I'll try to make this quick: Pre-Civil War, Not Compliant with the TV shows, Not Compliant with the Thousand Year Blood War Arc. Bleach timeline has been moved up so Fullbringer takes place in 2015. Bleach Universe will be AU, changed in ways particularly covered in the TWBW, regarding the Spirit King and Royal Guard. Minor OCs (such as other Soul Reapers and Hollows). As mentioned in the summary, Howard is (understandably) not listed in the Avenger's characters, so just kinda pretend he's up there.
Regarding the Howard-Tony relationship here, I'm going with my interpretation of the movies-not the comics, including the tie-ins-and I don't believe it was intentionally abusive, but it definitely left damage. I'm open to debate on the matter, but it will not change the course of this story.
In other words, I think they have a complicated relationship I hope to portray as complicated. Feedback is welcome.
Cross posted on AO3
When Tony first saw Howard roaming around Avengers Tower, he ignored him. After all, he appeared to be 30 years old, had a goddamn sword at his side, and seemed to ignore everything, so what was the point. Maybe it was a result of flying a nuke through a massive space portal, or late palladium poisoning in the mind, or an unexpected side effect of having the arc reactor removed from his chest. Hell, he could just flat out be losing his mind, hallucinating about the past and it manifesting in the strangest ways. Everyone knows he has—had—has?—issues with his father, whether he admits it or not, and he's sure Freud would have a field day psychoanalyzing the sword.
So he ignored it—he was good at that, ignoring his problems (Thanks, Dad) and whenever he thought he caught the gleam of a sword or the nonexistent swoosh of a suit through a wall, he just looked away and pretended he didn't.
As the days drug on with no other symptoms and no other hallucinations, Tony's hypotheses became more and more outrageous. Maybe the universe decided that it hated the Stark family and sent Howard as a guardian angel after Tony's umpteenth screw up. (But that would imply that Howard was good enough to be an angel, which just left a bitter taste in Tony's mouth.) Maybe Tony died and was in Hell and Hell decided that the best way to torture Tony would be to slowly shred his mind. (But there were far better ways to do that than his father—believable, maybe not, but better.) Maybe it was some elaborate prank to push Tony into admitting something. (Okay, guys, you can stop.)
He refused to consider any possibilities that the thing, spirit, phantom, thing in front of him was truly his father.
And if he gazed forlornly and blankly at certain parts of his tower for longer than he should—well, it's his tower, he can do what he wants.
One day he has a small party: with the original team…or the parts of it he could salvage, at least. Steve, Clint, and Natasha show up with Bruce still under the radar and Thor up above it somewhere.
And if Pepper noticed how his eyes twinkled with both the satisfaction because these people came out when he asked them to and the depression because we're not all here she was kind enough not to comment on it.
Not a party, really, but a gathering, more like, or perhaps just a bonding exercise, but nonetheless it turned to alcohol and while Natasha may have excused herself and Steve may have refused, three's a crowd and two's enough to stave off loneliness and one's enough to make a world changing comment. Well. Not world changing, but Tony's-world changing and it was close enough.
"Why is there a samurai-ghost-Howard Stark staring at us?" Clint asked, slurred with the characteristic drawl of either alcohol or laziness.
"What." Tony had seen Howard, of course he did. He showed up partway into the gathering, phasing through the wall and just leaning against it, staring at them.
Clint looked at Howard, Howard focused on Clint, Tony looked randomly between them, and Steve looked like the man out of time he is.
Essentially, "What." described the situation perfectly.
"How much funds did you pour into this, one, Tony? Looks pretty great," Clint continued, gaze not coming off the partially relaxed figure against the wall.
Steve followed Clint and Tony's gazes, but his expression only morphed into further confusion. Howard's expression twitched downwards briefly to match, before he vanished—not unlike the magnificent swish of a magician's curtain.
"Shows over, I guess," Clint stated, colored ever so slightly with the distinct tinge of disappointment, reclining back into his original seat in Tony's expensive chair.
Through it all, Tony's expression never changed from the pale and shocked expression, shell-shocked, stiff and unmoving in his seat, drink forgotten and laying dangerously still and loose in his hand. "I didn't do it," Tony stated quietly, the words tumbling from his mouth; the gracelessness having no correlation with his intoxication.
"What?" Clint asked, the vowel sound elongated by at least ten times to Tony's fragile mind, "Tony not taking credit for something spectacular?"
"I didn't do it," Tony insisted, a twitch of his arm sending the already precarious glass to the floor.
Within the next second, Steve was out of his seat, a hard stare already spurring Clint out of his. "He didn't mean anything by it," Steve commented, slowly reaching out to put a reassuring hand on Tony's shoulder.
Clint picked up the glass while muttering an apology, and as quiet as it may have been, both of them knew he was being sincere. While he retreated to dispose of the debris and to retrieve a towel, Steve took his chance.
"Have you talked to anyone?" Steve was probably the poster boy for not talking to people when he should, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to help those he cared about.
"Talk to someone? That's your great big, all-American plan?" At the very least, it brought the stunned expression off his face, and though the so-called Stark snark wasn't at its fullest, it was a lot better than him saying nothing at all.
"I know," Steve gave a small smile, knowing that therapists just weren't trained to handle certain things, like waking up 70 years in the future and probably also flying a nuke through a hole in a suit of armor. "But we're all friends. So if you ever want to talk…"
Yeah. Friends… He couldn't help thinking of Bruce, how he tried to tell him about what happened, how he fell asleep—it brought a sad smile to his face—and how, now, after everything, he, the other guy, the Hulk, whoever you wanted to say it was, just left like it was nothing. He knew that he didn't know anything about what it was like to not want to destroy everything and have no choice in the matter, what it was like to not be able to control yourself; that he didn't have the right to judge Bruce, and he knew that when it came to Bruce that it wasn't personal, that it was never personal to him, but damn it felt like betrayal and Tony knew what betrayal felt like. He wanted to say he'd be back, he was right the last time he said he'd be back, but oh, he was wrong about so many things recently.
"You didn't get along with your dad?" Steve was armed with the awkward hesitation, not looking at Tony as he seemed to contemplate whether he had the right to ask that question or not.
Tony wasn't going to deny the question (accusation?) but he wasn't going to just let Steve tell him about himself either, so instead he simply deflected the question, "…I didn't want him dead."
"Tony, if you're seeing—"
"Uh! Uh! I didn't see anything," Tony corrected, and while yes, he does see the so-called ghost and he did see the ghost just previously, Clint was the one that pointed it out, and that was enough that it wasn't technically a lie. "Clint saw him. It. Him?"
Steve finally withdrew his hand and his expression furrowed as if he was overviewing mental footage to verify what Tony had said, before giving the slightest nod and turning away. "Why would Clint see an image of your father?"
"A samurai version of my father, his words. I'm betting Fury put him up to it." But it still didn't make sense.
"You two done gazing into each other's eyes?" A quip marked the return of Clint, twirling the soon-to-be dirty rag on the tip of his finger.
Steve gave him the classic tilted head and frown that implied disappointment (did he patent that yet?) before commenting, "You get that from Natasha?"
Clint snorted and tossed the rag over, letting it arc gracefully and land on Tony's face.
"Don't I hire people to do this?" Tony complained, half mocking, half serious, "I'm paying for everything, can't one of you clean up a mess?" Nevertheless, he dropped the rag atop the mess, before swiping it around a few times with his foot. Steve legitimately looked sheepish and made to bend over, but Tony waved it off with a sly comment, "Sleep is important for the elderly." He clicked his tongue and winked.
Steve gave an exaggerated exasperated huff (Tony wondered if he was above rolling his eyes or just did it out of Tony's sight), but legitimately left the room, if only because he knew that was Tony's way of asking to talk to Clint in private.
As soon as Steve was gone, Tony was sitting forwards, staring at Clint with an uncharacteristically serious glint in his eyes. "What did you see?"
"I told you what I saw! It looked like your dad, in a suit, with a sword!" Clint shrugged, returning to the seat he was in previously. "Who even uses a sword anymore?"
Tony raised his eyebrows.
"…Yeah, okay."
"Did you even know my dad?" Tony wasn't sure exactly of Clint's age, but it didn't seem to match up exactly.
"No. Shield file."
Tony crossed his arms. "Did you see Cap's face?"
"What about him?"
"Completely clueless." Tony gave a haphazard wave of his hand, "Looked like he just woke up 70 years in the future after an ice bath." (Clint's mouth twitched upwards.) "Okay, fine, maybe I was content to think that I went a bit insane after the past few years. I think we all did, fair? But what do you think the odds are that we both saw the exact same thing? And what do you think it means that Cap couldn't?"
"That we're both insane?"
"Are you even listening?" Tony suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.
"Sure I am. But is there anything I can say that wouldn't irritate you right now?"
Tony exhaled, rubbing his eyes as he thudded back against the velvety cushion of his chair, mentally running through the possible replies that Clint could have given, and reluctantly admitting that no, there were probably none that fit the criteria. "Three of us were in the room, two of us saw the same thing, one of us didn't."
"Sounds like run-of-the-mill spirit stuff to me." Clint shrugged, albeit serious, as he let himself thud into his chair this time.
"Yeah, why not. Not like it's stranger than anything else we've seen," Tony complained. Just because it wasn't stranger didn't mean that he wanted to deal with it. "But why my dad?"
"I'm sure you can find things on the internet about this. But don't spirits have unfinished business or something like that?" Clint scratched his chin, eyes and mouth crinkled in thought. Likely trying to remember all the ghost movies he's seen in the past decade.
"Let me just pull up psychopomp-dot-spirits and read through it." Tony rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "But why now? He died at the end of 91."
"Maybe you're asking the wrong question. Maybe you should be asking why we can see him now."
Tony opened his mouth to reply, but then it twitched and closed itself. He had so many things that he could have blamed insanity on, what if one of them turned him into a medium? "Maybe you're not such a birdbrain after all." The eye of the hawk—sees all, questions all, perceptive to no end.
"I'm glad I could help, but did that actually help anything?" Clint ignored the birdbrain taunt.
"It's a start. Why us, and why now? The only time we've spent together is basically New York and Sokovia." Damn. Promising, but no closer to any answers.
"Why don't we try this when we're not inebriated?" With a smirk that implied despite his words, Clint was enjoying the mildly aggressive look on Tony's face.
"Pfft, you telling me you're a lightweight?
"I'm telling you that a nice night of sleep is good for everyone."
They laughed, both knowing that the odds of a peaceful night were slim.
The next days were spent reviewing what little footage he had of said events, unfortunately confirming that there was very little that he and Clint were together for, even less of that seeming to hold the key to what they were experiencing.
Steve hovered far more than Tony wanted him to, despite protests from both men assuring him that nothing was going on. (When Tony and Clint agreed to keep this from him, he's not sure, but it happened at some point.)
This.
Tony didn't have an word for it. Ghost sight? Spirit radar? Something that two of the avengers (that were left) shared, but the rest didn't?
Reluctant to tell the rest of the team, to tell Shield, because it was hard to say what an admission would do. God, he barely wanted to tell Clint about it and Clint was in the same boat with him.
And that's how, today, Tony ended up herded out of the lab by a mother-hen Steve, sitting deflated in a chair, staring blankly at the swirling black hole in the air.
…The what?
Just as Tony's mind focused on the anomaly before him, a boney, white claw reached through, gripping firmly onto the sides of the portal as if it actually physically existed, before a snout, pointy, pure white poked through too, gleaming golden eyes swirling to focus on Tony.
"Huh?" He really shouldn't have been surprised. Really. But was it too much to hope that ONE foreign species out there was actually nice to Earth?
The beast lunged.
"Holy shit!" Reflexively his legs bucked, trying to jump out of the way, but the angle only sent him into the chair, tipping haphazardly, sending him spiraling over himself, even as Cap called his name in dismay, even as the Iron Man suit came to him, but it wouldn't MAKE IT.
Tony could only stare as someone appeared out of thin air, as Howard appeared out of thin air, between the beast and Tony and Cap, a sword wedged firmly against its open mouth, the momentum of the two forces colliding almost making the scene run in slow motion.
He was vaguely aware of Cap at his side, staring down in concern, but he, still draped awkwardly around the chair, could only keep his eyes on the battle before him. It felt like something out of a bad nightmare—unable to look away, unable to speak, unable to draw breath—
And the momentum shifted, Howard finishing his strike and shoving the beast back. It roared—a grating, horrible noise that drilled into Tony's core (why was it so hard to breathe?)—rearing back with a grotesque claw to rake at—through—Howard, only to meet steel as the man swung against it. Howard rocked back from the collision, his block clearly ill-formed, then quickly leaped to the side to avoid a sickly long tail coming from the opposite side.
"Kutabare, shinigami!" the beast growled, a low, guttural sound that seemed to echo despite the room usually not doing so, as Howard awkwardly twisted to escape both the tail and the claw coming from opposite sides.
"Shinigami ja arimasen!" Howard responded in kind, skirting off to the side. "Soul Reaper desu! Kore wa New York City desu! Dôshite Nihongo wo-?!" He didn't have the chance to finish before an attempted vivisection caused him to jump back and focus on keeping the pointy appendages away.
Tony's expression dropped, not so much frozen by fear as stupefied by the sheer incredulity of my samurai-ghost father is fighting a giant masked lizard. The high speed dance nearly blurred out of sight, even as Steve continued trying to shake Tony and get a response. Soon enough, Howard was backed against the window, and a clawed punch sliced through it with a resounding shatter, instantly catching Steve's attention.
He actually can't see them, the part of Tony's brain not watching the show whispered. I guess the window spontaneously shattered to him.
"Is that normal…?" Steve uncertainly asked, and Tony wanted to say No, it most definitely isn't, but his mind was too focused on the hellion's roar of deprived pain, and Howard unsteadily rolling back towards him and Steve—without his sword.
Undeterred, Howard regained his balance, a foot, maybe even less, away from the two of them, resting a palm outwards, "You lord, mask of blood and flesh, all creation…"
Tony stared as the creature lunged forward, claws aimed to rip his father's throat out. Whatever he was doing, he'd best hurry it up.
"Sir, please prepare to engage." Friday's dull tones were ignored in favor of the chaos.
"… Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges …"
The claws came closer, impact imminent, and like he said to Steve, tumultuous relationship or not, Tony didn't want Howard dead—"Move!"
Obediently, Steve lunged out of the way, just in time for the Iron Man suit to come careening into the chair, sending Tony flying into the air before latching onto him and adjusting itself accordingly.
To Tony's surprise, the creature stopped inches from Howard, and a brief look revealed Howard's sword pinning it's tail to the ground.
"Destruction Spell thirty-one: Red Flame Cannon."
A blast of red energy blinded Tony and a murderous roar deafened him. He could see it's silhouette, then Howard's suddenly, widely arcing his sword through the beast's face—and it was no more. Dissolved away, only a small butterfly taking off towards the sky the indication it was ever there. And the broken window.
Tony hovered in the air uncertainly, the faceplate receding so he could watch Howard personally.
Howard remained with his back to Tony, sheathing his blade with a swift motion.
To the side, Steve stared curiously at Tony, gaze occasionally drifting to the broken window.
Before Tony could make his decision whether to approach Howard or not, Howard made the decision for him, by reaching into his vest's pocket and pulling out a device that logically did not fit in there. Tony's expression furrowed and he continued watching Howard—No, he was not stalling what are you talking about?
"Tony…put the suit away," Steve spoke with the long suffering tone of a man (a soldier) who has lived through, seen a lot—though the latter did not include the peculiar sight before them.
Tony's gaze flickered to Steve, though he tried not to make it too obvious he was staring at Howard. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. No danger here. Friday?"
"Yes, boss."
Even before Friday's smooth voice finished, the suit began to recede, shortly leaving Tony to land on the floor.
Before Tony could decide if he wished to approach or not—no, he was not stalling, what are you talking about?—Howard made up his mind for him, by reaching into his vest's pocket and pulling out a device too large to logically fit in it.
"I have a confirmed target. In the tower," he stated, to the device now identified as some sort of cell phone or walkie-talkie.
"The tower? What tower? There are a ton of towers here." Whoever was on the other side spoke with the cold exasperation of one who had dealt with one Howard Stark for far, far too long.
"The one with the giant A on the side of it." Howard exhaled gruffly, as if he expected the answer to be obvious.
Tony idled himself picking up the chair he had knocked over in his haste, not needing to watch to hear what was being said. You haven't changed at all, have you? There was no bitterness in the thought, he got over it long ago. No bitterness at all…
"Avengers Tower?" The voice didn't particularly sound surprised.
Tony tried to keep the twitch of a smirk from being noticeable to Steve. Even the afterlife has heard of them. Speaking of Steve, he was still trying to talk to and get Tony's attention, but Tony kept shrugging him off with hand waves and careless 'I'm fine.'s.
"The tower formerly known as Avengers Tower. They have a new base now; I don't know if it's still called that or not."
"Yeah. I know." Something about the way the tone dropped made it sound displeased. "There's a potential target there, too. An older scientist. One of his friends, a younger lady, might be a target too, but the hollows haven't tried yet."
Even actively trying to be inconspicuous, Tony couldn't stop his attention from snapping at those words. He seemed to be the 'target' Howard was referring to, but the others… Clint may not be the birdbrain he acts like, but Tony wouldn't call him a scientist either, and he didn't exactly hang out at the new headquarters…
"At least three, then? They seem to like the tower. The energy here is dense. They also seem to be getting stronger. The last one was difficult."
"Damn it. I was hoping that was a fluke, but since you're mentioning it too, I doubt it. Watch yourself, Stark. The last thing we need out here is a higher class of hollows."
"A…higher class?" Howard's words virtually mimicked exactly what Tony was thinking.
"The ones we've been dealing with are basic hollows. There are three classes above that. If you happen to meet a super tall fellow with a black cape, Stark, do not engage. I repeat, do not engage. Do I need to say it a third time?"
"Yeah, I heard you." Howard's face didn't need to be seen to picture the sour expression.
"You heard me, but are you going to listen?"
"I suppose we'll find that out if we encounter the situation."
"I had a feeling you were going to say that. Oh, and Stark, keep in mind that if humans are being targeted by hollows, they can probably see you. The man almost saw me a couple time already."
"I'm aware."
Tony stared at his father, but before he could stand or say anything, the phone disappeared back into Howard's pocket, and soon after the man disappeared into the New York sunset.
This is actually based on a roleplay universe with my friend, as such Howard's soul reaper partner is based on her OC.
According to the wiki Howard speaks Japanese. On the other hand, I do not, but it simplifies things, so feel free to lecture me about my errors. I could always say that Howard's not a native speaker either, but that feels like a lousy excuse and I don't think he'd do something halfway either, LOL. What's actually being said isn't important, so don't worry if you don't know Japanese either.
