Here it is, chapter (uh) eleven! Yes, it's another two part chapter, but I think I broke it up pretty well. Italicized words are emphasized, italicized sentences tend to be flashback or inner monologue, depending on the situation. Special thanks to my sister Jindouji for beta reading.

Disclaimer by Yoda: Bleach, I own not. Wish it, I do. (I don't own Yoda either)

Reflections of a Quincy

Uryuu lay in bed, carefully sewing the turquoise trim to the white suede blend cloth. Trying to accomplish this feat was trickier than he thought; the needlework on more that one occasion slipped from his hands and he wound up fumbling to retrieve it. He was lucky enough that Ururu gathered his backpack and gave him his supplies so that he had something to occupy his hands with. Unfortunately with the amount of injuries done there, trying to do delicate needlework was about as effective as using a pair of clubs for appendages. He cursed silently as the labored embroidery slowly came along, the point of the needle jabbing frequently into the meat of his tender fingers.

At least he had something to do. Sewing gave him a moment to relax and reflect. A tranquil air flowed through him; he didn't think, he just let his hands do the work. There was a stab of pain as he turned over the cloth and he cursed again inwardly. As much as he tried to avoid the topic, the foremost it stuck out in his mind.

Ichigo.

Damn him.

Ishida wasn't exactly sure were his anger stemmed from, but Ichigo was dead in the middle of it. He remembered the look on Ichigo's face as he spoke those words.

I told you I'd bring you back.

That damn reaper. He didn't ask to be rescued. The last time he checked, he had his own conscience – he didn't need some orange-haired pain telling him what he should do.

Looking down, he noticed that he stopped stitching altogether. Somehow he could not find solace in his needlecraft, but nonetheless picked up from where he left off. He watched his injured hands work, weaving the thin thread expertly and quickly, for even at his wounded pace he was faster than a skilled craftsman. The cotton wiring fitted so well, it joined the fabric together seamlessly and created a singular entity among small sections of cloth.

You're going to live…because you deserve to live!

How could he decide who lives or dies? It was not his choice to make, nor his will to carry out. His brow furrowed at the work in front of him, contemplating the look on Ichigo's face upon his awakening. Clearly Ichigo was glad he was alive; besides having him to pick on, he couldn't understand how Kurosaki benefited from his survival.

For that matter, Uryuu was struggling with a bigger concept: When did he lose his own motivation to live? As soon as the outlet revealed itself, he jumped at the chance to take it. Was death that tempting of a release from this existence? Was the will to be with his deceased family a drive strong enough to make him give up?

A chord of realization was struck; Ichigo's words disconcerted him. Do I deserve to live?

Damn that shinigami. Most of the spiritual encounter still fired incoherently through his mind, however bits of memory flitted back to him as soon as he disregarded them. Diverting more attention to the futile attempt at sewing, he pressed those visions to the tangents of his consciousness. Single stitch, lock stitch…it came like clockwork.

Staying at the Urahara shop, while not interested in doing so at first, seemed a welcome break while he recovered. The small partitioned room served as a quiet area to heal, especially since Ichigo had since awakened and milled about the inner sanctum of the store.

Uryuu almost thought that Ichigo would never wake up. During their stay at the Urahara shop, Ichigo remained asleep even as Ishida would wake, stretch, read a bit and rest again. He imagined there was quite a bit of energy racked up in that wiry frame of his. It was a wonder all that power could stay pent up in there, he mused.

Suddenly there was a tap on the wooden frame of his room's sliding door.

Grumbling to himself, he realized that while most of the stitching was completed, he had dropped the needle work again into his lap and reverted to staring at the turquoise ribbon hewn to the fabric. He set the work aside. He slid slowly from the bed, steadying his legs as if testing the weight on them, and stepped to the door. He slid the panel a few inches open and addressed the caller.

"Yes?" the question came as he opened the door.

"Oh. Kurosaki." Just Ichigo.

"So when are you getting your lazy ass out of bed?" His arm was draped above the door frame, leaning into the elbow propped against the doorway. That permanent scowl was etched into his face, but by now the facial expression imprint was a known standard among everyone who knew Ichigo. It also seemed that he ignored the fact that Ishida had to walk over to open the door in the first place.

Ishida almost baulked at his rudeness. Almost. Uryuu was the master of nonchalance.

"I was resting." came the curt reply.

"Well, I think that you've had enough bed rest. How about some sparring?"

Had Ichigo gone insane? "I refuse." Uryuu plainly stated.

"Why? Oh, I see. Your hands must be still pretty banged up. I guess you're just not capable of a decent battle…well, maybe except target practice." The smirk on his face patronized him and added a spark to an already combustible Quincy. That tone in his voice was infuriating at the least. It consisted of the simple combination of sarcasm and truth, but its potency was enough to make Uryuu's skin crawl.

Somehow Ichigo was an expert at getting to him.

"Or better yet, I'll get the extra practice in, for the next time I have to save your ass. Go ahead and rest, dear princess; I'm sorry to have disturbed you." A grin only added to the incriminating statement.

In a flash, the telltale blue and white Quincy cloth was affixed and Uryuu stood, his arms crossed over his chest. Glasses slid against the bridge of his nose as he spoke.

"You have no idea of the meaning." His stoic expression was just as statuesque as his pose.

A nod of understanding was shared between them as they left the partitioned room. Ichigo popped the soul candy into his mouth and claimed his shinigami form. There was business to attend.

(Earlier that day...)

"You want to what?" Urahara asked from the dark underside of his hat. His grey eyes sparkled in the mask of darkness, pointedly at the scheme brought to his attention.

"You heard me right, Hat-and-Clogs." Ichigo's telltale frown turned up at the corners of his mouth. "What do you think?"

"Well, Ichigo – It's kind of soon to tell. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to knock him around a bit." His fan waved lazily from side to side below his face, lightly wafting through the blond curled hair. "But you know me; I did the same thing to you." A happy smile lit up Urahara's face, much to the dismay of Ichigo.

"Yeah…I remember." Melancholy hovered in his statement; not too long ago Ichigo was a test subject of the ten day Urahara training regiment. Nightmares plagued him for months after the ordeal. Sometimes he could still feel the sickly white goo that expelled from every crevice of his face, slowly corroding and choking him, locking his visage in an eternal black tomb of a hollow's mask…

"Whatever." shaking off the image. "I think Ishida needs to break out of his slump. It's already been two days and he hasn't cracked one insult." It was amusing that there was a measurement for Uryuu's behavior.

"I don't see why that should bother you. Maybe he's finally warming up to you." Urahara's grin couldn't be wider.

"Hell no. So, can we use the underground facility?" he avoided the jovial expression.

"I don't see why not. On one condition." he announced, shifting slightly on the pillow at his feet.

"What's that?" An eyebrow shot up in interest.

"No more chasms." Urahara winked as he tapped his cane. Ichigo was fairly certain he knew what that meant.

The fan lazily resumed its speed as Ichigo turned to leave Urahara's office. This could be interesting, Urahara noted to himself.

The expanse of the training facility seemed to have been doubled since the last time he was down here. Was it just his imagination? The hard rocky surroundings remained as desolate as ever and seemed a rather foreboding area. That posed as no problem at all – after all, it was a training ground and should provide the maximum capability for tactical battles. Which just happened to be mountains of rocks.

"So, are you ready, Uryuu?" maintaining his ceaseless smirk.

Before returning a comment, Ishida checked over himself mentally. It had been a couple days, and this encounter was his first at attempting any bit of spiritual exchange. Did he really feel ready to involve himself in combat? The wounds on his hands were healing, but still tinged with soreness. He mused that firing arrows may be a bit painful, but that he could manage.

"Well? Are you stalling?" Ichigo took a moment to reflect on his plan. Indeed, Uryuu wasn't acting like himself the last few days, but it was more than that. He was pretty lame at picking up reiatsu to begin with, but ever since the day Uryuu pointed out his own he tried to remember what Ishida's spiritual signature felt like.

Over the last two days, he hadn't felt anything from Ishida at all.

"That's impossible, Ichigo," Urahara had chided. "You're just not focusing."

"Like hell I am." he protested.

There was one way to find out. Kurosaki was the best at what he does.

Hopping up and down in frustration he cat-called to the Quincy. "Hey, stop ignoring me! Are you just going to make me stand here all day!?" That strange interpretive dance again.

Chance presented itself so easily to Uryuu. The pent up aggravation spoke clearly inside his mind. What are you waiting for? Now is the opportunity to get back at him.

Wait. Get back at him for what exactly? Saving him? He seemed fairly certain he should be doing the opposite for a rescuer.

Knight in shining armor, more like. Didn't he call me a princess?

The analogy burned his cheeks. Slowly, he drew his arm up, the silver cross dangling and glinting in the artificial light of the chamber. Slowly, he coaxed the spiritual energy that he knew so well. "Alright, Kurosaki."

Like the pilot light catching flame to gas igniters, Uryuu's spiritual energy ebbed out and surrounded him, encasing him in a wraithlike flame. Finally Ishida's power had surfaced, and Ichigo smiled in contentment. Even he could feel that presence.

He could feel it even more as an arrow sliced past his ear.

"Not bad," Ichigo dodged and rolled to the side. "but you're attacking an unarmed man."

"I thought you said you were ready, Soul Reaper. Why don't you stop the chit chat and defend yourself!" His stance did not waiver – he feet remained firmly planted on the ground.

Ichigo inwardly noticed that Ishida was starting to sound like his old self again. It was almost comforting to know – before another arrow sliced to the right of his shihakusho. "HEY!" he exclaimed, smelling the burnt fibers that wafted to his nose.

At that instant, Ichigo's zanpakuto was in his hands as he dodged this way and that, growing ever nearer to the Quincy. "I'm just getting started!" was the cry as he deftly rolled past several arrows projected toward him, slicing outward and up.

Hah! Ichigo grinned. The blade went wide as he felt it cut through the air. It was fast; almost too fast, for Ishida's eyes widened at the sight of the blade.

Something was wrong. The soul reaper pulled the strike back with help from Zangetsu. Why hadn't he dodged fast enough? Quincy, he knew, had a more accessible type of flash step and Uryuu never hesitated using it. So what happened? Maybe he overestimated Ishida's healing ability.

Uryuu jumped backward to avoid the blade. It barely missed, just nicking the underside of his chin in the process. Inside, he knew he could move faster than this. It had nothing to do with Ichigo's spirit power; that remained relatively the same. The shinigami hadn't even focused the full extent of his shikai yet, and Uryuu felt as though he moved like a slug.

What's wrong with me? Uryuu gritted his teeth. I know I can do better than this, injured or not. The mental voice quieted his rising panic, his heart rate retuned to normal. I just have to focus, it said.

Ichigo remained quiet; it seemed that whatever just occurred, Ishida was making sure it wouldn't happen again. Grasping the sword hilt, he stayed prepared for the retaliation he knew was coming.

"You won't get another chance, reaper. Consider that a gift." An icy cold stare from those dark blue pools confirmed the statement, and he didn't bother to wipe the blood from his wound before setting an onslaught of arrows towards Ichigo. From the shaft of the bow it appeared as one, which dispersed into a cascade of projectiles, showering toward Ichigo.

Ichigo did what any sane person would do.

He hid behind a rock.

That reaction was definitely better timed than the first, Ichigo thought. Even Ishida's spiritual pressure felt more like normal. Now he should be able to spar properly, Ichigo thought. Carefully peeking around the corner, he searched for the white uniform on the desolate landscape.

"Are you looking for me?" A voice from behind prickled the hairs on his neck as he realized the importance. The rock exploded as he jumped clear, looking back at the smoldering pile and a telltale smirk of a Quincy. Soon another bolt seared toward him, sizzling the air around it as it flew in fast pursuit.

Ichigo brought himself around in mid-air to swat the arrow away with his zanpakuto. Chalking the small victory in his mental tally, he smiled. This was more like it.

The next exchange in both of their thoughts couldn't have been better. Uryuu, now dodging the formidable opponent with jumps and flash steps, fired volleys of arrows to the quick, ever moving Ichigo. Kurosaki sidestepped, zanpakuto following his body movements like an extension of his hand. Circling around and down with the sword cut, the Quincy phased in – the blade passed him – and back, sending an arrow point blank toward the back of Ichigo's head. Keeping time with his momentum, Ichigo followed the sword down and flipped over the hilt of the blade, buried now in the dirt. Smoke and debris showered both of them as the projectile hit the ground.

As the dust cleared, they both remained still; breathing heavily, locked in an unwavering gaze. Their stances indicated they were ready for anything from their opponent, with no sign of weakness. Simultaneously, they expressed the same greedy smile of anticipation; this duel was turning out to be more fun than either had expected. Unmoving, they faced off against each other, each in their own measured pose.

Battle has advantages over emotions; only instinct and rational behavior belong, everything else is trivial: Mind and body, as if moving together as one, within a single purpose. Defend and attack. Uryuu felt his body ease into the action of sparring; there was an indescribable sense of effortlessness as fatigue melted away; he compelled to exert just a little more.

Ichigo's eyes widened, a pause that lasted a split second before

a violent explosion of projectiles from the Quincy ensued.

A pulse.

How did you like it? Please Review! BTW, that last sentence is broken up to create the 'pulse' feel so it's supposed to be like that. Let me know if you got that feeling.

I'm trying to get more descriptive, let me know if it's effective or not.