Uryu counted silently under his breath as he continued sewing away the time he had before classes started for the day. It was one of the few pleasures the young Quincy allowed himself and he enjoyed how he could just let his thoughts wander peacefully as his hands went through the practiced motions with ease that came from years of practice. No matter how far his mind wandered, he would rarely make a mistake with his sewing. That was just another reason why he prided himself so much in his sewing ability.
Nearly everything else he did was out of duty or pride. His grades were to prove his father wrong, he could save people and still become successful –not that Ryuuken would ever acknowledge his son's achievements. His Quincy duties, as well, were both a matter of pride and principle. He would be damned if he would sit complacently aside and watched as the Shinigami that were supposed to protect the town failed to complete their jobs. He already watched that once with his grandfather, and he never wished to see it again -be it a ghost or someone still living- he would make sure everyone was safe. That also meant as little contact with other people as he could manage. Getting too close to anyone would risk his reiatsu lingering on them and making them targets for the hollows that constantly wanted him for how unique his reiatsu was. He was the last of his kind ever since Soken passed away. Uryu obstinately refused to ever call his father a Quincy, since he refused to even acknowledge their heritage the young Quincy refused to acknowledge his attachment to it either. He was fully aware that his thought process was rather childish, but he cared little since no one else would know it besides himself.
His stitches faltered at the thought of his grandfather, the last person he remembered ever showing him even a shred of kindness and love, something the young teen had no memory of every receiving from his father, and his memories of his mother were far too faded for him to remember much about her either. He swore mentally as he saw the uneven stitching. He knew not to dwell on the past very much, not unless he wanted his steely façade to fall and leave him defenseless. Just like when Grandfather died… No. He refused to think about that. It had been years since that incident. He should have come to term with it a while ago, but if the bespectacled teen was honest with himself –and he rarely was. He was a terrible liar and he knew it, but that never stopped him from at least trying to fool himself even when he never fully believed his own lies either- he would never be over his grandfather's death, not fully at least. He had come to terms with the fact that his grandfather was gone for good, knowing full well that the likelihood of the hollows not having eaten Soken's soul was slimmer than the chance he had of meeting the Shinigami in charge of the late arrival that cost him the last living person he cared for.
With an irritated shake of his head, Uryu put his sewing down and started putting everything away. It seemed he would get no rest from his demons, not even during his favorite pastime. Letting his mind wander was a mistake, an unfocused mind after all led to unwanted thoughts and unnecessary emotions rearing their ugly heads at the worst times. Silently the teen seethed, pretending his anger was caused by the bumble in his sewing and not the thoughts and images that tried breaking through his carefully constructed walls. He went to great lengths to seem as calm and aloof and distant as possible to keep people from getting too close, for both their sakes. To have someone get close to him get hurt because of him would be a blow to his pride, and he refused to let anyone look at him with pity in their eyes. He hated pity nearly as much as he hated the Shinigami and that was exactly what he knew he would get if he let anyone get close enough to him to learn about his powers –if they even believed him. There was also the chance that they would think he was insane and then he would be no help to anyone locked up in a straight jacket and a padded room.
He gazed out the window in hopes of finding some kind of distraction there, but there was no such luck. For once in his miserable life that loudmouthed Ichigo Kurosaki was not getting himself into any fights. Leave it to that annoying idiot to stay out of trouble the one time the raven-haired teen could use a distraction. Dully, he noted that it looked like it would rain. Just like that day… It was raining then too… No. He was trying not to think like that. He had to remain calm, cool, and collected. That was his mantra at the moment. After all, it would not do for the head of the class to appear to have an emotional breakdown right in the middle of the classroom. From the whispers he heard, the teen knew some of the others had already picked up on his strange behavior.
"Dude, what's got his underwear in a bunch? He looks like he's going to start crying or punch something."
"Maybe he forgot his homework for once? That'd probably be a good reason for a nerd like him to be upset."
"Nah, that brainiac would never of forgotten something like that. 'Sides, if he asked I'm sure the nerd king could get the teacher to let him turn it in tomorrow if he asked. It pays being the teachers' favorite if you know what I mean. What if the stress of being the top student's finally getting to him? School only started, but I bet you he sacrificed having a life for those grades."
"I heard on the news that some people snap from the pressure and end up going on a killing spree."
"Do you really think that Ishida could do something like that? Don't make me laugh! If he ever tried anything we could beat him into the ground before he managed to do anything."
"I don't know man… You ever seen him when we're getting ready for Phys Ed? He may be skinny, but that guy's got a lot of muscle to him. He could probably pack a punch if he got into a fight."
"I'll believe that when I see it."
Forgotten homework indeed… Really, did the rest of the idiots honestly think that he would get upset over something as trivial as forgetting his homework, or that he would simply break under the pressures of school? He had thought higher of his classmates, but perhaps he was wrong. The teen liked to think of himself as an optimistic realist –yet another lie he told himself, he knew he was a pessimist, it was clear as day- but he supposed even he should have limits on his expectations of others. He should really thank them, if only mentally, for getting his head out of his thoughts, but just then he felt the stomach turning pressure of a hollow and heard its ear piercing scream and for once, he was thankful.
With a dark smile so slight you had to be looking for it, Uryu Ishida, the proud last Quincy, got up calmly from his desk, moved out of the classroom, and left to deal with the hollow. This time things would be different. This time, he would be the one putting his life on the line. If he died, unlikely with his training, there would be no one left to mourn after him. No one left to wonder why he had died, or curse the heavens that he had left them alone. If he was lucky, no one would ever really notice that he died in the first place, forgetting he ever even existed. His pride would never let him die at the hands of a hollow, he knew he was far better than that, and unlike his grandfather, he did not have anyone to protect except the public, but that could be done by keeping the hollow away from people and killing it quickly. He was no longer half grown an inexperienced with his bow. Years of solitary training made him excellent at what he did, and what he did was exterminate hollows in the name of his grandfather's memory. In hopes that no one would ever have to feel the way he did.