Erich froze mid-stride, shoulders tensing as the reishi all around rippled. He turned in place, trying to pinpoint the source, and prayed that it wasn’t what he thought it was.

(He’d sensed ripples like that before, caused by young Quincy driven to desperation.)

(He’d hoped that infiltrating Seireitei in the wake of the other ryoka would help to avoid that outcome, damn!)

“You okay?” the Shinigami who’d been guiding him asked, concern on his face. “What—”

A high pitched roar pierced the air, followed by a jagged spike of distinctly Quincy reiatsu, laden with pain and fury. The reiatsu reached out, clawing and prying at the world, trying to tear it all apart with a frantic desperation that Erich recognized, though he wished he didn’t.

Low-level Shinigami around him cringed back and exchanged panicked looks. Even the Shinigami who’d taken to guiding him around looked fearful, hand on the hilt of his blade and eyes wide.

Erich grimaced at the second roar, high and piercing, and at the way several Shinigami began to bolt in response.

“That’s not a Hollow,” his guide said, voice wavering. He swallowed and fixed Erich with a look, barely in control of his own terror. “What the hell— we… we should get out of here. Let the Captains handle whatever it is.”

“Y-yes of course,” Erich forced out, ducking his head and clinging tight to his self-control.

(He needed to escape these Shinigami!)

The instant his guide turned to retreat, Erich let his magic rise to the surface. He suppressed the gleaming formulae that signified Human magecraft and spun out a complex illusion, sending his doppelganger trotting after the Shinigami.

Before anyone could notice the deception, Erich bolted for the rooftops. Spun out another suppressed Human-based spell. Hid himself in shimmering light and masking reishi, then reached within his soul and changed.

Power rippled through his body, his form flaring and melting away, exchanging his human shape for that of a beast out of legend. He spread his wings and flexed his paws, giving himself a shake to settle into his body once more.

(It was tempting to roar. To announce himself to the world, to the Quincy in pain.)

(He clamped his jaw shut and held his tongue.)

(Stealth was his only trump card here.)

Erich flexed his wings, powerful wingbeats driving him further into the sky. He scanned the ground below, pleased with the lack of Shinigami to feel the downdrafts created.

Not that it would matter soon enough — he had no intention of remaining peaceful. Not in the face of a Quincy’s need.

(He was old. Old and powerful and unexpected.)

(Let the Shinigami try their tricks.)

Erich followed the radiating reiatsu back to its source. Took in the scene with a quick glance. Folded his wings back and struck.

The Shinigami jerked, head tilting up and eyes widening, instincts flaring—

The street buckled beneath Erich’s weight, dust and debris flying up and obscuring his sight. Outlining his body to those who knew how to look.

(He didn’t need his sight. Didn’t need his illusions.)

His paws flexed, claws driving deep into the Shinigami’s head and chest. He arched his neck and tilted his head, peering at the body as he pulled his claws free, assuring himself the threat was dealt with.

(Fire burned in his throat, the urge to erase the Shinigami from existence rising—)

(No. He would not antagonize the elder Shinigami for little reason.)

“Wh— what?”

Erich swung his head around to focus on the young Quincy, eyes narrowing at the sight. A pang went through him when the Quincy took a tiny, wary step backwards at his attention, and Erich carefully folded his wings and relaxed his stance, projecting ease.

The young Quincy stood on unsteady paws, a human-style bow manifested in one trembling paw and his mouth slightly open as he took shallow, panting breaths. His too-large wings were half-flared for balance, and his slender tail was held awkwardly away from his body. Even his head was held awkwardly, twisted down and forward at a slightly unnatural angle, the boy clearly unused to his serpentine neck and new point of view.

The Quincy’s horns were tiny stubs with rounded ends, barely visible beyond his shaggy black mane, and his pale blue scales had the soft, velveteen look of hatchling scale — flexible and stronger than human skin, but still incredibly vulnerable to damage.

Everything about the younger spoke of discomfort, and it was painfully obvious how young the boy likely was.

(Far too young to sustain that form. To have even taken it to begin with.)

(Damn his ancestors for inventing the Lieden Hant!)

Movement to his left caught Erich’s attention, and he swung his head back around, neck arching up and wings mantling in threat. A young Shinigami stood in the street, her eyes wide and posture uncertain. She was looking between the body under him and Erich himself, clearly frightened but not backing down.

“Run,” Erich growled, letting his jaw drop open and tongues of blue-white flame to drip between his teeth. When she made no motion to move, Erich snarled and spat a line of flame between she and him, the heat melting the cobblestone almost instantly. “Run,” he repeated. “Before I unmake your soul.”

She flinched away from the flames, pressing back into the wall behind her, but didn’t flee.

Erich narrowed his eyes, then huffed in exasperation; he didn’t have time to continue attempting to chase her off, nor was he particularly interested in destroying her. Not in front of such a young Quincy.

Instead, he arched his neck further and carefully breathed out a line of mana-infused flame, forming a barrier between them. That done, Erich twisted back around to face the young Quincy, taking a careful step towards him. His mantled wings relaxed, and he slowly stretched one out towards the Quincy, wrapping it around the boy and pulling him in towards Erich’s side.

The boy stumbled against Erich’s flank and pressed his muzzle into the softer scales behind Erich’s foreleg. “He didn’t find everyone,” the boy murmured in relief, body trembling. “He didn’t…”

Erich frowned and nudged them a few steps further from the corpse, then curled his body around the boy’s and arced his wings out as a shield. “It’s alright, I’m here. You’re safe,” he reassured, nuzzling the boy. “Can you do something for me? Can you focus inward and try to calm your reiryoku?”

The boy nodded against Erich’s side and took a shuddering breath, his bow dissipating and his now-free paw rising to rest on Erich’s foreleg. He pressed in closer, breathing starting to slow and reiatsu evening out. His form wavered, firefly flickers of light scattering from his body as the effects of Lieden Hant began to fade.

“That’s it, just like that,” Erich said soothingly, wrapping his own reiatsu close. “Let your reiryoku settle. You’re safe. You don’t need to pull anything in.”

With a soft sigh, the boy slumped bonelessly against Erich’s side, his anthropomorphic dragon form melting away to be replaced with his human form. Erich caught the boy with his tail, then lifted his head above his wings to stare thoughtfully at the Shinigami. She remained beyond the wall of fire, observing both the fire and Erich with a thoughtful gaze, but made no motion to approach either.

He needed to leave, before other Shinigami arrived.

“Good, very good,” Erich praised, turning his attention back to the boy. “You did very well.” He smiled at the sleepy murmur of content, then settled on his haunches and carefully moved the boy from his tail to his front paws. “I’m going to get us out of here, alright? There are places I know—”

“N-no,” the boy protested weakly, trying to wriggle free of Erich’s grip. “No. My— they’re here. I can’t just leave— no—”

Erich frowned and adjusted his grip. “Hush, hush. Who is here?”

“Mine. My people.”

“Your people?” Erich cocked his head and considered the boy for a moment. He hadn’t sensed any other Quincy during the break-in, only this one he now held in his paws. If that was the case, then maybe this Quincy was like him? “Are they your hoard?”

The boy blinked, then slowly nodded. “That’s… not weird?”

“Of course not,” Erich reassured. “We all have our preferences, but claiming people is no less common than claiming items. When I was alive, it was even considered a boon for a Clan Head and their mate to claim people, because that often went hand in hand with an increased concern for the Clan’s wellbeing.” He had to wonder if the boy was from one of the rare branches that didn’t believe in such a thing, or if he’d just never run across another Quincy with the same choice of ‘hoard’.

(Had the Quincy clans been reduced so far in the time he’d been dead?)

“Oh…” The boy seemed stumped by that, falling into silence and fidgeting with his sleeve.

“I will not take us from Seireitei, then,” Erich said, angling his head so he could focus on the boy more easily. “I will not take you from your people. But you have injured yourself, and this is no place for the sort of healing I will need to do. Alright?”

The boy grimaced. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

Even with his continued reassurance, the boy eyed him with narrowed, suspicious eyes, clearly expecting him to go back on his word. It made him want to hurt whoever had betrayed the boy’s trust so thoroughly before; that wasn’t just the distrust of a stranger he was being faced with, that was the distrust of people in general.

(A Quincy who claimed people as his… distrusting people.)

(Erich doubted that would end well.)

“Fine,” the boy muttered, turning his head away and closing his eyes. Resigned to his fate and to the idea that Erich would disappoint him.

(Resigned to being taken away from his chosen people.)

(Erich wanted to kill the boy’s caretakers. What in the world were they teaching him?)

Erich tucked the boy a bit closer against his chest scales, balancing carefully on his hind legs as he did. The boy didn’t protest, only sighed and twisted around so his back was pressed against Erich’s chest. A glance back at the wall of fire and a hint of will was enough to extinguish the blaze, and then Erich was free to leave.

He leapt into the sky, powerful wing beats driving him higher. Mana shimmered in his mind’s eye as a human-illusion settled around his body.

Hidden from view, Erich turned on a wingtip and began the exacting task of finding a place to hide, and quickly. He needed to heal the boy before the damage from the Lieden Hant hardened, and for that he needed a place in safety.

(Or even just a place. He was on a deadline, after all. Something was better than nothing.)