Why did they end up here?

Uryū's reiatsu was not as consistent as when he had left him. Kon certified this, too. He did not want to think of anything bad happening to his friend, but it appeared that nothing good had befallen the boy either. Not wanting to take risks, he informed his father of this and together, they sped to Uryū's apartment. The lion wanted to tag along, so Ichigo stuck him in his bag pack. He was glad that they made a detour to the house. He really was.

"Tsk, this is bad."

Carefully, Isshin pried the unconscious boy's eyelid as he flashed a beam of torchlight at the sapphire iris. His pupils neither constricted nor relaxed. The doctor switched his light off and pressed the cold surface of his stethoscope on Uryū's chest, straining for his heart's rhythm. Satisfied, he clamped the strap of liquid crystal thermometer on the boy's forehead.

Ichigo looked on at his father's meticulous routine without much anticipation. Wondering whether it was best to keep this issue silent or to ring Sado and Orihime right after he got back home, he stood up and approached the doctor when the latter was done with his patient.

"How's Ishida?"

Isshin folded his arms. "I can't tell much with a stethoscope and a thermometer. This is worse than I thought it would be. Tsk, seriously…"

The orange haired boy was oblivious to the man's rambling – Kon was making his way up to his head.

"Oi, don't treat my ear as your stepping stone."

"Shut up! You stash me in your bag for three hours already! And," he glanced around the sullen room, "why are we here ag – oh."

His button eyes were glued to the stationary form before the Kurosaki.

"Who are you calling?" Ichigo asked when his father flipped his cell phone's mouthpiece open.

"Someone important. Go to his room and pack some of his clothes. Get his toiletries also."

"What? Is he coming to stay with us?"

"No."

Isshin spoke no more and hung up only to dial furiously on the number pad once again. Ichigo raised a brow at his father's deliberate ignorance for his question but went to the single bedroom nevertheless. Nothing in there stood out except for a cardboard box filled with yellow yarn and cotton wool. But this was the room of a master sewer after all. Kon dived under the bed – he said people normally place their traveling luggage there – while Ichigo rummaged around the closet.

His father had hinted that the sick boy was going to live with someone else but that someone else was not them. Uryū had never mentioned of any living relatives and he often gave off the idea that he did not want to put up in an orphanage and decided to stay alone. Where else could he possibly go to? The hospital?

"Some help here!" a muffled voice begged.

A pair of stout legs bobbed from under the bed; Kon was dragging a gym bag with great difficulty. Unfortunately, when he tugged harder at the holder, his paw got caught in the zip and the thread came off. He started bawling; he only shut up when Ichigo threatened to leave him like that and let him walk around with the bag for the rest of his life. Slightly flustered at the continuous streams of objections mostly concerning "soft toys' abuse", Ichigo walked over to the sewing kit for a pair of scissors. Upon opening the untarnished cover, a yellowish photograph depicting a kindly old man with a little boy no older than the age of five greeted his sight. They were both grinning heartily that he could hardly relate the little boy with his teenager version currently lying in the hall. He took it out and flipped it to its back. Written vividly in black ink were the words "To Uryū, my grandson." They sounded more like a dedication.

"Ichigo! Done packing yet?"

The boy tore his gaze from the picture. "Almost ready!"

Hastily, he placed it back in the kit and retrieved a pair of scissors from a pencil case. He squatted beside Kon and cut the toy free from the bag, receiving an "About time!" as a token of gratitude. By the time they both re-emerged in the hall, Isshin was already carrying Uryū in his arms.

"You really are going to take him away?" Ichigo asked as he dashed to the door, holding it ajar for his father. Isshin stepped sideways, cautious not to bang the bespectacled boy's head on the wooden frame. Kon was no longer nursing his fingers – he was listening raptly to the progress.

"Where are you taking him?"

"Somewhere safer. There'll be someone looking after him there."

"The hospital?"

"Close enough to be called one."

They walked down the staircase and stayed mute. Down the car park, Ichigo watched Isshin settle Uryū on the rear seats, instructed Kon to sit near him and eventually taking his cell phone out again to dial a certain configuration of numbers.

"Hello? This is Doctor Kurosaki. I'm taking Ur – wait, are you new? No, it's nothing. See, I'm taking Ishida Uryū to your place now. I've explained everything to the house owner – what do you mean you don't know any Ishida Uryū?"

Ichigo was already brimming with countless question marks. He was with his father all the time yet he felt so isolated that he was not a part of the up takings. However, he was not the only one either. Kon, who was leaning against Uryū's upper limb, looked just as perplexed as him. Isshin dialed another set of numbers and spoke woodenly to the mouth piece.

"Fine, your voicemail, huh? I know you might be doing your on-call, but could you explain to the maid about Uryū? I'm taking him there now."

He pushed the device back into his pocket.

"Who was that?"

Isshin started the car and maneuvered the vehicle on the boulevard. Checking Uryū's condition by his reflection on the rearview mirror, he glanced at his son before answering.

"The maid."

"Whose maid exactly is that?"

"The Ishida."

"Ishida… Uryū?"

"No. The Ishida. She serves at the Ishida's residence."

"I don't see anyone at the house."

"No. She works for Uryū's father."

"She what?"

The car slowed to a standstill at the red traffic light. Isshin looked swiftly at the occupant behind.

"And how did you come by the phone number?"

"Uryū's phone book," Isshin mumbled, his mouth twitching as he said so. Wanting to throw his son off this dangerous matter, he asked Kon, "How's he holding up?"

"Err… does not conscious mean he's doing fine?"

"Light's green. So, are we going to Ishida's father's house?"

Isshin sighed. "I guess so."

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DING DONG.

Isshin was at the mansion's main entrance, ringing the door bell; he had left the two boys and Kon in the car. When the door knob clicked, Isshin turned around and signaled Ichigo to bring Uryū in. Apparently disgusted at the idea of carrying another male, he exited the car and opened the back door. Kon was napping on the bespectacled boy.

"Get off him, Kon."

"Shut up! It's tiring to watch over him you know!"

"Ichigo!" his father yelled from the welcome mat, "Bring him in now!"

"Tsk, go away, Kon," Ichigo muttered as he bend over to retrieve the horizontal figure. "You really cause me a lot of trouble, Ishida."

He looked at the whitish façade, untroubled by the mocking he was just dealt with. If he was wide awake, they might probably be trading insults and snide remarks by now.

"Idiot."

Kon perched himself on Ichigo's shoulder as they walked past the wondrously manicured garden with shrubs of all colours fenced along its perimeter. He had no idea Uryū was rich. But Uryū had never showcased such extravagant life. His school bag was frayed and patched and he had an inkling that the boy might have sewn his own uniform. The interior of the abode was not as glamourious as the lawn suggested; the furnishing was simple and tidy that it made the area more spacious that it already was. The sheer curtain had little blue "t"s all over and it reminded him vaguely of the Quincy cross.

Uryū stirred though his eyes were still shut. Ichigo searched the hall for his father.

"Where's the old man when you need him?"

"We can just put him in a room," Kon interjected. "This house must have plenty of them…"

Ichigo cast his eyes for his father again. Unable to locate him in the vicinity, he ascended the waxed staircase with care. There was a short hallway on the storey which led to numerous doors. Kon, who had discovered one nailed with a "My Room" plaque, urged the orange haired boy to enter the chamber. He thought the room might already belong to another kid, but upon opening the door, he just knew it was unoccupied. The space was spotless, but it lacked the certain vibe that inhabited areas usually emanate. It seemed hollow and neutral, not jive and bright like his. The calendar on the desk was out of date and the alarm clock was not functioning. Weirdly, the clock hung above a cluster of glow-in-the-dark planets on the wall was still ticking.

Ichigo lowered the boy on the bed and opened the window by the bookcase. When he was about to leave, something caught his attention.

Two things, in fact.

He approached the solitary book shelf. On the second highest rack, there stood two picture frames – or specifically, one was resting flat on its glass cover. The one still standing, however, was empty. The photograph had been removed. Ichigo straightened the other frame. This one's picture was still intact. A tall man sporting several strands of grey hair was clasping the shoulder of a very familiar toddler. The latter was chuckling; he was pointing a finger at the camera man. He scrutinized the adult's features. Somehow, he bore a remarkable resemblance to Uryū, or vice versa. One could only deduce that the two persons portrayed were none other than father and son. Ichigo put it back face down; if the bespectacled boy found out how nosy he had been in the Ishida's family business, he would be dodging spiritual arrows for a very long time.

"All right, Ichigo?"

He twisted his neck to the door.

"Oh," he picked the stuffed toy up, "Yes."

Isshin spared another look at Uryū before surveying the room. He raised a brow at the huddle of planets glued to the wall.

"Dad, are you sure it's all right to leave him here? And this room isn't occupied, is it?"

"It's fine. Ryūken lives here by himself."

"Who?"

"Ryūken. Uryū's father."

"Oh. I didn't know you like to call people by their given names."

Isshin cleared his throat.

"Well… err, haha, it isn't bad to get to know your son's friend's parent, right? He'll keep an eye on you for me! Haha!"

"Hn. I wonder if that's necessary. You figure out Kon and my activities all by yourself. Way to go, Dad."

Ichigo did not sound impressed at all, much to his Isshin's dismay.

"Well, I am your father after all. Come on. It's time to go."

The Kurosaki exited the room, closing the door behind them with a curt snap.

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Stacks of folders towered on the polished wooden table. A traveling jacket was slung on the back of a high executive chair. The curtains behind the desk were drawn to shield the room from sunset rays. A man whose snowy hair was capping his head had just switched his cell phone on. Five hours ago, he was in the operation theatre for an intricate surgery on a lady's patella. Three other surgeons were taking over his place; he had been completing his on-call since yesterday and up to now, he had spent thirty hours straight working in the hospital. His voice mail was full and so was his short messaging service's memory quota. But a number he had never seen for years sparked his curiosity. He listened to the message left by the caller. By the time he was done, a little colour was drained off his visage. He read the short note left in his cell phone.

Three minutes later, Ishida Ryūken was in his car on his way home.

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Uryū woke up to utter blackness. For a moment, he really believed he had gone blind. He ran a hand over his eyes and realized that his glasses were not there. But slowly, bit by bit his eyes adjusted to the dimness. That was when he noticed it was not so dark after all. The table lamp was on but its illumination was blocked by a solid figure standing in front of the book shelf. Feeling something damp on his forehead, he reached for it only to find a towel resting atop. The figure turned to him and took the towel from his grasp.

"You were having a mild fever. Your condition doesn't allow a prescription of aspirin though."

The boy sat up and looked around him, befuddled. Noticing Uryū's expression, he said, "The Kurosaki brought you here."

Languidly, he proceeded to closing the window by the book rack.

"I just want to see how you're holding up."

"I'm doing well, then."

Uryū shifted to the right as the older man assumed a seat on the bed; it weighed down somewhat under both their mass. The younger one gaped placidly at the carpet and remained exceptionally mum for the rest of the minutes. Ryūken sighed.

"You just won't come to the hospital, will you?"

"I can get better on my own. I'm not so ignorant about this case."

"Yes, you are."

Uryū stirred uncomfortably, his breathing quickened as he groped at the sheets; for a moment, Ryūken thought the boy was going to fall flat onto his bed. But he stayed seated though evidently whiter than before.

"You might want to keep a tab on your emotion and stress level if you want to get well fast."

"Huh, I wonder how to do exactly that?" Uryū scoffed sarcastically.

Even then, he took notice of his father's loosened necktie and crinkled shirt. His hair seemed grayer than usual and he was not wearing the regal air around him. Right now, he appeared to be yet another simple man who had this tiredness scratched onto his face. That was something more of a norm to all working adults he guessed. They went to work fresh and back home done in. He mused if a doctor's life was also of the same pattern.

"Are there many patients at the hospital?"

The bed creaked. Uryū forced his recently put on glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

"You – you look as terrible as me."

Ryūken crossed his leg on a knee.

What a surprise.

Truthfully, he was quite taken aback by his son's sudden randomness but having lost the memory of feeling likewise, he had forgotten how to react. Then there was the fact that he did not have to feel surprised. All this while, everything had fallen into his devices and strategies that there was no longer jubilance when they become realities. That was when all success was stripped of gratification because they were no longer an aspiration, but a necessity.

"Father, guess what I got for English test?"

The kid brandished a brownish piece of paper from his bag. A monstrous "A+" with a little star was stamped at the corner of it. Without the faintest hint of rejoice at such achievement, Ryūken returned his attention to the documents spread out on his table once more. The boy, crestfallen, folded the paper neatly in half.

"I…"

"What, Uryū?"

The little boy squinted at his scrawny knees. Timidly, he shook his head and went to his room.

By being harsh, he could mould Uryū into a self-reliant man who need not rely on others for a living. People often rambled about cooperation and co-existence… what hogwash that was! When would he, the sage whom he called Father, learn that people only care for their skin – they do not give a damn about those they consider lower, even beneath them! Alliance and partnership… bull shit…

Uryū was not to tread behind Sōken. Uryū must learn that there was only he, Ishida Uryū who could be trusted, no other but himself. He must not be hurt. He was too naïve! So Ryūken would drill some sense into his son. There was no other way. Cruel, ruthless… but was not life as unforgiving as well?

Ryūken cleared his throat before getting up.

"Sleep. You'll need the rest."

With those, he left Uryū sitting in the dark.

The boy was far from sleepy, though.

Uryū got up to his feet and stood in the position his father initially was in when he awoke. Facing the shelf, he studied the content perpendicular to his eyes. Nothing interested him. There were a number of bedtime story books arranged in the rack, a broken carbon pencil, three faded bookmarks, two empty picture frames and a sea shell.

A blue diary lay abandoned on the desk.

Uryū reached out for it and flipped to its middle pages. He had written in this so many years ago that he had forgotten he had once adopted the habit of diary writing. He wondered whether his father had read this and intended to find more in his bookcase. All these were keeping him wide awake; who needed sleep when he had been doing that for hours before this? Decided that he did not really need the rest, Uryū sank on the chair, engrossed in the happy days this family once had, back when his mother was always cooking and experimenting with new dishes and had his father and him as guinea pigs.

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The next few days were normal, or at least, normal in the sense of living under the context of "pretend" family. Ryūken would come to his room early in the morning for a quick check before leaving for the hospital. Sometimes, when he was already awake, he would sit up and let his father jab his body with the stethoscope. Sometimes, when he was too tired to peel his eyes, he would just lie and let the man carry on with whatever a doctor always does. And there were also times when he was barely aware of Ryūken entering the room.

The cleaner who doubled as the maid, came only once a week. So Uryū was alone most of the time in the big house, minding his own business. His father had told him on his second day here that he had applied medical leave for the boy. When he asked how long the period of his sick leave was, he received a cold "As long as necessary" for an answer. Orihime had called the house once – she got the number from the Kurosaki – and they talked for about five minutes when he heard engine revving in the porch. His father generally returned at eight or nine and usually he would cook up something simple for two. Uryū would then clean the dishes and went up to his room. So far, they had not really sit down and talk like fathers and sons do, but merely exchanged superficial questions like "How's your work?" and "Did you take your medicine?" at the dining table. Even then, they only spoke when the silence was getting unbearable.

On his third morning, he decided to do a bit of exploring. It had been years since he had been here and he wondered how much the place had changed. The room on the ground floor was the first one he went in. At first, he thought his father would have locked the door. But the knob twisted smoothly when he rotated it and he entered the space where his late grandfather was meant to live in; Ryūken had considered inviting Sōken to stay with them but after receiving intelligence of Uryū's tutelage with the back then still active Quincy, he had never brought up the matter since. The bespectacled boy lay on the bed. Like his room, this confinement was also well managed. The only deco it had was a framed photograph of three grown ups and a baby nestling near his mother's bosoms. All of them were smiling, especially the man with a walking cane. The other man was elated, too. Uryū mused dismally whether the man realized he was having an abomination for the only heir to the clan's name. He would then curl up on the mattress, relishing fond memories of his dear grandfather and the many wise words Sōken had parted for little Uryū during their forbidden training sessions.

The four days after were not easy. His stomach would act in the craziest ways imaginable after he took his meal. He nearly threw up after one brief lunch and actually did during dinner with Ryūken. The latter ironed his back soothingly while he emptied everything into the toilet bowl and flushed the coffee-ground sick down the drainage system after the boy was done. And that was also the night he overheard Ryūken assigning another doctor in his place for on-call over the phone. He just thought it was a privilege in becoming the hospital's director.

Thus, one week had passed at Ishida's residence.

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"Uryū."

Someone was tapping lightly on his cheek.

"Uryū!"

There was a note of urgency in the voice.

Uryū opened his eyes, squinting in the brightness. A blurry face hovered before him and when his lens focused on it, he made out a pair of rimless spectacles, a knitted forehead and hoary hair. The boy clutched the side of his temple as he brought himself up to a sitting position.

What had just happened…

He remembered walking to the kitchen for a glass of water. The grandfather clock in the hall told him it was almost six in the evening at that time. Nothing peculiar had happened. He was walking at his own pace, thinking of nothing in particular… it must be then. His vision went off and he recalled groping around for support and then, here he was, on the floor with his father kneeling by his side. The man enquired nothing of this, so he did not say anything.

All for the better…

It took him quite a while to rid the patches obscuring his sight. Then Ryūken held him by the elbow and steered him right into –

"Grandfather's room?"

"I don't want you to walk up the stairs and break your neck when you fall."

The elder man disappeared into the laundry room after chaperoning his son to where he would be spending the night. Uryū heard quickened slaps of rubber slippers on the tiles, the creak of a door, more slaps of slippers…

Ryūken came in again with a one-liter bottle of mineral water, a comforter and a pair of navy pajamas. He placed all of them at the foot of the bed as he switched the air conditioner on.

"Sleep here for the night."

He eyed his son again.

The boy stared at his feet.

"I'll be in the study room."

The door closed.

One second the man was here, and gone by the next.

Uryū exhaled wearily and got up to change. The attire must have belonged to his father; the sleeves were somewhat longer than his arms and the trouser was loose at the waistband. He folded the excess length and clambered onto the bed. With treacherous pants, it was not very convenient for him to move around vigorously, even if his physical body allowed him to.

Something was out of order.

Uryū scanned the four walls again. He knew something was not in the way it had been during his previous visit here.

He edged towards the framed photo hanging on the wall. It was dangling at an angle. It did not differ much from before but his eyes were quick to discern it. So either the area had been hit by a quake, which he highly doubted since he was here all along, or someone had removed it from the original spot.

His fingers crept to the frame.

Curiosity kills the cat, they say. What if Ryūken noticed someone had been meddling with it? Bear in mind, he still had a long time to spend with his father under this roof.

But satisfaction brings it back.

Resolutely, Uryū grasped it by the wooden rim and brought it down. A hidden compartment came to view. He leaned the picture against the wall while he peered closer at what turned out to be a safe box. It was locked, obviously. But locked or not, he was itching to know the secrets it concealed. Since he had nothing better to do, he thought maybe he would try haggling with luck. So he turned the knob clockwise, then counter-clockwise, agreeing to his father's birth date.

Let it be someone's birthday…

He pushed the sealed cover. It was still latched. Uryū racked his brain until he came to his mother's. When her birthday offered no success, he tried her death date, but also to no avail. His enthusiasm draining, he turned the dial according to his grandfather's birth date and death date. Both failed. Uryū scratched his scalp. If all three persons' crucial dates were not the safety lock's combination number, he did not know what else Ryūken would possibly use. Maybe the day he was named Karakura Hospital's director, or the day he got his doctorate… or perhaps the day he got his first pay…

Uryū, Ryūken's decisions are understandable. He has a family to support after all. But one day, Uryū, one day, you'll understand, too.

He gulped. His trembling hand reached for the knob once more. This time, he turned it with his birthday as the password.

0 – 6 – 1 – 1…

He turned it to the last digit of his year of birth.

CLICK.

He blinked.

Probably more money…

There were documents in the compartment; all of them were enveloped neatly without addresses or names. He examined a large brown one. Inside were some of the black-and-whites of stock investment and an account book specially set up for someone's education fund. All of these, however, were registered under his father and mother's names.

In a way, I was right, right? More money…

He inserted the papers back and took an extremely battered envelope. This one had Ryūken's name written on.

Dear Ryūken,

I still have twenty thousand lot of the share we bought before our engagement. Please contact the broker to transfer them to our son when he turns twenty one.

I'm so sorry I don't have the luck to accompany you till the end of days, to grow old together, and watch Uryū graduates, marries a fine lady and has a child of his own. I hope we can be together again the next karma.

I love you.

Uryū flushed somewhat. He was not supposed to be reading that after all.

He folded it neatly into two and closed the envelope. He retrieved an A4 size paper holder instead and looked into its content.

He blinked. This had definitely never crossed his mind.

Ryūken had bought a life insurance for himself amounting to twelve million in America's currency should he die in any ways except naturally and suicide. A will was attached to it. He could not have written it recently; both Sōken and his mother stood witness to the making of this. The name of the beneficiary to the sum of money was printed at the bottom of the page – Uryū's thumb was covering the words. He removed it, knowing full well that his father had always wanted to raise a trust on behalf of Karakura Hospital.

Heir: Ishida Uryū.