Chapter Text
Uryū’s door slammed open and he couldn’t help the startled yelp that escaped him as he woke.
He bolted upright in bed and hastily tried to summon his bow; only there was a gruff “sorry” as the lights were switched on.
“D-d-dad?” What the hell?!
Half-a-beat later Ichigo appeared, panting, “I’m sorry! I didn’t know! I wouldn’t have said anything. I thought everybody knew! Like me and my mom—”
“OUT!” His father thundered, pushing the orange haired teenager from the room and shutting the door.
Ryūken locked it.
More as a sign to the Kurosaki beyond it to respect the barrier than because a door could actually stop him.
Ryūken was breathing heavily. He turned to look at Uryū.
“W-what’s going on, Dad?” He tried to grab his glasses from his bedside table and knocked them to the floor instead. “Oops.”
His father held a hand up, signaling him to stay where he was. He knelt to pick up the glasses. He wiped them with a cloth from his pocket. Then he very gently set them on Uryū’s face, like he was still a little kid.
Very gently.
He could almost hear the “That’s better, isn’t it? Now, hold my hand and stay under the umbrella. Your glasses won’t get so dirty, my little Ryū.”
“Rain dragons shouldn’t need glasses. ‘Specially if they just-just get blurry.”
“Especially.”
“Especially,” he parroted back the correction.
“That’s a big word.”
“I’m a smart boy.”
Dad smiled lightly. “You certainly are.”
It should’ve angered him, such sudden tenderness out of nowhere. Maybe Ichigo had a point and he was acting pathetic? And all because he was being treated kindly? But Ichigo had tons of people who treated him well, but… but…his heart twisted… couldn’t Uryū have one person? He’d lost so many.
His father sat down heavily beside him.
“Dad?”
“You… you saw…” Dad pinched the bridge of his nose. Then his hand fell down to cover his mouth for a moment as he stared up at the ceiling. “You saw him go down.”
It wasn’t a question.
“…”
His eyes slid to glance at him. There was something like horror and pain and shock in them. His hand dropped.
“You saw Grandpa die.”
“…” It was the last thing Uryū wanted to talk about tonight. This morning. Whenever the hell this was.
“Uryū?”
“…” His mouth went dry.
“Uryū?”
He broke into a cold sweat. He couldn’t do this. He also couldn’t afford to run. He wasn’t absolutely certain his hirenkyaku was faster. There was also a likely chance that if he used blut arterie to break down the door to leave and somehow evaded Ryūken, he’d just have to contend with Ichigo next.
He had to play it down. “I…I can’t… do this right now. I-I have… I have s-school and I need t-to sleep so I can d-do my best.”
He squinted at the clock. He needed three more hours of rest if he was going to be of any use.
“No, we are going to see Tessai as soon as he allows us there. Then we’ll meet with Dr. Jibiki.”
“…”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“…”
“Uryū?”
His throat grew tight. “…I-I’m sorry... I didn’t save him.”
“Of course you couldn’t save him. You were a child.”
He nodded. “I know-knew-the smart thing to do was to wait it out. S-so I waited it out.”
“Smart boy.”
“B-but Dad, I-I didn’t… even try to save him. I’m sorry.”
“No. He was a grown man. That was the fate he chose—”
“He chose not to use hirenkyaku when he realized he was going to lose. B-because it would leave me—”
“To the Hollows.”
“I’m sorr-”
“No! No, he brought you there. He put you in that danger. If you’d died there, if he’d abandoned you, I would-I would, Uryū, I would-” His hands clenched violently. “NEVER forgive him. I could never—”
“That’s your father.”
“You’re my son.”
Uryū took an unsteady breath and talked about the Shinigami involved.
“They delayed… on purpose, Dad. They were aware of his shepherding tactic. Dad, there’s… there’s this Captain… The eleventh squad. He… he experiments on Quincy souls.”
At 7:15 am, there was a single knock on Uryū’s door: Ichigo.
“What is it?” Ryūken answered softly. He hadn’t slept at all since the revelation that Sōken’s soul had literally been tortured after death to… whatever came after that.
His son’s semi-hysterical questions of if a ‘Quincy’s soul dies, is that the same as Soul Suicide?’ kept circling in his head.
And he had no answers and no real comfort to give besides patting his son’s back and smoothing his hair which was messy from sleep.
Uryū was understandably worried about Sōken and Kanae and the others of their household being subjected to that fate.
Kanae…
Father…
Mother…
It was devastating to contemplate that there may be no post-death reunion for their entire family in a separate division of the heavens.
He wondered abruptly if Isshin was quietly aghast at the prospect of his children being separated from him upon death—possibly being routed to stand with the Quincies and not the Soul Reapers, leaving him to potentially mourn their absences for centuries. Which was why he made himself ridiculously affectionate… because the time they had together might be short.
Life was short.
Ryūken had always hoped he and his wife would be reunited…
That together they’d get to wait for their son to join them after he led a long, fulfilling life.
The doom of being a Quincy continued to reverberate.
“I’m heading to school,” Ichigo said. “Is Uryū coming?”
“No,” he replied.
“Why?”
“He’s resting.” From the looks of his son’s fluttering eyelids, he was in the REM phase of sleep.
“Is he… coming to school today?”
Ryūken’s eyebrow twitched. “No, he’s resting.”
Uryū was volatile on a good day.
This was going to be a trying day.
The last thing he wanted to do was send his emotionally fragile son to the adolescent cesspit of mercurial energies that was high school.
He’d go off like pure nitroglycerin at the slightest jostle. If his feelings veered into sorrow, he might have an upsurge of grief in public. If he entered a fury, he might confront Sasahara.
Because Uryū flip flopped between those responses, he did not deserve the possibility of others bullying him for a lack of composure.
Not about this.
And these dramatic responses were making more sense to him all the time.
The sorrow was probably a more genuine manifestation of what Uryū was experiencing.
The rage was a defense mechanism. He needed to talk more to Uryū’s doctors about depression presenting as anger.
“…Will I be able to leave or will I need to jump the gate?” Ichigo asked.
“If you could sense others more adeptly, you’d know that Juri and Hikari are here. They’ll help you,” Ryūken replied tersely. “They have access codes and cards.”
“Fine.” His nephew walked away.
He sighed. His nephew probably didn’t deserve that parting jibe but… he was so exhausted.
And they were very lucky Yhwach hadn’t seized the opportunity.
He glanced down. His son, while unconscious, had him in a tight hug.
His grief and desperation was palpable. He did not want to lose his last family member. On that, at least, they agreed.
And for that reason, Uryū had to come first. Even if that meant Ryūken came off badly to Ichigo and that was unfortunate because it felt like a disservice to Masaki.
He sighed and smoothed the blankets around him.
Urahara had made some allusions to the Gotei 13’s experiments involving Quincies.
He’d even made mention of Uryū using Letzt Stil against a captain.
He didn’t explain the relevance, how Sōken tied into it.
Tortured. His father’s soul was tortured. And while being tortured, he revealed a student.
Only the cruelest methods could have extracted that kind of information from him—Sōken wouldn’t have voluntarily exposed his grandson. Though, Mayuri might’ve already researched the man in his efforts to trap him. After all, he’d set Sōken up to die by purposely delaying Soul Reapers from arriving in time. So, they’d known about his proclivity to shepherd Hollows, rather than eliminate them.
And they used that information, his misguided mercy, and still killed him—proving that Shinigami were apathetic at best and generally as horrible as Uryū believed.
No. Up until that moment, Uryu had entertained Sōken’s ideals about working together.
He witnessed this cruelty and decided for himself that…
He wasn’t just blaming them for failing to save Sōken. He hated them for setting him up.
Though in time, he came to judge them on a case by case basis.
Uryū had killed Shutara of Squad Zero.
For the Quincies.
That… hadn’t just been him following Yhwach’s orders.
His thoughts swam.
Sōken had revealed having a student…
Perhaps Mayuri mentioning Ryūken wasn’t as psychologically painful as taunting that he was going to capture Uryū next?
His teeth gnashed together.
Carrying a photo of the soul he considered a specimen?!
Too damn convenient. Mayuri had already guessed their relation.
Ryūken had demanded a description of it, because he deserved to know as Sōken’s son. It took a lot from Uryū to relay it to him.
And his son hadn’t ended the bastard, just defeated him and lost his powers in the process. Goddamned Pyrrhic victory.
Still. He survived. Not killing him was probably why he was released from the Sereitei.
He exhaled a harsh breath.
The Gotei 13 had likely still sanctioned the murder and torture of Quincies for science. Great.
A Quincy soul could be captured before passing on.
Why had Sōken lingered? Had there been a choice? From what he understood, their kind could usually pass on unassisted. Except this Mayuri had captured countless Quincies.
Was it a complication of Auswählen? Yhwach stealing so much energy made them unable to cross over instinctively?
No.
He wasn’t targeted.
Wait.
Echts who died were fully drained by the Emperor at the moment of death?
Why? Why was he unable to pass? Weighed down? Was it a choice? Did he delay because Uryū was still there? Was he hoping to guard him until Ryūken could make it to the park?
Damn it.
None of the Quincies had shown formidable powers to Mayuri. Did Quincy powers remain with a soul or return to Yhwach upon death?
He didn’t know. When a fragment returned, was it all power? Or a piece? He’d already guessed some extent of memory was passed along, too. That’s how Yhwach learned about Uryū.
Everything Uryū told him about the captain was awful.
His softhearted child had been horrified. This was the same leader who’d killed his own subordinates to set a trap (by implanting explosives inside of them and detonating them when they were within a close enough range).
It sounded like Mayuri got off on sadism and gloating.
Apparently, he’d delighted in sharing how he’d devised sickening scenarios where he had compelled parents to burn their own children.
And Ryūken could believe it:
Parents wanting to spare their children from further suffering would do it.
The surgeries he’d performed on his own child was adjacent to that thought process—dying under loving hands was better than the alternative.
Even as he acknowledged that, he shuddered at the idea, fundamentally repulsed… and condemned.
Because…
“I would do… anything… for you…”
His sight blurred for a moment as he swore his soul was damned.
Uryū burrowed into his chest and shuddered.
Ryūken took a shaky breath and forced himself to offer a calming “Shhh. Shhhhh.”
Perhaps it was for both of them?
Fatherhood really was a selfish pursuit.
Kanae’s solemn words haunted him: “…I will have brought him into this world and abandoned him…”
Logic said he should regret bringing Uryū into this mess when he’d known exactly how difficult being a Quincy was.
He was just too selfish. Too arrogant.
That photo on his desk…
His wife. Their child. His beautiful family.
He’d been so happy as he took it.
He was already plotting what he’d need to do to make their afterlife safer.
Perhaps he could set up some kind of spell trap?
Uryū shuddered again.
“It will be alright.”
Death was not salvation. Not for Quincies.
Life was perilous, too.
“It will be alright.”
He had to try and keep them both alive for as long as possible until he could figure something out.
It should’ve made him despair but… the same determination that made him pit himself against a mad demigod began to flare once more.
“It will be alright. I will make it so.”
Uryū slowly came to as a slant of warm morning light fell over his face.
He felt almost oddly rested for just… what? Two or three hours of sleep? Maybe it had been cathartic to finally tell Dad about… Sens…Grandpa?
Speaking of him, Dad was snoring lightly beside him.
He was surprised Dad had stayed. He looked rough from traveling.
Uryū considered the timeframe: He must’ve met the Haradas and then immediately left for home.
Yeah. The Haradas could have that effect on people.
His father’s business suit was all rumpled. The collar was unbuttoned and his tie was loose. His glasses were askew, he’d forgotten to take them off.
Uryū should just get up, get ready for school, and ask Hikari to drive him and Ichigo. Or maybe just him if Ichigo was still being annoying.
He glanced at his clock. He blinked, squinted, leaned in and read: 11:02 AM.
He gasped and jolted upright.
“Wha’s wrong? What is it?” Dad slurred. “Are you alright?” His hands clumsily checked Uryū over for injuries. “Are you hur-?”
“Dad! I’m super late for school! Can you write me a note?”
His dad made a derisive sound and flopped backwards back onto the bed. “School? No. We’re going to Urahara’s. You can talk to Tessai about Grandpa. Afterwards, I have an appointment with Dr. Jibiki. I’ll ask if you can join.”
Wait a minute.
“You have a solo meeting scheduled?!” He gasped, jaw dropping.
“You don’t have to sound so shocked.”
“I just… figured… I was the only one who needed—”
“Guidance? I’m not so arrogant that I can't take good advice when I need it.”
“…Yeah?” His track record sort of said otherwise.
“…I can’t ask my parents for their insights. If only to disagree with them and chart my course that way.”
Dad was trying to be relatable. That felt… weird.
“…”
“I trust Dr. Jibiki.”
Truth.
“He’ll help us through… this. Though, we need to come to an agreement on how we frame the… situation.”
Uryū frowned. “What do you mean?”
“His injuries.”
“…”
“I had it listed as an animal attack.”
“O-oh.”
“I-I can’t remember if I told you that. I meant to. I… I was worried you might mention it by accident. If it was animals and you referred to the attack like it was committed by monsters, anyone who overheard would understand. You were young.”
“…Oh.” That made sense.
“Hollows are beasts. It’s not much of a stretch,” he muttered bitterly.
“Right.” It made sense only…
“What’s wrong?”
“I just sound like an even bigger coward in that scenario. If it was just wild dogs that hurt Sens—”
“Feral dogs are incredibly dangerous!” Ryūken argued, sitting up. “The elderly and the young are very vulnerable. A bad bite that causes hemorrhaging can be fatal. And for those that survive the initial encounter, there’s rabies and sepsis-”
“Okay, okay. Good to know if it had been something as mundane as that, you still wouldn’t have been angry at me-”
“Of course not!”
He blinked.
His father’s expression was severe. “You were very small. A large dog could have injured you terribly. Damn it. A large dog could hurt you now. It’s not just Hollows and humans that are dangerous. You have to stay vigilant about your surroundings. Your environment can house multiple dangers, not all of which are flashy. I still can’t believe you went to that sketchy park to hide comic books at thirteen. Creeks have all kinds of wildlife and harmful bacteria. Birds can carry multiple diseases—”
Uryū indulged the tangent for three full minutes, but when Dad started going off about drug dealers and needles, he said, “Okay, Dad. Glad my primary physician can be called on even for the most boring life stuff.”
“That’s literally the point. That’s why checkups or even check-ins are important. They build a rapport so whenever there is a situation of concern, you can feel comfortable sharing it—”
“My neck has been sore since I slept over at the Kurosakis,” he confided.
Dad immediately went into doctor mode, checking and double-checking his lymph nodes, his neck, and even his jaw and temples. As well as asking him questions about his range of motion and when he first noticed it.
“It’s tension,” he diagnosed. “You’ve been stressed.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t think it was meningococcal,” he joked.
“…”
“Dad?”
“That’s a very real danger, even if the incidence of it here is very low,” he said tightly. “Do not make light of it. Your European heritage could make you more susceptible. It depends on genetic factors. There’s viral and bacterial strains. Just… don’t share drinks with your friends or cousins. And know that if you do want to travel abroad to celebrate your graduation, I am mandating that you will get all the necessary vaccines first. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How long did you plan to keep this knowledge to yourself?” Ryūken demanded in a low voice, arms crossed.
Urahara shrugged somewhat apologetically. “Look, we kind of overheard it in the park. Didn’t have the relationship to discuss it with young Ishida back then.”
“With me? You couldn’t discuss it with me?!”
“It was kind of a toss up over whether you knew. Guess I lost the bet.” Urahara sighed. “Anyways, I doubt you’re here just to scold me. What are you really after?”
True.
“Is… is that day… in his files?” He needed to confirm just how long Yhwach had been fixated on his child.
“…Let's take a look.”
An hour passed.
Uryū checked in once, glancing at the screen and, somehow instinctively knowing those data files—
“From Yhwach?” He asked.
“Yeah,” Urahara answered nonchalantly.
His frowned. “Hm. What kinds of files?”
“All kinds.”
“Video?”
“Yeah.”
Uryū blinked, looked away, and then back at the shopkeeper. “Have you… had to sit through one of his speeches yet?”
Urahara snickered. “Maybe a few?”
Uryū was quiet for a beat and then went, “‘My children! My heart bleeds for your suffering. It is time to avenge ourselves. It is time to stand and act. Let us seize back what was stolen from us. Too long we have waited in the shadows, it is our time now to stride forth to reclaim our place in the light! Restore our world! Renew our sacred vows to the arcane! The dawn of a new day rises and with it our new realm!’”
Uryū broke off and grinned. He meant it in jest, but it was too eerie.
Urahara continued smiling but he was pale.
Ryūken struggled to think.
Tessai clapped his hands on Uryū’s shoulders. “What an impression?” He then suggested touring the candy aisle for Karakura High School’s Winter Festival. “It’ll give our business a reason to attend which could be important.”
“Oh! That’s a good idea. By the way, did Yoruichi find out more?” Uryū asked urgently. “We missed her the other night. Does she like ice cream? I mean, cats like cream, right? And she’s sort of… but I’ve never actually had a cat so I’m not sure if that’s just a cliché—”
“Yes, she does. And yes, Sasahara has been spending more time in the greenhouse at her home as well. It’s very suspicious.”
“Does it match up with any of her assignments or extracurriculars? Horticulture doesn’t seem like a hobby that lines up well with acrylic nails.”
The two approached the ladder leading back up to the shop.
Seeing Uryū about to use a reishi board and having shaken himself free of the paralyzing shock of hearing a tyrant’s tirade using his son as a mouthpiece mere minutes earlier, Ryūken ordered, “Climb the ladder, Uryū! We need to start an exercise regiment for you.”
Uryū swiveled so abruptly, he half-tripped. “Huh?!”
“If you are ever attacked by humans again, I want you to be ready. With or without powers.”
“Oh… Uhhh, okay.”
He wasn’t very fast up the ladder.
And he abruptly remembered watching Uryū struggle in the Dangai after being warned not to get caught in the current or to use his powers.
They could work on that.
It was odd because in the videos of his thirteen-year-old, he was very athletic—
Then again, he had been in an intense accident and, while he healed up, he was never quite as coordinated as he had been which Ryūken had initially dismissed as a symptom of puberty and rapidly gaining height.
But then, Yhwach had addressed it with chiropractic and reishi-based readjustments.
But Uryū still… lacked some of the endurance? That he’d had before?
It had taken him a while to tire Uryū out to restore his powers but… that had been intense adrenaline and anger fueling him.
This was about average endurance on a regular day.
They could definitely work on that.
When they were alone, Urahara gave him a sidelong glance. “That was probably your best chance to come clean.”
It probably was.
“I’m just… not ready. Not with… this one. I… I don’t want him to have to… relive it by watching.” Maybe someday soon but not now.
“Hm. That speech was creepy. Think he heard it? Or made it up on the spot?” Urahara’s eyes were serious.
“…”
“He was good at emulating you and your father.”
And now he could emulate Yhwach.
He didn’t like thinking a part of Uryū’s subconscious could now speak under a guise like that.
It was strange to suddenly wish it was just Ryūken and Sōken competing to shape that psyche again.
When the file was located and played, it was every bit as awful as he imagined.
It should have been a normal summer day.
His nine-year-old was sitting, peering out from beside a tree, staring vacantly, almost unblinkingly. All the color had drained from his face.
The elementary schooler slowly reached over for his backpack and pulled it over. He slung it across his back before standing up from his hiding place in the bushes.
It was so fortunate that there’d been some cover and he’d had the sensibility to hide. His survival instincts had likely helped him conceal his energy to an extent, which was why Ryūken hadn’t sensed him there.
If he’d been slain alongside his grandfather…
Ryūken’s hands clenched. His ears rang.
If there had been two body bags brought to the morgue…
The modern backpack clashed with the archaic style of Quincy uniform that Sōken had championed after his departure and complete rejection of the Wandenreich.
It was the little details that hurt: the cat charm clip holding the bag for his son’s lunch and snacks, the way his shoes were double-knotted and the blue crosses on them were slightly crooked, the unsteadiness of his footsteps across uneven plant roots because Ryūken didn’t like letting him wander through uncultivated stretches of greenery.
It was all proof of how young and sheltered he was. As it was supposed to be. There was plenty of time to grow up and be jaded. His childhood should’ve been safeguarded by his remaining family members, but Sōken had never… never…
And then…
Uryū’s eyebrows were furrowed together. His mouth was pressed in a grim line. It was a very serious expression for someone his age.
He moved carefully forward, edging around the foliage and moving out into the clearing until he was standing beside… the body of Sōken Ishida.
Uryū stared down.
Blood darkened the grass.
Flies were buzzing.
He moved the brown cloak that Sōken so often wore to cover him, careful not to touch the damp spots where blood—
Ryūken couldn’t help a sharp intake of breath and shook his head.
Uryū had alluded to this in the parking lot outside of Yutani’s office:
“Dirt. Grass. Crunch. Crack. Snap. Blood.”
“Hot. Muggy.”
“Damn it.”
Uryū’s hands tightened around the straps of his backpack until it looked painful. His voice wavered, “…I… I’m… sorry, Sensei… I… I have to… go to cram school now.”
He bowed deeply and left.
He left the park. He continued on, following the sidewalk in a dejected state repeating to himself: “Why did you have… to die like that?”
In the hotel in Kyoto, he’d said: “Why did Grandpa have to die like that? I couldn’t do anything.”
When he approached a store, he entered and went to the clerk.
“E-excuse me, sir… I-I have to… report…” His voice was even more fragile.
The man, a youth in his twenties, took one look at the child and immediately scanned around for a threat.
The clerk walked around the counter and knelt down. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Uryū’s mouth quivered. “There’s… a dead man in the p-park.”
“What?!”
“C-can we r-report it with your phone, please? B-before all the bugs…” He gagged slightly and then recovered. “He deserves… better…”
The man called it in. “N-no, a customer came in to report it.” He looked across the counter at Uryū who was trembling. “Nah, he… he’s already gone.” He discreetly shooed Uryū away—implying he’d take care of it. “Yeah, I’m about to check it out myself. Gotta close up the shop first though.”
Uryū left the store and continued to cram school. He went to the boy’s restroom and exited in his school uniform once more, though he forgot to change his shoes.
His eyes were puffy and bloodshot.
When he entered the classroom, the instructor immediately scolded him in front of the class, “You’re very late, Ishida. That’s disrespectful to me.”
He nodded, bowed, and apologized to him.
It wasn’t enough: “You’ve disrespected your peers. How are they supposed to learn in an environment where basic expectation of timeliness and courted are disregarded?”
Uryū took a deep breath and apologized to the class in a quaking voice for being disruptive, and tried to take a discreet seat in the corner.
“Oh no, you don’t. You come up here,” the instructor ordered.
“…” The child moved forward.
The man glowered down at him. “Don’t think just because your father is a respected member of this community that you are exempt from following rules.”
“Y-yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. Is there a test I c-can do to catch up?”
His lips thinned. “Just because you’re a strong test taker, that doesn’t excuse you from having to participate in the full course we offer here.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“What’s your excuse for your tardiness?”
“I… just d-don’t feel good.”
“Do you have a cold? I can offer you a mask.”
“No.” He looked away. “My tummy just…feels… bad…”
“You probably filled up on snacks instead of coming here on time.”
“No-”
“Don’t contradict me, young man.”
“I just feel nause—”
The man was abrading him again, this time for insolence, when Uryū vomited across the man’s shoes.
There were some gasps and snickers from his peers.
“S-sorry, sir.”
He was escorted by another peer to the organization’s nurse’s office.
“And then Ishida threw up all over him!” The other little boy told the nurse excitedly.
It was no wonder why Uryū hated cram school now.
The woman winced. “I’m sorry to hear that. You were probably in the restroom before you went to class, hoping to feel better. Hm? Ishida?”
He wrapped his arms around himself. “…Yeah.”
“Here.” She opened a binder of student records. “We can call your Dad to pick you up-”
“No! Please! Don’t tell him. I just… wasn’t feeling good. I’ll finish my work. I just need today’s packet. I can do it here, can’t I? Please don’t—he’ll be mad. He gets mad at me for everything lately. This-this-I can’t—not today—I-Please!”
Ryūken stared hard at the screen.
His heart sank. He should’ve been the first to be called in that convenience store. The idea of his father arriving in a moment of crisis should’ve brought instant reassurance: when did it happen?
“Your father’s a doctor. All the more reason for him to-”
“Please! No-” He started to throw up again.
When had his child stopped believing in him?
The nurse immediately handed him a bin while dismissing the other student to return to class, who was overly interested in the drama.
“Well, there’s only two hours left anyway, so I don’t see why you can’t just finish them here,” she reasoned.
“T-thank you.”
A half hour after the session ended, a harried looking Juri arrived to pick up Uryū.
“There you are. I’m so sorry. There was a-a situation.” He looked distractedly at the nurse. “I just learned that he needed to be brought home and I-”
“Young Ishida was ill earlier.”
“He was? Sometimes children just know,” he muttered.
“What?” The woman frowned.
He shook his head and moved forward. “Hello there, Young Master. I’m so sorry you had to wait and that you’re not feeling well. I’ll drive you home now and I’ll get you something soothing to eat. Thank you for being patient.”
Uryū stared. “…”
“I’m sure your father will be home as soon as possible.”
“He’s… not at home?” He sounded hopeful.
“Not yet.”
“…Oh.” His shoulders sagged in relief.
“Unless, would you like to call him?”
“No. No, it’s okay.”
He’d thought it was thirteen. Maybe after the accident?
Or after Sōken died?
But maybe it was the autopsy? Or letting Kanae die in the first place?
Was that when he’d fallen from grace in his son’s eyes?
The following video started midway through Sōken’s wake.
Uryū was on the floor bawling, making an absolute scene with his sorrow.
“It just hits sometimes. The grief.
He remembered this. He’d had to remove him from the situation, taking him to a quiet room to recover his wits.
He picked his son up and tucked him against his shoulder more to smother the noise than out of affection.
He still felt shame over that. Though the sound was starting to give him a headache even now, years later—a reaction to the helplessness he felt when he knew there was nothing he could do to soothe his child. Again.
He carried him to an empty room and set him down hard on his feet.
Uryū stumbled and Ryūken caught him by the upper arms.
“Being so noisy. What’s wrong with you?!” He hissed. “You know by now how these are supposed to go.”
Uryū wailed harder. He reached and twisted his fingers into the fabric of his father’s sleeves.
“You stop it. You stop it. Right. Now.”
What was happening?
Who was that? That couldn’t be him. Yes, he remembered being stressed beyond all reason to his final nerve but he didn’t remember this?! No. He remembered expressing some frustration and disappointment but… was that really what he’d said?
Uryū continued to cry hysterically.
“I said stop it.” He gave him one hard shake.
The boy’s mouth snapped shut and he stopped crying.
“Better.”
His jaw dropped. What the hell was he doing?! He’d reported parents at the hospital for behavior like that.
“…” Uryū stared up at him. Unblinkingly. Totally silent. Totally still.
It was the look he’d had as Dr. Yutani yelled at him in the waiting room. It was the look he’d made moments ago in the previous video as he stared down at Sōken’s body.
And he was making it now in the face of his father’s emotional instability.
He wasn’t even breathing. He was holding his breath out of fear.
Freeze response.
It had kept him alive the other day as the Hollows attacked and was now part of his repertoire for responses.
“You compose yourself,” Ryūken hissed… to his little nine-year-old who had lost his mother the previous year along with almost everyone he’d ever known. And now his grandfather was gone and he was acting out because his world was even more upside down.
Ryūken’s pager went off.
He cursed and turned, abruptly releasing his son and inadvertently letting him stumble into the wall because he was off balance.
Ryūken checked the pager and left the room. No backward glances.
Uryū made no sound as he slowly slid against the wall and to the floor.
He then continued his descent and sprawled out gently against the floor.
He rolled over to stare up at the ceiling.
It was the same expression he’d worn in Yhwach’s library: Defeated.
He breathed softly. In. Out. In. Out. It hitched at times, but he didn’t cry.
He was trying to do as asked and compose himself.
His father returned. “The floor? You decided to lie on the floor? Great. You’re probably filthy now.”
Uryū held his breath again, like he was an animal trying to play dead to escape a predator.
It was never supposed to be like that between them, they were—he abruptly remembered the training session necessary to restore his powers—the cat and mouse dynamic that had been at play. Yes, Uryū had been afraid of him then but—
“Get up.”
The child tried, but he was lightheaded and wobbly.
Had he even eaten that day? That whole week was such a blur. He’d left so much to Juri—
Ryūken hefted him up under the arms, set him on his feet, grabbed him by one hand, and pulled him from the room.
He was moving too fast for his child. “Stop dragging your feet! We’re running late because of you.”
Lies.
He’d just answered a call for work. That was the real reason they were behind schedule—
Ryūken gasped as his younger self very nearly pulled Uryū off the steps separating a floor division of the room.
Could’ve sprained his ankles. Only luck helped Uryū keep his balance.
Uryū gave him a hollow look of shock. He’d never been handled so roughly in his life, certainly never by his parents who’d always adored him.
When they were near the door, Ryūken snatched the smaller of two umbrellas and shoved it into Uryū’s hold. He began angrily instructing Uryū not to embarrass him again as he wrapped up the event.
He took the larger umbrella for himself and heaved open the door so they could walk the short way between this building and where the reception was.
The first hard gust wrenched the child-sized umbrella from Uryū and blew it away and into the dark.
“Why are you doing this to me today?! Can’t you do this simple thing?”
Damn it. He sounded like his mother in one of her fits.
He gave Uryū his umbrella.
Uryū held it with both hands like his life depended on it.
Which also conveniently meant he didn’t have to hold his father’s hand this time.
“Don’t you dare fall behind.”
He didn’t.
He was “composed” through the farewells of the event and handed off to Juri while Ryūken went to handle Sōken’s cremation.
Another video started.
It was after Sōken’s remains had just been interred in the family plot.
A quieter ceremony with just Ryūken, Uryū, and the cemetery’s staff.
Once it was just the two remaining Ishidas there, Uryū began to cry at Sōken’s grave.
It started soft but grew into loud, unabashed grief that was too reminiscent of Kanae’s funeral.
He saw his younger self pinching the bridge of his nose in agitation at the migraine it was triggering.
“I need to take a call,” He lied and went off to gather his sanity.
Uryū had ended up wandering away while his father was taking a smoke break.
Ryūken remembered the cold flash of panic he’d felt back then.
When Uryū was sure he was alone, he choked out, “I miss you, Sensei. I’m trying to be good like you’d want and become a proud Quincy like we talked about but… it’s hard. Everything’s hard. Even harder now. Without Mom. Without you. I’m sorry I didn’t do m-more.” He rubbed his runny nose on his sleeve. “I should’ve been braver. Maybe…it wouldn’t have changed things… but… at least… you wouldn’t have been alone.”
Ryūken felt a chill. That was an incredibly dark and uncomfortably mature line of reasoning for a child.
And he missed it and it got to fester.
“Why did you have to die like that?” His young voice cracked.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” a young woman’s voice announced.
Urahara swore. “That’s Meninas.”
“Who?” He asked distractedly, far more concerned with his child than the stranger on the screen.
Or at least until Urahara said, “She’s a Sternritter.”