Warnings for: Blood, death, ruthless Urahara, thoughts of genocide

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Kaito’s reiatsu vanished.

Kisuke drove his blade through the Quincy soldier, no longer interested in toying with his prey.

His son was missing from his senses.

He snarled. Barreled through the Quincy around him. Hurled a kido at a Quincy that looked at him. Fought his way across the battlefield.

Benihime keened in his mind, high and brutal and furious. A Queen fearing the destruction of her Favored. A Queen promising Vengeance upon the world.

(He would watch the world burn without remorse. Tear it down and salt the ashes. He would destroy everyone who had a hand in destroying his son.)

Yoruichi landed atop a Quincy. Snapped his neck. Kept pace, kept fighting at his side. Together they tore across the distance, homing in on where they last sensed Kaito.

By the time they reached him, Kaito was on his knees, glaring up at the Quincy standing and monologuing above him. His hair was dyed red with blood, kimono hanging from his body in tatters, open wounds bleeding freely.

Shiro’s vaunted healing was doing nothing.

(Kisuke was going to destroy every Quincy in existence, down to their very souls. Only Uryuu would escape the purge.)

(He doubted Kaito or Uryuu would miss Ryuuken anyway.)

Yoruichi yowled in fury, shunko flaring to life as she tackled the Quincy and set them both tumbling away.

“Bankai! Kannonbiraki Benihime Aratame!” Urahara skid to a stop, stomach sinking further at the way his son continue to glare straight ahead. Benihime’s bankai rose around him, around them, and not once did Kaito’s gaze shift.

Benihime keened her fury to the sky. Gathered Kaito to her breast. Poured her power through him. Kaito gasped and writhed, wounds stitching closed in the wake of Benihime’s skill. A stopgap. A way to keep their sons alive.

“Dad..?” he whined softly, his gaze unfocused and his hand reaching, reaching, reaching. Fingers fluttering through empty air, searching for someone he couldn’t see but hoped was there.

“I’m here,” Kisuke said, helpless and furious and so, so gentle as he reached up and caught his son’s hand. His son couldn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him. But he was still spirit enough to hold, and that… that would have to be enough. Until whatever that Quincy did could be reversed. Killing the bastard should work.

Kaito’s gaze shifted. Focused on his hand, caught in an invisible grip. His fingers flexed around Kisuke’s hand, confirming what he felt was real. The fight went out of him: body slumping in Benihime’s grip, eyes slipping closed, breath slipping free in a relieved sigh. “Power stealer,” Kaito whispered. “Did… somethin’ t’Shiro. Can’t… anything. Anything. Dad it hurts…”

“I’ll fix everything,” Kisuke growled, promise and threat and frigid certainty settling into his bones at the words.

(He would raze the Quincy to the ground. He would purge their very existence from the world. Never again would one of these monsters touch his son.)

“How touching,” a mocking voice cut in. Pulled Kisuke’s attention from his son. “But I wonder how good you are at protecting that deadweight while you fight for you life.”

Kisuke bared his teeth. Gently laid Kaito’s hand atop his chest. Stepped away and turned to face the dead-man walking. Benihime’s power rippled through his body. Changed him. Strengthened him.

“Why don’t we find out,” Kisuke said casually, settling Benihime’s blade in his dominant hand, a kunai in his free one. “Since you were so kind as to volunteer.”

“Be careful, dad…”

Kisuke’s lips thinned at his son’s words. Kaito still couldn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him. But still knew that Kisuke was going into battle. Still worried and fretted in the grip of a bankai he couldn’t see, too weak to stand on his own.

Still trusted that Kisuke would protect him.

“I’m feeling generous,” Kisuke proclaimed, ice in his veins and Benihime’s fury feeding his own. “I won’t even torture you.”

The Quincy laughed, high and mocking and so, so confident.

It was the last noise he ever made.