Chapter Text
Uryū carefully parted his fringe, combed his hair again, and nodded at his reflection in approval.
First impressions were important, but he had to be realistic—this was as good as it was going to get.
His teeth were brushed. His shirt was buttoned and tucked. His belt was on and through all of the loops. No teasing about that this time! He’d missed some in fourth grade and the memory haunted him. After that, he always did a double-check spin.
This was it.
First day of middle school.
Almost twelve and a half years old.
Over halfway to being a grownup.
Maybe he’d be one of the glamorous ones? To make up for now?
Like the Ugly Duckling?
Because this right here, he grimaced at the mirror, was the ugly stage.
He was small, skinny, and nerdy-looking and nothing seemed to help.
The one small mercy was that he wasn’t breaking out in acne. He’d gotten a long lecture from his father a few months ago about evolving needs and hygiene. He took it upon himself as a doctor to clinically outline new steps in Uryū’s routine for body and skin care as he “began his transition into adulthood.”
Whatever the hell that really meant?
The biggest takeaway being: he now needed to use deodorant every day and wash… everywhere really well… for the sake of his personal health and the community at large.
Ugly and stinky?
Come on, that just wasn’t fair.
Talk about kicking a guy when he was down?
He remembered reading the Ugly Duckling when he was really, really, really little, like, reading-a-baby-board-book little.
On finishing it, he’d turned to his parents who were clapping because he read it aloud with very minimal help from them and burst into tears, asking, “Is Ryū ugly?”
He’d assumed they’d been trying to convey something covertly to him by choosing that particular book for him to read, his toddler brain was devastated.
Mommy gasped. “No! Beautiful baby! Right, Daddy? Ryū is a beautiful baby.”
Daddy blinked.
Uryū remembered waiting half-certain of doom.
“Beautiful dragon,” Daddy corrected.
A toddler Uryū had cheered because he wasn’t a duck, let alone an ugly one.
He was a rain dragon.
“Rain dragon,” he repeated to himself.
Powerful, graceful, clever, benevolent and… beautiful? Eh. Handsome? Were dragons handsome?
He sighed. And looked at his teeth again. He still had some baby ones and one of his canines on the side was taking forever to erupt fully.
Was he normal tween ugly? Or ugly ugly? Oogly?
He was half sure if he repeated this fear to his dad now, he would just go:
“Hn. What can you do? It’s puberty.”
Then he’d go for a smoke break outside the house to escape being asked another question.
Ryūken hated questions.
He was always tired. Questions made him more tired.
Kinda like Baba Yaga.
Uryū giggled. She aged with each one. He then imagined his dad’s hair got whiter with every question.
So this morning when Dad drove him to school, he had to try his best not to ask any.
Though, he eyed his uniform’s tie on the bathroom counter.
How was he supposed to get him to teach him to tie it without asking?
He smirked at the thought of using an imperative: Tie this!
In the end, he gave it a go himself—figuring that if it was too awful, Dad would fix it for him.
Though, there’d probably be a gruff, “I can’t believe you would struggle with something so simple as this.”
He headed downstairs for breakfast but not before acknowledging his mom and grandpa in the photos on his dresser.
“First day of middle school,” he told them. “I’ll do my best. For you. I promise.”
Omurice was delicious. The best way to start a school year. If he could only have one breakfast meal for the rest of his life, choice made—no regrets.
Food powered thoughts.
Good food powered decisive thoughts and actions.
He needed to be on his game.
Number One. He was gonna stay Number One of the whole school district.
Yes.
Positive thoughts. Positive manifestation. Or at least that’s what the men’s self-help book he’d been reading last week had said. He’d read the table of contents and was four chapters in when he asked Mr. Tsunoda, the head librarian of Karakura University, what a ‘failing libido’ was.
Because the next chapter was about that and how it would help him reclaim a bedroom.
He thought he had it narrowed down.
“Is it like a turn of phrase for a failing kidney or losing interest in decluttering your room?” He theorized.
“No and no.” Mr. Tsunoda took the book away with the caveat that he’d mark the title down. “If you still want to read this in five years, you may.”
Weird. Though, he told him to come by this Friday.
“I’ll have books that you can peruse that are… more relevant to your current life stage,” Mr. Tsunoda then sent him back off to the public library. Which was lame because it looked way more impressive to read things at the university library. When he was here, it was obvious he was a scholar.
When he was at the public library… people asked if he liked stickers.
Which he did but… they didn’t have to announce it. They could just wordlessly offer and he’d wordlessly accept.
“They have another summer reading program. There’s a raffle. You better enter,” Mr. Tsunoda told him.
He’d probably even follow up.
All the libraries in Karakura had pretty much known Uryū since birth. Before birth actually.
His mom had visited libraries her whole life. They all knew her.
It helped. Hearing stories about her.
Dad never wanted to talk about her anymore.
Never wanted to talk about anything.
Would usually remark that he just wanted a moment of peace and quiet.
He wondered if he was that way at work, too? And he imagined a whole staff of people having to communicate with him on Magna Doodles.
After he was finished with his meal, he went to the kitchen to thank Juri for making it.
Juri, their family’s chef, offered to help him with his tie but he wanted Dad to do it.
He grabbed and packed his bento for school. He hoped Juri had made something cool like a rice ball panda. Tasty and neat.
Then, because he was doing well on time, he decided this day needed to be commemorated.
Pictures!
Because somebody needed to keep contributing to their family’s albums.
He was getting better at using the timer. He set the tripod up and posed.
Dad used to take his picture a lot, especially at the start of a school year.
If he’d known he’d stop after Mom died, he’d have smiled in the last one he took.
He looked like a dope in that one. Just staring up at his dad with one eyebrow raised.
He made sure to do Victory V gestures in some of these pictures. Much cooler.
He needed all the help he could get on the coolness front.
It… didn’t come naturally for him.
At least he’d get to show up at school in his dad’s sports car.
That should grant him some points, right? Vicariously?
He checked his watch, went to his dad’s office, and tentatively knocked.
“Dad?” He hoped he wasn’t napping or doing something complicated that pulling him away from would make him agitated. “Dad, it’s…it’s time to leave for school.”
Maybe he’d be willing to take one picture? And fix his tie for the picture?
“Daaad?”
Nothing.
He concentrated on spirit ribbons and found—
“He’s…not here?”
He frowned and searched for the ribbon. Director Ryūken Ishida was at Karakura General Hospital.
What was he doing all the way over there?!
He promised!
He’d told Uryū last night to be up and dressed and ready to go in the morning.
A slightly out of breath Juri appeared. “Young Master, I will be driving you to school today. Your father was needed early this morning. He just called. He won’t be able to get away. I-”
“Oh. Right.”
His job.
It always came first.
“I…understand. Thanks, Juri. Just… gimme a second.”
He went to his room to compose himself.
He lied.
Dad lied.
Again.
Dad was always lying.
Why was he so surprised?
He sighed.
He glanced at the camera in his hand. It was Dad’s. He was supposed to ask permission just to handle it. He was never supposed to take it from the house.
But… but…
His expression steeled.
Dad wasn’t here, was he?
He stashed the camera in his backpack.
So, Dad didn’t think today was an important day.
So what?
Mom would.
He went and put on the white jade necklace she’d bequeathed him.
He needed it for extra luck. He tucked it under his shirt.
It had belonged to Grandpa Katagiri who’d died valiantly fighting Hollows so his wife and daughter could escape.
A hero.
Uryū was from a line of heroes.
Just imagine if he still had two grandpas?
Now they were both gone.
Stupid Hollows.
Why did souls have to let themselves corrupt? And ruin things for the rest of them?
Crack.
Crunch.
And then his grandfather died.
And then the Shinigami took his soul.
And then there were bugs because it was summer and summers were humid in Karakura.
And bugs liked bodies.
And then Uryū had to stagger into a convenience store on numb legs to ask a grownup to make a report regarding the park.
And then he had to go home and wash up and head to cram school otherwise Dad would be even angrier.
He’d spent most of his time that day crying in the facility’s bathroom.
But that didn’t matter because he’d already finished the week’s project and turned it in. And it wasn’t like he had any friends there that would care about his absence.
And the grownups there only saw students as paychecks and checkboxes. If he was progressing well through the program, that was all that mattered.
Cram school workers just weren’t as invested as regular school staff in kids. Maybe it was the amount of time?
Except, what did that say about families? Where parents were always absent?
He was supposed to interpret his dad’s work ethic as something good.
Except the halls of this house were so empty.
He missed Sensei so much. He couldn’t afford to look at his photo again this morning or he’d burst into tears.
Nothing seemed to make his passing easier.
And if Dad didn’t like talking about Mom, he really didn’t like talking about Grandpa.
There was a knock on the door. “Young Master, are you alright?”
He wiped his eyes and braced himself. “Yes, I’m ready! Let’s go.”
Time to be brave.
The Katagiris and the Ishidas were depending on him to make them proud.
“You will meet me?” Juri prompted as the car slowly moved up in the drop-off line.
“At the corner, near the phone booth,” Uryū answered.
“And?”
“Be timely.”
“And?”
“Don’t talk to strangers. Be mindful of my surroundings.”
“Yes, that’s very important. You need to be safe, Young Master. Then, I’ll drive you to cram school. You’ll be there for an hour and a half. And then I’ll take you home.”
“Right.”
“Okay. Here we are.” He unlocked the doors. “Have a good day, do your best. I’ll see you later.”
“Thanks, Juri, I will. Um…Hey Juri?” He adjusted his backpack on his shoulders.
“Yes?”
“If-if something happens and I throw up or I fall down stairs or the ground splits open and lava surges up—”
“You have my number and your father’s and quickly head very far away and to higher ground. Remember with lava, there’s convection not merely conduction.”
“Right. Good note. Bye.” Uryū shut the car door and took a deep breath as he stared up at the school’s fancy entry gate. So tall and imposing.
And he was going to have to last three years here.
He gulped.
Juri rolled down the window. “Tie your shoe, Young M-”
He glanced down. “Oh right.”
He knelt. “Hey Juri? Tonight for dinner-”
“Tie your shoe.”
“Yes. But dinner—”
Juri smiled and teased, “Carrot soup of course. Just for you.”
“Yuck. No.” He double-knotted his shoelaces for both shoes.
“No?”
“Stop, Juri. That’s not funny.”
“Mackerel miso stew as requested.”
“Yes! And fruit sandwiches for after school, pleeeease? I have to have something to look forward to. Cram school is boring.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks Juri, you’re the best!” He grinned.
“Have a good day! Be polite! Make friends!”
“Right!” He walked up to the gate. He turned. He waved. Juri waved back.
He waited for Uryū to pass through the gate and then drove away. Another car from the queue pulled up to drop off their student.
No turning back now.
Uryū looked around.
The school was very nice. Big campus. Big building with other supporting departments. Lots of specialized classes. There were several floors and a huge Zelkova tree.
He moved on to where there was a low stonewall that displayed “Karakura Academy: Where bright, young minds gather and shine.”
And he was going to be the brightest.
For Mom.
She’d wanted this school for him.
He wasn’t going to let her down.
Come on, Uryū. Have a good attitude.
He pulled out the camera. Could he hold it and get the sign, the school, and himself in it?
Maybe at an angle?
“Welcome to Karakura Academy.”
“Eek!” He almost dropped the camera.
You’d think someone with spirit detection abilities wouldn’t be caught off guard so easily.
He turned to face his greeter who was a man in his late fifties or early sixties.
It was hard for Uryū to gauge ages. He seemed old, but not as old as Sensei.
His heart twisted.
The man seemed somewhat familiar, but his thoughts were a little jumbled right now.
“What excellent timing? Mr. Aso? Would you mind taking a picture for us?”
“Of course, Principal Satō.”
Uryū blinked. Whoa. This was the principal! He then recognized him from the school pamphlet he’d memorized.
“Hello, Mr. Satō.” He bowed. “I’m Uryū Ishida. This is my first year here. I’m pleased to make both of your acquaintances.” He bowed to Mr. Aso, too. “I will work very hard and hope to bring honor to the school under your tutelage.”
“How very polite. You are exactly as I remember,” the principal said.
Uryū frowned in contemplation. “Hm? Oh! You were a judge at the last spelling bee!”
“I was very impressed by you. You seem like a very diligent scholar.”
Uryū grinned. He was in the principal’s good graces! Already! First day! This was awesome.
“Is it okay for us to take a picture or do you have more important—?”
“I would be delighted. Here, just a moment. Let’s straighten this tie, shall we?” The older man suggested and gently retied it for him. “Windsor knot. It’s a little tricky, huh?”
Mr. Aso took the camera from him and moved into position.
“I’m left-handed. It’s like my DNA decided to make life harder for me,” Uryū shrugged.
You know, on top of being a Quincy and that whole descendant of a dying race of humans thing?
Both of the adults laughed.
“Well, if you’re still struggling at the end of the month, I’ll teach you personally. We give new students a month to acclimate before doing uniform demerits, unless something is very egregiously rebellious. There are multiple tie knots and most of them are acceptable by the dress code here.”
“Okay! Thank you.” That was a huge relief.
“Are you both ready?” Mr. Aso asked, also smiling.
“Are you ready, young Ishida?” Principal Satō asked, eyes twinkling with amusement.
He felt a shiver as he smiled in the direction of Mr. Aso and the camera but dismissed it as nerves.
“Yes!”
Mr. Aso counted out to three and then ordered, “Smiiiile.”
Afterwards, he approached Mr. Aso.
Again, feeling a little shiver.
He was probably just nervous. He wanted to make a good impression that was why he asked if Mr. Aso would like to take a picture, too.
He didn’t want to seem like he only cared about the principal.
It was important to have a good rapport with all the adults at a school.
But then the bell rang.
“Oh…”
“It’s alright, Ishida. I’m sure we’ll have another chance,” the teacher said.
“Okay. Yes. Um.” He pulled out the paper that had his class schedule on it. “Would you mind directing me to where Bashō Hall is? Mrs. Yokoyama is my homeroom teacher.”
The adults stared.
Uryū fidgeted. “I'm sorry. Am I mispronouncing her name?”
He hated when people misunderstood his.
“No. She passed. Medical emergency,” Mr. Satō explained.
Uryū blinked. A slew of funerals flashed through his mind’s eyes. So many graves. He shivered.
“It was quite sudden. There was an email newsletter. There’s been some rearrangement. A new class schedule should’ve been sent to your parents.”
“…Oh. I’m s-sorry to hear that… I didn’t know…”
“They didn’t check,” Mr. Aso guessed. He was younger, closer to Uryū’s dad’s age. “Your parents? They don’t regularly check their email? We had to rearrange and expand class sizes to accommodate—”
Dad… once again leaving him in the lurch.
Because he couldn’t be bothered to do the tiniest thing for him like check his emails.
His brows furrowed and he bit his lip.
He would’ve shown up in the wrong place and then wandered around like an idiot.
Why couldn’t Dad care about him?
“Now, now,” the principal assured. “We’ll get this straightened out.”
He nodded.
“Ishida…” Mr. Aso sucked his teeth. “I think he might be in my homeroom, I know I have two ‘I’ surnames but…I’d have to double-check. I’ll head to my classroom now and check.”
“Not to worry. Here, Ishida, we’ll go by my office in the administrative wing,” Mr. Satō offered. “I can look up all the students here and print off a new class schedule just for you and get your locker number. Then we can visit the getabako, you can switch out your shoes and I’ll drop you off at your class.”
“Thank you very much,” Uryū mumbled. “I’m sorry for the mixup.”
They both assured him that everything was alright and they’d get the matter handled.
They said they didn’t want him to worry anymore about it. In fact, it was lucky that it had worked out this way.
Their spirit ribbons were steady—that meant they weren’t just lying and saying that. They weren’t secretly annoyed with him or anything—the way Dad often was whenever he needed anything.
It was sad when strangers cared more about you than your own dad.
Oh well.
Nothing he could do about that.