An AU where everyone has wings but they’re hidden unless willingly shown. Most people leave them out with pride, but some hide them away. Because each feather is a thought someone has had about you where they were thinking of nothing but you, and to some, this is a beautiful experience.
For Kisuke, his wings have screamed of Aizen’s obsession for a century, and he had learned how to consciously turn his own thoughts away from adding feathers to others. Because the idea of Aizen wearing his thoughts was nauseating.
And then he met Erich.
chershare
Kisuke hid a smile behind his fan as he watched the teens tumble from the gate into midair, their panicked and confused shouts both hilarious and reassuring—
(They’d survived.)
(They’d survived, they’d survived, they’d survived…!)
—especially as they were caught in a rug and batted towards Tessai who spilled them out atop Kisuke’s flying carpet. He needed to apologize to them all — especially to Kurosaki — but in this brief, wonderful moment he could simply watch and enjoy.
Movement from the gate made Kisuke jerk back around, staring up at the stranger who strode from the closing gate and then stood there, his sharp eyes scanning the scene and one corner of his mouth quirking up into an amused smile. His gaze caught on Kisuke and his head tilted slightly, amusement fading and stance shifting into something watchful-wary-thoughtful as his wings flared slightly to make him look bigger.
Kisuke swallowed at the sight, at the sheer array of colors on the man’s wings, a patchwork quilt of bright-beautiful-loving thoughts laid bare for the world to see. His primary feathers were alternating sky and midnight blue, marbled with threads of copper and gold, and the rest of his feathers were equally bright, equally distinct, proof of how many people thought of him — thought well of him — in his life.
(Unlike his own wings.)
(No, don’t think about it.)
The man abruptly twitched, right wing spreading slightly more as the man cast a glance at it, and Kisuke froze at the sight of a feather turning sunshine yellow right in front of his eyes.
(No, oh no, he hadn’t meant to—)
(Damn!)
Kisuke yanked his thoughts back in line. Buried his admiration of the man’s wings deep-deep-deep into the midst of a jumble of thoughts-calculations-plans where it couldn’t stain the man’s beautiful wings.
(No one needed his thoughts directed only at them!)
“Ah, Rerugen-san!” Inoue said cheerfully as soon as she got to her feet and waved at the man overhead. “Come down and meet Urahara-san and the others! They’re the ones that helped us get into Soul Society so we could save Rukia-chan.”
The man nodded slowly and folded his wings, then appeared next to Ishida in a burst in hirenkyaku that Kisuke had to strain to follow.
(A Quincy soul?)
(Fascinating.)
“Maa, find a new friend in Soul Society?” Kisuke asked, trying to figure out how and why the Quincy soul had followed the teens home. The man wasn’t wearing Shinigami garb so he probably wasn’t part of the Gotei Thirteen, but how, then, had he convinced the Shinigami to let him follow the teens back to the Living World?
Ishida shrugged and looked away, his shoulders hunching a bit as he tucked himself closer to Rerugen’s side. “Something like that,” he muttered as Rerugen’s wing partially spread to wrap around him in a protective gesture.
“Rerugen-san is going to teach Ishida-kun!” Inoue announced with a bright-sharp-pointed smile, and Kisuke couldn’t help but admire the technique. She was a bit rough at it, but… well, she was still young and didn’t have quite the… incentive… to do well at it that Kisuke’d had at her age.
(Perhaps he should keep an eye on her, give the occasional bit of advice on how to get her way without seeming to do so.)
(She seemed like she’d be good at it.)
“Is that so?” Kisuke tapped the edge of his fan against his chin as he examined Rerugen again: a warrior for sure, and clearly protective over Ishida—
Kisuke suppressed a frown as he turned his attention to Ishida, trying to figure out exactly why something felt off about the teen. Ishida had always been clever-controlled-certain, but… his lack of presence didn’t feel like control. Especially not next to Rerugen’s own control, so strong that Kisuke could only sense the barest edge of presence from him.
(What had happened in Soul Society?)
(He had hoped…)
(Well, one more thing for him to apologize for, it appeared.)
“It is,” Rerugen answered firmly, his attention fixed on Kisuke, and—
Kisuke tried not to shiver as he felt the tell-tale brush of someone’s thoughts running down his spine and into his right wing, already bracing for the dirty-oily-clinging sensation that Aizen’s obsession always left behind, but… it didn’t come. Instead, it felt like cool water across his back, sluicing away the memory and making his hidden wings feel slightly lighter.
He resisted the urge to reveal his wings, no matter how much he wanted to see what had changed; he refused to let the teens see his wings, refused to show a complete stranger that someone was obsessed with him.
(He’d just have to wait until he was safe in his lab to see.)
(He could wait that long.)
Kisuke took a careful breath, shunted his thoughts aside, and turned his attention to the teens in front of him. They deserved an apology for all he’d forced them through, especially Kurosaki, and he wasn’t going to let a stranger’s presence deter him from doing so.
He went to his knees and leaned forward, head bowed and hat pressed to his chest, and announced, “I’m really… really sorry for… everything.”
Shocked silence met his words, but he forced himself to remain in place, not wanting to face the looks the teens were likely giving him. Sensation rippled down his spine and spread to his hidden wings, proof that he had everyone’s attention, and he swallowed. Squeezed his eyes shut. Knew he’d be spending the night in his lab, obsessing over whatever he could sense from his new feathers.
(He deserved this.)
(He deserved it, he deserved it, he deserved it.)
(He did.)
Kisuke braced himself as Kurosaki’s reiatsu roared to life and the teen stalked forward, uncertain what was to come but knowing he wouldn’t protest whatever the teen chose to do.
“Don’t do that,” Kurosaki growled as he stood over Kisuke. “Don’t bow to me,” he insisted when Kisuke didn’t move. “You did what you could to help us, and we all knew something was up beyond the obvious.”
“You could have died,” Kisuke tried, still not looking up. “I sent you into dangerous territory with little explanation or preparation. I lied to you, led you right into a trap—”
Pain exploded across his cheek, the shock making him jerk to the side and drop his hat. He reached up to touch his stinging cheek with one trembling hand, mind trying to piece together what had happened.
(Kurosaki had… slapped him?)
(That was… less than he’d expected to happen.)
“Done trying to make everything about you?” Kurosaki asked sharply. “We knew what we were getting into,” he said, then huffed when Kisuke made a noise of protest and added, “Okay, we didn’t know exactly what we were getting into, but we knew it was worse than you were making it sound. We’re not ignorant kids, Hat’n’Clogs, we know when things smell rotten.” He clicked his tongue and took a step closer, nudging Kisuke’s side lightly with his leg. “I can’t control how you feel about what you did,” he said more softly than before, “but I can say that none of us blame you. And if you’re apologizing about it, then you probably feel shitty enough to not do it again, right?”
Kisuke swallowed at the forgiveness in Kurosaki’s tone and words. “I can’t promise to always tell you everything—”
“Tch, I wasn’t asking for you to do that,” Kurosaki grumbled as he knelt in front of Kisuke and poked his shoulder. “I don’t want everything,” he said firmly. “I want you to promise that next time something like this happens, you’ll lay out the dangers and your suspicions. And if there’s something you can’t tell us, just say that. We won’t be offended.”
“Maa, if you say so,” Kisuke said as he lifted his head enough to eye Kurosaki warily, wondering exactly how long that permissiveness would remain. Eventually the teen would get tired of Kisuke’s everything, just like everyone else did: Tessai and Yoruichi were the exception, not the rule, after all.
“I do,” Kurosaki said, a stubborn cast to his features that surprised Kisuke not at all. The teen truly was Masaki’s child.
Kisuke gave him a shallow nod and said, “Then I will do my best to do so.”
“Good.” Kurosaki settled back on his heels, a pleased air about him. “Thank you, Hat’n’Clogs.”
Kisuke huffs a laugh and straightens up a bit, fidgeting with his hat and doing his best not to rub at his still stinging cheek. “Well, I suppose if no one else wishes to add anything—” he paused and cast a wary glance over the rest of the teens, waiting for someone, anyone, to speak up. But no one did, not even Rerugen, despite the man watching him intently.
The moment their eyes met, another brush of clear water sensation slid down his spine and settled into his wings, making Kisuke twitch at the unexpectedness of it all.
(Oh, that wasn’t good, that wasn’t good at all.)
(No one thought kind things about him after watching him apologize.)
“Ah, well, as I was saying!” Kisuke continued with as much cheer as he could, flashing a smile at all the teens to mask his growing discomfort. “If no one has anything else to add, then I suppose it’s time to head home!”
(The sooner he could tuck himself away in his lab, the better.)
(He needed to see, needed to know—)
(Just a little longer.)
(He could wait.)
(He could.)