This ends the Uryuu centric saga for the next little while. Regularly scheduled programming should commence soon, but still, I hope you enjoy this.

Quick warnings for grief, depression, though that is par for the course with the Ishida family, huh?


One of Uryuu's very first memories is of watching his own tiny hands glowing.

He wasn't sure how old he was, then, though he believed it happened sometime before he started going to school. At the very least it was before his mom… well…

She was there. That was the important part. She was sitting on the couch, in fact, her inky black hair falling over her shoulders in elegant waves.

(He remembered her hair even more than her face, at times. He remembered running his fingers through it, trying to put little braids into it and succeeding in little more than tying it in knots, drawing grimaces from her when his chubby fingers pulled too hard.)

Yeah, she was on the couch, he thought, and his father, well, he was there too, this being one of the rare times when he wasn't away at work. He remembered that those used to be much less rare back then.

His father was right in front of him, his long elegant fingers guiding his own, softly glowing as he quietly encouraged his son.

Uryuu didn't remember what the man had said. What he remembered was the tone, the smile, as he manipulated Uryuu's fingers, watching with a quiet happiness as Uryuu became enraptured by this little personal light show.

Much later, Uryuu would question if it had really happened that way. His father looked so content and warm in his memories, so different from the Ryuuken that he knew now. What had changed?

He could name a few.

Ryuuken and Uryuu were driving in silence, the child shifting uncomfortably in place. The black dress shirt he wore was stiff and itchy, and he felt utterly miserable. Still, for the first time in a long while his eyes were dry.

And why would he cry? It didn't matter what everyone else had said. That wasn't a real funeral. They didn't even have anything to cremate. His father never found grandfather, after all.

He grumbled to himself, fists clenched as his anger began bubbling over.

"Uryuu," his dad said stiffly, "if you want to say something, you'll need to speak up."

Gritting his teeth, Uryuu did.

"Why'd we stop looking?!" he yelled. He didn't notice how his father's hands started trembling against the wheel. "We don't know that he's dead for sure! We should be looking for that Shinigami, a-and make him pay! We should be getting grandfather ba–!"

The car skidded suddenly to a stop, Ryuuken slamming the brakes mere blocks away from their house.

"That's enough," the man said in a low voice. "Sōken is gone, Uryuu, you need to accept that."

"Y-you don't know that!"

"Quiet!" he finally yelled back, his hand slamming against the horn. Uryuu flinched away, eyes wide with shock. "I do know that. Shinigami, like the one you saw, do you know what they do to Quincy? They cart them off to labs and they kill them. Your grandfather is gone and there is nothing I can d–!"

The words stayed stuck in the man's throat as he glanced down at his son.

Uryuu didn't know exactly what the man saw, then. He could feel himself trembling, though, tears welling up in his eyes. He could see his father in front of him suddenly looking just as afraid as he felt.

The man turned back to the road, driving forward again with a white knuckled grip.

Over the next year, Uryuu learned a few things. He learned how to get ready for school all on his own, how to go to bed with no one home without getting scared, and even how to fall asleep again after a nightmare.

(Get up. Get a glass of milk. Remember that it wasn't real.)

What he hadn't been learning was any of the Quincy stuff he was supposed to have gotten started on by now. He'd tried to ask his dad, many times, but…

"At least take me to the–!"

"No."

"But grandfather said–!"

"I said no, Uryuu. End of discussion!"

That was basically how it went every time. After almost half a year of begging, of settling with doing target practice at recess with rocks, and only occasionally using his practice bow at home when his father wasn't around to see it, he got tired of waiting for a yes.

He was going to find a way to continue his training by himself, he'd determined. He just needed to figure out how…

His mind drifted pretty instantly to the books his grandfather kept. They had all sorts of useful skills in them. If he went through them, he'd be back on track in no time. The only problem was where to get them. He didn't know where his father stuck the old Quincy books that used to be littered all over the house, but no matter how hard he searched Uryuu couldn't find them. That left exactly one other place to get them.

The old hideout… He would have to go to the old hideout… alone.

Just the thought of that had him locking up in terror. He didn't want to go anywhere near that place, but… he had to, for his grandfather. So, he crafted a plan.

Today was a Wednesday, and on Wednesdays his dad didn't get back home until right before dinner time, usually with some kind of takeout in hand. He was sure he could make it to the Quincy hideout and back in that time.

So, he hurried home that day, narrowly dodging a teacher that had a "we need to talk" face on. He practically ran the whole way there, even rushing up the stairs, roughly throwing his school bag off his shoulders. He dumped out all the books and stray papers inside, stuffing in his practice bow as well as a notepad (just in case he found something that couldn't so easily be smuggled back). He left the house as quickly as he came.

Uryuu was used to walking the streets alone, at this point. He didn't even get any funny looks for it, anymore. He just ran along, heading straight for the edge of town and feeling butterflies in his stomach as he strayed further from home.

He knew the way. He'd taken it plenty of times with his grandfather.

Suck it up and stop being a baby!

Before he'd realized it, he'd made it to the hideout, eyes settling right on the concealed entrance. Instinctively he took a step back.

His eyes darted around the area, heartrate rising. That was where the car was parked. There was the tree he'd tripped past as he ran out of the forest and for his life, and that thing was probably still close by, and…

Uryuu shook himself, forcing a few steady breaths. He just had to go inside and leave, not that he had to make quick work of it, of course. The Shinigami was nowhere close, anymore. His father had said so.

Forcing his legs to stop trembling he stepped forward, walking right through the entrance, his eyes screwed shut all the while. He only stopped walking once the noises around him changed and he realized he'd was in.

There were animals chittering around, the waterfall rushing in the distance. He very slowly opened his eyes to see the blossoming spring flowers, light streaming through the tree cover.

Walking further inside, Uryuu felt something in his heart clench. Everything here looked just as he remembered it.

Then again, it all seemed so different, didn't it? It felt bigger, emptier, somehow. He plopped down on a patch of grass, fingers immediately ripping out blades by the chunk.

Grandfather isn't here, he thought. Grandfather loved this place, but he isn't here.

For the first time in what felt like a long while, Uryuu curled in on himself and started crying. It was noisy, it was messy, it hurt and just…

He felt so alone, right then. (Just that thought made him cry all over again, even harder.)

He didn't know how long that went on for. He was just crying and crying and crying– and suddenly he was opening his eyes to darkness. He glanced up, alarmed.

The skies were a navy blue. Uryuu was collapsed against his backpack, the stiff leather digging into his ribs. He could hear leaves rustling, being disturbed by something, and for some reason he didn't think it was a fox cub.

His heart started pounding. He scrambled up to his feet, wincing against the scrapes he put into his palms as a result. He just reached for his bow, notched a blunt arrow and drew it in a shaky grip. No one else was supposed to be here, not unless his dad was wrong, and the Shinigami was still around and–

"Uryuu!"

His hand slipped suddenly, the arrow disappearing into the darkness only to thump into a nearby tree. His terror began to melt away.

"Uryuu!" his father yelled again, panicked. He rounded the corner, practically tearing through the brush. His eyes landed on his son, and shoulders slumping the man let out a deep sigh of relief.

Then, his face steeled.

"We're going home," he said, grabbing Uryuu's arm.

"B-but I… the books!" Uryuu stuttered out.

"That doesn't matter, now. I'm taking you home."

"Oh, come on!" Uryuu pulled his arm free. "I need them! If you won't teach me, I gotta teach myself, and this is the only way!"

His father took a step back, seeming lost for a brief moment. It went away as quickly as it came. In a fluid motion he threw Uryuu over his shoulder.

"H-hey!"

"We're going, and that's final."

He dragged Uryuu to the car kicking and screaming.

Uryuu let out a harsh gasp, nearly bolting out of bed in fright. He felt disoriented, sleep still in his eyes and heart pounding. It took a bit of blinking, a bit of time taking in his blurry surroundings, for him to realize that he wasn't currently in a forest running away from shadowy faced monsters. Sickening laughter wasn't echoing around him, urging him forward.

He was in bed. It was nighttime. (Slipping on his glasses he realized it was two AM to be exact.) He had school tomorrow, as well as some self-imposed training regimes to go over, so he didn't exactly have time to waste to be doing… this.

(And no, he hadn't given up going to the hideout after that first time. All he'd done was get smarter about his dad's work schedule.)

At the same time, though, he really didn't want to go back to sleep, not right now, anyway.

With slightly trembling limbs he peeled himself from his mattress, setting his feet on the ground and moving towards the door with quick but tense steps. He half stumbled down the stairs, all while remembering that old regimen that he hadn't had to fall back on in nearly a year.

"Get up. Get a glass of milk. Remember it wasn't real."

He barely made it to the kitchen when he realized that, for once, he wasn't alone there. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of white, the sting of cigarette smoke in his nose. He turned.

Ryuuken was sitting at the kitchen table, two crumbled cigarette butts already in the ash tray. The largest mug in the house sat in front of him, half filled with coffee.

The man looked exhausted, face drawn, and bags under his eyes. There were no work papers in front of him. The TV as off. He was just sitting there, and that unsettled Uryuu for reasons he couldn't articulate.

His father noticed him, then, looking up at his son, an eyebrow raised in a silent question.

"Why are you up?" Uryuu asked bluntly.

The man shrugged. "No reason," he said, and then he continued on his current cigarette.

Uryuu didn't wait for him to elaborate, or even correct the obvious lie. He instead grabbed his glass of milk, taking a deep gulp immediately. Should he take it back to his room? Should he drink it at the couch? He usually just drank it at the table like he was supposed to, but…

No, there was no reason for that to change now just because his father was there, even if the smoke did smell awful. With that in mind he sat down in the chair across from the man, drinking slowly.

They didn't speak, not even when Uryuu finally left for bed.

"It" all started when Uryuu's father made it known that he was aware of Uryuu's secret training sessions.

Oh, Uryuu had suspected the man knew more than he let on, but he certainly didn't want to say anything about it. He even had some appreciation for how easily they avoided the subject all together. His father had made his stance clear a long time ago, after all.

Then, his father got a call from his middle school. They were concerned about his frequent bruises and wounds. His father hadn't been too happy.

(Dang, Uryuu thought he was being careful. He probably should have realized his homeroom teacher would notice the giant acid burn from the other day, at least. Damn Hollow.)

It wasn't the first time a few harsh words between them devolved into a shouting match that alarmed the neighbors, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. It was just the first argument in a while that centered around this particular topic.

"You're fighting Hollows? Really, Uryuu? If I'd thought you would take it this far, I'd have put a stop to this back when I found that first tome hidden under your bed!"

"You… urgh! Someone had to do it! So, what, I got a few scrapes?! I beat them!"

"There are Shinigami for this! They don't need rank amateurs like yourself 'helping!'"

"Please, as if I'd ever leave it to THEM! When have they…!"

The rest was a blur. It probably wasn't even worth remembering, and they'd repeat it plenty of times, anyway.

(And each time the argument was always the same, at its core. It even ended the same way, with someone storming out mad, usually Uryuu.)

It didn't take long for Uryuu to get tired of them, either. Where he used to just barely tolerate being home alone, now, he looked forward to it. As his dad took on longer shifts, more responsibilities at the hospital, Uryuu found himself growing more and more relieved. Mornings, dinners, and weekends were spent alone, in peace.

(He remembered one week he didn't see his father at all, only spotting his shoes at the door once or twice. It hadn't even struck him as odd until he saw him in the living room one morning reading the Sunday paper like all was right with the world.)

Amongst all the relief and all the hard feelings, however, Uryuu just felt defeated. By the next argument, he felt downright exhausted.

"You will never be ready, Uryuu! You ought to just quit while you're ahead!"

"What, like you did?"

"You cling to this…"

"…all you ever talk about! ..."

Maybe that was why, the next day, he was loitering around the town square instead of heading home. (Ryuuken had an early shift. He was probably back home, by now.)

High school was barely two months away, he remined himself. Then, it was just a matter of getting into Tokyo University like he wanted, and he could forget about this whole thing.

Three years wasn't that long… right?

He let out a sigh, considering the different snacks in the convenience store, as well as the merits of asking Mrs. Hoshino for some work for the ten days Spring Break lasted.

Yeah, he was going to ask her tomorrow, he decided suddenly. He also decided on a red bean bun that looked edible enough. It was almost dinner time. He couldn't waste the whole day here.

"One hundred and fifty," the cashier said.

Uryuu riffled around in his wallet, taking his sweet time when something on the metal racks caught his eye. There were some ads for apartments in the area. Almost as a joke he plopped it onto the counter, fishing out another one fifty.

He left the store, eating the bun, nose stuck in the paper just because it was something to waste time with.

There were quite a few apartments listed nearby, many of them newly built. (It was funny how a town like Karakura had such a demand for construction. It was almost as if buildings getting mysteriously destroyed was a common occurrence, and no one really questioned it.)

Some of them boasted size, good neighborhoods, price, but one in particular bragged about being close to Karakura High, though it was rather small, comfortably fitting two at most.

Three years was a long time to wait, he remembered. He seriously doubted his father would agree to this, but who knew? It would at least be an interesting way to spite the man.

He fished out a pen from his school bag, circling the listing several times before tucking it away. He stuffed the used bun wrapper in his pocket and trudged along, allowing himself to get distracted by whatever random things came his way.

Was there a flyer for a musical event he didn't care about? He might as well give it a glance. Was there a food stand that he didn't recognize? He took the time to memorize its name. Did someone lose their cat for the fifth time? Well, keeping an eye out was just his duty as a citizen.

Finally reaching his front door despite all his efforts was… irritating.

He trudged through, ignoring the phone call his father seemed to be in the middle of, and barely sparing the cold soba on the counter a glance. He just stuck it in the fridge, figuring that he'd eat it sometime after homework was finished.

"…I'll be right in." Ryuuken's voice drew near, coming in from the hall. "I just have to make sure that… Uryuu." His eyes settled on his son, expression unreadable. "Give me fifteen minutes." He hung up.

The man looked carefully at Uryuu then, opening his mouth like he wanted to say something before closing it again. One hand went for the cigarette in his shirt pocket as the other reached for the keys on the counter. He started moving past Uryuu.

Something about that really had Uryuu bristling. Before the man could pass him, he whipped out the apartment ad, sticking it in the man's face.

"What's… this?" Ryuuken asked, pushing it away with distaste.

"It's close to Karakura High," Uryuu said by way of explanation, "and it's not very expensive, either."

Ryuuken sent him a scrutinizing scowl. "What would you know about rent prices?"

Uryuu resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Consider it," he said flatly, trying to be as civil as possible. Judging by the narrowing of his father's eyes it was a moot effort. Still, the man took the paper, quickly stuffing it in his pocket.

Uryuu later assumed that the man threw it away promptly after, having been properly irritated by his son's passive-aggressive actions. He didn't so much as mention it for over a month, after all.

In fact, Uryuu barely saw him for that month. He seemed to always be at the hospital after that for one reason of another. The boy was genuinely surprised when he saw the man waiting outside for him at graduation to greet him like every other parent.

Ryuuken spared his diploma a glance before steering him into the car. He said something about having to work late that night, starting very soon, as proven by the white lab coat that was shoved into the back seat.

Things were otherwise silent all the way up to the house. The man stopped at the front, and just as Uryuu unbuckled his seatbelt he said something else.

"You're moving out for school. It's the apartment you picked out."

Uryuu was agape. "…Really?"

"That is what you wanted, right?"

"…Yeah," he said in a small voice.

He got out of the car and his dad drove off.

Walking into the house, he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Was this whole incident further proof that his dad was completely unpredictable and possible a secret space alien? Yes, but it was… it didn't…

It didn't make him very happy for some reason, and he didn't know why. He was relieved, looking forward to some more permanent peace, but as the weight off his shoulders lifted a new one in his stomach settled.

He should probably start packing.

Uryuu collapsed on his apartment couch feeling the healing scar on his chest pinch at the movement.

Just that walk managed to wear him out, somehow. He wanted to pass out, badly, possibly for the next twenty-four hours, possibly right here. It was hard to sleep, though, with all these thoughts going through his head. He wished his fingers weren't shaking so much. Introspection made for a great time to work on stitches.

He would have to make do with just his thoughts and silence for now, then.

Despite all the arguments, all the bad blood and insults, Uryuu never hated his father. Did he hate seeing him? Sometimes, but whenever Uryuu thought of hating Ryuuken himself he'd remember the smiling man with the glowing hands and just get confused all over again.

He kept thinking of their talk. There was barely even any arguing involved, and all Uryuu really saw was just how sad Ryuuken looked. It frightened him.

For all intents and purposes, his father, despite whatever hang-ups he had, decided to meet him halfway this week. Twelve-year old Uryuu would be jumping for joy right about now. Fifteen-year old Uryuu just wanted to curl up in a ball.

He supposed a proper thank you might be in order, maybe an assurance that he wasn't dead once this whole thing was over. Who knew, they might even start talking again.

Again? We never really talked.

Okay, maybe they would start talking, he mentally corrected.

That seemed like a plan, he thought. He'd stop by and–

No, his father would probably assume he wanted something again.

Then, he'd stop by his father's workplace, wait if he had to, and…

What, ask him out for dinner?

Either he was even more tired than he first thought, or this whole thing was much harder than he first thought. He needed to come back to this later, maybe subtly ask Abarai or Orikasa (who both seemed to have a much better grasp on the proper child-guardian relationship than he did) for some advice.

Yeah, there was a proper plan. Get some rest. Meet up with the others. Actually make a plan, later.

He turned his focus to phase one.


As far as favorite interludes go, this one is number two for me, right behind Orihime's flashback chapter. I am working on the final interlude for the arc right now, though, so that might change.

Also! I'm starting to realize I have a limited number of these left, so I'm really trying to make them count. As I'm drafting up the next arc I'd love it if you could give me some input on what y'all really want to read about backstory-wise. It might sway some of my decision making, here. Your comments do give me life, after all.