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darkspace7 · 7 months ago

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[That Which Protects The Falling Rain] Pt.2

[Part 1]

[Chapter Summary]

"So You Somehow Survived The Apocalypse And Have Jumped Timelines, What Do You Do Next? Get Sick And Spend A Week Regretting Life Apparently." A Novella By Uryū Ishida (Co-Written By Ichigo Kurosaki) Or, the aftermath of the first chapter in which we see first hand how things can never be easy for a traumatized teenager who somehow managed to kill God several times over. Also some friends show up. Misunderstandings ensue.

[A/N]

Anyways, here's the next chapter which I'm just as surprised as you all that this thing exists. And to think it only took me a damned year and running through two different laptops bring it to you all. (May you find peace in whatever tech afterlife there may be my dear Toshiba-san and let Honne-san carry on your memory for years to come.) It...most certainly has been a year. Well, here's ya'll's bunch of headcanons and worldbuilding stacked together on top of one another in a trenchcoat. Enjoy.

His head ached.

(…Urgh. What the fuck happened? Did I get rammed by a truck?)

Feeling as though he had just fell from a great height, consciousness slowly returned to him as he made his journey out from the oppressive dark into the muzzy blur that was the waking world.

(Maybe a hollow chucked me into the side of a building again. Holy fucking shit that hurts…)

With a slit eye, he stared out at the fuzzed miscellanea that surrounded himself with a brief haze of confusion until the cobwebs dusted themselves from his mind and he recalled –oh yeah, that’s right, I wear glasses- and groped around himself searchingly. Upon location, he slipped them on and waited as the world resolved itself around him and a few things made themselves glaringly apparent.

The first: he felt absolutely awful. There was a deep ache down to his very soul and every single piece of him felt raw. As if he had been stripped of his skin and then had it stretched over his bare skeleton and pinned back into place by a bunch of searing hot sewing needles prickling his…well…everything.

Second: he was currently back at home, in his bedroom with no real idea as to how he had come to be there. However, he had the indescribable notion that he had previously been somewhere very different and nowhere even remotely near the place whatsoever. (But if that were the case then just where had he been? And how…)

(Don’t think about it.)

And finally the most important thing: why the hell was he on the floor of all things? Urgh. (Even if he did have a rather nicely done rug that he had stitched together all by himself in his spare time –thank you very much- covering the cold hardwood beneath that was still asking for any variety of aches and pains that would hit him the very moment he sat up.) Had he had a nightmare and accidentally rolled out of bed? Well, that would explain the vague sense of creeping dread that lingered at the fringes of his mind. As if he were forgetting something important.

(Don’t think about it.)

(It had been a while since he’d had a nightmare, now that he thought about it. Truly, when had been the last time he’d woken up in a cold sweat with the air all knotted up in his chest as he struggled to breathe. Hand outstretched as he continued to reach for out for his mother grandfather but was never quite able to catch as it faded to black. How he bit back the silent screams that wanted to escape as so not to wake his sisters or his old man with the noise. But didn’t he live alone? He was an only child after all and -outside of brief snippets brought about some by rather extenuating circumstances- he hadn’t actually held a conversation with his father in literal ages. Calling their relationship strained would be generous at the best of times and it would seem as they would never even have a chance to mend it because the very last time he had saw the man it had been as he was fishing the silvered arrow out from his emaciated corpse-)

(Don’t think about it.)

(Hold on a second, even in the middle of the night it was never this quiet at his house. Where were the soft sounds of his sisters puttering about? The thuds of old goat-face as he trounced about getting himself ready for another long day at the clinic? Hell, he couldn’t even hear Kon as he scurried about doing god-knows-what like the little menace he was. Also his room looked nothing like this? Where the fuck was he???)

“Ichigo. Oh my god, just shut up. You’re giving me a headache.” He groused, staring blankly up at his ceiling.

…Wait.

(…Ishida?)

“…Ichigo???”

…Oh shit.

He jerked up (ignoring the rolling twist of his stomach as he did so) with a gasp as the feeling of hot knives were suddenly being rammed through his skull as he they thought about it.

Clutching at his head as if his life depended on it, short breaths hissed through gritted teeth as the fiery static subsided leaving a bitterly cold ache in its wake. He let out a hysterical half-sob as things continued to click into place as he remembered.

And oh dear sweet god did he remember.

(‘That…that was just a nightmare?’ It wasn’t. ‘All of that actually happened?’ Yeah...)

And now? After suffering through all of …that… they were just –what- shunted off to some alternate dimension? Thrown back in in time? Or maybe he genuinely had went mad from the stress of all those battle and what he was experiencing now was all just a dying dream as the void slowly consumed his soul.

(How morbid.)

But…

But if they truly had made it back…

Turned back the swing of the pendulum to before…

(Before Aizen had made his grandiose move. Before Yhwach rose up from the millennia old shadows with his army to enact his revenge. Before the subsequent collision. Before he failed so thoroughly at his role as a protector, swept up instead by the whims of supposed fate. Before he foolishly sought a place at the royal bastard’s side just so he could drive a stake in his deadened heart at the first chance. Before their thoughtlessness got everyone killed.)

He had to be certain. He had to check.

(Quick get your phone, check it! Hurry!)

The mad dash for the device had his sock-clad feet slip up on the bare hardwood and in the process he smacked his arm into the bedside table before he caught himself on its edge. Ignoring the bruise that was sure to form, he swiped the object from its charging dock. With a sense of trepidation, he flipped it open, wide eyes scanning for the date and stared.

There on the digital readout they stood, the numbers a stark contrast against his pale background. Right now, it was currently three-fifteen in the morning, around two years off from the date he last remembered. It hadn’t been a dream.

(It wasn’t a dream. They were back. Oh my god-)

At a loss for words, he let the device clatter to the ground, bonelessly following suit as he was slowly but surely consumed by the sort of numb disassociation that came from experiencing two weeks’ worth of repressed emotions from a lost future all at once.

He stared blankly at his hands.

They were shaking.

(I can’t believe it, we’re really back! This means that bondage-fucker’s plan actually worked holy fuck-)

Yeah, great.

The indistinct weight of another’s attention, shifting at the edge of one’s perception that could be felt but only just so. The subtle widening of eyes unseen.

(Ah, hey Uryū you good?)

Was he…good?

(Okay, yep. Stupid question. Ah...)

A wince trailed by conciliatory motion. The throes of night given substance, black-as-pitch and impossibly heavy but so very kind. This presence settled tentatively upon his shoulders. (Because of course he would; that even like this he would prioritize others over himself because that’s just who Ichigo was. Even if it was in part because of your own actions that led to everyone else getting killed –himself included- he’d still have the heart to treat you like a care-worn quilt. Even if you didn’t really deserve it.)

His breath hitched.

(Hey, easy, none of that now. I need you to do something for me, real important. Yeah? Think you can manage it?)

What?

(Okay, so I’m gonna need you to breathe in to the count of five, hold it, then release. Could you do that for me?)

He grimaced faintly. Why was he asking him to do something so asinine?

(Don’t question it dumbass. Just do it. Yeah, just like that. In…)

And so he did, despite feeling like a total idiot, the teen continued follow along to the beat of the other’s directions. But even so, he couldn’t help but notice as the knot in his chest seemed to lessen a bit more with every passing moment.

(Hold it. Keep at it. You’re doing fine.)

Ah, wait. He was having a panic attack wasn’t he? Like himself, Ichigo grew up among medical staff so it figures that he would have some sense of what to do if something like this occurred. (So why was it that he couldn’t have remembered the steps himself and spared them both the trouble of having to sit through something like this?How pathetic.)

(…And release. There. Now, you holding up a bit better?)

As he came back to himself, the presence drew back slightly but lingered around the edge of perception, almost as if uncertain whether or not to leave him be. Regardless, he didn’t quite trust the stability of his voice at the moment so in lieu of that he aimed a wave of weary appreciation in the other’s general vicinity. And judging by the sensation of a terse nod not his own, he understood.

(Okay? So…we’re in the past. Or an alternate dimension. Or...something. Holy shit. Okay, focus. Now. What do we do next? We can’t fuck this up like we did last time. So the main thing now is: we need a plan.)

“Mhm.” He agreed, blearily allowing gravity to draw him back down to the floor. The teen let himself sink into the soft blue-and-white rug. Face somewhat muffled, he said: “I’m open to suggestions.”

So, following Ichigo’s lead, they began to hash things out with the starting bullet point being the one thing they did know and then tacked on to that.

(Now, just so we're clear, this is all operating under those previously mentioned assumptions because the alternatives are just...no. Got it?)

A nod.

(Good. Okay, so as it currently stands that whole prophecy shit hasn’t fully come into play yet so we have a little bit of a leeway on that front. The way I figure it, Yhwach won’t be at his full power for another two years –give or take- which gives a set span of time that we can use for preparation. We’ll need every second of it too because, realistically, any hope we have right now of just offing him and being done with it we probably can’t feasibly pull off.)

“That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.” He said into the carpet only to earn the feeling of a mildly annoyed look and gentle thwack on his already aching head. He rolled his eyes with a grumble as the other –satisfied that there would be no further interruption- settled.

(As I was saying: That’s because I guarantee you the moment we do try poking around a bit, we risk not only setting his entire Quincy army on us but any fumbling with that will probably alert the Gotei 13 and by extension Sōsuke. We can’t forget that right now he has that bullshit hypnosis spell over everyone over there because he’s still pretending to be a good guy or whatever. ‘Sides, you and me both know how badly we’d get our collective ass kicked trying to solo a war against three different armies at the same time.)

Not that they still wouldn’t try if things ever came to that.

But, still, priorities.

“We don’t exactly know the full scope of their resources or capabilities right now nor have we really had the chance to take stock of our own situation. I mean, it was kind of a mess toward the end there so how can we be sure of what carried over and what didn’t?” Dark eyes squinted up at the ceiling as he rolled over and proceeded to ignore the severe headache behind his eyes from the motion. He could curl into a ball and wish he was dead later there were more important things to deal with right now.

“There’s also the added mess of how we’re gonna find a place where we could feasibly test them out without everyone and their mother coming to snoop.” Maybe they could see about sneaking into his father’s practice range? But then again, that ran the risk of drawing the elder Quincy’s attention and then he would –urgh- actually have to talk to his dad.

(Right. Because that would definitely lead to some awkward questions. Good point. Uh, hey Uryū what do you figure would happen if you were to square up two instances of something like “The Almighty” against one another? Would they be matched and cancel each other out or would that, like, break reality or something?)

They contemplated this for a second before deciding it was something to come back to later.

(So training and then what? More spy shit? Scoping things out?...Maybe going to grab you some painkillers or something?)

Ignoring that last jab he let his eyes fall shut, “I was thinking more along the lines of gathering allies.” He could sense the other perk up a bit. “On the Quincy side of things, I know for certain that there’s at least one person we could probably convince to join our cause and that could potentially give us an in to what the others are doing right now.” He carded his hand through the carpet’s fibers, blue-&-white wool soft against callused fingers. “Not only that, but we’d also have to find some way to sway your Reaper friends to our side. Because I hate to say it but without their added firepower the chances of us actually pulling off this little venture are next to nil. Whatever we do, we have to make sure it’s done right from the very outset if we want any of it to go according to plan.”

(Urgh, check your phrasing dude. The way that you said it there makes it feel like you’re trying to pull off a bootleg Sōsuke impression or something. Gross.)

With his free hand the teen flipped him off.

(Alright, sheesh. Don’t bite my head off. Anyways… So to sum it all up: The main issue we’re facing right now is lack of resources and we can’t do much until we have more info on how to go about getting those resources and so as it stands we’ll probably have to wing it until can be sure there are people in our corner that we can trust to get this shit done.)

“Yeah. Basically.”

(…We’ve done more with worse odds.)

“…That’s not very comforting, Ichigo.”

(I know but it’s all I’ve got so deal with it.)

The mutual urge of wanting to stick a tongue out at the other was a strong one and he would have probably followed through on it if his stomach hadn’t picked that exact moment to turn over on itself. He stifled a moan as he rode it out, hand clenching and unclenching with every wave of pain. Shit. Was it just him or was it warmer in there than usual? To distract himself from heat licking at his veins (and the increasing wave of concern he could feel radiating out from the other) he offered: “B-But on the brightside I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones who remember any of this anyway. So unlike everyone else we’re not starting at zero. We have the advantage.”

(…Right, okay. That brings us to up to what stuff we could change and what we probably shouldn’t.)

He nodded. “True, if we change too much that could be bad too. All that knowledge would be useless and…” Just the very thought of seeing the others have to face a world worse off than the one prior left a lump in his throat. (No. Absolutely not. That cannot be allowed to happen. I’ll protect them, this time.)

(I won’t watch them die again. I r e f u s e.)

Swallowing thickly, the sensation of bile built at the back of his throat alongside a groan. He pressed his palms to his eyes and let out a curse, low and vehement. His body was already feeling like an overused pincushion and this sure as hell didn’t help any. He couldn’t deny it any longer, something was wrong. Of course being thrown into an alternate past what-have-you as they had been would have some sort of cost because why wouldn’t it? God, nothing could ever be easy for them, could it?

And then there was Ichigo hovering behind his eyes, the other teen’s agitation practically overflowing from the writhing mass of eventide-in-shadowy dark. The balmy presence pressed forward, likely spurred on by his waning attention. He could feel the unspoken question on the other’s non-existent lips.–

Was he okay?

–So he hurriedly pushed himself up and bolted for the bathroom to release the meager contents of his stomach.

To which the answer was: No. He was not.

{+-----}>

Uryū Ishida was not a happy camper.

Between the ever-worsening waves of pain rolling throughout his very being as he clung to the seat of chilled porcelain they managed to work out that if your (admittedly overpowered) future self is suddenly dumped into your past body with no preparation or warning whatsoever it tends to have rather severe consequences.

Obviously.

The centerpiece of this being that evidently the sheer existence of their combined spiritual pressure was incompatible with his present, very mortal, and squishy body.

Which made sense, he supposed, seeing as they were currently a slapdash hodgepodge of Gemischt Quincy, an imprint of the genetic medley that had been Ichigo Kurosaki, the scrapings of the God-Progenitor of pretty much all modern day Quincy that had come from when aforementioned teenager had consumed the other, and whatever the holy fuck Aizen tossed in with that glowing-death-orb of his at the last minute before he too decided to dip out from existence.

(Sōsuke, still capable of screwing them over even from beyond the grave, the fucking bastard.)

Really, it was no wonder that his body had no idea how to deal with that clusterfuck of a mess. Hell, even he had trouble wrapping his head around it and he was living it. Even so, do you know what happens when a body doesn’t know how to deal with something exceedingly confusing and stressful? It tends to break down.

Violently.

But, like the deus ex machina it assuredly was, it seemed the hōgokyu was not quite done dragging him through the ringer with all the reality-bending fuckery it was known for.

Again and again, it felt as though every little piece of him was being ripped asunder only to be slapped back together not a half-second later by the scraps of the purple wishing-orb’s lingering essence in a twisted loop of make-unmake-remake. And you know, experiencing every single solitary second of this with not a moment’s chance to breathe before the whole process restarted itself as the body simultaneously tried to keep itself alive and reject its very presence really fucking sucked.

Fuck, the only reason it seemed he had not lost himself to the pain was that there was too much riding on this whole venture for him to even dare to dream of doing so. Combine that with the fact that he was also fueled by a spectacular amount of what was equal parts raw determination and sheer stubborn spite that had successfully kept him more-or-less sane –if not rather unhappy- during this whole ordeal.

(And –if failing even that- he still had Ichigo. The other’s seemingly uncanny ability to know when to swoop in and be able to distract him with the oddly soothing sensation of a hand carding through his dark hair and the steady stream of wordless nonsense that still somehow managed to heft the weight of -comfortsafedon’tworryyou’llbeokayI’mhere- that pulled him away from the tides of agony. Carrying him until he was close enough to shore that could finally take step back and breathe was something he would be eternally grateful for.)

So the teen had spent the next –he didn’t even know really…Day? Week? Time had lost all meaning to either of them as he drifted about the achy haze- alternating in the intermedium between staying curled up in his bed and being sprawled out in various spots around his modestly sized apartment as he not so low-key wanted to die.

And he likely would’ve stayed that way, contemplating how he thoroughly hated this new world already if it had not been for the sudden appearance of a loud knock upon his front door late one afternoon.

The teen groggily lifted his head from the warm blanket swathed couch from where he had decided to nest that morning and looked at the entryway with a sort disbelieving stare as he thought for a moment that he might have hallucinated the whole thing. That is until the sharp noise that once again cut through the silence of the living room proved that he –in fact- had not imagined it.

Had it really been so long that someone had finally taken note of his (or perhaps his previous self’s) leave of absence? Perhaps, but then again who would even care enough to then actually go through the effort of hunting down the rather out of the way building that he resided in for a not-so-quick social visit? He wracked his brain for a moment before quickly giving it up for a loss. Well, whoever it was they seemed really determined to get his attention if the way they were really going to town on that poor door was any indication.

But to open it and give them the satisfaction? Hm…

(Look, if it’s just some solicitors you can tell them to fuck off and then go back to wallowing in misery or whatever it is you want to do okay? Just go see who it is before they break down the damn door.)

He honestly didn’t want to get up from his spot though. It was warm there and the pain seemed to have lowered itself into almost tolerable levels today so he wasn’t really keen on doing anything that might’ve summoned the wretchedness back into existence.

…Even though the noise was kind of starting to give him a headache.

He wondered if he ignored them for long enough then maybe whoever was there would finally decide to give up and go away.

(Fat chance. Listen, if you aren’t going to do it then I will.)

Blue eyes widened as a flicker of alarm shot through him. Fumbling with the blanket’s grasp, he finally succeeded in extracting himself and sat up. “Ichigo don’t you dare-”

(For though the vast majority of their brief time together had admittedly been spent wracked with some form or pain or another they couldn’t say that they had been completely idle during the short reprieves. For a while they had attempted to return to their impromptu plotting session only to soon realize that they were getting nowhere. So, with nothing else to show for it, conversation once again shifted to other things.

Anything and everything that came to mind worked to serve as a distraction; from the stupid everyday banalities of their shared past– {such as the redhead’s lamentation for his personal book collection, now forever lost to time. And –really- with the way the other presented himself he would have never pegged him as a fan of Classical English literature with a focus on Shakespeare of all things. Although he had to admit, the unending variety of quotes that the teen could seemingly recall at the drop of a hat was both impressive and kind of dorky.} –to bodily quirks they would have never known about the other had this never happened– {There had been a rather nasty spot of dizziness earlier when the body had stood up too quickly that had managed to catch both boys flat-footed but before the elder teen could work himself into a tizzy Uryū sheepishly proceeded to admit that –actually- he might’ve have had naturally low blood pressure and that this sort of thing was not all that uncommon for him? This did nothing to assuage his concerns and despite the dark-haired boy’s repeated reassurances he still had his doubts. But as he sat back and watched as his friend chose to further expand his study on the modern caterpillar what with the veritable cocoon of assorted blankets now wrapped around his frame he decided he was willing to the matter drop…for now.} – it was all fair game.

But soon even those topics ran dry and in the lull of things the young Quincy finally turned to address the elephant in the room: their involuntary state of cohabitation. The whole mess was tricky enough as it was but if they didn’t want to spend the rest of their ungodly existence stuck alternating between snapping at each other’s heels and walking on eggshells then there was going to have to be some ground-rules.

And for the most part Ichigo agreed, if only for the sake of what was left of their collective sanities and the thin hope that this would help them successfully navigate their curious new…dynamic.

But still, who could have foreseen that the young hybrid’s past experience in wrangling unruly inner-selves would’ve come in handy when hashing out negotiations for shared bodily autonomy with his younger cousin/friend?)

But while that was surprisingly less stressful than what either teen expected for it to be that didn’t mean there hadn’t been any slip-ups in other fields, after all they were forging through untraversed ground here so there was bound to be some interesting incidents every now and again.

Such as the first time Uryū had found himself unintentionally shoved into the backseat by the elder teen. Something that had been an exceedingly unnerving event for both parties involved which had –thankfully- had only lasted about the span of a heartbeat before he somehow managed to wrestle the other’s presence back to wherever it was that the other currently resided.

(And even though the other had since apologised for it and he knew that Ichigo wouldn’t truly abuse this power without his consent unless something was deeply wrong because that just wasn’t who he was the incident remained etched in his mind. Just, the idea that someone else could take control like that brought forth an instinctual sort of panic that he couldn’t quite quash.)

But that was all that he managed to get out before he found himself being (oh so very gently) tugged away from the reins, unable to do anything but watch his body leveraged itself up and off the couch before moving over towards the door. He floundered for a bit before he found himself thrust back into control. The transition was so jarring that it sent a wave of dizziness strong through him that he had to clutch at the side of the genkan to stay upright.

As he waited for the nausea to pass he grimaced and was sure to radiate the sensation of absolute annoyance to which the other merely responded with the impression of being utterly unmoved. A raised brow and nod to the door in a silent ‘well, go on then’. Exasperated, he moved toward the door and braced himself.

“Asano, you complete dumbass.”

“Hey you’re the one who shoved me Ms. Enter-the-Dragon so that makes you just as guilty.”

“One, that’s a kung fu flick which is a completely separate thing. And two, that’s not how any of that works so just be a man and own up to it when you do stupid shit.”

“So??? Do you really think I know all the specifics about that stuff?” With arm folded across his chest, the remaining hand flapped about in a vague gesture. He grumbled the last bit under his breath, “And honestly I could say the same for you, freaking martial arts nut.”

“Bullshit, I know you know the difference and what was that you little turd?” She stalked forward.

“Ack! Mizuiro help me!”

“Ah, so you were at here after all.”

The other two froze halfway through their skit with a look on their faces not unlike a child caught with their hands in the snack drawer before in unison turning to face the newcomer.

“Oh, hey. Yeah, sorry about your plant. Someone got a little overzealous with their knocking.” She jerked her head over to where the poor thing sat; delicate blue-and-white petals lay crushed under heavy shards of terracotta while decorative stones were cast indiscriminately over hallway carpet to which the teen felt a pang of sadness.

He liked that plant.

It was a lovely little hyacinth that Mrs. Yamada –one of the more tenured nurses at his father’s hospital- had gifted to him for his fourteenth birthday along with a small sealed container of mackerel miso soup and some homemade lavender cookies just because he ‘reminded her a bit of her grandfather’ or something like that. The fiery old bird could cook like a master chef, took absolutely no shit from anyone, and the very day she hit seventy she proceeded to pack her bags and headed to Spain for a well-deserved retirement. And now the only thing left he had to remember her by was broken.

Great.

“Sup dude!” Evidently oblivious to his obvious dismay the brunet gave a small wave from where he hung limply in the other’s grasp. “So, yeah, I thought maybe you couldn’t hear me so if knocked harder then you would but then she shoved me!”

“Don’t you dare try to pin this on me you-”

He stared blankly as the two once more began to bicker which rapidly devolved into Tatsuki attempting to commit murder via strangulation when the other male inevitably stuck his foot into his mouth.

The whole song and dance was somewhat nostalgic to be honest.

And so was the incoming headache, unfortunately.

(Well, seeing as the running theme of things appears to be entirely made up of the universe tossing stuff at us that genuinely make me want to rethink all my life choices up to this point–) He pinched the bridge of his nose and bit back an exasperated sigh, dark eyes trailing down to the mess now scattered across his front step. (Maybe we can close the door while they’re distracted and pretend this never happened? Just…give up and go back to bed? They probably wouldn’t even notice…) At this point that didn’t even seem like a bad idea.

(C’mon man, I mean something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. Holy shit, look at them go. I haven’t seen the two of them this pissed at each other since that time the class tried to figure out who the greatest stunt actor of all time was. Remember, when Keigo tried to use his chair as a shield –dunno why he thought that do him any good. She just wound up just snapping the damn thing in half- Chad had to scruff her like one of those mother cats in order to keep her from ripping his throat.)

(No??? When was this?)

(Last January, I think? It was the first Monday after we got off break. Miss Ochi was out so we had a sub and they got ticked off at the mess and made everyone stay late to it clean up after chewing us out for letting it get that far.)

(Ah. Actually, I think was out sick that day. Inoue had stopped by the night before and dropped off one of her…more elaborate concoctions…and insisted that I tried it. And, well…)

(Food poisoning?)

(Yeah.)

As the echoes of fond halcyon days bled away to bittersweet reminisce a wash of loneliness hit him –hit them- so suddenly that he had to clutch at the door frame to keep himself steady. As quickly as it stuck, the sensation drew back and in its wake left such gaping maw that he fought for a second to just simply breathe.

(Seeing them like this, untouched by the horrors brought about from beings centuries their senior who were equipped with powers beyond mortal comprehension and still able to joke and goof around. It was sobering. Right here and now they were just kids acting their age weren’t they? They were all so young.)

(Fucking hell, were we ever like that? Just…able to just fuck around and not really have to worry about the finding out?)

(…I suppose so.)

(Yes, perhaps once upon a time, long long ago before everything that made them who they were occurred. Really, it was just another reminder of what was at stake.

And wasn’t that a heavy thought?

That if they truly succeeded in this monumental wager then perhaps the instance of their once dear compatriots that now stood before them would forever be the norm, carrying about their day to day lives undisturbed by the supernatural entities that plagued this world as a whole, forever ignorant of the travesty that befell their prior incarnations.

And if the only hope to see their family spared of such a tragic stage was at the cost of bloodstained hands forever cursed to carry the enormity of a lost world upon itself along with the direct knowledge of what could have been that had they themselves not manipulated and manhandled into unrecognizability then that was the price that they would pay a thousand times over all so the others would never be damned to suffer the ill-fated devastation that had been wrought by their own accursed hands.)

“…Ishida?” He jolted, drawing in a startled breath. Ah shit, he had completely forgotten the third member of their little troupe who was now currently standing right behind him in his flat.

(When had the other seen fit to invite himself in? Actually, no, scratch that, how had he done so without either of them noticing???)

(Whoa I think I might’ve zoned out for a bit there, did he say something just now?)

(How should I know? You think I could pay any attention while those two are going on like a bunch of wet cats caught outside during a monsoon in the background?)

(Fuck, when did he even start talking anyway? Wait, is he giving us the look? Ah man, he is. We’ve been quiet for too long I think he’s keyed into that something’s up. Say something!)

Snapping back to reality he noticed how Mizuiro had leveled him an expectant stare, presumably awaiting his response. Under such scrutiny pale cheeks dusted somewhat as the teen cast back for a response. However as he floundered about for something –anything- to say his mind simply drew a blank and the first thing that came out of his mouth was a rather dumbfounded: “How did you even know where I live?”

Judging by the way the other’s expression seemed to briefly crack before remolding itself into that plain smoothed-out placidity that the other was known the town over for that his response evidentially had been the wrong thing to say.

Shit had he already cocked everything up or perhaps had the other (hopefully) misconstrued the situation? With Kojima, it was always a guessing game of which was which as the inscrutable bastard had a nasty habit of playing things close to his chest until it could benefit him in some way. This penchant for the subtle theatrics was a talent that served him well when it came time to persuade some of the more ruthless students around campus into…keeping the peace… with their newly formed school disciplinary committee (which Ichigo himself had been guilted into becoming a member of with the stipulation of it being on a per commission basis.)

(There was a reason that he had never really put up too much of a fuss about where the other’s money came from. Not only had it been a solid source of income, but he personally didn’t want to be the one to find out whether that rumour going around that the teen had some sort of connection to the business had any merit. Not because he would view the other any differently for his relations or anything stupid like that –oh no- it was because he was more than already certain that they were entirely founded and that the less he knew about his friend’s illicit affairs the better he would able to sleep at night.)

In other words the dark haired teen had always been really fucking observant so if anyone were to notice something was up then it’d probably be him.

(‘Or maybe-’ The little conspiracy theorist in the back of his mind whispered, ‘–just maybe there had already been a shift in the timeline and all of this is just reaping the aftereffects? After all, as far as you can recall none of your extended friend circle had ever received the honour of knowing your personal address, right?’ Oh great. Now he was definitely going to be stuck in a spiral because once the thought had cropped up he couldn’t not think about it. ‘Because while I might not have done such a thing what if the instance of myself that we seem to have unfortunately superimposed over in fact had and through this gaff I have somehow already ousted us as an imposter? What other blocks in this already shaky tower would crumble next and how long before it would all come crashing down upon their collective head?’)

What indeed…

Urgh, he could already feel the headache worsening.

(Well…I mean, this sort of thing’s always kind of a last resort but…How quickly do you think you could gather up everything we need to pull a runner because I’d say we could be out that window and halfway out to Yokohama before anyone would be able to catch up with us? Just as a suggestion.)

Kojima, whether oblivious to his internal distress or just wisely choosing not to comment on it, it seemed had also came to the conclusion that egging on the spectacle upon his doorstep would be fruitless and had evidently opted to join him in ignoring their fellow classmates in favor of continuing the somewhat one-sided conversation.

“Well, you know how I’m a class officer too, right?” A short nod. “And you know just as well as I do what the Head Office is like.” Unfortunately, he did. “So it seems like somebody went and narc'd to the board –personally I think it was Yukimura from 3-B, the snitch- about all the ‘rough’ and ‘unruly’ students that have been hanging around town.” The subtle look of disapproval from the shorter teen was enough for the both of them to silently send their condolences to the sorry bastard along with anyone else in the blast radius. The morons wouldn’t even know what hit them. With a small shake of the head, Kojima continued on. “Naturally the high-strung boneheads got it into their skulls that the sure-fire course of action was to implement a new school-wide campaign focused on ‘Curbing Delinquency in Our Honoured Youth’ and first order of business was to start cracking down on truancy.”

(So in other words, the stodgy old coots got their panties in a twist and now the first people to step out of line are of course the ones to placed on the chopping block. Got it.)

“All for the sake of maintaining their ‘pristine image’ I presume.” Was his response to both.

The sheer dryness of the statement managed worm a snort out of his classmate. “Rather blunt way of putting it, but yeah. If you ask me I think the teachers were just tired of having to drag people to the nurse after they got nailed by the gate’s auto-lock when they tried slip past it to ditch class.” Mizuiro said, eyeballing the small mountain of covers that had been cast to the floor with a thinly-veiled curiosity.

(Yeah, besides everyone and their mother knows the front gate’s no good. The school’s too cheap to oil the track so not only is it a pain and a half to try and shimmy through when the damn thing randomly closes in on you but it’s loud as all hell too. Now the service door behind the gym on the other hand, a single solid kick to those rusty latches and you’ve got yourself a quick getaway…)

“Yeah, they were really sold on the whole ‘zero-tolerance’ thing. Heck, there were even some talk about making an example out of the first batch of students that they caught slacking on their attendance.”

Shit.

“…Is that so?”

The shorter teen leveled him a wry side-eye, “Although when a certain member of the student council pointed out that if the head office were to make such a hasty judgement without even taking a second to ascertain the circumstances behind such unexcused absences then by chance wouldn’t that mean our dear class president could be grouped together with other much more notorious offenders?”

“A-Ah. Well, yes I suppose that’s...”

“And that’s not good for anyone now is it? After all, there must be a perfectly rational reason for someone with previously perfect attendance to have all but disappeared off the face of the planet without so much as a warning thus leaving his classmates and fellow student council members in the lurch as to have to deal with everything in his absence now wouldn’t there be?”

He wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light but for a second there Kojima’s placid smile seemed to twist into something darker –more menacing- and were it not for the incorporeal hand that came to rest upon his shoulder –a silent reminder to just stop, take a moment, and b r e a t h e- he would have succumbed to the hair-trigger urge to form his bow and level it at the other’s brow.

And really, when had he even taken the first step back? Was the mere possibility of something more lurking behind his schoolmate’s shadow enough to have him jump the gun with such a fervor that he’d end the other’s life without a second thought? What utter foolishness. He was better than that.

(But was he really though? After all, wasn’t there an old saying somewhere that ‘the worst wounds we bear are always brought about by those closest to us?’ And besides, it wouldn’t have been the first time that he had done such a thing in cold blood, nor would it be the last.)

Letting himself unspool from that overly tense spring he ruthlessly squashed the impulse for further self-recrimination. Even so, that could’ve spelt disaster. Especially considering the fact that –to his current faulty knowledge base- the other’s spiritual awareness would have been more or less dormant right now so he pretty much would’ve just looked like a dork pulling a weird pose or something and not the very real threat he actually was.

(But, like, seriously. How the fuck did Mizuiro manage to pull off such an intimidating presence like that without even batting an eyelash? Why can’t we do that? So unfair...)

Now equipped with a with a shellac-thin composure that would most likely crack like the candied coating it was the very moment that any pressure was set upon it the teen’s mouth started to move, “A-Ah well, there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for that. Which is-”

Mizuiro raised a brow.

(Ichigo help me out here.)

(…Yeah. I got nothing. Sorry. Good luck! You’ll need it.)

(What?! You jerk-)

…Fuck. Time to wing it.

“-that I’m not quite sure where you’re going with this?”

…Nailed it.

“…Really?”

“Yes?”

“Really.” It wasn’t a question.

Ignoring the dual-part judgemental incredulity and utter exasperation radiating from his personal tagalong was a notable effort but he valiantly kept at a straight face and doubled down on his decision.

“Yes.”

“…”

(...)

“…Alright then.”

And that was the only warning he received before Mizuiro lurched forward causing the taller boy to recoil, dark blue eyes involuntarily screwed shut as he braced for the blow…

…only to blink as he felt something soft and laminated thwap against his chest. Bewildered, he risked a glance down at the manicured hand before him and followed it down to the violet folder currently pressed against his bosom. With all the grace of a rusty robot, he mechanically took the proffered item and (in the process entirely missing the strange glint in the other’s eyes) took a peek inside.

…It was just some office forms and a couple of annotated lecture notes clipped to the corresponding worksheets. Nothing remarkable or special about them whatsoever.

Confusion apparent, Uryū’s gaze flicked up to other as he tried to gauge the teen’s intent. Finding nothing out of the ordinary he twisted his focus inward to the shadow on his soul to which the other boy merely gave a small shrug, equally as clueless.

“…It’s the coursework for the rest of the week. Miss Ochi was just gonna chuck it in the bin with the rest of the extras so she could go skive off and ogle Mr. Toudou over a cup of bad teacher’s lounge coffee; had it bagged and everything. Luckily, I managed to snag it from the clean-up crew before the whole thing got hauled out to the trash.” He gave a small nod, gaze distant. “Yeah, they were weirdly nice about the whole thing too; something about people’s notebooks disappearing just before midterms or something? I’m not entirely sure, anyways…It was no big deal, really.”

Here the other’s faint smirk faded into something a touch more sour. The faint but unmistakeable sense of irritation perking the two-in one teen’s curiosity. “At least, until Hanya decided to show his face.”

Ah, that explained it. If there was any individual who could instantly put the shorter teen in a bad mood then that person most certainly had to be their shifty Vice-Principal.

There was no shortage of strange rumours about the man and how he out of nowhere went and ditched what was supposedly a pretty cushy spot at some hoity-toity private academy in Sumaru only to do an about face the following day and transfer to their plain old public school the next town over. And it wasn’t like you could even ask the tightwad about it either because the very moment you dared to try the guy’d go off on you and start spouting something about: ‘Don’t you know how it was rude it was to gossip?!’ and ‘Teens like you shouldn’t be spreading crass rumours!’ Then, if he was in a particularly bad mood you’d land yourself in detention.

Naturally, this did not work whatsoever and only served to further alienate him from the student body where he was regarded by most as either a tedious annoyance at best or a downright pompous narcissistic creep at the very worst. But for some inexplicable reason it seemed that there was no one in the school that Hanya had it out for more than Kojima himself and from what they could see the feeling was likely mutual.

(Or, at least, that’s what his admittedly spotty memory of the whole situation told him. Were these little snippets of information their alternate self’s memories superimposed upon their own and trying to helpfully fill in the blanks? Did they have someone on staff with that name back in their old world too? He didn’t know and he honestly couldn’t remember-)

“We were already out by the incinerator and everything but when he caught the others standing around and talking to me instead of cleaning he started going off on us, tossing all sorts of wild allegations left and right. Such a distasteful show, and presented by a faculty member no less! Any sane person wouldn’t be able to let something like that slide, right? You’d have to do something-” Mizuiro fumed.

(‘So he pretty much went off on him…’)

“—because, like, aren’t class officers are supposed to advocate against such egregious displays when presented by both student and staff alike? No, I’m serious. Like, that’s literally the job description in the school’s charter, I checked. And, well, it’s not like anyone else was going to step in because you know what those office flunkies are like the second any of the higher ups get so much as mentioned.” And underneath his breath he muttered, “The cowards-”

(He absolutely went off on him.)

Like a line cast out to sea, he seemed to be caught in the waves for a moment before becoming aware of himself and reeling back a touch, “-ah, um sorry…” The teen rubbed at the back of his head, looking a little sheepish before straightening. “But yeah, one thing lead to another and I got sent to the office.”

“Wait, just to clarify, you’re the only one who got in trouble?” He asked incredulously, “That’s…”

(Dude, that’s fucked up.)

“I mean, yeah? It got the others out of the line of fire so I can’t really complain?” A shoulder briefly rose in a sort of half-shrug; a truly hapless gesture of ‘yeah, sure, it sucked but might as well make the most of it.’ “Besides, it’s not like it was all bad. Miss Amano was on admin duty today.”

(Amano? Oh that’s a relief.)

The rolling sense of relaxing shadow muddled with something positive spurred a bolt of confused-curiosity from the dark-haired teen until the dark presence ‘twisted’ to face him.

(She was a teaching assistant in charge of handling the younger years and spent a lot of time helping out Mr. Toudou. All of the grunt work the other teachers didn’t want to do was usually her problem which is probably why you didn’t run into each other all that often.)

Ah, that made sense. But even so…

(You seem rather fond of her?)

(Well yeah? Amano was actually one of the few decent people on the staff roster. She was always genuinely cheerful and never really let their stupid hazing get to her. Plus she said she actually liked my hair, apparently it reminded her of her roommate’s or something? S’probably why the old farts rigged it so she’d have to transfer out at the end of second year. And I stand by what I said the first time, everyone and their mother saw that there was no way in hell that those test scores could’ve been botched! I-)

(Ichigo.)

The shadowed mass went from a frothing mess to as still as the grave so fast that it was enough to twist his already tumultuous insides. Biting back the bile in his throat –because he was not going to throw up on his favourite hand-crocheted blanket while his troublesome classmate looked on, he refused- the teen’s slender fingers eased out of their death grip on the manila folder. The heavy wriggling of other’s not-form slowly returned, albeit at a more sedate pace.

(…Sorry.)

“So,” He began a little roughly, “she let you off the hook?”

“…Mhm.” A nod, “Once I told her about what happened outside she was all too happy to let us off the hook just so long as we went and did a little errand for her for her first. Yeah, something about ‘doing time through a bit of community service’ and ‘to be sure to put the fear of god into them’ or something like that just so long as we kept it on the down-low of just who authorized the whole thing.” A mischievous light shone in the shorter boy’s eyes. “Playing a bit of messenger bird in exchange or being able to fly the coop? An easy deal if you ask me.”

The gears were turning, “Wait…so that whole bit earlier?”

“…I might’ve taken some creative liberties.” He smirked, “But what can I say? I’m nothing if not thorough with my work.”

…So the entire time he felt as though his heart was about to burst out of his chest and that he were wobbling on the edge, a hair’s length from his (third? Fourth?? First??? Final) death and the other was simply fucking with him? He let that thought sit for a moment. Let it percolate. Let it ruminate. Contemplated his place in the universe and the vague constellation of stars that somehow aligned to bring him to this very place, this very moment.

And then proceeded to nope out.

(Distantly he felt that gentle tenebrous warmth slide into place as his body took in a rather deep breath and released. His Their hands, still clutching that accursed folder, came together as if to pray for strength before slowly lowering themselves and twisting ninety-degrees to face the accused. Their expression only could be described as something belonging to the family of ‘are you fucking kidding me right now?’)

“…Mizuiro.”

And proceeded to whack him on the head with the folder.

“You’re such a dick.”

“You know I am.” Mizuiro admitted with a shrug and an honest-to-god laugh. Preempting another strike, he hurriedly took a step back out of the folder’s range. The other teen seemed to grouse a bit before letting out a reluctant sigh and permitting the thing come to rest at his side, having conceded defeat. For now, anyway. Somewhat thrown by the seemingly easy victory, the shorter boy raised a brow.

“You act like you’re surprised but who else would go along with my improv so spectacularly and match it with a one-to-one bit their own?” He shook his head with a scoff, “The idiot duo back there? Please.”

“Mhm. But I can still call you out on it though, can’t I?”

It was a fair point but…

(‘I honestly thought that was Keigo’s job though?’)

He felt a wash of confusion at what was presumably yet another difference. Those hastily preconstructed towers were being pulled down faster either of them could cope and if was to be some stupid missed in-joke that would finally do them in then he was going to scream.

However, instead of giving note to the thought, the one in control of the body turned his their face to the side with a faint scowl. Looking for all the world as though he had seemingly dismissed the other in favour of more important things.

(When the truth of the matter was that he much preferred to let their gaze travel around the rather sparse apartment in contrast to the facing the awkwardness of prolonged eye-contact and the other teen’s way too keen expression. Uryū’s dissociation was already putting him on edge enough as it was and he didn’t need to accidentally check out in front of these guys as well.)

Glossing over the small touches of personality –(a little janky plush thing wedged into the cranny of an otherwise neat bookshelf over here, some hastily stashed books with geometric stitching patterns on the cover there, and all the other various knickknacks scattered about that signified that someone did in fact live there)— their attention shifted to land on the covers scattered about the floor.

Sock-clad feet shuffled over to the pile as blue eyes briefly studied the comfortable mix-match of fabrics. Slowly, the body knelt down, Ichigo fighting back a strained grimace as he went and gathered the sizable mass into his their arms. Hands paused ever so slightly on the knitted afghan as a look of contemplation crossed his their face.

“Then what about the other two?”

Ichigo shifted the worn knit to wrap around their shoulders, bearing it not unlike one of the many mantles that Uryū had been so fond of wearing when they were younger. The warm fabric acting as though it were a shield between them and this twisted mirror-like version of their friend. The rest of the bedding was summarily balled up and tossed onto the couch with a huff.

(Neither of them noticed the flicker of concern on Mizuiro’s face as they seemed to sway on their feet for a second but successfully managed to catch themselves on the edge of coffee table. Nor did they notice, so caught up in the internal dialogue were they, that as they righted themselves and the tension bled out of their form it seemed to remain etched in his.)

‘Yeah, so I guess that’s how we came to came to find you on my doorstep. But that doesn’t really explain what they were doing here as well.’ The feeling of crossness drew him back to the surface, ‘Or why they felt the need to break my stuff.’ He thought with a mild huff as he took back control.

As if summoned by the thought (or perhaps finally distracted from the epic battle of dumbassery at the door) it seemed that Keigo finally managed to escape his dueling partner’s grasp. Quickly dancing away from her reaching hands, he finally stepped into the apartment proper.

Conceding defeat (for now) Tatsuki followed suit. “What about us?”

(Oh so they’re all just gonna come in now? Okay. Sure. At least have the decency to shut the damn door while you’re at it…)

Taking it upon himself to do just that, he turned back to face them. A hand tightened around the makeshift shawl, securing it in his tight grasp.

“What I mean is, Mizuiro-” He tipped his head toward said boy, resolutely ignoring how his head seemed to throb at the action. “-I can understand, but why are you here?” The teen groused.

Keigo just stared at him as if he had suddenly burst out in full traditional Quincy garb and then proceeded to give them an all expense included monologue about the whole truth of their fucked up situation and spared none of the nitty-gritty god-murdering world-ending details.

“Ishida. Dude.” He spoke slowly, as if they were the dumb ones here and he had to spell it out for them. “You’ve been gone for like ages and no one’s heard a single word about it. There’s already, like, five different rumours about your death going around. I even heard the handicraft’s club was planning on holding a séance.”

He very deliberately did not react. “I-It hasn’t even been a week.”

“Well yeah, but when someone like ‘Mr. Perfect Attendance Class President Ishida’ decides to dip for that long? People tend to take notice and start theorizing.” He put one hand under his chin and did a little theatrical wave with the other, “They say stuff like: ‘Oh gee it must be something big that nailed him like...a huge mystery illness that would drop even the most stalwart of men’ or ‘Maybe he was indoctrinated into this demonic alien cult and just been taken aboard their secret mothership parked just outside the atmosphere as they planned their next move.’” There was a gleam to his eye as he began to get more into it and his gestures got more energetic.

“O-Or maybe he was kidnapped by a mysterious gang of strange ladies that would only state their demands if in the presence of a strapping young lad under the age of twenty but in the process of negotiations the daughter of a big business conglomerate somehow managed to fall for him at first sight and as a result wanted to take him as consort but on their way to elope somehow they managed become the center of a political murder mystery thus necessitating the help of local amateur gumshoe detective Asano Keigo and his assistants to crack the case!” Already lost in the fantasy he let out a semi-maniacal cackle.

“...Right.”

(He’s completely lost the plot.)

(Oh totally.)

(...Should we, y’know?)

(Nah, Tatsuki’s got this. Watch.)

The aforementioned girl rolled her eyes, stalking over to the still cackling teen and unceremoniously bonked Keigo on the head. A whine escaped his lips and he stopped instantly. With a betrayed look he rubbed at the spot, grumbling all the while.

“Ignore him. He’s being a moron again.” She went on, folding an arm across her chest as she shot Uryū a mildly exasperated yet commiserating smile. “What he meant to say was that we were worried about your dumbass. Or well, at least he was-” Tatsuki jerked a thumb over to Mizuiro, “-but me? Truth is I felt kind of bad just leaving Kojima to the wolves like that.” She gave a small shrug. “So I tracked him down just before he left and made him spill the beans about this whole home delivery deal. Figured why not tag along since I’m kind of familiar with the area.”

The smile dimmed somewhat, “But when he mentioned you lived sorta out of the way, I didn’t think he meant this far out. I mean, this place is so far out in the middle of nowhere that I’m surprised you’re still even in our school district. Not only that but it’s kind of a pain to even get up to the front door! Anyone ever tell you that?”

Yes. And it was that way for a reason. A less populated area meant less prying eyes to his comings and goings at all hours of the night. Less prying eyes meant fewer people trying to dig into your personal business. And of course fewer people meant less collateral damage if an errant hollow was ever suicidal enough to follow him home. Not that these guys knew any of that so all he said was, “Once or twice, yes.”

His gaze traveled to Keigo, who was now prodding at the small plush on his bookshelf curiously. “And him?”

“Huh? Oh right, him.” Her friendly look flattened into one of annoyance. “Yeah, dumbass over there on the other hand just really wanted to ditch cleaning duty early.” And as if sensing the other was about to do something stupid again she whirled around to level a pointed look at the brown-haired teen “Isn’t that right, Keigo.”

“As if. Also, rude.” Said teen muttered. But thankfully he took the hint and put the fragile plush back on the shelf, seeming somewhat put out as he did so.

(Impressive.)

(Yeah, back when we were little whenever me and the other kids from the dojo were gonna do something stupid she’d somehow just know. Trying to deny it wouldn’t work either because she’d just call us out on it and then go tattle to one of the instructors. She liked to call it her ‘Big Sister ESP’ which didn’t make a damn bit of sense because not only is she an only child but she was the youngest kid in our group by, like, two days.)

(Sounds like you were on the receiving end of it loads of times.)

(Oi.)

“And that’s pretty much the whole story.” Exasperated, she rolled her eyes and turned to face him fully but as she finally seemed to take in his haggard appearance the look of irritation made way for a concerned scowl. “But, dude, for real are you okay? You don’t look too hot.”

Keigo rubbed his hands together as he cast a final quick glance about the room before turning to face Uryū as well. The brunet seemed, for lack of a better word, uncomfortable. “Yeah, she’s right. You look like shit.” And suddenly, as if something just occurred to him, a look of worry-tinged suspicion crossed his face. He backed up slightly, brown eyes squinting at the other teen. “Wait you aren’t contagious are you? Because, like...whatever you got looks nasty. I don’t want to be no patient zero’s plus one if you catch my drift.”

“Keigo!”

“What? Come on, we were both thinking it!”

“So? You don’t just-” An arm pulled away from her chest to grasp the air fruitlessly as she let out a noise of frustration. “Have some tact man!”

Jolting slightly at the other’s careful touch, it took him a second longer than it probably should have to process Kojima’s presence beside of him. Blue eyes flickered between the two teens yowling at each other like a bunch of wet strays then over to the calmer boy watching the action play out not unlike a spectator at a tennis match. Urgh, just the mere thought of yet another argument had his head hurt preemptively from the noise. Yeah, better to cut them off before it even started.

“Guys, I’m fine. Really.” Because while he admittedly did felt like shit, surely he didn’t look as bad as they were making it out to be, right?

(...)

(...Right?)

“Y-Yeah.” He turned back to the other two as neither of them seemed to pay them any mind whatsoever. “Just fine...”

And was it just him or was this all getting to be a bit too much? Even the presence of Mizuiro’s chilled hand on his shoulder was starting to prick at something deep and indescribable within his patchwork soul. Quietly the folder still clutched within his grasp began to crinkle.

(Uryū! Mind the papers!)

‘What? Oh!’ Realizing what he had been about to do he went to quickly dispose of the item before the other teen’s thoughtful gift got ruined any further.

But it was then, as he went to bend over the coffee table to set the folder down that the sudden shift in position sent a sharp spire of pain coursing throughout their very being. A feeling not that different from someone having up and went to town with an ice pick on his skull had him seeing stars and with a quickly darkening sky to match.

A quiet intake of breath. That’s pretty much all the warning they got before the floor steadily drew itself up to meet them (or perhaps he was going down to meet it?)

And he was down.

A pause.

Then–

“What the fu-“

“Oh shit-!”

“Uryū!”

–three teens scrambled reach his side. All talking over each other in a rush of chaos and panicked noise.

“Oh my god is he dead?!”

“Holy shit-“

“I knew something was up! Like I didn’t want to be the one who said it first and I’m sure Kojima’ll agree with me here but, he looked sick. Like sick sick. One foot in the grave sick. And oh my god are we watching a dude die right now oh my god-”

“Clear some room! You two help me get him onto the couch-“

His consciousness was already starting to fade in and out as they struggled to get him to the couch but even as he sunk further into the deep night he could still hear snippets of their terrified fervor.

“Ow!”

Keigo let out a small yelp and jerked back from the fallen teen only to be directly on the receiving end of a daggered stare courtesy of the lone girl of their troupe. “Stop screwing around Asano!”

“He shocked me!” The brunet cried, pointed an incredulous finger at the downed boy.

Dark brows furrowed and lips parted slightly as the girl leveled him an absolutely dumbfounded expression before she got pissed, “Are you fucking serious right now?! Ignore the damn static cling and help us get him up here!”

“R-Right.”

As they got him into a suitable position Keigo pulled back once again and watched the two fuss about their fallen friend. His mouth continued to move in a stream of nervous word vomit, “Oh man, what do we do?! Television makes this stuff seem so much less complicated. I mean, like, the dude just...dropped out of nowhere! One second he’s fine and then...blam! He’s down on the ground and out for the count. Does he really have some secret terminal medical thingy going on? Is that why?? Do we, y’know, take him to the hospital??? Argh dang it, I knew I shouldn’t’ve skipped health class...” He grasped at his hair, staring off into the middle distance.

(And it was that last little bit of noise that sent an instinctual spike of blind panic through them. If it were to come to light that the Director’s son had just been admitted to A&E with some form of unexplainable illness the news would most certainly reach his father’s desk within the hour. And Ryūken, for all that he spurned the supernatural world and those who participated within its boundaries in favour of the more mundane, the man was neither blind nor stupid. He was, by the very blood flowing through his veins, still a Quincy. Their razor-thin plausible deniability would be pierced through in a heartbeat by the man’s prodding and soon to follow their skull; courtesy of a charged Heilig Pfeil. And the second that happened the lives and afterlives of everyone around them would instantly be forfeit. Come be what may they could not let themselves be taken to the hospital.)

It was this desperate thought that allowed him to use that as a ballast to rise through the muddled dark just enough to poke out through the murky surface. His jerking gasp caused all three teens to startle.

They were at his side in an instant, “Easy there Uryū.” Mizuiro gently tilted his head to right and tried not wince at the sheer heat radiating off of the other boy. “Don’t push yourself.” And to the others in a low voice he muttered, “He’s burning up.”

“How bad?”

“Bad.” As in: he legitimately did not know how the other had even been standing, let alone able to hold a semi-coherent conversation with them.

It was Keigo who noticed that he was trying to make his opinion known on the matter, “Guys, shush!” And to Uryū: “Hey there bud, didn’t quite catch that. Mind repeating it?”

“No...”

“...No?”

“N-No...No hos…pitals.” Why was it so hard to get the words out? He reached out blindly for the nearest thing that could sense on his peripherals and was met with a balm of cool lakewater stopped just shy of freezing against the raging surge of an ocean black as pitch; Mizuiro’s hand. Already he could feel the stormy dark dragging him back under but just as he slipped back beneath its grasp a single desperate plea escaped his lips.

“Please.”

And then he was gone, lost once more to the waves.

There was a moment of silence before the trio once more burst out into panic.

“Wah he passed out again?!”

“What do you mean ‘no hospitals’? In the state you’re in?! Don’t be a dumbass!”

“W-What do we do-”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t you want a doctor when you’re this sick?!?”

“D-Do we just...go ahead and call someone or...?”

They were shocked into silence as the third member of their party suddenly rose from his place at Uryū’s side and made his way over to the kitchenette where he proceeded to rummage through the cabinets. The two of them shared a baffled look as this seemingly nonsensical course of action had them scratching their heads for all of two seconds until he reemerged from behind the partition with his newfound prize; a medium sized bowl now filled with a decent amount of semi-chilled water from the tap and a novelty kitchen towel, having once been lost to the depths of a junk drawer, now stood a notable presence draped across his shoulder. He lugged his precious cargo back over to their little cluster, taking care not to spill a drop of it as he sat the bowl down, and reclaimed his spot at the edge coffee table.

“Kojima?”

In lieu of a response, he opted to position the other’s limbs into a more comfortable arrangement. Once satisfied with that Mizuiro’s focus then shifted to the glasses perched his friend’s face. With deft hands, he slid his fingers underneath the thin wire-frames and carefully tugged them off, taking care as to not smudge the lenses when he folded the earpieces up and set them to the side. Finished with that, he went to work dousing the fabric in the cool liquid. As he shuffled about the space, it was hard not to notice how the shorter teen carried himself with this sort of inscrutable countenance; the face a careful blank all save for a subtle furrowing of his brow.

It was Keigo who broke the silence next, “You know what’s going on, don’t you.”

The boy paused in his ministrations and there was a long silence before he finally spoke.

“...Uryū’s father is currently employed at Karakura General.”

“...So, he’s a doctor?”

“Yes. Or, well, not exactly...” The teen took another moment to parse his words, hands absently reaching back into the bowl to wring out the soaked cloth between them as did. He carefully laid the damp towel across the other’s forehead, “He’s actually the Director there.”

“...Wow, that’s certainly something.” And then a thought occurred to her, “Hold on a sec. If that’s the case then it makes even less sense for him to be like this.” She gestured pointedly at the boy lying prone before them. “You think a doctor wouldn’t notice their own kid getting sick like this?”

“Well, maybe he just too busy at the moment to really do anything about it?” Keigo offered haltingly, however when faced with the twin stares he hastened to explain himself, “W-Well, I mean, he just said he was a hospital director or something which means the guy’s pretty important right? And, hey, important people do important stuff all the time! Like...go on super long trips for business.” He made a vigorous series of hand motion, as if to illustrate his point. “And when they’re on these long trips don’t they cut off all contact so they can go ahead focus only on the big business stuff, yeah? So, maybe that’s what happened. His dad had to go out of town for this huge important medical conference or whatever and everything was going all good until then out of the blue Ishida was struck by this sudden mystery illness. And our man Ishida, being the good guy that he is, didn’t want to bother his old man when he was doing something so important so he thought he’d try toughing it out while waiting for to get back? Or something along the lines of that maybe?”

“Asano. While that’s a nice thought, I sincerely doubt that is the case here. After all,” While he seemed was patient on the surface one couldn’t help but note the faintest hint of something else lurking in his tone as he stared down at the body before him. “Uryū doesn’t live with his father.”

“H-Huh?”

Dark brown eyes narrowed, “What are you trying to get at Kojima?”

“I mean,” He started slowly, a rare look of consternation flashed across his face as he met the girl’s energy with a soft-yet-acerbic tone of his own. “Look around you; at the single set of shoes at the door, or the lone bedroom down the hall. He doesn’t even have enough food in the fridge for one person, let alone two.” He leveled a pointed gesture back at the object in question, his other hand coming to make a tight fist against his pantleg. “No, there hasn’t been anyone else here but him for a long time.”

“B-But that’s...” But before he had a chance to speak Mizuiro cut him off, signalling the other to give him a second. At his side, he clenched and unclenched his fist, repeating the gesture until the circulation flowed back into the digits. Once the feeling had returned to them, he then smoothed out the creases in his uniform pants with a silent note to further iron them out when he got back home later.

“Sorry, I got a little heated there.” He shook his head as he twisted to face him. While he did appear to be a bit calmer for the action there was still the faintest lines of a scowl that tugged at the corners of his mouth. As a whole, he seemed troubled. “But still, my point stands. While it could be whatever’s making him sick right now egging it on, I genuinely don’t think it would be in his good interest for us to just dump him at a hospital right now, at least not one run by his father at any rate.”

“...S-So what do we do?” Mizuiro did have a point after all, they couldn’t just leave him there to suffer like that. (Well, actually, they could but that would be kind of a shitty thing to do, wouldn’t it? What if he died or something because they left him alone? He definitely did not sign up to become a murderer of all things, no siree. Because when the cops eventually came around to investigate things then them just being there right now would lead to some uncomfortable questions which it would then go straight to them getting implicated for something or another because that’s just how authority figures were. He was too young to go to prison! Hell, he still cried at the end of Phoenix Ranger Featherman Classic when everyone finally put aside their differences to bring about world peace through the power of friendship! And that wasn’t even getting into whatever weird beef Kojima had with Ishida’s Old Man. Argh, he just wanted to get out of doing cleaning duty for the day, not be faced with drama and life or death decisions!) The usually bouncy teen’s eyes flitted between his friends with a ever-growing desperation, having felt as though he was completely out of his depth here. “We have to do something, guys.”

Tatsuki, as per usual, ignored the fretting teen in favour of leveling her attention on the last conscious resident of the room. She seemed stare at him for a long moment, long enough to make any weaker willed person squirm. However, Mizuiro Kojima was no such individual. He met her gaze, dark eyes clear yet unyielding. It was Arisawa who broke first, her brown eyes glancing away and then over to the fallen teen. Dark brows furrowed until she finally turned away from this as well, her lips pulled back into a heavy grimace. “...Alright. Fine.”

“‘Fine’?” Mizuiro raised a brow.

“You win. We won’t take him to a fucking hospital.” She spat as she raked a hand through her short spikes. Hard set to her jaw, a rush of air escaped her as she shoved herself up to her feet. “But Asano also has point. I’m not leaving him like this.”

“She’s actually agreeing with me?” He muttered under his breath somewhat disbelievingly before being startled by the sudden movement. “Huh? Wait, where are you going?” Keigo called as she moved towards the kitchen partition, personal cell phone already out of pocket and in hand.

“I’m gonna go make a call. So pipe down so I can hear the dang thing–”

“Okay, no need to shout–”

“Don’t worry, Uryū. Everything’s going to be alright.”

“Hello? Yes, we’re kind of in a bit of a situation...”

“So you just try to get some rest now, okay?”

“No, please, listen Mr. K-”

“We’ll take care of it, I promise–”

<{-----+}

(And then it was dark. The twinned consciousness finally faded from the forefront; soul fragments curled tightly into one another as they drifted along the stormy ocean of liquid pitch. Their entirety ebbed and flowed with the steady rhythm of make-unmake-remake as their patchworked being slowly remolded itself into something that truly should not have been yet somehow inexplicably was and a delicate equilibrium was met. Upon finally having spent those additional energy reserves they sank deeper into the realm of dreamless sleep; yet even so this unique rest was not a wholly peaceful one. There were brief moments where awareness bubbled up, reaching out but not quite touching the surface, allowing for snippets of lucidity as their body slept on.)

{+-----}>

(“I’m so sorry for calling you out of the blue like this and at such a late hour too but we couldn’t think of who else to turn to.”

A presence slowly drifted through the endless mire.

“Well, it’s a good thing you kids called me when you did–”

Twisting and turning.

Rising and falling.

Life and Death .

Over and over and over again the display repeated so on and so forth until eventually with nowhere else to go it turned in on itself in an endless array of spiritual fractals. Awareness came and went with the tide, the stolen snippets nothing more than static nonsense.

“█████!”

“█████?”

“█████...?!”

A messy tangle of fizzy yellow passed it to a worried forest gale and then to an absolutely frigid lakewater then back to the first one and so on the pattern repeated itself, occasionally tossing another burst of noise into the mix until the soothing aura of a smouldering flame— not quite the raging bonfire it could be if properly given time — cut through.

“Yes, you ███ can run along now. I’ve got your friend ██████ all settled. He’s in ████ █████. So let me ███ ██ ████, okay?”

So f a m i l i a r. . .

“You’ve got good ███████, you know that? Didn’t ████ want to leave ███ for a ██████.” A self-depreciating chuckle, one that felt like the crackle of embers cloaked in cigarette smoke “They’re good kids. But...” A smile dropped.

He knew this person.

“I’m ██████ this is a ███ out of their ██████████.” The rare seriousness was a jarring contrast to his usual behaviour. It was easy to forget how good of an actor he was. It ran in the family.

...Who?

“What a mess. It’s a ████ ████ thing that I ███ ██ home visits, ███ know that? I’m █████████ that ███ even managed to ████ ██ this long in the state ██████ in. I guess that █████████ stubbornness must be ████ ███ something, huh? You ██████ ██████ are something else.” A hand that should’ve been warmer ran through disheveled locks, its owner letting out quiet hiss before the limb retracted. “████ weren’t ███████, ██████ burning ██. Damn, ████████ gonna have ██ ███ ███ ████ if you don’t—”

—And then everything was cast drift once again.)

“What am I gonna do with you kid?”

It was time once more for the void’s shadowy hold to lighten and almost immediately he cast out his nebulous senses in search of that familiar rain-soaked maelstrom that both was and was not part of him. He relaxed somewhat, able to tell that the other was still caught Hypnos’s grasp. To continue on with that comparison did that mean that he, on the other hand, was more suited for the position of Thanatos in this situation? He allowed the vague amusement to flow through him as he curled around the other in a lazy embrace.

A shaky awareness slowly trickled outward, allowing for him to distinguish that curious warm presence hovering somewhere off to the side of the body. However, with that gesture a sliver of reality bled in and he could feel an involuntary shiver as the prickle of cold air hit bare skin. The sound of someone clucking their tongue and that warm flame drew closer, and he could feel the chill fade away. Replaced with the soft comfort of what could only be a blanket.

“████ ██ ████ ███.” The outside presence said something else but seeing as reality was currently as flaky as a distant oasis mirage it was practically gibberish to his ears. That –along with the garishly vibrant yet hazy body that periodically swam into view every time the world seemed to blink— it was hard to say if what he was experiencing now was nothing more than the continued offshoot of a particularly vivid fever dream or not. This assumption was not helped when the other being, who turned to face him for some reason or another, had spotted a single bleary eye squinting from across the distance and had taken that as a license to explode into a whirlwind of chattering noise and activity.

Well, dream or not, it sure as hell was annoying enough to made him want to bury his head under a pile of pillows and snap for the moron to just stay still and shut up, damn it.

“...?”

...And he must’ve said something to that effect out loud if the way the other had paused, having been caught off guard by the garbled outburst, was any indication.

Oops.

Another blink and their mouth was moving again but still not quite reaching through to him. Huh, maybe if he had a bit more of a presence of mind this fact would bother him but as it stood, he couldn’t help but instead wonder. ‘Who the fuck is this anyway?’

His spinning mind wracked itself trying to place where he knew that presence from despite the thoughts slipping through his fingers as if they were leftover grains of sand from their last trip to the Land of Endless Night. Why was it so familiar?

(Of course it was familiar. That was his–)

“Dad?”

(Did he accidentally get a concussion and stumble into the clinic hospital again? His Dad Grandfather would chide him for getting into a fight again even though it usually wasn’t his fault people were assholes and tried to pick fights liked to steal his stuff.

Wait. That didn’t seem...right? What, no, yes it did?

He’d only ever gotten into a street fight once back when he was a little kid when this group of utter twats stole the Little Huntress knit plush that his Grandfather had spent months making for him. He had been so mad that he had subconsciously used a reinforcement technique and, in the process, completely shattered the other kid’s jaw.

Sure, he had gotten the knit plush back but the damage had already been done. It was no time at all before word had gotten around to all of the other kids and their parents about how the ‘weird boy’ who ‘saw things others could not’ had gotten ‘violent’ and sent an ‘innocent’ kid to the hospital. It had taken no small amount of hush money and eventually changing schools entirely before the whole incident eventually was swept under the rug.

But truly, it was the event that directly succeeded it which still bore a stark testament to his memory even after all this time.

It had been the dead of the night and he truly had never been meant to hear any of the hissed words behind that set of closed doors; but because he had thought he’d heard a strange noise earlier, and with the childish worldview that had yet to be tainted with the existence of their cannibalistic counterparts wondered if it had just been one of the friendly local ghosts that had somehow managed to sneak onto their property in search of him and as such went down to see if the wayward spirit needed help.

He hadn’t expected to see the sliver of light filtering out into the hall from his father’s usually locked study. So, filled with all the curiosity of a child his age who couldn’t sleep he had crept up to the crack to check it out.

He had never seen both his Grandfather and Father so upset.

The way the two went at each other backlit by the light of the Hunter’s Moon was a sight to behold. Their weapons for this duel: thunderous expressions and acid laced words undercut by a form of panicked desperation and righteous anger.

He might’ve just been six at the time and not really understood what they were so furious about but judging by the fact that he could catch his name interspersed between that special brand of German that Grandfather spoke he knew enough that whatever it was they were talking about had something to do with him.

And it was terrifying.

Original purpose forgotten, he crept back upstairs and hid himself deep underneath the covers. Little arms wrapped tightly around the plush that started it all, he buried his face into the soft yarn as he tried to forget what he had just saw. Eventually, tiredness won out and he fell asleep to the thought that he never wanted to see another’s person make that sort of face because of him ever again.

Yet he did, only a few years later and continued to do so, with the devastation brought about by his own hand.

Wait. Something about that didn’t feel quite right either, but whatever it was just wasn’t clicking and he couldn’t pin his finger on just why...)

The blurry figure almost seemed disconcerted, “███ █████.”

It feels like he’s forgetting something, perhaps it was related to rising the impression of befuddlement emanating from the living personification of cigarette ash over there and the fuzzy looking frown on his Old Man’s face. He didn’t know why but he didn’t like that look. It just didn’t suit Ol’ Goat-Chin and he as so much said so.

“███ ████! ████ █████ ████, █ █████. ████ █████ ██ ██████ ███ █ ████████ ████████ ██████ ████ ██████ ██ ██ █████████ █████ █ ████ ███████?”

...Well, if there was anything that he could say transcended both space and time it was that the other could certainly be enthusiastic about his reactions. It sure as hell would have been nice if those few snippets of vigorously animated noise made some sort of sense, though. Eh, time to extrapolate and figure out the rest from there!

“I...am not sick. Don't need a doct��r Old Man, I'll be fine." He slurred, thankfully having enough clarity to form most of the words.

This eloquent and well put together response did not inspire the confidence he hoped it would if the loud disbelieving snort were indication. "██ ████? ███ ████ ██ ████ █████ ████?” The other seemed to retort but already he could feel himself slipping again. His eyes slid shut. He...felt like something big was going to happen and...he needed to warn him? But why and what about? Was it about the girls? Oh, wasn’t it around this time there had been a hollow...and something else? But it would be a big risk if they didn’t let him face the others and get strong enough to...do what?

(Who was he fighting back then? Was it a–)

“H’ll’w?”

(No, it was Ywh—)

Wait, who was in control?

Their consciousness was fading and fast but they were still aware enough to see the other man stiffen and that was...very bad. Why, he didn’t know, but he at least knew that the other definitely shouldn’t have been like that so with their last bits of cohesiveness they fought to reassure him. “D’n’t w'rry he’s dead.” Their hand went up grip at their chest, just why was it so hard to breathe? It hurt. But still they forced the words out, “P'rm'se.”

(And then they proceeded to pass out.)

Contrary to the consolatory result he had been aiming for, it seemed as though the display had provided the direct opposite effect for the other man, only giving rise to a number of questions that urgently needed answering and an ever-darkening stain of concern.

He slowly made his way over to the teen and ever so gently pried his fingers away from where they clutched at his chest. He tried not to grimace at the sight even if he did allow himself a low oath uttered under his breath. It wasn’t like the kid could hear it anyway, having once again fallen unconscious, a likely result from how his body was trying to cope with the nightmare that was happening to it.

“...Poor kid.”

The whole thing was starting to look a bit too much like that horrible mess with Masaki and that Hell-Forsaken Hollow all over again. It made his fingers itch for the package of menthols he kept tucked away in a spare pocket, if only to distract himself from the cold knot that made its home in his stomach. For all his vibrancy and self-admitted eccentric worldview, he wasn’t blind, nor had he ever been stupid.

He knew the kid had made it a habit to go out at night to try his hand at hollow hunting, perhaps using the activity as a coping mechanism so that he could come to terms with Sōken’s death, and while truthfully, he could only guess as to what had been going through Ryūken head at the time; whether it be dealing with his own feelings on the matter, or maybe some misbegotten cultural aspect of having to deal with ‘The Pride of a Quincy’ that the other would steadfastly refuse to elaborate on ‘because he was no longer involved with that state of affairs’, or even some other bullshit entirely. Frankly, he didn’t give a damn what the reasoning was. The fact of the matter was that eldest Ishida had let him go about doing all of it alone.

Damn it, back when he still was a part of the active service there was a popular saying among the members of the 10th Division. If memory served him well, it was:

‘A lone wolf is nothing more a dead dog.’

It meant that there was a reason why you didn’t let a fresh from the academy recruit runaround on their own without some form of supervision (usually in the form of a higher ranked squad member that could serve as back up should the need arise) for their first few missions. Not everyone was able to handle the stress of a battlefield where emotions regularly ran high and sorry bastards would pounce on any weakness that you so much as dared to show, after all. And he had seen more than his fair share of good men lose their lives because of things like this.

Hell, even with years of the patented ‘Shiba Subtle Situational Awareness & Athletics Training’ under his belt he wouldn’t have let his own son go galivanting after the damned things if it hadn’t been for Kisuke’s silver tongue and the Kuchiki girl’s presence acting as a sort of makeshift mentorship born out of sheer necessity.

(Feelings on the matter be damned, he knew –even if he didn’t necessarily agree— that it was the only way that his boy could even have a chance at standing against the things that were to come. The only way for him to live up to the name he had been blessed with and be able to shatter the plans of those who would wish to inflict a fate worse than death upon him for the simple crime of existing as something beyond their understanding as he and his sisters did.

But he still couldn’t help but wonder sometimes; that if things had been different would none of them have needed to have faced such things to start with? That he and the girls would have, if not a normal life, then at least one that still would have had their mother in it?

But there was no use dwelling on a world that never was and never could be when one had to keep their sight on the present, anyhow.)

He knew he was a hypocrite, but damn it if he couldn’t still get pissed off when he saw a child basically throwing himself to the wolves.

‘And look where this mess has gotten us Ryūken. Where it’s gotten our boys.’

With his power drained down to the barest dregs as it was, he still would’ve had to have been utterly blind to miss the strong haze of hollow-tainted reiatsu on the child. A grimace deepened as he busied himself with refilling the water basin and then moved on to examining the makeshift cooling towel set across the teen’s brown. He had to commend the dark-haired lad’s (Kojima, he believed, was what the brunet had called him) insistence on fussing about with the thing before he shooed them off, a thoughtful stopgap measure set about in the slim hope that it might make things a bit easier for his friend, even if it was purely palliative at this point.

Taking note of the way sweat gathered at his brow and the tachypneic breaths, followed by a quick check of the pulse that revealed an equally racing heart –likely straining to filter the toxins out of his body and soul— this accompanied with what he’d witnessed during the young man’s brief periods of rousing it was right of them to be concerned.

His own professional (and totally not biased at all) verdict on the matter was—

Well...

Let’s just say it really was a good thing that the boy was out of it as to be spared the worst of things.

Up close like this, it was easy to see Ryūken’s features in the boy even without the mop of white hair on his head (that Ryūken insisted was his natural colour and most certainly not bleached, but Isshin had seen all the hair care products the man had in his bathroom, there was no way) but with this proximity it was also not that hard for him to imagine by some unlucky roll of the dice Ichigo in this position and with the uncertainty of the future such a thing wasn’t entirely out of the cards.

That the thought of something like the bastard from that time or possibly (nay, likely) worse going after these literal children (his own flesh and blood turned conscripted soldiers forced to play to the tune of people centuries older than them) made that familiar churn in his gut and once more his fingers itched desperately for a cigarette to take the edge off.

He instead toyed with the frayed lining of his coat sleeve, the patch of cloth already long since rubbed thin.

‘Even in his hour of need the kid still had his dad on his mind.’ He mused, absently brushing back a sweat-drenched lock of hair from the boy’s brow. Like this, you wouldn’t even be able guess the boy had been deliriously seeking out the comfort of a parental figure not moments before. ‘He still thought of you, Ryūken.’ Then his thoughts took a darker tint, ‘But would you have even cared?’

At least Ichigo had some others to stand with him if things went south, those who had at least some idea of the rather unique problems he had to deal with. But what this child have? An emotionally constipated father and a smaller, yet no less significant, spiritually charged target painted on his back? ‘Pride of the Quincy’ indeed.

And then he winced, immediately chastising himself for the line of thought. That was being a bit unfair, wasn’t it? He wondered what his dear Masaki would have to say if she heard any of this. A wry smirk, ‘It’d probably end up with a well-deserved smack to the head for the both of us for being morons; followed by an hour long chewing out session that would cow even the most stalwart of men.’

He shook his head to dismiss the thought, his gaze traveling up and out to the decently-sized balcony just beyond his reach. The trails of light streaming through sliding glass painted the small room in the colours of the setting sun. ‘Geez,’ He sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. ‘I’m not usually this gloomy. Must be because it’s almost that time of year again.’ And with that what little bit of levity he had managed to scrounge up had faded, allowing his thoughts to spiral back to the same bleak spot that was now their home.

That spot also known as his current patient: Uryū Ishida.

Right, what to do...

...Fuck he missed his wife; she’d know how to deal with this better than he ever could. If this was just some sort of normal illness or a trauma case then he would have been able to handle it no problem. Hell, even if the worst came to pass and he somehow managed to make the transition to soul form then at least he’d have some idea of what to do. But this? He wasn’t equipped for any of this mess right now.

...But maybe there was someone who was?

“Kisuke would have some idea of what to do about this.”

(That...and well, he couldn’t leave his ‘new son’ to suffer now, could he? Heh, he could just see Ryūken’s face when he told him. If anything, it would make a great memory to look back on while he was running for his life from the other’s arrows.) He glanced back at the other’s prone form and while he knew full well that the other didn’t seem to be processing things by anything other than a base level at the moment he felt the need to reassure him for his own peace of mind at the very least.

“I’m just going to step out for a second, there’s someone who might be better equipped to handle your condition. Just hunker down and hold tight okay kid?” He gave Uryū a brief pat on the shoulder –trying not to wince at the sharp crackle of errant spiritual energy that made his hair stand on end— and strode towards the small apartment’s front door.

<{-----+}

(The comforting feeling of cigarette-&-embers moving away as the man left to go somewhere else. A patchwork quilt of sightsoundhisnothis as the world blinked by in a series of snapshots going back and forth. The acid-fire of pins and needles and an ill-fitting skin being pricked like a pincushion. A flawed restructuring of self; error...action rendered incomplete, energy going into stabilization. Awaiting further instructions. A Whole-and-Fragments with overlap grating painfully against one another. A lantern spark of a familiar yet not Soul forcing a hard reset; new patterns found, translation successful, installing █̵̨̝͈̍█̶̢̛̼̼̥̩̈́̄̑̀̈́͜█̴̖̱̍̋͗█̷̪̒̄ͅ█̸̧̛̠̞͙͍͊͆͂͑̀█̴̧̜̺͈͕̓̑ͅ█̵͚͙̏͂͐̑̋ ̵̝̽̿̿̈͒█̶̯̼̣̟̏̐̈͂█̷͍̣̜͉̩͔͐̐█̸̢̛̬͉̰̈́̅█̷̡̲͐̏̉█̷̨̰͇͙̹̟̎̀̔̕█̷̰̎̒̓̕͝͠█̶̭̩̻͉̾█̵̳͌̽̋́̓̀█̴͇͙͂̊͋̎͝ ̵̢̠̱̓͆͐█̸̳̻̒͜█̴͕̥̫̽͊͠͝█̴̤̐͂͒͂̈́̕█̵̠̀̇͝█̵̢̳͙͓̟͑̃̅͠█̶̯͍͎̥̱̍͂͠█̷̧̹͈͉͐͝͝. A new equilibrium reached and becoming whole. Purpose fulfilled, pieces falling into place and a final dissipation...A dearth of energy and thus sinking deeper and deeper into the dark of sleep—)

“Kisuke would have some idea of what to do about this.”

A twitch.

(The distant sound of a voice low but urgent and the slow rousing of a distant memory. A slightly cracked door and the rising of noise from the source, as if it were someone that was trying to be quiet but had begun to forget themselves in their frustration. It enough to remember something as neurons rubbed together enough to connect that this was something they did not want to happen at any cost. Driven by pure instinct they lurched up, the world spinning at the sudden movement. They couldn’t stay here. They needed to get outside. Pitching forward, the fall was mercifully muffled by the thick fibers of the large area rug. The fading echo of white static as circulation returned to limbs having had long since fallen asleep and the nauseating rush of a world that was blurry and too bright and alive was a strong deterrent but they couldn’t curl up and sleep until the phantom ache of pins and needles faded away along with the rest of their problems like they desperately wanted to. The faint smoke-wrapped ember that filtered in from the cracked door behind him was as comforting as a funeral pyre at the moment and only served to remind them that they needed to move.

He hadn’t noticed them yet, but it was just a matter of time.)

(Could we take him out and make a run for it?)

(No. That would bring pain and death. Can’t get caught. Fate worse than death.)

(But they already ached so much. It was as if a yawning chasm had opened up in their very existence, and to fill that emptiness it needed to consume and consume and consume until there was nothing left. The void where that ocean once stood was so empty and they felt so h u n g r y.)

(They had to find another way. Unbidden, their gaze turned to the balcony and the hazy light of the moon above. The way that it filtered down through the clouds as it cast everything in a soft glow was honestly kind of beautiful. Another stirring of a half-remembered conversation from a world that had been dead twice-over where two overlapping viewpoints met and interlaced; it had been stupid and banal, something to pass the time as they raced across endless monochrome sands and keep himself from going nuts from the lack of visual stimuli and had startled an undignified snort out of his mouth but one thing that remained the same was that large unreachable light overhead.

The reverie was shattered when the voice in the hallway went silent for a bit too long. The lack of sound causing their hackles to rise in warning. Shit, he couldn’t be wasting time like this, they had to get out of there! But how? And yet despite it all that moon still loomed on the horizon.

...They had an idea.

There was no time to think, the quiet patter of footsteps and the desperation of the void spurred them on. They lifted a hand to the dark world behind the glass, fingers that were already far too pale clawing forward; their owner driven by some inbuilt instinct as they tried to grasp something far beyond mortal reach.

And then they grabbed it and tore the world asunder.

The body moved, jerking up and through the gaping maw without a second thought. Having served its purpose, the crack stitched itself back together, allowing reality to reseal behind it as if the aberration had never been there to begin with.

And then there were none.)

Ichigo (Who Is Currently Possessing Uryū): -Calls Isshin "Dad"- Isshin: -With joint custody and adoption papers at the ready- Congratulations and welcome to the family New Son. You have gained +1 dad. There is no escape. Also Uryū: Now it is imperative that we blend in to this world as not to give cause for alarm to the local populace and ruin our plans. -Acts sketchy af and passes out two seconds after meeting that world's version of his friends- ... Uryū:...Nailed it. (Fun fact: That plush dubbed “The Huntress” was one of the first that Uryū ever had made for him and it was based off of a mix of traditional Quincy stories that his Grandfather told him and tales about his adoptive daughter in her youth Masaki. Not that he knew it was her specifically until much later. Ichigo had a matching “The Hunter” one that vaguely resembled Ryūken that Isshin managed to “lose in the wash” when his wife and son were out grocery shopping one day. He had to sleep on the couch for a week for that one.)

#DS7's Log #[That Which Protects The Fallen Rain]#-carefully adds to the archive-#Bleach Fanfiction #Ichigo Kurosaki #Uryu Ishida #Keigo Asano #Tatsuki Arisawa #Mizuiro Kojima #Isshin Kurosaki #I TOLD YOU I'D FINISH IT #HA BOOYA FUCKERS #In other news #I fucking hate coding on this site now #This thing was cursed whenever I tried to edit colours the fucking formatting would break and I kind of wanted to cry.#Also this is a Persona 2/SMT crossover too now for some reason.#Idk it just happened.

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keigo-chan · 1 year ago

Text

I Don’t Know Where To Put My Hands

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Keigo comes home, just for a bit, in the middle of spying on the League of Villains. He needs you, he needs this. And you love him. What else is there to say?

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings/Tags: Pro Hero!Reader, No Gendered Pronouns for Reader, Reader Has a Vagina, Extremely Dubious Consent, Unhealthy but Loving Relationships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Emotional Masochism, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injury from Sex, Fluff but Evil

FULL TAGS/NOTES ON AO3

Communication from Keigo had all but disappeared after the battle in Kamino. He didn’t even text anymore. He certainly didn’t call. He didn’t even send mail, or notes, or anything. Civilians spotted him, even around the very city they lived in, as the tags you had alerts on for notified you, but he didn’t make any effort to contact you.

You tried to be calm about this. He was still alive. That’s what mattered. If he wasn’t trying to talk to you, it was because he couldn’t.

But that was a scary thought, too.

You thought about asking the Commission for a short leave. It was the Holiday season, so many other heroes were beginning to stagger out their own leaves. But that only made you more hesitant to do so in turn. Your agency- Hawks’s agency- was always close to reaching ‘understaffed’ numbers. You wanted to be there to help fill in the gaps. Especially with the biggest gap right at the helm of the agency. What was important these days, as the voice in your mind that sounded a lot like Keigo reminded you, was how the public saw the heroes. The best thing they could do was bring hope- so you kept busy making public appearances, trying to just keep up with him.

When you finally got home at the end of that week, the end of your set of patrols, you were exhausted. You were distracted by your phone when you unlocked your door and went in. You tripped over the threshold of it, barely catching yourself with your wings. You looked back at your stoop for what had made you fall, and saw a red book waiting for you.

Attached was a note. “From: K”.

Your heart dropped. You lunged for the book at once, picking it up and flipping through it. Just like you suspected, there were many highlighted portions.

You and Keigo had been working side-by-side for years, and though actual partners for longer, you knew a couple of the more intimate details of what the Commission dragged Keigo through. You’d known for a long time that skills associated with espionage would be necessary. The two of you had made up your own.

You flipped through the book, barely registering what it was even about, as you hurried to shut the door and locked all the locks behind you. You fluttered about quickly, drawing the curtains and blinds while opening the book with one arm. There was nothing else written not in code. You settled in on the couch and began to decipher.

You used a cipher, always based off of a word or phrase or date only you would know. The cipher that worked would correlate to the level of danger they were in or amount of secrecy they needed. You worked your way up three levels, to the day of your anniversary.

‘Being watched by LOV.’ Reading that alone had made the ever growing anxiety worse. Is that what he was doing? Something involving the League of Villains? ‘No big danger now. Keep ear to ground. Lay low. Attack in four months. Hope to come home for New Years. Miss you. Love you. Be safe. Keigo.’

You sighed out a long breath you didn’t know you were holding, shutting the book and resting your forehead against it. He’d held this book, had written in it with care. You wished he had left anything else, though the messy handwriting on his note was nice.

All of the feathers you’d had from him had faded, gone a very dark, dull red- a sign that they had died. Keigo no longer had control over them, and could no longer hear or feel through them.

If they were going to attack in four months, did that mean that he would be away until then?

You tried to clear the thought from your head. He was on a mission. Clearly one that even he took seriously. For now, you needed to take over as the cool-headed hero that everyone wanted. For now, you needed to take care of the Agency. Keigo’s image as a hero didn’t need to suffer, even if he was away.

You could do this. You would wait for the next couple of weeks, until you might be able to see him again. Keigo wouldn’t have mentioned it if he wasn’t decently sure that he’d be able to come back.

He’d be alright on his own. He’d be alright on his own. You set the kettle on to boil and made his favorite tea. It gave you an idea.

Over the next couple of weeks, you left things out for him. Boxes outside with small notes, assurances left in code. Sweaters and smooth pebbles and old trinkets they’d collected over the years, so that wherever he laid his head to rest, it would feel a little more like home.

He took them. Sometimes it was overnight, sometimes days or a week went by without them being taken. But he always did, and he always left something in return. A shiny, pink shell. One of his feathers. One of the silver rings he always wore, too big to fit anywhere but your thumb. You took to wearing it around at once, rubbing it when you were nervous or overwhelmed, thinking of him, thinking of his hands.

New Years came limping around the corner. You sent everyone in the agency home with warm smiles and their much-desired bonuses. You went back to your own home alone, shuddering under your coat. The Christmas tree had already been put away- because it had never gone up. You and Keigo always took it out together, decorated it together.

You hadn’t spent a Christmas without Keigo before since you’d met him. Even before you were dating, when the two of you found out you had no one else to spend it with, the agreement to visit each other came almost immediately. That very first time, you’d waited to put up the tree until that very day, and you hadn’t managed to finish decorating until he’d gotten there. You were ashamed- but he was just excited. He asked you, stars in his eyes, if he could help. He confessed, words rushed and still half-flying, that he’d never gotten to before. You didn’t ask and he didn’t offer. You handed him a box of mismatched ornaments gladly.

That night, you’d sat around the tree, the sight of threadbare branches and two gifts perhaps looking pitiful to anyone else, but there were lights. Keigo had gone and gotten lights mid-way through, saying he’d been struck by inspiration, and he hadn’t come back for quite a bit since most of the stores were closed, but they were beautiful. You’d turned the rest of the lights in the house off and just basked in the warm glow of them. They reminded you of Keigo’s eyes, a bit. That was the first time you’d rested your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his wing around you.

You couldn’t help but be upset that he hadn’t even mentioned Christmas, much less apologized for missing it, even if it felt a little childish. You felt homesick more often than not. All you wanted to do these days was lie in bed, lounging around in his baggy clothes, twirling dead feathers between your fingers.

You left him a gift before Christmas. When you saw that he still hadn’t picked it up the next day, all you could do was sigh. By the time New Years came around, the gift remained by your doorstep. You began leaving less and less, just to stop crossing that threshold.

You baked cookies that night. You lit candles and dimmed the lights and listened out for sparkles and fireworks all over. You’d started hating fireworks when you started dating Keigo. He’d made a joke once about having to fly through them and it made you sick to your stomach just thinking about it. He was as flammable as a bundle of dry straw. The heater was on, but you still wore one of his old, tacky Christmas sweaters around. You popped open a bottle of Champagne and poured yourself a glass.

You had a bad feeling, but you pretended like you didn’t. You glanced at the clock. Keigo wouldn’t have given you false hope- no matter how optimistic he was. But eventually, the clock struck eleven, and you were two glasses of champagne and batches of cookies in, and there was no sign of him.

You groaned when you finally heard the clock mark the hour, resting your forehead on the cold of the kitchen table.

Why were you so miserable without him? You obviously could never know, but you were willing to bet money on the idea that Keigo was not nearly as shaken up about it when he was away. In fact, the more dangerous a task he was about to embark on, the happier he seemed to send you away. A familiar coil of bitterness rose up in you. After all this time, he didn’t trust you. He didn’t think you could hold your own, not next to him.

But maybe he’s right, You mused, munching miserably on your cookie. After all, he goes away and I spend all my time sick and moping and thinking about him. God, I really am useless.

Maybe you should get a cat. Keigo was never their biggest fan, and they didn’t do well around his wings, but you really wanted one for times like these. And if he was going to spend this much time away from now on, what did it matter?

You were idly scrubbing a dish when the clock went off at midnight. Screams erupted from every direction around you, the sound of illegal fireworks, the cheers of loved ones celebrating with one another.

Honestly, you thought you’d be more sad, and angry, and disappointed. But you weren’t. The hour passed and it was the next year and Keigo wasn’t there to celebrate- like he always was- even though he said he’d try to make it and it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as Christmas. There was no one to call, no one to text. You finished washing the dish and downed the last of your glass, before pouring yourself another.

You settled onto the couch. You weren’t ready for bed yet, not with the sounds outside. You scrolled through a million shows and movies before settling on one you’d seen a million times, like white noise. It was past one am, and you had finished up your millionth game of Sudoku when you heard someone at the door.

Fear rang through you, at first. You were alone, you were tipsy, and your hero brain whispered that nobody would hear your screams with the din of New Years around you. You jumped to your feet the best you could, setting aside your glass and phone at once, preparing to defend yourself when you heard keys turn the lock.

It was Keigo. Of course, of course, it was just Keigo.

All of the resentment, all of the bitterness, all of the anger you told yourself you’d take out on him softened at once when you caught sight of him. Not only because he looked more tired than you’d seen him in a long time- with uncharacteristic bags under his weary eyes, slumped shoulders, and wings noticeably smaller than usual- but just because…

Because it was Keigo. Because, miraculously, he looked like he needed you more than you needed him.

“You’re awake.” He sounded surprised. He didn’t look it. Maybe he was too tired to even look surprised. He locked the door behind him, but didn’t move from across the room.

”I was-” You words caught around the lie. “I was waiting for you.” But he beamed, and you were glad you hadn’t told him the truth. Oh, Keigo. Always the optimist.

“I’m home now.”

“Yeah,” you walked to him, pace increasing with every step, until you were flinging yourself into his arms. Keigo, for his part, was more than ready. He caught you easily, and no more conversation was needed. When you kissed him, his face and nose and mouth were all cold, and he held you like a dying ember. The way you fell into each other reminded you of the moment you’d managed to catch him after the battle in Kamino, behind the alley, a moment you had been unable to stop yourself from replaying and replaying and replaying.

There was no thinking to be done while you were kissing, your mouths opened immediately for each other’s. You wrapped your legs and arms around him, indulging both of you in the kiss. He turned the two of you, pressing you flat against the wall. His kisses fell against your chin and neck, and then all at once-

“Keigo!” You gasped, which was the only thing saving it from being a scream as Keigo sucked at the skin on your neck hard. You squirmed, thrashed really, in his arms, trying to push him away, but it was fruitless. “What are you- Keigo, oh my God-” Your voice was just a whimper by the end as he barely even reacted to you. “W- wait, you can’t-”

The Commission had strict rules involving appearance. Some were obvious: no alterations may be made to the uniform without going through one of their designers, heroes must appear at the scene relatively kempt (unless coming from another battle), tears or rips must be mended by next appearance. But there were other, unwritten rules, pertaining to the professionalism of the costume. No hero could be caught drinking or smoking in their uniform. No hero should be seen doing non-heroic activities in their uniform. And, of course, famously, hickeys were not allowed to be showing while they were in uniform.

Everyone claimed to have a friend of a friend who had gotten in trouble for it, to the point that it was just something heroes knew to avoid while participating in… more illicit activities. But it had happened closer than that to the two of you. In fact, Keigo had once gotten in massive trouble when the Commission caught him with a hickey that you had given him. It was (mostly) an accident, and they hadn’t suspected where it actually came from, but he was put on night patrol with no breaks for the next couple of weeks.

You were extremely apologetic, but not enough to accompany him out all of those times.

Ever since then, you were both careful about it. After all, they really didn’t need the scrutiny that the Commission was trying to protect them from in a roundabout way. Not only would Hawks’s fangirls go ballistic if they thought he was actually seeing someone, but it would invite people to speculate on who. And nothing good would come of that.

This was to say, it wouldn’t be good if either of you showed up to your job with a lovebite visible on your necks, and concealer could only last for so long in a job like yours. The two of you whined and bitched about it, but for the most part, you reserved your marking for things below the collar, even if the ‘claiming’ of it all was half the fun.

Until tonight, apparently. Keigo was still sucking and biting at your neck like a man starved. “Sorry- sorry,” It sounded genuine, he sounded almost hurt him, but he didn’t stop. “Need- Need something permanent- need it to last-”

And it did hurt. You weren’t prepared for the sharp heat of it- but it was good. It was so good, Keigo’s lips wrapped around such a sensitive part of you, making you feel a mind-numbing pain derived intimately from his own mouth, his face buried into your neck, while he was holding you close together. And he was marking you. He was marking you and everyone would know you belonged to someone and entirely irrationally, for a split second, you hoped they would know it was Keigo.

He growled and pressed open-mouthed, sloppy kisses to your neck, before licking a stripe up your throat and swirling his tongue over what must have been the forming bruise. your head was going fuzzy from the abuse of your neck. You barely recognized the usual care he treated you with, even in their most morally bankrupt moments of fornication. Instead, he bit down on another part of your neck and started the process again.

You threw your head back and gave in, moaning and bucking your hips against him. This only seemed to egg him on, as his kisses grew more frantic and messy, and a heavy sort of note joined his panting, like he was moaning with every breath.

Your neck was starting to feel wet at this point, but you didn’t care. You could feel every move he made down to your pussy, and it was leaving no room for anything to go to your brain.

Several marks later, Keigo finally seemed to remember that there were possibly other ways that he could have you- though he didn’t give you any warning of this thought at all before he pulled you away from the wall and fell to his knees. This would have been alright, hot even, if you weren’t still attached to him. You yelped as they dropped, performing a clumsy combination of your arms flailing and still clinging to Keigo as he went down.

But you didn’t collide with the floor, you were simply on his lap now, nails digging into his clothes and back. He took the second of your confusion to tear off his work jacket and reveal the compression shirt underneath. You dearly loved the eyeful of his lithe muscles you got through the tight fabric. You ran your hands over his chest and shoulders appreciatively.

”You know, you could have given me a heads up,” You meant to scold him, but it came out more as a sort of pout. But Keigo didn’t laugh like he usually would have, didn’t even smile. He sort of frowned distantly as you spoke, staring only at your lips. “Keigo?” You brushed a lock of flaxen hair behind his ear. “Are you oka-”

”No,” He shook his head, his voice thick with something you couldn’t name. He took an unsteady breath and shook his head, looking somewhere just past you. “N- no, I’m-” The glint in his eyes wasn’t right. You were contemplating it when he sprang back into action. He lunged, pinning you under him on the floor, but his arms had broken the worst of your fall. Still, you cried out in surprise, Your world suddenly in an entirely different orientation. Keigo licked and nibbled at your ear as he pulled off your- his- sweater roughly, the friction of it burning for a second. He tossed it aside carelessly before returning to his position right on top of you. His hands squeezed and groped at your chest painfully- and not in a good way.

Your head spun. What was going on? This was nothing like Keigo. Even when he was rough, it was usually only because you had asked for it, or confirmed it was what you wanted at least once. Every once in a while, you even had to egg him on. But this- this felt careless and crude, bouncing between the two extremes of him being too intense and not there with you at all.

“Ow,” You hissed, but it was really more of a whisper. You were almost afraid to snap him out of the trance, even as he bruised you in places you weren’t accustomed to. “Ow-”

”Please,” He whined. His mouth was against your chest, he had begun to work his way down. He sounded… truly pitiful. “Please, I- I need- I can’t-” He sat back up and away from you, running a hand through his hair, only for half of the strands to fall back into place right after. You finally got a good look at him, closer now than across the room. He was frantic, searching. His eyes darted around your face wildly, but he didn’t seem to find what he was looking for. “Please.” He slumped down again on top of you like his strings had been cut, all at once, landing hard onto you.

“Are you on something?” You wondered aloud. “It’s- it’s fine if you are, but you should tell me, Kei-chan-”

”No, no.” He shook his head frantically. “No, I swear, I just-” He tugged at your pants. His eyes grew pleading, beseeching. “Please-”

This wasn’t how you pictured their reunion. But he was looking at you with those desperate eyes, and you could only ever be the personyou were.

Keigo was hurting. You could help him. As always, you could do your service by helping him, by being at his side.

You didn’t speak. You just nodded. Keigo breathed out what could only be a sigh of relief and tore your pants off. You were wet, your moments of hesitation unable to strip that awaym especially not when Keigo spread your legs and dipped his fingers into the place that you had wanted him for weeks. Thankfully, he didn’t finger you. You shuddered a bit to think of what his thick, rough fingers would have felt like inside you in this state. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your knee and then tapped you gently on the ass. ”Flip over.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice.you turned and assumed your position, ass in the air and face against your arms on the floor. There was a second where it was just ou, in the dark, your face warm with your breaths and the sound filling your ears. Maybe- maybe it would be easier this way, unable to see his face.

There was no preamble before Keigo slammed in.

”Oh my GOD!” You shrieked, nails digging into the hardwood floor in front of you and leaving gouge marks in their wake. “Oh my fucking God,” He took you with a speed and strength that truly belonged on a battle field. Every other stroke or so hit your cervix, entirely bottomed you out with that thick cock of his, a Russian roulette of pain that entirely cleared your mind.

”Fuck,” He cursed. He gripped your hips brutally, but you didn’t even feel it over the flood of sensation below it. He pulled you back and forth against him like you were an to for him to use, something small and thoughtless he could move as he pleased. “Fuck, yes,” He hissed through his teeth sharply. “Holy fuck, you take it so good, look at you- taking my cock so fucking good.” He babbled.

”Please,” You choked out, eyes rolling back so faryou couldn’t see anything other than stars. “P- please,” A broken gasp wracked through your chest like a sob. In fact, you rather thought you were sobbing. Your fingers and hands jumped and convulsed, just trying to hold on, to regain any sort of footing as he fucked you into the floor. you didn’t even know what you were begging for. For him to stop? For more? For him to hold you, just hold you, so you could sit in the silence and look at the Christmas tree?

Your safeword danced on the tip of your tongue. You wished you could say that you hadn’t used it to be a good girlfriend, that you’d suffered through it all silently because it was clear he needed you, that you were kind and benevolent- but the truth was that you simply couldn’t even string enough of a thought together to control your tongue enough to say it.

”Please-” He panted, pleaded, “Baby, say my name-” His voice broke around the syllables. “I- I need to- pl- please, saymyname-”

“Kei- ei- go- oh-” Each sound was broken up by the bounce of you against his cock. You couldn’t speak properly even if you wanted to. You slurred his name, your tongue too heavy in your mouth, too confusing to move properly. “Kei- go!”

“Yes, yes, yes,” He whined, bending over your body. His chest pressed against your back. He was all over you, inside you, above you, all-encompassing. Each thrust sent your body back and forth against the floor, scraping against the skin of your face and arms. Your knees ached from holding yourself up on the hard surface. Your legs trembled, weak with the strength it took to even stay up. “So tight, so fucking tight-”

”Keigo- w- wait, please-“ You gasped out, but the words were unintelligible to even your ears, too breathy and muffled and confused, too pierced through with your moans. Instead, all Keigo heard was ‘please’. The next couple of thrusts were even harder.

Your mind and body couldn’t take it any longer, you tensed, trembled so much your limbs began to hurt, and came so hard you saw white. The scream you let out was guttural, and gave its way into sobs. Your whole body gave out, but unfortunately, Keigo’s grip didn’t relent, he hardly even noticed. “Pleasepleasepleaseplease-”. You keened pitifully. “Keigo-”

His grunts and noises had become animalistic. There were no more words or pleas from him. Instead, he moaned his own release, slamming into you with absolute abandon, finishing inside you by using his body’s weight to pin you all the way to the floor. You were squeezed between the two unrelenting surfaces, as Keigo came as deep as he could possibly go, gravity assisting him in his terrible mission.

Finally, finally, he was still.

He breathed heavily above you as you shook and trembled and just tried to do the monumental task of catching your breath or moving your limbs. Your hands shook so hard it looked like you had tremors when you tried to draw them back into yourself.

Every body part that you could think of ached in one way or another. You tested different parts of yourself, operating them like a puppet who had just gained control of their own body. It was a long while before Keigo let up, long enough that you had almost forgotten it was him on top of you. You lifted your own face from the floor. It was wet. You hadn’t even realized you were crying or drooling. Your hair stuck to your face with tears and sweat. you took a deep, shuddering breath.

Keigo pulled out. You felt his soft cock slip out of you and were astounded that the now-feeble part could have done what it just had. You remained on the floor, little will to move, no capacity to consider what he might think about it.

He laid his hand on your hip. ”Hey, do you wanna-” But you jumped. You hadn’t meant to. But it was a motion so sudden it startled him. He blinked. And it came to him. The scene, the house, his love- it all finally appeared in front of him. “Oh my God-” He breathed, expression stricken and horrified. “Oh my God, baby bird, I- oh my God-” You tried to push yourself off the ground, but your arms gave out underneath you, and it looked downright painful as youfell. Keigo pulled you up at once and flipped you over, as gently, but quickly, as he could.

Keigo hoped, prayed, that it wasn’t as bad as he suddenly remembered it all was-

When you turned, something in the back of your head warned you to school your expression into a more neutral mask, but it was too slow and quiet. But every bit of the shock and confusion you felt must have been evident on your face, because when Keigo turned you around, he shattered.

He dissolved into sobs, curling and melting onto you, into you. It only took a split second before you, too, were crying, until you were both wracked with it, holding each other. Clinging tighter than ever before.

There was nothing else to do.

*****

You woke first the next morning- and you woke in pain. The way your insides ached made you feel like maybe the phrase ‘rearrange their guts’ wasn’t as fun as it was before. You realized, when you went to the bathroom, that you had been bleeding. A wave of sickness. You put on a pad and walked carefully back to bed.

The noise of the bathroom alone had woken Keigo. He locked eyes with you as soon as you came out of the restroom. Your heart sank. You immediately tore your own away. You were really hoping he wouldn’t wake for a while. He sat up as you got into bed, back towards him. Neither of you said anything for a long moment.

You gave in. You flipped over towards him, tossing an arm around his lap, your forehead against his hip. He rubbed a hand down your back, almost on instinct. You hated the way his hand jumped away once he realized what he was doing like nothing you’d ever experienced before.

You gave a gentle demand, ”C’mere.” He obliged at once, shifting down to rest next to you. You were careful not to make eye contact, even as he stared at your face, watching your expressions like- well, like a hawk. You adjusted until you were lying on his chest, arms curled around him. He was sleep-warmed. Comfy. Smelled familiar.

It was still Keigo.

Just Keigo.

Always Keigo.

Only Keigo.

”I’m bleeding.” You said softly, shutting your eyes. You didn’t know why. You didn’t want to guilt him. You didn’t really even want him to know. But you felt like he needed to. Deserved to, even. You listened to the sharp breath he took.

”Fucking shit,” He breathed, and that was it for a moment. You pretended like you couldn’t hear him crying. He pretended like he couldn’t feel you do the same.

”Will you make me some tea?” You asked quietly, when you had both gone still and silent again. Keigo jumped up at once. He was just in his boxers, the ones he had pulled on last night when you had finally gone to bed in a daze.

”Yes. Yeah. Of course.” He nodded, looking grateful for something to do. He hurried off to the kitchen at once. You laid on in warm space he had left on the bed. You tucked yourself in and sniffed the pillow he’d been lying on deeply. It smelled like him- like the man you knew and loved. In the kitchen, pots and pans moved around, water ran, the stove clicked to life.

It wasn’t long before the smell of food filled your nose instead. It smelled like grilled fish and rice. After another couple of minutes, he walked in, holding your favorite mug.

”What kind?” You asked, pointing for him to set it down on the bedside drawer.

”Your favorite.” He didn’t even let you react before he hurried out, “ButIcanmakeyouadifferentone! I just- I thought that I- I guess I could have asked-” He winced at his own words, and you sighed.

”It’s fine, Keigo.” But your voice sounded tired, even to you, and his name rang cold. ”Thank you.” He hesitated. You buried yourself deeper under the covers. You just… didn’t want to hear it right now. Thankfully, whether he got the message or simply couldn’t decide what to say, he walked out of the room once more. After another ten minutes, you finally stood and came to the kitchen, wincing as you did so. He smiled when he caught sight of you, but the worried furrow in his eyebrows didn’t unknot.

”H- Hey, good morning. I made breakfast.” He gestured around at the spread. You eyed it over. “I- um- there’s fish and rice and miso soup and a rolled omelet- I made coffee, too, just in case- or we could- we could always order takeout or-”

”Hey.”you put your mug down on the table and walked towards him. His wings drew up, somewhere between fear and shame. He seemed to balance on a knife’s edge as you stood in front of him. You leaned forward and rested your forehead on his bare chest. “It’s okay.” You said softly, wrapping you arms around him and stroking at his back, between his wings.

Keigo nodded shakily, before finally hugging you back.

”I- I just- I didn’t feel like me when I came in last night,” He babbled against the top of your head, “And I’ve- I’ve felt really lost in the mission, all of my interactions are being watched, I could only step away last night because-” He took a breath. You felt the shudder in his body. He was tense, like he wanted to hold you tighter, but was too afraid to. “I wanted to come back and feel like me, I wanted- I-“ You hushed him. Keigo buried his face deeper into your hair. ”I’m…” Keigo started. You tensed. “I’m so-”

”Don’t.” You snapped.

You had an unspoken agreement- the two of you never apologized. You were almost proud of it, your ability to move on from mistakes and stupid things the other had said. You gave each other space any time you had an argument, and came back with level heads and open arms. This was the first real thing either of you had, they were both bound to make mistakes. You were happy you both knew that, and found something that worked for you guys, even if other people didn’t understand it.

Hearing him almost do so now made your throat tight and eyes burn.

”No, really, what happened last night-”

”Takami Keigo.” You wrenched yourself out of his grip, instead grabbing him by the arms, pinning them to his side. The cruelty in the sneer and look and touch and name shocked him like ice water. “It’s fine. I said yes. I could have used my safe word. I ask you to be rougher all the time. It-“ You cleared your throat. You removed your hands. “It is fine. I need you to drop it.”

Keigo stared, face to face with bared teeth and anger. “Okay.” His voice was just a whisper.

You stared for one last minute before letting go and turning away, back to your tea.you took a long, deep draught, before something caught your eye. He looked where your gaze fell. It was a mirror, in the hall. You touched your neck. “I forgot about those.” You hummed, looking thoughtful. Keigo couldn’t discern anything else from your expression, so he said nothing.

He turned away and grabbed a couple of dishes and began to plate everything up for the two of you. Before you sat down, he grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it under you without a word. For this, at least, you were grateful.

You ate in silence for a while. It wasn’t exactly comfortable. He found it a little hard to look at you, now, close up. He wished he could have been pleased to see you all marked up, but instead, you just looked… bruised. Battered. The way you did after a battle didn’t go your way. There was an exhaustion in your eyes you couldn’t fake and you didn’t bother to hide.

“When are you leaving?” You asked, your voice carefully free of any inflection. He bit his cheek. Usually this question would be asked with the clear wish that it wouldn’t be for as long as possible. But today, he was unsure.

“I was-” Any strength in his voice broke. “I need to leave tonight.” He admitted. You were entirely still for a moment, but just a moment. You resumed eating, without even looking at him the whole time.

“Alright,” Was all you said, soft and small and sad. Your utensils clicked, but otherwise, it was silent.

*****

The first day of the New Year was difficult. For once, you found yourself glad that Keigo was leaving. No matter what you did, you couldn’t get rid of the silent stiffness that permeated all of your interactions. Perhaps the distance would do you good for once.

When night fell, Keigo had to leave. He stood by the door and you came to say your goodbyes. He held his arms out tentatively, and you fell in at once. He squeezed you tightly. You squeezed back.

”How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly. ”…Probably at least another three months.“ Your heart sank. You knew that, but to hear it was another can of worms. “But I will visit before then, I promise.”

”Okay,” Your voice was hollow with unshed tears. As he made to pull away, something desperate in you woke at once, and you held on tighter. “I- I miss you so much when you’re gone.” You rushed out, like he didn’t know that already. “This mission was so sudden, I went from seeing you all the time to not at all, and I don’t know what you’re doing or how dangerous it is, and I don’t even have anyone I can talk to about this because you’re who I talk to about things, please don’t leave me.” Your pathetic plea rang in the air for much longer than was comfortable.

He spoke, “I’ve been seeing you online again.” Picturing him seeing all the embarrassing headlines and memes and photos from your recent appearances made you groan. “You have no idea how proud I am of you, or how much I miss you, too. I’ll tell you all about it the second I can.” He pulled away a bit, cupping your cheek in his large, warm hand, lifting your chin to look at him. “I don’t- I don’t want to do this again, okay?” His gaze was loving, and sincere. You nodded, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks silently. “I don’t like it either, I promise.” He kissed your forehead. “Be brave, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, but the lump in your throat and chest hadn’t gone away. He hugged you again, and you both rocked back and forth and back and forth.

”Hey,” He said seriously. “I love you.”

That was another thing you didn’t say. Or, at least, it was very rare. You really only said it when you didn’t have to actually… say it. You wrote it in notes in code or texts. Occasionally, during a very intimate moment, or if you weren’t sure you were going to see each other again.

You swallowed, wondering which one of these things was true now.

”I love you, too.” He wrapped his wings around you. Their hold was soft and strong, and you felt like you could breathe easier, even if your chest was tighter.

Finally, finally, you pulled away. ”I’ll see you soon.” He promised, and your lips met for one last kiss.

”See you soon.” You repeated throatily. You waved with a miserable little half-smile as he slipped out the door, taking his bright red wings, all the color, and your heart from your world.

When you went out the next day, you remembered Keigo’s present and groaned unhappily, having forgotten to remind him of it- but when you went to check it, you saw that he had taken it, and left something in its stead.

It was a tiny box, covered in shiny, red wrapping paper. You stepped right back inside your place and tore it open, finding a ring box inside the first. Inside was a silver band made of metal feathers widing their way into a ring. Your mouth fell open at that alone, only to realize that there was an extra slit in the box.you checked the larger box it had come in. Inside was two photos- one that must have been of the advertisement, with your ring and a thicker-banded version of it- and the other was one of Keigo.

In the photo, he was somewhere far in the sky during sunset, pink and purple and orange and lovely all around him. He was beaming, always so handsome, but glowing with the halo of the sun and his smile. His wings were a blur behind him, but in front of him, his gloveless hand was fanned out, showing off his own ring from the matching set.

You laughed through tears, sliding the ring onto your finger. It seemed he hadn’t forgotten about Christmas, after all.

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