Chapter 1
Notes:
Disclaimer: I don’t own Bleach.
Note: Here we go, Team. I whipped this chap up today. Hope you enjoy.
This fic, while set in the same universe as the others, doesn’t require any additional reading. It just adds more depth for those that want it. It can be enjoyed on its own.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
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.
Notes:
Thank you for reading!
Kudos and comments are 💖🎉🩵
Hope you enjoy this adventure! 😎
Chapter 2
Notes:
Disclaimer: I don’t own Bleach
Note: Thanks for reading! I’ve written rough draft chaps of Protector up to Chap. 20 but needed some more play room for certain ideas which is why I’m dabbling here (I just started ch. 4 of Adv!). Hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It turned out that Uryū’s homeroom teacher was Mr. Aso.
“Hey Ishida, long time no see,” the teacher greeted warmly with a wink.
It should’ve been reassuring.
Introductions were made.
Each student said their name and what they hoped to get out of their time at the academy.
Some of them already knew what they, or their family, wanted as their career goal.
He missed being like that. So comfortably certain.
He’d wanted to be a doctor but…
“That’s Mom, isn’t it?”
Not anymore.
He’d also wanted to be an astronaut but orthostatic hypotension was a risk of space travel and he already had low blood pressure to begin with so that likely disqualified him.
When he’d brought that up to his dad because he wanted a medical professional’s perspective, Ryūken had agreed that Uryū wouldn’t pass the health metrics necessary to be an astronaut—it was a very selective screening process.
He’d spent the rest of that afternoon shut up in his room crying because two of his dreams were ruined.
Just like that.
It was official. He’d never be a doctor or an astronaut.
And he’d been warned repeatedly that being a Quincy wouldn’t cover the bills.
Except the Ishidas were wealthy.
Why did Uryū have to have a job? Why couldn’t he be a scholar? Or an artist?
Guess this was Dad’s way of telling him: “Hn. Don’t expect a cushy inheritance.”
He had to figure out something. But what?
And now it was his turn.
Great.
He was going to have to wing this. He channeled all the medical conferences he’d been forced to attend throughout his life.
“Hello everyone, I’m Uryū Ishida. I look forward to learning this year and striving towards personal excellence. I think there’s always room for improvement and hope this will be an important year for us all. Thank you.”
When he sat down, he was expecting the same smattering of polite slightly disinterested applause that his peers had received, instead—
There were whispers and then someone said, “Hāfu.”
“Yes!”
“His eyes!”
“So weird.”
Mr. Aso frowned. “Not weird. Different. It’s genetics. Two parents can carry a recessive allele.”
“Defect” someone whispered.
“Both of my parents have blue eyes,” Uryū stated.
“Hāfusss.”
There were more snickers.
“My dad is Director Ishida of Karakura General Hospital,” Uryū said heatedly. “He’s been awarded repeatedly as one of the best cardiac surgeons in Japan. People who are lucky enough to get on his list for an operation they need, don’t care about his eye color. That would be silly.”
Plus, his eyes were pretty negligible. It was the shock of white hair that usually made people stare.
The P. E. Teacher, Mr. Hayashi, arrived then before things could spiral more.
He was gruff as he outlined his expectations for the day.
The other students were filing out of the room when—
“Ishida?” Mr. Aso called. “A word?”
He approached the teacher’s desk visibly contrite. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Aso. I made a scene.”
“No, Ishida. What I want to show you is this.” He turned a picture frame on his desk around.
It was a woman with bright blue eyes.
“Oh!”
“My wife.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Hm.”
“Does… does she visit?”
The man blinked in confusion.
“It’s just…” Uryū fidgeted. “Just… it’s nice when people like me see other people…like us…”
Technically, he saw his dad and his dad had blue eyes but…
Mrs. Aso looked way friendlier than Ryūken.
He always thought his dad looked a bit like a snowman with his blasé expression, cold demeanor, and white hair.
Dr. Snowman…
“You’re not strange, Uryū.”
He blinked. He hadn’t called himself ‘strange.’
“You’re just different.” Aso was trying to be nice, but he seemed oddly… aware of him in a way he hadn’t been that morning.
Had he not noticed his eyes when they first met?
He glanced at the mug on his teacher’s desk.
Perhaps, he’d needed coffee to pick up on the detail?
Medical workers practically worshipped the beverage.
“Besides,” Aso added a little conspiratorially, “you know those other kids?”
“Yeah?”
“They’re just jealous. People who aren’t extraordinary have to band together against those who are.”
“I’m a threat?” He murmured skeptically.
“Mhm. Anyways, you should hurry to P.E. Here, I’ll write you a note excusing you so you won’t be marked down for being late.” He pulled a small pad of paper out and a neat silver fountain pen.
“Thank you, sir.”
Uryū felt he was fairly athletic. He just… wasn’t Spartan robust.
“Ishida?”
“Yes, sir?”
“There’s a note in your record. You’ve got hypotension?”
“Y-yes.”
The other kids started talking behind their hands.
“Stand over there in the shade.”
There were giggles about him being “fragile.”
He hated being singled out for this, but Dad didn’t like him taking risks where his health was concerned.
He’d be furious if he knew Uryū had started Hollow-hunting.
Though, it might’ve been generous to call it hunting.
At this point, he only had four kills to his name.
One at ten. Two at eleven. One last January.
It was kind of pathetic really.
His first mission had been such a fiasco, he made sure to be really well set up for the next three.
He improved his archery skills and always made sure he knew the area he wanted to hunt in and that it had lots of cover.
Like right now, there were three different Hollows causing trouble in Karakura.
Two of them were in the downtown area. It would be unwise to pursue them as he wasn’t very familiar with that part of the city yet. Hollow-hunting was risky enough without setting himself up for failure. He abruptly envisioned himself falling down an open manhole at a construction site while being chased by a Hollow because he was out of his depth.
Mr. Hayashi seemed annoyed as they watched the other kids run a few laps. He set a bottle of water down next to Uryū with a hard thunk.
“Thank you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Your dad left very intricate instructions.”
And he was just following them.
“Oh.”
This wasn’t kindness, it was obligation.
It made him feel embarrassed.
“I'm not bad at baseball,” he murmured defensively because that was the next activity, even if he wasn’t allowed to participate. “It’s just that when it’s hot and muggy, my hypotension—”
“Hmph.”
“I’m a switch-hitter.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
The man looked a bit more thoughtful.
In the third inning, Yoshino got hit in the face by a grounder.
Uryū volunteered to walk him to the nurse.
It was a good opportunity to show his classmates and his teacher that he was helpful.
They stopped by a restroom to grab more tissues.
He gave tips to pinch the soft part of his nose and to breathe through his mouth.
“Spit out blood into the tissues so it doesn’t go down your throat and make you nauseous, especially if you have an empty stomach,” Uryū instructed.
Yoshino was pretty quiet the whole time but he did what Uryū advised.
Maybe he was nervous?
When they entered the nurse’s office, Uryū did most of the talking.
She wrote him a pass to return to class.
“You’ll be okay,” he told his classmate matter-of-factly.
There wasn’t any obvious deformity or sign of concussion or phobia about blood.
“Thanks, Ishida.”
“Yup.”
He ate lunch alone and did the homework for the first half of his classes.
There were panda rice balls.
Juri was the best.
He was a little disappointed that his thermos had water instead of juice but that was probably Dad interfering with the menu.
At least he was almost guaranteed fruit sandwiches after school.
The school’s library was nice with its mahogany wood and rolling ladders and bronze wall fixtures.
The Western architectural features made him feel a bit more at ease.
It was kind of like home.
“Hāfu…”
He couldn’t believe they actually said that to him. At him. With him mere feet away. Not like usual in the restroom with them unaware that he was in a stall.
He glanced at a glass display cabinet that held old pottery.
Obviously, his eyes were a dead giveaway that he wasn’t fully Japanese but…
Look at him. He frowned at his semi-transparent reflection.
He couldn’t exactly pass as European.
His remaining classes were easy.
Science and math were always fun and interesting.
The teachers of those subjects were already warming up to him.
Unfortunately, the familiar whispers of “suck up” were already happening.
One day and his peers already disliked him. It used to take a month. He used to have other first-place hopefuls think their intelligence and drive could rival his. And then Uryū would prove himself and they’d settle down and be bitter for a month or two before accepting it and then the bottom feeders of the bell curve would start calling him a “suck up” and grumbling and the smart kids would have to watch each others’ backs for the next few months until the biggest bully got enough complaints and was transferred out. Then the last two months would be peaceful-ish.
It wasn’t fair.
When the bell rang, he went to the agreed upon pick-up spot near the phone booth.
Juri was already waiting and waved at him.
When he was putting on his seatbelt the man asked, “Did you make any friends?”
“No. But I think I made a good impression on the Principal.”
“Hmm. Well, there’s always tomorrow. How did you meet the principal so soon?”
He explained.
“That’s good. He sounds like he likes you already. How are your teachers?”
“Still deciding.”
Mr. Aso had been super helpful all day but…
There wasn’t a good way to explain to a normal human that Aso’s spirit ribbon was weirdly cold and how that made him uneasy.
He probably couldn’t even explain it to Dad. He’d given up his powers years ago and probably couldn’t even remember what spirit detection involved.
He privately thought that Ryūken probably quit being a Quincy because he wasn’t any good at it.
Sensei had talked a lot about patience and adaptability.
Ryūken Ishida was almost infamously inflexible.
Good for being a surgeon who couldn’t afford to be wishy washy when someone was under his knife.
Bad for pretty much anything else.
Dad came home halfway through dinner.
He smelled like a pack of cigarettes, latex gloves, and bleach.
He took one look at Uryū’s second helping and frowned. “Mackerel miso stew was not on the original menu for tonight. Have you been making demands of Juri all day?”
“He’s just nice.” Unlike you, Uryū thought sourly.
“Uryū, please don’t take advantage of his kindness with specialty orders. And don’t slouch.”
“…” He straightened up in his seat.
Dad had soba noodles, which were on the “original” dinner menu. The way he kept pinching the bridge of his nose meant he had a headache.
He’d glare whenever Uryū’s spoon scraped.
Uryū finished and asked for permission to leave.
Light blue eyes gave him a piercing stare that pinned him to the spot. “Did you finish your homework?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is it on my desk?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You may watch one hour of television and then you can read until bed.”
“…Yes, sir.”
He had to rush to put his pajamas on and speed downstairs because one hour was hardly any time to find anything worth watching.
He decided on a space documentary, even though all the darkness made him feel cold.
Though, when you had hypotension, cold was usually better than hot.
He wrapped up in a fleece blanket and made himself comfortable in the parlor that had the television and a couch.
Dad was practically Victorian and wouldn’t just put a T.V. in the family wing.
He liked things to be difficult and uncomfortable and arranged.
Grandma Izumi had been that way, too.
A bit… miserable and exasperating.
Not like Mom.
Not like Sensei.
He concentrated on his father’s energy.
In his office. Typical.
He lived to work.
He didn’t even ask Uryū how his first day of school went.
That made him feel really small and insignificant.
Ryūken probably did that on purpose.
He was a jerk.
He sniffled and rubbed his nose on his sleeve.
The hour passed.
Uryū clutched the remote, ears pricked. He was waiting for footfalls to come and enforce the T.V. limit. Three minutes became thirty and he gradually relaxed.
The narrator’s calm voice and the slow grace of celestial bodies lulled him into soft thoughts about heaven as his eyelids grew heavy.
Was it somewhere in that inky darkness between galaxies?
A darkness so cold…it meant instant death.
Death was supposed to be scary except…that was the gateway to heaven.
And everyone who loved him was already there.
Did that mean heaven was cold?
He didn’t remember turning the television set off and climbing the stairs to go to bed, but he must have.
At four in the morning he had to go to the bathroom, and luckily his bedroom had one so he didn’t have to travel far.
He was feeling sad in the way that meant he must’ve had a good dream so he grabbed Roar, his old dragon plush, and then returned to bed.
Roar used to smell a bit like Mom and Dad and soy sauce from the one time a five-year-old Uryū had accidentally dropped a full serving dish of it on him but now he just smelled like dust and detergent.
Oh well.
He was soft. Better than nothing.
“Good morning, class.”
“Good morning, Mr. Aso.”
The first week was going by smoothly.
The homework was pretty easy. Just two Post-It notes this morning from his dad marking errors to catch—one with homophones and another where he forgot to put the date.
During one of the breaks, while the rooms’ burgeoning cliques formed and revealed the loners, Mr. Aso signaled him over.
“Still struggling?” He pointed to Uryū’s tie.
“Yeah.” Dad had been gone early each morning.
Juri was trying to help but Uryū hadn’t wanted him to do it for him.
It still looked sloppy but better than yesterday’s.
“I thought I had a month. I will improve, I promise.”
“You know if you get here a little earlier, before class starts, I could help you. I wouldn’t want you to get demerits for dress next month.”
Uryū sighed. “I just don’t know where to put my fingers.”
Curse his lefthanded-ness!
“Show me.”
He undid his tie and then tied it as Juri had suggested.
“Maybe a Pratt knot would be easier?” Mr. Aso suggested.
“Okay, but-but I don't know how to do it.”
“That’s alright. School is where we learn so you’re in the right place, are you not?”
“Yes, sir.”
He undid the tie again and expected Mr. Aso to show him with his own tie, like Juri had done.
But Mr. Aso just reached for Uryū’s tie and did it for him while narrating steps and he didn’t have a mirror nearby so it was really hard to learn anything.
Dad used to help him like this whenever he had to dress up.
When Uryū was small, Dad would smirk and finish with “Very charming.”
If the occasion was particularly special, he’d beg his dad for a dab of cologne.
Mom would always compliment him afterwards. He looked so handsome and smelled so fresh.
Ryūken got steadily rougher when tying ties through the last few funerals.
“Stay still and stop sniveling.”
It made him a little nervous though he couldn’t understand why.
Like right now.
There was something about having fingers near your throat.
Something primal that said: Be careful.
Like when he sensed a Hollow nearby.
But that was probably silly.
Dad would never hurt him.
Mr. Aso wouldn’t hurt him either.
Uryū was just a little messed up.
That happened when your household died out overnight.
Mass carbon-monoxide poisoning…
Horrible…
And as a result, instincts got dialed up and wires crossed.
“Yes, this suits you nicely.” Mr. Aso rested a hand on Uryū's shoulder before letting him return to his desk.
“Thank you, sir.”
It was just… his insights when it came to spirit ribbons were usually right.
“Juri!”
The man smiled and looked up from a crossword puzzle book he was doing against the steering wheel while he waited.
“Hello, Young Master,” he greeted and then frowned. “That isn’t the tie knot you left with this morning.”
“Yeah, my teacher helped me.”
He frowned more heavily. “Oh?”
“He said this style suits me, too, if the other one is too hard.”
“Ah.” Juri’s expression smoothed. He reached into the backseat for a cooler.
Uryū cheered at the sight of a fruit sando and then “Today, too?”
“The first week of school is tricky.”
“Don’t tell Dad. He doesn’t like me making specialty requests.”
“You didn’t ask today.”
“But…first…week?” He replied hopefully.
“Mmhmm.”
“Thanks, Juri.”
“Now put your seatbelt on.”
“Yes, sir!”
As they pulled away from the curb, he asked, “Did you make any new friends?”
“…No. Not today either.”
“Hmm. The other students know each other already?”
“Yeah, some of the other boys are in a dojo. Some of the girls are enrolled in finishing schools and dance studios.”
“Perhaps, you can ask your father to join an after school activity and adjust the days you attend cram schools?”
Uryū raised an eyebrow. “More time spent with grownups telling me what to do, where to stand, and how to think?”
“There is that.”
“Pass.”
“Hmm. Maybe I’m presenting this wrongly?”
“No, you’re advocating normal age-appropriate activities. But I’m not normal, Juri. So-”
“What would you like to learn that you aren’t learning at school or cram school?”
“…Sewing machine.”
“Hm?”
“I want to learn how to use a sewing machine. I was just learning how when… I’m not allowed to use Mom’s because Dad doesn’t want me to break it. I don’t have to use hers but I-I want to learn how to use a sewing machine because sewing by hand takes a long time. I mean, I like it. And I can do needlepoint but… I want…”
“Okay, then.”
“Sunflower Threads holds lessons but…”
“I will get a schedule and look into it. Though, the people there might be… a bit older.”
“Do older people not need friends?”
That would explain his dad.
Juri laughed. “Good point.”
He blinked, not sure what the “point” he’d made was.
“Anyone there would be very lucky to be your friend,” Juri told him kindly.
Sometimes Juri was just too nice to him.
As they pulled up to Karakura’s elite cram school, Juri handed him moist towelettes.
It was the one drawback of his favorite snack—so messy.
“Is there something in particular that you want to be able to sew?” Juri asked.
A Quincy uniform.
Preferably one that was cooler than sensei’s.
Uryū answered, “Everything. I want to be able to think something up and-and make it real.”
“I see. Well, I’ll look into it and see what we can do. In the meanwhile, work hard here. Remember, this will help you get into a good high school.”
“Right.”
“Do your best.”
“I will!” He hurried to class.
Notes:
Thank you for reading!
Comments and kudos are 🩶🍀🩵
Chapter 3
Notes:
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Trigger Warning: Unnerving feelings upon witnessing inappropriate student-teacher interactions.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Uryū hurried up the stairs to his homeroom, fifteen minutes early as suggested.
Juri had seemed a little concerned about dropping him off this morning but Uryū insisted that he needed to talk with his teacher. Which was true.
He needed to make a good impression, especially when his homeroom teacher was going out of his way to be nice to him.
The cold, unnerving sensation he got from the man had to be some kind of psychic hiccup.
Not even Ryūken gave off vibes like this and he was way more likely to say or do something mean.
He sensed another spirit ribbon already in the classroom with Aso.
It was unfamiliar though, not a classmate he’d met yet.
Maybe someone new had transferred in? He felt tentatively hopeful. Sometimes, in books, the late transfer student would wind up being someone really nice and cool.
And Uryū would have a chance now to befriend them first before the rest of the class did.
Uryū wasn’t dumb—he knew he wasn’t as fun as a lot of his peers were.
But he liked to think he had other attributes—he’d never forget their birthday, he’d always be happy to help them study, he was a good listener, he loved games and riddles, he was a problem-solver.
He opened the door and peeked in.
Nope.
Hopes dashed.
A girl from Grade 9, if he was interpreting her uniform correctly, was there.
Should he leave? It wasn’t like he had a real question about homework or scholarly concerns.
“Hello!” the girl greeted on noticing him.
He flushed and scuttled back.
“Hello, Ishida,” Mr. Aso called. “You can come in.”
He reluctantly entered and plastered what he hoped was a polite expression. “H-hi, I’m Uryū Ishida.”
“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Sumiko Fuji.” She smiled.
Her spirit ribbon was bright. From what Uryū had gathered through the years, that meant she was as nice as she acted. He stood a little closer than he would have otherwise.
“H-hi,” he repeated awkwardly. Her book bag had a chain across it. Colorful little charms shaped like gummy bears and sweets dangled from it.
His fingers twitched with the desire to inspect them. They were so cute and fun-looking.
He refrained.
“Is Mr. Aso helping you, too?” She asked.
There was no malice in the question. No teasing glint.
“Y-yeah, I’m learning how to tie a tie.” He gestured to the one he was wearing.
Was that dumb?
It sounded dumb.
It was dumb. He was dumb. Number One and he couldn’t figure this out on his own?!
Mr. Aso glanced over at the knot. “Definitely coming along, Ishida. I’ll help you in a moment. Miss Fuji was here first.”
“Of course,” he agreed quietly.
“He’s helping me with my hair. It’s so humid today, it’s making it even worse than usual,” she confided as she sat down in a chair. The chair squeaked a little bit since she was sort of overweight.
She immediately looked self conscious about that and her spirit ribbon said she was embarrassed.
He didn’t like when nice people hurt.
When Mom would worry…her eyebrows coming together…
Only laughter or flowers seemed to fix it.
So Uryū started babbling about the difficulties of being left-handed. How frustrating it was to sit near right-handed people and how elbow battles occurred during meals.
“If I eat continental style, it’s no issue but if there are chopsticks—”
“The battle begins!” She threw a mock glare at him.
He narrowed his eyes. “First blood!”
They made fierce expressions, like they were dramatic samurai meeting on the battlefield and sizing one another up.
She succumbed to a fit of giggles.
Uryū smiled a little shyly, glad his tactic had worked.
Aso shook his head at their antics as he set up brushes and spray bottles.
Not sure what to do now, Uryū sat on top of a desk and watched, his feet kicking gently.
Fuji did have thick, frizzy auburn-ish hair.
She stared at him.
He stared at her.
“You have great hair,” she told him bluntly.
“H-Huh?”
“Doesn’t he, Sho?” She asked.
Whoa, did she just call the teacher by his first name?
Was he a grownup that allowed that?
“His has a very nice metallic luster, but your hair has its charm, too,” the man assured her.
“Yeah, right,” she scoffed.
“…”
“I get teased…about a lot of things but… my hair is something I have more control over. Especially with Mr. Aso’s help. He was a hairdresser before he was a teacher,” she told Uryū.
Aso was dividing sections of her hair and spraying them.
He combed and brushed and massaged the hair to make it lay more smoothly.
His fingers moved along her scalp, behind her ears, and through her hair. His thumbs pressed down on her neck.
Uryū went to the salon for haircuts and washes.
Hair was… just kinda intimate. Wasn’t it?
Mom would let Dad brush and style her hair. Sometimes, he’d pause and kiss her shoulder or neck. If they noticed him, they’d tell him to go find a board game for them to play and to set it up. They'd be there in a little while.
Uryū started feeling on edge.
He suddenly intensely hoped he didn’t witness that here.
He didn’t. Even so, the weird nervousness didn’t let up.
Aso began plaiting Fuji’s hair.
“French braids always look nice on her,” Aso commented lightly.
“I’m growing my fringe out,” Fuji announced. “It’ll look more sophisticated. But they’re in that weird in-between stage right now.”
Aso used the butterfly clips she’d brought to keep the unruly strands stationed. He used more to make a sort of headband crown.
She looked youthful. Pretty. With the colorful clips all arranged like that.
“It’s nice,” Uryū offered, meaning it.
She beamed.
It made him feel good to see someone besides Juri being glad he existed. Almost distracted him from the not-so-good feeling in his tummy right now.
“Hmm.” Aso glanced at the room’s clock. “It looks like we’re running a bit short on time, Ishida.”
“Oh, it’s okay. You said this one was better, right?” As long as he was improving, he could be good enough by the end of the month.
“Nonsense. Come here, I’ll just do it for you. We can practice more tomorrow.”
“O-oh.” He shuffled forward to the expectant hands.
Was this weird? It seemed kind of weird.
Aso smiled kindly at him. “I’ll do an Atlantic knot today.”
“O-okay.” He’d never heard of that one before. Not that he could just ask his dad—he was gone so much and he didn’t like being pestered with questions. Uryū had to save up the most important ones to ask him. Maybe he could ask Mr. Tsunoda? He was knowledgeable.
“You can relax, Ishida,” Fuji said as she watched approvingly. “Aso watches out for people like us.”
“People like us…”
People who weren’t fully Japanese.
That…meant he was a good guy, right?
So why… didn’t his spirit ribbon…?
The school bell rang with its first warning.
“Better get to class, Fuji.”
“Yes!” She waved, cheeks pinking a bit as Mr. Aso waved back.
Uryū gave a slow, awkward wave as Aso returned to tying Uryū’s tie.
Were they weird?
Or was it him?
Or were they all weird?
It might’ve been that.
Still, Uryū was a Quincy, the last of his kind. What was their excuse?
Uryū frowned and pointed to the bento hanging off his backpack. “I pack my lunch so I don’t have lunch money. Duh. And even if I did, why would I give it to you? You’re being mean.”
Somehow, he’d gotten surrounded by jerks. Three of them.
All eighth or ninth graders.
It was hard to tell. Taller usually meant older.
“We’re not leaving empty-handed, so give us something.”
“Advice. Pick a better pastime,” Sumiko Fuji suggested. “Unless you want to be suspended.”
“What’s that, Chub Chub?” The girl in the bully group sneered.
There was mean laughter and several kids puffed up their cheeks to make fun of Fuji.
“Oh I’m sorry, did you say something, Ironing Board?” Fuji snapped back.
The other girl’s face crumpled.
There were more mean snickers but at their friend’s expense.
Ironing board? Uryū’s eyebrows furrowed.
Fuji took him by the hand and pulled him along, getting them away.
Some kind of insult had landed.
Clever enough that it distracted their enemies and let them escape.
Come on, Number One. What was the punchline?
Ironing board…
Nope. Nothing was cropping up.
“Ironing board?” he asked.
“Because she’s flat,” Fuji whispered out of the corner of her mouth.
“Flat? But her voice was sharp and nasally,” Uryū pointed out.
Fuji giggled hard. “Don’t worry about it and bust a gear, Ishida. Are you okay?”
Flat. Had a different…a different…connotation.
Flat. He thought of the girl again.
She was flat. He vaguely recalled magazines in convenience stores giving tips for fashion or diets to—
“Ohhh…her chest.” His face heated up.
Fuji laughed hard. “Good catch, Ishida. Juvenile, I know but sometimes you have to hit ‘em where it hurts.”
“Oh. Right.” He kinda did that when his peers got a little too full of themselves in the classroom and began bragging to others who’d done poorly on a test or assignment. He’d show them up by pointing out a flaw in their logic or revealing he knew even more about a subject or showing his own score.
“Bullies take advantage of nice people so we have to toughen you up,” Fuji said quietly.
He was nice?
Usually people called him a snotty know-it-all and a snob.
He just liked to stay clean. Messy clothes stressed Mom out.
“Do you have anyone to sit with at lunch? I can walk you to your classroom,” she offered.
Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around?
Because he was a boy and she was a girl?
Or maybe Fuji was gallant?
Mom had been gallant. A fearless, graceful onna-musha.
He felt even better about Fuji.
“I eat outside the library so I can go right in and do homework,” Uryū explained.
“Oh. I’ll walk you there then.”
“Okay.”
A few minutes later, he settled near the doors with his backpack. “I’m good. Thank you for helping me and being nice when you didn’t have to be.”
She looked a little troubled and stared at the nearby niches that held the busts of famous Japanese poets and scholars. Uryū was proud to say he could name them all without reading their bronze placards.
“Do you like the library?” She asked
“I love libraries,” Uryū answered.
“Oh…well okay then… but… if you… decide there’s a little too much peace and quiet, head over to the far side bleachers. That’s where me and my friends eat lunch.”
My friends and I… he corrected instinctively but managed to keep his fat mouth shut at the last second.
“There are cherry blossom trees and a couple are still in bloom so it looks neat.” She waited a beat and then walked away.
Uryū continued sitting on the cold, hard marble tiles in front of the library.
He was supposed to follow her, wasn’t he?
He’d messed up. That had been a real invitation.
If he didn’t go and he told Juri that he didn’t go, Juri would probably be disappointed.
That he turned down an invitation to make friends.
He looked longingly at the library where it would be safe and lonely and then at a door that would lead outside to uncertainty.
Be brave.
Be brave.
Be brave.
Nothing in her demeanor said it was a trick.
He followed her spirit ribbon. There were other people with her.
He gripped the straps of his backpack. “H-hi Fuji, you…you said-”
“Hey Ishida! You changed your mind?!”
“Y-yeah.” Please don’t be mean.
“Cool. Come sit.” She patted the space of the bench near her.
“M’kay.”
Another girl nearby, who seemed to be Fuji’s age and in the same grade, glanced down and said, “You have good skin. God, I hate you.”
Uryū’s mouth went agape. “What?”
“Ignore her!” Fuji commanded.
Jaw still dropped because it was one thing to be disliked but a whole other thing to be hated in like 1.8 seconds when—
“Try this!”
Fuji shoved a pastry in his mouth.
“Mmphf. Mmmm.” It was a—
“It’s a—”
“Milchschnitte!”
“Milchschnitte! That’s right! Delicious, isn’t it? I love trying new food,” Fuji said.
“Obviously,” the other girl scoffed.
Fuji gave her a half-hearted swat on the arm. “How did you know it, Ishida?”
“It’s German. Dad likes lots of German food.”
“Lucky! What’s your lunch like then, Ishida?” Fuji asked.
“I like traditional food.” Like Mom, Uryū smiled. “Juri’s bentos are awesome.”
She perked up. “Juri’s? Is that a new shop?”
“Uh, no. He’s our family chef.”
“O-oh. Your family…has…”
“Yeah. See?” He opened it. “Rice ball bunnies!”
“Awww. That’s—”
“So lame,” an older boy declared from under the bleachers.
“No, it’s not. It’s lunch,” Uryū snapped and decisively took a bite.
“Oooh, baby burn, think you can handle that first-degree heat, Seiji?” Another boy who was also down there with long sleeves, despite the muggy weather, snickered.
“Be nice everyone. This is Ishida. We have to teach him the ropes,” Fuji said. “So he can survive here.”
The two boys came out from under the bleachers to better converse with Fuji.
“Why is that?” Seiji demanded. “You heard him. His family’s so rich they’ve got their own personal chef—”
Uryū turned to frown at him.
“Ohhh… Okay,” Seiji relented.
“Yeah. Like it or not. He’s one of us,” Fuji reasoned.
“Well, I don’t like it,” Longsleeves grumbled.
“It’s going to be okay, Ishida. You can eat your lunch with us from now on,” Fuji promised.
Uryū blinked. Was that good or not?
Maybe he should’ve stayed at the library?
The best part of a Friday was that the rotation he was enrolled in meant there was no cram school for him today so he and Juri could just go straight home.
He clicked the seatbelt. “I think I made a friend.”
“That’s great news,” Juri congratulated.
“But her friends don’t like me.”
“Ooh, a lady friend. Don’t worry, they grow out of the boys-have-cooties phase,” Juri assured. “I promise.”
He blinked. “Yeah, um, she’s older than me. She’s a ninth grader.”
“Oh.”
“She helped me out and now I’m allowed to eat lunch with her. Is it friendship or pity?”
“Let’s call it friendship.”
“YES!” He pumped a fist. “I made a friend! I was starting to think I didn’t have it in me anymore. At my old school, people said I was cursed because of what happened at home four years ago. And even the friends I did have then got tired of me afterwards because I was ‘gloomy.’”
“You’re not cursed and you’re not gloomy, Uryū. You’ve just had a lot of very difficult things to deal with.”
He sighed. “I’m not ‘cool’ either, Juri.”
“You listen to me carefully. ‘Cool’ is overrated. Cool distracts itself with trends instead of focusing on what’s really important.”
“Yeah, ‘cool’ has more fun. You don’t have to rub it in.”
“Uryū,” he chuckled. “Hmm. Well, maybe we need to prioritize some fun, huh?”
He pulled off into a parking lot.
He used the fleet car’s built-in phone to make a call.
“Hello, this is Juri Souma. I need to speak with Director Ishida about a matter pertaining to his son.”
Uryū watched him curiously.
“Ah. Yes, hello, sir. Yes. Yes. He is doing well. I was hoping we could make an excursion to—No. I am the one suggesting it. He made a new friend today and I think enduring the first week of middle school is worthy of celebration. I was going to take him to Sunflower Threads but I wanted you to be aware. Yes. Yes. We’ll do that. Thank you, sir. Of course.”
After he hung up, Uryū murmured, “You didn’t have to tell him. He wouldn’t have even noticed. His schedule says he has an all-nighter shift.”
“I didn’t want him to worry about you.”
Uryū fidgeted with his seatbelt. “He never worries about me.”
“I guarantee you, fathers worry all the time.”
Maybe good ones did.
That ruled out Ryūken.
Juri was the best. He’d actually researched it all—just like he said he would!
Uryū grinned and bowed in front of the local Sunflower Threads Sewing Society.
“Hi! My name is Uryū Ishida. I know needlepoint and basic sewing, like, I can mend little tears and busted seams okay. But I want to be good. Really good. I want to be able to make clothes that’ll hold up if I wear them around. And I need to learn how to use a sewing machine for that to happen. Juri said there’s some I can practice with here?”
“Yes, there are. How old are you, Uryū?” One member asked.
He stood up a little taller. “I am almost twelve and a half years old.”
There were some ooh’s and ah’s and applause.
Already nicer than his classmates.
Their spirit ribbons said they were intrigued by him.
“I would be very grateful for any skills you can teach me,” he said firmly.
He was introduced to other members of the Sewing Society.
“Is there an initiation?” he asked, aware that as the youngest person there he probably had to prove himself.
One older man snorted, “Have you all your teeth?”
“Mostly. This one is still coming in.” He showed them. “And I have a couple baby ones left, but—”
“You’re in,” the man deadpanned.
He flushed. “Oh. You were just teasing.”
They asked him lots of questions—how he got interested in crafting, why he was here now, and if his homework was all done.
He explained how his mother had taught him back stitch and chain stitch and satin stitch and how to set the embroidery hoop.
Then they asked where she was and he got choked up as he explained.
A few of them even recognized him from when Sensei used to bring him.
And then he had to explain that he was gone, too. But he’d taught him some basics in sewing before, before, before he—
Plip.
Drip.
Splat.
And then his voice broke off and his nose started to run, too.
“I’m so sorry, child.”
“Poor thing.”
“There. There.”
A dozen colorful handkerchiefs of different styles with different embellishments were immediately thrust at him to make use of.
Notes:
Thank you for reading!
Comments and kudos are <3 <3 <3
Chapter Text
Saturday.
Juri was spending this Saturday with his family.
It was allowed.
He was allowed to have days off.
It wasn’t quite that he envied Juri’s family for wanting to have their grandfather present…Uryū just wished he could’ve gone, too.
He would’ve tried his hardest to be good company—helpful and nice and-and whatever he needed to be.
Saturdays usually had really light staff working. The kind who mainly acted like Uryū was either invisible and didn’t make any eye contact or conversation with him or that he was made of glass and could not be bumped into—avoiding him at all costs.
Invisible was slightly better than the latter.
Slightly.
Dad had arrived home early that morning.
Uryū, still in pajamas, peeked his head out of his room when he sensed his spirit ribbon.
“Double-shift. Do not disturb me,” Ryūken told him shortly before disappearing into his bedroom.
Uryū looked at the double doors leading to his parents’ room—still closed.
No father-son bonding today.
Fine. That was fine.
It wasn’t like Ryūken was that much fun anyway. Not anymore at least.
Uryū dressed and went to the family’s library to read fairytales, double-checked his homework before depositing it in the tray in his father’s office, ate one of the extra bentos Juri kept in the fridge just in case and watched three whole hours of television in the parlor.
And then he went to the other wing of the house where his grandparents had lived once.
This wing wasn’t frequented as often by the staff on weekends so he was unlikely to be disturbed.
He did cartwheels and handstands until he got tired.
He had to build up more stamina so he could fight Hollows.
Only, he wasn’t allowed in any of the actual Quincy training facilities. It was so frustrating.
He did a few flips and tumbles since being nimble and gymnastic just seemed prudent when it was hard to guess what a Hollow could do.
While there were some repeating types of Hollows, many were very diverse in their bodies and abilities.
So one had to be good at commanding their own body to survive an encounter.
He felt like he was getting close to being able to perform ransōtengai. He could manifest strands of reishi and wrap them but he didn’t have great command yet.
Practice. Practice. Practice.
He manifested the strands for almost forty minutes and then let them dissolve when he started yawning.
Manifest first. Then manipulate.
He’d learn more finesse after that.
He laid down in the hallway where the sun had warmed the carpet, staring up at portraits of his family.
All so solemn.
But that was probably to be expected.
Warriors. All of them. He needed to be a warrior, too.
But how?
How would he manage it without Sensei?
It seemed almost impossible.
If only Dad would let him into the archives, he could train himself.
With the right reading materials, he could teach himself practically anything.
He was super smart—that was his super power.
He’d overheard kids talking about super powers at school the other day.
What ones they’d want if they could choose.
Flying. Super speed. Super strength. Talking to animals. Controlling weather and elements.
Nobody chose to talk to dead people.
No one chose to be smart.
No one wanted to be like him.
Grandpa was gone and there went the only other person who understood him.
It was hard having powers like these. He wished Dad still had his so there’d be someone to talk to about it all.
He couldn’t help feeling sorry for himself.
Mom would want him to be brave so he tried to pull himself together.
He traced the designs of the carpet with his fingers.
The air conditioning was so cold he pulled his sleeves over his hands.
If he could prove himself…
Do it all… human stuff and Quincy stuff and be great at it all... maybe Dad would be proud and finally like him again…
Like he used to… when Mom was… alive…
The sun slowly sank and shadows grew until they swallowed everything.
He yawned and relaxed into the darkness.
It was a good dream. He and Mom were at the movies and she was letting him look at all the candies behind the glass. She never rushed him. The guards accompanying them would sometimes even buy ones he was curious about and slip him some to try.
“-yū? Uryū?”
He squinted against bright lights.
“Did you faint?” His father demanded the minute Uryū’s eyes were open.
“Must’ve,” he lied, trying not to let on how disappointed he was to leave his dream.
“Hn. Interlock your fingers and pull. Tense your muscles. Get the blood circulating.”
“Yes, sir.”
His pulse was taken.
A small penlight was shined into his eyes.
“How long do you think you’ve been lying here?”
Trick question.
He feigned innocence. “I dunno. I wanted to see if the Libra constellation was visible. It’s the right time of year.”
To explain the lack of lights. Better than saying, ‘I did cartwheels until I was tired and napped because I was feeling sad.’
“But then… I-I can’t remember. Sorry, Dad.”
His father nodded.
Going this route would mean having water pushed at him incessantly for the next 72 hours to combat dehydration and vasovagal syncope but Dad never lectured him for having hypotension episodes.
It helped that Mom had had them, too.
“If you’re able, try sitting up. Good.” Ryūken very carefully helped Uryū to his feet.
He used to mistake Ryūken’s demeanor in these situations as proof of affection but… the reality was…
It would’ve been really bad publicity if the Director of Karakura Hospital couldn’t keep his own son alive and well.
Ryūken Ishida was like the late Izumi Ishida in that regard.
They cared more about their family’s reputation than their actual family members.
His father reluctantly took him out to dinner in a restaurant.
No soda.
No choices really.
He wore what Dad told him to.
Sat at the table Dad wanted.
Ate what Dad ordered him.
He hadn’t even asked him about what he’d like.
He stared down at his plate: dark leafy vegetables and beef with water as his beverage.
Ryūken was currently pouring him more.
He’d had half a glass left.
“When the weather is hot, you need to drink more water,” Dad advised in his ‘I’m-a-doctor-you-better-listen’ voice.
Uryū wanted soda.
Sometimes, when Dad took him for an outing he could get one.
Just one. Immediately followed up with water which washed the sugary taste away. And when they got home he’d be advised to brush his teeth.
Not tonight.
“Have some soup, too,” Dad prompted.
“…”
Miso soup. It felt like it was always miso soup as a side dish.
“The salt could help.”
He nodded and took a sip. It was good soup. He just didn’t like being ordered around so much.
“…”
“Did you eat breakfast this morning?” Dad asked solemnly.
Uryū cringed. “No.”
Ryūken frowned. “Did you ask one of the staff to make you lunch?”
He shook his head. “There was a bento in the fridge. I had that.”
It was good. Rice ball cats.
Dad sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “If that’s all you had today, no wonder you fainted. Your blood sugar was too low. You need to try and have small meals and snacks throughout the day. Do you need me to write out a regimen?”
Uryū grimaced at the idea of Dad bossing him around even more despite not physically being there. “No.”
“Very well.” He pushed up his glasses. “Tell me the suitable snacks you’ll eat tomorrow. I’ll be on call and completing reports so I can’t watch you all day and you’re old enough to take more responsibility for yourself. Tell me, what will you eat?”
His mind blanked. “Uhhh.”
“See?”
He didn’t want the small freedom taken away.
“Seaweed? Chocolate pudding? Wasabi peas?” He blurted out in a rush of desperation.
His father snickered a little and pointed out how the snacks didn’t remotely complement each other. “You’ll give yourself a stomach ache.”
“I thought it was implied that the snacks would be spaced out.”
Ryūken raised an eyebrow. “Even if they were spaced out, to have them on the same day consecutively…very acidic…no, I’ll make you a list.”
Uryū sighed.
When they got home, Dad had to do more business calls and Uryū had to be quiet.
He always had to be quiet now. As if the house wasn’t eerily quiet already.
Sometimes, he wondered, if Dad liked silence so much, why have a kid at all? He’d probably been even louder as a baby.
But he was too scared to ask that.
Because it would mean hearing out loud that only Mom had wanted him.
And she was dead now.
And he wasn’t sure how much the already precarious dynamic they had would warp even more with such a confirmation.
It put a weird pit in his stomach that felt really heavy.
Nobody really wanted to live in a fairytale because it meant rough starts like this; families that didn’t like you.
He sniffled and rubbed his nose on his sleeve.
He used to think he was his Dad’s favorite or…second-favorite, because Mom, person.
Dad would smile when Uryū welcomed him home. He’d hug him or pick him up or ruffle his hair or cup his cheek.
Maybe he was too old for all of that?
But there was something really rough about greeting someone and getting a gesture to be quiet.
It sometimes felt like Dad valued his pager more than him.
Dad no longer liked being… he’d started calling it “ambushed” at the door with a hug and questions.
Uryū tried to respect that. When he sensed his father’s spirit ribbon, he’d started staying in the family wing or at the dinner table or in his room.
He tried not to rush forward to meet him. Sometimes, he still forgot and habit got the better of him but then Dad would release an annoyed breath through his nose.
It made it sound like dealing with Uryū was unpleasant and exhausting which was hard to understand because Dad barely even saw him anymore.
Still, if Dad didn’t like him, why take him out to a nice restaurant when he could go alone? Why worry so much about his hypotension?
It couldn’t all be about money and reputation.
If he really didn’t like Uryū, he could send him away to a boarding school overseas and wait out the semesters until Uryū came of age.
Or he could… let something bad happen to him. That happened in movies, bad doctors could make things look like accidents and the hero would have to do detective work to reveal the wrongdoing.
Dad had already proved he had a strong stomach…
He shuddered as he remembered Mom… on that table… under that awful sheet…
Dad in surgical scrubs…
The formaldehyde hadn’t bothered him at all.
Just the memory made Uryū’s nose and eyes sting…
The idea of Dad wanting to hurt him…
Uryū sniffled again.
No.
Mom and Grandpa would argue that good doctors wouldn’t do bad things on purpose and that Dad was one of the best.
Look at all the awards he got?
Dad was just mean sometimes.
That wasn’t the same as bad.
Uryū was in his pajamas making a puzzle when his dad reappeared in the room.
Ryūken checked his watch.
Uryū glanced over at the clock.
9:45 pm.
It was a Saturday night. He was allowed to stay up until ten.
Dad gave a nod, and said, “Come with me.”
In the family library, there was a large telescope he wasn’t allowed to play with. He could only use it with supervision.
He hovered on the side until he was invited closer.
“Take a look, Uryū,” Ryūken instructed.
He pressed close to the eyepiece. The lens of his glasses clinked lightly against the apparatus.
His father leaned down and asked quietly, “Do you see it?”
“Libra,” he breathed excitedly.
“Yes.”
Dad explained how weather and time and movement could make constellations easier or harder to see in the night sky.
“Do you recognize any others?” Dad asked.
“Umm.”
“Here.” Dad’s arms came around him to adjust the telescope.
Uryū shifted to let his dad lean in and check the view before pulling back.
“Look now.”
“Ursa Major,” Uryū answered confidently.
“Yes.”
Maybe he couldn’t be a Quincy astronaut, but what about a Quincy astronomer?
Dad moved the telescope again.
Uryū got so many constellations right, he earned a “Very good, my dragon.”
Dad even tucked him into bed.
Uryū wasn’t a morning person. He’d used to assume that was part of his Quincy genetics—that he was primed for operating at night when lots of Hollows liked to be on the prowl.
As he read over the list, he yawned.
Fruits. Vegetables. Nuts. As well as times for him to eat each one.
He went to the second refrigerator and opened the door.
A muffin tray has been designated for him.
He wondered if the maid, Yuna, had been recruited to make this for him.
She was older and very health-conscious.
He inspected the tray. Each “muffin” slot had been allotted with an “acceptable” snack, all of which were—in a word—boring.
“Good, you found it.”
Uryū jumped a little.
“It’s time for your first snack,” his dad advised while he had a cordless phone held between his ear and his shoulder while he carried a clipboard with papers. “You already missed breakfast.”
And he’d gotten more sleep instead. No regrets.
“Can I pick and choose?” Uryū asked.
“I consulted with your pediatrician. Follow the instructions as written. It’ll be easier on your digestive system.”
He’d… already managed to talk to Uryū’s pediatrician this morning? Did he have her on speed dial?
“…Kay.”
The first snack on the list was konnyaku jelly.
He glanced at his dad and raised an eyebrow and read it aloud.
Dad nodded. “It’s good for your insides, your bones, and your heart. You said you want to be as tall as me, yes?”
Uryū nodded a little shyly. Yes. He did.
“Then you need to eat and rest well so you can be healthy and grow. You can do that, right?”
Uryū heaved a loud, long sigh but couldn’t keep from smiling a little. “I guess so. As long as wasabi peas stay on the list.”
“And that’s why the jelly is first. So, you can look forward to the other ones later.” Dad set the clipboard under his arm in order to reach over and ruffle his hair.
Uryū ate the bland jelly cup without complaint.
Cared about him.
Of course Dad cared about him. He just got stressed sometimes.
Jobs stressed grownups out. And Dad’s job was hard, literally life and death.
Uryū just had to learn to be more patient with him.
More quiet.
So he’d stop annoying him and they could be happier.
Life would never be perfect again—not without Mom and Grandpa.
But it could be better.
Uryū was getting older; he just had to take more responsibility for himself.
Like Dad said.
Because Dad was tired.
Uryū needed to step up and try harder.
“We missed you earlier,” Mr. Aso commented as Uryū set his belongings down.
Uryū smiled, happy for the segue. “My Dad helped me with my tie this morning. See? It’s a Full Windsor. He wears this one the most. I asked why and he said the men in our family have angular faces.”
“Oh? Your face doesn’t seem particularly angular.”
Uryū blinked, not expecting to be challenged on this. “Umm. I guess… it will be? Later? I mean, I looked like my Mom more when I was younger but I’m starting to look a little bit more like my dad now. Beyond just glasses, I mean. I hope I’m tall, too. He doesn’t need any help reaching stuff. I always have to get stepladders.”
“Hm. Do you think you take after your dad in other ways?”
He frowned, considering the question. “…No. Not really. I’m just… more like my mom. I wish I was like my Grandpa but I’m not.”
He’d asked his Grandpa if he took after him and he’d cheerfully told him ‘no.’
And then, on seeing his spirits crash, reassured him that that was perfectly alright.
“I feel like I took after my mother in all of my best traits,” Mr. Aso said.
“Yes, that!” Uryū agreed. “That’s what I mean.”
He thought of his mom and him and their similarities.
Their taste in music. Their taste in food. Their creativity.
Honestly, he didn’t have very much in common with his dad. It made him hard to talk to and harder to impress.
Though he couldn’t quite give up on the idea of it—the fantasy where Uryū managed to become a Quincy and a successful…something professional and Dad apologized for doubting him and Grandpa and deciding he was proud to be a Quincy after all. And maybe that change in perspective would spark his powers into coming back?
Other students rushed in as the bell rang.
Mr. Aso went to his desk to take attendance.
Uryū caught his reflection in the window; his tie looked good.
And Dad hadn’t even complained when he asked for help.
He said it took lots of practice to do it well every time. That Uryū needed to be patient.
He demonstrated. Let Uryū practice twice and then did it for him while having Uryū watch with a mirror and narrate the steps.
Uryū smiled.
When Dad was nice to him, it felt like everything was going to be okay.
That he was safe. And his worries were silly.
It made him want to do something nice back.
Inspiration struck.
Father’s Day!
He could make a tie!
Mom had made Dad ties. He liked hers a lot. He probably wouldn’t like Uryū’s as much but…
He was twelve now. His skills as an artisan had to have improved.
And a tie had to be more useful than the other stuff Uryū usually made him—key chains and pictures and cards.
Dad never used that junk.
Maybe this gift would finally be good enough?
Notes:
Thank you for reading!
Comments and kudos are 💚💗🩵
Chapter Text
Uryū used the de-pitting tool that had been packed to eat the cherries in his lunch.
“Yum.”
Tasty and good for him because of antioxidants. Plus, they helped with sleep and heart health.
He sent a silent thank you to Juri—it was the thoughtful snack he needed.
Maybe that was why he was trying so hard? For Juri.
He could tell Juri was relieved he had people to spend lunch with.
And yeah, hanging out with older kids should’ve made him feel cool, but Uryū didn’t really care for Fuji’s group.
She was nice. The rest of them weren’t.
Still, it had been a while since he had anyone to eat with so he should probably be grateful for the company.
He needed to find admirable traits. Grandpa was good at that. He owed it to him to at least try.
He decided to start with Seiji Sasaki.
He was… interesting.
He was fourteen years old and tall for his age. His longer face and broader shoulders meant he was mistaken for being older.
The opposite of Uryū who was short and youthful looking—only his glasses lent him an edge of sophistication.
Sasaki didn’t wear a tie at all and had a safety pin as an earring in one ear that he’d apparently pierced himself. In fact, his penchant for jewelry, from necklaces to bracelets to rings, made Uryū less self-conscious about his Quincy cross. In the past, he’d dealt with some light teasing for wearing a “girly” bracelet. He’d usually said it was a family heirloom and that he needed to wear it. Sasaki hadn’t commented on it at all, like one bracelet and a watch on the other side for balance was nothing to take note of.
Honestly, Uryū liked keeping them separate because manifesting a bow could sometimes crack the clock face of a watch. And it was awkward making up stories to tell his dad about how things got broken since he couldn’t always be honest and mention Quincy stuff.
Just the word “Quincy” made Ryūken’s nostrils flare.
Most of the time Uryū just wasn’t willing to bring it up and incur those looks of instant reproach.
On this aspect, he might’ve envied the other boy a bit.
Sasaki didn’t care what others thought. One necklace was Gothic in its jewels and ornate gunmetal design. But another necklace he wore was just a bunch of safety pins. His bracelets were a strange eclectic mismatch of leather bands, beads, and metal. His rings didn’t look comfortable and probably weren’t since he took them off when he was drawing.
Drawing, Uryū decided, was Sasaki’s redeeming quality.
Sasaki was more than just good.
Uryū regularly doodled in his notebooks and he got top marks on assignments that required artistic flair but it was something else to watch Sasaki work. His pen strokes knew exactly where they were going and what they were intended for.
It was really fascinating.
He could practically feel himself gaining insight and techniques by being nearby.
Only the older boy was getting annoyed by Uryū’s attention.
He could sense it in his spirit ribbon and the tautness of his shoulders.
“You got something to say or not?” He grumbled as he looked up, gray eyes narrowing at him.
“Are you going to art school?” Uryū asked, trying to discreetly pay a compliment and gather information in one swoop. It would be neat to say he knew someone majoring in fine arts and—
“I’m going to be a tattoo artist.”
Uryū looked down at the illustration the other boy was making of skulls barfing barbed wires and grenades.
Oh. Yeah. That kinda made sense.
“Do you think it’ll be hard?” Uryū asked.
“Huh?
“Drawing on skin instead of paper?”
Sasaki shrugged. “Whenever you change mediums there’s a learning curb.”
“Yeah, but it’ll be… kinda bloody, right? And if the skin doesn’t heal correctly there can be complications?”
Sasaki momentarily looked impressed that he knew that. He seemed to function under the belief that Uryū was too prim to know anything gritty.
Puh-lease. He hunted Hollows. They were pretty gross as a rule. He wished he could tell people.
Maybe he’d never be cool but if they knew he was fighting literal monsters… could he be better respected?
He decided to press his luck.
“I draw dragons!” he told him. “But I want to be able to embroider them. That would be so neat, don’t you think?”
Sasaki rolled his eyes.
Maybe Uryū should shut up?
“Because of your name?” Fuji guessed from where she was sitting nearby. She was writing in a small journal with a big pen that had a large flower that bobbled back and forth on a spring.
It was kind of hypnotic. A lot of her stuff was fun like that. Again, he looked at the charms on her bag.
She noticed and unclipped the chain so he could admire it.
He blushed as he accepted it, fingers feeling along the charms.
Uryū had always been lucky that he thrived with multiple learning styles, but tactile was always a favorite.
Feeling something in his hands always made a concept feel more real and it let him sense energy from the last person who’d handled it.
Fuji had a clear, clean sort of energy that said she was optimistic… but a little bit sad.
The kind of sadness that made someone soft instead of hard or sharp.
Uryū wasn’t sure what his sadness did—it kind of felt like he was metamorphic rock, deciding what his properties were going to be as he was compressed and heated by the stressors of his environment.
He tried to be upbeat. “Yeah! My dad and I both have the character for ‘dragon.’”
And it used to make him feel super special and important—that Dad had chosen it for him. That it connected them.
At least until it became clearer that Ryūken had broken tradition to do so and separated Uryū from Sensei.
No “ken” for him.
Still, there was something in the choice.
Something dragon-like in the way European tales depicted them—greedy and possessive—that he would snatch Uryū away.
That Uryū was part of a dragon’s hoard—treasure.
Except…
“Well done, my dragon…my Ryū…”
He felt his face warm at the easy affection there.
A dragon’s nest… he was part of a dragon’s nest.
And that made him feel calm and wanted. And he could forgive the change up. If he ever married and had a child, maybe he’d share the “dragon” character, too?
He pulled his spiral notebook out of his backpack to show off his latest doodle—sky dragon and water dragon.
Fuji thought it was nice. Her energy lifted at the sight of whimsical things.
Seiji gave an unimpressed stare. “You need to learn about chiaroscuro.”
Uryū nodded determinedly. “Okay. What’s that?”
It sounded sophisticated.
He sighed. “Light and shadow. So it looks more… realistic. I mean, yeah, it’s a mythical subject but… you should know the rules before you break them.”
Uryū’s jaw dropped and a shiver ran down his back. That. Was good advice for life.
He could sense it.
Uryū wrote the note down: Know the rules before you break them.
It sounded rebellious. Cool. Pragmatic.
“Chiaroscuro,” Uryū repeated back. “Is it at the library?
Seiji shrugged. “Should be. In art books.”
“Okay. Thanks.” He stood up, brushed off his pants, and hurried to the library.
Chiaroscuro.
He asked the librarian for help. It was in lots of art books.
He checked out one for sketching first.
Walk before you run…
Then he could see about painting and embroidering. Maybe he could ask Mr. Tsunoda at the university library about it?
“I thought you were going to be a doctor” was the first thing Mr. Tsunoda said as Uryū rushed over to his desk after being dropped off for the afternoon.
“Nope!” He blurted out so knee jerk honestly that the man’s face fell.
Oops. Was this going to get back to Dad somehow?
Mr. Tsunoda’s eyebrows came down in a stern furrow and he adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses. “What happened?”
Uryū twisted his fingers into the edges of his sleeves and shrugged his shoulders. “I just don’t think it’s for me.”
He felt annoyed with himself; this was his own fault. From the time he was in preschool, he’d shrilly insisted he was going to follow in his father’s footsteps to anyone who would listen.
As a little kid, he’d drawn pictures, worn dress-up white coats, and had even tried to wear a plastic stethoscope out in public.
Mr. Tsunoda was an old family friend of his parents and had known him since he was born.
He’d witnessed it all.
“Why not?” He demanded.
“I don’t like to hurt people.”
Mr. Tsunoda’s eyebrows shot up. “What kind of specialty were you considering where that factors in?”
For one moment, Uryū considered answering “acupuncture.”
But… if he was too flippant… that could make the man complain to his dad.
But if he was too blunt…
Honesty, Uryū didn’t think he could tell anyone about the autopsy he witnessed. Didn’t know what would happen if he did.
He had to approach it from another angle.
“Doctors are like dentists,” he explained. “Nobody actually likes them. They poke and prod you even on a good day. Patients get nervous or distrustful or angry. I don’t think I could deal with that sort of negativity daily.”
Mr. Tsunoda’s mouth twitched. “I get along rather well with my primary doctor and my dentist.”
“Well, you’re an anomaly.”
He chuckled. “I hope you’re an anomaly, too. It would be very discouraging for your father to come home to a son who disliked him based on his profession.”
There were lots of reasons to dislike Ryūken Ishida besides that.
Uryū fidgeted. That was mean.
But Ryūken was mean.
It kept getting harder to remember good things about Dad.
Yeah, playing with the telescope was nice but Ryūken was already showing signs of irritability because Uryū was struggling to master how to tie a tie.
The longer the silence stretched, the more concerned Mr. Tsunoda looked. “Uryū?”
“He smells like antiseptic and cigarettes and is almost always in a bad mood.”
“It’s a stressful job.”
Uryū hated that tone—the one that asked silently for him to be more understanding and patient with his dad when what he needed was to complain and feel heard.
“When you’re older, you’ll understand.”
For some reason that pushed his final button and he snapped, “I don’t want to understand. And I don’t want to be a doctor anymore. Can I learn more about chiaroscuro now?”
Or were they going to debate that, too?
“Yes.” Mr. Tsunoda reached for some books and videos about art techniques on the book cart beside him.
Way more options than what Uryū had been expecting. “Wow, neat. Thank you, Mr. Tsunoda!”
“Did you know that the medical fields have a long history of depending on art for procedures?”
Uryū nodded.
They got to talking about anatomy and cadavers and creepy practices of body snatching throughout the ages around the world and talking about books and documentaries they’d seen.
There were even black market organ donations still going on. It was scary to hear about it on the news.
The time passed so quickly and pleasantly, it seemed like Mr. Tsunoda was trying to apologize for upsetting him earlier.
He read whenever Mr. Tsunoda had a student to help and then they’d pick up their conversation on his return, he was surprised when Juri was suddenly there to pick him up and take him home.
“Awww.”
It made eating dinner alone feel especially lonely.
He half-wished he could make Mr. Tsunoda see and understand this part.
Doctors took care of strangers; their relatives were on their own.
He got the distinct feeling that Hana didn’t like him at all but she liked Fuji. And that was why she was willing to put up with Uryū.
Oddly enough, the whole group knew Mr. Aso and got along with him.
He sometimes stopped by to bring sweets or chat.
“Would you like one?” The teacher asked.
It seemed like some kind of Italian pastry.
Uryū sighed. “My dad doesn’t really like me eating stuff that isn’t from home.”
He’d accidentally let slip that Fuji had shared a treat with him and Dad ordered him to refuse the next time. He had allergies and food intolerances that had to be taken into account.
Juri’s food was safer.
“I see. That’s too bad.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I appreciate the offer. It looks really good.” Uryū tried not to feel disappointed that Juri’s bentos seldom contained a decadent snack. He only got to have fancy desserts at home or if Dad ordered them at a trusted restaurant.
Mr. Aso glanced over at Sasaki’s sketchbook and asked, “Do you have a preferred technique?”
“Ink. All the way.”
“What about you, Ishida? Fuji told me you’re into the arts as well.”
Being put on equal footing with Sasaki, made him feel silly and shy. “I-I… like to sew.”
“And draw dragons,” Fuji added.
“Dragons? You can draw a dragon?” Mr. Aso sounded impressed.
Before Uryū could answer, Sasaki shrugged. “He’s not awful. You know, for a little kid.”
Uryū would take it.
He dug his notebook out to show his latest efforts.
“Very good,” Mr. Aso praised. “Do you take lessons?”
He sighed. “No, Dad only puts me in cram school for testing subjects like math and science and language arts stuff. You know…what he considers important.”
Sasaki looked up.
Uryū felt even more self-conscious.
Sasaki had probably gotten tons of lessons.
“I practice a lot. I-I’m learning chiaroscuro and how light sources are supposed to work from library books,” Uryū explained.
Sasaki’s mouth twitched and so did his spirit ribbon like he wanted to say something mean but changed his mind at the last second.
“Do you sew what you draw?” Sasaki asked instead.
Not an insult.
“Uh huh,” he answered excitedly. “I make prototype ideas. In sewing—it’s-it’s like with proportions—you have to measure stuff so it’ll work. If something’s not working you have to check out why.”
“You should bring a sample in,” Mr. Aso suggested.
He spent the rest of the day and night trying to decide which one was best.
Near midnight Dad came home, opened his door, and told him to go to bed that second.
When he tried to explain his conundrum, Dad told him to bring several.
So he did. He brought key chains, handkerchiefs, a sleeve he’d fixed on a jacket he liked, and embroidery hoops with different designs.
“Yes, I embroider things, too!” He explained proudly to his teacher as he showed off three of his best hoops.
They were all inside Mr. Aso’s classroom because it was raining outside.
“You definitely have talent,” Mr. Aso observed. “These flowers were rendered well.”
Uryū felt his insides glow. It was rare for him to be directly praised like that.
Dad was never so forthcoming.
Harada who’d been sullenly staring out the window, plucking at his long sleeves, burst out laughing. “Flowers? You make flowers, Ishida?”
Uryū’s eyebrows twitched.
Sorry Grandpa, I’m not sure that Harada has any redeeming qualities.
Nasty seemed to be his default temperament.
That was why Uryū was saving him for last. Even Hana Kawano seemed like an easier case than him.
She at least had a sense of fashion; Harada wore the same black long-sleeved shirt under his uniform every day, smelled stale, and his hair was always unkempt—like rolling out of bed was the most he could do. No effort at all.
“Stop it, Sai,” Fuji frowned. “They’re really nice. Probably nicer than the ones my auntie—”
“Hey! I’m not the loser making girly flowers in my spare time!” Harada snapped before sneezing suddenly.
Oh…
Red eyes. Puffy face. Sweating slightly. He kept wrinkling his nose like he was congested.
Was he sick? Was that why he was in such a bad mood?
Why wasn’t he wearing a mask to protect the rest of them from his germs?
He was so inconsiderate.
“Sai,” Mr. Aso warned.
Sasaki gave Harada a look. “What’s girly about flowers?” He showed off a picture of a rose with a skull at the center.
“Yeah!?” Uryū challenged. “Flowers make lots of medicines and shampoos and teas. They’re very useful and should be appreciated.”
Fuji had his back. “Poets and artists and even samurai often use flowers as a theme. They’re famous for it.”
“Whatever.” Harada went back to glaring outside the window and wiping his nose on the shoulder of his blazer even as Mr. Aso offered him a tissue box to use.
“You’ve just got to practice more,” Sasaki told Uryū.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Harada scoffed, “He’s telling you nicely that you suck.”
“Saiiii,” Mr. Aso warned.
Uryū crossed his arms. “I know I’m not as good as Sasaki. But he’s giving me tips. And I believe in improvement. How else will I become more skilled? And I need to get better and fast.”
“Why?” Sasaki asked bluntly. “What’s the rush?”
“I’m going to make a tie for my dad for Father’s Day.”
Sasaki snickered. “Really? You still make your dad stuff?”
“Yeah. I’ve got an idea—”
“Bet it’s gonna suck,” Harada grumbled. “But you’re a suck up so that checks out.”
Uryū talked over him. “Are you gonna draw something for your dad, Sasaki?”
“Ha! You think he’d want this?” He was working on an ogress with a tongue that split into snakes.
“Can you… not make other things?” Uryū asked, genuinely curious if macabre was the only genre the older boy could do.
Sasaki flushed. “Of course I can! I just like doing stuff like this.”
“Oh.”
“Who taught you to sew and embroider?” Fuji asked.
“My mom. And my Grandpa.”
“And they’ve always been supportive?” Fuji asked.
“Yes.”
Sasaki nodded. “You want my real advice with art?”
“Yes.” He did.
“You need to get away from this.” He gestured to the flowers. “And go for this.” He gestured to the dragons.
Hana looked up from where she was painting her nails a lime color that was definitely not school-approved. “You’re setting him up for failure. I’m no expert and I can tell that dragons are way harder than the braid thing.”
“Plaited braid stitch,” Uryū answered. And she was wrong. That was a hard stitch because you couldn’t daydream at all while doing it.
“Yeah. He’s gonna fail,” Sasaki agreed. “But he’s already proved he can follow rules. He’s making these flowers the way other people have told him to. He needs to experiment now.”
Uryū waited for more.
Sasaki faced him. “You gotta fail to succeed with art or you won’t improve. Sticking it safe with stuff people have done a million times over isn’t what your imagination wants. You have to go towards what you actually want.”
Be willing to fail.
Grandpa said stuff like that.
“Maybe then you won’t be such a dopey dumbass?” He finished while Mr. Aso was too distracted by a student’s question to overhear and scold him.
Nope.
Grandpa would never say that.
Notes:
Thank you for reading!
Comments and kudos are 💗🩵💗
Chapter Text
It happened rather suddenly—his next Hollow kill.
A soccer ball had been kicked out of bounds—up and over the school’s wall.
Since it was still hot and humid, Uryū was sitting out of the P. E. class’s scheduled activities.
He was seated in the shade with a bottle of water when his teacher turned to him.
“May as well make yourself useful,” Mr. Hayashi grumbled. “Go get the ball.”
“Do I need a note to leave the premises?”
“Just do what I’ve asked,” he grumbled as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
Wow. So he was going to smoke right here?
He raised a bushy eyebrow. “Get a move on, Ishida.”
“Yes, sir.”
The other children used a back up ball in the meanwhile.
Uryū got up, dusted his uniform off from sitting on the ground and began the long walk out of the school.
It had been a while since he’d walked anywhere alone.
After all the guards and servants had died, Uryū had had to learn how to get to school. Grandpa had accompanied him a lot until it was clear he knew the way.
Then, Dad hired new staff and he was driven again. Though, sometimes he’d sense Grandpa near the house and leave to meet up with him.
Or sometimes he’d just follow his spirit ribbon to his training spots.
It irritated Dad a lot. He told him repeatedly to stop going over there and learning about their family’s heritage.
But he wouldn’t give back those afternoons for anything.
Even ones where they were just doing laundry or cooking.
When Uryū was in the main building, he got a case of cold feet.
What if the security guard accused him of being a truant?
What if there was a police officer patrolling the street?
He hurried over to the administrative office to make sure he wasn’t breaking rules.
The receptionists were busy managing adults’ needs and ringing phones.
Was he wasting time?
Should he just take his chances?
Was Mr. Hayashi going to punish him for taking too long?
“Hello there, Ishida.”
“Principal Satō,” he greeted.
He noticed Uryū was in his P.E. uniform. “Too much sun? The nurse’s office is over there.”
“Oh, um, thank you but no.” He explained the situation and hoped he wasn’t getting his teacher in trouble.
“I see. I’ll write you a note in case the security guard stops you.”
“Thank you very much, sir.”
Funny. How a small note of permission could grant such peace.
With the note in his pocket and a cheery wave from the principal, Uryū moved with confidence.
He took one deep breath savoring the air conditioning before stepping back out into the heat.
He spoke with the security guard who seemed amused by his nervousness and his desire to show that he had the principal’s express permission. He opened the gate. He also promised to keep the gate open until Uryū’s return.
So apparently, Uryū wasn’t being viewed as a flight risk. That was good.
He must seem studious and respectable.
That was very good.
Only, the moment Uryū was beyond the gate and walking along the sidewalk, he got an eerie sense of wrongness beyond simply being ordered around like a servant.
Though, his dad probably wouldn’t like that he was asked to do this rather than a school aide.
While it was kind of outlandish to assume he would be kidnapped, he and Mom had used to watch dramas where that happened all the time.
And she’d been pretty adamant that Uryū, as heir of the Ishida Estate, needed to be very aware of his surroundings at all times.
He looked around and saw the soccer ball in the gutter.
Mindful of traffic, he went to pick it up and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
Hollow!
He barely dodged a tentacle and rolled under a nearby bench.
The ground shook as the malevolent spirit burst out from the sewer taking a chunk of cement with it.
Another tentacle lashed out and sent a tree toppling.
As the monster roared with a mouth that reminded Uryū of lampreys, he shifted to manifest a bow.
“Just like you practiced, Uryū,” he coached himself. “You have to be comfortable shooting from inconvenient positions.”
With bow in hand, he carefully notched an arrow.
He took a deep breath and, as he exhaled, loosed his arrow.
He aimed for the mouth like it was a bull’s eye.
The mask shattered and the monster dissolved.
Just. Like. That.
Wow…
He did so much better than usual.
He hadn’t had time to worry. Just had to react.
Wow! He did such a good job! Took it down with ONE arrow and no running around. First try!
Sensei and Mom would be so proud.
“Hee hee.”
Maybe… maybe even Dad would—?
“Hey there, young man. Are you alright?” A man asked.
“Ack!” He hastily got out from under the bench. “Uh, yeah. I… uh, saw the tree fall and... and… I thought it was the start of an earthquake,” he finished lamely. “But it must’ve just been loose roots.”
That was totally believable, right?
“Hmm. Yeah, the ground sure rumbled. Is this your ball?”
Uryū had lost sight of it in the commotion. “Oh! Yes, sir. My class kicked it out of bounds. I’m supposed to retrieve it.”
“Well, here you go.” The man held it out.
Uryū accepted it and bowed. “Thank you, sir.”
Blonde.
The man was middle-aged and blonde.
There was something relieving in seeing another person who was different. Like him, like Fuji and her friends.
Though, this man seemed kinda eccentric in his fashion sense.
What an ugly hat?
And why wear geta sandals if you didn’t have to for a festival?
So uncomfortable.
“You take care.”
But at least he was nice, though his spirit ribbon was strangely flat and quiet.
Odd. Still, that was none of his business and this was taking long enough that the teacher probably thought he was goofing off.
He needed to hurry back.
“I will. Bye, Mister.”
“Bye bye!”
The newspaper rustled.
Dad had already eaten dinner at the hospital. He was just sitting here at the head of the table, half-ignoring him.
Honestly, what was the point? He wasn’t even talking to him.
Uryū picked at his plate. He wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong but Dad was annoyed.
At him.
He could sense it.
“How was school?”
He nearly dropped his fork in surprise. “It-it was okay. For me. I heard Kato sat on top of his desk during the break even though Mr. Aso warned him not to and he rocked back and the desk fell over and he hit his head against the floor. He bled and they had to call an ambulance.”
“Ah. I’m sorry to hear that. That must’ve been upsetting to see.”
Uryū shrugged. “I wasn’t there when it happened. I ate lunch outside on the bleachers.”
“Hm. It wasn’t too hot out there?”
“No. When I came back to the classroom, a specialty janitor had been called because of the biohazard.”
“…”
“We went to the auditorium and watched a documentary but mostly everyone just gossiped about it.”
“Nothing else of note happened?”
“Umm,” he hesitated.
There was something odd going on here.
“Uryū?” His voice was terse.
Had someone told his dad that they’d seen him wandering around during school hours?
Oh no, Dad didn’t think he was ditching, did he?
He reluctantly told him about his P. E. class and the teacher sending him out to retrieve the ball.
“Hn.”
He fidgeted. This was usually where he’d try to omit some things.
“Uryū? Have you more to say?”
Sensei would be disappointed in him if he lied to Dad without even trying to tell the truth. “I know… you hate Quincy stuff but… a Hollow attacked me and I had to defend myself.”
“You shouldn’t have engaged with it. That’s dangerous. Leave it to the Shinigami.”
“That wasn’t really an option. Plus, Dad! If I went back without the soccer ball, I’d have looked like a complete wuss who was scared of crossing the street!”
His reputation would’ve been tanked as a scaredy cat crybaby before the first month was through.
That couldn’t be allowed.
His father disagreed. “You need to prioritize being safe over looking cool.”
“Were you ever twelve?” He asked flatly.
“Watch your attitude.”
“Sorry, sir.”
This wasn’t going the way he wanted.
He wished Dad had been impressed instead.
“You’re fortunate; it must’ve been an especially weak Hollow for a child to vanquish it.”
That hurt. It leeched all the good feeling out of his accomplishment.
That his success was just a fluke.
“In the future, refrain from engaging with them as much as possible,” Ryūken mandated.
He nodded.
Silence resumed, occasionally disrupted by another turn of the newspaper.
Still, his father had been gone a lot the last few days so Uryū needed to make use of this occasion, even if the timing was bad. Otherwise, Ryūken would probably vanish for another few days and it would mess up Uryū’s plans.
He had to stick to a schedule if he was going to succeed.
He sucked in a breath and asked, “Dad, can I get a sewing machine?”
“What would you need a sewing machine for? I thought you preferred hand sewing and needlepoint?”
Uryū set his knife and fork down. He sat up straight. He’d watched grownups in dramas this week on the television pitch plans to their bosses and their mannerisms seemed on point.
“I’m expanding my skill set.”
The newspaper lowered enough that he could see his father raise an eyebrow. “Oh? How do you figure that?”
Uryū had also made a point to read some chapters of an interview book at the university library this week and tried to apply the confident language of business. “I feel like it’s a meaningful use of my time. It’s important to make things that contribute to the environment of our household. And this is a tangible craft where improvement will be easy to measure.”
“I see.” Another page of the newspaper turned. “Sewing machines are expensive. It could be a large waste of money if it sits around collecting dust after it’s purchased.”
Uryū almost gasped. “I won’t be neglectful! I’m… not currently being engaged to my full potential…creatively… so I’ll use it everyday, I promise.”
“No. There are books to read. You have homework. Projects from cram school. A high school entrance exam to start studying for. And once you're in high school, then you’ll need to apply yourself even more. Karakura University’s medical program is very competitive.”
Uryū blinked.
Right.
Dad still thought he was going to be a doctor.
Mom… under a sheet… being cut up…
No. No. Not happening.
He was never going to be a doctor if it meant cutting up your wife.
He fidgeted in his seat. Not sure how to communicate that.
Maybe part of him had hoped Mr. Tsunoda would’ve delivered the message?
“You have no right to whine about being ‘bored’ when there’s so much you could be doing that’s more constructive,” his dad told him.
Constructive…
Everything hinged on work and being effective…
And fulfilling Dad’s expectations for him.
Mom died and after that Dad never worried about fun again. Let alone if he or his son managed to find any.
Maybe the telescope moment was a fluke?
But why bother with all of that if…
It made him feel tricked. It made him feel upset. He felt a small but growing anger burning through his fear at the idea of being manipulated like that.
And for what purpose?
Do something nice occasionally for your son so he falls in line later?
So he trips over himself trying to please you and never knowing if he’ll ever manage it?!
Uryū scowled at his plate. “Mom would understand why…”
The newspaper lowered completely and hard blue eyes zeroed in on him. “What did you say?”
The tone was dark and low and scary.
“…” He trembled.
“I asked you a question, young man.”
“M-mom…would… understand that I-I like making things. It helps me relax and-and decompress. Plus… d-don’t you get tired of keychains? I-I think I could make something better.”
The newspaper went back up. “Your keychains are fine.”
Uryū slumped in his chair. “Yeah, right. You never use any of them.”
He abruptly envisioned them being dumped in a trash bin seconds after receiving them.
His eyes stung and he blinked hard.
“They’re safer not being taken to work,” his father replied.
Where someone could see them.
Were they embarrassingly bad?
Uryū shook his head. “I want to make you something else. Something useful-”
“Something only a sewing machine can make?” Ryūken’s voice sounded skeptical.
“W-well yeah. It’d be better. More professional. I could make practice ones first. Improve.”
“What is it you’re trying to make?”
“No! I’m not gonna spoil it. Part of it has to be done on a sewing machine and the other part by hand.”
“Ah. Well, we’ll see.”
Uryū sighed. It wasn’t a yes. But it wasn’t a no either.
He wished his hands would stop shaking.
Why was talking to Dad so hard?
He already knew the answer: when you only had one family member left, there was a persistent, inescapable dread that you’d mess up and make them hate you.
It was really scary.
Scarier than even Hollows.
And Hollows could drool acid on your face!
The newspaper was set down. “Uryū? Is your blood pressure bothering you?”
“Yes,” he lied.
Blue eyes snapped open in horror. His adrenaline spiked. He jammed his glasses on his face and leapt out of bed.
There was a huge Hollow the size of a skyscraper moving through Karakura!
He’d felt the seam rip and it enter their plane of existence.
He raced barefoot to his dad’s room, let himself in, and locked the door (like that would have any effect on a Menos). A terrible roar made it feel like his bones had turned to jelly and he slid down against the door in a heap.
Uryū had no chance of defeating that monster.
None.
Bigger and more powerful than the ones that had killed Sensei combined.
If it broke into Ishida Estate, sensing him or his dad—but mostly him because he was the last Quincy left—he whimpered.
It would be all his fault.
“Uryū? Are you having nightmares?” Dad asked.
No, he was having a crisis.
“Mmhm.” He didn’t trust himself to speak.
There was a sigh. “Come here, it’s alright. It’ll pass.”
He shakily pulled himself to his feet and hurried to the bed.
He curled next to his dad, under the blankets, horrifically aware that it’d be harder to defend them this way—to manifest his bow.
But… his skills were too weak to matter much either way.
If the Menos killed them, at least they’d be together.
Unlike Sensei.
He sniffled and his sight blurred.
Warm hands pushed his hair back and passed over his ears. “Shhh, Ryū, you’re getting yourself all worked up. You’re safe.”
No, he wasn’t—they weren’t.
Would Dad be angry if he brought up the Hollow?
Was ignorance bliss?
He buried his face in his dad’s shoulder and tried to put all his faith into the estate’s spelled architecture to protect them.
“Now, now, try to sleep. I have a surgery to perform tomorrow and you have your first big test. We need rest to use our best judgment.”
Yeah. If they were still alive tomorrow.
He trembled.
“Shh.” Dad removed his glasses and set them near his own on his bedside table. “It is alright.”
Everything was blurry.
Uryū didn’t want to give up his powers the way his father had but…sometimes, he wished he could switch his powers off. Only, that felt disrespectful to Sensei’s sacrifice.
A squeak of grief and fear escaped him.
A warm hand stroked his back. “Go to sleep, Ryū.”
Yeah. And hope for the best.
Hope in the Shinigami who betrayed Sensei…
That was hard.
Shinigami…. who were supposed to deal with all these Hollows but seldom did.
Leaving all of them in danger.
The Quincies, and the humans, and the spirits…
Failing all of them…
Uryū woke up alone.
For one crazed minute, he thought the Menos had eaten Dad.
But no…no…
On concentrating, he realized his father had simply gone to work.
Uryū was usually a light sleeper. That he hadn’t woken at all was a little embarrassing.
He slipped out of bed and took up his glasses.
Uryū padded down the hall to his room and found his school uniform had been set out for him.
Uryū’s tie had even been pre-tied.
All he had to do was slip it over his head and tighten it.
Which was a relief because, even after sleeping in, he was really tired.
Omurice was served to him for breakfast.
Juri took his temperature, wrote it down, and then took him to school.
He wished him well on his test and told him firmly if he was feeling at all sick at any point to call home.
Even if it was before the test—don’t worry about the test—call Juri.
Juri could come pick him up.
He was so nice to him.
For one wild minute, he wanted to beg Juri to be his dad.
Even though he knew things didn’t work like that.
And that even if they did, it wouldn’t be all roses.
He knew Dad had hinted before that the generation gap between himself and Sensei was too great and that it was difficult having an “aged” parent…
All Uryū knew was that he wanted a dad who was nice to him.
Juri was like Grandpa.
Calm, compassionate, and kind to him day in and day out.
Could spend hours with Uryū without getting annoyed by him.
Dad could barely stand him for a maximum of three hours every other night.
Sometimes, it made him feel like he didn't want to come home.
Sometimes, he wondered if anyone would even notice.
He shook his head and tried to banish the thought.
Juri would care.
Notes:
Thank you for reading! : DDD
Chapter Text
Uryū liked the computer lab. Perched in a chair with a keyboard under his hands made him feel very grown up. The downside was… he was a little behind the learning curve in this area. Dad never let him borrow his computer because it “wasn’t a toy.”
Except from what he was seeing, it could be. Kids in his class were skiving from the typing lesson to play games instead while the teacher was distracted with students who were struggling.
There’d be stifled laughter and encouragement and soft curses.
He focused back on his screen and improving his typing speed and accuracy. He had 98 percent accuracy… but was 2 words per minute.
He needed serious practice. But the screen was kind of bright and his eyes were tired. He stifled a yawn.
Dad always made a big deal about penmanship. Because Uryū was left handed so he had to try even harder not to smudge anything. But now the teacher was hinting that typing and data entry skills were the new competitive edge that business fields wanted. He’d also suggested that from this grade on, typed papers would be more popular.
Uryū needed to do well now to do better later. He’d make a point to talk with the teacher about free times to practice in the lab or other tips. Maybe he could ask for a note explaining to his dad that he needed time to practice with a keyboard?
He did that after class.
Mr. Watanabe was very understanding.
Computers were expensive machines and he could understand why Uryū’s dad was reluctant to let him “mess around with one.”
He wrote him a note to take home, explained when the open lab hours were if he wanted to practice, and commended Uryū for his diligence.
Uryū ended up spending lunch alone so he could concentrate on his notes for the test next period. It felt like he’d barely had time to eat anything before the bell rang for class.
Oh well.
He was too nervous to eat anyway.
First big test.
He had to do well.
He’d gauge what kind of difficulty to expect in middle school and who his main rivals would be.
It was laughably easy.
Almost disappointing. No trick questions. He’d checked three times.
Still, he’d aced it, that was what mattered.
It was all stuff he’d studied.
The day continued.
He was kind of fuzzy on the details of his last class and kept yawning. He’d probably need to re-read the chapter they discussed in class.
There was such a feeling of relief as he sensed Juri nearby waiting in the car.
Uryū fell asleep on the ride home.
“Young Master? Young Master? I’m sorry, but we’re home now.”
“Home,” he repeated back. “Oh! Home. Right. Sorry, Juri.”
Juri frowned worriedly when he wasn’t hungry for a snack and when emptying his bento because his lunch had barely been touched.
Uryū took a bath, changed into comfortable clothes, and did his homework.
Though, he’d had to station a tissue box nearby.
Whenever he looked down, his nose started to run.
Stupid allergies.
When dinner time came, he had a headache and was a little nauseous.
He picked at his meal.
Juri took his temperature again and made a call.
Uryū checked his homework and set it in the tray on Dad’s desk.
He didn’t have enough of an attention span to watch T.V. so he went to his room, climbed onto his bed with his art supplies, intending to practice, and promptly fell asleep.
He stirred to the bustle of things being taken off his bed.
He knew that energy.
“Dad?”
“It’s dangerous to sleep with sharp instruments, Uryū,” Dad scolded as he put the colored pencils and protractors back on Uryū’s study desk.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to…fall-” He yawned.
Dad felt his forehead with his hand. “You’re fevering. Have your classmates been ill?”
Harada…
“Yeah. Harada didn’t even wear a face mask this week.”
Ryūken’s eyebrows furrowed. “That was irresponsible of him.”
“Yeah.”
“You should’ve told me or Juri. We could’ve had you taking vitamins to fortify yourself.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s too late now. You’ve caught a cold. You’re staying home tomorrow. You’re probably contagious.”
“Oh…Okay.” Sleep sounded wonderful. He didn’t bother changing into pajamas and just got under the blankets of his bed.
Dad sighed, pulled the duvet up, and turned off the bedside light. “Goodnight.”
When Uryū woke up the next day near noon, he found his humidifier had been set up.
It helped with his congestion.
He wondered if Yuna or Juri had set it up for him.
Yuna could be very quiet. It was probably her. Maybe he could do something nice for her? Though what was kind of hard. She always seemed a little nervous around him. She’d been hired on right after the… Carbon Monoxide Massacre where the household had all… died.
He got the feeling that it wasn’t dislike—hints from Juri suggested she thought Uryū was sickly and was scared of upsetting him.
He took a bath and dressed for comfort.
Juri made him miso dumpling soup.
“Can I watch T.V.?” He asked hopefully, aware that Juri had probably been loosely put in charge over him and was a bit of a push over.
The old man looked conflicted. “You’ve been watching a lot of T.V. lately. The Master doesn’t approve. He wants you to spend this time resting.”
Dad doesn’t care about fun? How typical.
“Pleeeeease, Juri? All the other kids in my class talk about shows they’re watching. I never have anything to contribute because I don’t watch the series regularly.”
Juri’s expression faltered and Uryū knew he’d won him over.
“Very well.”
He was supplied with comfy blankets and water and popsicles.
He tried watching some of those cartoons that were popular among his peers but he felt so different from the main characters, it was frustrating.
Alienating.
Normal kids from normal families getting thrust into abnormal situations.
Nobody died.
The risks always paid off.
And they always had tons of friends despite having bland personalities.
Or maybe that was the secret?
One needed to be bland to have lots of friends?
That was depressing.
He had to be overthinking this.
There was a sensation of pressure and heat.
He felt his face. It hurt. He took his glasses off. He rested the heels of his palms against his eyes.
“Is your fever spiking?”
“Dad?” He mumbled. He was home early.
Or was it later than he thought?
He’d lost track of time.
A large hand touched his face gently.
“Dad, it’s not fair,” he complained. He pointed at the screen. “Everyone in those cartoons had both of their parents and everything always went right for them and that’s not fair. It’s not fair. All the kids in my class like these shows. I wanna be like them-”
“Your fever-”
“It’s frustrating-”
“Uryū-”
“I miss Mom.”
“I know.” He was picked up and carried upstairs.
The world swirled dizzyingly.
“I miss her.”
“I know.”
“I miss her.”
“Uryū,” he was warned. “I heard you the first time.”
His breath began to hitch.
His father sighed.
Uryū’s head throbbed and there were no cool fingers to brush away his hair and no soft voice to tell him everything would be alright because Dad was a doctor.
It wasn’t a soothing fact anymore.
“Mom?” Would you still praise him so much, knowing he’d cut you open like that?
“Shhh. Rest.”
He entered a fitful sleep where he was lost in a mall that kept changing so he couldn’t find his way out. And his powers weren’t working so he couldn’t find anyone he knew and follow their spirit ribbon.
He couldn’t find Dad anywhere.
He woke up to icy wetness on his face.
There was a damp cloth on his forehead and it was making him shiver.
“Drink this,” Dad told him.
He reluctantly did so.
Green tea.
“You were having bad dreams,” Dad stated from where he was sitting in a chair nearby.
“…”
Mom would always give him a soft, reassuring smile.
Dad’s face was always so stony. Cold. Bored.
“Uryū.” His tone warned him against lying.
He blurted it out, his dream, even the powers part. How scary it was because he couldn’t find him and the mall kept changing.
“Mom always said, she always said… if there was a crowd… to go to you. Go to you. But I couldn’t sense you, Dad. I…”
“Hm.” Another cooling cloth was pressed to his neck.
“Stop, cold.” He squirmed away a little.
“No. Stay still. We have to bring your fever down. If it climbs too high, I have to take you to the hospital.”
“Urgh.”
“That was a silly dream, Ryū.” The washcloth was wiped against his neck to his collarbone and then behind his ears.
He shivered. “…It felt scary.”
“I realize that, but all you would need to do in a situation like that is wait with a security officer. They would make an announcement over the intercom or a phone call to my office depending on whether we came together or not. You would only need to be patient. I would come get you, Ryū.”
“Oh.”
“I’m telling you this so you won’t have to worry anymore. Bad dreams are often products of worry from our mind when we’re awake.”
“…”
“You just started a new school. It feels unfamiliar. I’ve been very busy with work so it feels like you can’t find me. But I am right here.” The cloth was wrung over a bowl and then dipped again. “And when I’m not, I’m a phone call away.”
“Oh…”
“You just need to memorize my numbers or we can write them down.”
“Okay. Just a silly dream.”
“That’s right.
“Ask an adult for help if something scary happens and they’ll call you.”
“Yes, that’s how it works.”
“That’s…how it works,” he repeated back softly. “Okay…I think I… feel better knowing all of this.” His eyelids felt heavy.
“See? You just needed to think these things through.” A warm hand carded through his hair. “Now rest.”
“G’night, Dad.”
“Good night, Ryū.”
When Uryū returned to school three days later, it was to a fretful Fuji.
She almost leapt down the bleachers to greet him that lunch. “Oh good, you’re okay.”
“Y-yeah, I just caught Harada’s cold,” he grumbled.
He noticed the other boy wasn’t there.
“Sai…His family finally kept him home to recover. Probably has pneumonia by now. They’re so strict with him. They hate when he misses school.” She looked sad.
“Oh.” This was probably the part where he was supposed to express compassion… but Harada was so mean and he’d gotten him sick in the first place!
Fuji gestured for him to follow her back to her spot. “I realized that I don’t know where you live, I don’t have your phone number, I don’t even have your email so I couldn’t check up on you. So let me write it all down.”
“Email?” Uryū murmured.
She was appalled by how little he knew about emails.
All he knew was that his dad got them from the hospital and so he sort of associated it with boring work. Like quarterly taxes.
According to Fuji, everyone who was everyone had an email.
Sasaki stared at her. “He has an elementary school cat charm on his bento bag, Sumi.”
“Cuz it's lucky, duh,” Uryū replied.
“He lives under a rock,” the boy concluded.
“I do not!”
“Do too!” Sasaki snapped. “You don’t know anything about anything that matters.”
That was too far.
Uryū drew himself up and hissed, “I’ve been number one in every grade and I’ll be number one here, too. I know lots of things.”
“And now you’re going to learn another thing. Emails.” Fuji smiled brightly, hooking arms with him and de-escalating the tension with ease.
She took him to the computer lab and walked him through the basics of how to set up one and showed him hers.
He just had to think up a good name as an email address and then he could make an account.
One that no one else had already claimed.
He thought hard about it.
Something cool.
Something true to himself and his values.
Something lucky.
He bit his lip as he typed the perfect username:
StormDragonKnight787
Dad very reluctantly let him practice typing up some of his essay assignments on his computer.
The worst part wasn’t just that he remained in the room—it was that he stayed in a chair stationed beside him and was there watching over his shoulder and correcting which kanji he used to better explain an idea.
This was his father’s version of compromise: once a week they could do… whatever this was.
Thankfully, practicing at the computer lab and, once he’d explained his situation to the cram school instructor, practicing there as well allowed him to improve.
Oddly enough, Ryūken seemed to think their sessions were responsible for the progress he was making.
Doctors… they liked to take credit for things beyond their control and dismiss other things that did result from their actions.
A patient healed—praise the doctor.
A patient died—the doctor did all they could.
“Your language choices are becoming more precise,” his father observed.
“Thanks.”
“You’ve probably realized by now that different social contexts have different expectations—when to be indirect so as to avoid conflict and when to be precise so as to avoid mistakes.”
Sure.
Ryūken nodded as if pleased by his observation or at the sound of himself talking.
Uryū stayed quiet.
He got the feeling more and more that his dad didn’t actually need or want responses when he spoke.
He wanted to be heard and obeyed.
Respected.
He was very traditional in that sense.
Or maybe he had become used to the hierarchy of the hospital? With everyone deferring to him that when he came home, he expected it here, too?
“Have you finished the rest of your homework?”
“Yes.” He reached down for his backpack and pulled it out.
He handed it to Dad who set it in the tray.
There was a beat.
“You may watch one hour of television after completing your homework.”
He held in a sigh.
“Recently, Juri permitted you more time, but I fail to see the value. Research is finding detrimental effects on children’s minds when media is taken in at an excessive rate.”
It was good while it lasted.
“However, since your peers are leaving you out of conversations due to this...” He pulled out a TV guide he’d apparently purchased. “Circle the ones they are watching. I’ll review them and select what I feel is most appropriate for you.”
“…” Was this a compromise? Was he supposed to be grateful? Dad was going to monitor his T.V. choices now?
Ryūken pushed up his glasses. “You likely don’t remember but you made yourself upset watching too many cartoons last week.”
“…” Nope. He blinked. Didn’t remember.
“I thought as much. As I said, you circle the ones they’re watching and I’ll select one that best suits your developmental stage.”
He felt his face heat up. That made it sound like he was still a little kid.
But if he whined, Dad might actually select little kid programming to spite him.
“Okay,” he accepted the guide. “Thank you, sir.”
“I like Radiohead!” Uryū volunteered.
“Well, I guess there’s hope for you yet,” Sasaki replied without looking up from his sketchbook.
Harada was back and as prickly as ever.
There was a flash of silver in his hands.
Quincy Cross was Uryū’s immediate thought but that was silly.
He was still disappointed to see it was just a box cutter.
“Nicked it from the science lab,” Harada said proudly.
“Why?” Uryū asked genuinely baffled why he’d want it. It wasn’t even in a utility holster to make it more wieldy.
Harada sneered. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yeah, that’s why I asked,” Uryū scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It just seems dirty and dangerous. What if you forget that it’s in your backpack and you reach in?”
“What’s life without a little sting—”
“Sai, get us some sodas,” Sasaki ordered. He thrust a wad of money at the other boy. “For all of us.”
After Harada left, Uryū whispered, “I… I’m not supposed to have soda without my dad’s approval.”
Sasaki stared at him. “So, do you… not want?”
“I love soda. It’s just… I might get in trouble.”
Sasaki snickered. “How? I won’t tell. They won’t tell either. C’mon, you think we all have nothing better to do with our lives that we’re going to march down to Karakura Gen and snitch to your dad that you dared to drink a soda? Without his blessing?”
“…I have hypotension. If I have too much sugar, it could trigger an episode.”
“Episode of what?” Fuji asked in concern.
“Fainting.”
“How do you not trigger it?” Fuji’s expression was serious.
“Drinking lots of water helps.”
“So then, can’t you… have the soda aaand have water?” Sasaki suggested.
“Yeah but my dad usually monitors—”
“You both plan on him doing that for the rest of your life?” Sasaki asked sardonically.
Uryū fidgeted. “You promise you won’t tell?”
Because Dad hated being defied. Uryū tried to only defy him blatantly when it really mattered.
The older boy gave him a flat stare. “I completely and wholeheartedly promise I won’t rat you out to your anal retentive dad for dumb shit like this.”
“…Okay.”
“…”
“Umm. I’m not sure how this works. Do… do I pay you or-?”
“You don’t understand how friendship works?” Kawano rolled her eyes.
“I lost most of my friends when my mom died. We were too little to pay for stuff then. So I don’t really know the etiquette. Sorry.”
There was a heavy beat and then—
“Nah. I’m treating us all,” Sasaki explained. “When you’re in a group like this, you take turns bringing stuff. Snacks. Drinks. Stuff.”
“Oh…thanks, Sasaki.” Uryū felt a little better now. Maybe he could ask Juri for ideas?
When Harada came back and divvied out drinks, Sasaki opened up his black backpacks.
“Oi Ishida, since I’m sure your dad doesn’t let you read this stuff either—” He flashed the insides of the backpack: manga instead of books and school supplies. “Here.” He rifled through and selected three. “Live it up. You can give them back when you're finished.”
“…”
“Artists don’t improve without seeing other artists’ work. You’re not slacking off. You’re studying art.”
It felt very forbidden.
“O-okay.”
Still, drinking mango-flavored soda and reading comics about superheroes… and not having lightning strike him dead made him seriously question how many of Dad’s rules were actually necessary.
Notes:
Thank you for reading!!! 😎
Comments and kudos are 🎉🩵🎉
Chapter Text
Mrs. Mori, a nice older lady who was a supervisor at Karakura Public Library, led Uryū over to the young adult section.
“I can’t get over how big you’re getting. I remember when your mother brought you for story times,” she said.
She was one of the few people who could bring up his mother in a cheery way that didn’t make Uryū feel devastated.
“And I’m due for a growth spurt. Any time,” he told her confidently. “My pediatrician said so.”
“Then you’ll be able to reach even the tallest shelves unassisted.”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, it’ll be great.”
Until then, he had to keep an eye open for step stools and ladders.
She gave him a warm smile. “And what were the exact titles you were looking for?”
“Um…My classmate says these—” He opened his backpack and showed the brightly colored manga he’d been allowed to borrow. “—are sometimes at the library.”
“Your classmate is correct.”
“And it’s… okay to read them for-for artistic inspiration,” he justified defensively.
Because comic books weren’t academic books and he was worried this would impact his reputation as a diligent student.
Mrs. Mori reassured him, “Variety is important. Good ideas come from many places.”
He released a breath in relief. “Exactly.”
They started collecting volumes for the different series. Some of the chronology was spotty because certain ones were checked out or missing but by the time they were done, he had a fun stack to take to a table.
He really wanted to check them all out but that would go on his account and Dad checked over what he read.
And then there would be a confrontation over how Uryū was spending his time and things he should have been reading or doing instead.
He sighed and told himself reading them here was fine, even if the chairs were kind of hard and uncomfortable compared to home.
Comic books were the best!
The action! The dialogue! The clothes!
So cool!
He wanted to be cool like that! Saunter in, save the day, and be witty while doing it!
That was the dream!
Uryū, bit his lip before a goofy smile could spread over his face at the thought of defeating a Hollow and showing up a Shinigami at the same time.
Plus, if he got too distracted he could wind up ruining his artwork.
He was using the last part of his lunch break to draw a comic of his own starring Rain Dragon and Sky Dragon.
It was coming together really nicely.
“We're hanging out after school, wanna come?” Fuji asked.
“Oh?” For one moment Uryū felt incredibly flattered and envisioned a myriad of fun activities he’d watched in dramas, then reality set in. “Oh…I have cram school.”
Dad would never approve of him choosing leisure over academics.
He gazed down at the sketch of Sky Dragon…who was…like how Dad used to be rather than what he was like now.
He kept hoping he’d come back but…
He did a little more work on the scales, feeling a surge of affection and resentment and loss.
Dad, I miss you…
Her face fell. “Oh no, well, maybe you can join us another day?”
“Maybe.” He set his pen down and pulled out his planner to show them his schedule.
Fuji studied it all critically. “Can you…pencil in fun somewhere? Maybe in the weekend?”
“Ummm.” No. Dad didn’t do fun.
“This is easy. Ditch cram school,” Sasaki told him.
He sighed. “I can’t.”
Dad would be furious.
“You can.”
“No, I can’t. Juri picks me up from school,” Uryū explained.
“You call your dad by his first name?” Hawano looked up from where she’d been filing her nails, seeming impressed.
“No.” He half-trembled at the thought of being that rude to Ryūken. “Juri works for my dad. If I’m not at the designated pick up spot, he’ll think something bad happened to me. And he’ll call my dad. And my dad’s—”
“Where’s the cram school?” Sasaki interrupted.
He gave the address.
“How long are you there?” He asked.
Uryū pointed to the planner. “Um, since today’s a short school day, it’s four hours with a snack break in the middle. Otherwise, it’s two hours on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday.”
“Then, today’s the day,” Sasaki decided.
“H-huh?” Uryū spluttered.
“Let Juri drop you off. Get your attendance taken down and then leave for the ‘restroom’ and meet us at the front. We just have to get you back in time for Juri to pick you up, right?”
Everyone looked at him expectantly.
It was arguable that Uryū had disobeyed his father in lots of little ways.
Not eating his carrots.
Reading instead of sleeping.
Meeting with Grandpa and training to be a Quincy.
Fibbing about small accidents and mishaps that resulted from juvenile attempts to train himself in reishi-gathering.
Thinking disrespectful thoughts when Dad was being mean for no good reason.
But he’d never flagrantly broken rules his dad set to this extent.
Ditching cram school…
He was so nervous.
Mrs. Shimizu took attendance like she always did.
He asked to use the restroom like Sasaki had told him to.
She waved him off dismissively, just like Sasaki had said she would, and directed her attention to another student who was raising his hand to ask a question.
When her back was turned, he took his backpack with him.
He scurried down the hallway, unsure if he wanted to succeed at this or not.
Fuji looked so glad to see him as he came down the concrete steps, it made him feel a teensy bit better.
Harada handed Sasaki a handful of yen.
Apparently, Uryū had been the subject of a bet.
“I knew you’d show,” Sasaki said.
And they left. Just like that. The ground didn’t split open. No lightning struck. Dad didn’t suddenly appear.
The five of them continued along.
Hawano and Fuji wanted to do karaoke. They thought it was a good way to escape the muggy weather.
So that’s where they went. It was on the side of town Dad didn’t like but not deep in. The city didn’t seem to get noticeably rougher for another two blocks—that’s where the buildings started sporting graffiti.
Nobody else seemed nervous so he tried to act like it didn’t bother him to be over here.
It was surprisingly fun picking out snacks and songs in the dimly lit karaoke room.
They even had the pick of rooms since “the rush” wouldn’t come until later in the evening.
The lighting was all fun neon pinks and blues and greens.
The walls had posters of J-Pop groups. Hawano could name all the members in each one. She giggled over the ones she liked best.
She knew lots of facts regarding their diets and warm-up routines and how they “got their first big breaks.”
The microphones in the room were very smooth and well worn from other people using them.
He had more fun than he expected.
Fuji and Hawano were excited by the fact that he was more willing to participate than Sasaki and Harada, who’d stay in the corners of the room—Sasaki would sketch and sip at a soda. Harada would stare off into the ceiling lights while fiddling with his sleeves.
“Uryū! You pick next,” Hawano insisted.
Mom used to sing along to songs on the radio or as they listened to tapes and CDs. She always encouraged him to join in.
So he picked one of her favorites.
Harada wanted to go to a park next.
It was deeper into the bad side of town where there were chain link fences and weeds and bits of broken glass sparkled between the sections of the sidewalk where broken bottles and broken window fragments had been swept away but weren’t quite gone.
Some of the playground equipment was worn out looking—cracked or sun-faded.
But there was a creek!
He missed his estate’s koi pond so fiercely it hurt. And he felt a hard stab of resentment at his father for taking it away.
He moved closer to the water. There were dark little fish in the murky water. Not as beautiful and colorful as koi but swift and sharp in their movements which made them fun to watch.
Three darker souls approached and he shivered and looked up.
Not Hollows but—
They were humans who felt… mean, cold, selfish… and Harada approached them.
Uryū noticed Sasaki was next to him so he asked, “Does Harada know them?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re so old though.” At least ten or twelve years! “What would they have in common?”
“Did you know there’s a plank that lets you cross over the creek?”
“Really?”
“Let’s find it.”
“Okay!”
They did.
It was a narrow beam of wood someone had set haphazardly across the creek at a narrow spot.
“It looks ugly and unstable,” Uryū complained.
“Sounds like you’re scared,” Sasaki sneered. He easily crossed it foot over foot. “What’s-a-matter, Ishida? Can’t swim?”
Uryū looked down hard at the water. “Not well…Mom got sick just as I was starting lessons and neither Grandpa or Dad would take me anymore.”
“…You didn’t learn at school?”
“Dad kept signing me out for that part of the lesson,” he grumbled, annoyed that his father had set him up for failure and embarrassment. He’d had to decline two swim birthday parties and gradually the invitations stopped coming as parents felt less obligated to invite a full classroom of kids for a child’s birthday as they grew older and more mature. And there went Uryū’s chance to socialize outside of a library or a cram school setting where the other kids always felt he was a rival rather than a playmate.
“Here.” Sasaki held a long stick out. “It’ll help you balance. You just need to make it to the middle. You can do that, right?”
“No.”
He looked annoyed, like Uryū was letting him down.
Uryū drew himself up. “No! I can do it by myself!”
Without any cheats or pitying assistance!
He was the last Quincy! Heir of their household! He would make his ancestors proud!
It was really nerve-racking, setting his left foot down and feeling the plank wobble with his weight.
His first immediate thought was: this is really stupid and this water could be contaminated and lead to a really nasty infection if I fall into it because the board broke.
But he rationalized that if the board could support Sasaki, it could support him.
His third step was probably the hardest because it took him far enough away from his starting point that there was no turning back.
His fifth step was where he felt conviction and he knew he could make it to the other side.
Once he had both feet on the squishy land on the other side, he expected some kind of praise but Sasaki just shrugged, “I guess you’re not a total wimp after all.”
Uryū’s eyebrow twitched. So, he still thought he was a wimp, just not a TOTAL one.
They explored for a while. It was kind of muddy but the shade of the trees gave them some relief from the sun beating down.
Sasaki didn’t have a lot to say other than nature being important for art and to watch out for snakes.
When they crossed back to the main area, Harada was far away, almost outside of the park.
“Why did Harada leave?” Uryū asked.
Hawano, who was playing with a paku paku fortune teller with Fuji, shrugged, “He does this sometimes. He just needs a fix and then he’ll mellow out for—”
“A fix?” Uryū’s head tilted to the side. “What’s a fix—?”
“Oi, Ishida, you want some astronaut training?” Sasaki asked and pointed to a tire swing.
“Yeah! But my eyesight isn’t good enough.”
“What?”
“To really go up into outer space,” Uryū explained.
The older boy laughed a little. “Well, I’m not actually launching you so I think you’ll be fine. IF you can handle G-force—”
“Oh, I can handle centrifugal force!”
“You heard him, ladies! He accepts the challenge!”
That rallied everyone.
All three of the older kids took up a spot to make sure the tire swing Uryū was sitting on could be wound up as much as possible and pushed for maximum acceleration!
“Faster!” Uryū commanded. He liked watching the world swirl by at top speed. “Faster! Faster!”
Sasaki, who was the biggest and strongest, could give a hard push that sent the swing up high.
Uryū laughed and cheered.
Grandpa never did this sort of thing with him. He was too old for stuff like this. He had liked taking Uryū out to fly kites in a field or a flat park meant for soccer. He liked taking him to museums or on nature walks. He preferred to sit or stand and watch Uryū practice at things. Lots of their interactions were that way, human stuff and Quincy stuff. Whenever Uryū got particularly boisterous, Sensei would give him a tough reishi-gathering assignment to do that would tire him out.
It was sometimes frustrating.
He talked like he expected an eight-year-old Uryū was mature enough to walk himself home, but he got nervous if Uryū rushed ahead down the road, or handled a hot pan of oil, or climbed the outside of a slide at the park.
“We wouldn’t want you to need to make use of the family floor at Karakura Gen, would we?” Because the Ishidas being the owners of the hospital meant they had some specialty suites there.
Even his parents, back when they used to take him, would always stress safety over and over to Uryū—
Mom would let him try things but her eyebrows would furrow in worry if she thought it was dangerous.
And Uryū didn’t like seeing her face scrunch up.
Dad was… direct:
“No. Down. Don’t do that. Sit nicely. Watch your foot. Here, I’ll help. That’s enough. We’re going now.”
And that was back when he cared.
Now, if he witnessed something he deemed “unwise” he was cold:
“You’re so foolish. How did you imagine that would go?”
Sasaki pushed him again and his world started to go upside down. The chains he was holding went slack. And there was a moment where he wasn’t sure what was going to happen and it felt strangely freeing.
Then gravity hit and the tire swing straightened back out and he was swinging and spinning again.
Fuji scolded Sasaki. Hawano complained her arms were getting tired and the swing slowed down.
He felt a pang of disappointment—being in the air felt right for a Rain Dragon.
Harada rejoined them. He was way calmer than usual, almost pleasant, but ravenously hungry.
Uryū was a little annoyed with him. He’d said “no” to all the snacks when they were doing karaoke and Uryū had felt bad about throwing away uneaten food.
Mom was always conscientious about that.
Fuji decided it was time for popsicles from a convenience store.
There were lots to choose from.
Uryū got a watermelon flavored one.
Sasaki had a blue one and was talking about stopping at a music store next. Then it would be Uryū’s turn to choose something.
He was a little nervous. He needed to pick something older kids would think was cool, too.
Maybe he should pick a place with a creepy urban legend since they all seemed to think he was a scaredy cat?
There was supposed to be a haunted theater. Or he could take them to the creepy tunnel.
He was weighing his options as they passed by the main entrance of Karakura University when—
“Uryū Ishida!”
He nearly dropped his popsicle. He tried not to look as nervous as he felt.
“H-hi Mr. Tsunoda,” he greeted.
The man frowned as he came down the stone steps. “It is Wednesday. You’re not at Cram School.”
Oh no.
“N-no,” he agreed. “But it’s okay because—”
“Come with me, we’re going to call your father.”
“Uryū!” Sasaki grabbed his arm. “Make a break for it!”
“Release him!” Mr. Tsunoda thundered.
It was almost shocking to see Sasaki immediately comply. Up until now he’d seemed like a rebel.
“Uryū, come with me,” Mr. Tsunoda repeated.
Nobody else tried to intervene.
“Yes, sir.” He sighed and waved goodbye to the others.
To his surprise, their spirit ribbons seemed to feel sympathetic for him.
He’d worried that they only saw him as an annoying tag-along.
Maybe Fuji was right? And they all really could become friends?
Mr. Tsunoda was stern with him. “I never thought I would see the day where you would ditch cram school. What were you thinking?! The Ishida Household has been calling all over the city trying to locate you.”
Uryū cringed. Had there been a second call of attendance after the break?
“Your father himself called here a few minutes ago. Paternal intuition.”
Dad had been worried?
For one moment his heart lifted with hope. He thought of Sky Dragon and the pictures he made and the comic he was making.
Sky Dragon would always care about Rain Dragon—Father-Dragon and Son-Dragon. It was nature at work.
“Did he sound worried-?”
“Why did you disobey your father?” The tone was so full of disappointment and disapproval.
Right.
Dad was probably going to be even worse!
Why did Uryū think he could get away with this?!
His stomach twisted. And he watched his popsicle drip onto the warm pavement.
“Uryū? Answer me. What were you thinking?”
“I…I…”
What was he thinking? It was a good question.
“Uryū?”
The fact was he hadn’t been. He’d just… been living and…something deep inside him cracked.
“I wanted to be like the other kids! They do things! They get to do things besides just school and homework and grades! We went to Karaoke and there were snacks and we went to a park and we went and we got popsicles and I-I just wanted to have fun! I never get to have fun! Not since Mom died! Not since Grandpa died! It’s always just school and cram school and homework and studying and I wanted more-I wanted more than that! For me! For once!”
“Uryū. Take a breath.”
“I just wanted to try and feel happy! To see if I could even remember how!”
“Take a breath.”
“Nobody cares if I’m ever happy again!”
“Uryū, I assure you that a lot of people care—”
“No, you don’t! You don’t! Or you wouldn’t get in the way—”
“Uryū, take a breath.”
He choked up and coughed and realized he was breathing hard and he rubbed his face and realized in embarrassment that he’d started crying.
Mr. Tsunoda asked him very neutrally, “Do you want to finish your popsicle before we go inside?”
“No.” He was feeling sick now. He barely threw it away in a trash can and then he vomited.
Watermelon-flavored liquid splashed onto the cement.
“Uryū!” He called out in concern. “Uryū, it’s alright. Everything is alright. Let’s get you inside. Your face is sunburnt. You’re probably overheated. Let’s get you something cool to drink.”
“…”
“You can sit down in my office and wait for your father there. I’m sure he’ll want to know that you’re safe and he’ll come right over.”
Sometimes, it made him feel sick how adults liked to delude themselves.
Uryū scoffed. “He’s not going to come until it’s convenient for him.”
Which could be hours.
All that mattered was interrupting Uryū’s day and making him miserable. As miserable as he was.
Sometimes, he wondered if this was Dad’s way of punishing him… for surviving when Mom didn’t.
Notes:
Thank you for reading!
Kudos and comments are <3 <3 <3
Chapter 9
Notes:
Disclaimer: I don’t own Bleach.
Hey! The site’s back up! Let’s celebrate!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
As expected, his father made no rush to get him or arrange for a servant to pick him up.
Time passed. Uryū finished his homework.
Mr. Tsunoda had offered him the dinner he packed or to order some takeout, but Uryū wasn’t hungry.
As the sun set, he could feel Mr. Tsunoda getting annoyed.
“I’m sorry,” Uryū murmured quietly. “I wish you had just let me go. Now, you’re stuck with me.”
“I’m not frustrated with you, Uryū.”
Uryū gave him a sceptical look.
“I’m glad you’re here. That you’re not missing. Children go missing, Uryū. It’s a terrible tragedy, especially when it involves a good child, like you.”
Was it less of a tragedy for children that weren’t “good”? What was even the criteria for being good anyway?
He sensed his father’s energy growing closer and that he was furious.
That was what his spirit ribbon warned.
He never raised his voice though. It was just cold and sharp. “Come along, Uryū. You’ve caused enough trouble for everyone today.”
Mr. Tsunoda requested a moment to talk to Ryūken alone.
It was just putting off the inevitable, but at least it meant less time between now and sleeping. He was supposed to be in bed by 9:30 pm.
So he just had to last an hour and twelve minutes with Ryūken.
Eleven minutes.
Ten minutes.
Ryūken reappeared and they walked to the car in silence. It was only broken once they were halfway home and waiting at a traffic light. “Mr. Tsunoda told me that the reason for your blatant disobedience was that you were overtired from your responsibilities and that you just wanted to have fun.”
“Other kids get to,” he mumbled.
“Those other kids aren’t planning to go to med school.”
“…” Lucky them.
“Perhaps, you haven’t earned the privilege of television after all?”
It wasn’t that big of a loss; the show Dad ended up picking for him was dumb.
It was like he had no idea what Uryū actually liked. He sighed.
His hands tightened around the wheel. “Forgive me, Son, am I boring you?”
Uryū looked away, out his window, up at buildings—some of which had a Jibakurei.
And he couldn’t even talk about it because it was just Dad now.
“I miss Mom.” He began to cry.
“Uryū,” he warned.
“When she was alive, I got to leave the house. It wasn’t just house, school, cram school. Repeat. I got to leave! I got to-to do things. To-”
“You know why you need to be home. Until your powers fade sufficiently, you put yourself and others at risk for a Hollow attack.”
“Mom let me—”
“Your mother isn’t here and it is upon me to enforce rules that are for the common good of everyone.”
“…”
“Your grandfather set charms on those locations, so that you may dwell there without incident.”
“I’m trapped,” he whined, half-wanting to open the car door and tumble out onto the pavement and run. “I’m trapped.”
“You are not trapped.”
“I’ll never have friends. You won’t let me. I’ll be as alone and miserable as y-”
“You are being dramatic. There is nothing stopping you from having friends except perhaps your self-pitying attitude.”
“I hate cram school!”
“I thought you were just complaining that you need to go somewhere. If you don’t go to cram school, it will just be work and home.” He shook his head. “School and home.”
“I HATE having to spit answers every time a grownup snaps their fingers and wants me to perform. To prove I’m smart.”
“…We all get called on to perform and prove ourselves, Son. When you’re an adult, you’ll find—”
It was like he didn’t want to hear him. Uryū pressed his face against the seatbelt, letting the edge push uncomfortably against his cheek.
“As someone who’s considered young in his profession, I can tell you from experience that you’ll be in a similar—”
He just continued his boring lecture on discipline and expectation.
It was childish but Uryū knew what would shut his father up. “I miss you, Sensei! You listened to me. You really cared about me and what I want! You never—”
As always his father’s teeth clenched and he hissed, “You are being ridiculous.”
The memory of his grandfather’s mutilated corpse flashed through his mind’s eye. “Why did you have to die like that?!”
“Uryū!”
“Why did you have to leave?!” He sobbed. “Why did you have to—?”
“Uryū, if you are going to make yourself a spectacle, I won’t bother wasting my time any further trying to reason with you. You’re grounded.”
Like that was any different from his regular life?!
“Grandpa!” He wailed harder and his father fell silent.
He sobbed into the seatbelt until his face hurt and he was exhausted and the world was spinning and he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.
He woke up half-expecting to still be in the car.
Even with his glasses off he knew he was in Mom and Dad’s… Dad’s room.
Tucked in bed.
He was still in his regular clothes though his shoes had been removed.
Ryūken was also still dressed, business suit rumpled, glasses askew. He was on top of the covers, shoes still on.
Should Uryū leave?
Except…
His breath started to hitch.
He burrowed into his father’s side and sniffled harder. “Daaaaad.”
“Shhh, Uryū, shhh. It will be alright.”
No, it wouldn’t. Nothing would ever be alright again.
“Foolish thing, you’re going to worry yourself sick. Breathe. Rest.”
His hair was gently pushed back from his face several times. Then his back was stroked.
He yawned.
A heavy arm draped around him and pulled him close.
Warm. Safe. He just wanted to stay—
When he woke up again, he was alone in his own bedroom and Juri was knocking at the door warning him they had ten minutes before they needed to leave.
He had to rush around like a swirling hurricane to get ready.
It was only while he was pulling out his homework that he noticed Dad had set Post-Its. Somehow, he’d reviewed and set Uryū’s homework back in the backpack last night or this morning.
Uryū glanced up at the clock. He had five minutes before his homeroom started.
Thankfully his classes were staggered, so the homework from last night wouldn’t be due until tomorrow.
But Uryū didn’t like procrastinating.
He could review what he could now and use the breaks to address whatever issues Ryūken had found.
He spent lunch in the library in a dusty, neglected corner that let him sneak his lunch as he worked.
He sensed Fuji in the library, but used his spirit-ribbon powers to help him evade her.
Their stupid plans got him in trouble. He needed a break.
When Juri picked him up, it was a surprise to be taken straight home.
“I thought I had to go to cram school?”
“Your father called me this afternoon. You’ll be attending cram school only on Mondays and Tuesdays from now on.”
Uryū was stunned. It was… almost like he was being rewarded only… now he would be stuck at home more. But that was okay, right?
“I’m grounded because of yesterday.”
“It was very scary for us all, sir. With you going missing like that.”
Uryū had been in such a rush that morning he hadn’t realized how unusually quiet Juri had been taking him to school.
He was upset with him. He could sense that very clearly now.
“I’m sorry, Juri.” He told him about his friends' plans and the places they went. He must’ve sounded really happy because something softened in Juri’s tone.
“Well, at least it does sound like it was almost worth it,” the older man remarked fondly.
“Almost?”
“No television, sir. No library trips. No dessert. School work is to be prioritized. Bedtime is now at 9 pm.”
Uryū sighed. Ryūken was such a pain to deal with.
The third evening of his two-week sentence found him in his parents’ closet.
He was light enough he could sit on the upper shelving.
Mom had a sewing machine. It had to be here somewhere. He couldn’t see his dad callously throwing it away—she was his favorite person. He kept her photos around.
He didn’t do that for Grandpa.
It was nice touching her stuff—some of it still smelled like her.
But it was still kind of sad. The staleness…
He tried not to get choked up because he was on a mission.
So many hat boxes and glove boxes and then—finally! There it was!
In a protective shell casing in the corner—Mom’s tried and true sewing machine!
His fingers were just about to free it when—
“Uryū Ishida, you have no business being in here.”
Oh no!
Dad wasn’t supposed to come back until early tomorrow morning! That’s what the calendar schedule in his office said! That was why he was here in the first place. It was supposed to be a simple run.
He went for honesty. “Um… I remembered Mom had a sewing machine. And I don’t think she would mind if I borrowed it to learn and get better. She let me use stuff in her sewing box.”
“I mind, Uryū.”
But that didn’t make sense!
He squinted at him in confusion and his head tilted to the side. “D-do you sew with it?” He couldn’t remember him ever using it!
Ryūken pinched the bridge of his nose. “Uryū, you do not have permission to simply go through your mother and I’s things. Can you even get down from there safely?”
“Um?” It was kinda high up, wasn’t it?
His father’s expression was dark and he crossed his arms. “How were you going to manage carrying that contraption down without breaking it?”
Uryū’s mouth opened and then closed. He kind of… hadn’t thought that far.
He carefully stretched one foot to the hold he’d used to get up here in the first place when—
“Ridiculous.” His father grasped him around the armpits, lifted, and set him down. “You’re lucky I was here to interrupt this mad venture before you broke your neck.”
“…”
His father loomed over him. “That was very dangerous. You seem to be on a roll of making bad decisions lately.”
He flinched. “I’m sorry, Dad. I just thought…but I guess I didn’t think it all the way through.”
“If you still want a sewing machine by the time your birthday comes, I will get you one, Uryū.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now leave, I need to… freshen up. It was a… difficult day.”
Uryū blinked and shuffled forward, expecting to hear more. Had his patient… died? Was that why he was home early?
He felt a surge of empathy and started to reach out.
His father frowned and his voice was hard and low as he said, “Do not make me repeat myself a second time.”
Uryū scurried off back to his room and shut the door.
The weekend was going to be very long and boring.
He ended up spending a lot of it in his bedroom under his bed with a flashlight, drawing and fantasizing.
He liked pretending he was a Quincy scribe hiding out in a dark cave.
He was getting pretty good at drawing Rain Dragon and Sky Dragon.
He finished his comic of them.
It was what Sasaki called wish-fulfillment—it was what he called any art that was “idealized.”
He was of the firm belief that real art was grittier. That it wasn’t afraid of showing ugliness.
Maybe it was because Uryū was used to life being ugly enough, he wanted things to be better in his drawings than how they really were?
It felt like they were both right and wrong at the same time.
He wondered if Grandpa would’ve been proud of him for sensing more of what he deemed “liminal” spaces.
“Some choices you make won’t be clearly in the right or in the wrong—some will merely be the most informed decision you could make at that time,” Sensei warned. “And while you may feel guilt in the aftermath, you cannot allow those heavy feelings to paralyze you from making any further decisions. Self-reflection is good. Self-recrimination is not. Even not making a decision IS making a decision, Uryū.”
“Sooo I could be wrong even when I thought I was right… or was right based on what I thought was right at the time—but make the wrong—wait, what happens to the people affected by my decisions if I was wrong but not consciously wrong and if they thought I was right, too—This is confusing, Grandpa! Are you trying to trick me?!”
“Not at all,” he chuckled. “I’m glad you feel so strongly. There are others who would merely shrug off what follows with no sense of accountability at all.”
“They wouldn’t care?”
“Not as long as they fulfilled their goals.”
“But they fulfill their goals?”
“How you accomplish your goals is every bit as important as the goal being achieved at all. Possibly more so.”
“…”
“It may well be better to fail and harm no one than succeed and cause harm to all.”
“… Is this another one of those things I’ll understand when I’m old, too?” Uryū asked sourly.
There seemed to be an awful lot of them.
Grandpa laughed hard. “Yes, though I pray you won’t need to be as old as me. I have faith you will understand far sooner than I did. You’ve always been very smart and caring about the world around you.”
Uryū smiled as his grandfather set an affectionate hand on his head.
“Uryū?! Are you alright? What are you doing down there?” His father demanded.
Uryū opened his eyes and saw his father’s frowning face a few paces away. The elder Ishida was down on his hands and knees and leaning to see under Uryū’s bed.
The flashlight made his features look even more severe with the way the shadows fell over him.
“It’s dirty and you have allergies,” Dad stated.
Once Uryū wriggled out, Ryūken turned the room’s lights on.
He grimaced at the dust coating Uryū.
He opened his hand for the flashlight which Uryū reluctantly relinquished. “I see the maids are neglecting to clean under your bed. Don’t play ‘dust rag’ anymore. Go take a bath. Immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
To Uryū’s surprise, the dessert ban of his grounding lifted after the first week.
According to Juri, it was because Uryū was losing weight at a swift rate and his father was worried.
Worried.
Juri seemed to operate under the belief that Dad worried constantly about him.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to prove Juri wrong by questioning his father himself, but he made a point to knock on his father’s office door to talk to him.
Surprisingly, Ryūken replied that he’d spoken to his pediatrician on the matter. She didn’t recommend using food as a reward or a punishment.
It was a concession that Dad didn’t always do the right thing.
Dad looked up from a medical text. “Your health should never be compromised as a means of enforcing discipline.”
Cared about him.
Feeling reassured by this, Uryū asked for more tie lessons and explained the risk of demerits.
He bit his lip, he was approaching the end of the grace period.
His father obliged by demonstrating with the tie he was wearing though he seemed annoyed. “Have your teachers been giving you trouble about it? A school dress code shouldn’t cause anxiety like this, Uryū.”
“…Please show me again?”
“If it becomes an issue, tell me.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“I mean it. You should never feel uncomfortable at school.”
Dad showed him again and then had him practice.
Dad’s tie was comically big on him though.
Uryū laughed a little at how long it was.
Dad’s lips curved. “Good, Uryū. You’ve nearly got it. You just need confidence.”
He tried again and did even better.
“Good morning, Ishida,” Aso greeted in a cheery tone as he sat at his desk arranging his organizer.
“Good morning, Mr. Aso,” Uryū replied politely as he set his backpack down at his desk. “Dad helped me with my tie again. I did the tying this time. How is it?”
“Hmm. Here let me see.”
Uryū moved closer, looking hopeful. “I am improving, aren’t I? Dad says I’m improving.”
Aso beckoned him nearer. “You are but…I just don’t feel like the Windsor knot suits you.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“Let’s try a trinity knot.” He reached and untied Uryū’s tie. He smiled. “Here. I’ll help you.”
Uryū stood still as Aso tied it.
“There, that looks nice.”
Uryū frowned in contemplation as he touched his tie. “Is this the knot I should be learning? The school handbook didn’t specify which knots to use and when. I’m getting worried I won’t learn one well enough by the time the month ends. I only have three more days.”
“Perhaps, I can grant you some leniency since you’re trying so hard?” Aso offered.
“Leniency?”
“It’s hard to be good at everything. And yet you always try very hard in all of your classes, I’ve seen you.” He re-folded the collar of Uryū’s shirt and began straightening Uryū’s jacket. “You deserve it. It’s… important for things to balance out.”
Uryū shook his head resolutely. “No thanks, that sounds like cheating. I’ll just have to practice harder. I have three more days. I’ll just have to make the most of them.”
“Such dedication.”
Uryū fidgeted a little shyly. It was nice to be recognized for that.
“Fuji said you have some food allergies? Is that true?” Aso asked in a tone that seemed sympathetic.
Uryū listed out his allergies and sensitivities. “It’s unfortunate because it hinders some of my social interactions because people, since the dawn of civilization, like to use food as the basis for meaningful cultural exchanges, but I remind myself there are others who can’t have soy or wheat. When I visit the hospital and I talk to the gastroenterologists, because sometimes Dad gets busy and I don’t want to just sit in his office, I go to different departments, like theirs—they have all kinds of stories.”
“I see. I see. Well, lucky you! This doesn’t contain any of those things.” Aso reached into his bag to pull out a plastic container of pastries. “I’ll even let you be the first to open the box.” He gave a wink. “They’re from a patisserie near my apartment.”
Uryū’s eyes grew big with delight and he started to reach for the box and then stopped. His body sagged with disappointment. He drew his hands back and his fingers curled into the ends of his blazer’s sleeves. “I can’t. I’m sorry. Dad says I’m only s’posed to eat food from home.” Or if he specifically ordered something for him from a place he trusted.
“Hm. That’s too bad, Ishida.”
Uryū looked down at his shoes. “Yeah.”
Aso gave him a smile and patted his arm. “Dad’s pretty strict, huh?”
Uryū nodded.
“It probably feels unfair,” the man said lightly.
Uryū stared and then took a step back.
“My dad’s a doctor,” he explained. “He takes this stuff very seriously because—”
“It’s his job—”
“—He cares about me.”
“Of course, Ishida. I understand. It’s good you follow his rules… even when they inconvenience you. You’re so mature seeing past that.”
Uryū smiled, relieved Aso could see that and not cause trouble for him.
Notes:
Thank you for reading! :D
Comments and kudos are 🩵💙🤍
Chapter 10
Notes:
Almost couldn't crank this chap out for today! Was running up against the clock!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Uryū was in the school’s main computer lab when he decided to check his email.
There were messages from Fuji.
The first one was nice. He liked reading and rereading that one.
PrincessCreamPuffDreams:
Hey Ishida!
It’s Fuji! I’m glad you made an email account.
See? I told you, you didn’t need to be a grownup to have one. If your dad notices and asks, just say you needed it for class to get homework assignments or updates if you’re absent.
Everyone’s making them nowadays. You don’t want to be left out. That’ll get you teased even more. Trust me.
This is going to be so fun. It’s your first breath of freedom, Ishida! Enjoy it! ^-^
“Heehee.”
Freedom.
Framing it that way made him sound like a rebel. It was nice because most people in his class thought he was wimpy and overly cautious because he’d point out things that were stupid or ineffective.
Then they’d call him a wet blanket and close ranks.
They didn’t get that he wanted them to strategize more or ask him to strategize for them.
There was already a rumor here that he was a scaredy cat because he wasn’t excited to see a new slasher film coming out that month. The fact was Dad steered him away from scary movies and ghost stories and that kind of stuff.
He did that as a way to try and keep him from having too many nightmares because he already had a lot. Losing so many people, and having your dead mom operated on by your dad, and seeing your Grandpa get torn apart by monsters, and seeing those monsters everywhere kinda did things to your subconscious.
But he couldn’t just come out and say all of that.
What if the authorities got involved? What if Ryūken was deemed unfit? What if he was taken away from his dad? He didn’t want to lose the last of his family.
So he just had to endure the injustice of being assumed a scaredy cat.
He sighed and then straightened up as he looked at the screen.
Fuji had been writing to him diligently ever since.
He felt a little embarrassed that he hadn’t been checking regularly and pulled out his organizer to put envelope-shaped bullets as reminders for the future.
There was even a chain of replies that included other emails—it must’ve been the rest of the group.
If Fuji was PrincessCreamPuffDreams then Artblaze_imp was probably Sasaki which meant 2cute4youanyways17 had to be Hawano and Eartoeargrinzclown was Harada.
He focused on the one from today.
PrincessCreamPuffDreams had written:
We’re all going to the arcade today. Come with us, Ishida.
He typed back and sent a reply.
StormDragonKnight787:
My dad won’t like that. I have to go to cram school. He sometimes calls them to make sure I show up. He’ll get mad if I’m not there.
Dad had just started doing that to dissuade him from trying to ditch again. At least he no longer had to attend as often as before.
To his shock, Fuji immediately wrote back so that meant she was on a computer somewhere! Maybe there was another computer lab for older students on another floor?
PrincessCreamPuffDreams:
We can pick you up after?
He wrote back:
Juri drives me home. I have a snack and then read. Sometimes, if Dad gets off work early, he and I have dinner. He checks my homework every night.
She didn’t write back.
So she was either busy or disappointed with him.
He sighed and decided it was time to do what he came here for and practice his typing when—
“Your eyes are so weird,” he was told abruptly.
“Huh?” He looked up from his keyboard.
The comment was from a kid in the row in front of him.
He’d turned around to tell him that?
“Excuse me, what did you say?” Uryū demanded.
“Your eyes. Do you use contacts? You’ll get a demerit.”
Uryū frowned. “No. This is how I am. It’s in my file.”
“Weird.” He turned back around and put on a pair of headphones before Uryū could think up something snappy to serve back.
He searched the desktop and started up the typing program.
How rude. What a-a rude person!
There was nothing wrong with his eyes besides the obvious—he needed glasses.
He tried his best to push past it and practice.
The comment stayed with him all through the school day. All through cram school.
He thought about telling Juri on the drive home but Juri was so likable. He doubted anyone ever teased him about anything. So he wouldn’t know how to help.
When they got home, he sensed Dad was there.
He was off early! He hurried up the stairs to him and peeked into Mom and… Dad’s room… Dad’s room.
Dad was laying down across the bed.
Maybe he could ask him what he thought? As someone with blue eyes and light hair, he’d probably fielded this stuff before. He’d know how to deal with it.
“Da-”
“I am resting, Uryū,” he warned in a low tone.
“…Oh… okay. Sorry.”
He closed the door as quietly as he could and went to the family wing to finish his homework. Juri brought him apple slices and juice and asked if anything was wrong.
He said no.
He was probably being overly sensitive about the eye comment anyway. Blue eyes were weird. Here… at least. He had to toughen up.
Later at dinner, Dad asked, “Did you need to tell me something earlier?”
“Oh…I was going to ask…” He used his fork to push the peas around on his plate.
“Yes?”
Did he really want to start off the school year reporting someone he didn’t even know? That would be pretty lame, wouldn’t it?
He kicked his feet and replied, “If I could practice typing on your computer and time it? I-I think I’m getting quicker, but I’d like to know for sure. If…if you’d be willing to time me.”
“Very well.”
After dinner, Dad turned on his computer and Uryū took a book report he’d written the first half of.
Dad used his watch to time him.
He was getting faster.
He was up to 18 wpm.
“You are improving,” Dad agreed with a nod of approval. “I’m glad you focused on accuracy first. I imagine your speed will only increase.”
A warm hand was set on his head.
“Perhaps when you’re a high schooler I can have you do some data entry for me as an intern?” Dad suggested.
“M-maybe?” He didn’t really want to do any of that but it meant he was trustworthy. Data entry would encompass patient information.
Dad seemed to pick up on his reluctance and smirked. “Aww, that’s not exciting enough, hm? Don’t worry, I’m sure by that point we can balance it with some hands-on clinical experience, too.”
Uryū tried to plaster a neutral expression as he felt a sinking sort of feeling in his chest.
His dad was trying to be nice and offer him a compliment because Uryū used to want to be a doctor more than anything.
To join his father in an operating room and save lives.
Before Dad…performed that autopsy on Mom and…and…cut into her…
The idea of being in scrubs as blood pooled and splattered made him nauseous now.
No. He didn’t want that anymore.
Sometimes, he didn’t even like being in the building.
There was so much death in every corner and on every floor.
His dad was lucky he couldn’t see all the spirits there.
School picture day was coming so Dad preemptively took him to the hair salon a week early. This way if the haircut was bad they could schedule another appointment to fix it.
No sooner had the door bell chimed signaling their arrival, he sensed Mr. Aso.
His stomach immediately flopped and he shuddered, even as he told himself there was no need to feel this anxious. But his feelings were his feelings even if he didn’t completely understand them.
He moved closer to his father. “Dad, can we go? Reschedule? I-I don’t feel so good.”
Ryūken frowned down at him. Uryū’s temperature was taken and his heart rate.
“You don’t feel feverish and I don’t think it’s your hypotension acting up. Why do you think you feel this way? How soon did it start?”
When pressed, he confessed he was nervous and it just started. “I’m sorry. My tummy—”
“You’re being silly, there’s nothing to be nervous about, Uryū. It’s a haircut. You had one a few months ago and you’ll need another in a few more.”
“Um, um, can I just—?”
Ryūken approached the receptionist and checked him in. He frowned when the lady there told him they were running behind schedule.
Dad returned and they sat together and waited. Uryū went through magazines, appreciating all the different styles and trying to distract himself.
The clothes the models wore were usually cool. The expressions they made were funny.
He tried to show his dad the pictures. “They look funny.”
Dad gave him a bored glance. “It’s couture, Uryū.”
“No, the faces. Their faces are—” He tried to imitate the mouth open, dramatic stare.
But Dad wasn’t paying attention to him. He had already refocused on the manila folder of work he’d brought here. He tapped his pen against the paper. He did that when he was annoyed.
He wished he wasn’t annoyed.
“I think their clothes are cool,” he tried.
“Hn.”
Uryū glanced down at the beige trousers and light blue button-down shirt he was wearing and sighed.
He never got to wear anything cool. He glanced to the right.
Dad didn’t dress cool either.
He was always dressed professionally in a business suit. It made it seem like he bounced from one board meeting to another. He kept being paged. He had a car phone.
Over the next hour, he kept leaving to make calls and Uryū couldn’t find a time to tell him about Aso and how he was…creepy…even if that wasn’t a nice thing to say.
But every attempt got Dad more and more frustrated with him.
It was after the fourth call, Dad told him, “Uryū, you’re old enough to handle this. I need to head back to my office at work.”
His jaw dropped. “What?! No, Dad, stay. Please, please, please, I need you to—”
“It’ll be fine.” He handed him money for the appointment and told him to meet him at the cafe on the corner when he was done. “There’s a payphone there. Use that to call me and I’ll come pick you up when I’m able.”
His heart began to pound and he shivered.
He didn’t want him to go. He gripped the sleeve of his father’s suit. If he could just make him meet Mr. Aso, maybe he’d get the same creepy feeling, too? And they could talk about it. “Daddy?”
“Uryū,” he warned and then reminded him, “You are twelve years old.”
Too old to call him that.
Too old to be scared.
He swallowed hard and let him go.
His father sighed. “This will be good for you. Life skills. You need to learn how to do these things. I’ll see you later.”
It felt like no sooner had the bell chimed with his departure—
“Ishida?! It is you. Well, fancy that.”
“H-hi Mr. Aso.”
“We’re not at school. You can call me Sho, here.” He winked.
Uryū gasped. “No, I can’t. My dad would never be okay with that. Ever.”
The man laughed. “Goodness, he is so strict with you. Poor, poor Ishida. Is he like that everywhere? Even home?”
“…”
“What are you waiting for? Come along with me. I’ll take care of you.”
“H-huh?”
“Haru, the owner here, and I are friends. We went to high school together.”
“Mr. Yoshi?”
“Mmhmm. He called me because it’s very busy today and I like to keep my skills sharp. I’m helping him out. When I saw the name Ishida on the waiting list, I volunteered to take you. I had a feeling it was you.”
“O-oh.”
“Come on.”
He was issued a tunic to protect his shirt.
A booster was set down on the chair without comment, thankfully.
It was hard being a short middle schooler. There were already giggles in P. E. because he wasn’t within the bell curve of average heights.
It sucked.
Uryū perched on top and Aso ran his hands through his hair, getting a feel for it.
“What are you wanting, Uryū? Layers? Fringe? Color treatments? Blue-ish tint?”
“I don’t dye it. M-my hair is just like this naturally.”
“Ah. How lucky.”
Mom used to say that. That he was lucky to have such a nice color.
“Dad just wants it to be cleaned up and trimmed for picture day.”
“What do you want?”
“I-I want that, too. I want… to look nice for picture day.”
“Hmm. Very well. Then that’s what we’ll do.”
Aso had him hop down and follow him over to the sinks.
When he was situated there—
“Here, I’ll take your glasses.”
“Oh.” Mr. Yoshi usually let him keep them on.
“I want them to stay safe.”
“Right.” He handed them over and immediately felt vulnerable as the world turned blurry.
Sasaki would probably think he was being a baby. It wasn’t like he’d been asked for his Quincy bracelet.
His head was tilted back onto the sink and warm water was used to rinse his hair.
“I’m going to remove any lingering product,” Aso told him.
“Okay.”
He scrunched and combed his fingers while maneuvering the nozzle around Uryū’s head.
He would gently pull and wring the hair. Then he’d firmly scrub the scalp with his fingertips.
“Still okay?”
“…Yeah.”
“Too firm?”
“Um…”
“You can tell me.”
“…Yeah.”
He handled Uryū with less pressure. “Thank you for telling me. Each client is different. This is supposed to be a soothing experience.” He gently rubbed around Uryū’s ears. “How’s that?”
“Good. Dad sometimes… when I’m upset…”
“He does this?”
“Yeah. Or he cups them?”
“Ah, like this?”
“Yeah, like that.”
“My mother would do this.” He smoothed Uryū’s hair back with his fingertips.
“M-my mom would do that, too.” He missed it. Her. Before.
He closed his eyes and focused on breathing so he wouldn’t cry.
After a few minutes, Aso commented, “You went very quiet. Are you alright? You can talk. It won’t distract me. That was your father with you earlier, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. That’s my dad, Dr. Ishida, er, Director Ishida of Karakura General Hospital.”
“You two look so different.”
“You think so?”
“Yes.”
“I guess, yeah. He’s tall and I look more like my mom.”
“I’m surprised he left you here.”
“Work. He’s always leaving for work.”
“That sounds tough.”
“Patients’ needs are important.”
“I know I’ve said it before but you’re so mature for your age. He’s lucky you aren’t more resentful.”
Uryū squirmed, unsure he deserved that compliment. “…When I was younger I was more…selfish. But as I’ve gotten older I can better understand the nature of his job. It is unceasing and they need him more than I do.”
Aso paused and for a moment he frowned severely as he set the nozzle and hose in the sink. “Has he told you that?”
“Yeah. He emphasizes how important his job is all the time. That’s why I’m not supposed to bother him when he’s taking calls or working in his office. But it’s okay, I’m twelve. I can do lots of stuff by myself now.”
There was briefly a wrinkle along the bridge of Aso’s nose before he smiled again. “Yes, you can. You’re very competent. Top of the class.”
Uryū felt his face heat up. Why was he so suspicious of Aso? When Aso only ever said nice things?
“You’re such a good person, Ishida.”
See?
The man pumped some shampoo into his hands and worked up a lather. “I doubt I would take such a dynamic as gracefully as you, especially at your age.”
“I have a high IQ so there are high expectations for me.”
“Ah. That makes sense. Though, I hope you take care to have fun when you can.”
He bit his lip. “Um… I try but…”
“But?”
It slowly came forth. His day out with Fuji and her? Their? Friends.
Aso considered it all carefully. “While I can’t condone you running off without telling anyone, I don’t think you deserved such a long punishment.”
“Really?”
“A lecture, yes. Maybe no television for a few days. But two weeks of grounding? That’s excessive. Every child should get to spend time with their friends.”
“That’s what I think, too. Otherwise, how will I have or keep any? They’ll feel neglected.”
His hair was rinsed.
Aso reached for a conditioner to add. “What do you think was your favorite part of your outing?”
“Oh… I dunno. A lot of it was neat. I went to places I’ve never been before.”
“Why’s that?”
“Um, Dad doesn’t like me and Mom…er, me over on that side of town.”
“Hmm.”
“Yeah. It’s kind of annoying actually. School. Cram school. Home. That’s my routine. Over and over with an occasional visit to a library or bookstore. Or restaurant,” he finished begrudgingly. “My life is so boring it sucks.”
“Perhaps you can join some extracurriculars? Some sports and clubs have field trips.”
“Maybe.” Those kids were lucky. They weren’t being tailed by Hollows. Dad would never agree to it.
“It upsets me to see you so unhappy. Childhoods are important—they shape the people we’ll become. I had a hard childhood, too.”
Uryū’s eyebrows drew together. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It makes us resilient.”
“I guess so.”
Aso wrapped a towel around Uryū’s head and held it there as he led him back to the styling chair.
More towels were set around Uryū’s shoulders like a capelet.
Though his reflection in the mirror was blurry, he was sure it looked cool.
Aso removed the towel from Uryū's head and squeezed the excess water out of his hair with it. He sprayed detangling products and then gently worked a brush and a comb through the strands.
“I wish I could just whisk you away. You deserve to have fun, Uryū. You deserve better. I hope you know that. I hope your father never convinces you otherwise.”
Maybe this was why Fuji liked him so much?
Maybe this was why he felt so anxious around him? He said stuff that would get him into tons of trouble with his dad if he repeated it? Some kind of sixth or seventh sense had awakened and was trying to warn him not to share this stuff with Ryūken.
Because Ryūken was very strict.
Ryūken didn’t like back talk.
Ryūken would—
“What does Dr. Ishida do for fun?”
“Ryūken doesn’t really do fun,” Uryū scoffed.
There was a hard pause.
The sound of scissors trimming became loud.
Uryū froze.
He had just called his dad by his first name outside of his head. In front of an adult! In front of his homeroom teacher who could totally bring that up in a meeting!
Aso shrugged. “Well, that’s Ryūken’s loss. You seem like a very fun person to be around. If you were my son, Uryū, fun would be something we prioritized.”
Notes:
Thank you for reading!
Kudos and comments are <3 <3 <3!
Chapter 11
Notes:
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Warning: Could be triggering/uncomfortable for some readers: "Grooming" content in the form of unwanted touching/overly familiar behavior between an adult and a minor. Unsafe Adult advocating bad practices of secret-keeping and offering gifts to win trust.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
His fingers dug into the armrests. It was probably all in his head. This was some kind of anxiety manifesting itself into this feeling of impending dread.
He’d read in some of Dad’s medical books how heart failure and arrhythmia could cause feelings like this.
But Uryū was young and his heart was strong even though he had hypotension. His condition likely had something to do with mutations of the DBH gene. Nothing to fuss over. Dad said so.
He was not going to die in this chair. That was silly. Yet, there remained a deep gut aversion to being here.
Uryū tried not to fidget as Aso ran his hands through his hair along with the comb. He didn’t want to ruin the haircut and waste Dad’s money.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
He should feel good that Aso was paying such close attention to his task.
It meant he cared, right?
Professionals were supposed to be dedicated.
Dad was. His work always took precedence over other stuff. Like today.
Uryū’s face was touched a lot, though. He couldn’t help wondering if things would have been different if Dad had stayed.
Sometimes the teeth of the comb rested against his face. Sometimes, it was Aso’s hands.
Fingertips slid against his jaw as his head was turned to study how Uryū’s hair fell.
His hair was ruffled, lifted, pulled back, and arranged.
Somehow, it didn’t feel the same as when his relatives petted his hair.
Mom’s fingers were very light and cool and caring. He was adored—he could feel it in the way she handled him.
Grandpa was slow and careful like Uryū was a delicate bird or fish that might startle. He didn’t want to cause harm.
Dad’s hands were warm and strong and sure. He was safe in Dad’s hands.
Aso’s hands were heavy and made him feel trapped even though the gestures felt familiar.
It was just… off and strangely hypnotic because it made him feel weird, like his mind needed to float away from where his body was. Like when Grandpa died and he couldn’t afford to move because the Hollows might notice him.
He had to be there. Next to the tree. But he didn’t have to be in his body in the moment. It was like that.
Plus, he wasn’t sure where to focus his eyes because everything was blurry without his glasses and that made him feel disoriented. He ended up just closing his eyes. It helped him block some of it out and focus on the pop music playing in the background.
Aso encouraged him to rest. When the cutting was done, products were added in for a “finished” look, which meant more touching.
He physically jerked when hydrating creams were put on his face.
Aso chuckled. “Sorry. I should’ve warned you. It’s cold. But it’s good for your skin. This time of year can be very rough and—”
His eyebrows were combed and trimmed.
His neck and shoulders were rubbed to help remove “tension.”
It was a relief when the session ended. His glasses were returned. The capelet was removed. He jumped down from the booster seat and was free to follow Aso to the counter.
Aso rang him up and Uryū pulled out his wallet. Dad had given him money this morning. He wanted Uryū to get more comfortable paying for things.
Sometimes, transactions were stressful for him. Dropping bills or coins could be embarrassing. But when he tried explaining that Ryūken would just stare and tell him that he couldn’t expect his parents to do everything for him.
Thinking of it that way made him feel bad. Incompetent.
He had to get better. Try harder. So it wasn’t as scary.
Aso pulled money out from his own wallet, put it in the drawer, and printed a receipt.
The money in Uryū’s hand was suddenly heavy. “W-what?”
Aso handed him the receipt. “There. All paid for. My treat.”
No. That… that wasn’t how this was supposed to go.
“But…Dad…”
“Ah, yes. Dr. Ishida.”
He was somewhat stunned as Aso walked him through how much money to give Dad back as change.
“So this amount here is for him. And the rest, well, you can use it however you want.”
Uryū felt his eyes bulge. “But…but… Dad…”
“You deserve fun, Uryū.”
“…Don’t tell Dad?” He squeaked out. Like it was an answer he’d never really considered before.
Aso smiled. “I won’t if you won’t. My only stipulation is… let me know what you decided on next class.”
“But won’t Dad notice if I get things today?”
“Aww, is Ryūken that big of a stickler? No allowance at all?”
“…Y-yeah. I mean, no. I mean, I’m allowed to get stuff but I have to give him my receipts. And he goes through all of my reading materials. He returns what he deems unsuitable."
Aso frowned and then his expression brightened. “How about this? You find your treasures and you bring them here. And I’ll make sure they’re waiting for you this Monday in class.”
No. This was weird.
No. Dad wouldn’t approve.
No. It made his stomach twist.
Grandpa would want him to… not lie to Dad…
Except, he was supposed to hide the Sanrei Glove from him…because he wouldn’t understand and Uryū was supposed to decide important stuff for himself.
Hiding stuff was like lying… but it was okay when it protected your right to choose your future? As a man.
Using Dad’s money to buy what he wanted without having to run it past Dad at all was wrong.
Even if it would make him happy.
But… he…deserved fun.
Deserved to be happy.
Right?
Ryūken never really cared if he was happy anymore. Not since Mom died.
Which kinda meant only Mom had cared about it and Dad had just gone along with whatever she wanted.
What would Mom want?
Mom would want him to be happy. Right?
Manga…like what Sasaki had let him borrow…
The serial numbers that hadn’t been available at the library…
Copies that could be his…
He could use this money and buy whatever manga he wanted and Dad didn’t have to know.
“Okay.”
His heart was beating very loud as he waited in the cafe for Dad to pick him up.
He’d disobeyed again. He was supposed to go straight to the cafe after his haircut and then call.
Instead, he’d gone to the bookstore, bought his books, went back to the salon and dropped the books off, and then he went to the cafe.
Aso had looked at the comics approvingly and said, “Excellent choices. You like adventures.”
Uryū felt his face heat up. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“I’ll have them waiting for you.” Aso smiled widely, conspiratorially. “It’ll be our little secret.”
Secret.
He’d never had a secret with a teacher before. Er… a school teacher before.
Well, sometimes they’d tell him he was their favorite student but not to tell. This was different.
A real secret.
He wrung his hands together fretfully.
Would Dad take one look at him and know? If he demanded answers, Uryū would probably end up spilling.
In the end, it was a moot point—Ryūken didn’t even show. Juri picked him up instead.
It annoyed him because he might’ve been able to smuggle his comics into the house after all.
Juri misinterpreted and thought he was upset because Dad ditched him.
He let Uryū come with him into the kitchens for sweets. To make up for it.
He didn’t have the heart to break it to Juri that he was pretty used to this by now.
Ryūken just… forgot about him sometimes.
Juri was the kind of person that seldom forgot anything. He knew where all his pots and pans and spices and tools were at all times.
He knew his kids and grandkids really well. He could be quizzed about their likes and dislikes. He’d plan out his calendar so he could attend recitals and festivals and all of that stuff.
Ryūken wasn’t like him. Ryūken could leave his son all alone for hours and then send a staff member to go get him. Because Uryū was an afterthought.
For surgeons to step forward and save people, other people had to step aside.
It used to hurt more when he was younger and didn’t understand it as well. But he was coming to terms with it now.
It was life or death.
Dad’s patients needed him.
Uryū was born a genius for a reason:
It was so he wouldn’t need grownups to take care of him.
He was one of the lucky ones.
Imagine if he wasn’t smart? How much harder and scarier life would be?
He ate dinner alone and it was ten minutes before his bedtime when Dad called and a maid brought Uryū a cordless phone.
The conversation was short: the hospital needed Dad to stay overnight. Be good. Go to bed. Make sure to set his alarm clock so he wasn’t late for school. Goodnight.
No sooner had he answered, “Okay,” there was a ringtone.
Dad had hung up.
There was… probably an emergency. Hospitals had tons of emergencies.
He readied himself for bed as instructed.
Uryū couldn’t deny the thrill he felt upon opening his desk that Monday morning and seeing the glossy manga books waiting there.
And there was more!
There were three nice bookmarks, some stickers related to the series, and name plates so he could label the books as his own.
Plus, there was a little note: Enjoy your adventures, my voracious bookwyrm.
Bookwyrm… it was clever…
Book dragon….
He was a book dragon.
He bit his lips but couldn’t hold the smile back.
That fit him, didn’t it?
He set the lid of his desk down and glanced up.
Aso, who was taking attendance from his desk, caught his eye and smiled.
He was so nice and thoughtful, helping Uryū have some fun and getting him extra things even though he didn’t have to.
Maybe Fuji was right about him? He was good.
Maybe this swooping feeling of anxiety was something else?
Maybe Aso had an underlying illness and his instincts were warning him about that?
During the break, he made his teacher promise to keep up on his health and schedule a checkup with Karakura Hospital.
In math class, Uryū raised his hand as high as it could go.
“Does anyone besides Ishida know the answer?” Mr. Chinen sighed.
Uryū looked around. Did no one else know?! It was so easy.
The other kids slumped in their seats. One girl was twisting the end of her braid around a pencil.
“Fine. Ishida, come up to the board and answer the equation.”
“With pleasure. Do you want me to explain it step-by-step since others seem to be struggling?” He asked.
The teacher gave him a flat look. “…Sure.”
“Okay!” He hurried to the board and read out the word problem. “I start by writing out the formulas from the chapter and sometimes I make doodles.”
He began doodling with the chalk to represent the eggs the farmers were counting.
“And I feel like this word problem is boring so I imagine these farmers are raising kappas and it’s kappa eggs we’re counting.” He shaded one egg in. “Pretend that’s blue and mystical.”
“And squishy,” one student muttered.
“Possibly squishy,” Uryū agreed, “because they’re aquatic creatures.”
There were giggles and “ewws” and more of his classmates seemed interested. There was a creaking of chairs as they leaned forward.
“Soooo,” Uryū addressed the class, “if three kappa eggs are laid every minute, because this mystical world is weird, how many are laid in a day? How many are laid in a year?”
He wrote out 3=1 minute.
“So? How many minutes are in an hour?” He asked the class.
“Sixty.”
“Right!” He wrote out 3x60=180. “How many hours in a day?”
“Twenty-four, duh!”
“Twenty-four, duh,” he repeated back dutifully as he wrote on the board to more giggles.
180x24=4,320
“Seven days in a week!” Another classmate volunteered unprompted.
4,320x7=30,240
“Times 52 weeks for a year!” Another put forward.
“Generally, yes! The word problem is vague and we don’t know if this is a leap year or not,” Uryū replied.
There was more laughter.
30,240x52=1,572,480
“That’s a lot of kappa eggs,” one boy in the front row muttered.
Uryū pushed up his glasses. “Why, yes, it is. Now the tricky part is remembering what the question actually asks. It only wants this and this.” He boxed the answers for the day and the year. “So there was lots of pre-work and in-between that doesn’t get recognition but was very important to get the final answers. Oh! And remember to write the units or you could lose points!”
He thought he’d done a good job and several students told him after class ended that the way he’d explained it had helped them.
That made him feel extra good as the lunch break started. He gathered his books and showed them off to Sasaki who approved.
“Yeah, I think these are a good fit for you and your art style.”
He thought he could work up to drawing like that?! His face heated up and hurt from smiling.
He also learned that Aso did nice things for all of them. Sasaki got art supplies. Hawano got makeup kits. Harada got music CDs. Fuji got desserts.
Harada talked to him in a 'so don't go feeling so special’ kind of way but it was a relief.
It meant his teacher was kind. He saw people who were different and wanted them to feel cared about.
And they all seemed to think it was normal so he didn’t need to feel weird about it.
See? There was no need to tell Dad.
When Uryū was leaving for home, he took a different stairwell than usual and came across several teachers clustered together.
“I understand completely. I’ve got one of those. Ishida,” Mr. Chinen complained. “He’s such an irritating little know-it-all. It’s no wonder he’s having trouble making friends. I don’t think a single student in the class likes him.”
Uryū froze.
“He is a pain,” his history teacher agreed. “Argues constantly. Or tries to be more correct. Brings up articles and documentaries—this is not a college course or a debate class. It’s going to be watered down. Not as smart as he thinks he is, if he can’t realize that.”
“I just want to hear someone else answer. It’s always him and he intimidates the others into silence,” his teacher for Japanese class muttered.
He stared, at a loss. He wasn’t used to teachers not liking him.
In all his previous grades, he was usually commended for his enthusiasm and dedication. That he always went up and beyond what was expected.
It was the kids that usually… badmouthed him.
He blinked hard. He didn’t dare pass by them now.
He turned around and hurtled back the way he came and almost ran straight into Aso.
His shoes squeaked loud against the floor as he stopped.
“S-sorry!”
“Ishida?” Aso asked, setting a hand on his shoulder. “You know you’re not supposed to run in the halls.”
His stomach lurched at being within his grasp.
“S-sorry.” He sniffled.
“Ishida? What happened?”
“Oh no, Ishida, why are you so upset?” Sumiko Fuji was there, too.
That was weird.
He thought her last class was in a different building.
“Uryū? Why are you crying?” His teacher asked seriously. “Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?”
It came out in a blubbery mess.
Maybe he was showing off this morning in math class but he never thought the teachers would dislike him for it?!
For trying his best!
Aso frowned. “Don’t pay them any mind. This is on them. Not you. Grown ups that don’t plan well for the future wind up in jobs they hate and everything good in them gets worn down. Burnt out.”
“Like cigarettes?” Uryū murmured.
“Exactly,” Aso answered a bit ruefully.
Like his dad…
It hurt to think that most of his dad’s goodness was used up but…
That… made sense, didn’t it?
Even if it meant… accepting that the goodness wasn’t going to regenerate like a plant…
Though, the idea that Dad was only going to get worse…made him nauseous.
He pitstopped in the restroom just in case but he didn’t end up vomiting.
When Uryū finally made it outside, Juri was climbing the stairs.
“Oh, there you are. Thank goodness. I was worried—” his tone changed. “What happened?”
“…”
“Your eyes are red and puffy.”
“I got made fun of for showing off.”
“What?”
He explained.
Juri set an arm around him and brought him over to a bench to sit down.”
Uryū rubbed his nose on his sleeve. “I thought I was helping. I had some kids during the break come up and thank me because they-they hadn’t thought of it like-like that. The way I did. But just now—as I was leaving—I overheard the—and they said—”
Juri was very patient as he listened.
“Maybe let some of your classmates volunteer answers?” He suggested. “Then they won’t feel so jealous?”
“Jealous?” He questioned.
“And when they do well, be sure to compliment them.”
“Umm.” He looked out at the traffic at the cars moving slowly.
“If you show them that you’re a gracious person, they’ll understand they were wrong about you.”
Juri thought the people teasing him were other kids.
He stared down at his shoes. He was even more embarrassed by the situation now and couldn’t bring himself to admit that the criticisms came from adults.
When they got home and Juri led him to the kitchen, they found Dad there making a pot of coffee.
He frowned at Uryū. “Why is your face red?”
“…”
“Uryū?”
“Some of the kids teased him, sir.”
“Explain, Uryū.”
Ryūken was silent as he listened to Uryū explain and then Juri’s suggestion.
“No. Each of these classes has a participation requirement for your grade, yes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Earn your points.”
Uryū blinked and glanced up at him unsurely. “But…”
“Why should your grades be sacrificed to appease others who can’t rise to your level?”
“I should do my best even if others don’t like me for it?” Uryū asked.
His father sighed. “Others will find reasons to dislike you. You’ll never please everyone. That’s alright. You need to conduct yourself in a way that you can feel proud of your behavior.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now wash up and change clothes. You look sloppy.”
Notes:
*NOTE: Please notify a safe and trustworthy adult/authorities, if you witness or experience "grooming" behavior in real life, especially if you're a minor.
Chapter 12
Notes:
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Warning: Could be triggering/uncomfortable for some readers: "Grooming" content in the form of unwanted touching/overly familiar behavior between an adult and a minor. Unsafe adult talking about heavy topics and implying that a child's parent is bad/neglectful/uncaring.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Uryū scrutinized himself in the hallway mirror. “Does it look okay?”
“I tied your tie. Same as mine. I guarantee it’s fine. More importantly, make sure you smile.”
Uryū turned, grinned, and crossed his eyes.
His father was not amused. “Do not make me have to schedule a reshoot.”
“Yes, sir.”
It was like his dad never laughed anymore.
“Don’t expect me for dinner. Or breakfast. I might be spending the night at the hospital.”
“Right.”
Guess that meant they weren’t doing anything for Showa Day tomorrow, let alone Golden Week.
It was like each year he’d get his hopes up that they’d return to some kind of normalcy, where he and Dad would go and do and see neat things. But the only trips they went on now, which were incredibly rare anyways, were business ones where Dad needed to give the estate’s staff a break and he had to tag along and mostly stay in the hotel room.
Ryūken just didn’t do fun anymore. On his way out, Ryūken reminded him again to look pleasant for his photo.
It kinda felt like he was asking him to lie.
For a moment, he half-imagined his photo being in his dad’s wallet not as a sign of sentimentality but a footnote of life—a means for camaraderie among other medical professionals.
The back of the photo would have information jotted down: his name, age, allergies, and one fun fact; it would probably be his class ranking.
He didn’t feel like Dad knew him very well anymore.
The other doctors and medical staff would have similar photos. They’d do a grownup version of show-and-tell rattling off the information like the kids were baseball cards.
Parents in name only… because none of them knew their kids.
It was something he’d picked up on immediately when he met the children of other medical professionals—the massive disconnect.
Some parents pretended they didn’t notice it and they’d be perky and charming even as their kids glowered as their names and talents were misremembered or reassigned (if there were multiple kids in a household).
Others were strict and angry and their kids were silent and unsmiling. They didn’t react to loud sounds and stared at walls.
Uryū used to be one of the rare ones who was happy. He understood now that it was because Mom knew how to prop up Dad to make him seem more involved and knowledgeable about him. Uryū could envision her making Dad recite facts about Uryū back to her. She’d been good at helping Uryū study for tests that way. With her gone, it was kinda obvious that Dad wasn’t great at being a dad without her.
He just… wasn’t very good at it, which made it seem like Mom had actually been a parent and a half in that equation.
It wasn’t that he was trying to be morbid, but there was part of him that wondered if Dad had died instead whether his life would’ve changed as much.
The day-to-day routine would’ve continued. Mealtimes would’ve felt the same because it was them that ate together most frequently—Grandpa and Grandma weren’t always present and Dad’s schedule could be hectic.
Mom would’ve ridden with him for pick ups and drop offs. She would’ve attended conferences and festivals and…
Mom wouldn’t have personally performed an autopsy on her husband so… Uryū might still want to be a doctor in that world.
Though, if she’d honored Dad’s wishes… she definitely would’ve intervened more forcefully with blocking contact between him and Sensei.
So, he might’ve wound up a doctor but not a Quincy… which wasn’t good either.
Though…
He thought of how excited Mom got for school picture days. She liked hearing about school and all the drama that unfolded—who spilled juice on their uniform, who had a bad haircut, how flamboyant the photographers and their assistants were.
And she’d laugh softly when he acted those things out.
There would be none of that… anymore… ever again…
Later, when he was at school, all the classes were brought outside to mingle. They were experimenting with some kind of ‘get-along to go-along’ event to get all the students to be friendlier to each other.
Uryū could see the other kids in his grades standing in circles talking.
The way they huddled closer when he passed by let him know he wasn’t welcome.
They’d all been issued different colored wrist bands and the PA system would announce a color to signal them to line up.
So far only red and yellow had been called.
His group was blue.
Basketballs, jump ropes, and frisbees had been set out and there were some kids playing.
A jump rope or a frisbee could be a nice solitary past time for him but Dad wouldn’t be happy if he looked sweaty and winded in his picture.
He wandered further away from the event, gravitating towards the bleachers where Fuji and the others usually gathered.
He’d half-hoped to find them there but they weren’t.
He sat down anyway and tried to center himself.
Grandpa would say that a restless mind could miscalculate and a restless spirit could be reckless. And that most mistakes were the result of one or both of those things.
He was feeling a little nervous—a prickling sense of unease at the back of his mind kept growing bigger.
He needed to calm down.
He did some breathing exercises Sensei had taught him and focused on the cherry blossom trees overhead.
Beautiful. Mom would’ve liked seeing them in bloom. She’d always get excited for festivals throughout the year, especially Hanami. She’d spend the weeks leading up to it planning elaborate picnics. They’d missed Hanami every year since her death.
He wondered if his heart would always be broken.
It was like the initial break started when everyone at the estate died.
Mom held on longer and that got his hopes up. And when she passed, the crack deepened.
Grandpa had tried to help him hold together, but his death was another blow and it was like his heart was trying to pull itself apart and all he had was safety pins to slow the inevitable fate waiting for him.
He frowned and felt a shudder go down his spine.
“Ishida? Why are you all the way over here? You’re missing out on the event,” Aso called as he walked over.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I kind of needed a minute.”
“Ah. Hm. Crowds can be kind of unsettling, can’t they?” Aso remarked gently.
“Yeah.” Lots of different kinds of energy all swirling together. Spirit ribbons could be strangely… loud? Maybe that wasn’t the perfect way to describe it but—
“A Windsor knot.”
“Hm?” He looked up and saw Aso was suddenly there, looming over him. The feeling of unease became dread. “Yeah, my dad tied it.”
“I think the Grantchester knot will suit you better for today’s picture.”
“Huh, oh.” He blinked, startled when the man abruptly reached over to undo and then redo his tie.
“It’ll work better with this kind of tie. The school uses thin ties so one has to use knots that work with that.”
“T-thanks.”
“Of course. I know you don’t have someone to do this for you.”
What… did he just say?
“…My dad… helped…”
“Your father probably does that knot for every occasion. No appreciation for the importance of this day. It’s your first year of middle school. It deserves commemoration.”
“Oh…” He touched the tie. “Thanks.”
“Of course. We need you to look your best and—” He winced.
“What’s wrong?” Uryū asked.
“It looks like the trees got you.”
“Got me?”
Aso brushed a few cherry blossoms from Uryū’s shoulders
“Oh no!” He reached up and ran his hands through his hair feeling more petals and scattering them.
Aso chuckled. “Here, let’s move away from the trees and get you sorted.”
“I just need to visit a restroom and use the mirror there.”
“They just called green. Grey is next and then us. It’ll be quicker if I help you.”
“Um.”
“Don’t worry. I’m aware of the dangers of lice and other scalp afflictions. It’s okay.” He pulled a small packaged comb from his pocket.
Uryū held his hands out to receive it.
“Uryū, you can’t even see where the petals are.”
“If I use a mirror—”
“It won’t help with the back.”
That was true.
“It’s okay. You aren’t the first student I’ve had to help. This comes with the territory of being a middle school teacher. You kids are growing up but… you’re not grown ups yet. So, you need a little help now and then. It’s fine.”
He reluctantly stood still as his hair was combed. “I know it's not my business but…”
The comb slowed.
“… But do you have kids? I know some teachers don’t like to talk about them so you don’t have to but… just… I wondered.”
The comb resumed. “I consider myself a father.”
What did that mean?
“My son didn’t survive to birth.”
Uryū froze, feeling horrified by his insensitivity. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a painful memory—”
“It’s a complicated feeling, isn’t it? When people we love die? Talking about it hurts. Staying silent hurts. I’m sure you’ve felt that way.”
He shivered. “…Yeah.”
Fingers traced through his hair and checked along his collar to make sure he was flower free.
“Just because the situation didn’t end happily doesn’t mean I regret him. He made me a father even if we didn’t get to properly know one another. And now I get to have that fatherly feeling for all of you, my students. I get to see glimpses of my child when I interact with all of you. Maybe he would’ve been good at sports? Good at math? Maybe he’d wear glasses? You think of all kinds of things.”
He felt strangely trapped. The desire to hear more warred with the desire to flee.
Dad never talked about this stuff. Only Grandpa did. But the way Grandpa talked made death sound poetic and far away.
Aso made it feel close. As close as it was for them.
“Here. Let’s style you a bit more.” He had a very small bottle of hair spray with him in a small satchel he was carrying. “Your hair is very sleek so we don’t want it to look too flat.”
His hair was back combed and lifted and sprayed to “Give a little more volume.”
“Here. I have some cream and balm, too. I gave some to Kawano already. You should use it. There’s a little bit of SPF in it which will protect you from the sun.”
That was a good point.
He used some.
“Blend it in,” Aso instructed. “Good. The balm protects against sunburns, too. Fresh. Never been used. There you go. Very nice.”
“Yeah?”
“You look healthier now. Before you take the picture, consider pinching your cheeks to give yourself more color. You’re very pale, Uryū. It’ll help.”
“…Thanks.”
The PA system blared: “Will all students and teachers assigned to the Grey Group please line up and head to the auditorium for pictures. Thank you. Blue Group please assemble yourselves. You are next on deck. Your patience and collaborative efforts will help make this a smooth process.”
“Let’s head back now,” Aso suggested.
“Okay.”
“A good idea,” another voice declared.
Uryū smiled and bowed. “Hello, Principal Satō.”
“Hello Uryū, excited for pictures?”
“I dunno.”
“No?”
“My mom… would get excited, but…”
“Well then, you’ll need to be excited for her,” the elder man replied. “She’d want that.”
“Yeah…”
“If I’m honest, I don’t get as excited for pictures anymore,” the principal confided.
He blinked. “No?”
“They take my picture and when I receive it, I see this old man there!
Uryū snickered a little in spite of himself.
“See? If I was you, I would be more excited. It’ll be a good picture, Ishida. Everyone will say nicer things about it than mine.”
“Ah. But they won’t say I look venerable.”
The man laughed. “There’s my consolation.”
He met up with Fuji and the others during lunch and because he didn’t have anything fun planned for Golden Week and was noticeably down about it, Sasaki decided to lend him some comics.
“This is a serial horror manga anthology that I’m really into.” Sasaki handed him five. “From the way you talk, I’m betting you look at medical stuff a lot, right? ‘Cause of your dad, so, you shouldn’t be too creeped out. It’s the plotlines that are trippy. I think you’ll like that. You know? That you can’t always guess the ending?”
Uryū appreciated the sentiment. The premise of that argument. And he’d liked feeling cared about—that he’d gotten to borrow something of value.
He’d sped through all five manga volumes.
Only…
He was deeply creeped out by the art and the plotlines where spouses murdered each other for insurance payouts and evil desiccated patriarchs planned brutal competitions to sort out inheritance amounts.
Siblings who hated each other and whoever was cruelest won. Stepmothers who killed their husband’s first children and the family sometimes cannibalized them.
The worst ones dealt with curses or wishes or dares gone nightmarishly wrong.
He’d stared hard enough at his food and with enough witnesses (via passing staff) that Juri was alerted.
It was embarrassing explaining why food was creeping him out, but oddly enough Juri didn’t make fun of him. Instead, he took him to the kitchen and cooked him a fresh meal letting him see every ingredient.
And he got to eat there with him instead of upstairs all alone.
Juri even stayed two whole hours after his schedule (when he wouldn’t even be paid) because he remembered reading scary stories as a kid and he’d had his great uncle help him through that. Karma demanded he repay that debt.
Juri must’ve said something to Hikari because the man made multiple perimeter checks inside and outside of the house and made a point to tell him personally that the estate was secure before Uryū had to go to bed.
His home wasn’t helping. Every floorboard creak and shift of the walls made his heart rate increase.
The air conditioning turned on and he shivered harder.
He lasted another few minutes before wrenching open his bedroom door and bolting down the hall.
Dad wasn’t home but…
It still felt better to be inside of Mom and Dad’s bedroom. He grabbed Dad’s house robe and put it on before pushing the pillows out of the way and sliding between the covers—working his way into the middle—his usual spot when Mom had been alive—
He curled up and told himself everything was going to be alright.
It was dark. He peeked over at the door. It opened up into the hallway that looked even darker. And there was a faint sound of footsteps in the shadows.
He got an uneasy feeling. He should close the door, block that cold darkness out.
He started to sit up but the distance from the bed to the door suddenly seemed very far. And he got that prickling feeling that there was a monster under the bed and if his feet touched the floor, it would get him.
And he couldn’t use reishi to hover yet.
He pulled the covers over his head.
“You’re twelve years old,” he told himself. And yet…
He turned on his side away from the door.
It was a few minutes more before it felt too humid and he had to shift the covers around his face so he could breathe more easily.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed but in the haziness he vaguely became aware of footsteps.
He swallowed nervously.
There was a heavy sigh. “Uryū.”
Was he dreaming this? Because he was caught in… hypnagogia? Was that the right word? Hypnagogic state?
“Dad?” He whispered uncertainly.
“Yes? Did you have a bad dream?”
“…Yes. I got scared. The house…sounds like footsteps. Dark. Cold.”
“Uryū, old houses make all sorts of sounds. Now, go back to your room. You’re old enough to be reasonable about this.”
“…”
“Uryū.” There was a warning there.
He reluctantly told him a variation of the truth—that a kid at school shared some scary stories with him and he couldn’t stop thinking about them—
“A-and their flesh b-bubbled and they kept f-following and muscles and organs went blop, plop, splatter and still they kept coming and there was a horrible moaning and—”
Mom…
He abruptly envisioned her sitting up and walking off the table towards him and her organs all falling out and then he was sobbing.
“What’s the name of this student?!” Dad demanded. “Grotesque stories are completely inappropriate for a school setting. Was this a classmate of yours?”
“No. O-older.”
“He should feel ashamed terrorizing younger students. What’s his name?”
“N-no, don’t… don’t, I…it’s my fault. I wanted to hear. I wanted to be cool—I shouldn’t have listened. I don’t want you to get anyone in trouble. Please!”
His dad made a sound of frustration and then abruptly left to bathe and freshen up before bed.
Uryū sniffled and rubbed his eyes against his sleeve. Maybe he should go back to his own bed? He had flashlights. He could just… stay awake? And then nap once the sun was up.
But the hall was so dark.
He whimpered and clutched at Mom’s pillow.
Even if… something as awful as that happened, shouldn’t he have felt relieved at the idea that Mom could conquer death like a modern Ligeia?
Dad came back into the room dressed in pajamas but then left to go get a book. See? Dad wasn’t scared of the dark. When he returned, he turned the lights on.
Uryū squinted at the intense brightness.
Dad moved some of the pillows and settled in next to him. He opened the book to a diagram of the muscular system.
Uryū felt his stomach flop. “Nooo. Dad?”
Dad tersely began explaining how tendons connected muscles to bone.
“Dad…”
Ryūken tapped the page authoritatively. “Look. Now this outer layer of the bone, right here, it’s called the—”
“Periosteum.”
“Very good, Uryū. Yes.”
Next, he talked about the brain-bone axis and then how organs stayed in place with fascia and mesentery.
“So… that story… is silly?” Uryū concluded.
“It’s completely absurd.”
He nodded and exhaled. “Just a silly story and this is an old house.”
“That’s right.” Dad got up and turned off the lights. He set the book and his glasses down on his side table.
“…And if a skeleton wanted to fight me it would be super light and I could shove them away?” Uryū double-checked.
His father snickered. “Yes. I imagine so.”
“Okay.” He yawned. “Silly, illogical story…old house.”
He leaned against his father who was alive and breathing, with all of his organs inside.
But he was also the one who…who…cut into…
Bright lights…
The smell of formaldehyde…
The cold feeling of refrigeration…
The metallic glint of surgical tools…
He started shivering.
A warm arm wrapped around him. “You’re very safe here, Uryū.”
Was he?
Could he be when he was in the arms of someone who…who…?
“Sleep or go back to your room,” Ryūken warned. “I have work in the morning.”
Right. Ryūken was a surgeon before he was a husband or a father.
Uryū felt cold. The room was dark. Mom was dead.
He felt scared and alone. He blinked hard.
He wished he had his glasses.
“…O-okay…G’night, D-Dad.”
The embrace tightened. And he didn’t know if that was good or bad.
“Goodnight, my dragon.”
His hair was petted and his ears were gently covered.
He still heard his dad tut, “You are cold.”
He was briefly left as Dad went to adjust the thermostat.
He came back. “There. That should help.”
He tucked Uryū in and draped his arm over him.
“Everything will be alright.”
Maybe…
“Can I do a library circuit?” Uryū asked.
“A what?” Vague disinterest mixed with vague disapproval in Ryūken’s tone as he raised an eyebrow.
He sipped his cup of coffee and read the newspaper.
“It’s Golden Week,” Uryū reminded him, “and I want to visit all the libraries.” Since he already knew from Dad’s calendar, he checked one more time this morning, that he hadn’t scheduled anything fun for them to do. “If I get lots of books here at the start, I won’t get so bored.”
“Hm…I suppose Hikari can drive you. I’ll speak with him.”
“Cool. I’ll grab my list of book titles—”
“No, you’ll finish your breakfast.”
Uryū sighed and poked at his food with his fork.
“And Uryū?” Dad set down his coffee and his newspaper to look directly at him.
“Yeah?”
“NO scary stories.”
He flushed and repeated back, “Yeah. No scary stories.”
Notes:
Thank you for reading! :D
Kudos and comments are 🩵🤍💙
Chapter 13
Notes:
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Warning: Heavy philosophical angst/dark/unsettling thoughts about grief from a child.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Uryū eagerly filled out his details for the library’s reading log celebrating Golden Week.
The ladies working there, several of whom had pretty much known him his whole life, told him if he read every day and turned it in on the final day, he could be entered into a raffle and choose a prize! Like movie tickets!
There were even going to be multiple winners, and they hadn’t had that many entries, so his chances were pretty good.
“Heh heh heh.” He wrote his name with relish.
He was half-desperate to see a movie in a theater.
Mom used to take him all the time. She’d always have something fun scheduled when Dad had super long shifts, so they wouldn’t feel his absence so much.
Dad didn’t try at all to soften her absence.
Dad wasn’t interested in movies or T.V. or anything besides work.
When he got home, he’d often go to his office and shut the door. Or if they were together in the family wing, he’d have his nose buried in a medical tome or a work binder.
And the VHSes Uryū was allowed to watch at home were all kiddie flicks from when he was eight or younger. The extra kick in that was that he had memories of Mom with each one.
He sighed.
He had memories of her here, too, but…
Time had noticeably passed.
At home, it felt like Mom could show up still. And it hurt when she didn’t.
He squeezed a stack of books to his chest.
He had a good assortment: sewing, science, and some classics.
He blinked hard.
He needed to find a corner—
“Hey Ishida!”
That turned some heads and the workers frowned and pointed to signs requesting quiet.
“Oh, hi Fuji,” he whispered and gave a slight wave.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
He explained the rules of the reading log and the possible prizes.
“How neat.” She smiled indulgently but didn’t take up a reading log for herself. “I’m so glad I ran into you. I was just thinking it was going to be a boring day. Hana and Seiji are grounded. Sai has to do some kind of test prep camp in a city over. Can you believe it? Even during Golden Week?! His parents are so mean. Where do you want to go after you’re done reading?”
“…After? I’m not supposed to go anywhere spontaneously. I’m supposed to stay here.”
“Oh. When’s your pick up time?”
“4pm.”
Her jaw dropped. “That’s six hours away.”
“Yeah, but it’s okay. Juri packed me a heavy-duty bento with extra special snacks.”
Her lips thinned. “How long have you been here already?”
“Since 8 am.”
A powerful frown crossed her face. “No. No, you’re coming with me, Ishida.”
“My dad was super angry last time,” he reminded her, while reluctantly following her out onto the sidewalk.
“My dad’s always angry,” she replied breezily, “you just have to get used to it.”
Uryū’s eyebrows furrowed. “But I don’t want him to be mad at me.”
She gave him a sympathetic look. “I know it’s hard at first. But it gets easier.”
She didn’t understand. Dad was all Uryū had left. If Dad came to hate him… his heart twisted.
She sighed and then rallied. “You can’t waste your life trying to appease someone who wants to be angry at you. Trust me. I’m older than you and I know.”
“My Grandpa says we have to choose our battles wisely.”
“Oh really? And where’s he?” She asked critically.
He pointed across the street to the cemetery.
“…Oh.”
“Yeah, um, my Mom’s there, too. And Grandma…and our household.”
She was quiet as he explained about how carbon monoxide poisoning killed everyone. Except him. He got better. He was the only one who got better.
“I am so sorry, Ishida.”
He squirmed a little at her full fledged sincerity.
“Do you want to visit them?” She asked kindly.
He did but… “I don’t have any flowers.”
“We’ll pick some.”
She took him to a field near the edge of Karakura where there was a marshy creek.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to be this far,” he murmured, half-impressed and half-horrified that he’d allowed someone to lure him so far away. None of the streets and crosswalks leading here had been familiar.
He’d taken a huge risk trusting her like this.
She giggled. “I believe you but wildflowers are nice. Just as nice as store bought ones if the feeling behind them is the same.”
They gathered a large amount and set them in a reusable plastic bag Fuji had.
“Is it okay to use this? Won’t you have to wash and disinfect it?”
She giggled. “You worry so much. It’s fine. Just be careful of the creek, okay?”
He sniffled. His nose was getting so stuffy and he resisted itching at his eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just allergies.”
“Oh…” She looked around at all the tall grasses and plant life.
“It’s pretty though,” Uryū assured her so she wouldn’t feel bad for dragging him out here where he was probably allergic to everything.
“…I like coming here to think some times,” she offered. “There’s a train station further on that way.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve ridden it before, when I needed to think.”
“Was it nice?”
“Yeah, it felt like freedom.” She smiled wistfully.
He could hear a train horn in the distance and tried to imagine what real freedom felt like.
He used to think it was being with Grandpa at the training field.
But it wasn’t.
He’d been sheltered, protected back then. Safe.
Freedom. Real freedom probably wouldn’t feel safe.
What he was feeling right now was just a taste.
Honestly, it was a little bit scary.
They were walking back to town, back towards the cemetery, when he said, “I’m surprised you can walk that far.”
She abruptly stopped ahead of him and he almost bumped into her.
“Fuji?”
Her whole body tensed. “Why?” She demanded. “Because I’m overweight?!”
He stared. “Huh?”
She turned around to glare down at him. “Speak up!”
“T-that… that…” He blinked hard. “That you’re brave enough to go so far all alone. I was…kinda nervous and y-you were with me.”
She physically flinched. “I’m so sorry, Ishida. I’m just used to people being… mean.”
“…I’m sorry-”
“Nonono. You’ve never…I jumped to conclusions. This is my fault.”
She explained about her thyroid and the medication she was on. “I just get so hungry. It’s not that I’m not active.”
“I have hypotension.” He explained how that worked… or didn’t. It was annoying sometimes.
She got a little nervous. “Is… is it safe for you to exert yourself like this? I didn’t even think—”
“Mostly. It’ll just get harder for me when it gets hotter or if we walk around for hours without water.”
She looked uneasy.
“But I like to be out. Like this… freedom… or is this ‘semi-freedom?’ It’s nice.” Now that they were back in town and he was able to see the hospital in the distance and other landmarks he knew.
Before they went to the cemetery, she made them stop and drink from a water fountain.
They visited Fuji’s mom first.
Fuji introduced him and he greeted Mrs. Fuji with a nice flower.
When Fuji told him about her, her face lit up. “She was nice and funny. You would’ve liked her. She loved gardening. She collected teacups. She could even do some magic tricks. She was so cool.”
Unfortunately, all the good stuff about her mom was followed by bad stuff about her dad and then worse stuff about her stepmother.
Her voice was hard. “They can be every bit as evil as the fairytales warn.”
Uryū really didn’t want to believe it.
She said, “Pray that your dad doesn’t marry a troll like mine did or you’ll be shipped off to boarding school. Apparently, that’s my fate after this year ends. Should I accept it.”
“Are you going to take the train?” Uryū asked. Half in awe that she could talk so roughly about her own father out loud to a stranger… well, an acquaintance. Or that she felt empowered enough to fight her fate?!
It had always seemed like that was something people could only do after they were grownups.
There was a stillness and then she nodded. “Yes.”
She meant it.
“…Whoa.” It made his heart race. He wasn’t sure if he felt admiration or terror.
She smiled. “And then the rest of my life will begin. I’ll be fifteen by then.”
“Yeah, but that’s not twenty,” he pointed out. “What if the authorities force you to come back?”
“No, but fifteen is a magical age.”
He blinked. “…Really?”
“Uh-huh.” She explained how in older times, it was understood that teens were smart enough to know what they wanted for themselves. “You see it hinted at in fairytales and folklore. It’s always young people that have the adventure. They’re the only ones who can change things.”
He wasn’t sure if that was entirely true, but Fuji believed it.
He kinda wanted to. Waiting until he was fifteen was a lot less daunting than waiting to be twenty.
They set down lots of flowers in his household’s section of the cemetery.
He was a little nervous as he introduced her. “This is my Mom and this is my Grandpa.”
Fuji was very polite.
He told her how he and Mom did everything together—places they went, recipes they made, after school routines.
“I know that soap opera! Mom would watch it while ironing!” Fuji grinned.
“My mom would sew!” Uryū found himself telling her about costume designs he’d draw and Mom would make real. “She could do anything!”
And then he told her about Grandpa who was wise and taught him lots of stuff because “He wanted me to be a good, strong person who makes things better for everyone. It’s hard because… look at me.” He pushed his glasses up. “I’m not exactly what you picture when you think of heroes.”
“Trust me, I know how that feels. But… I think we’re the heroes of our stories. At the end of the day, prophecies aside, I think… it’s a choice. And not even an overarching one. I think it’s a choice you have to make everyday.”
He liked those ideas and said so.
He set another flower on Mom’s grave.
And because Fuji was so nice, it felt okay to really talk to her.
She understood.
The loneliness. The sadness. How it could creep up. How it could strike. Anywhere. Anytime.
The way Dad would stare at him for making a scene and he couldn’t help it because his feelings would crash over him and he drowned.
He was kneeling in front of Mom’s grave and tracing the characters with his hands. “Sometimes…I think…” He was a little nervous to say this aloud. Anytime he’d started to broach it with Sensei he’d be interrupted or assured so he couldn’t make it to the end of his thought. “I think that life might’ve been easier if—”
“If your dad had died and your mom had lived instead?” She remarked bitterly. “Yeah, mine would’ve been better.”
He gasped. That made him feel nauseated. Sure he’d wondered but not viciously. And if he had lost Dad at eight… when he’d hero-worshiped him? He’d have been devastated.
Back then he’d loved Dad so much. He still loved him now it was just… there was less light in it.
She shrugged her shoulders.
He took a deep, shaky breath. “That’s not… no… I care about Dad. I do. I still do. He’s just so miserable. And… I can feel it… when he looks at me. It hurts him to…look at me. I know I… I make him sad and angry.” He shook his head. “And when you overhear grownups talking about him. Us. They say that I’m a tragic reminder. I’m baggage. They say I’m why he can’t start over. So that’s why… I think sometimes that… it might’ve been easier if…” His fingers pressed hard against the stone. “If I had gone with her… Then I wouldn’t be in his way. Mom and I would be together. He could do whatever he wanted. We could all be happy again.”
“…”
“Fuji?”
It caught him off guard when she abruptly fell to her knees beside him.
“I’m happy you're here,” she told him fiercely.
Her expression was scary. Her spirit ribbon howled with feeling—empathy and outrage.
She repeated it two more times and then grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “I’m happy you’re here!”
“..F-Fuji?”
“Sumi! And I’ll keep saying it until you hear it! I’m happy you’re here! I’m happy you’re here! Do you hear me yet?! I’M HAPPY YOU'RE HERE!”
Her voice carried and echoed.
“…Thank you… Sumi.”
It had been a while since someone held his hand.
Let alone like this.
Sumi held his hand with an authority that reminded him of older girls at the estate—children of the servants who worked there.
Bossy but well-meaning and they’d take him aside to explain the rules of games he wanted to join in on. And they’d help him up if he fell down and they’d brush off grass from his suit or pick up his glasses and hand them to him if they fell off. And they’d scold boys who knocked him down during tag because they were older and bigger and more exuberant.
And if he wasn’t good enough at a game they’d keep him company on the sidelines until Mommy or Daddy—
Sumi gave his hand a squeeze. “We’re getting a snack.”
He didn’t recognize a lot of the treats there at the convenience store. It made him a little nervous.
Dad was super strict about what Uryū was supposed to eat.
“I have food sensitivities.”
She nodded. “Okay. List them. We’ll check the ingredients on the wrappers.”
There wasn’t even a hint of annoyance.
She was so nice to him.
It made him wonder about her family; how could they not like her?
But apparently, her father thought she was a disappointment. Her stepmother thought she was a “walking waste of money.” And her little brother treated her like a maid.
A maid…
His mother had been a maid.
But Dad loved her.
It said so. On her grave where everyone could read it: BELOVED wife and mother.
They walked around and Sumi pointed out neat shops and they talked and talked and talked.
Not just about sad things and school things but… stupid things… like if you could ride a dinosaur which one would you pick?
Or if clouds and hills were food, what should they taste like?
He even asked, “If you could pick a super power what would it be?”
She wanted to be invisible.
“Wouldn’t that be cool?” She sighed and fiddled with the end of one braid. “I could just be and do whatever I wanted.”
“…”
“What about you, Ishida?”
“You can call me, Uryū.”
“What super power would you like, Uryū?”
“I’d want to bring people back.” Being a Quincy and seeing the dead wasn’t that helpful.
“Like a necromancer?!”
“But they wouldn’t be dead!” He explained hastily.
“Hmm. So you could just… undo it?”
“Yeah.”
“You could make wars obsolete! You could empty cemeteries!”
He fidgeted. “Hmm. I dunno. Maybe this is a bad—”
“Why?”
“Could they all be fed and live somewhere? And… what about your dad? He’d suddenly have two wives.”
“You overthink things, Uryū. We’re just pretending. Geez, if you’re not allowed to be happy even in your imagination what am I gonna do with you?”
“I’m sorry, Sumi. I’m not a fun friend.”
Not since Mom… and then Sensei…
For a moment, she looked stricken and then she smiled too kindly at him. “I think you’re a good friend. You’re just… sad. And you have good reasons to be sad. We just…. need to find you some good reasons to be happy. Then, you’ll feel better.”
She dropped him back off at the library with thirty minutes to spare and waved happily until he was all the way inside.
Later that night, after his shower, he came out and was surprised to sense his dad was home.
The check-in phone call earlier had told him to eat dinner, leave his homework on his father’s desk, and not expect him until very late.
It was barely half past ten.
Though, that meant it was still past his bedtime.
Uh oh.
He turned the bathroom’s lights off and carefully opened the door, planning to sneak to his room and feign sleep.
The hallway’s lights were dimmed because of the hour so all he needed to do was—
“There you are,” Dad turned the lights on. “You should have showered earlier. Just because you’re off this week, doesn’t mean I condone you staying up late.”
He nodded, head bowed. “Yes, sir. I’ll head right to bed.”
“You’re all wet. Do you intend to sleep with a wet head?”
He pointed to the towel around his shoulders.
Honestly, he was hoping a wet head would help cool him down and let him sleep.
“Did you find books you wanted?” Dad asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Such as?”
He listed a few titles.
His father frowned and told him that The Art of War and Ivanhoe were too sophisticated for him at this age.
“But isn’t it good for me to challenge myself?” Uryū asked. “I could read them now. Take notes. Read them again in two years and see how much my comprehension has improved?”
There was silence.
“Dad?”
His father was staring at him intensely. “What happened to you?”
“H-huh? Whaddya mean?”
He was half-dragged to his parents’ bathroom suite.
He had to sit on a stool as Dad rifled through cabinets for first aid kits and lotions.
Dad checked and re-checked his skin.
It stung.
“Answer me, were you outside? Or did you eat something and you’re having a reaction?”
“Yes.”
“Which?”
“Outside,” he replied. Or Dad would never let him see Sumi again.
“When? Where? How long?”
“T-too long? I ate and read outside.”
It wasn’t a complete lie and it had been fun to share his bento and the snacks Fuji bought.
“You can’t do that, Uryū,” he snapped. “Your skin is delicate.”
He was slathered in lotion for sunburn after care.
“You have to be in pain.”
“My skin feels tight,” he admitted.
“So foolish.”
He was given children’s grade painkillers and Dad got him water.
“You’re dehydrated. I can tell. And the last thing you needed was a hot shower.”
“I’ll make sure I stay inside at the next library tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? You’re not going anywhere tomorrow.”
“B-But…you promised…Golden Week, library circuit—”
“That was before when I thought you had enough sense to stay inside the building.”
“You never said I had to—”
“Do not interrupt me when I’m talking to you, young man. You’re staying home tomorrow. Inside. On this floor. I don’t want you wandering around getting in the staff’s way.”
“…Yes, sir.”
“Now, dry your hair and then you can go to bed.”
Notes:
Thank you for reading! :D
Kudos and comments are 💙💙💙
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Last Edited Sat 24 May 2025 02:29AM UTC
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ermamu on Chapter 1 Sat 24 May 2025 03:30AM UTC
Last Edited Sat 24 May 2025 03:31AM UTC
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Last Edited Sun 25 May 2025 04:33AM UTC
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LotusGlory on Chapter 4 Sun 01 Jun 2025 03:24AM UTC
Last Edited Sun 01 Jun 2025 06:51AM UTC
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3LTommy on Chapter 5 Sun 08 Jun 2025 05:55PM UTC
Last Edited Sun 08 Jun 2025 05:55PM UTC
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