Characters: Ryuuken, Uryuu
Summary
: Why Ryuuken is disappointed in his son, and why it may not matter in the end.
Pairings
: None
Warnings/Spoilers
: Spoilers for Soul Society and Arrancar arcs
Timeline
: While Ryuuken is training Uryuu.
Author's Note
: Just to warn you, this contains huge speculation on why the Sanrei glove was created; personally, I've always wondered what the hell the Quincy needed with such a destructive tool in the first place, given that, from what we've seen, they're more than capable of taking out regular Hollows by themselves. And, like the last oneshot, this may or may not be a little OOC. I hope you'll enjoy it, regardless.
Disclaimer
: I don't own Bleach.


"Do you even know for what purpose the Sanrei glove was created?"

The training session was over; Ryuuken only ever called an end to it when he could see that Uryuu's reiatsu had been utterly spent, and the boy was on the verge of collapse, fallen back against the wall, though he would most likely never admit it.

Seeing Uryuu's uncomprehending expression, clearly unsure of where Ryuuken was going with this, Ryuuken continued, voice sharp and cold, "I can see that you do not. So you utilized such a thing without even knowing for what reason it was first used?" An accusation was hidden deep in the words, but Uryuu heard it all the same, because his head snapped up.

"How do you—"

Ryuuken glared at him. "Please. There is only one thing capable of sapping your reiatsu in such a way. Your grandfather should never have given it to you." On the same token as knowing that there was only one thing that could have destroyed Uryuu's reiatsu, Ryuuken knew there was only one source from whom Uryuu could have gotten the Sanrei glove in the first place. He couldn't understand how Soken could have been so crazy, or so irresponsible, as to give such a thing to a child.

"Why not?" Now, Ryuuken was finally getting a reaction out of him, as Uryuu's voice ground with poorly hidden animosity. Ryuuken wondered if Uryuu knew of any way but anger to respond to such situations.

Ryuuken let the spirit bow in his hand dissipate, knowing it would go a long way to convincing Uryuu that he wasn't going to attack him at any second. He folded his arms across his chest. "The Sanrei glove first came into use during the war. It—" Ryuuken's glare became even more fierce at this point, though at the same time his voice lowered, deadly calm "—was created solely to allow the wearer to become the equivalent of a suicide bomber."

He knew he had Uryuu's attention at this point.

"The wearer of a Sanrei glove would, for a short time after removing the glove, be capable of releasing a highly destructive amount of power which usually served to mow down any Shinigami in their path. As I'm sure you experienced," he commented bitingly, "when you took the glove off.

"However, the effect soon passed, and the wearer would invariably die, from one of two causes. Sometimes, the wearer would simply be killed by the surviving Shinigami in battle, once they found themselves defenseless, but more often, it was simply a matter of the massive reiatsu drain being enough to kill them, for I think you will find that spiritual energy and the body's ability to live are often intertwined in our race." Ryuuken's eyes narrowed, as he added for emphasis, "The fact that neither happened to you is simply a matter of sheer, dumb luck."

Uryuu didn't look at him, didn't say a word. He kept his head down, staring at the floor. Ryuuken knew that he was potentially severely damaging Uryuu's faith in his grandfather, but he honestly didn't care. Ryuuken moved forward, and then came to a stop at about a foot in front of his son.

"The Sanrei glove is an accursed weapon born of black despair." Ryuuken's jaw tightened noticeably. "And you used it without even knowing what it was." He shook his head disgustedly. "Fool."

In years gone by, when Ryuuken looked down at his son, he was most often greeted by the sight of the top of Uryuu's head. Apart from when they were arguing, when in his father's presence, Uryuu kept his head bowed and his eyes fixed firmly on the ground. Ryuuken does not possess the sort of nature that allows him to give love freely, and knows that he came across as intimidating to Uryuu when the latter was a small child.

Judging from past behavior, Uryuu's attempts to make consistent eye contact with him later may well have been a symptom of rebellion, but lately, Uryuu has been falling back on his old behavior, and doesn't meet Ryuuken's eyes.

Ryuuken couldn't care less. He has more important things to worry about.

At times, however, Ryuuken wishes Uryuu could have adopted more of his childhood behaviors than simply keeping his head bowed in his father's presence. He wishes Uryuu still possessed the common sense to keep his head down and avoid trouble, and finds himself praying to gods he's never placed much faith in, that the only person Uryuu will ever have to bow his head to is him.

Now… Now, Uryuu seems to have lost all semblance of common sense, and seeks out danger the way a junky seeks out the nearest fix, the nearest needle and the closest dose of liquid oblivion; in fact, Ryuuken suspects that Uryuu has become an adrenaline junky, a failing sadly common amongst their dying race.

Uryuu has lived on his own for over three years, and in that time it is clear to Ryuuken that he has not learned the most important lesson of life: how to survive on one's own. If Uryuu did count his life to be at all important, he would have run when he had been attacked by that botched Arrancar that night, instead of trying to attack it. He was all but defenseless, but still tried to fight. When it comes to fighting a Hollow, gintō, that cheap knock-off of the Shinigami's kido, simply isn't enough.

It is not the living's lot to find themselves responsible for the dead's portion. If the Shinigami did their job properly, from the beginning, Ryuuken knows that the Quincy race would never have arisen. If the Shinigami were numerous enough and did not insistently engage in the most dreaded affliction of military organizations—in-fighting—then there would never have been a need for the Quincy to pick up the slack and throw themselves into the line of fire in the first place.

Ryuuken can look back and see where it all went wrong; that is the unwanted gift that hindsight gives, to portray, in clarity, what mistakes were made and how everything could have been prevented.

We must let the dead bury the dead. The whole reason that we are as we are now, cowed and in hiding, is because we got in the Shinigami's way. We may have been more numerous than them, but we never had a chance in Hell. If the war were to start over again tomorrow, and the Quincy's numbers were to be doubled from what they were two hundred years ago, we'd still lose, badly.

But Uryuu will never see that. Ryuuken knows all too well the shortsightedness and arrogance of the very young, and knows that Uryuu will believe what he will, will never heed his father's words, until experience alters his opinions.

Uryuu has learned nothing. Turning away from his father can not erase the man from his life. Trying to deny that the Quincy race is all but dead does not change the fact that there are only two Quincy left alive, that nothing they do will ever be enough to hold back the tide of inhuman devourers, that one by one, the Quincy of the past fell, and that they too will fall.

Uryuu is a fool. He does not know how to live. He does not know how to survive. He barely even knows how to breathe. Ryuuken can not remember a time when he was so ignorant—true, he had better teachers, but that is no excuse for Uryuu's ignorance—and can feel no pity for his son's cluelessness, only disgust.

Staring out his office window, the sky so dark a shade of blue as to almost be black, Ryuuken sighs, spotting a moving shadow on the sidewalk and knowing that Uryuu is walking back to that small apartment, so far from the home that was never any home to him. Uryuu remains, in his father's eyes, the child who knows nothing, has learned nothing. He is at his worst insolent and insubordinate, and makes no attempt to hide it. He has no instincts for danger, no distinction between the fights he can win and the fights he can't, and still possesses no ability to survive or save himself.

But in his own way, even when he can barely bring himself to admit it to himself, Ryuuken still loves his foolish son.

And that, he knows, makes him an even bigger fool than Uryuu.