He swallowed. “My name is Junya Gomi and I’m fifteen. I go to Karakura Academy. And I’ve made this video compilation as a timeline that shows the escalation of physical and verbal violence my friend and classmate, Uryū Ishida, suffered at the hands of Sho Aso. 

Aso is a teacher at our school. He…was our homeroom teacher until we transferred out. And even that wasn’t enough to get him to leave Ishida alone. He’s…obsessed with him. He’s…dangerous.

That’s why I…I implore you officers at Karakura Police Headquarters…” He bowed. “Please, help us. Please watch and accept this video as evidence. Please protect my friend. Understand that this wasn’t a one-time incident. It kept building.”

His shoulders shook.

“I’m a filmmaker so I recorded a lot at school throughout the past few years. So, I have dates and times. I know we’re minors and you probably think this a joke or that we’re being overly sensitive but…I really and truly believe that if you arrest Aso and then let him go…he’ll…he’ll... Please help us!”

There was a black screen with a date: September 2, 1998

It showed highlights from the first episode of the unedited Sensei Ishida.

More dates and altercations followed.

There was Aso slamming a hand on Ishida’s graffiti covered desk and ordering him to read some of the insults out. And then saying, “If it were only one or two taunts, Ishida, that would be one thing. But how can this many people be wrong? I think you’re the problem here, Uryū.”

This was on tape. 

That thought kept circling in his head. This was on tape and hadn’t been reported.

One visit to Karakura General with a VHS of this and he’d have stormed down to the school to intervene and get his son to safety. 

It would have been dealt with immediately.

The videos built up to the cigarette being ground into his glasses.

That was the start of Aso becoming more physically aggressive. He’d grab Uryū’s backpack and drag him back to deliver a jibe. Or he’d bump hard into him as they passed each other in the halls.

There was one where Junya caught the end of Uryū falling down a short flight of stairs and Aso appearing right after inquiring if he was alright.

Aso tutted. “I guess Gyōu’s head is still up in the clouds thinking he’s a star. Gravity had to do its work. Be more careful on the stairs, Ishida.”

Uryū did not look at him and gingerly massaged his ankles.

“You probably thought the bruises he was getting were all from Hollow-hunting and schoolyard fights,” Urahara murmured.

The adults were remembering the thirteen-year-old’s injured ankles.

The teenagers commented something but it was hard to concentrate on them when—

Not Hollows. 

Bruises and scrapes that weren’t from Hollows. 

“…I can’t tell you anything.”

Ryūken didn’t speak. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He simply remained standing near the screen.

He was waiting for the altercation that had been interrupted earlier that night.

October 20th, 1999

“That’s today,” Orihime realized. “October twentieth.”

A chill ran down Ryūken’s spine.

An anniversary. Was that what was energizing the poltergeist to make a stand?

The next scene was familiar. 

Aso was drunk and belligerent.

Uryū was sarcastic and obstinate.

Uryū made to leave and was grabbed.

“I…I couldn’t beat him… but I…fought him off.”

The boy tried to perform an escape maneuver common to martial arts disciplines.

Ryūken waited. Hoped. Expected Uryū to break free. Maybe deliver a kick to the shin and a rude gesture as he escaped?

[*Trigger Warning* Begins:]

Aso rushed forward and slammed the child hard enough into the wall to stun and knock the wind out of him.

That was only the beginning.

“I…I couldn’t beat him… but I…fought him off.”

Ryūken’s eyebrows drew together in horror. “No.”

Thirteen-year-old Uryū struggled to regain his breath and break his attacker’s hold on him.

He slapped unsuccessfully at the hands gripping him and, the moment he had enough air in his lungs, shouted, “Let go! Stop! Help! Someone-help! SOMEBODY! HELP ME!”

These were all the things a child his age was instructed to do if they found themselves in trouble.

And yet children rarely understood just how dangerous an adult could be.

The longer reach, the heavier build, the strength…

The strength…

The disparity in strength between a grown man and a child…

“I am helping you, Uryū. You never shut up about your mom and grandpa. So how ‘bout I send you to them?” Aso grinned, eyes gleaming. “One quick drop off the terrace and-” 

“HELLLP!”

Ryūken’s adrenaline spiked and his teeth clenched. This was the worst kind of helplessness. It was more than just a screen separating them—it was time and space. 

He could not get there.

All those years of training—hirenkyaku was worthless.

“-and you’ll have a happy little family reunion? And, just like that, we right the wrong. You’ll be where you belong. At last. I remember the moment I heard at the faculty meeting about your incident at the cemetery. If you wanted a spot there so badly—”

“Someone, help me, please.” Uryū locked eyes with Junya who was frozen in horror.

“-All you had to do was ask, Uryū,” Aso sneered.

And then Uryū’s blue eyes went to the left.

Junya’s camera moved to follow and he jumped a little at the sight of a pregnant female teacher who was watching it all unfold and who hadn’t been sighted by Aso yet.

She was vaguely familiar—a background person in ‘Sensei Ishida.’

Her eyes were wide but she made no move or sound.

Even while part of Ryūken understood that she was a parent herself and had a responsibility to protect her unborn child…the fact was… her sense of self-preservation left his son on the sacrificial altar…

She could grab that fire extinguisher beside her and make use of it.

As someone who continually saved lives day in and day out, it seemed a small thing to want his community to watch out for his child when he couldn’t—when he was busy helping them.

This was a betrayal. 

Aso’s voice was loud and abrasive. “A little too convenient, I think. That he was the one that found you? Really? O I feel so sorry for your father, Uryū. It must’ve been such a disappointment when you survived that fall.”

Stress had a way of exacerbating Ryūken’s case of tinnitus.

Too many Ginto explosions as a growing child had caused some mild inner ear damage that blut didn’t fully defend against.

His ears were ringing.

His ears often rang in a lot of his worst moments—the change in blood flow as a fight or flight response activated.

He’d already been on edge from the painstaking thought that went into this compilation. That Junya could be so intimately aware of everything that had gone on and stayed silent.

Stayed silent.

Even now.

The cover up…

This…

Aso’s casual reference of that awful moment where his child lay broken and bleeding at the cemetery... as though Ryūken would feel anything besides horror that it happened and gratitude that he survived…

Aso was a monster.

Junya knew it.

Ryūken knew it now and yet…seeing it like this…

Knowing his middle schooler had encountered him every day.

Every. Single. Day.

Sensed that energy from the morning until the afternoon.

Evil.

He probably came across like a Hollow in human flesh.

What did that constant exposure do to Uryū’s spirit detection?

Was it like nerve damage?

And then Yhwach, by virtue of being a Quincy, couldn’t feel like that?

But if Uryū could sense intent…why..?

Were his senses deadened because of this? Even before the soul injury? Or had it contributed to it?

Uryū growled and managed to land a sharp kick on the man’s shin. Aso retaliated by lifting him up and slamming him down against the floor. 

Ryūken physically jerked on seeing it.

Pure luck meant his son’s skull hadn’t cracked against the polished floor—killing him instantly because he didn’t have blut.

It still meant— 

His back collided hard and forced all the air from his lungs for a second time and then Aso set a knee on the boy’s chest before he could recover.

Compressive asphyxia.

Everything Aso was doing showed complete disregard for Uryū’s life.

He wasn’t trying to merely intimidate him. No. He had every intention of killing him.

His child squirmed weakly as he rasped, “Stop…help…someone…please help.”

“What’s wrong, tough guy?!” he taunted. “Not so tough? Huh?”

Uryū threw a punch that Aso caught easily.

“Awww. That’s right. You’re a leftie. This is your stronger hand.” He grinned viciously as he pinned that hand to the floor with ease.

Uryū instinctively tried to use his other hand to push Aso off him.

Aso caught that arm, too. “Hmm. That means, this is your healing wrist, right? The one that’s been in a cast all this time? All better?” 

He squeezed the bones of the child’s forearm eliciting a soft cry of pain…because the child was running out of air.

Ryūken trembled, hearing the primordial: Dad, where are you?! in that sound.

And he could do nothing.

“Aww. Guess not.”

“No… please…stop…don’t do…this…someone…help me-” Uryū whimpered.

“Now, now, Uryū. It’s just you and it’s just me. Try again.”

“Please, please. I know you’re there,” he sobbed and choked.

Light blue eyes went wide: Uryū could sense all the spirit ribbons—All the adults that were there in the building…that could hear him and did nothing.

Ryūken seethed. 

The other videos that Urahara had shown him were awful but in ways he could stomach more easily—dangers that generally made sense to a Quincy even if he hated that. 

There was something particularly insidious here. That it could be allowed to happen in such a normal place in plain sight with no intervention.

His child was supposed to be safe there—safeguarded by adults who dedicated themselves to nurturing younger generations.

“Go on, Uryū.” Aso hooked a finger under the bridge of Uryū’s glasses and flicked them off his face to clatter nearby. 

He wanted to look directly into the child’s eyes as he ordered, “Beg. Maybe I’ll change my mind?”

The child coughed and spluttered, “I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryplease please stop.”

Ryūken bit down on his cheek hard enough to taste blood.

He scanned the scene with a father’s dread and a doctor’s knowledge.

Aso’s weight was crushing the child.

Uryū was turning purple.

Any minute, he was going to start seizing.

“See?! You still have manners. You forget. I met you before you started acting up. I know how you really are. This tough guy persona never fooled me, Uryū Ishida. I know what a mild-mannered goody two shoes pushover you are. You should’ve stayed that way—It wouldn’t have needed to come to this.”

Uryū’s feet kicked spastically and he whined miserably, sounding like a puppy being throttled.

Soft squeaks of pain…

Their baby… 

Kanae…

He couldn’t even ask for her forgiveness.

Junya’s camera panned, he noticed a fire alarm, he started to reach for it, the teacher grabbed his hand and bodily pulled him back.

Her eyes were wide. She wanted them to hide and wait it out.

Ryūken hated her. Hated them all. How could they just stand there?!

“But since I’m such a good sport, let’s try this one last time,” Aso instructed haughtily. “A retake test if you will—”

Uryū coughed weakly, saliva from choking dripping down his chin. Tears were sliding down his face.

His nose was starting to run as he mouthed the word “Please.”

“What’s that? Enunciate. Or you won’t get full points,” Aso instructed.

The camera slowly moved away, as if Junya was ashamed to catch this on film, choosing to focus on Uryū’s left hand which was scrabbling for…

A doorstop. 

His fingertips were just touching it.

Uryū wheezed.

“What? Here. Let me help.” Aso moved his knee a fraction. 

Uryū almost gagged as he tried sucking in a deeper breath.

“There you go. Go on. Deep breath. Now convince me, Ishida.” 

The child coughed hard.

“There is a time limit!” Aso warned.

“Sicko,” Isshin growled. “Damn, he’s lucky he’s dead. He really got out easy. Kisuke, do us a favor. Look him up in the Seireitei.”

“Now, now, like you even have to ask.”

That monster had every intention of dragging this out and toying with Uryū.

“S-s-” He took another deep breath.

“Come on, Uryū. How many chances do you expect?” 

“Sorry,” he gritted out and then he kneed the man between the legs as hard as he could.

Ryūken was vaguely aware of Isshin standing up and cheering “YES!” behind him.

There was a hiss of pain and outrage. 

But for Uryū, that slight lapse in Aso’s concentration meant he could reach for that doorstop.

When Aso grabbed him viciously by the hair, Uryū struck with his improvised weapon.

Aso screamed.

There were cheers in the room. More commentary he couldn’t focus on.

This… this was how Aso has lost the eye.

His son’s nightmare…he’d been reliving this…

And not long ago when he’d asked—

“Did you hear how Aso lost his eye? Dr. Oguro asked his son and his son’s friends and there are lots of rumors. Uryū?”

“Mmhm.” 

“Do you know?”

“Mmhm.”

He had known exactly how it occurred.

“Can you tell me?”

“…Proud of me?”

He had even answered him.

And Ryūken had replied—

“Always.”

And Uryū had been relieved to hear that from him.

Which was as infuriating as it was understandable—Of course, he approved! That monster had been trying to murder him!

But he’d been a child when this happened and there was terror tangled in the memory. Lines had been crossed; things he’d been told about authority figures had been false and he’d harmed one to defend himself.

Ryūken gasped as he refocused on the screen and—

Aso threw Uryū across the hall where he hit a trash can—knocking it over. The boy scrambled to his feet and tried to get to the stairs.

Aso blocked his path forcing him to enter an adjacent classroom and then limped after him—bleeding and furious.

Junya rushed to the window, guessing that Uryū would try to make some kind of escape involving the great Zelkova tree near the building.

“It’s after hours. The windows are locked,” the woman mumbled.

“Oh no,” Junya whispered—fearful that this meant his friend was trapped in the next classroom over with a homicidal maniac.

Teacher and student then watched in shock as a desk crashed through the next room’s window. A backpack sailed out next, falling several stories to the ground.

Logically, Ryūken could guess what was coming but his heart still stopped as—

Uryū jumped from the window sill to the tree despite it being so high up.

Aso screeched in rage but he didn’t dare follow.

Uryū caught himself on a branch and then desperately made his way down.

“We need to go.” The woman pulled Junya to follow her.

There was shaky camera footage of stairs and feet as she took them through another exit route out of the building. They came outside in time to catch Aso tearing after Uryū across the green, manicured lawns of the institution.

In the distance, Uryū was sprinting for the school’s gate and abruptly performed a hammer throw that sent his backpack through the air and onto the spikes at the top of the gate.

The boy then jumped up, using one strap of his backpack to help secure him as he ran up the bricks securing the gate. He flipped up and over the spikes of the gate—pulling his backpack free and landing catlike on the other side.

The power of ransōtengai. He was as skilled as Kanae was in using it.

If only he’d employed it sooner… 

If only he’d had blut…

Aso was furiously typing in a code to open the gate while Uryū was sprinting away down the sidewalk.

[*Trigger Warning* Ends:]

The video segued to a black screen.

This man was dead, Ryūken reminded himself.

Dead. Torn apart by a train. There was nothing more to be done.

Could never hurt his child or anyone else again…

It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t—

He was so angry. It was hard to see straight. He didn’t know what to do with all of this anger. He’d been able to channel all his hatred at Yhwach into a quest for vengeance.

What was he supposed to do here?

How could he pay back that cruelty?

The video paused. 

“Ryūken, you alright?” Kisuke asked softly.

Did he expect an answer to the obvious?

It was taking everything to keep his spiritual pressure in check. He didn’t want to destroy the parlor; Kanae had liked it here. 

He didn’t want to startle Uryū into coming down and seeing him like this and being afraid.

He remembered the startled looks he’d gotten when they were training to restore his powers.

Had assumed it was because his son wasn’t used to combatants getting that close. Not because he was remembering—

“Do you need a breather? I’m asking because this isn’t the end. There’s still more after this,” Urahara said solemnly.

His stomach flopped at that. He took deep breaths to try and center himself. 

Isshin grimaced. “There’s more?”

“‘Fraid so.”

Isshin’s expression darkened. “A lot more? Or a little?”

“Enough for me to pause and ask.”

Ryūken looked warily at the other occupants of the room, remembering belatedly that they were all here.

The girl, Orihime, was in tears but she made no move to leave.

Ichigo looked angry. His hands were white-knuckled as he clenched them  but he gave Ryūken a grim nod—he could continue. As did Yasutora.

They would see this through for their friend.

It was different for him; This wasn’t a friend or a comrade at arms who’d survived a terrible ordeal and this was a way to show respect and solidarity.

They had faith in Uryū’s strength. They’d always known him as a teenager who was one of the more capable among them.

This was…his…

“Ryūken? Can you continue?”

…little dragon…

His little dragon whom he’d brought home almost eighteen years ago. 

He’d been so nervous as he set the newborn in the car seat and drove home.

Fed him, bathed him, carried him everywhere…

For whom, he did everything he could to protect him from bumps and bruises as he learned to walk.

He bundled him up warmly in winter.

Was very careful with him in summer.

Always did what he could to keep him safe and well cared for.

The food he ate. The clothes he wore. The toys he liked best. The topics they discussed as he grew older. How he gently directed and encouraged his interests and creativity.

He had low blood pressure, but as long as it was taken into account, there was nothing to stop him from having a normal childhood and growing up well and strong.

Their son was so bright—a genius. They had been determined to nurture that light.

He and Kanae had made a point to plan and ensure a good education—

He choked and clapped a hand to his mouth.

“Ryūken?” A waste bin was offered. 

He shakily accepted it and stationed it nearby.

“Ryuu?”

He jerked his head in a nod and steeled himself.

He would continue. He had to.

His son needed him.

Then he could know more about the situation.

The video had switched back to fifteen-year-old Junya.

“You’re probably wondering why we didn’t report this. We should have. Uryū was probably scared of retaliation and I…I guess I’m just stupid. Weak. Uryū called me that weekend and told me he was okay and I believed him.” He scrubbed at his eyes. 

Ryūken’s temper revived.

What an idiot? Junya couldn’t be sincere?! Was this an act? Was he trying to justify his actions?

“And we both went to school that next week and Aso was on a leave of absence. He didn’t come back. Terms continued. Everything became peaceful. Just normal middle school drama again. And I willed myself to forget. To move on. Act like it didn’t happen. Like it was just a bad dream. That’s why I feel so responsible now. Because it wasn’t over.” His breath hitched and he leaned over as he wrapped his arms around himself. “It wasn’t over.”

And he’d had the audacity to look Ryūken in the face and act like all he wanted was to help while keeping quiet about all of this.

March 19, 2001

The next video began.

Chapter Text

Ryūken noted that there was something bittersweet as Junya waved to his friend group—all taller and older than the opening episodes of Sensei Ishida but still so young.

Though, it was tinged with a disorienting sense of horror that none of them knew what Junya and Uryū did. 

Secret keeping…

Junya moved on. His gait was steadier. The filming was better.

It was becoming clearer that a career as a professional cameraman wasn’t so outlandish anymore. 

There was a banner strung across the hallway celebrating the final week of school and wishing them luck on their exams.

Junya’s camera zoomed in, down the hall towards the administrative office.

Uryū…

He was taller. Fifteen now instead of thirteen.

Ridiculously thin.

Ryūken frowned—knowing at once the boy wasn’t eating well.

Junya moved closer.

“Hey Junya,” Uryū greeted without turning, voice deeper and smoother than it had been in any of the previous video clips.

Ryūken had missed this change—the full onset of adolescence.

Junya made a dramatic sigh. “You are so lucky your voice changed. I’m jealous. I’m gonna enter high school as the only guy who hasn’t—” 

Uryū laughed and, somehow impossibly, he sounded young and carefree. 

It hurt. To have missed out on this…this person…

Moving out had…lightened him up.

And—because that wasn’t soul-crushing enough to see—to know he’d survived the previous incident, spirit still intact—meaning he could’ve protected him from incurring that fateful soul injury—

They might’ve reconciled sooner. But he’d stayed away and in doing so—

Uryū grinned mischievously. “Maybe you should spend spring break visiting shrines?”

“Yeah, I’m sure the higher powers of the universe want to hear me whine.”

“Like they haven’t heard pettier things?” He set a medal into a cardboard box.

Ryūken came closer and focused even harder on the screen. His son was emptying the display case. That was why it had mattered to the poltergeist. He’d been emptying it that day when the whole catastrophe started.

Junya panned over the display—medals, plaques, awards, newspaper articles. “I’m kinda sad to see all of your stuff come down. Do you have room for it? Chiba said that your place is small.”

“She and Towa have offered to store some of it at the dojo, if only to prevent me from having a shrine to myself.” Uryū started laughing at the thought and Junya joined in.  

Uryū looked over his shoulder, at the camera, bright blue eyes shining.

Cameras liked him.

Uryū had always been an attractive child, but here it was clear that it was starting—he was becoming a handsome young man.

Kanae would’ve enjoyed subtly boasting about him to every person she encountered. 

She’d proudly declared from the day he was born that Uryū was raven-haired—his hair being so black it had a metallic blue sheen.

And that he had his father’s good looks.

She’d always seen Ryūken’s best features in him. Ryūken always saw hers.

“So? What brings you here?”

“Um…my locker in the getabako jammed. I mean, it can wait until after you’re done.”

“It’s fine.” He pushed the box fully into the display cabinet and locked it. He slipped the key into his pocket. “I can finish later.”

“Wow, the office just gave the key to you?” Junya was impressed.

“Yeah.”

“Sato really trusts you.”

Uryū smiled and nodded. “He does.”

They walked along.

Ryūken frowned. The other clips were edited more. Why was this one longer? 

“Soooo. What’s it like living on your own? Calling all the shots? My dad keeps getting on me. He wants me to grow up and let filmography go. He keeps using the ‘as long as you’re sleeping under my roof’ bit to lecture me. What’s it like being beyond that?” 

Ryūken half-expected Uryū to boast.

Uryū sighed. “Honestly? Living on my own?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay, but this is just between us. Edit it out.”

“You got it.”

“Honestly?” He said again as he considered the question seriously. “It’s… it’s really scary, Jun. It’s hard scraping enough money for rent and food. And the utilities aren’t reliable. Sometimes, it’s so cold your breath fogs. The lights go out. The walls are thin and there are roaches. Some of the tenants are gang members and there are fights and break-ins and I’m sure there’s drug deals going on. I’m too scared to take the elevator there because someone bad could enter and cause trouble. There are people who wander around drunk, knocking on doors at all hours. But it’s the families whose parents scream at each other late at night and the breaking glass and the kids crying that makes it…hard to…stay when I could just… go…”

Ryūken’s spine stiffened. Go home? When he could just go home?

“Is that why you won’t let us visit? Just Chiba and Towa?”

He grimaced. “They understand how things work on that side of town. You and the others…you could get hurt.”

“Sounds awful. Can you afford somewhere better?”

“No, I’d have to get a steadier job with regular hours-”

“Your grades would suffer-”

“I know! Sewing just doesn’t cover…I don’t know how long I can keep this up.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“Whoa…that’s…wait, are you thinking of moving back?”

Ryūken couldn’t help the slight gasp. 

“What? No! Maybe…” He flushed to the tips of his ears before shrugging, “I don’t know.” He fiddled with the cuffs of his uniform. “I kinda crossed the rubicon with the letter I left. And it’s not like Ryūken is making any effort in trying to patch things up with me.”

Foolish thing—he was the one who ran away. Any movement on Ryūken’s part could’ve turned it into a game of chase. He’d had to stay still. Wait for the child to return to his senses.

Had he really been on the brink of a breakthrough?

“So apologize first,” Junya advised.

Uryū shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

Yes, it was.

“Eating some crow to ensure you wake up with both kidneys seems pretty simple to me.”

That. Exactly.

“I’m not just thinking of me, Jun. Things… might be easier for him with me gone. You know? Clean start?” He bit his lip.

Ryūken stared. What the hell was he going on about? 

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying he might not want me to come back. He’s probably finally…leading the normal life he always wanted.”

Idiot. He was a complete idiot. There was no life without him. Normal or abnormal. 

“So ask him in a really public place where he’ll look like a total asshole if he says no.”

Ryūken’s lips twitched—sound advice. It would’ve shocked the boys, how easily he would’ve accepted the request. He’d prepared for it every hour since that dumb letter was left to him.

Uryū started laughing. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They continued walking down the hall. He started snickering again. 

“What are you picturing?” Junya asked.

“Me interrupting one of his meetings with the board of directors to ask him to take me home? Or-or during one of those fluff pieces the T.V. news crews do to talk up the hospital? Can you just imagine Dr. Snowman’s face?” 

Little idiot.

Either of those scenarios would have been fine. He’d have graciously accepted both spectacles in succession, would’ve traded his dignity in a heartbeat for his son’s safety.

Live television would’ve only meant he’d have that moment of filial repentance recorded for all time.

He would undergo far more perilous things  if he could erase the previous altercation entirely, if he could change it all—go back, send him to an entirely different school—reconcile, keep him close, safeguard him from Yhwach…

Junya laughed, too, albeit a bit forcedly before saying, “Who knows? Maybe he’ll be relieved?” 

“Doubt it.”

Several students waved and said “hello,” as they traveled, including some girls who blushed a bit.

Uryū seemed largely oblivious to the effect he was having on others.

One bigger student stopped.

“Hey Uryū.”

“Hey Ousuke.”

Ousuke Katsura, the one-time antagonist of a play, had grown even taller and broader in comparison to his peers.

His hair was spiked up and he wasn’t wearing a tie—the unbuttoned collar showed off a gold chain around his throat.

Ryūken thought he looked foolish, especially next to Uryū whose shirt was properly buttoned, his jacket well-ironed, and who’d finally mastered a double Windsor knot.

Ousuke fidgeted and looked away. “Thanks for letting me crash your study sessions. It really helped my grade. And I feel better going into the exams now. My mom won’t shut up about it, so…here.” He offered an envelope. “My parents are letting me throw a party at their lodge in Shizuoka, you’re invited. But you can’t be lame, okay? I know it’s hard for you.”

“Are your parents making you invite me?”

“Yeah, but it’s my older cousin who’s hosting. It’ll be cool. It’s co-ed and there’s a hot tub and my friends are going to try and score some…stuff.”

Uryū stared down at the invitation. “Ah, thanks.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s networking, Ishida.”

“…Yeah...”

“I’ll grant you that you know how tests and classes work, but…you gotta get better at this part.” He flicked the envelope with his fingers.

“No, you’re right.”

Ousuke fidgeted as if in awe that Uryū could concede that to him. That he could be right. “Look, if you come…just…dial it back a bit, okay? 

“Right.”

“You do that and… I’ll try to watch out for you. You… just…no soapbox speeches, okay?” 

“Mhmm.”

Ousuke leaned against the wall and made eyes at some girls walking past them before returning his attention to Uryū. “We’re both shoo-ins for Karakura Prep sooo…you help me, I’ll help you.”

Uryū nodded.

“Think about it.”

“Thanks, Ousuke.”

It was after Ousuke left and turned a corner, and they were moving along that Junya cheered. “Oh! That party’s gonna be so cool. You have to tell us all about it. Seriously. Take notes. What are you going to wear? It has to be something cool. Like, like, sew something cool! We can look at magazines!”

As they continued walking, Uryū casually threw the envelope in a trash can.

Ichigo burst out laughing. “Good choice. He was a tool.”

“Hey! Why would you do that?!” Junya demanded.

“Huh?” Uryū stared blankly at the camera.

“That was your chance! To be popular. To be one of them.”

One of Uryū’s eyebrows rose quizzically. “You heard him. I’d have to ‘dial myself back.’ I’d have to be less myself to fit in.”

Yasutora smirked.

Junya gave a hard scoff. “Wow. It must be really nice to be able to choose to be an outcast. The rest of us don’t. We just wind up where the social lottery leaves us.”

Uryū frowned gravely.

Ryūken was startled at seeing a remnant of Sōken resurface in Uryū’s features. 

“I don’t want to compromise on what matters most to me.”

Orihime nodded in approval.

Junya was blunt. “Those kids grow up to be the people who run things.”

Uryū’s tone was stern. “I don’t want to be surrounded by people who don’t like me. Who put up with me to pass a class. I give them answers and study tips and they give me invites and tell me how to dress so I can be in their photos? Pass.”

“So…because you think your Mom and Grandpa wouldn’t like them, you’ll give up on even trying to climb the social ladder. You’ll just stay out here on the fringe—”

“They wouldn’t like them. They’d be disappointed in me if I went. If I lowered my—”

“Yeah, well, they’re dead. Who cares what matters to them!? Hell, they won’t even know if you go or not!”

Uryū visibly flinched—hurt and shock flashing over his features.

Ichigo stood up, furious—ready to fight or yell.

A cousin’s anger.

Junya was immediately remorseful. “Damn it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I—that was a messed up thing to say—”

“It’s… alright. We’re…we’re still off the record,” he offered weakly.

It was too generous. It was what Ryūken always dreaded—how easily his son’s kindness could be taken advantage of by others. 

“No, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just jealous. I’ll never be cool. Nobody will say my name and…I’m…I’m sorry, Uryū.”

And because Uryū was too much like Kanae, he accepted the apology.

Uryū paused for a moment to stare out the window. “…I…I’ve done a lot of thinking at my apartment—seeing the kinds of people there. It’s been building up…the decision I have to make—deciding who I want to be… what I think is right… my grandpa warned me. How it was going to guide me…shape me into the man I’ll become. I don’t like where I’m headed so I’ve been trying to straighten things out. Clean up my reputation. I-I want my name to mean something. When someone says ‘Uryū Ishida’ I want them to think, ‘Yeah, I know him; he’s trustworthy. He’s a stand up guy.’ I want people to look at this part of my life and shrug, ‘Yeah, he was kind of a punk, but it was just a phase.’”

“Damn it,” Isshin sighed. “You could’ve reconciled with him. Right then.”

“…” Hindsight was worthless.

Uryū looked back at Junya. “However, if I go to things like this …where there’s probably going to be drinking or smoking or worse…it’s going to confirm it. That I am a delinquent. That everything people say about me is true. I’m just a self-righteous, hypocritical smart ass that no one likes. That all the test scores don’t mean anything. Just potential that won’t be realized. And that I just did the things I did for attention and not because it mattered.”

That was a very soulful, responsible introspection.

Maybe he had just needed a little time away to clear his head? A little bit of struggle to put things into perspective?

Where was this Uryū? His eyes flickered over to the disc.

Splintered.

Damn it. He could’ve put Uryū up at a hotel for the final semester of middle school. One with a kitchenette. Ryūken could have paid for the room but let Uryū cover his own groceries—

That would have let his son safely experience some independence while coming to terms with how money worked in the real world—it wasn’t just a miserly pursuit; one had to survive. He’d have soon learned what little he made from sewing wouldn’t go far enough to live comfortably.

He would’ve been humbled without putting him at risk.

Damn it. Hindsight…

“You do what you do because you’re a good person,” Junya answered. 

“If I was really a good person, I wouldn’t need to do things loud and flashy.”

“That’s just you, you idiot,” Ichigo grumbled. “You’re that way about everything.”

Yes, he was.

Junya was alarmed.

“W-what? Of course you’re a good person,” Junya argued. “Are you not listening to Chiyo? She’s constantly—How is…that’s not-”

“I didn’t think about you right then. Throwing it away like that in front of you was rude. I’m sorry, Jun.”

“…No… you don’t have to…”

There was a somewhat solemn silence until—

“After exams, my family’s going to Hokkaido to visit my uncle. Want to come?” Junya asked softly.

“Thanks but…I… can’t afford a trip. And I don’t want to impose.”

“We’ll just tell my parents what’s going on with your…living situation and I’m sure that they’ll let you come.”

Ryūken’s teeth clenched. If his parents had been made aware…

“What I said before was crappy, but what I mean is, you…you deserve to live your life. I get that you have really high standards for yourself. I respect that… But I’m just worried that you never get to enjoy anything because of it.”

“…”

“Damn it, I want to dislike Junya but then he goes and says that,” Ichigo grumbled and scratched his head.

Light blue eyes glanced briefly at his nephew and he scoffed.

A father’s fury was darker and longer lasting. 

It was yet one more mark against Junya in Ryūken’s book.

He was not mollified. This apology was weak compared to the insults that were made. Uryū adored his mother. Idolized his grandfather. To say what Junya had…those were knives plunged in his son’s heart.

There was an uncomfortable twinge as he acknowledged his own hypocrisy because he was seldom tactful when it came to Uryū’s attachment to Sōken. He was trying to get better. To get over his resentment of the man. (It was largely in part because much of what Uryū was sharing revealed that his father wanted his child and grandchild to be reconciled regardless of what they decided about their heritage.)

He hated being a Quincy and all he’d lost because of it. He was jealous of losing the role of beloved mentor to Sōken. He had mocked his child’s behavior and actions. But it was…the foolishness he abhorred. Not…not the love.

That Uryū loved his grandfather and continued… to cherish his memory even after his death…

His son’s love for his mother was natural.

He would love them both forever.

To scoff at that…simply because death was in the way…

Gomi…

That spoiled, sheltered little idiot. He’d never experienced a profound loss.

“I’ve got money saved up. And I’ve received a whole lot of tutoring and coaching I never paid you for. A trip to Hokkaido is the least I can do.”

“After exams?” Uryū asked.

“Yeah, it’ll be awesome. And then just wait till our first semester in high school starts. They’ll be all ‘Did you hear? Ishida was a no show to the coolest party during Spring Break. Where was he?’ And I’ll be like, ‘Oh, yeah, that. He was hanging out with my family playing Go.’”

“I’m really good at Go.”

“Okay! It’s a plan.”

Uryū smiled.

And he looked so much like Kanae.

And then his son shivered and his eyes went wide—eyebrows going up and together.

And he looked even more like his mother.

Alarm. He sensed Aso.

“Uryū? Are you okay?”

He nodded once silently.

Junya lowered his voice. “Did you get one of your psychic premonitions?”

Uryū bit his lip for a moment before saying, “We need to hurry. We need to be quiet. We’ll get your shoes. But once we do, be ready to run.”

Ryūken scowled in worry. He was tempting fate, wasn’t he? Why not leave immediately? Because it left Junya vulnerable.

“Huh? What?”

“Shh.”

They crept quietly into the getabako. He tried jerking the locker door open but to no avail.

He had to hit it in two places for it come open. 

Loud sounds. Ones that would draw attention.

Junya set the camera down on the bench as he quickly swapped shoes.

Just not quickly enough.

“Well, well, well.” The voice of Sho Aso rang out.

“Look at you two? All grown up now. Especially you, huh, tough guy? Good. It means we can finally talk man to man. Doesn’t it?”

Junya immediately took up his camcorder once more.

Aso was a dark figure against the afternoon sunlight.

It was still noticeable that he was wearing an eyepatch and was even less kempt than the last time he’d been recorded.

His hair was longer and greasier.

His clothing was sloppy.

“Sure,” Uryū replied coolly, moving into the aisle. 

Ryūken felt a shiver. By Uryū’s own account, that was the first big mistake. 

He turned to Junya and told him very quietly, “Outside of the school on the corner, there’s a pay phone. Wait there. Ten minutes. If I don’t meet you by then, call the police.”

“Uryū, Uryū, Uryū, don’t go.” He clutched at his friend’s sleeve.

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t have all day,” Aso snapped.

“Yeah, yeah,” Uryū gave back—already falling into the familiar dynamic they had. “Whatever. You waited this long, you can wait another minute.”

Except it was an act because Junya’s camera could see Uryū’s hands were shaking.

He lowered his voice even more so only his friend would hear. “When I go, you go. Got it?”

“Uryū?”

Uryū squinted at Aso as if in concentration. “I think…he really does want to talk to me—”

Second mistake. Had he read his spirit ribbon wrong? Were his abilities failing him already?

Junya’s breathing was rapid and nervous. “Uryū, no—”

“But just in case, be ready. Ten minutes. Okay?” 

“O-okay,” Junya replied reluctantly.

“A-and then we plan for the Hokkaido trip. I just…have to…” he swallowed hard and took a deep breath, bracing himself. “I just have to deal with this first.”

Head up, shoulders back, he walked towards Aso.

And Junya got away.

The next big mistake…

Junya was waiting by the pay phone when Uryū came into view. 

“Junya, have you called?”

“Huh, no, it hasn’t been ten minutes.”

“Call! Call right now! Right now!”

“Okay. But what am I supposed to…say…oh no. Oh no.” Junya pointed to where a knife was in Uryū’s shoulder.

Uryū followed and for a moment, he stared in wide-eyed disbelief and horror. He blinked hard and his mouth trembled.

“He…he stabbed me…I’m…” He started to reach for the handle.

“No,” Ryūken breathed. He needed to leave it and get to a hospital.

“Uryū?” Junya whispered.

And Uryū let his hand fall as he tacked his panic down. He gave a plastic smile. “Good catch, Junya.”

Like it was a study session and his peer had noticed an error in an equation.

He took a steadying breath. “Now, Jun, I-I need you to call the police and have them waiting at the train station. I’m going to lead him there.”

That was a dangerous plan that used him as bait, and he was wounded now.

“Wait! Hide until we go. Then call. It’s important.” He gave Junya the address.

Junya crouched down behind some bushes and continued filming.

“ISHIDA!!!” came an angry roar.

And the performance was on.

Uryū gave a sharp grin as he set his hands around his mouth to amplify his shout: “Wow, you’re getting older and slower. Guess you really can’t keep up with me now!”

“Ishida!” Aso hissed, looking fundamentally deranged as he shuffled through the open gate. “…Ishida…”

There was so much foaming hatred there. Why on Earth had his son tried to deal with him on his own?

Uryū laughed loudly and meanly. “I can’t believe it! Golden opportunity and you still miss?!” He indicated the handle of the knife. “Trapezius, Asshole. The jugular’s over here. Guess the rumors are true. You’re a complete loser who can’t do anything, right! Not even murder,” Uryū sneered. 

He was pouring all the obnoxiousness he could into his demeanor to ensure he was chased.

“Ishida…”

“Just like I said back then. I see you. I see how you really are. And now?” Uryū tapped the tip of the knife’s handle as if this was exactly what he’d been hoping for. “Everyone else will see it, too! You’ll be ruined this time. I’ll make sure of it.”

He gave a sharp grin and started running. 

Aso was on his heels.

Junya made the call. And then after waiting awkwardly for a few beats, called for a taxi to take him to the station.

There were ambulances and patrol cars there.

The police were not amused at the sight of a camcorder. “Have some respect. Get that out of here.”

“No, you don’t understand I’m the one who call-”

“Everyone, get back. Turn that camera off. This area is off limits!”

Ichigo stared at the screen. “So, are we all going to be sitting in therapy with him after watching this? What the hell kind of bullshit plan was—?”

April 24, 2001

“Oh no, there’s more?!” Ichigo complained.

The next video showed two chairs and in them Junya’s unimpressed parents.

“I think we’ve indulged your hobby long enough.” Mr. Gomi tapped a remote against his leg.

“Turn the T.V. off,” Junya said.

Mr. Gomi’s face went stern. “You don’t give me orders, young man. Not when I pay the bills.”

“You don’t understand. I need to tell you first and then I can show you—”

“Are you worried about your grades because you didn’t get to study with Uryū?” Mrs. Gomi asked gently. “He’s allowed to prioritize himself. You all depend so heavily on him, I don’t think that’s fair to him.”

“I-I haven’t heard from Uryū since the day Aso—he—”

“Yes, I got the newsletter, Jun, and I told your father and we sent—”

“No, you-”

“Don’t interrupt your mother!” 

“Don’t understand. That monster—!”

“Just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean you should speak ill of the dead. He had a very difficult life-”

“Listen to your father—” 

“-Deserved worse. Damn coward took the easy way out-”

“Junya!” They were scandalized.

“No! Listen! I-I need to tell you about the other day!”

“I cannot believe you would act this way. So disrespectful—”

“Tonight a fire has broken out at the Karakura Lowlands’ Apartment Complex .”

“What?” Both adults turned their attention to the television.

“Oh how horrible. That’s a low-income area, too,” Mrs. Gomi tutted.

“Fire?” Junya mumbled, breathing hard. “But that’s where Ur-”

“Shh, Junya. We’re trying to listen.” Mr. Gomi turned the volume up.

“It is unclear what started the fire, but the intensity is concerning, suggesting particularly combustible chemicals. A thorough investigation will be performed after the situation is contained and resolved. More updates will be available as information. Please plan your routes accordingly, detours will be set up for the following streets—”

“That’s…” Junya zoomed in on the screen. At the flames.

The video abruptly segued to the real thing.

There was the loud crackling roar of an inferno.

“Whoa…” Junya took in the sight with his camcorder.

“Hey you! Get back!” A firefighter yelled. “It’s dangerous here!”

He scuttled away.

The camera panned to a crowd of tenants who’d been evacuated.

“Ishidaaaaa! Ishida! Uryū!” A voice called. “Uryū Ishida!”

“Towa?!” Junya called.

“Jun!” Towa sprinted over. “You saw in the news, too! Jun, I can’t find him. I can’t! And you know him! He has a sixth sense for this stuff. When someone’s looking for him, he shows up. He’s not showing up, Jun. Something's very wrong.”

“Maybe he’s not here? That has to be it. He’s probably being treated in the hospital.”

“In the hospital?! For what?! I thought he was just sick and that’s why he was absent?!”

“…Aso…Aso hurt him before he killed himself.”

Towa’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?! Did you go to the police?”

“Uryū was going to…after… I’m waiting because…He…he always knows what to do…”

“What the hell, Junya? Why wouldn’t you—damn it! So he might be laying in there, hurt? That’s what you’re telling me?! Damn it! That was over four days ago?!”

“I dunno…”

A fierce look of determination settled over Towa’s face. “He’s in there. He’s in there and he needs my help.”

“What?! No, Towa, you can’t! We have to tell one of the firefighters.”

“Then go tell them!” He turned on his heel and ran towards the back where there was another stairwell that hadn’t yet been engulfed, away from where the firefighters were focusing their efforts.”

Junya trailed behind until a firefighter noticed him and shouted at him to keep away.

He slowly shuffled back repeating “oh no” over and over.

And then there was movement and he zoomed in.

Towa was carrying someone.

[*Trigger Warning* Begins:]

“Oh no…”

Towa was in tears as he approached. “Jun, Jun, Jun get help. He’s really really hurt. He needs a paramedic, Jun? JUN!”

“Oh no…”

“Damn it.” Towa coughed hard. His brief trip inside had still gotten him dirty with smoke and soot. He carefully set Uryū down on the grass. He tried to catch his breath. “Jun! Get help!”

“Oh no.”

Even in the dark with the fire as the main source of lighting, the camera couldn’t hide what rough shape Uryū was in.

“Oh….”

Towa focused on Uryū. “Uryū?” He tapped his shoulder. “Uryū, can you hear me?” He was listening for breath when Uryū coughed harshly and gasped for breath. “Oh good, you’re alive. You’re alive. Damn it, Junya, why are you still here?! Get help!”

“No…”

Ryūken’s teeth clenched. Junya had frozen up. That was something that always weeded out the interns. Medical workers could not lose themselves in crises, not when their patients were depending on them.

“Fine. I will do it!” Towa stood back up. “I will get them. You watch him and make sure he doesn’t-doesn’t hurt himself worse, okay?”

Towa left at full speed calling for help.

Junya kept the camera on Uryū who was covered in blood.

There were several moments of dead space as Junya just stood there watching and then Uryū stirred.

He slowly sat up.

“Umm…Noo?” Junya tried.

The sound alerted Uryū that he wasn’t alone and he turned his head.

He wasn’t wearing his glasses but…

It became apparent that it was because they’d broken—a large shard of glass from one lens was sticking out from Uryū’s cheek—catching the glow of the fire in the backdrop.

Uryū slowly lifted a hand to the shard.

“Nonono,” Junya tried to dissuade him.

Uryū pulled it free and more blood spilled down.

“Ohhh,” Junya moaned, sounding afraid and disgusted.

Uryū dropped the shard to reach for Junya.

“No!” Junya screeched.

The hand drew back. Uryū’s expression looked hurt. His eyebrows drew together, puzzled. His eyes blinked asynchronously.

Then his mouth opened and blood poured, splattering messily down his front.

“Ah, geez.” Isshin shook his head.

“Poor Uryū,” Orihime murmured. Her hands twitched like she wanted to use her powers. 

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Junya made a brief gagging sound before recovering himself.

“…Wha’s…wrong?” Uryū asked. The words were slow and faltering but the tone of concern was genuine.

Ryūken’s hands clenched tightly. This was why he worried. Why Uryū couldn’t be a warrior. Why he wasn’t meant for the battlefield. 

That sort of boundless compassion…and lack of self-preservation…

It put a lump in his throat.

“Why…scared? I…don’t…sense…” 

Hollows…monsters…human or spiritual…

He moved awkwardly, limbs jerking and twitching, as he tried to position himself so he could crawl closer to his friend.

[*Trigger Warning* Ends:]

“Do not move!” Junya commanded.

Uryū looked startled at the tone.

“Idiot, be nice to him. He’s hurt and confused,” Ichigo growled. “But he’s still him.”

“Just…just hold on. Hold on. Don’t move. Don’t…anything,” Junya said.

“…Scared?” His voice was slurred.

“Yes! Yes, I am!” Junya replied a little hysterically.

An unhappy epiphany came. “…Me?”

“No.”

“Li…ar.”

Junya took a couple harsh breaths and then seemed to snap out of the shock. “Uryū? Who did this to you? This wasn’t all Aso. Tell me and I’ll tell the police.” It sounded like a mixture of accountability and a desperate desire for a mission that would take him away. He didn’t want to be there... with Uryū… like that. 

“…”

“Don’t tell me this is a small thing. It’s not!” Junya snapped.

Another wave of anger rolled over Ryūken. Being shouted at was the last thing his son needed.

“I…feel bad.” 

“I know, but you’re going to go to the hospital and they’ll make you better and we’ll get the bad guys and-!”

“You’re…holding it so…steady but…but… I don’t wanna play anymore.” 

“What?”

Uryū looked at the camera dead on. 

“You promised…You said…any time… I’m uncomfortable now.” His voice broke and a tear fell.

“Uryū…”

“No more.” He reached towards the camera and there was a click of a viewing panel being shut.

“That’s when the disc got its resident poltergeist. Uryū suffered the soul injury right before this,” Urahara deduced.

His fingers moved to the lens, smearing it in red. “…No more… please?”

Junya scrambled to put the camera’s cap on.

The screen went black.

“Help…save face?”

“…Of course.” Junya’s voice was soft and miserable. “It’s… your story. You decide how it’s told.”

Chapter Text

Ryūken continued staring as the screen went dark.

That was it.

That was the end.

The video ended like that.

With Uryū a bleeding mess.

Left like that. 

In danger.

No closure.

And to his fellow middle schoolers, he just disappeared. Months were allowed to pass like that. And no one bothered to contact the ever absent Dr. Ishida, if only to rage at him for his ignorance and neglect of his son. 

“And Junya went back and edited everything,” Orihime remarked softly.

Yes. He went back and removed Aso and various other traces of turmoil. But not enough to stamp out all of the toxicity of their school years.

“You think Junya had this video all planned until the news broke about the apartment?” Isshin wondered.

“Yeah,” Yasutora agreed. “Then he just kept recording until…that happened.”

“And then he buried it,” Isshin murmured.

“We’re lucky he was an amateur at covering his tracks,” Urahara said. “If he’d really intended to keep his word, he’d have destroyed all the evidence. He was probably hoping young Ishida would change his mind and come forward.”

But he didn’t.

Which was very alarming.

Someone who was obsessed about justice decided to let this go.

There was more to it than danger. Uryū was used to danger. Even if he was worried about his peers, he was used to high stakes.

There had to be more to it.

“I can’t believe he didn’t report this. I mean, Uryū was obviously not thinking straight. How could he make a promise then?” Ichigo insisted. “How could Gomi agree?”

“I’m impressed young Ishida could negotiate at all,” Urahara said. “That he could recall enough to extract the vow. And that he remembers the vow even now and was holding young Gomi to it. I will have to be careful if I ever make a deal with him.”

“Why wasn’t Uncle Ryūken informed by the hospital that Uryū was hurt? Uncle? What happened?” Ichigo demanded. “Why didn’t you know? I thought you kept tabs on him?”

He didn’t know… because…he was an idiot. All issues in his son’s life were assumed to stem from being a Quincy. He was asking himself over and over. How he had missed it all?

Would Kanae have missed it? If she were in his place?

Would her grief over losing her spouse have clouded her judgement so much she—?

“Uncle?”

He stared blankly, his fingers were touching the screen. He couldn’t even remember when he reached out. Maybe it was on seeing Uryū…pull shards of glass out of his face?

That he wanted to stop him. Somehow.

It made it all worse.

Given the severity of the injuries, he’d assumed the boy had passed in and out of consciousness, but he was wrong.

He had still been conscious.

Unable to stand but conscious.

Unable to advocate for himself or be reasonable but still conscious.

Which meant he had still been in some state of consciousness when he was loaded into the stranger’s car headed for Nagano—completely helpless to get himself out of the situation.

His stomach flopped.

That kept happening.

Uryū found himself in situations that kept escalating and didn’t know how to get out.

Ultimatums and vows…

He wasn’t sure how to compromise or stand down or turn back.

In their relationship, he pushed boundaries until he felt he couldn’t return.

It was in the risks he took… winding up in Yhwach’s ranks… prepared to pay the ultimate cost.

He and Kanae and the lessons they had taught their young child were all about following through.

Honor and commitment and effort…

Had they never covered wrong paths? How to recognize and adjust or return or recover from an error in judgment? How to admit fault or uncertainty and request guidance for a situation that was escalating?

“Uncle? Are you alright?”

His head swam. 

Isshin spoke more on his behalf.

He tuned in and out of the conversation. 

Uryū’s spirit energy suggested he was still sleeping. Still in the family wing. He needed to be put to bed. 

He didn’t want to wake him while there was still company.

Didn’t want the others to follow him upstairs and bother his child.

His Ryū needed his rest.

They would upset him. He didn’t sleep or eat well when he was upset. This had to be handled with tact.

Kurosakis struggled with that as a rule.

“Nagano Prefecture?” The teens were shocked. “That’s hours away! He needed help immediately-”

Yes. Because the landlady was trying to cover it all up. 

She’d had a minor tenant who was living there illegally and who’d been badly beaten, possibly by other tenants. Possibly hired.

She didn’t want cops. Authorities. There were already too many there that night. 

A dead tenant would be easier to deal with.

He choked on the thought.

“Dr. Ishida?”

“Uncle?”

Only…he’d survived. And come back. Why would he go back? To that awful place?

He frowned.

The whole situation was messy. 

Even this past June, she should have needed a judge involved to properly evict his son and discard his belongings.

Uryū should’ve been taken to court. Only that would have revealed his age and put her under investigation.

She just wanted him out of her hair. 

There was messiness there. Lots of bad actors. Bad adults.

Who could see his Uryū being harassed and hurt and remain bystanders.

His thirteen-year-old fighting for his life while knowing there were people nearby who could help him and didn’t.

Ryūken would never forgive them. Never. His vengeance was going to be thorough and exacting.

The only potential obstacle was his son.

Rather than blaming them for their cowardice and apathy, Uryū blamed himself.

At fifteen, he reasoned it was because he had a bad reputation. He caused trouble. He had forfeited any expectations of aid. 

Though, maybe Uryū felt differently after his final altercation with Aso?

Had adults as a whole taken the brunt of one too many bad actors?

Because they never seemed to help him much?

They were ineffectual…even when they meant him well?

It was frustrating. He needed to challenge that mindset.

Prove himself. 

Avenge his child.

Could Uryū accept that Ryūken needed to do this? As a father, as a man, he needed it resolved for any chance of closure. Or this fury would eat through him like acid.

His mind kept buzzing. He was furious with Junya Gomi who had all of this evidence and never came forward.

How could he not come forward? To hell with that promise.

In his mind’s eye, he saw Uryū feebly trying to make sense of his surroundings.

He saw the blood that had collected in the stomach after being swallowed, following trauma to the face, being promptly expelled once Uryū was sitting upright. To relieve nausea. That had been the body trying to help itself.

And Junya had reacted with disgust.

Repulsed by a body that was in desperate need of care and fighting to stay alive.

The eyelid of Ryūken’s right eye began twitching as it did whenever he was under great stress and no sleep.

He was so angry.

“Kay…so…I’m gonna slip this copy in with the other confiscated materials when I do the pickup on Thursday,” Urahara told him.

He blinked, caught off guard. “…”

“Here’s the original.” He offered it very carefully with two hands.

Ryūken accepted the disc gently and slipped it into the breast pocket of his shirt.

He held his hand against it—the warmth there.

The poltergeist’s energy pulsed showing it was present but…settled. He had accomplished his goal: Tell Dad.

Good boy.

Isshin clapped his hands together. “Kids, let’s head back. Ryūken’s got a lot to deal with here.”

“…”

That didn’t begin to cover it. 

He didn’t bother seeing them off. Not with his mind…like this…

Isshin texted him and his phone vibrated.

Isshin: Do you want me to come back? Are you still standing there?

He glared at the message a long time before replying: No.

Somehow two hours had passed since they all left. The equipment was gone. There were just piles of plates on a serving cart. 

The remnants of the séance had been returned to their proper places. He hadn’t even noticed his guests taking the awards and medals back to the family library.

It was a strange feeling walking out of the parlor and up the stairs. He locked the entrance to the family wing behind him for added security. He went to his office.

The lights were on timers and had already dimmed because of the late hour.

But he knew this house. Too well.

It was a dissociative state of being that he’d endured a handful of times; when he failed to keep Masaki safe, the Auswählen, the day Kanae died.

Walking through the house knowing his wife would never walk beside him again. That he’d never hear her soft footfalls. Her light touch on his arm. Or feel their fingers interlocking.

His consolation was their child’s hurried footsteps and half-hummed songs and the non sequitur facts he murmured when he was pacing around trying to memorize information for tests.

If that man had succeeded—

His breath hitched and he shook his head.

If silence had descended on the House of Ishida, its youngest member viciously—

No. He couldn’t think of that right now.

He entered his office and went to the filing cabinet he kept in the closet.

He typed its password and unlocked it.

Because he kept records.

He was diligent that way. Always ready for the danger of lawsuits.

He’d been needed for a specialty procedure in Aomori Prefecture. The hospital there had been in dire straits (one of their cardiac surgeons was out on maternity leave while the other had died suddenly of a rapid onset infection). It was good to have other hospitals owe favors.

Good business.

Bad parenting.

He sat down and opened a small pocket-sized black book he kept to note calls.

Because he already knew that Uryū had called him that day in 1999 after Aso made his first attempt on his life.

He looked down at his handwriting

6:15 pm - Uryū called. Upset about fight at school. After hours. Lost glasses. Waiting for school to call about another suspension.

The school never followed up and neither did he.

This small footnote. It confirmed everything while saying nothing.

Uryū had been upset. He remembered commenting on that because his child was usually more belligerent than anything else following a scuffle.

“Are you hurt? Or are you just scared?” Ryūken asked in exasperation, checking his watch. He needed to get back in the O.R.

A receptionist had flagged him down, nervous because his son was on the phone and half-hysterical.

He’d felt a muscle tic in his jaw expecting the call to be about Hollows. Little idiot, had he learned nothing from that fall?

Instead—

“…I…don’t know.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand and fought a wave of concern for his son, his mind focusing on someone kilometers away, that could be deadly for his patient in the O.R. He could not be distracted.

“Uryū, focus. Is there a significant injury? Are you bleeding or just bruised?”

“I’m not… bleeding. Well, my hands are scraped up, but I just…I…it was… scary, Dad. It was…I-I lost my glasses. I’m sorry—”

Ryūken sighed. “You know there are replacements in the second drawer.”

“Yeah, but-but Dad, can’t you-”

“Can’t I what?”

There was a pause. His breath hitched. “Can’t you come home… pleeease? I-I need you—”

“No, Uryū. I told you all of this week that I would be out on these days. This is important. You were doing well not getting into fights. What happened?” Ryūken had hoped they were turning a corner. That Uryū was going to mind himself better.

There was a hard sniffle. “It just—really fast. Suddenly. I-I didn’t start it, I swear! I just asked a question and I didn’t know he—”

“This is why you don’t go around picking fights, Uryū. You get a reputation for it and things like this happen. There’s always someone stronger. Maybe a little fear will teach you to be smarter about these things?”

“THAT’S NOT FAIR!” 

Ryūken winced as the volume made his ears ring. Izumi’s grandson had inherited her explosive temper and could be just as exhausting.

The boy sniveled. “You’re not being fair. It’s not f-fair—why can’t you just list—?”

“What’s not fair is you calling me like this. You can’t expect me to drop everything for you because you made a poor decision.”

“…”

“Uryū? Are you listening to me?”

“…Yeah.” 

“You say, ‘yes, sir,’” he corrected coldly. He was done indulging his son’s attitude. He’d been patient long enough. It was time for him to grow up and fall in line.

“…Yes…sir,” the young voice on the line hardened. 

“Now, you listen to me. You are only supposed to call me if there’s an emergency.”

“…”

“Did you hear me?”

“...You never listen to me. You don’t care.”

He rolled his eyes. “So dramatic. If you’re really hurt or worried, have Juri drive you to the hospital.”

There was muttering he couldn’t make out but the tone wasn’t flattering.

“Uryū?”

“What, sir?” was growled into the phone.

So rude. 

“Mind the household staff and don’t call again unless there’s a situation. I need to go now—”

There was a harsh hang up from the other side before he could even finish.

He returned in the middle of the next week, a few developments had necessitated him staying longer.

His son glanced up from his plate as he entered the dining room.

Ryūken had smirked and declared, “Look who’s still alive?”

He swore hard, head in his hands, remembering the long, hard unblinking stare he’d received for that.

Damn it.

And then there was quiet. 

He’d been so busy getting things caught back up at work since that trip, his son’s birthday had almost caught him by surprise.

Usually, his son had something he wanted that he would pester him or Juri about.

Nothing.

No calls from the school.

No more slamming doors.

He steadily got quieter and quieter.

More and more withdrawn until Ryūken was the one checking in on him after an evening shift, catching him up too late at night studying and telling him to go to bed.

He remembered getting the school portraits for his son’s final year, opening the packet and noting immediately—

“You didn’t smile.”

His son looked up from where he was curled up at his end of the couch doing needlework.

“Uryū?” He went through the photos. 

None. Not one. Not a single smile.

“No, I suppose I didn’t.”

“You should have smiled.” It would be the first school year photo where there wasn’t even an attempt to look pleasant. “How am I supposed to frame this?”

There was a shrug. “…You don’t have to then. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“This is very inconvenient. I’ll have to schedule a reshoot for you.”

He had planned to, but forgot.

“Please don’t. I’m too tired for all of that.”

Tired, Ryūken realized. That word had already entered as a warning sign.

“You’re a student. What could you be tired from?” he scoffed.

“It just…all seems fake.”

“Well, sometimes we have to make the best of our circumstances. Someday, when you’re working, you’ll need to be pleasant even when you’re not feeling up to it.”

“Yes, sir. Can I go to bed now?”

He blinked, taken aback. “It’s very early.” He’d managed to leave the hospital on time and had hoped to spend more of the evening with him.

He had been about to suggest a board game.

“Are you not feeling well?” He checked his temperature. “Is your hypotension bothering you?”

“I’m just tired,” Uryū repeated.

He followed him to his room and watched him release the tension on the embroidery hoop before setting the craft on his desk.

Uryū glanced over his shoulder. “Yes…Dad? Do you need something?”

Not rude. But unsmiling.

Had he pushed himself too hard at school? Perhaps he should write a note excusing him from P.E. classes? Broken bones could take up to a year to fully heal. He was probably still recovering. His stamina may have been impacted.

“Get into bed. I’ll fetch the thermometer. Just in case.”

He got up, paced, went into the corridor and braced his hands against the wall.

Damn it.

He already knew he’d been out of the country during the other altercation.

He kept remembering the doodles. 

Rain Dragon all alone and unsafe—Hyper-aware that dragon hunters could hurt him and Sky Dragon seemed absent and apathetic.

That disc.

Those final segments…

It was crafty filmmaking on Junya’s part showing how confident and charismatic Uryū had been in his final year before Aso returned to wreak havoc.

How resilient, considering the previous attack…

That anyone who met Uryū now could tell something had been taken from him following these events.

Damn it.

It made him feel sick. 

Ransōtengai pushed to its limits.

Eyes blinking at different times. Limbs trying and failing to move correctly.

The simplistic, childish phrasing which was at odds with the formidable vocabulary his son possessed. And yet it was still proof of his high intellect because anyone else would’ve been incapable of speech by that point.

Uryū just sounded like a young child that was upset. 

Not like a patient on the brink of imminent death.

“Damn it,” his breath hitched.

Ryūken went out into the dim hall and rested his forehead against the wall. Maybe he was trying to avoid looking at the family’s oil paintings, the stern gazes of his progenitors?

He’d grown up feeling watched. Now, he felt judged.

He wondered if it was pure disdain or derisive amusement they felt on watching their descendent continually fail in his duties despite all the effort that had been put into him by his parents and tutors.

From the darkness, there were slow shuffling footsteps approaching.

Uryū blearily acknowledged him with a soft, “Hey Dad.” 

“…”

He leaned against him in a brief gesture of affection before attempting to amble off. “‘Night.”

Ryūken turned and caught him, pulling him close.

“Dad?”

“…” He nestled his hand in that dark hair hunting for any dips or scars on the scalp that signaled past injury. 

Though, shouldn’t the MRI have caught lingering injuries? 

“Dad, are you okay?” Was mumbled into his shoulder.

“…” With his other hand he was checking the set of his son’s shoulders and spine for any irregularities.

Or had Yhwach healed him? Had his actions been genuine? Proving he wasn’t all talk?

He looked down and frowned.

Uryū was barefoot. He’d had socks and slippers earlier. He must’ve kicked them off when he was sleeping on the couch.

“You’re going to catch a cold,” he murmured. 

Careless child. He was always worrying him.

He got himself into trouble constantly.

He had no common sense. 

He was—

“Your spirit ribbon feels sad. Are you missing Mom?” 

Yes. Always. He was always… If she’d been here, maybe none of this…? 

Fingers tentatively plucked at the back of his shirt in a careful embrace. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

Damn it. His eyes stung.

How am I going to protect you when you’re always prioritizing others?

He cradled the back of his son’s head. “No. No, that’s not it. I…” Uryū was so calm right now. Did he really want to spoil his peace of mind? “…It’s alright. You don’t need to worry about anything. I’m here.” 

That was the correct answer.

For now.

Uryū gradually leaned more and more of his weight against him as exhaustion overtook him.

His breathing was starting to even out.

“Uryū?”

“Mhmm?”

It was risky to ask but—

“Was it a wooden doorstop you used?” The porous nature of wood could mean more bacteria and a greater risk of infection—resulting in the loss of that eye.

“Hmm?”

“On Aso?”

“…Shhh.” 

“Uryū?”

“Hmm?” He leaned back and peered up at him, looking tired and worried.

Silly thing. “I’m proud of you.” 

The child smiled, relaxed, and rested against him again.

“Very proud,” Ryūken repeated.

Because that move had saved his life. Because that action was just desserts. Because he hadn’t said this enough. Because life was fragile and fleeting. Because Uryū dying in scenarios like these instead of the grandiose ones that Ryūken had spent the last nine years guarding against would be the ultimate answer to his hubris.

If he’d returned from a mundane business trip to find a crime scene…

To the aftermath of his gentle child who wanted to help everyone, even spirits, being brutally beaten to death…

Murdered at the hands of ordinary humans…

His faith in everything…

He held him tightly and pressed his face against the dark hair.

Maybe the Soul King was merciful after all?

Maybe, sometimes, mercy was when you didn’t get what you deserved? 

With his very alive child in his arms and the now tranquil soul fragment against his heart, he could feel himself finding some kind of tenuous balance.

He would find a way to fix this. He had to. He had to believe he was capable.

The soul fragment warmed.

His son babbled again, “I couldn’t defeat him but I fought him off.”

“…Yes.” Ryūken nodded. 

“Both times. Both times, Dad, I-he was strong. And Grandpa says we’re not supposed to use our powers against ordinary humans. It was hard.” 

“You misunderstood Grandpa. He only meant children. He only meant for you to not abuse your power. He would want you to defend yourself. If you’re ever in danger like that again, you have my permission to do whatever you need to. Do you understand? Dad has given you permission.”

Uryū nodded and then pouted. “You wouldn’t have needed to though, would you? When you were my age, you probably could’ve won, huh? Even… even without your powers.”

Yes. He’d been instructed in the arts of war since he could stand and hold a bow.

“But I didn’t have practice fighting grownups yet. I fought kids who were older and bigger. But it wasn’t the same.” He got a haunted look. “I-I…got scared but—” 

“You were very brave and you kept your head and you kept thinking through all of it until you found your way out.” 

A miracle.

“You’re disappointed.” His expression fell. “I knew you’d be—” 

“No,” he refuted in surprise. “Why are you saying that?”

“Because I’m just ‘brave’ to you,” he complained. “You never say ‘skilled.’ You never say ‘strong’ or that I did ‘well’ at-”

“You’re a good boy. A smart boy.” A survivor. A scholar. A kind friend. He would grow into a good man…into a pillar of his community if given the chance. Not a warrior. That was alright. He was already everything he needed to be. More than his father had hoped for. “You’re my rain dragon.”

Ryūken was the warrior between the two of them. Ryūken was the one who’d failed. Who failed and kept failing.

He hadn’t protected Masaki—she shouldn’t have needed her reiatsu tainted to escape a loveless, arranged marriage. He should’ve intervened in her battle and then told his parents he wouldn’t go through with something that would only make them both miserable. Then, she would’ve survived the Auswählen. 

Though, there was part of him that worried that if she hadn’t been selected who would’ve been taken instead? His cousin wouldn’t have forgiven him if a timely rescue of her meant Yhwach chose her children.

Because he was a monster who’d prey on children.

He couldn’t protect Kanae from anything. From love. From honor. From sacrifice. Could only avenge her.

And he didn’t protect Uryū. 

And he couldn’t avenge him to the extent that he wanted to.

All he could do was pick up pieces and try to help him heal.

He had made a judgment call and chosen not to protect Masaki for the sake of her warrior’s spirit. 

He had been unable to protect Kanae from cruel forces they should’ve never had to endure. And from which she was too honorable to turn away and he loved her more for it. Because a part of him knows how unwinnable it was…that if she’d had the power to save their child and chose not to…

And here…he could have protected Uryū from this…all of this… but was absent and unknowing. 

Pride.

Weakness.

Neglect.

The shame was crushing.

“Daaad?” he grumbled.

Still alive.

“Come now, my rain dragon, you need to go to bed.”

This was what he could do right now. 

Uryū was tired enough that he let himself be tucked in. 

And Ryūken was exhausted enough that he just laid down beside him on top of the covers—without even removing his shoes—if any threat presented itself, he’d be there. 

Ryūken couldn’t stay asleep. He kept jolting back awake as his mind buzzed with vivid, horrifying images of what he’d seen. He glanced around his son’s room to try and ground himself. Between the awkwardness of estrangement and respecting tenets of teenage privacy, he hadn’t felt welcome enough to take a good look at the room after the furniture had been changed out or when the room was reassembled following the cleaning.

A teen-sized study desk and chair were arranged neatly. Uryū had set a hook on the wall near it to hold his messenger bag.

There was a corkboard with sewing designs pinned to it. There was a dry erase board. A magnet was holding his class schedule there.

Some things were still familiar.

The three photographs from his son’s apartment were on his dresser in better frames.

There was an old plush dragon tucked half-hidden on a bottom shelf of the desk; A toy Ryūken had won for Kanae that they’d ended up giving their child later. 

There was a sleeker poster of the solar system and some star charts.

There were two stacks of books. The first had books on biology, chemistry, physiology, psychology, origami, and watercolor painting.

The second contained test prep books from the library. He vaguely remembered checking them out for his son the other day. He hadn’t had a chance to look at the subject areas. The receipt hadn’t been left to him as it should have been and he hadn’t had the time to look at his account online.

He squinted to read the titles and then exhaled in surprise.

If his son took his university entrance exams in those areas and did well, he could go into medical school.

Had he changed his mind? Or rather…returned his mind…to…? 

Perhaps he should ask a few subtle questions?

It was probably exploitative to question a sleep talker but…

 “Uryū?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you studying to enter medical school?” 

Idiot. He was too tired and just asked him directly.

“I wanna…prove I could,” Uryū mumbled.

The camcorder disc in his pocket gave a pulse of warmth.

“Oh?”

“Hmm.”

That was a not a ‘no.’

He needed good news—felt desperate for it.

“Do you want to be a doctor?” he asked gently.

“No.”

Damn.

“But younger me did,” Uryū murmured.

“Yes, you did. Very much.”

And it had been Ryūken’s hope that he’d use that dream to save his son from their family’s Quincy legacy.

“Younger me wanted me… to be…like you…but…”

“A doctor? Or a surgeon? Or work in a hospital?”

“…Yeah?”

He had asked too many questions in rapid succession.

“You will be very good. Whatever job you choose. I know it.”

“Yeah.”

Ryūken felt hope spark.

His son was thinking, at least abstractly, about the future.

A career.

That was good. That was very good. He could focus on the future while they…helped him wrap up the loose ends of the past.

“I would gladly help you, Ryū. With studying for the exams. With paying for medical school. Learning how to navigate it all can be tricky. You have to have support. I didn’t have my parents’ support. I had your mom. But you will have me. There can be a lot of pressure, but you have talent for this. You will just need support.”

That Uryū could survive everything he had and not give up…

Even if his son was still a bit listless and adrift, his childhood dream wasn’t out of reach or out of thought. He just needed support. He’d have it. And then he could hold on and achieve it.

Ryūken looked around the room again. This was his elementary schooler, his middle schooler, his high schooler’s room. It wasn’t that different after all.

Though…he squinted again.

There was a strange construction that looked like a hat rack with some wire that was acting as a makeshift sewing mannequin. He must’ve been using that to help make his vampire costume. It would’ve looked especially malevolent if it had been modeling the cloak that was hanging from the closet’s hook nearby.

It was creepy. It had to go.

“I can buy you a sewing mannequin,” he announced.

Because having a hobby, an outlet, helped with studying, too. Kanae would insist he join her for outings to break the monotony. And later on, he made a point of taking breaks to bond with a young Uryū.

“Mmmkay.”

“Everything would be so much easier if you just told me what you needed whenever you needed it. I’m not good at guessing.” It was easier when his son was a baby and there were only so many possibilities for what he needed.

“Mmmkay.”

“I want things to be better.”

“S’okay. I’m feeling better now,” Uryū yawned. “I think I was just tired.”

He misheard him. Before he could repeat himself or clarify—

“Sorry I didn’t come with you to speak with Towa. Or stay…downstairs and help host.” His eyebrows were together.

So he had been worried about that.

It was hard to say what Ryūken would’ve done if he’d been there beside him as they learned what had happened.

There was also the fact that Uryū had done everything he could to hide it.

Supposedly out of fear that those around him would be similarly targeted but…

It didn’t make much sense.

It fit more with his character that he was under the ridiculous notion that he’d been dishonored somehow in the mad whirl of chaos. And silence was the best way for him to—

“Help … save face…”

Foolish thing.

Chapter Text

The more Ryūken reflected, the more he thought:

That was a cruel thing to ask for.

The phrasing…

The timing…

A bit too convenient.

Yes, his son had been horribly injured and was not thinking in a healthy manner. And some of that plea might’ve been genuine insecurity and vulnerability bleeding through. But he knew how to use it. Reasoned that his pain and weakness would manipulate Junya into doing whatever he wanted. Even the memory of it.

And there was something ruthless in that.

Something his gentle child shouldn’t have been capable of.

Something Yhwach would have approved of.

Junya didn’t have the spine to defy Uryū. 

And from what Ryūken had seen on the videos and some of the interactions he’d witnessed, Uryū knew that. He was used to strong-arming Junya. Giving the other boy commands and making him obey or belittling him or guilting him when he tried to resist or expressed discomfort.

He did that with Ichigo, too. Ichigo sometimes capitulated and sometimes didn’t.

He saw an unflattering parallel between how he was acting and the way Ryūken had been in his youth— ordering around others who he saw as beneath him.

Only where Ryūken had used Quincy blood quantum to fuel his superior attitude, Uryū was using intelligence as the measuring stick and his justification for employing manipulative behavior.

He needed to help his son correct this and quickly.

It was unbecoming of him.

Even if it was understandable why this bad habit has developed.

He was a genius who’d grown too used to being several steps ahead.

Always smarter.

He hadn’t been properly challenged by his peers in years.

Conversations with his parents and grandfather had kept him engaged. They dared to question his logic and make him explain himself. He respected them enough to do so. 

It kept him in check.

His respect…

His sense of respect for others had flagged considerably following the deaths of Kanae and Sōken.

His compassion remained constant. But if he thought he was acting in the best interest of others because they were too stupid? Selfish? To do so? 

That was very arrogant.

The other “friends” or was the middle school analogy right? Vassals? They all fell into line. 

They accepted that Uryū generally knew more. And they assumed that granted him leave to be condescending.

Interesting. 

Junya was the one who was more argumentative and got more of Uryū’s ire, despite not being able to really act against him.

But it was actually Towa who was, paradoxically, the most loyal and the most rebellious. He’d defy Uryū’s wishes to better serve his wellbeing.

Ryūken would need to bring Uryū to shadow him at the hospital. 

Show him that he could not treat subordinates that way.

Often, it was a nurse or an assistant who brought important details to light through their resistance to an order. Doctors could make mistakes, especially inexperienced ones. More scrutiny on a questionable order could save lives. 

Still, Ryūken had to be patient and careful. This was a delicate procedure.

He had commented before that he had lost all of his child’s respect…

Between that autopsy, his relationship with Sōken, clashes in temper, neglect, misunderstandings, and not saving him from Aso…

Useless.

Lazy.

Coward.

Those were the insults his tween had chosen for him…according to how Ryūken had failed him. 

He had to start from there and redeem himself.

While daunting, it didn’t seem impossible.

Despite everything, the soul fragment had given him a chance for redemption.

Which meant Uryū didn’t like saying those things about him anymore than Ryūken liked hearing them.

“It’s alright,” Ryūken repeated once more.

“Mhmm. I think a little more rest and I’ll be okay,” Uryū assured tiredly, resting his head on Ryūken’s shoulder.

Ryūken sighed.

Because rest was never going to be enough to alleviate everything that had happened.

A lot more needed to be done for healing and closure, but this was testament to Uryū’s courage and resilience—where his determination dragged him onward. Not optimism.

Abruptly, he heard Sōken instructing him—

“Ransōtengai is a formidable technique. It requires the most adept of reishi control to be effective. I say technique because it is not like ginto spells or arrow manifestations. It is an unfair affinity. Few are able to manifest it. Of those few, different people will have different thresholds for how well they can incorporate it into their arsenal of abilities.”

“Our family can use it,” a thirteen-year-old Ryūken had noted smugly.

“I can use it. And you have some fledgling ability yourself that you will be able to improve. But I’m speaking of mastery. Very few Quincies truly master it, Ryuu. 

Usually, it’s a last resort to turn the tide of a battle. Or to hold off the enemy as the rest of your people escape. Brief spans of control to stave off the effects of a fatal injury. As you’ve seen for yourself, it is more taxing by far than blut.”

Ryūken released a frustrated breath through his nose.

“It requires constant focus. Lasting concentration lest the strings slacken. And you would be concentrating on the strings while actively fighting an enemy. It is intended to allow Quincies to continue their battles until they turn to dust.”

“Yes, I’ve heard this before, Father.”

“Those Quincies would theoretically be performing Ransōtengai for years. Which is why I believe some minds have a more natural affinity for it.”

“You make it sound like a talent.”

“Yes, I suppose that is the best way to think of it. You or I could play a piano with instruction and practice. Maybe with dedication there would be those who would call us virtuosos?”

Ryūken perked up at this, liking the idea of being special at something besides archery.

“We would not be prodigies, Ryuu. Artists who could take it to new realms. We have to be taught. They need only explore.”

“I’m always okay,” his son murmured.

Which was a boldfaced lie.

Ryūken had the impression then of ransōtengai being applied to someone’s inner self—pressing them on until they turned to dust.

Uryū’s eyelids lowered but he managed a smile and his tone wasn’t even resentful as he moved away to let Ryūken go. “So… so you can go to work now. I’m smart; I’ll figure the rest out on my own.”

“No.”

“Hmm?”

“No, I’m not going anywhere. Not while you’re in trouble. We’ll figure it all out together.”

He braced himself for an argument. That Uryū would rouse himself because that would be the way to end things—a vicious end to a horrible day.

“Oh. Okay.” He turned on his side, facing him. “G’night, Dad.” 

Ryūken blinked. “Goodnight, Son.”

And he was reminded again that for all of his brilliance, Uryū was still a child. There were going to be certain offbeat reactions because his brain wasn’t fully developed and there would be gaps in logic.

Right now he was tired. And while he was probably scared and uncertain and stressed, Dad had just said he’d help and protect him—He could go to sleep now.

Ryūken tucked the blanket around him, trying not to feel too flattered.

But it was a relief to know, despite everything…deep down, Uryū still trusted him and in a very simple, instinctive way that he prayed Yhwach would never be granted.

Uryū blinked.

Dad was being even weirder than usual, acting like Uryū was an elementary schooler again.

He’d woken to his dad snoring lightly at around 3 am.

Ryūken looked like shit.

His suit was rumpled, his hair was greasy, and his glasses were askew.

His face looked haggard and now and then he’d grind his teeth as his expression darkened.

So, he wasn’t dreaming too peacefully.

Worried that the frames could warp or snap, he tried to remove them and got his wrist grabbed.

It was one of those moments where he had to acknowledge that Ryūken was strong.

Stronger than him.

He could probably break his wrist without blut. And yet the hold wasn’t bruising, there was still a lot of control in it. It was just wary.

“Sorry. S’me, Dad,” he whispered. “Your glasses frames are bending. Don’t you want them off to be more comfortable?”

His father released him, took his glasses off himself, reached over him to set them down on the side table, shrugged out of his jacket and laid it over Uryū like he needed the extra layer.

Though, when he’d been small he’d insisted that doctor coats were magical, all of them, even ones that weren’t for the hospital and that they could keep him safe and healthy. And Ryūken had played along. Back then.

He was such a stupid kid.

A heavy arm draped over him and he was gruffly ordered to go back to sleep.

Dad was usually grumpy when he was woken abruptly.

Which was why Mom had always warned not to disturb him: Let sleeping dragons lie.

And they’d giggle and tiptoe away.

Though, why Dad was in here at all was a mystery.

Oh…right. He’d seen Aso being a jerk with his cigarette. 

Honestly, compared to being choked or strangled by the creep, it wasn’t that big a deal. He’d kind of forgotten about it. 

But Dad had probably taken it hard because he didn’t like the idea of authority figures abusing their power.

Maybe he was a good hospital director after all? If the idea of that was this upsetting?

Uryū yawned and stretched and settled—At least his dad and, by extension, his dad’s coat didn’t smell like an ashtray. Or else he’d never get to sleep peacefully.

Even though they’d smoked different brands, there was often that moment of fear when he’d whiff smoke as a kid and his imagination would rise. There’d be the crushing, paranoid dread that somehow Aso had made it into their house.

He rolled to one side.

Which was a stupid but terrifying thought when he’d been a middle schooler. 

He rolled to the other side.

But—

“Go. To. Sleep,” he was told firmly again.

“I’m thinking.”

“Sleep now. Think later.”

He had a sudden urge to tell him about the smoking. And it was too late at night for him to think better of it. 

He rambled.

His dad was very quiet.

“I know it’s dumb. Different brands. Plus, the staff wouldn’t have just let him in. But…it was scary. The estate only keeps out Hollows. He was a homeroom teacher, they’re encouraged to do home visits. The idea he could just show up? It was terrifying.”

“You had every reason to fear him. He meant you harm and acted on that impulse. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you from him. I should have.”

That wasn’t…

“I don’t blame you.”

“You don’t need to. I blame me. Go to sleep. You will be safe.”

Yeesh. Scary tone. Good luck to any burglars who dared to break in this night.

Still, it was a nice gesture.

And it made relaxing easier. Aso wasn’t going to hurt him again.

He knew that already but…

It was nice. Almost like being little again when he believed his family and this ancestral house was all he needed to be safe. 

Ryūken’s moods were hard to predict. Displays of tenderness were usually haphazard, often giving way to particularly frigid and harsh episodes afterwards. Or total absence, where he went to work and didn’t come back for days.

So, it was a bit of a shock when Ryūken fussed over him all morning—making sure that he ate his breakfast, that the collar of his shirt lay flat, that he was wearing enough layers for the dropping temperature, that the passenger’s safety belt wasn’t twisted as it locked into place.

He currently had his hands on Uryū’s shoulders. “You’re going to stay with Tessai. You have your bento and your art supplies and some comic books. I’ll be back by the afternoon. Four at the latest.” His hair was ruffled and then smoothed. “Be good for Dad, okay?”

Freaking weird—this streak of unfaltering care had to be a record. Since the police station, right?

Was it three or four days?

“…Kay.”

“Think about what you want for dinner. You can have anything.”

May as well lean into the role.

“Ice cream,” Uryū deadpanned.

“If that’s… what you want,” Ryūken shrugged. “It’s one night…” His expression faltered. “But it’s kind of chilly for that. It could stress your immune system and you might catch a cold. You have that Halloween festival as Student President coming up. You don’t want to get sick before that…the festival will have portable heaters, right? So you don’t get pneumonia?”

He really wanted to double down on ice cream just to be contrary but it seemed like this was really bothering his dad.

Every little thing was making him worry today.

“Udon with fish cakes and tofu?” he tried.

His father’s expression lightened. “Yes, that’s a good choice. I’ll tell Juri.”

He blinked. “Dad, are you okay?”

There was a frenetic sort of energy in his spirit ribbon that he wasn’t used to.

“Yes, of course, there are just… things I need to do. And while I go do them, you need to stay safe. Do fun things. But don’t exhaust yourself. No homework today. Promise.”

He blinked. So weird. “I promise?”

“Good. I’ll help you with it tomorrow. We need to set better time limits. School. Life. Once we do that, I can add in some lessons. How to make Quincy armor. How to heal with reishi.”

Uryū stared. He was voluntarily planning that?!

“Your friends are coming by after school. Keep your phone with you. Take your supplements when I say so with the snacks I packed.”

“Right.”

He was acting like Uryū was a grade schooler.

Ryūken looked over at Tessai.

The man nodded once.

Ryūken nodded back and returned his focus to Uryū. “If you need me, call.”

“Kay.”

“Goodbye for now.”

“Bye…Dad.”

He was abruptly pulled in for a tight embrace and then just as quickly released.

“The sooner I go, the sooner I come back,” his father told him determinedly.

“O…kay…”

Weirder and weirder. Except it…kinda felt familiar like…

The dad he’d known before everything fell apart…was just…randomly back today.

He half-wished he could go with him and enjoy every minute until he faded away again.

“See you later, Dad.”

He was still standing there long after he’d driven away.

“Maybe you should sit this one out?” Urahara suggested as they gazed up at the blackened shell of the apartment unit. “Last night was… taxing for you.”

Ryūken scowled. “No.”

“How’s the poltergeist?” Isshin asked.

Ryūken pushed up his glasses. “Settled. He accomplished his main goal.”

He’d emptied a valet box to set the soul fragment in. The box had been safely nestled in his nightstand’s drawer, but that was a dark place. So, he tried putting the box where there would be more light but that left the soul fragment in a corner of the room and he had already endured enough isolation.

He ended up setting the valet box beside a picture of Kanae in his bedroom on a shelf where there would be some light and freshly circulating air.

Only, on seeing the soul piece there…he thought of all the years that had been spent trapped in a dirty, sagging cardboard box under the weight of other videos. He wrapped the disc in a soft blue cloth he usually kept for transporting watches on trips as an extra measure of protection and comfort.

“How are you?” Isshin asked seriously. 

“How do you think?” Ryūken spat, lip curling.

“Yeah. You were pretty out of it by the end. You tell him? That, uh, we know?”

Ryūken sighed. His fingers twitched, wanting a cigarette.

“No.”

“Hm. The kids might,” Isshin warned.

“I’m going to try and broach it after this. He wasn’t up for it this morning. I could tell.” 

He was getting better at gauging Uryū’s limits—when and where and why he would get overwhelmed. 

“Need back up?” Isshin asked.

“…”

“He’s a runner, right?”

“I will let you know.”

“Okay. I’m just saying—this offer holds for the future, too.”

“Fine. I will handle this one alone. But…should things…spiral and I need help, I’ll ask. On the condition.”

“Yeah?”

Ryūken glanced over at him. “When I tell you to go…”

“Then I go.”

“But why are you volunteering?” Ryūken asked. “Masaki-”

“Masaki would want me to, yes. However, this just…doesn’t sit right with me.”

Ryūken raised an eyebrow.

Isshin sighed and scratched his chin. “I don’t know. It’s too much. It’s…too complicated. I can’t believe it’s ALL by chance and that’s coming from me!”

Urahara nodded. “There’s a real possibility that where Aizen was fixated on Ichigo, Yhwach had his sights on Uryū. And I agree with Isshin. I think Yhwach was more… hands-on than what was previously believed.”

His glasses flashed. “You think he set him up to suffer?”

“I’m going through records for the Wandenreich. Sternritters have better accolades but aren’t very serendipitous. I mean, it’s looking like Yhwach had a big hand in how Haschwalth turned out. Who’s to say he hasn’t been pulling strings with Uryū?”

“What do you mean?” Isshin asked.

“Vollstandig.”

“What about it?” Ryūken muttered.

“Seems like soul injuries are a necessary component.” 

Of course they were. Suffering seemed to be a sacred tenet of being a Quincy.

Urahara had the same scanning device he’d used last night. And was using it on the building. “Yeah…the energy is a match. This is where his soul injury occurred.”

Ryūken nodded determinedly. “Go on.”

“We’ve all been wondering why he took Uryū at the end.”

“He wanted his powers more developed,” Ryūken reasoned. “For him to be more fully grown. Stronger archer.”

Urahara smirked. “He recruited a brain in a bowl. A dying patient. Some really old Quincies. A gang of girls. That…armored robotic guy? I’m still figuring that one out. Why was Uryū the last pick?”

“Technically, Ichigo was his last pick and my kiddo told him to take a hike. I am proud of him. That little punk. Heh heh,” Isshin gloated.

“What are you saying?” Ryuken asked but the other man was distracted.

Kisuke frowned. “Actually no, Isshin. Yhwach made his offer to Ichigo on June 13th. Jugram came for Uryū on the 17th. So, I think he had wanted Ichigo as a bargaining chip but that didn’t pan out. I don’t think Yhwach could take Uryū sooner. Aaaand I think he tried.”

That sent a shiver down his spine. “What?”

“Why did he have this equipment spying on Uryū from the time he was ten? Shouldn’t he have started watching at sixteen? Give it a year and a half and then swoop in?”

“…”

“This is seven years. He watched him for seven years and only played Ouija board and marbles with him? The Sternritters of his inner ring are handpicked and it’s a done deal that day. Join or die. The other Sternritters have to work their way up the ranks. Uryū was definitely handpicked from the start. But it took seven years to seal the deal?”

His flesh crawled. “No.” 

“‘Fraid so. I think he made multiple attempts. Just the last one worked.”

“…”

“Think about it. Injured physically, emotionally, spiritually and he didn’t whisk him off then? And then I got to thinking, maybe he tried? Maybe there’s something to it? Maybe Uryū has to want to go with him?”

“I don’t like that train of thought.” It was repulsive to contemplate his child choosing Yhwach.

Even though… last night…

To once again be passed over…

He thought Sōken being the one Uryū sought help from was painful.

This…

“Really? I thought it was kinda uplifting?” Urahara shrugged and readjusted his hat.

Ryūken choked. “H-How?!”

Urahara caught his eye and told him seriously, “It means he already has the power to resist him, even with a soul injury.”

“Where’s Yoruichi?” Ryūken asked, wanting to change the subject as he put on a pair of rubber gloves.

He offered another set to Isshin. Urahara had his own. 

“Well, I caught her up to speed and she was pretty pissed. She has a soft spot for kids,” Urahara replied. “And Uryū doesn’t really ask much. So, she’s making the Sasaharas her focus. Yeah, they’re garden variety vipers but she doesn’t want them biting us in the ass later. I mean, look how much trouble Aso was?”

Ryūken glowered. 

Salt in the wound…

“Too soon?” Urahara asked. 

Isshin shook his head.

Ryūken bared his teeth.

“Sorry,” the blond said with cheerful carelessness.

The three men stopped in front of old fraying caution tape that was barring the entrance.

“I could go first,” Isshin volunteered.

Ryūken elbowed him out of the way and shoved at the heavy, broken crashdoor. 

He gagged hard and leaned a hand against the wall. 

Urahara nodded as he entered. “Yeah, this is what I meant before when I said, ‘You’d know.’ What’s interesting is that I needed to be this close to pick it up.”

Tattered ribbons.

Urahara inspected one. “Quincy spells? Defensive concealment?”

Ryūken tried to answer an affirmative and dry heaved.

“Isshin, come on,” Kisuke called over his shoulder.

“Ryuu’s not a lightweight and he’s having a hard time. Did we need barf bags?” He entered and immediately turned a tinge of green.

“Do you not feel it to the same extent?” Isshin asked Urahara.

“I feel it,” he said shortly, “I just have more…experience than I’d like.”

Light blue eyes flashed. “Dealing with dead Quincies? Or dying Quincy children?”

Urahara didn’t look away. He also didn’t make light of it. “The feeling is going to get stronger the closer we get to the epicenter. I completely understand if you don’t want to do this. Isshin and I can manage this.” 

Every step further brought more vertigo and pain.

“We’re in gigais. You’re not. You’re a clairvoyant human, Ryūken. The psychic backlash would be rough even if it was a stranger. But this is a child. Your child-”

“Shut up!” He hissed as he gripped the railing and climbed the stairs. One foot in front of the other.

The closest thing he can liken it to is a primal, bloodcurdling scream that wouldn’t end. The way it kept triggering horripilation…

How that kept spiking his adrenaline…

And this was his child…his child’s soul…imprinting like this…

He was breathing heavily and sweating as he reached the third floor. 

There. First room on the landing with a noticeably broken door. 

He staggered to the door and touched it.

Pain lanced through him because Quincies were a breed of clairvoyant humans… only Kisuke could sum it up so neatly.

He moved into the room.

Nausea and panic that wasn’t his own began pressing in.

He wanted to sit down. It was hard to keep standing. 

There was a desire to open his arms and enfold that energy in them, as if he could soothe it somehow.

Urahara chanted a kido that blanketed the room and the hallway in red light from glowing symbols before fading. “So we don’t leave any contaminating traces that complicate the investigation.”

There were five locks on the door.

He touched the broken chains of two and one sliding lock that had been pried free of the wall.

The final chain lock was intact. The turn lock was similarly undamaged.

The door itself had blood and…glass.

“He was locking the door when it was broken,” Ryūken theorized.

He was lucky the glass hadn’t wedged in his eye or went through to his—

It felt macabre to act it out but…he needed to know.

“Uryū… the door hit you and you fell back. Hit your head.”

He sat down and felt heavier, like there was more gravity on him.

He looked down at the carpet, which was stiff underhand. Blood.

He turned to the side and caught a slight glimmer of reflected light. He carefully reached and retrieved half of his son’s glasses frames from where they’d been lost—half tucked between the baseboard and the ruined carpet.

“Only half?” He looked around but didn’t see the other portion.

“Odd.”

Isshin agreed. “Kisuke?”

Urahara scanned the room. “Not here.”

He didn’t like having to set the glasses back.

Ryūken looked up at the ceiling. There was a splattering of blood across it and the doorway.

He pointed up. “That came from a spirit arrow.”

He frowned. But it was closer to the door. How had he managed such an angle?

“He was dragged,” Isshin answered. “He shot while he was being dragged on the floor towards the door.” To demonstrate, he abruptly pulled Ryūken by the leg. 

“Ack! Let go, you idiot!”

Isshin flashed a grin that wasn’t quite sincere—he was trying to lighten the mood.

“Then not all the blood here or on the stairwell was his,” Urahara hazarded a guess. “Well, they had an interesting night. That probably scared them off and he just lay there until Towa discovered him?”

They explored the small one-room apartment.

There was an old futon. Ryūken used his flashlight and cockroaches scattered. He gagged and had to take a moment to compose himself.

Urahara called over, “It’s blood. That thing was soaked. Check out this calendar.”

It was on the floor but opened to April 2001.

He looked at the notes for the month.

There was “RENT!” with an unhappy face accompanying it.

“Grocery Day” had another unhappy face. As did “Laundry Day.”

There were also some comically large notes telling him to study on certain dates and even backtalk of “soooo boring!!!”

He’d had his exam days circled. And the day after school ended had the message: “See? You survived! High school awaits!” And there had been a doodle of Rain Dragon wrapping around the square as a symbol of celebration.

He gingerly flipped through some other pages with silly notes.

On November 6th he’d written “I AM 15!!! Yesssssss.”

He couldn’t help snorting at that even as his breath caught.

There’d been notes of his friends' lives: concerts and sports events.

And his own competitions. 

There was a lot of self-encouragement: “You’ve got this!” and “Good luck! Try your best!”

He looked around the tiny, dank apartment where Uryū had admitted to feeling scared…and still didn’t come home. 

But he’d been thinking about it before…

He glanced back down.

There were some doodles of tiny bows with arrows and skulls. 

 Ah.

“Hollow Hunting” and “Exterminations.”

The cabinets of the apartment’s micro-sized kitchen were blackened by smoke.

Urahara went to investigate the bathroom. “Hey Ryūken?”

Ryūken reluctantly went forth. He took one sweeping look at the bathtub which had old bloody bandages and a first aid kit with its contents scattered and blackened puddling stains on the cheap linoleum floor. 

Ryūken answered the unasked question: “He took the knife out by himself. Alone. Idiot.” 

It also wasn’t there.

“The knife is gone,” he murmured, “isn’t it?”

Kisuke did a sweep. “Yeah, it’s not here.”

It was definitely looking like a coverup of something.

”Damn it, Uryū.” He glared down at the stains once more. “That was so dangerous.”

But then he remembered how his child had been by the end of the video. Pulling the glass shards…

His ability to reason had probably gradually diminished. 

Imagining that… his son’s intelligence eroding away made it even more tragic.

Uryū sneezed.

Someone was talking about him.

Time had moved slowly for him today.

In some ways it was relaxing: he sketched, painted, ate lunch, and read comics.

He’d helped stock some pyramid-styled displays in the store. 

He’d drafted some ideas about what he thought cool reishi armor might look like, especially since the antique his dad had lent him just looked like regular clothes albeit heavier. 

He made some concept art featuring Sky Dragon.

His dad had seemed so offended that the character had been left out of a lot of arrangements.

It wasn’t just for him… 

He was strengthening his skills as an artist by returning to an old idea and building it into something better.

A sky dragon…

Something airy and celestial…

He thought of the upper stratosphere which was bright and cold. Sharp.

One picture made Sky Dragon look fierce with snapping jaws. 

Somehow his teeth and claws always looked sharper than Rain Dragon’s.

His design was sleeker. Fewer colors.

Maybe? He should be more reflective? His scales?

Movies were put on periodically as soothing background noise by Tessai as Uryū worked.

It kind of felt like he was trapped in a waiting room.

Back when Mom was in a coma at the hospital and Dad was working and Grandpa was…wherever he was…Uryū would sometimes wander to the various waiting rooms in different wings of the hospital to see which had the most interesting T.V. programming on.

There wasn’t a lot for a child his age to do but wander and worry.

Maybe that tied into his hospital project? Was he trying to find some kind of spiritual closure?

It was fifteen minutes past two.

He was mixing paint on an artist palette. “Dad’s not back yet. He said the afternoon.”

Tessai, who was meticulously organizing spices on a carousel he’d brought in from the kitchen, made a sound in agreement.

It was another thirty minutes before he sensed him.

Without thinking, he got up and rushed to the door, sliding it open. “Welcome-”

Except this wasn’t their home.

And he wasn’t a little kid.

“-home.”

He was an idiot. Why did he do that?

A warm hand settled on his head anyway and then slid down to cup his face briefly, just like it used to.

“Were you good?” Ryūken asked as he entered.

“Yes!” Half-offended at the thought and then he blinked. Why was he playing along with this? 

Dad smiled slightly.

He fidgeted.

And then there was the fact Urahara and Isshin had witnessed it.

“Hey, hey? Don’t be stingy. Welcome us, too!” Isshin grinned.

He flushed and tried to shut the shoji door again.

Isshin was too strong. Thankfully, his uncle was more amused than annoyed.

“Hey…did you accomplish what you needed to?” Uryū asked.

“Yes,” Ryūken said.

“And?”

“And have you decided if you want your friends to meet with you here or at the house?” his dad asked.

“Home would be more comfortable. I mean, the restorers are almost done so it’s not like we’re tripping over stuff anymore.”

“Home it is.”

Ryūken helped him gather up his belongings.

Isshin slipped in some kiddie cartoons with Uryū’s things.

Uryū rolled his eyes.

Oddly enough, his dad didn’t chastise him for that.

On the drive back, Uryū did most of the talking, aware that he hadn’t actually done much during his day but his dad kept acting like what he was saying was interesting, asking questions and making comments and that made him continue.

He’d always been a chatterbox. It was easy to talk too much if he was given any encouragement. 

It was embarrassing to realize as they pulled into the driveway that he’d talked the whole way.

He ended up sharing more than he expected—drafts for the puppet designs of the hospital project, how reishi armor might be infused into Ryūken’s doctor’s coat, and studies for Sky Dragon.

“You’d like that, right? Christmas is coming and you’re really hard to buy things for but you seem to like art.”

“I like your art.”

Which was hard to interpret. “Does that mean you think I’m skilled or that it’s just because it’s from me?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Do I make good art? Is that why you keep it?” Uryū asked, genuinely curious about what it was that inspired him to keep and watch over various tokens.

“‘Yes’ to the first. And ‘no’ to the second.”

He frowned and his head tilted to the side.

Ryūken turned the engine off and then looked at him steadily. “I keep it because you made it for me. You saw my nightstand; I keep all of your gifts.”

Chapter Text

There was something about his dad acting like he used to that made Uryū turn into a complete moron.

Here they were in the family wing with him eagerly, almost aggressively, showing off the artwork he’d made earlier. Like he was a rabid elementary schooler desperate for praise about his stupid finger painting.

Worse, Dad was indulging him. He’d point to different parts of the sketches and ask thoughtful questions and Uryū just couldn’t shut up.

He was going to annoy him. Then Ryūken would say something gutting and leave.

And it would be like third grade again when he couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong—why Dad didn’t like him anymore.

But Sensei still did and he let Uryū talk as much as he needed to. 

Dad wasn’t like Grandpa.

And Grandpa wasn’t here and he needed to shut up now while he was ahead.

He clamped his mouth shut.

He could do it. It wasn’t easy. But time in Schatten Bereich had taught him the necessity of biting one’s tongue.

After a few beats, Dad asked him what was wrong in that tone that always made him confess nightmares or wrongdoings or anxiety.

“I keep talking.”

“Yes.”

“I’m filling silence. It’s not like I have anything meaningful to say.”

“Show me the sketches for Sky Dragon you were talking about in the car.”

He immediately pulled his sketchpad over and offered it.

His father flipped through the pages. “Ah. The pearl continues to be a good idea. See? I have some now and then.” 

Uryū’s hair was ruffled.

“Hm. I like this one best.” He pointed without touching and smudging it. 

He was respectful of his artwork. In ways he never was with other subjects. Was it because he wasn’t much of an artist?

Crafting was one area he had an edge over him? Except he never acted competitive about it.

And that wasn’t strictly true, was it? Apparently he could smith still-silver arrows and reishi armor and…make? Maintain? A Quincy training facility under the hospital?

Damn. That definitely made him feel less special. All his work seemed ephemeral in comparison.

“If I may choose my gift, I would like this,” Dad requested.

He’d had a feeling it would be that one—Where the dragon was in the open sky, free.

“Sure.”

He leaned in and watched as his dad appraised unrelated sketches, like the one his father was currently looking at.

Uryū had seen a dragonfly perched on a tall weed over at the shop. And he was trying to understand how its wings and light worked.

“That’s just a study.”

“You’re very observant, Uryū. An eye for detail.”

He had a weakness for compliments. He’d known that for a while and tried to guard himself against it but—

“Yeah?”

He couldn’t help being a little bit pathetic. 

Teachers usually came in two varieties: complimentary or defensive. 

Complimentary ones would start nice, learn about his dismal home life, and try to make up for what he was missing. Which was embarrassing even when it was nice because they were trying to show him some care while accidentally alienating him from his peers. 

Defensive ones were masters of jibes. They’d say things like “An S+ for Ishida who went up and beyond expectations” followed with a smirk to the rest of the class “And B’s for the rest of you who actually enjoyed your weekend like normal human beings.”

Classmates who complimented him either admired him blindly, wanted tips, considered themselves polite rivals, or wanted to look good socially while quietly hating him. 

It was nice to just have someone appreciate what he made. Orihime was good at that. She could take one look at his embroidery and see all of the hours. Chad wasn’t as forthcoming but he tended to be honest when something did impress him. 

Ichigo wasn’t one to compliment him period. The closest he’d come to it was wanting him alongside him in a battle, which was equal parts trust in him as a person and his abilities.

He rested against his father and was content to be praised for something as stupid and inconsequential as this.

Only, he ended up falling asleep so he didn’t even get to really savor the moment.

When he woke up, it was to the sterner expression he was used to his father wearing. 

Damn it. 

Ryūken was now sitting in a nearby chair studying the supplies that had gone with Uryū to Urahara’s Shop.

But then, on making brief eye contact and Uryū cringing slightly, Ryūken’s tone was softer than expected as he scolded, “Uryū, you didn’t eat all of your bento.”

He blinked as he was shown the box.

Yeah. He’d eaten about half.

“That’s why you’re tired, you need to eat better. How will you regain your strength?”

His father picked up the sketchpad and turned it to the page with the dragonfly.

“The dragonfly is a symbol of courage, yes? He’s a mighty hunter. It’s not for mere sport. He eats what he catches.”

“…”

“Humans are hunters, too. Eat what’s been caught.” He handed the bento box back since the food was still fresh. 

He blinked. So…Ryūken saw himself as a hunter—a provider for his family.

“Any father can offer the minimum: food, shelter.

A better father gives guidance and imparts what he’s learned, good or ill.

A good father encourages those who depend on him with the will to thrive.” Yhwach smiled.

“A loving father sees what his child needs and provides.”

Something was better than nothing, right? And he’d had years of nothing, which were still better than dinners with sides of scorn and ridicule.

“Are you feeling ill?”

“No.” He ate a third more before getting bored. “I haven’t done much so I didn’t really work up an appetite.”

His father raised an eyebrow and gestured to the art pad.

“That’s different.”

“No. That took a lot of energy. You need to replenish. You don’t want to sleep through your friends’ visit.”

He winced. “Again.”

“They understand. You were tired last night.”

“Did they seem…” Angry, shocked, disappointed that he’d inadvertently gotten Yhwach’s attention and in a moment of weakness that even he didn’t fully comprehend—

“They are only concerned about you.”

His hands fiddled with his chopsticks and he put his bento down on the table. “What…what did you do after I went up and stayed out of things?”

His father took a deep breath, stood up and came over.

Uryū moved to make room. Was the lecture coming now? How dare he request anything of Yhwach?!

What a betrayal of his mother’s memory? And everything they’d fought for last June?

His father sat close and draped an arm around him.

Not the response he expected.

“Your friend Orihime held another séance to try and figure out how to appease the poltergeist.”

Talk about a curve ball.

“Oh…how did…that go?”

Ryūken nodded. “We… learned what he wanted.”

Uryū’s jaw dropped. “Really? In one night?”

“No, it…it took a lot of days and nights, I…I’m not as observant as you are. But I did finally figure it out. What he wanted me to find…in the box. Between the cardboard flaps, there was a camcorder disc.”

His stomach flopped. 

Oh no.

“We don’t own equipment for that kind of stuff with the T.V.” he said blankly.

There was still time. Dad wouldn’t know how to get a computer to read it. 

Maybe he could get it? Switch it out?

“Your cousin called Urahara to help us. He brought over machinery.”

Too late.

But there hadn’t been any calls, texts, or emails. It couldn’t be THE dreaded disc Junya had warned him of?

“You…you watched…it?” Maybe they hadn’t—?

“Yes, the six of us watched it.”

His mouth felt dry. “What…what was…on it?”

His father’s hand patted his arm and gave a squeeze. “It was a timeline of events. Moments that Junya had recorded that captured the escalation of violence between Aso and you. And the night your apartment burned.”

He swallowed. “And it’s…here? This disc.”

“The disc contains the poltergeist. As the soul fragment took up residence within it on that night.”

“…Here…the whole time…?” 

No…

“A copy has been made by Urahara who will ensure the authorities receive it.”

“You all saw and now they’ll see, too?”

Damn it.

“By being informed, we can better support you now.”

“…” He didn’t want to look at him.

All that. For nothing. They’d seen Aso fight him, beat him…so effortlessly. Then, trick him and knife him—and after he’d worked so hard to get stronger—asking martial artists to teach him how to fight adult opponents. Just for Aso to cheat and render his new techniques useless.

And then…that night where he’d been beaten to a pulp…the highlight of a surreal day he could barely remember.

What was he even supposed to say?

I’m sorry you had to witness that. I’m sorry I couldn’t do better. I’m sorry I lost. 

What more could be said?

My opponent was stronger and more conniving and I was wounded.

My opponents were greater in number and more ruthless and I was outmatched.

The world was bigger and crueler and more complicated than I expected.

I was overwhelmed and I was defeated.

I was stupid. I believed people were better than Hollows. I was wrong.

But I learned from it.

He opened his mouth and was cut off.

“You should’ve been able to turn to me and depend on my strength to protect you. I failed you, my dragon. I’m sorry. I was not there at your lowest points.” Ryūken’s expression was very serious.

He was a little stunned to hear his insult from that night, weeks ago, to be embraced as the truth it was.

Because…

No, he wasn’t. He never was. And those low points had been unseated now. Yhwach had the dubious honor of being the worst thing that had befallen him… because he was the reason Mom…

So why?

Why did this still piss him off?

That cold bland expression on his father’s face. He always seemed to wear it in moments like these.

So damned composed while he was struggling not to fall apart.

It made Ryūken seem insincere.

It made Uryū seem pathetic.

It kind of proved the previous interactions were some kind of an act. This was his real face, wasn’t it? Who he really was underneath? Cold. Hard. Unfeeling.

“So you were being nice because you pity me.” Great.

“Ridiculous. I’m always gentle with you.”

“Ha!”

Delusional!

“Uryū-”

“When were you going to tell me?” he snapped. “My friends will be here anytime now. Were you expecting them to break the news?” 

How were they going to see him now?

Everything was going to be awkward. 

Ruined.

All the respect he’d worked so hard for.

Lost.

“No. You’ve been fragile all day. I could tell. I had to give you time to recover,” Ryūken insisted.

He flinched. Fragile? Ryūken thought he was fragile?!

He pulled away from the arm that had been around him and perched at the edge of the sofa cushion. 

He was Yhwach’s Successor! Prince Von Licht!

He… remembered Ichigo’s blade in his side, Ulquiorra’s claws tearing his arm off, Renji’s sword cutting through him, Aso’s knife in his shoulder, Aso’s weight crushing him…

“Uryū?” 

His father’s arrow striking him.

No one else had ever gotten a bull’s eye. 

Hit him exactly as they intended.

Fragile.

Weak.

No matter how hard he tried to overcome it.

Ryūken’s mouth was a grim line. 

Uryū’s face had gone bloodless and he wasn’t blinking. Thankfully, they were still seated. Otherwise, the boy might’ve fainted.

“I needed you to be better settled. Well rested. Well fed. You have been through a lot and you need to be patient and careful with yourself. This is a critical juncture for us to navigate.”

“…” His son was so very pale.

His fingers twitched. He wanted to check his heart rate.

He leaned forward and continued to explain, “What happened in the police station…you’ve had a few episodes before that, too. There was also that nightmare in Kyoto…that upsurge of grief…the accidental arrow release at the hotel…it all connects. To this… This extended traumatic experience.”

“…”

“You survived. I’m proud of you. You are very brave. Very resilient. But this part. The healing part will take time. No ransōtengai for this. You can’t force it. You can’t rush it.”

He reached for his son’s shoulder again.

Uryū jerked involuntarily and blinked hard. His hair slid messily over his face.

“Listen.” Ryūken’s hand moved to straighten that dark hair. 

Uryū pushed his hand away.

“Listen to me,” he ordered.

His son glared.

That was a familiar sight.

It steeled him. “Uryū Ishida, you listen to me right now, young man.” He held his gaze. “You are not broken.”

His child blinked in surprise, not expecting that.

“Not yet. But if you continue like this, you will be. So stop it,” he hissed— or what’s left of your father’s heart will break —he thought darkly.

He couldn’t bear it—to see his child’s spirit broken. But he could sense how close he was to a breaking point.

How fragile.

His son’s eyes blazed. 

He was rallying his strength.

Idiot. He was wasting energy. Ryūken wasn’t an enemy.

“So, that’s why you’re treating me like this? You’re playing nice because I’m a flight-risk patient?!” Uryū shouted. 

“HA! You think I’m this way with my patients? I have supporting staff. I have lists of surgeries I need to perform. Appointments that exceed the years. I do what only I can and I move on. And others step up. Only you get around-the-clock care from me.” 

His son gave him an annoyed look.

“Why do you think your temper is reviving?” He demanded. “Where did this energy come from? Damn it, I’ve been taking good care of you, Uryū. Food, drink, sleep, medicine, supplements, meditative exercises, therapeutic activities—Think! Why am I doing this?”

There was a hard beat and then—

“Trying to help me,” his son muttered.

He nodded. “Yes. Why do I want to help you?”

There were a lot of cruel answers his child could give: reputation, societal expectations, guilt, obligation to a dead wife. 

“I…I…matter to you,” he mumbled.

Truth.

“Precisely. See?” He tucked an errant strand of hair behind his son’s ear. And then checked his pulse—setting his fingers to the carotid artery and timing it with his watch. His heartbeat was steady, even after he’d gotten angry, he was already calming back down. “It’s getting easier, isn’t it? To think critically? Bad health makes for a bad attitude and makes bad thoughts worse. Louder? Repetitive? Intrusive?”

His son grimaced and nodded reluctantly. 

“See? You just conceded a point.” Ryūken smirked and released him, satisfied that his heart rate was within a normal range.

“Are you seriously gloating right now?” Uryū grumbled.

“That would be silly and counterproductive.” He straightened his child’s collar. “I’m pointing out that you’re getting better at self-regulation. Emotional and behavioral. And that’s in spite of teenage hormones complicating things. And this was possible just through the small things we’ve managed, Uryū. More stable routines. More health-conscious decision-making. You’re socializing and you’re relaxing and you’re in a safer environment. This is all helping you.”

“…”

“You’re injured. The-” Horror. “-trauma you experienced …It’s natural to be upset by…anyone normal would be—”

“You think I’m normal?” He laughed dryly.

Ryūken was taken aback. Again that idea was cropping up. “Of course you’re normal, Uryū, I would be more concerned if you weren’t affected by this. That would be... that would be very…unsettling. That would reveal a personality that required extensive intervention—anyways, I’ve made an appointment for us with a psychiatrist.”

His son sighed. “You want me on pills. It was always going to come back to this.”

He couldn’t allow stigma to bar his son from what he needed.

“I want you to have treatment. The anxiety, the insomnia, the negativity… All of these are hallmark symptoms of PTSD. It is important to remember that it wasn’t just your body that went through that ordeal. It was your brain. Your mind. Your body was able to recover. Your mind was left to itself.”

It was a cruel twist that all the kindness Uryū showed others in times of trouble wasn’t reflected inward when he was in need.

This wasn’t even broaching his experience with Yhwach.

And it was seeming contrived that he’d undergone this trial that undermined his faith in adults before being recruited by the tyrant; Yhwach wanted his Sternritters damaged before he claimed them.

His already low opinion sunk further.

Was he willing to stage such occurrences? Or was he a passive observer? Purposely not intervening until the final moment, where he could play savior?

“…”

“It’s your mind’s turn to be prioritized. That’s what we’re doing,” Ryūken told him.

He was determined to rescue him, even if it was from himself.

The intercom went off: “Master Ryūken? The young master’s friends have arrived, shall I lead them into the parlor?”

He looked to Uryū. 

His son exhaled heavily but nodded. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Ryūken’s face must’ve betrayed his worry because his son followed up with, “No Sternritter shenanigans, I promise. I just think my hair’s messy.”

It was.

“I don’t think your friends will care.”

“I care.”

“I’ll receive our guests. If you’re not down in five minutes, I will be in pursuit this time.”

Uryū sighed. “Right.”

“What the heck is that?!” Ichigo exclaimed.

“Ichigo, what do you mean? It’s a care basket,” Orihime replied as she balanced an absurdly large and tacky gift on her hip. 

Ryūken tried not to smirk. So she was the one who’d brought his son gifts last time, after Ginjō.

“Why is it so huge?” Ichigo asked irately.

Ah. So, his nephew did reciprocate the girl’s interest and this was a bit too much care on his cousin’s behalf.

She brightened as if glad to be asked. “Well, I got to thinking about all the time that went by since those bad things happened and now. And how it was like interest building so I needed the gift to be extra everything to make it balance out. It was easier than I thought because a lot of the shops and craft stores know Uryū. And when they asked me who the gift was for and I mentioned him and that he was having a hard time and I wanted to do something nice for him because he’s our friend—they all started giving things. It turns out Uryū has helped lots of people. I guess it’s not very surprising, though. He’s very nice.”

No, it wasn’t surprising.

“I wouldn’t know,” Ichigo deadpanned. “He’s always a jerk to me.”

She giggled. “You’re so funny.”

“They just…gave you all this?” Ichigo was flabbergasted. “Why?”

She fidgeted a little. “Ummm. At first, they were kind of under the impression that Uryū was an orphan. But I corrected them so don’t worry, Dr. Ishida! I explained that it was all a terrible misunderstanding. For both of you. That all you wanted was for Uryū to come home and live safely and quietly. And all Uryū wanted was for you to believe in him.”

Ryūken raised an eyebrow. “…I don’t set impossible goals. I know he can’t live quietly.”

Ichigo snickered.

“But I told them things are much better now!” Orihime reported.

“Thank you.” Ryūken then looked at Ichigo and Yasutora expectantly.

Yasutora set down a gift card. “iTunes.”

Ichigo fidgeted, patted his pockets, and pulled out a warped candy bar to set down.

“Sure you can part with that?” Ryūken asked him. 

Ichigo turned red. “I didn’t know we needed to bring tribute, Uncle.”

“You have no manners. Even Masaki knew better.”

“Oi…” His nephew had the grace to look chagrined.

“Dad, it’s fine,” Uryū muttered as he entered the room. “We can’t have baseline standards when it comes to Ichigo.”

“Why you—?!”

“Uryū!” Orihime immediately shutting down what would’ve been an argument by rushing over and presenting the gift basket. “I’m so sorry, Uryū. I hate to think of anyone hurting you. And he-he was so evil. I hope this helps even just a little bit!”

“Wow, this is too much.” He accepted the basket awkwardly.

“No. You need to know how much we and the community care about you!” she told him fiercely.

“You… told-?” He turned red at the thought of more people knowing.

“-That you were having a tough time. Everyone is rooting for you,” she told him. 

“I-I see.” He pushed up his glasses.

“But you get to decide who knows what and to what extent. I’m so sorry we viewed your experience without your express consent.” She bowed.

She was smart.

Ryūken had to hand it to her. She was good at de-escalating a complicated situation while simultaneously building Uryū back up—allowing him dignity.

Ryūken… admittedly struggled with that. 

He was a parent. He’d changed his son’s diapers, given him baths, and cleaned up his vomit. He regularly dealt with a number of bodily messes from his offspring over the years.

He was a doctor. While treating his son and others, he was exposed to all of those aforementioned excretions and then some.

To save lives, boundaries were frequently crossed.

Boundaries. 

It was difficult to recognize them and respect them. 

Uryū felt very much like an extension of himself—that all of their triumphs and trials were shared.

His own parents’ treatment of him made more sense under that framing.

He’d rebelled hard against their expectations for him.

But Ryūken’s wants for his child seemed far more reasonable…

Yes, watching that disc had technically been a breach of privacy but…

The dad and doctor in him both waved it off immediately; he had needed to know.

It was a pity Uryū thought he needed to hide it at all.  

“It’s… not how I would’ve preferred you to learn about… that period of my life.” Uryū sighed as he set the basket down.  

Yasutora silently handed him the gift card.

“Thanks.”

“Oi!” Ichigo tossed him the candy bar. 

Uryū glanced at it and then his cousin. “I’ll cherish it.”

“Wise-ass.” Ichigo walked over and delivered a punch to his arm. “I thought I told you before, don’t hide stuff.” 

“Yes! We’re your friends! You should definitely confide in us!” Orihime scolded softly. “Though I understand why this was hard.”

Yasutora was quiet.

Uryū raised an eyebrow. “Not going to pile on?” 

“Ousuke and the other bullies from your year…Do you still see them at school competitions?” Yasutora asked.

Uryū blinked. “Huh? Oh…uhhh…yeah, sometimes.”

“Do they still give you a hard time?” Yasutora’s eyes narrowed.

Uryū bit his lip. 

“That’s a yes, isn’t it?” Ryūken frowned, making a note to himself that he’d need to attend some of these other functions as well.

“Just a rumor mill.” Uryū pushed his glasses up.

“Rumors like what?” Ryūken asked.

“You know… stuff… about us,” he mumbled.

“Like what?”

“You don’t want to hear this stuff.”

“…Try me.”

“…Remember that you asked.”

Ryuken crossed his arms. “Let’s hear it.”

“You know, the usual? You threw me out of the house to have sordid, inappropriate relations with your staff, both of them—at work and at home.”

His eye twitched. “Absurd. The others?”

“I wasn’t actually your son and Mom tricked you. And you figured it out in middle school after my hospitalization and that’s why we went our separate ways.”

“Ridiculous. I’ll make sure we appear somewhere publicly that’s televised. That’ll end that one.”

Uryū raised an eyebrow.

Ryūken raised his eyebrow in return. “You have my jawline, my nose, my eyebrows, my eye shape, and my body type. You’re obviously mine.”

Uryū turned a little pink and shrugged. 

“What else?”

Uryū’s mouth twitched a little in amusement. “The house is haunted and I was sent away to escape a family curse that was killing everyone. It was down to us. I was allowed to come back after you found reliable shamans to hold exorcisms and lift the spell.”

“That one is more reasonable. We can lean into that.”

Uryū snickered. “Really?”

“When are your next public events as Student Council President and Handicrafts Club competitions?”  Yasutora asked.

“I’ll add you all to our electronic calendar. It’s marked there,” Ryūken offered. “I just need your emails.”

It wouldn’t hurt to have such information on file.

It was a tiring Thursday.

Uryū flopped onto his bed. Their meeting with the police that morning had ended on an even more awful note than he expected (as if rehashing his experience as a thirteen-year-old punching bag and then a fifteen-year-old pin cushion wasn’t bad enough). He’d choked his way through that conversation, his only consolation being he neither threw up or found himself in the corner again. He did wind up so far underwing to Ryūken that it seemed like he was narrating the ordeal to his father’s pocket protector. The only benefit being that when the officers asked him to repeat something, Ryūken answered for him.

It was so humiliating. His face was all puffy by the time the session ended.

Meanwhile, Ryūken looked as unflappable as ever. His jacket was just slightly wrinkled from where Uryū had grabbed it at times. 

As they were leaving, the Gomis arrived. 

Junya’s parents immediately began apologizing to Ryūken on behalf of their son, bowing deeply as they expressed remorse for Junya’s lack of action.

It got even more awkward as Ryūken stood there silently.

Then the Gomis knelt.

Uryū’s face burned. His father wasn’t going to actually let them perform dogeza here at the station, was he? 

He turned to his father.

And Junya’s words floated back: “You don’t even know...” 

“Trust me. The rest of us don’t get a watered-down scowl. He glared at me…

He was worried that you were in trouble and I could help but wasn’t going to. He was furious with me…”

Uryū had a tendency to dismiss his dad as emotionless. He alternated between lamenting or joking that Dr. Snowman had no expressions.

That Grandma somehow hadn’t passed any of her rage down despite being the source of her grandson’s impressive scowls.

His father’s eyes blazed and his nostrils flared and there was a vein pulsing on his forehead. 

The intensity caught him completely off guard.

It came with the uncomfortable realization that Junya was right; he’d never seen his father truly angry at him and that his father purposely made sure of that.

He spoke coldly… harshly to him… was openly critical of him… mocked him but… never lost control. Never focused his rage at him.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. That he wasn’t allowed to deal with this aspect of his father’s personality. It probably meant his father would never see him as an equal. Ever. 

He was always going to be viewed as something lesser, something weaker, something that had to be protected.

Time stretched.

Ryūken wasn’t going to accept the Gomi family’s apology.

To him, Patriarch of Ishida House, the offense was too great.

Uryū could see the officers’ discomfort.

How the Gomis were sweating.

How his father’s fury was barely suppressed and would break free.

He had to do something to de-escalate the situation, even if it meant losing more of his dignity and exploiting his father’s…

He’d essentially called him a weak point, right?

“Please, Dad?”

Ryūken turned, expression cold and bland once more.

No fury.

Of course not.

His anger was not for him.

That brought a swirl of complicated feelings; that this was affection mixed with restraint and dismissiveness—which was infantilizing and yet reassuring.

“I’m always gentle with you.”

Time to put that to the test.

Uryū bowed respectfully as he softly requested, “Dad, may we go, please?”

Because Junya didn’t deserve Ryūken’s ire, he’d been a middle schooler overwhelmed by what he was witnessing and at a loss of what to do.