The men are in a better state than he expected, Erich finds as he leads Urahara and Alexis through the camp, checking in with NCOs as he goes. They are exhausted and tired and disillusioned but they’re also smiling at him as he and Urahara and Alexis pass, hopeful-happy-kind, like the fact that he has his soulmates next to him is enough, is case for celebration and…

Maybe he even understands where they’re coming from.

(If his soulmates being around are enough to boost morale…)

(Well, there are many things he’ll tolerate to keep his men from turning traitor.)

(Keeping a Reaper at his side is dangerous, but Urahara is hardly the most objectionable person he’s had to keep close to hand.)

News travels fast through the camp, racing ahead of them and drawing the curious; it doesn’t take long for everyone to realize that Urahara can’t speak Imperial, and even less time for everyone to realize that he’s doing his best to learn as he goes. Soon, it’s not just Alexis teaching Urahara while Erich is busy, it’s everyone, though at least they have the sense to not speak over one another.

Still, it’s more attention than Urahara seems to have expected, and Erich can sense surprise-awkwardness-uncertainty creeping through their connection.

“I can tell them to leave,” Erich murmurs as he turns away from one of his very amused sergeants and to Urahara. “They’ll go if I say.”

Urahara laughs and rubs at the back of his head, smile shading towards embarrassment as he says, “No, no, it’s fine. It’s probably not the best way to learn, but… their enthusiasm is good to see.”

Erich arches an eyebrow but concedes the point; he doesn’t actually know how closely Urahara had observed them before, but this current diversion is probably doing more for morale than anything has for months. Still, Urahara isn’t a trained performer and this isn’t a show; he has no qualms about chasing his men back to their duties the second it becomes too much. “Let me know when you want a break.”

“I will,” Urahara promises with a nod, then darts a glance towards the waiting sergeant and asks, “How is it going?”

“Not too bad. We’ll manage,” Erich settles on after a moment’s thought. He doesn’t have the words to explain the mingled relief and despair at the knowledge that they aren’t going to stand and fight, that they have a place to retreat, a place to hide and heal and survive that no one expects them to have.

It hurts what little pride they have left, but it’s also a relief to know that there’s an end in sight, even if only for them.

(The war may stretch on, may demand more blood be spilled, but this…)

(This is his declaration of surrender.)

(It makes him — makes all of them — traitors to the Empire, but…)

(He suspects there won’t be an Empire for much longer.)

Urahara steps close enough that their shoulders brush, hand ghosting against Erich’s, and murmurs, “If it comes to it, I will make sure that you and your wife and as many of your men as possible survive.”

Erich hesitates, remembering the sight of Urahara ruthlessly cutting down an entire platoon, then slowly nods. “Only if necessary,” he answers, even as something settles hard-sharp-cold in his heart.

(He hopes it never comes to it, hopes he never has to rely on the graces of a Reaper to survive, but…)

(He no longer has the energy to protest.)

(He wants to live.)

A breath, another, and he gathers the edges of his composure once more, nudging Urahara back towards Alexis and the crowd of soldiers watching them. “Go on, I have work to do still.”

Urahara moves back, swaying as if shoved instead of nudged, and laughs bright-cheerful-playful at the look Erich gives him for his dramatics. “I’m going, I’m going. Just don’t laugh too hard at the mangled vocabulary I learn from this!”

Erich snorts. “You’ll figure it out,” he tells Urahara dryly, then pointedly turns back to his sergeant. “My apologies for the interruption. Where were we?”

The man smirks and adjusts his cap, using the gesture to shield a pointed eyebrow waggle from the rest of his men. “Oh, don’t worry about it, General. Always good to see the brass enjoying themselves.” Before Erich can do more than narrow his eyes, the man sobers and tips his chin towards the cheerful, engaged group of soldiers merrily teaching Urahara some barely appropriate words. “That young man’s the sort of distraction they need right now, right alongside us getting the hell out of this situation. You’ve handed us both in quick succession, sir. A few moments of interruption in the safety of camp is frankly worth it.”

Erich’s lips thin as he ruthlessly quashes the tangle of emotions that try to rise at the sergeant’s words; he already knows everything the man is saying, so why does hearing it feel… different?

(It must be his exhaustion amplifying things.)

(He doesn’t need reassurance from his subordinates!)

“Regardless, we both have other duties to attend to,” Erich says once he’s certain he has himself under control, then allows himself a brief smirk and an arched eyebrow as he continues, “And I wouldn’t want to, ah… limit my soulmate’s vocabulary, now would I?”

The sergeant barks a laugh. “Well, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that, sir. Here’s where we stand…”

***

The rest of the afternoon passes in a whirlwind of meetings and introductions that all go… fairly similarly. Erich checks in with his NCOs and makes sure everyone knows that Urahara is his, and the men get a chance to gawk at their General’s second soulmate.

(He just wishes there were a few less… admiring comments where he can hear.)

(He doesn’t need any help acknowledging that Urahara is easy on the eyes.)

The squads seem to have taken it upon themselves to see who can teach Urahara the most words, inappropriate or otherwise, and the man barely gets a moment to breathe as they move between platoons.

Still, he holds up well, playing along with the soldiers and clearly learning more from the interactions than just the haphazard collection of words he’s being taught. His accent is atrocious, but Erich can’t exactly throw stones either; so long as they can understand him, fluency can come later.

(It’s a scatter-shot education, but the best way to learn a language is to be surrounded by it.)

(This certainly counts as being surrounded by it.)

They retire to his tent as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, food in hand, and settle around his desk to eat. Silence descends, accented by the click of utensils on plates, and Erich… Erich doesn’t know how to break it.

He owes Urahara conversation, owes all of them a chance to get to know each other, but exhaustion is dragging at his shoulders and he can barely force his food down even though his stomach doesn’t ache any longer.

He knows he has made the right decision, the only decision, but… it goes against all his training as an officer.

(He is committing treason.)

(He is committing treason and it’s the best option available to him.)

“You…” Urahara starts to say in Imperial, then fumbles for a moment, grimaces, and reverts to Akitsugo, “You’re worried. Is there anything I can help with?”

Erich gives up on finishing his food and sets it aside, ignoring the concerned looks his half eaten plate gains him from both Alexis and Urahara. He’ll eat something later. “‘You are worried’,” he says slowly, pointedly, trying to give Urahara the words the man is missing; emotions and actions were not things he heard his men teaching often throughout the day, so it makes sense that Urahara doesn’t have that many ways to speak sentences yet. From the way Urahara’s eyes light up and he mouths the sentence a few times, Erich figures the man understands what he’s doing. “I… am. This plan is…” he pauses, uncertain how to say ‘treason’ in Akitsugo, then sighs and settles on, “I could be killed for it.”

Urahara stills, concern-worry-determination rising through their bond. “I won’t let that happen.”

“I go against my country’s will,” Erich points out sharply, uncertain how to react to Urahara’s promise but absolutely certain that the small twist of relief is not how he should be reacting.

“I saw that map,” Urahara says as he nudges his own plate aside and leans forward over the desk. “Rerugen-san, the only other viable plan I could come up with is if I deal with all your enemies myself.”

“That won’t do any good!” Erich snaps, then sits back and turns his head away, pinching the bridge of his nose as he collects himself. Alexis leans into his side a bit, pressing comfort-trust-love down their bond, and it helps, it does, but not enough. “Sorry, love,” he murmurs once he’s certain he won’t snap at her. “We’re… discussing the implications of the plan to retreat, and he suggested allowing him to take out the platoons around us.”

Alexis hums and takes his free hand, lacing their fingers together. “The only thing that will do is breed more hatred,” she says softly, grimly, with all the confidence that came from learning the history of the Quincy. “And it won’t do anything for the other fronts. Or for the civilians who are starving.”

Urahara watches them with sharp eyes, and Erich is uncomfortably reminded that he doesn’t actually know how much of their words the man understands.

“The war is… larger than this small area,” Erich settles on, then tugs his hand free from Alexis grip and stands, absently gesturing for the other two to remain where they are as he moves to one of his packs and begins to dig. It doesn’t take long to pull out his map of the Empire, and Alexis swiftly clears their dishes away once she sees what he has in his hands.

“What’s this?” Urahara asks as he stands up to get a better look at the map that Erich unfolds across his desk. He scans the paper, understanding coming as he spots the small patch of border that their large planning map covered in more detail. “How much ground does this cover…?”

“My entire country plus a bit of nearby countries,” Erich explains, then reaches out and taps his fingers against the map in two spots. “Where we are now, and where we’ll be in about three days.” Seeing that Urahara understands, he sweeps his fingers down the Rhine front, then traces the other borders that have active combat happening on them. “The fighting is everywhere along these lines.”

Urahara stares at the map, eyes narrowed and lips thinning the more he grasps the situation they’re all part of them. Finally, he huffs and leans back, shaking his head and fidgeting with the hem of one sleeve as he says, “I had no idea… and everywhere is like this?”

Erich hesitates a moment and glances at Alexis, asking, “Have you heard anything from other fronts? Communication is neither reliable nor common these days.”

“Last I heard from… certain sources—” deserters, Erich is certain she means— “the northern front is in disarray, the eastern is practically dissolving, and we’ve lost almost all of our stormtroopers in the southern part of the Rhine Front.”

It’s… worse than he expected to hear, if he’s being honest; loss of life and being pushed back he can understand, but dissolving? Disarray? All of their assault units gone?

It’s unfathomable.

(A part of him isn’t surprised in the slightest.)

(Their strategy has begun to suffer more and more as the war goes on.)

“It is, then,” Urahara concludes before Erich can muster the energy to translate. He glances down at the map one last time, then slowly moves around the table to Erich’s free side. “We talk of other things,” he says, accent strong but understandable. “Better things?” he suggests with a tiny, tired grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Erich grimaces at the wisps of hopelessness-uselessness-resignation that he catches from Urahara before the man manages to shove those emotions back under trust-care-loyalty. “This isn’t your problem to solve,” Erich reminds Urahara pointedly, even as he folds away the map and sets it to the side. “This is larger than one man can fix. My country made the problem, you didn’t.”

“I want to help,” Urahara says almost plaintively, hand reaching out to brush his fingers against Erich’s wrist again.

Erich wavers, his inherent mistrust of Shinigami warring with his growing desire to trust Urahara, then sighs and catches Urahara’s fingers in a brief grasp. “Help us escape, then,” he murmurs as he turns away and catches Alexis’ gaze. “Can I…” he trails off and simply gestures towards her hair, hoping that she’ll catch on.

(It’s been years since he’s had a chance to simply relax and braid his wife’s hair.)

(He doesn’t even know how to ask anymore…)

“Of course you can,” Alexis says immediately, reaching up to tease free the end of her braid. “Standing or sitting?”

Erich glances around at his tent for a good place for them to work, then gives up and just nods towards his cot. “If you sit down on that I should be able to work easily enough.”

Urahara follows them the couple of steps to Erich’s bed, curiosity sketched across his face as he awkwardly settles on the far corner and watches how Alexis pulls off her boots and sits cross-legged atop the cot with her back to Erich. “This is called…?”

“Braids,” Erich says as he taps a finger against one of Alexis’ braids, then unravels a few inches of it and holds it up so Urahara can see the way he crosses the strands of hair back over each other. “Braiding,” he says, doing a few more loose passes to demonstrate.

Urahara laughs, soft-awkward-wistful, and flashes him another bright mask of a smile. “Thank you. Do you… should I…?”

“Stay,” Alexis tells Urahara before Erich can answer. “You’re our third. We should act like it.”

Urahara flounders at her words, and Erich quickly translates before the man can feel any more out of place. “You should stay. We need to get to know each other.”

“I… thought you didn’t want to…”

Erich carefully breathes out as he focuses on unraveling Alexis’ braid for a moment. “You… frighten me,” he settles on, internally wincing at the level of honesty he’s giving to a potential threat. But Alexis is right, they need to start acting like the man is their third if they want it to work out, which means they need to be honest. “You… you’re a threat to me and mine, but… you’re also my soulmate. I want to… I want to trust that you aren’t a threat but…”

“Part of you doesn’t believe it,” Urahara finishes for him. “I should probably lea—ah!” He starts back, hand darting up to catch the little ‘pebble’ of hardened spiritual power that Erich had flicked at his forehead. He stares at it in wonder, thumb tracing over the smooth surface, and when he glances up at Erich his eyes are wide with delighted questions. “I knew Quincy could manifest their weapons, but this is—”

“A child’s trick,” Erich tells the man dryly, amused by Urahara fascination with such a basic ability. “I’ve been doing it forever.” He shakes his head and focuses for a moment on running his fingers through Alexis’ hair, carefully untangling any knots he finds as he finger-combs it out. “Leaving will just… prolong our fear,” he admits after a moment. “I… we need to get to know you. We have barely three days before we have to defend you to our people. We… we can’t be afraid if we want this to go well.”

Urahara opens his mouth, emotions rippling back towards the same pervasive defeat as earlier and—

Erich flicks another ‘pebble’ at the man’s head without taking his hands from Alexis’ hair. “Stop that,” he orders with a scowl. “I told you our answer.”

Urahara ducks his head, mouth curling up in a tiny, pleased smile, even as he examines the second ‘pebble’ next to the first. “They… same?” he tries, then holds up the ‘pebbles’ between his fingers in demonstration.

“They always are the same,” Alexis answers with amusement. “Erich found a pebble that skips perfectly when he was little and memorized how to duplicate it.”

“Lexi!” Erich yelps in protest, tugging lightly at her hair as he feels his cheeks heat; said so plainly, his reasoning for the choice is ridiculously childish. At Urahara’s questioning look, Erich wrinkles his nose and pointedly stares at the back of Alexis’ head as he mutters, “When I was young, I learned one form, because that one skips well on water.”

His words startle a laugh from Urahara, and Erich relaxes a bit at the sense of happiness radiating off of the man.

(Well, maybe it’s not so bad to tell the man such ridiculous things if it can get honest amusement from him…)

(It’s still embarrassing though!)

“We share… stories?” Urahara asks hesitantly, looking between the two of them almost warily. “Better things than now.”

Erich hesitates as he smooths Alexis’ hair down and begins to split it into bundles, thinking over Urahara’s offer. “Simple braid for tonight and a crown braid in the morning, love?” he asks softly, getting back a gentle sensation of agreement-contentment-peace from her which is good enough for him. He gets to work on the simple braid, taking his time instead of speeding through it like he usually does; sharing stories is a good idea, but he’s going to have to be the translator and he doesn’t know how well he can translate between them.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Alexis offers, one hand reaching up to touch his elbow, making his soulmark tingle at the proximity. “We can take turns, it’ll be fun,” she says, then flashes a smile at Urahara that makes him duck his head and fiddle with the two ‘pebbles’ again.

“Fun for someone not me,” Erich mumbles, then huffs and tickles the back of Alexis’ neck with her hair when she laughs at him. “I don’t know how well I can translate,” he tells her, then glances at Urahara and repeats himself in Akitsugo.

“Maa, you’ll do fine,” Urahara says with a small smile. “We’ll both get some practice in!”

“I suppose we will,” Erich agrees as he uses a thin piece of cord to tie Alexis’ braid off and then reaches out to drag a chair closer. “Alright,” he says as he positions himself so he can easily look at both of his soulmates. “Who wants to start?”

Alexis turns around to sit facing both of them, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she says, “I think I will!”

Erich groans and presses a hand to his face, already suspecting what she’s going to say. “Please don’t make them all about me!”

“How about mostly?” she asks with fake innocence so strong that Urahara starts to snicker.

He sighs and waves her on, unable to resist a smile at her bright-cheerful-happy laughter.

(Maybe this won’t be so bad…)

(But he’s definitely not letting her off the hook.)

(Alexis isn’t the only one with embarrassing stories to tell, after all!)