Uryuu and the Seven Shinigami
Part 1
Branches slashed and stones bruised as an exiled prince fled through the forest bordering the Quincy kingdom. The harsh rasp of his breathing was a turbulent ocean in his ears. Darkness smothered all around, converting familiar scenery into the most terrifying unknown. Swift, steady footfalls followed his frantic pace. A wide-eyed glance behind confirmed deepest fears: his pursuer was closing in and it was only a matter of time before the prince was subjected to that legendary sword.
The same blade that had murdered his father would claim his life, as well.
Gritting his teeth against an acrid surge of panic, Uryuu willed his aching legs to press harder against the sturdy earth beneath his feet. He dodged around a wide trunk and leapt over a rotting log but the footsteps drew nearer. Although his situation seemed impossibly dire, the prince knew he could not give up. There was a wide, rushing river nearby and if he could only reach it there might be a chance. Uryuu could hear its telltale gurgle in the distance, could taste it in the air like salvation tingling on the tip of his tongue.
An arrow embedded into a low-hanging branch right above his head. It was a warning shot, not a miss, and he knew the next would pierce his heart. The prince skidded to a stop. He stood statue-still, panting and trembling with exertion as his eyes slid shut in mournful resignation. It was too late. Uryuu slowly turned to face the assassin and opened his eyes for the last time.
"Haschwalth, wait," he implored as the man shouldered the bow to draw his sword instead. "Please do not do this. I know your belief in my uncle has always been boundless but he has become insane."
"Silence."
Haschwalth, the man who had once been the king's most loyal guard, marched forth and struck the prince to the cold ground. A heavy heel was pressed against his sternum to anchor him there. Uryuu clutched the man's boot and heaved with all his might, but he was weak from his midnight flight out of the castle.
"Don't do this!" repeated the prince. "You know this is wrong. I have done nothing to deserve a punishment as severe as execution!"
"You have dared to defy his majesty and that is reason enough."
Though the set of his angelic features was calm, there was a white-hot wrath burning beneath the surface. Haschwalth shifted more weight onto the prince's rib cage and listened to him strain for each shallow breath. He tapped the point of his longsword against Uryuu's chin, forcing it up to expose his throat. The anxious bob of his Adam's apple grazed the wicked edge.
"Please, Haschwalth. You once served my father faithfully, didn't you? I know you regret what you did—what you had to do to him. Do not dishonor him further by killing his only child at the whim of a mad usurper! Your sins may still be forgiven, but you must make the right choice."
The blade bit into his skin and Uryuu faltered under a vicious wave of despair. He would die defenseless and alone at the hands of one he used to respect and admire as an older brother-figure. No one would ever realize the truth of his death, which would likely be spun as an aggrieved suicide over the recent loss of his father, King Ryuuken. All to advance the bloodthirsty ambition of Yhwach, who desired the throne even at the cost of his nephew's life.
He shut his eyes and waited for the darkness to envelop him.
But the fateful blow did not land. Haschwalth removed his crushing foot and sheathed his famed weapon. He stared up at the frowning man in hesitant hope. The prince watched in wonder as he shrugged off his bow and quiver of arrows to toss at Uryuu's side.
"Run," Haschwalth gravely intoned. "Run as far from here as you can and never return. This is not your home anymore. The crown will never be yours."
Uryuu ran.
He ran until his lungs flamed and his muscles cramped, further into the woods than he had ever ventured before. Night sky churning with ominous black clouds, there were no stars to help guide his escape. Though he eventually slowed to a weary walk, his fine fighting uniform was becoming gradually tattered and stained as the hours passed. Numerous scrapes and scratches began to sting with sweat. His tongue was parched with thirst and his soles ached from constant movement. The insistent burn and rumble of his empty stomach reminded Uryuu that his last paltry meal had been taken shortly after the sun had risen that morning.
Still, he valiantly continued because there was no guarantee that Haschwalth would not change his mind and track the prince down to finish the task. Thunder began to rumble and the leaves trembled at the unrelenting behest of a growing gale all around him. The cool autumn air grew humid with weather's natural warning.
Only once the first drops started to fall did Uryuu seek some type of shelter. He found it in the form of an outcropping beside a craggy hill. The prince sequestered himself in its protective shadow and hugged his knees tightly to his chest. Wind wicked the warmth from his slender form faster than his shivering body could produce it. He watched the lightning fracture the obsidian-swathed landscape and thought of his treacherous uncle, sleeping soundly in the castle he had ruthlessly commandeered.
The storm raged into the small hours of the morning and even after a dim grey dawn arose. More exhausted than ever before, Uryuu could not rest. He was delirious with hunger and thirst and cold, with anger and sorrow and desolation. In spite of struggling so hard to stay alive just last night, he wasn't sure he wanted that anymore. What did he have left to live for? His entire family was gone, his kingdom stolen, his childhood memories sullied with fresh hatred.
Exiled from his homeland, there was nowhere for him to go, no way for him to start anew. The next nearest civilization was separated by days of travel through perilous woods teeming with the even more dangerous and formerly human Hollow. Those hideous, heartless creatures his people endeavored to quell at all costs inhabited this foul place in unimaginable numbers. It was a miracle in itself that Uryuu hadn't come across them so far. Even utilizing the bow Haschwalth had granted, he could not cross the wilderness on one quiver of arrows alone. As adept a marksman as he was, the chances that he would outlast any sizable horde were nominal at best.
Assuming he could beat all odds and survive the forest, the Shinigami residing on the other side of it would slaughter him on sight. The Quincy were renowned for their stubborn and radical politics, particularly regarding the destruction of Hollow. Whatever they had once been, they transformed into monsters who devoured all within their path. They were a scourge upon the earth to be expunged.
According to the Shinigami, however, they were also hapless victims of a brutal curse and could not be blamed for their own savagery. There was even a myth that told of a way to reverse the hex and absolve the Hollow of their voracious inclinations. Thus, the two nations were bitterly opposed to the intolerable methods of the other and had barely managed to refrain from all-out war for many decades. Ironically, the only obstacle keeping them from this noxious path was the vast Hollow-infested forest itself, which loomed paramount between the two adjacent kingdoms.
Uryuu suddenly forced himself to a wobbly stand for fear that he never would again. He meandered between the trees in the general direction of the Shinigami demesne as a steady, light rain trickled down from the endless sweep of dark clouds. The hours passed achingly slowly, a numb blur. By the time he was reconsidering curling up on the sodden ground somewhere, he heard the sounds of a clash up ahead. Following the noises, the prince soon came upon an unexpected sight.
It was a single Shinigami clothed in classic black battle robes and wielding a ridiculously large sword. The man was completely surrounded by screeching Hollow, swiping and nipping just out of range. A bold knock upon Death's door could almost be heard echoing in the swampy clearing. Uryuu was drawing his bow and nocking an arrow before he made the decision. This person may have been his enemy and would likely attack the prince after the Hollow were dealt with, but he could not abide standing by while a man died in front of his eyes.
The incensed Hollow lunged at the Shinigami en masse. Arrows flew and sword sliced. Their deformed bodies collapsed into the mud one-by-one. More poured out from between the trees, drawn to the song of butchery brewing, and their eyes met at last as Uryuu cautiously approached. Recognition of the prince's rival creed registered in the man's startled expression but he did not tactlessly turn his weapon on this would-be ally. Instead, the Shinigami moved to stand back-to-back with him in a clear sign of cooperation.
They fought together against the railing monsters until every last one was felled. Milling uncertainly among the bloody aftermath, Uryuu skirted the worst of the carnage to turn and appraise his fellow survivor. The Shinigami brushed waterlogged orange locks from his eyes and blinked at the bedraggled prince. He knew the frightening picture he must have made after the night he'd suffered, especially because he still held his bow at hand with an arrow ready to fly. Brown eyes dropped to the poised weapon. A muscle in his jaw jumped and his gaze darted back to Uryuu's, assessing.
"Do you intend to kill me after you just helped me?"
The peaceful sentiment took full effect in seconds. The tension in Uryuu's posture eased somewhat as he lowered and then shouldered his bow.
"You're lucky I was passing by."
Frowning with his eyebrows, the man retorted, "I could've taken them by myself."
"Are all Shinigami this rude? Just say 'thank you'."
"Why were you passing by? You're pretty far from Quincy territory."
"I could ask you the same. I thought your people didn't actively hunt Hollow. Or are you hypocrites as well as hypercritical?"
The man rolled his eyes and strapped his sword across his back. Uryuu folded his arms to ward against the cold, his soggy shirt giving a subdued squelch from the motion. The Shinigami looked him over more thoroughly and voiced some of the questions flitting across his incredulous features.
"What happened to you? Have you been out here all night!?"
"I had no choice," Uryuu reluctantly confirmed. "I recently…lost my home. I have nowhere else to go."
"Anywhere is better than this forsaken forest."
Gaze sharpening into a glare, he snapped, "Then I'll just be going 'anywhere'. Good day."
He started to stride off the battlefield but a call from the Shinigami stopped him.
"Wait! If…if you really don't have a place to go, why don't you come with me?"
"What?"
"Come back to the cabin with me to wait out the storm. You can get dry, warm up, and have dinner with us."
"Who is 'us'?" Uryuu asked, growing apprehensive.
"I live with some other Shinigami. They're all decent guys."
"I'm not sure what kind of trickery this is, but I won't—"
"No trickery, I swear," the man asserted, stepping closer. "Look, even though I could've handled those Hollow, I do appreciate the aid. Let me repay the gesture."
"No need. I can take care of myself without relying on the dubious honor of my sworn enemies."
"Our people may be enemies but you and I are not," he reasoned with another step forward. "As evidenced by the fact that you just…saved my life."
Hearing him finally admit the obvious slightly soothed Uryuu's initial irritation.
"A nice notion, but it doesn't change anything. You can't be trusted."
"Not even if I give my word as a warrior that no harm will come to you while you are under our roof?"
That statement, uttered with confident sincerity, challenged Uryuu's steadfast refusal. His offer of succor from the storm was extremely tempting in light of his dismal condition. It did seem like the perfect trap but what choice did he have? The elements, Hollow, or his own waning will to live were as likely to snuff him out as these Shinigami. Unless they planned to torture him for military information he didn't even have, they were the lesser of several evils. Plus, despite what he'd said, this Shinigami seemed trustworthy for whatever reason. Or maybe the prince was just feverish.
"All right. On your word, Shinigami."
"You have it," he solemnly vowed. "I'm Ichigo, by the way."
A conflicted pause followed his introduction. As an ordinary Quincy, he would be at moderate risk of abuse from any given Shinigami. As the former royal prince of the entire Quincy kingdom, he could be imprisoned or even enslaved on principle. His given name and face, however, were not well known throughout the lands. At least, not remotely as recognizable as Ryuuken's. Therefore, it should be safe as long as he did not reveal his family name. He met Ichigo's expectant stare.
"Uryuu. My name is Uryuu."
"Let's go, Uryuu, before we freeze from all this damned rain."
The journey to the Shinigami's cabin was not half as arduous as it felt but Uryuu's vitality was at an all-time low. A fact which was emphasized each time he stumbled and Ichigo glanced over his shoulder in mild concern. It didn't help that the soil was slick and swollen from the deluge. Nor that Uryuu kept glancing this way and that, wondering if he should just make a run for it after all. His racing thoughts only intensified as the minutes passed.
Finally, he halted in the middle of the narrow path and covered his face with shaking hands. He had no clue what he was doing and the trepidation was shredding his insides to writhing ribbons.
One week ago everything had been fine and normal. His father had chastised him about something frivolous and Uryuu had walked out of the castle in a show of rebellion. But when he had returned later that evening, he found Ryuuken slain on the council room floor with Haschwalth expressionlessly mopping the king's blood off his gleaming blade. Now every time he closed his eyes, he saw his father's dull, empty eyes staring back at him.
"Uryuu, look out!"
He raised his head in time to witness Ichigo darting in front of him to block a Hollow's outstretched talons with his drawn sword. The Shinigami shoved it back and parried another strike before swinging straight for its grimacing bone-pale mask. It gave a grating wail and dropped to the mud, defeated. Swiveling to face Uryuu, he wordlessly demanded to know why he had been spacing out like that. He was too busy marveling over Ichigo's rescue to answer.
"A-are we close to your home?" he recovered enough to deflect.
"Yeah. It's not far."
"Then, let us continue."
Frowning like he didn't approve of the forced subject change, the Shinigami nonetheless led him the rest of the way to his cabin. It resolved amid the fog ere long. Candlelight flickering in the windows and smoke curling from a chimney boasted ample comfort. The tantalizing aroma of a savory stew set his mouth watering as Ichigo opened the front door. The instant they walked through it, an overwhelming barrage of sensations assaulted him.
It was so warm. Brightly lit, colorful compared with the banality outside, and filled with that delicious smell. The interior was more spacious than it appeared from the outside. Large enough that the number of people filling the first room seemed reasonable. Uryuu counted them. Seven Shinigami, including the one who had guided him there. Seven. They all looked up from what they were doing and gawked as silence reigned.
The only noise was of Ichigo gingerly depositing his blade among a collection of similar weapons by the entryway wall. He held out his hand in an obvious request to take Uryuu's, as well. A few stressful seconds ticked by before he relinquished his only method of defense in a house full of capable adversaries. The sight of his bow resting beside all of those swords was disturbingly surreal.
Having successfully disarmed his guest, Ichigo addressed the assembled men as a group.
"This is Uryuu. He'll be joining us for dinner."
With that brief declaration, he resumed motion and gestured for the prince to follow. Nobody said a word while the two of them made their way down a long hallway and into a bathing room of sorts. As soon as the door shut behind them, a mighty uproar broke out in the main room.
"Are you sure about this, Shinigami? Your comrades didn't seem pleased to spy a Quincy in their midst."
"Quit calling me 'Shinigami'. I told you my name, didn't I?" he griped, pushing a fluffy towel into Uryuu's arms. "Don't worry about them. I said you'd be safe here and I meant it."
"But—"
"Go ahead and get cleaned up. I'll be right back with some dry clothes."
Ichigo left as quickly as he had entered, leaving the prince to stand in the middle of the small room clutching the towel and still shivering faintly. He warily took in his surroundings. Everything was wooden except for a tall stack of towels and a copper tub placed against the opposite wall. Wooden walls, wooden buckets, wooden shelves, wooden barrels of water, chopped wood stacked beside a narrow fireplace. There was a cast iron cauldron full of boiling water on a hook above the flames.
Just when he was beginning to formulate some semblance of a strategy to 'get cleaned up', the Shinigami returned holding the promised clothes. He placed them on a shelf and fixed Uryuu with a long-suffering look for remaining in the exact same spot where he had been left.
"Give me a moment to adjust," he crossly defended.
Heaving a put-upon sigh, Ichigo dumped both boiling and room-temperature water into the tub until it was half-full and alluringly steaming. Then he handed Uryuu a bar of soap and gave him an encouraging push toward the bath before turning to go. He paused with a grip on the handle.
"I'll be in the other bathroom down the hall if you need anything else done for you."
Uryuu took offense to the man's patronizing tone but kept his mouth shut for the sake of letting him leave. Deeming it safe to strip, he bemoaned the state of his uniform as he slipped out of it and into the tub. His breath left him in a blissful exhale as he sank into the water. He didn't care that his cuts and abrasions started stinging, he was just happy to be warm. Part of him had wondered if he ever would be again.
A very thorough scrubbing later, Uryuu rinsed, dried, and dressed in the borrowed outfit before proceeding to hand-wash his own clothes. With a needle and some thread, they could be mended to serviceable condition once more. He wasn't ready to give up on the last vestige of his origins, aside from his Quincy cross necklace. The one he had to be careful to keep hidden, he sternly reminded himself, since it was a dead giveaway to his royal heritage. It was completely concealed beneath a linen shirt and thick woolen sweater.
He jumped to hear a knock at the door. Ichigo entered without waiting for his permission.
"Are you still—Oh. Come on, dinner is ready."
The Shinigami grabbed his damp uniform and Uryuu trailed him to another room where a line was tethered horizontally near the ceiling. Ichigo's black robes were already hanging there and he made quick work of adding the Quincy costume beside it. Like their weapons earlier, the forbidden juxtaposition made the prince inexplicably troubled.
All lesser thoughts were banked in lieu of concentrating on what came next.
It was madness. Total pandemonium. Seven hungry men scarfing down bowl after bowl of stew, interspersed with discussion and laughter, outbursts and arguments. Uryuu sat at the corner of a very long table with Ichigo on his right and the only other reticent member of the bunch on his left. He risked a glance at the eerily quiet man, eating with the elegance of a thousand falling sakura petals, and hastily went back to staring into his untouched bowl when their eyes momentarily met.
"What's the matter with you?" Ichigo hissed under his breath. "Aren't you hungry? When was the last time you ate?"
He didn't dare glance up as he softly replied to the latter, "Yesterday morning."
A gasp across from Uryuu had him looking up despite himself. The blond-haired Shinigami with solemn eyes leaned toward him.
"Oh, you poor thing, you must be ravenous! Please, dig in. Have as much as you like. Shuuhei is an excellent cook."
"Thanks, Izuru." A man two seats down from him, evidently the cook, smiled under the compliment. To Uryuu, he said, "He's right. No need to hold back when there is plenty to spare."
Buoyed by their collective consent, he picked up his spoon and tasted the stew. It was marvelous. Although he couldn't bring himself to eat quite as enthusiastically as the red-haired Shinigami on Ichigo's right, Uryuu made his approval of the meal known by his actions. A short, mousy young man fetched him another serving before he even had to ask.
"Thank you, um…"
"Hanatarou," he chirped with a shy grin. "You're welcome."
"How inconsiderate, Ichigo!" called a tall Shinigami wearing a green-and-white striped hat on the far end. "You still haven't introduced us all to your Quincy friend."
The red-haired Shinigami snorted, "Some host you are."
Scowling like he wanted to deck both of them, Ichigo obligingly turned to Uryuu.
"Clockwise from your left is Byakuya, who thinks he's better than everyone. The guy across from you with permanent puppy-eyes is Izuru. Next is Hanatarou, sweet to a fault. Shuuhei is cool as long as you don't try to spar with him—then he's downright terrifying—and that old man on the end is Kisuke. Don't swallow anything he gives you. Ever. Lastly, this loud-mouthed idiot on my right is Renji. Happy now?"
Ichigo sat back and took a long swig of water as everyone at the table glared at him for the unkind descriptions. The one labeled as a 'loud-mouthed idiot' immediately lived up to his reputation.
"Who are you calling an idiot, idiot?"
"Don't try to deny it, Renji. Not after that time you got chased by a bear after thinking it was a Hollow."
"And this," diplomatically interrupted Shuuhei, "Is Ichigo, our hot-headed rebel. Of all the Shinigami you could have bumped into today, I bet you're wishing it wasn't this one, huh?"
"How did you know?"
Uryuu earned a round of chuckles for the joke, and a glare from Ichigo. They all went back to their food and the typical cadence of their conversations as though they hadn't been invaded by a loathsome Quincy. The overall experience was unlike any he had known. Boisterous and jubilant in a way meals at the castle never were. It would've taken some time to get used to this manner of interaction, but Uryuu didn't hate it.
When the last drop of stew was swallowed and everyone was positively stuffed, they worked together to swiftly tidy everything up. Relocating to the living area, they sat around for another couple of hours just talking. One of them inevitably asked about Uryuu and he told them the same as he had told Ichigo: that he no longer had a home and would not be returning to the Quincy kingdom anytime soon. Beyond that, he was disinclined to divulge. Fortunately, Ichigo tried to change the topic before the other Shinigami could pressure him into spilling any vital secrets. Except the others weren't willing to let it slide.
"Hold on," Renji interjected, "Wait, Ichigo. You came across this suspicious-as-hell Quincy who wouldn't tell you the tiniest tidbit about himself and your first reaction was to bring him here?"
"It's not like that."
Kisuke hummed with intrigue. "Please, enlighten us."
"Well, I—"
"He took pity on me," claimed Uryuu to save him the trouble. "You all saw the state I was in when we arrived. Besides, how much of a threat could one man be to all of you?"
"I suppose that's fair," Shuuhei agreed. Renji narrowed his eyes in thought but didn't speak up twice.
Then Ichigo ruined it.
"No, that's not it. I mean, that was part of it, I guess. But the main reason was because Uryuu rushed in to save my skin from a massive horde of Hollow even though he could plainly see I'm a Shinigami."
A ripple of impressed murmurs spread through the group.
"A-anyone would have—"
"You shouldn't sell yourself short," Izuru kindly advised. "What you did is no small feat. Not many warriors I've known have such compassion for their foes."
"Even so, the point is moot; Ichigo repaid the favor before we even made it back to this cabin. After that, he had no more obligation to help me than anyone else. Which is why I maintain that the primary reason was pity."
"Don't tell me what my 'primary reasons' are," complained Ichigo.
"Then don't go volunteering useless information."
"It's not 'useless' if I say it isn't. Just be grateful I invited you in the first place!"
"Oh, yes, I am so glad to be rubbing elbows with a pack of rambunctious Shinigami. How shall I ever repay you?"
Uryuu's aggravation ebbed as he realized everyone was staring at them again. On that note, Byakuya abruptly rose and padded gracefully down the hall. A door could be barely heard clicking shut.
"I suppose it is about that time," Kisuke announced. "Sleep well, everyone."
They watched him head for a bedroom on the other side of the cabin. Now that the man mentioned it, Uryuu was feeling incredibly sleepy. It was a miracle he was conscious after all he had endured, and having no rest last night besides. On the way here, he thought he recalled seeing what might have been a cave if he was very lucky. His clothes were probably still damp but if he was to sleep outside, where it was currently marshy and perhaps still raining, it would make no difference.
"Hey," prompted Ichigo. "You're not thinking of going back into the forest, are you?"
Shuuhei magnanimously clarified, "You are welcome to stay here for the night."
"Yes, we would never think of turning you out on a night like this," Izuru asserted and Hanatarou nodded emphatically.
Renji squinted at the prince but didn't contradict his friends' hospitality. He got up to find his own room rather than await the conclusion of this scene. For Uryuu's part, he wasn't sure what to do. Regardless of their varying attitudes, he was not keen on the idea of spending the night in close proximity with so many Shinigami. On the other hand, they had been nothing but non-threatening with him and there was no strategic benefit to tricking him into letting down his guard when they could easily force whatever they wanted from him. If they wanted anything at all.
"I…would like to stay," he finally informed them. "If you are sure I won't be a hindrance."
"Nah, I'm sure Ichigo doesn't mind," Shuuhei reassured with a smirk. "Do ya, Ichigo?"
Rather than answer the teasing question, he scrubbed a hand through his ginger fringe and scowled. Izuru and Hanatarou snickered at his thinly veiled discomfiture. Uryuu glanced between the four of them, searching for the hidden punchline.
"I don't understand. What doesn't Ichigo mind?"
"Sharing a bed with you, of course," cheerfully replied Shuuhei.
Uryuu's eyes flared as his spine stiffened. "What? No, there must be some misunderstanding. I don't—"
"The thing is," Hanatarou began, cringing in sympathy, "Between the seven of us, we don't have a lot of space as it is. Most of us share rooms."
"Kisuke has his own because he needs the extra space for his equipment and supplies," said Izuru.
Shuuhei joined in with, "And Byakuya gets his own because he refuses to share with anyone. Renji and I share a room, as do Izuru and Hana."
"So, Ichigo is the only one who can accommodate a guest," finished Hanatarou with a little wave of emphasis. "And sleeping in the living room isn't really an option since there are no spare blankets. It gets very cold in here at night even with a fire."
Uryuu took one look at the sullen Shinigami in question, gaze aimed anywhere but at him, and resolved that he would rather freeze to death in a cave than shack up with that obnoxious heathen for one night.
"In that case, I appreciate the offer but I must take my leave. I'll see myself out."
"Whoa, whoa," chanted Shuuhei as if the prince were a skittish horse.
"This is nothing to joke about," Izuru gently scolded. "Without proper shelter, you might not surive the night."
"Well, that…wouldn't exactly be the worst thing to happen to me lately." The solemn confession stunned them into strained silence. Uryuu pushed to a stand and ignored the way he wavered just a bit. "Thank you for the meal."
Suddenly, Ichigo stood and gave a disgusted scoff before stomping down the hall to slam a door. When Uryuu's shock at this impetuous display faded, he realized Hanatarou had taken hold of his sleeve.
"Please don't go back out there, Uryuu. I have a bad feeling you won't make it till morning if you do."
"Ichigo can be a real brat sometimes but avoiding him isn't worth dying over," Shuuhei reasoned. "Once you get to know him, he's not so bad."
Izuru nodded and seconded, "Give him a chance. Ichigo's true colors will surprise you."
More than anything they said, the factor that nudged him toward staying was the inkling that they were never going to let him walk out the door whether he wanted to stay or not. Uryuu looked at each of their concerned faces in turn and sighed.
"Which door is his?"
Ichigo was staring out a clear circle rubbed in his frosted window when Uryuu walked in. A single burning candle lit the narrow area and cast flickering shadows across the brooding man. He turned at the sound of his door closing and gaped at the last person he expected to see in his room. His default expression of a full-face frown was back in an instant.
"Decided you're not too good to share space with a Shinigami? Wonders never cease." Uryuu pivoted to reach for the door—on second thought, he really would prefer the woods—but Ichigo hurried over to hold it shut. "Calm down, I take it back. Don't be so sensitive!"
"How should I be, then? Stoic and posturing like you? You're not fooling anyone with this abrasive attitude of yours, you know."
"Oh, like you can talk! You've been acting like a hostage all evening. Meanwhile, my friends have been nothing but nice to you. When are you going to drop the hostility?"
"Right after you do!"
Sucking in a breath for another cutting rejoinder, Ichigo thought better of it at the last second. His teeth clicked shut and he went back to the rain-sluiced window, shiny and black as a slab of onyx. The distorted reflection cast within it gradually shifted from fuming to pensive.
"Fine," he snapped at length. "I can be civil if you can. I'm too tired for this."
Truer words were never spoken. Uryuu hummed in agreement. They both switched their attention to the sole bed in the small room. It wasn't nearly as wide as his had been in the castle, but that was to be expected. Ichigo watched him walk over and crawl right under the covers. The prince eyed him in subtle warning.
"Don't even think of trying anything weird, Shinigami."
"Same to you, Quincy," he fired back, not missing a beat. "Scoot over."
Since Uryuu was practically pressed against the wall already, he rolled over to face it in the hope that its intricate grain patterns could distract him from the reality that he was lying beside the enemy—a haughty Shinigami, and a man besides. When he risked a peek over his shoulder a moment later, Ichigo was also facing away from him on the opposite edge of the mattress. He had better stay that way, thought Uryuu.