Uryuu woke to warmth, a taloned hand combing through his hair, and his body tucked into someone’s side. He woke to the sensation of safety and kindness and care lodged in his chest, radiating from his soul, and he took a moment to bask in the feelings.

(It was a wonderful dream.)

(He never wanted to wake.)

“Wakey wakey lil thief!” a harsh voice cawed from just above his head.

“Shiro, enough!”

Uryuu twitched and curled tighter into the warmth, bringing his hands up to cover his ears. If he didn’t listen… if he didn’t move…

The body he was resting against sighed and held him closer. “It’s alright, Uryuu-kun. That pest is just Shiro, one of my zanpakutou spirits.”

“‘That pest’ still ain’t happy wit’ ya, Aibo,” the harsh voice continued. Feathers ruffled and the speaker shuffled a bit on the headboard. “Kid’s cute ‘nuff, but ya still didn’t ask us, Aibo.”

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry about that, but I wasn’t about to just leave him.”

Uryuu cracked open an eye and peered blearily up at the yokai holding him: fluffy orange hair and sharp brown eyes and a single, fluffy tail…

(Everything he remembered from his dream.)

(Maybe it hadn’t been a dream?)

Ichigo smiled down at him and Uryuu buried his face against Ichigo’s side, trying to hide the blush that rose in reaction. He was being such a baby and he knew it, but the contracts were so warm and he never wanted them to go away—

“Oi, kid, ‘nuff of that,” Shiro grumbled, accompanied by the sound of ruffling feathers and claws scratching against wood. “I ain’t gunna force ‘im ta give ya up. I’m jes… grumpy cause Aibo made a decision without givin’ me’n Zan a chance t’speak up.”

Uryuu slowly lifted his head, gaze drifting up to the strange bird perched on his headboard. “You promise…?”

Shiro ruffled his feathers and looked away, stance stiff and head hunched down a bit. “Aww, c’mon kid, don’t look at me like that,” he said with a huff. “I promise I won’t fight th’contract. Yer teddy bear is safe.”

“I’m not a teddy bear,” Ichigo protested, poking Shiro’s side and making the bird squawk in protest.

“Coulda fooled me,” Shiro muttered, hopping further down the headboard and then up onto the bedpost with a quick flap of his wings. “Fine, fine! Introduce us, Aibo, kid looks like he’s gunna wilt.”

Ichigo hummed and pulled Uryuu closer, tucking him against his side and handing over his folded glasses without having to be asked. “Right then. The travel-sized—”

“I ain’t travel-sized!”

“—feathered pest is Shiro,” Ichigo continued as if Shiro hadn’t shrieked in protest at being called ‘travel-sized’. “And the currently silent, also travel-sized fox perched on the other bedpost is Zangetsu. They’re both portions of my power that I split out in order to keep from hurting other people with how strong I am.”

Uryuu clamped a hand over his mouth and tried desperately not to giggle at the looks Shiro and Zangetsu were aiming at Ichigo. ‘Travel-sized’ wasn’t a descriptor they seemed to like, but… there didn’t seem to be anything malicious about Ichigo’s use of it. Nor did the two actually seem angry, just… exasperated, maybe.

(And Ichigo was right, they were travel-sized.)

(But calling sentient pieces of power ‘travel-sized’ was weird.)

“It’s, uhm… nice to meet you?” he cautiously said as soon as he’d gotten control of his laughter. He leaned around Ichigo in order to get a better look at Zangetsu, taking in the fox’s deep orange fur and the casual way he was perched on the rounded bedpost. “How did you even get up there? Isn’t it hard to sit like that?” he couldn’t resist asking.

Zangetsu’s tail swished lazily through the air, his jaw opening slightly in what looked almost like a grin. “I jumped.”

“He always does shi—eh, stuff like tha’,” Shiro complained as he hopped off his perch and walked across the bed to perch on Uryuu’s knee instead. “Zan’s a brat who acts all cool an’ composed, an’ he’ll never give ya a straight answer ‘bout how he got somewhere. Don’t pay attention t’him.”

“And you are any better?” Zangetsu asked with a sniff, ears flattening to the side. “I seem to recall more than once needing to fetch Ichigo to free you from a place you shouldn’t be.”

Shiro’s feathers fluffed up until he looked like a gigantic black puffball, practically radiating affront, and Uryuu could no longer swallow his giggles. The two of them were so ridiculous, it was hard to keep being afraid of them when they were bantering like kids.

“Tch, there ya go, much better,” Shiro said as his feathers slicked back. He cocked his head to peer up at Uryuu and clicked his beak together. “Ya look like y’ain’t had much t’laugh ‘bout lately.

“I… haven’t,” Uryuu said with a wince, leaning into Ichigo’s side and dragging in a deep, ragged breath. He peered up at Ichigo through his lashes then looked over at Shiro in an attempt to judge if they actually cared or were just playing nice. But for all Shiro had been aggressive and mouthy before, he was watching Uryuu without a trace of that now. “I… I don’t have a teacher anymore, and I want to learn! My grandfather was teaching me everything he knew but he… he died a year ago and… and my fa—and Ryuuken doesn’t want me to have anything to do with being a summoner but I want to learn! I… I want to…”

“We’ll teach you,” Ichigo said, clawed hand ruffling Uryuu’s hair. “I keep my promises.”

Uryuu ducked his head and scrubbed at his eyes, knocking his glasses askew in his effort to make his eyes stop prickling. “Th-thanks,” he murmured.

“You’re ours now,” Ichigo said with a shrug, as if he was stating a simple fact.

(As if his words didn’t make Uryuu’s mouth go dry and chest feel tight, emotions too tangled to process.)

(How long until they grew tired of him…?)

Ichigo’s arm settled around Uryuu’s body and pulled him closer, offering silent comfort that Uryuu couldn’t resist accepting. He leaned into the yokai’s side. Breathed in the scent of feathers and fur.

(It hadn’t been a dream.)

(They cared about him.)

He finally let himself relax.