Uryuu woke to the sound of quiet voices, his head resting on something soft and a blanket draped across his body. His body ached and it took far too much effort to roll onto his side to squint towards the voices.

A golden barrier surrounded them entirely and Uryuu could see a Shinigami just outside of it. And on his side…

A war-formed Dragon knelt, long tail sweeping slowly from side to side and wings folded closed. His scales were scuffed and nicked with age and colored a deep blue like the ocean, and he had long black horns that jutted back from his skull. A long black mane ran from his head and down the length of his spine, trailing off just beyond the base of his tail.

Crouched as the Dragon was, he looked dangerous, poised to strike at the Shinigami just beyond the barrier. His hind claws were dug into the soil and his hands were resting easy, fingers curled just enough to hint at a threat.

Uryuu had never seen anything like it outside of sketches. Both his sensei and Ryuuken had kept to their human forms all his life. They’d always said that the Living World was no place for Dragons anymore. That there was no point in paying attention to that heritage.

And yet this Dragon had approached him as a full dragon, not a human. Had killed a Shinigami without hesitation and then talked him through undoing what the Sanrei Glove had done—

The Sanrei Glove!

Uryuu squeezed his eyes closed and curled in on himself, biting back a whimper at the pain. He’d pulled off the glove, forced his body through unexpected agony, and all for nothing!

(He’d traded his powers for nothing!)

Large hands pulled him up and tucked him against a broad, scaled chest. Fingers tipped with sharp claws combed through his hair. “Shh, shh, you’re alright. You’re safe. I have you. You’re safe,” the Dragon crooned, wings rustling. The light dimmed around them, blocked by the Dragon’s wings arcing to shield them from view.

He was… warmer and softer than Uryuu expected. Most of his chest was covered with small, overlapping scales instead of the great plates that Uryuu had seen in so much artwork. It was… unexpectedly nice.

But it was never to be his. He’d had his chance and destroyed it—

“Slow your breathing for me, hatchling. Follow my own breaths and focus on me,” the Dragon urged, tapping the tip of Uryuu’s nose with the back of a claw. “There’s nothing to worry about. I healed you before the damage could set, then placed a small ward around your powers to allow your body to finish healing.”

Uryuu swallowed and hesitantly lifted a hand to press it against the Dragon’s chest, fingers spread. He could feel the tiny nicks and chips in the fine scales beneath his hand. Could feel the steady rise and fall of each breath. Hear the Dragon’s slow heartbeat in his ear. Smell the clinging scent of rain and smoke.

He focused on his senses. On the Quincy who had saved him. Drowned out his terror with the feel of his savior.

(Of being protected.)

“There we are. Very good. Very, very well done.” The Dragon combed his fingers through Uryuu’s hair soothingly. “How are you feeling?”

Uryuu tilted his head into the soothing motions and debated how to answer. If it had been anyone else— but, no. This was a Quincy so old, so comfortable in who he was that he felt no fear or need to hide. He’d saved Uryuu and helped him without question.

Perhaps there was a catch somewhere down the line. Some trick or trap or… or something to justify the other’s interest in him, but…

This was more than Ryuuken had ever done for him.

“Stiff. Sore. It… hurts,” Uryuu admitted.

“There’s little I can do to hurry that along,” the Dragon apologized, “I can prevent the loss of your abilities, but I’m no healer beyond emergency aid. Only time or an actual healer can fix the rest.”

“Are… will I actually…”

The Dragon’s arms tightened around him in reassurance. “You will heal and be stronger for this. But please, hatchling, promise me that you will never touch a Leiden Hant again.”

Uryuu shivered at the desperation and pleading in the Dragon’s voice and hastily nodded his agreement against the other’s chest. “Promise. Uhm… I’m— I’m Ishida Uryuu.”

“Well met, Ishida Uryuu. I am Rerugen Erich.”

Rerugen seemed content to allow him to cling however long he’d like, so Uryuu remained curled in the other’s lap with his head tucked against Rerugen’s chest. He was more comfortable than he expected, safe and warm inside the cocoon that Rerugen had made with his body and wings.

(Was this what a father was supposed to be like?)

(Why would Rerugen do this?)

He took a breath and forced those thoughts aside. Dwelling would never get him anywhere. Kurosaki had proven that to him.

(A Quincy. A Quincy who had escaped that monster’s reach.)

His stomach growled.

Rerugen chuckled warmly but didn’t disengage. “I have some food available, if you’d like to eat. A Shinigami brought it, but it’s all safe.”

“You… have Shinigami allies?” Uryuu asked as he reluctantly pulled back from Rerugen’s hold. He squinted up at the other’s face; it was difficult to read Rerugen’s expression, and not just because he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He had a full draconic head with a long, sharp snout and bird-like eyes, completely different from any being Uryuu had attempted to understand before.

It was a wonder Rerugen could even speak human language with a skull like that.

“Needs must. This is his land and he has his own desires that currently align with ours.” Rerugen leaned over and grabbed something, then presented Uryuu with his glasses. “Here. Would you like to meet him?”

“I suppose.” Uryuu checked his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt before putting them back on. Once he could see, he sat back and greedily drank in the clear sight of Rerugen.

(A war-formed Dragon. Come to rescue and protect him.)

Rerugen folded his wings, climbed to his feet, and offered his hand to Uryuu, pulling him upright as soon as he accepted. “He does not seem terribly bad. He’s a Shinigami, but I suppose he’s an acceptable sort.”

“Thank you, Rerugen-san,” the Shinigami seated beyond the barrier said with a soft smile, then inclined his head to Uryuu. “I’m glad to see you feeling better.”

Uryuu eyed the man warily before nodding slowly. “I am.” He wasn’t. Not really. Except he was, because he ached and he hurt but he was himself and Rerugen had promised he would heal, would be fine—

He took a deep breath. Accepted the steamed buns that Rerugen offered him. Settled at Rerugen’s side and began to eat while observing the Shinigami. A shogi board sat in front of him, pieces scattered across it like a game was in progress. Had the Shinigami and Rerugen been playing a game through the barrier while he slept?

“Is there anything more I can do for you?” the Shinigami asked Rerugen.

Rerugen began to shake his head, then paused and glanced down at Uryuu with a considering expression. “Perhaps. Would you happen to have rope or something similar? If I’m to help free your subordinate, I will need both paws free.”

Uryuu quickly swallowed his food. “I could stay here?” he tentatively offered, then winced and looked away when Rerugen’s eyes narrowed sharply. “O-or not…”

Rerugen sighed and curled a wing around Uryuu’s body, pulling him closer. “I’m not angry at you,” Rerugen said firmly, “but that is not an option. You are wounded and unable to defend yourself, and I will not simply leave you alone in enemy territory because it would be convenient.” He brought one paw up and ruffled Uryuu’s hair. “Trust me in this. Our people have been handling situations like these for generations, and I know exactly what I require. It’s simply easier to use physical items to craft the harness with, rather than relying on my ability to produce and maintain another construct during combat.”

“You can do that?” Uryuu couldn’t resist asking. He’d never seen his sensei or Ryuuken produce anything other than their bows; if that wasn’t the limit of their ability, then why..?

Rerugen chuckled softly and — under the fascinated gazes of both Uryuu and the Shinigami — spread his hands and constructed a length of rope out of the reishi in the air. “I can. Many Quincy can, given time and practice.” He let the rope dissolve and dropped his hands back into his lap. “But it takes concentration to maintain.”

“Which you don’t always have to spare in combat,” the Shinigami said with understanding. “Especially if you’re creating other things at the same time.”

“Exactly.”

The Shinigami rose to his feet and inclined his head. “I’ll return shortly with some more supplies then.”

Uryuu watched the man turn away and start walking towards the house in the distance. It was surreal, being here on a Shinigami Captain’s property with another Quincy, talking peacefully and getting aid from that Shinigami.

(Rerugen had listened to him. Had stayed within Seireitei instead of taking him far, far away from Kurosaki and the others.)

(Oh, he hoped the others were still okay…)

He ran the backs of his fingers over the soft leather membrane of Rerugen’s wings, enjoying the velveteen softness of it. He was almost surprised when Rerugen didn’t pull away from his touch, only twitched his wing a bit to spread his wing-fingers out a little more. “Are you… really going to help us?” Uryuu asked softly.

“Of course.” Rerugen made it sound like there had never been another option. That he hadn’t almost taken Uryuu away from everyone he cared about. “Your hoard wants to save Kuchiki Rukia. That’s enough for me.”

“But why?!”

“I’m a Clan Head without a clan. Permit me the indulgence of aiding those younger than myself one last time?”

Uryuu stared up at Rerugen in surprise. A Clan Head without a clan, wanting to help—

(What would it have been like, to grow up with this man around instead of Ryuuken?)

Rerugen reached out. Brushed away a few tears Uryuu hadn’t felt fall. Drew Uryuu into another hug and wrapped his wings tight around them both. Crooned low in his throat and gently rocked them both.

Uryuu slumped into Rerugen’s hold. Pressed his face into Rerugen’s chest. Let himself believe for just a moment that everything would turn out fine.

(Let himself pretend that someone cared.)