Oi! You! If I wrote some stories that explored the parts of the 'verse (MHM and AFD both) that we don't see, would you read them? The noble Visoreds and Kensei reuniting with their families after their outing, a certain character asking a certain Visored (shouldn't be a surprise who) out, Shinji Hollowfying for the first time, etc.? I take prompts! Plus it's great for me to flesh the 'verse out.

Just realized that in Japan students do not travel from classroom to classroom but instead have the teachers travel. Since I've already written the dialogue and scenes in which the style I'm familiar with is used, please forgive my lapse.

"An allemande (from the French word for German)...'must be composed and likewise danced in a grave and serious manner.'"

"It is...'a serious and well-composed harmoniousness in arpeggiated style, expressing satisfaction or amusement, and delighting in order and calm.'"


"So, Ishida, what's a Quincy?"

No. Oh nononono. The roar of Hollows had finally affected his hearing. Arisawa was not asking about Quincies. This was more of a headache than he needed. Verdammt! He swore, thoughts racing behind the blank look he was affecting for his classmate's sake. Why couldn't he have taken Grandfather up on his offer of homeschooling? Then he wouldn't have creepy Shinigami hitting on his classmates, wouldn't have to keep looking over his shoulder, wouldn't have to deal with people he'd known for ages suddenly developing spiritual abilities and turning into more Hollow targets. Gottverdammt!

"Uh, Ishida? The desk's going to lean if you keep doing that," Arisawa said, giving him a look halfway between unsettled and fascinated.

Uryuu blinked, following her gaze and immediately searching his vocabulary for more German profanities. Grandfather was always reminding him—in that gentle way of his that no one could possibly be angered by, unfortunately—that control was the most important aspect of Quincy abilities; it looked as if despite his protests Uryuu still needed those reminders. He released the poor desk leg and cringed, finding the impression of his death grip in its metal. That trick would be so much more useful if he could consciously use it to enhance his strength, but for now it was a bad habit that Uryuu had yet to break.

"You'll have to tell me, Arisawa-san," he replied at last. The best thing to hope for now was that if he kept Arisawa in the dark her burgeoning spirit power would subside.

Uryuu's heart sank as she leaned in close enough for him to feel her breath, delivering a scowl to rival Ryuuken's. "Ishida. I am in a very bad mood right now. Keep bullshitting me like Hirako and so fucking help me I will pop your little nerd head off."

Ishida swallowed hard, weighing his options. On one hand, getting eaten by a Hollow was a fate he really didn't want for Arisawa. On the other hand, he liked his head to be atop his shoulders. "After school. Follow me and you'll have your explanation." And, if he could remember the proper technique, a blurry recollection of the past twelve hours.

"You'd better." She turned on her heel and stalked off to grab her belongings, leaving a slightly dazed Uryuu in her wake. He shut his eyes, focusing. Uryuu didn't know how the Shinigami viewed spirit power, but Quincies were human archers. They relied on their eyes and hands, limited as both were by their physical nature. Since using his hands to examine the spirit ribbons would be conspicuous as well as imprecise, Uryuu would have to use his eyes. He just had to tune out the physical world...

Instead of darkness behind his eyelids, Uryuu saw figures of varying colors and brightness. Most were dim and fuzzy, the white of ordinary souls. To his own eyes Uryuu's hand shone icy blue, contained beneath his skin. Glancing about, the Quincy was startled to see that Hirako wasn't quite the beacon he'd expected. The other Shinigami Uryuu'd seen were figures of light, almost as bright as his grandfather. Hirako Shinji was a bizarre combination of black hole and miniature sun, impenetrable darkness twisting through him, centered on his solar plexus. Golden power blazed in the rest of him, intertwined with the darkness but separated—just barely—by a thin layer of bluish-white. The two colors fluctuated constantly as Uryuu stared at him, but the blue-white was always there between them.

He shook his head slightly, turning his attention to the classmates that he had seen glance up when Shinji had oh-so-cleverly taunted them from the ceiling. To his dismay, Arisawa burned with a faint spark of cream-colored reiatsu, not yet settled on a color but definitely leaning towards a fittingly fiery shade. Inoue-san glittered palest green at her center, the color of an unopened spring flower. Thankfully her power looked smaller than Arisawa's. Or perhaps more compact, but he prayed that wasn't the case. Sado had a pulsing seed of faintly bronze-tinged power at his throat, just about where the medallion he always wore hung. He thought he saw a twist of black-and-red power above Mizuiro's heart, but it vanished when he looked directly at it. Blasted windows and sunlight, messing up his spirit sight with sunspots.

Verdammt! Uryuu made a mental note to expand his knowledge of German profanities. He was going to need them if he had to deal with spiritually sensitive classmates as well as a Shinigami assassin. He opened his eyes, flinching as the world briefly became too bright, souls and sunlight flaring for a moment before the former faded away.

Uryuu fled from the room the moment the bell trilled the school day's end, but Tatsuki was having none of it. He didn't make it more than a few steps past the threshold before a strong hand grabbed his collar. Grumbling about how he couldn't afford to repair a torn uniform, Uryuu began to thread his way through the mob of students with Tatsuki in tow.

Off to the executioners' block... He thought as they stepped out into the sunlight. It was particularly muggy today, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead immediately. Tatsuki seemed unfazed, but judging by the apes she called teammates Uryuu supposed that she sweated more in a good practice than on a hot day like this.

Grandfather would be out of the house today, catching up with some old friends, so Uryuu had at least an hour to either mind-wipe Arisawa or explain to her secrets that she would wish she'd never known. When they arrived at the small cottage where Uryuu and his grandfather lived, he heard her make a small noise of surprise. Uryuu's jaw clenched at the expected reaction. He had retouched the paint himself, even used his earnings from his job at Sunflower Sewing to patch up the roof, but there was no changing the fact that the cottage wasn't what he was sure everyone at school expected from a supposed teen genius. It was simply a matter of hard work, but they insisted on making it a matter of inborn intelligence, thus trapping themselves in low marks.

In any event, Uryuu thought that the cottage's mix of German and Japanese features were far more aesthetically pleasing than anything currently on the market. So there.

He led Arisawa around to the back of the house, where Momi firs and high walls had formed a sanctuary for his Quincy training for as long as Uryuu could remember. Several targets of varying sizes were arranged around the space, surrounded by burn marks where he'd missed the mark. Uryuu halted at the center of the training grounds and turned to Arisawa, nearly colliding with her. He scowled. Thoughtless.

"So what's the big deal about this place, huh?" She demanded, not even bothering to look him in the eye as she talked, instead scanning her surroundings. "Never would've thought you lived here." She had to say it, too? Uryuu barely managed not to glare at her. Grandfather always said that there was never an excuse to be rude to women, but Arisawa was so very masculine that he honestly wondered if he could bend the rules a bit. Stll, he couldn't shake his grandfather's teachings.

"Not as glamorous as you were expecting?" He asked, expression cool.

"Nah, I guess I just pictured you living in some neat little apartment. You know how Sado's got his own place?" Uryuu hadn't known, but he nodded as if he did. "I figured you'd gotten out of the house the second you could, found your own place, and got everything set up with a job and stuff." She kicked at a particularly burned rock, sending it skittering across the grass. "You seem like the kind of guy who's got everything together. Wish I could say the same." Arisawa turned a slightly sheepish grin on him.

Well, Uryuu didn't have everything together by any means, but some of the tension in his shoulders eased anyway. "It's my grandfather's house," he said, removing his glasses to rub away a little pollen. Uryuu replaced them carefully and added, "It's been in my family for generations, since my great-great grandfather came here from Germany." He wasn't sure what compelled him to add that last bit, but Arisawa was frustratingly easy to talk to, or maybe he was still worried that she'd beat him up for holding back any information.

She blinked. "You're part-German? You don't look it, really."

Uryuu fiddled with his bracelet. Sooner or later she was going to get bored with pleasantries and move on to why she'd followed him here in the first place. Maybe if he kept distracting her she'd forget? "You could say that," he said evasively. Ryuuken had never been shy about considering Quincies to be inhuman, while Grandfather was somewhat more vague on the whole subject. "Besides, it's been several generations." Absently, Uryuu reached out with his senses. He wouldn't put it past Hirako to be hanging around to eavesdrop.

"What is that?" Arisawa asked, startling Uryuu into pulling his power back. "I felt something like that today after Shinji passed out."

Interesting. So she used the ruder form of address when he wasn't around to take offense? Uryuu had been right in his assessment during their spar. Arisawa was scared of Hirako, whether she realized it or not. "What is what?" He asked. Perfect! If I can convince her she's crazy, maybe she'll stay away from this. Crazy's better than dead in the end, I suppose.

"That." She gestured expansively at the air. Uryuu's heart sank. So much for that. "Like the air got heavier or something. Like- ugh, I don't know. Like someone was looking for someone else." Her spirit-sensitivity had already progressed to reading intent? This day could not get any worse. "It was stronger earlier, though."

"We can't all be Shinigami," he snapped before he could think the words through. "I mean, ah... we can't all be certifiably crazy?" Uryuu tried.

Now he had her full attention. Arisawa's head snapped back towards him, blue eyes narrow as she raised her fist at him threateningly. Uryuu couldn't help but note the scars on her knuckles, signs of many more people punched out. "What the actual fuck is a Shinigami," she said slowly, less of a question than confusion verbalized.

Uryuu's strengths ran towards book knowledge and tactics, not people, but he was smart enough to know that it would be a bad idea to hold out further on Arisawa. He sighed. Ryuuken would have so many disapproving words for his son if he found out, providing he even cared enough to say anything. "Sit down, Arisawa-san. And don't interrupt until I'm done."

She sat down, cross-legged, eyes fixed on him as if he would disappear and take his knowledge elsewhere if she looked away. Uryuu grimaced, tugging at his bracelet and letting the little cross dangle from his wrist. He held it out to her.

Arisawa squinted at the cross. "So what, you're a Christian?"

"No, Arisawa-san. It's just a focus. Look at my hand—above it, rather." Uryuu turned his hand over, palm up, and concentrated. If he focused on his hand, on the air around it, there should be some spirit particles... There. Uryuu shut his eyes tightly as the spirit world flared up again. This time his eyelids only provided a little relief, blocking out the physical world, but not the chaotic, bright fog that was the flow of spirit particles. He pulled on a collection of them, careful to only take a small amount and concentrate them. Too much could cause him to lose control and blow his hand off, too few wouldn't produce the effect he wanted. Then to spread a little of his own spirit power through them...

"What do you see now?" He asked when he was sure of his success. It was a basic training exercise, one that Uryuu had been doing since he'd begun his life with Grandfather. The technique, Himmel Perle, was supposed to act as a light source, though Uryuu's eyes were too sensitive to let him use it or any Quincy technique in daylight without inadvertently blinding himself. Examining others' spirit power was usually a safe bet, though, so at least he'd become very good at that.

"Shimmery... Wait, no. Light? It's gone again, dammit!" There was a pause as Uryuu felt her spark of energy become charged with intent. "There! If I look at it out of the corner of my eye I can see it," she reported. "How are you doing that? And when are you going to answer my question?"

"You can't do it," he said. "It's a technique my grandfather taught me, Himmel Perle. That's 'Heaven Pearl' in Japanese, if you can't say that." Uryuu released the spirit particles, sliding his mental filter on again and opening his eyes. "Some people can access spiritual power, Arisawa-san. A few of those are Quincies; my grandfather and I are. The rest are Shinigami." He glanced at her face, finding the expected disbelief written there. "Quincies are human." More or less. "The Shinigami may have been, before they died."

Arisawa sat there for a while, staring. He tensed, bracing himself for her outburst about how none of this was possible. A few sparrows chirped in the trees as Uryuu waited for his classmate's response.

"Shinji's a ghost," she said at last. "I'm going to school with a ghost and a wizard."

Uryuu's scowl was immediate. "I'm not a wizard. And Hirako isn't a ghost. If he was, you would have considerably less difficulty seeing him."

"But you said he was dead!" Arisawa insisted, folding her arms. "Make sense, pencil-neck!"

Uryuu glared. "You seem to be under the illusion that insulting me is going to get you what you want. You're wrong. As it happens, there are three types of spirits. The first is what you'd call a ghost, the soul of a dead person. The second is a Shinigami, some of whom were at one time ghosts. They've gone to the afterlife and are now soldiers there; they all wear black kimonos and carry swords, while ghosts wear whatever they died in." His jaw tightened. "Shinigami claim to protect the living from the third type of spirit, Hollows. Hollows are corrupted, insane ghosts that want nothing more than to take their pain out on the living, preferably through eating us. It's my grandfather's and my job to destroy them when the Shinigami don't get there in time. They hardly ever do," he added bitterly.

Arisawa's lips formed a perfect 'O.' "But if Shinji's really some kind of ghost samurai from another world, why is he here? I mean, have you seen this town?" She flung up her hands. "We've got a good school system—mostly—and a pretty famous hospital but not much else. And who even hires Shinji as a soldier? He's like a teenager! Why do they need an army, anyway?"

Uryuu's mind spun with all the questions thrown his way. "To assassinate me and my grandfather, the Shinigami do, and for Hollow-killing." For someone who made a point of keeping Inoue-san grounded, Arisawa had clearly had some of her friend's inquisitiveness rub off on her. Some of her utterly bizarre mindset as well.

She lost the incredulous look, but Uryuu couldn't figure out what the new expression on her face was. "...ohe's a teenage ghost samurai ninja. How the... who the... what." Uryuu decided not to point out that she hadn't finished the question. He waited, sure that she'd recover shortly. When she did...

"I'll rip his fucking throat out!" Arisawa declared, surging to her feet. "That bastard, flirting with Orihime when he's some kind of undead ninja! Thank you, Ishida. Now I have an excuse to beat that pervert into oblivion!" She cracked her knuckles, sporting a psychotic grin.

While Uryuu would've liked nothing more than to let her do just that, he decided that it wouldn't be very pleasant for Inoue-san to have to visit her friend in prison. "Arisawa-san. Sit down before you run off and get yourself hurt." Uryuu was fairly certain that telling her to calm down would only enrage her further. "You're so eager to have an excuse to take out your frustrations on Hirako that you're not considering the magnitude of what I've told you."

"The hell am I not considering?" She snarled, apparently not taking his suggestion to sit down very well either. "Ghosts are real! You're a wizard and Shinji's a ghost samurai ninja! End of story!"

"Not the end of the story," he snapped. "Kurosaki's dead, yes? The Shinigami here left to switch with Hirako that day; he couldn't have sent him on. There was no Hollow attack or I would've known and stopped it. Where is his ghost? Have you thought about that, Arisawa-san? That all people become ghosts when they die, that around you every day are the souls of people you may have known? That the longer they remain on the earth, the closer they come to becoming mindless beasts, devouring people without reason? Hirako Shinji is also not a 'ghost samurai ninja,' as you put it. He is a cold-blooded killer, possibly centuries old and vastly stronger than you, who may never have been human to begin with." He adjusted his glasses. "This is bigger than your grudge against him for making advances on Inoue-san and defeating you in a spar. My grandfather and I are the best hope for dealing with him, Arisawa-san. This isn't your fight."

A voice came from behind Arisawa, weathered and creaky like one of the carved wooden chairs that sat around the cottage. "Although I do not know why my grandson is revealing our world to you, young lady, you would do well to listen to him." Both teenagers flinched. Uryuu rose to his feet, reluctant to meet his grandfather's disapproving gaze. Verdammt! I'll never hear the end of this.

"Arisawa-san, this is my grandfather," he mumbled.

His grandfather inclined his aged head. "Ishida Souken. I had hoped that when Uryuu brought home a girl, it would be under less serious circumstances, Miss...?" Grandfather still had yet to relinquish his Western honorifics, relics from his German father's upbringing. It irritated Uryuu to no end that even after spending most of his life in Japan his grandfather refused to use the same honorifics that everyone else did.

"Arisawa Tatsuki," she answered, looking him in the eye, bold as ever. "Nice to meet you, Souken-san. Why shouldn't he tell me about this stuff? Hirako's the one harassing me and my friend every day."

Grandfather sighed. "Because he is correct. This is not your fight. And I believe, Uryuu, that we had already been over this. Soul Society knows enough to not send Shinigami after us. If this 'Hirako' is attending your school, he is doing so for unrelated reasons."

"What other reason could he have?" Uryuu burst out. "Why wouldn't Soul Society finish what they started? This Shinigami isn't like the others. He even said something about how Soul Society 'wouldn't like this' and how there was only a little time left! What else would he mean?"

"I don't know," Grandfather replied calmly. "But I can assure you that the assassins of Soul Society are neither known for wasting time nor for being highly visible." An expression of pain hardened his features for a moment.

"He told me that I had potential that couldn't be ignored," Arisawa mumbled. Both men stared at her. "And that I should come with him when he said to 'cause he's got some friends who'd want me in their schools."

"See!" Uryuu gestured at her. "I told you Hirako's got some kind of agenda! And it isn't good!"

Grandfather knit his thick brows together in a sharp frown. "I see. I think it would be best if we discussed this inside."

He let Uryuu unlock the cottage, motioning for Arisawa to enter before him. Before he entered, Uryuu's grandfather withdrew a silver tube from an inner coat pocket and planted it in the ground, murmuring an incantation that Uryuu didn't catch before following them inside. Walls of sky-blue reishi rose around the cottage.

The elderly man puttered around the kitchen for a bit, gesturing for the two to take a seat. Arisawa plunked herself down without hesitation, Uryuu sat more cautiously. They waited in silence as Souken put on some water to boil, presumably for tea. When he finally took a seat across from the two, they were beginning to get restless.

"Did the Shinigami say anything more to you, Miss Arisawa?" Grandfather asked, clasping his hands and resting them on the table.

"Uh... that I'll be weak if I didn't obey him and he couldn't be around weak people?" She rubbed the back of her neck, frowning in concentration. "And I was the most interesting and basically if I didn't do what he said something bad would happen?"

"Basically?" Grandfather's gentle gaze didn't waver, just stayed trained on Arisawa's small face. Now that she wasn't threatening him, wasn't puffing herself up to intimidate Karakura High's delinquents, Uryuu was struck by how small his classmate really was. Maybe twenty centimeters shorter than him, Arisawa's strength lay by necessity in speed and momentum rather than brute force, though he was sure she had plenty of that too.

"Well, he said he didn't like me asking questions when he told me not to and that I would like it better when he liked me," she replied. "Is there something special about that? I mean, I dunno how wizard stuff works."

He chuckled. "As I am sure my grandson has told you, we are not wizards in the sense you are thinking of. The Quincies manipulate spirit particles around us to fight, rather than using magic. The Shinigami have far fewer limitations than we do, if you're bound and determined to seek out magic."

"That's Orihime's job, Souken-san," Arisawa said with a grin. "More than once she's tried to convince me that vampires and werewolves exist."

Grandfather blinked. "I believe that there's record of a clan with abilities similar to those of vampires, as a matter of fact, but they suffered the same fate as the Quincies shortly after their creation." At her stunned look, he added with a twinkle in his eye, "But werewolves are imaginary. As far as I know, no beings with the power to change their shape so radically exist."

Arisawa swallowed hard. "Oh. So, uh, back to what I was saying. Is there anything special about what Shinji said to me?"

Uryuu glanced between the two, hoping for a verdict that would give him permission to turn Hirako into a pincushion. Or at least give him permission to make the Shinigami stop smiling, permanently if possible.

Grandfather's gaze was distant for a moment before he spoke. "There is no doubt in my mind that Hirako is not a normal Shinigami." He held up a hand to forestall Uryuu's questions. "However, I am equally certain that he is also not an assassin. I would advise you to wait, Miss Arisawa. Observe him as subtly as you are able and tell my grandson if you learn anything more. The best way to predict a person's actions is to know their motives. Since we do not know Hirako's motives, that is the first priority. Second, you must learn what he is like. How he moves, how he deals with conflict, what is important to him. All opponents have a weakness." Sometimes Uryuu forgot that his grandfather had been raised for war, that he himself was the exception in a line of Echt Quincies bred for crusading against Soul Society. Now, however, he remembered that fact all too vividly as Souken's normally gentle eyes glinted with a thousand unnamed emotions.

Arisawa snorted. "I already know what he's like, how he fights. What he does with conflict. He's damn creepy, that's what he's like, he fights fast and hard and dirty, and good luck getting a straight answer outta the bastard before he wants to spill."

"Arisawa-san sparred against Hirako in gym class today, Grandfather," Uryuu broke in, feeling rather left-out. "He scared Kagine-sensei into allowing him to challenge her without proper protection when the girls were supposed to be running." He frowned, a thought that had been nagging him ever since that fight resurfacing. "I thought it was simple intimidation, but there was a change the spirit pressure he was exuding. Can Shinigami do that, Grandfather?"

Grey eyes widened. "Exceptionally powerful Shinigami are able to do that, yes. But one of that class should not be in Karakura Town, let alone able to produce such an effect when inhabiting a gigai and sealed as well."

Despite their generally opposite natures, Tatsuki and Uryuu wore identically blank expressions.

"Gigai are false bodies that the Shinigami inhabit when they need to be visible to the spiritually blind," Grandfather explained. "Patrolling Shinigami almost never need them. That Hirako has one is... unusual. Taking into consideration the effect of his spiritual pressure even while using a gigai, he likely possesses more strength than the Shinigami Uryuu and I have known. If his powers are not of the order required for such an effect, then they are worryingly close. If they are..." He traced a cross across his body. "Extremely powerful Shinigami have their abilities sealed to a fifth of their normal strength while in the living world, so that they do not damage the world around them. I do not expect that Hirako belongs to such a class of being," Grandfather reassured them hastily. "There is no emergency in Karakura Town that I know of. It is far more likely that a mistake was made in producing his gigai."

"Next you'll be saying that I have to master Vollstandig," Uryuu muttered, earning him a glare from his teacher.

"You will not speak that word in my house, young man! Show some respect!" He scolded, before sighing and turning his attention back to Arisawa. "Miss Arisawa. While I have no control over your actions, I ask that you not interfere with Hirako's business. Observe and wait for him to return to his home. Continuing to antagonize him would mean attracting the attention of Soul Society, which would certainly bring about consequences for myself and Uryuu. If you receive more instructions, please inform either one of us."

Arisawa nodded sharply. "I'm no egghead like Pencil-neck here, but I'm not so stupid that I'll get the only people who know what's going on in trouble." She checked her watch, an expression that could only be described as the terror of one who had just realized that they were supposed to be somewhere else entirely crossing her face immediately. "Shit! I mean, shoot! I really gotta go." The martial artist shoved her chair back, practically sprinting to the door that they'd entered through before whirling around with a sheepish look on her face. "Uh, can I go through the shiny blue wall or does that hurt?"

The Quincies rose together, Souken motioning for his grandson to do the honors of releasing their guest. Uryuu led Arisawa to the edge of the glowing pentagon that encompassed the house. He knelt, wrapping his fingers around a silver tube in the earth and calling a little of his spirit power to their tips.

"Unsheathe the bastard sword made pure by the font of blood— Entlassung!" Uryuu chanted. A shock ran through his fingers as the walls of reishi around the cottage collapsed back into their respective silver tubes. It was a generic method of undoing basic Ginto spells, but thankfully there wasn't much of a need for that outside of Grandfather's training. Not that that had stopped Uryuu from memorizing every spell he could get his hands on, of course. He straightened, nodding at Arisawa.

"Do not, under any circumstances, tell even Inoue-san what we told you, Arisawa-san," he warned. "Her spirit power is already dangerously close to being full-fledged. You will both be targets for Hollows if you share that knowledge."

"Pfft, I'm not scared of some undead beasties," she bragged, but there wasn't the same conviction in her voice that she'd had when threatening to beat him up. "Guess I'll keep your secret anyway, Pencil-neck!" In true Arisawa fashion, she dashed off before Uryuu could tell her not to call him that. Stupid overconfident karate champion.

He reentered the cottage, where Grandfather was preparing tea. Two lumps of rock sugar dropped into each cup, followed by the tea itself and a splash of cream. Uryuu accepted his cup gratefully. Alcohol might be off-limits at his age, but a strong cup of tea came close enough for now.

"They're going to finish what they started, Grandfather," he said softly about halfway through his cup. "You know it the same as I do."

Souken gazed levelly at Uryuu over the rim of his own cup. "Yes, that's true. The moment your soul arrives in Soul Society, the Shinigami will have finished their genocide."

"What do you mean? I'll still be alive. Dead. Whichever," Uryuu replied in confusion.

Grandfather shook his aged head. "No. When you arrive in Soul Society, the things of this world will fade. Your tenets as a Quincy may stay, your appearance will not change, your personality will be unchanged. But you would be surprised at how quickly your memories will fade. What do you think happened to those Quincies killed by the Shinigami in the Schwarzenacht? They will have become Shinigami, or else found a way to use their abilities to carve out new lives there. The enmity is not the same. When I pass, you will be the last Quincy on this earth. And when you pass, our kind will be no more."

Uryuu set down his cup. The clink of the porcelain was deafening in the small kitchen. "A Quincy would never become a Shinigami. They just wouldn't! No self-respecting Quincy, anyway," he sniffed.

Souken drained his cup, closing his eyes as if trying to find the answer to a particularly difficult question. "Many were not 'self-respecting' in life, either. Part of the reason that you and I are the last Quincies is that after Schwarzenacht many of our kin saw no purpose in perpetuating a tradition that had led to so much death. Much of the war against Hollows was because we wanted to survive, not because it was a noble, righteous cause—though it is that as well," he added. "The survivors were noncombatants, weaker Gemischt and a few Echt of declining families, and some people who held Quincy blood but not Quincy ideologies. A few, like my ancestors, were fighters who survived through what the records will call skill and I will call luck. But by and large we have declined through choice, not through the work of the Shinigami."

"I don't need a history lesson, Grandfather," Uryuu said, scowling. I already get plenty of those, he thought. "Besides, you can't expect me to believe that the Quincies killed in the Schwarzenacht would become Shinigami too."

Grandfather stood, taking his cup over to the sink. "Uryuu, what are Hollows?" He asked, an odd question given his pupil's age.

"'Human souls that, corrupted by their inner torments, lose all reason and higher emotion and become mindless, insane monsters characterized by white masks. They are typically driven by instinct and by an all-consuming desire relating to their emotions at the moment of transformation,'" Uryuu recited. He turned a deep blue glare on his grandfather's back. "I'm not a child anymore; I know that by heart."

"Allow me to focus on a part of your description, Uryuu," Souken said, drying his cup with a cloth. "You say that they are mindless and insane. But when they are purified, their intellects and sanity are restored and they are no longer motivated by the same obsession they had as Hollows. Would a sane, rational person want to remember the actions of their monstrous past self?"

"No," Uryuu admitted, finishing his tea. "What's your point?"

"That the swords of the Shinigami cleanse souls of their memories, Hollow or not. Personality and power are the only traits guaranteed to survive—memories of death may or not be present, and I have heard that some souls change age and appearance to a degree. Those Quincies do not give up their enmities by choice, Uryuu. Neither will you." Grandfather set his cup by the side of the sink with a sigh, almost as if he was about to say something more but thought better of it.

Uryuu surged to his feet, eyes wild. "I won't!" He burst out. "I'm not going to give in to those tyrannical Shinigami! I won't let them get away with just erasing all their mistakes!" He stormed out of the kitchen, heading for his own room and locking the door behind him. Even furious—not at Grandfather, never at Grandfather—Uryuu couldn't bring himself to slam the door. Souken deserved more respect than that.

He sighed, dropping into the well-worn chair that crouched in front of his equally used desk. Schoolwork was always a good way to take his mind off of things. At least when he was working Uryuu could do something about his problems, could actually accomplish something instead of being helplessly angry at the world for the situation it had put him in. It wasn't his fault that he'd been born with powers, not his fault that the reaction of Soul Society to anything that could possibly disturb their carefully-maintained control of the afterlife was killing and brainwashing the threat.

Take responsibility, why don't you! He thought furiously. You walk around grinning all the time, Hirako Shinji, like you're not part of the army that massacred my race. Like you didn't look at the government that can't stand anything different from itself and say, 'I want to be part of them.' Bastard. All you Shinigami do is claim to be the protectors of the world and then neglect those responsibilities.

The sound of someone knocking made Uryuu look up. He rose, going for the door, before he realized that the sound hadn't come from the door. It wasn't like Grandfather to knock with his knuckles, either; the elderly man usually preferred using the heel of his hand. With dawning horror, Uryuu turned to look at his window.

Sure enough, the blond Shinigami who had just invaded his thoughts had now switched to invading his personal space. Hirako Shinji was standing at his window, wearing his usual smirk.

"C'n I come in, Uryuu-kun?" Hirako drawled, voice muffled by the glass.

"It's Ishida to you!" He snapped, biting back the flood of curses both Japanese and German that came to mind at the sight of the Shinigami. "And no! You can't!"

"Uryuu, what's—Ah." Souken's footsteps approached his grandson's door. "If you could please...?"

Not taking his eyes off of Hirako, Uryuu unlocked the door for his grandfather. Souken blinked as he stepped over the threshold, inclining his head.

"Uryuu, let Soul Society's representative in. We should talk." Something had changed about his grandfather, an almost-imperceptible shift in posture and tone that made the hairs on the back of Uryuu's neck stand on end. His spirit pressure flowed out around him, a chill sea breeze to Uryuu's taut bowstring.

Reluctantly, Uryuu unlatched the window and shoved it up, not pushing it up all the way in the hopes that Hirako would bump his head. To his dismay, the blond slipped in so gracefully that it wouldn't have surprised Uryuu if he had practice doing just that.

"How nice of ya to let me into yer humble abode," Hirako said, laying on the accent even thicker than he normally did. "I'm gonna assume you're Ishida Souken-san, this little nerd's grandfather. Nice ta meetcha, Ishida-san." That answered the question of why he wasn't referring to Uryuu by his family name, at least.

"And you, Hirako, though I was expecting that you resembled one of my grandson's teachers and not one of his classmates," Grandfather replied politely. "If I may have your real name, rank, division, and mission...?"

"Drop the corny accent, too," Uryuu grumbled. His ears wanted to fold in on themselves and die with every mangled word Hirako spoke.

The Shinigami pointed at Uryuu. "Okay, first off? That's my actual accent, thanks very much, and I like it." He dropped his hand back to his side, evidently having more respect for Souken than for his grandson—or wanting to fake it, at least. "And Hirako Shinji's my real name, too. I'm from the Fifth, but telling you more wouldn't be any fun at all." Uryuu's ears rejoiced as the strength of the Osakan accent faded. Something about Hirako had changed as well, back so straight that it looked almost painful and spirit pressure trickling out until Uryuu could feel the power cloaking the Shinigami's body. It was as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head, cold and setting Uryuu's senses on high alert. This was not a rank-and-file soldier in front of him.

Grandfather's spiritual pressure shifted to match, sea breeze edging towards a stiff wind. "Your rank and mission, Hirako," he repeated, steel in his voice. "My people lived in Karakura long before yours took an interest in this place. All other Shinigami stationed here have had the good manners to report to me before they conduct their business here. You will not be an exception." Uryuu shivered. It was the exact same tone that he had only heard Grandfather use twice in his life: the first time when Uryuu's mother had died, the second time when Souken had been on the phone. He'd never learned what the conversation had been about or who it had been with, but he pitied whoever had been on the receiving end of that tone.

The grin touching Hirako's lips faded until his face almost looked normal. "Even knowing what I said to Tatsuki-kun, you still...?" He said softly. The smile flickered back into place, but it wasn't as good a fake as his previous expression. "Be happy that I'm in a good mood, Souken-san. Be very happy. I'm not as nice as the Shinigami you're used to ordering around. As it happens, my mission is two-fold." He held up two fingers as if making a peace sign. Uryuu knew there was a reason he'd always despised the gesture. "I do have to patrol Karakura Town, for one thing. My other assignment deals with Uryuu-kun right here."

Grandfather's spirit pressure was now a gale-force wind, pushing against the Shinigami's aura. Me? Uryuu thought, stunned before the very fact that he'd been telling Arisawa and Grandfather sank in. Of course. They want to cut off the future of the Quincies.

"Oh, don't worry," Hirako said, though the sly glance he gave Uryuu said that Souken's reaction had been exactly what he wanted. "I don't want him dead. Well, I do, but that's neither here nor there. You—oh. Of course you wouldn't know. Duh." He whacked himself in the forehead as if to say 'silly me,'; Uryuu didn't know whose benefit the patently ridiculous gesture was for. Above his perpetual grin, Hirako's eyes had finally turned completely serious. "There's a war on and if a friend of mine is right—and he usually is—Karakura's got so much ambient spirit particles that it could be a key point for the other side without someone guarding it. Problem is, when the real battles start, we won't be able to spare any Shinigami to guard this town. That's where Uryuu-kun comes in. I'm supposed to find any high-spec humans here and conscript 'em, whether they like it or not."

"That's why you're targeting Inoue-san and Arisawa," Uryuu breathed. "They've got latent powers."

Hirako's smile broadened. Uryuu realized abruptly that he'd never seen it shaken, only growing and shrinking as its wearer willed. That was part of what unnerved him so about Hirako; his expressions all looked artificial. "Exactly. You were always a given, already having powers. I wasn't expecting such lovely ladies to have potential, but they do sweeten the deal quite a bit. That big guy, the half-Mexican dude Sado, he was one of the first I noticed too. Teach 'im how to control his spirit pressure and maybe he'll stop scaring people away so much."

"You aren't going to take any of my classmates," Uryuu said fiercely. I was born into the problems of the spirit world. They won't be endangered by it if I can help it! "Your infighting isn't their problem!"

The brief narrowing of Hirako's eyes said he'd struck a nerve. "Infighting? For someone who's supposedly some kind of genius you're rather stupid when you want to be. I said 'war,' not 'feud.' If you need a frame of reference, we call the destruction of your race the 'Twilight War.' This time around neither side's going to be so nice." His hand had gone to his waist, brushing the place where a sword would hang.

"Are you threatening my grandson, Hirako?" Souken asked, the steely tone returning to his voice. Goosebumps prickled on Uryuu's arms as a phantom wind whipped past him. "If you are, I do not care who sent you or why. There is only one way that I can make myself any clearer about my intentions regarding your interactions." Mirroring the blond, Souken's left hand had gone to his opposing wrist.

Hirako gave the elderly man a long, considering look. Finally he let his hand fall very deliberately back to his side. Uryuu shivered as cold spirit pressure pooled around him. "No, I'm just giving him a friendly reminder." Narrow brown eyes bored into Uryuu. "You call yourselves protectors, same as us? Prove it. You can't back down from your duty just because you've got authority problems. Your duty is to keep Karakura safe, so come with me and gear up for that. And don't interfere with others who have to do the same."

"They don't have to be part of this," Uryuu countered, mind going to sweet, gentle Inoue-san, so unsuited for fighting. "They're just normal humans."

The sound that came from Hirako was clearly meant to be a laugh, but it came closer to a high-pitched, harsh yip instead of the giggle Uryuu was used to hearing. "Normal? Are you joking? They're as close to human normal as you are at this point. All you could do is make sure they're Hollow bait. If they don't become part of this, they'll become part of Soul Society."

Grandfather sighed heavily. "I had hoped I was alone in that assessment. Miss Arisawa is far too close to the threshold of developing unique abilities for my liking as well, though I couldn't speak of her peers." Uryuu glared at him. Even Grandfather's taking the Shinigami's side? He lamented silently.

Triumph glowed on Hirako's face, chill spirit pressure pulling back. "So you wouldn't mind if I borrowed Uryuu-kun and three of our classmates for the summer, had a few of my friends teach 'em a few tricks for the future?" He asked.

"You would take them to the Court of Pure Souls?" Souken replied hesitantly.

The triumph soured inexplicably at the word 'pure.' "Well I wouldn't just stick 'em in the Rukon. Already got a couple officers in mind, even. One's a lieutenant, if it helps any."

Grandfather inclined his head, wearing a thoughtful expression. "It does. Please give me a night to think on it. I will give you my answer tomorrow."

"What?" Uryuu exclaimed, staring at the teacher he'd thought so wise. "You're just going to- to give in to the Shinigami?"

"I am going to think over my choice," he answered sternly. "Karakura is under my protection as much as you, and I am reluctant to let harm come to either."

"But-"

"Uryuu." Souken and Hirako spoke at the same time.

"Listen to yer grandda, kid," the Shinigami added, slipping back into his thick drawl. "He's been wranglin' Shinigami longer than you."

Uryuu stared flatly at the both of them, one a traitor, the other an unashamed trickster. "I'm going out," he announced finally. Souken would only have his decision swayed if Uryuu's power was flooding out, angry, and disturbing him. "I need something from the sewing shop. Not like I'm just trying to avoid the both of you." He adjusted his glasses, cheeks red as he realized that once again his thoughts had slipped out, invalidating his lie.

Uryuu turned on his heel and stalked out, snatching his school bag from its hook. Maybe he could get the schoolwork he hadn't taken out to do finished. And if not, he needed to review the patrol routes without Grandfather's help anyway.

Hirako's laughter followed him out the door.


Uryuu's feet carried him to the riverbank, as they often did. It had become one of his favorite places, with gentle, grass-patched slopes that the river was constantly pushing and slapping against at the slightest breeze. Uryuu eagerly gulped the fresh air, untainted by Shinigami spirit pressure. It was so hot and humid today that he almost regretted taking in a breath of the sticky air, but he decided that it was alright. He couldn't get away from weather, but he could certainly avoid irritating Shinigami and treacherous grandfathers.

He paced down the length of the riverbank, absently toying with his cross. It was thicker and contained more metal than Grandfather's did, a focus for a beginner, but Uryuu was sure that he was about to be permitted to choose his own cross. It didn't have to be a cross, technically, but tradition pointed to the many, many Quincies who'd used that symbol.

And I've got nothing if not tradition, Uryuu thought grimly, feeling the weight of millennia of expectations and customs on his shoulders. He rolled his shoulders back, as if trying to shake off a burden. Not, of course, that being the last to gain the title of Quincy Master was a burden. It was a purpose, a calling, more than his future-salarymen peers could say.

A tickle on Uryuu's left hand, feather-like, prompted him to glance down. To his surprise, a small red insect perched there—a dragonfly, he noted as he raised his hand up to get a better look at it.

"Ishida-kun! You caught one!" A female voice exclaimed. Uryuu glanced up to see Inoue Orihime bounding towards him, brilliant hair flying behind her. For once Arisawa wasn't with her, to his relief.

As she neared him, the dragonfly buzzed away. He moved to rub the spot where it had been on his hand—bugs were dirty, disgusting things, after all—but was stopped by her outcry.

"Ishida-kun, don't you know that it's good luck to have a dragonfly land on you? They're supposed to bring power and victory to warriors!" Inoue-san informed him, catching his hand before it could reach where the dragonfly had been.

"I-Inoue-san," Uryuu stammered, face blushing as red as the dragonfly. "I-Isn't it a little improper for you to do that?"

She released him, warm amber eyes turning a confused look on him. Verdammt, he couldn't resist such a helpless look like that! "To tell you about dragonfly customs? Sora-nii told me, so it can't be all that wrong!" She said. "He always used to be able to call the red dragonflies to his finger, just like you did, but I never could. Is it a magic spell you use?" Inoue-san struck a bizarre pose. "'Cause I know I could be a really great magical girl! 'In the name of love, dragonflies, and leeks, I, Inoue Orihime, punish you!'" She declared without an ounce of shame.

Entirely confused, Uryuu could only open and close his mouth, trying to find some words for the situation in front of him. Failing that, he changed the subject.

"...Inoue-san, it's quite fortunate that I ran into you here," Uryuu said, bracing himself for the conversation he was about to have. "I have something important to talk to you about. So... do you believe in ghosts?"


Wow, this one just went on and on. So, here are my comments:

Ishida's grandfather wasn't allowed to be killed at the hands of Kurotsuchi in this continuity. Hence why he isn't motivated by taking revenge or showing the superiority of the Quincies (not as much in the latter case, at least.) It's more of a 'they personally offend me' grudge than a 'they let my grandfather die those genocidal murderous bastards' grudge. And he's plenty guilty of judging all the Shinigami by their predecessors' actions, as well as not knowing all that much about their government.

On a side note, I love writing awesome!protective!Souken.