A/N: Spoilers for (some of) the Quincy Blood War. I wrote this years ago, near the beginning of the Quincy Blood War (Final) Arc. I still haven't finished the manga, so don't spoil it for me, please! This is just how I could see it playing out, from the moment I saw Ishida in that uniform. I always meant to expand this into more scenes and less narrative, but I decided to put it out here in all its rough glory. I hope you enjoy.

At first Kurosaki was just another guy in his class. Rowdy, argumentative, annoying, but forgettable. And then he became a Shinigami, and Uryuu's enemy. And then Uryuu's foolish posturing with the hollow bait backfired, and people almost got hurt, and Kurosaki had to save them all. And then Uryuu had to save Kurosaki, who was too powerful for his own good and too selfless for Uryuu's.

So he just kept trying to save the savior, from Shinigami and Arrancar and himself and humans alike. He always made up a reason, tried to convince himself it was to kill Hollows, to save Rukia, or Orihime, or some other person he'd barely even met. He slipped through loopholes and wriggled under hurdles, defied his father and death itself to guard Kurosaki's back. He lost his powers and gained them back to jump in the fray all over again. And nearly every time, before Kurosaki lost it all, he was there. Ever since he'd shot that arrow full of Kurosaki's reiatsu into the atmosphere, their souls had been connected, but Uryuu made the continual choice to keep them that way.

And then that time with the full-bringers. When he saw Kurosaki standing there looking defeated, the enemy who had cut Uryuu down standing behind him, time had slowed down. He saw the confusion in those amber eyes, the mistrust, but there was nothing he could say that would counter it. As much as his mouth moved, in lectures long and short, as much as his mind worked, analyzing and synthesizing and strategizing until he made himself crazy, the only thing Kurosaki would understand, the only thing the Shinigami-Vizard-whatever-he-was had ever understood, was action. "Kurosaki, come here," he said. And he raised his bow to guard his back.

He'd had no excuse that time. The full-bringers hadn't sided with the Hollows. Their enemy was the Shinigami, same as his. They hadn't kidnaped anyone. Sure, Ginjo had attacked him, but he didn't ambush the bastard, like he could have any time. No, he made sure Kurosaki was safe first, thus proving everything he'd ever said about hating the Shinigami substitute, about them not being friends, to be a lie.

He'd saved a Shinigami substitute from the Shinigami's enemy, who should have been his friend. He'd betrayed his Quincy blood in that moment. And he'd do it again and again and again, because he was Ishida Uryuu and he protected Kurosaki's back, that's what he did.

He didn't go to Hueco Mundo this time. The Hollow could take care of themselves, and there was no real danger to Kurosaki or any of the others. He had his own issues to investigate, because if he wasn't mistaken, he'd felt a Quincy's reiatsu in the atmosphere that very day, and as far as he knew, he was the only one. He found the last surviving members of his clan, he met their founder, and he joined their cause. He didn't necessarily think their plan was the best way to go about their shared goal, but Shinigami were his enemies, and he couldn't let them wipe out his kind in this war, no matter who had started it. The Shinigami had started it a thousand years earlier, anyway.

Then that idiot Shinigami substitute had to join the fight. He had to befriend every damn person he met, couldn't understand why his friends would then fight each other, didn't know what to do when they did. Didn't understand it had nothing to do with him, that the side he'd taken in the past wasn't always the right one. He got in the way.

The Quincy leader told Uryuu to kill him. That one move would assure them a quick victory with minimal casualties on their side.

He approached Kurosaki, they met in mid-air, high above the sky of the Seireitei. Uryuu with his bow drawn, Kurosaki with his zanpaktou at the ready. Their eyes met, blue burning with resolve, surprised to see amber overflowing with resignation.

"I don't blame you," Kurosaki told him. "I get why you're doing what you're doing. But what you don't understand is your side isn't as righteous as you think it is. The leader caused my mother's death when he took her Quincy powers away from her. For his own selfish gain, for nothing but power, Ishida. And he did it to yours, too. He's a monster, and I'm gonna take him down."

Uryuu felt less shocked than relieved upon finding out Kurosaki was half-Quincy. It explained the bond between them, the thrum he'd felt vibrating in the air since the moment they'd met. Blood recognized blood. Blood would tell, every time. Shinigami blood. Quincy blood. Blood shed on the field of battle.

"I never cared much for my mother," he said, honestly. She'd been haughty and selfish, and cared more about his breeding than the person he was. She'd died when he was eight and he still remembered that about her. "My grandfather was the only one in my family I gave a damn about, because he's the only one who ever gave a damn about me."

Kurosaki's eyes bled dark with sorrow. "So that's it then?"

Uryuu didn't answer. He just notched an arrow, no doubt in his mind about what he was going to do.

He watched Soul Society's savior take a battle stance. Uryuu didn't give him time to raise his sword before unleashing a spirit arrow with all his might. It whizzed through the air a centimeter away from Kurosaki's ear and embedded itself into the forehead of the shocked Quincy warrior who'd been a hairsbreadth away from impaling the substitute Shinigami from behind.

"Kurosaki, come here."

The orange-headed teen, who had been gaping at Uryuu's "poor aim," snapped his mouth shut at those words. The idiot still didn't move, though, so Uryuu went to him, gliding on reiki until the two stood back to back.

"So you want to avenge your mother after all," Kurosaki said like he'd known it all along.

"No."

"But you're switching sides anyway?"

"No." He had no intention of helping the Shinigami annihilate his kind.

"Then what the hell are you doing?" Kurosaki demanded, shouting in his frustration.

Ishida adjusted his glasses with his free hand, knowing the resulting glare would hide the look in his eyes. "I'm guarding your back."

It was what he did. What he'd shed blood, guts, and internal organs to do. Blood would always tell. And the blood shed on the battlefield was the thickest of all.