The courtyard is cramped, jammed full with every active knight, mage, and prominent fighter in the castle. It’s enough to make Uryuu uncomfortable, standing shoulder to shoulder with people he neither likes nor trusts, but there’s nothing for it. At least his tormentors usually leave him be during gatherings like this, not after the first time one of the elder Swordmasters had caught them at their tricks and called them out.

All three of their Lords stand atop the platform along with several others, every last one of them dressed for war. Even Urahara is there, missing his hat and looking uncomfortable in his scale armor and long overcoat.

Zangetsu-sama is speaking, extolling upon the war and their enemy and the troubles ahead. He’s announcing that it is a war, not just border raids, and how they will advance to crush the enemy who thinks them easy pickings.

Uryuu is certain it’s a rousing speech. Something to sway everyone into a proper mindset — Zangetsu-sama is skilled at rallying people, after all — but Uryuu has eyes only for Shiro.

Shiro’s wild, snow white hair hangs free down his back, his golden eyes alight with anticipation and his right hand resting on the hilt of his signature black-edged sword. He leans over to allow his twin to whisper in his ear and his responding grin is wide and feral. He scans the crowd and for a brief moment Uryuu wants to believe the man is staring at him.

But no. He can’t be. Even after everything, he still remains a nobody to his Lords.

(Doesn’t he?)

(Urahara seems to believe otherwise…)

Little tongues of blue-black flame dance like foxfire over Shiro’s shoulders and down his arms, scattering from his fingertips as he turns back to Ichigo and gestures sharply. Red-black lightning ripples through his hair and brushes across his face, sparking over his circlet and across the beast fangs he wears as earrings.

He looks every inch the terrifying Dark Flier that their enemies fear, and Uryuu can’t help but want.

(’Be bold’ Urahara had said.)

(Dare he?)

Uryuu remains in place as Zangetsu finishes his speech and turns back to stand with his brothers. Everyone around him begins to mill about and group up, gossiping about the war and what they expect, boasting about their prowess and what will come, how thoroughly and swiftly they’ll beat back Hueco Mundo’s army.

He knows it for the empty talk it is. The boldest speakers are those who’ve not seen war, who don’t yet know the horrors that will greet them on the battlefield. They’ve hunted bandits or repelled small raiders, but Uryuu… Uryuu grew up moving from battlefield to battlefield. He knows what it’s like, knows all the ways it’s going to twist so many of those green knights up until they finally make peace with everything.

Uryuu slips through the crowd, making his way towards the platform where the royals remain. He’s surprised that they haven’t left yet, but he’ll take what luck he can get. As it is, he’s still not sure if he has the courage to attempt to speak with Shiro-sama, not in the open like this.

He reaches the edge of the crowd and hesitantly steps forward, moving closer to the platform. He’s not the only one either; several older knights lean against the platform, heads tilted back as they speak with various members there.

Urahara catches sight of his and grins brightly, darting to the edge of the platform and crouching down to be closer to Uryuu’s level. “Fancy seeing you here, Uryuu-kun,” he teases.

“So how much did you get bribed to dress in that get-up?” Uryuu asks, eyeing Urahara’s scale armor and heavy overcoat. The ankle-length coat is elaborate, with golden borders and deep blue shoulder-cape marked with several lengths of braided cord and embroidered sigils.

He’s seen this outfit before, tucked away in a corner of Urahara’s private rooms, but he never expected to see the man wear it. The armor looks custom made but the ankle-length coat is as much a uniform as Uryuu’s own gear is, announcing Urahara’s rank and position for anyone to see.

(He’d thought the man retired from military life long before Uryuu came to the castle.)

“Mou, Uryuu-kun is mean,” Urahara complains with an exaggerated pout. “I wear armor when I need to!”

“Of course you do.” Uryuu smirks up at Urahara. “That’s why you look like you’re going to discard it the moment you get off this stage.”

Urahara smiles wryly and shrugs. “I never said I enjoy it,” he points out with amusement. “The opposite, actually. But our Lords want my expertise on the front lines, so… back in the armor I go.”

Uryuu’s gaze moves to the side to where all three brothers continue to talk. Another person has joined their circle, though he can’t quite tell who without being able to see their face. Whoever it is, Shiro looks restless, constantly shifting his weight and drumming his fingers against the hilt of his sword.

“You could speak with him,” Urahara suggests quietly, amusement dropping away and gaze understanding. “He won’t mind and neither will anyone else up here. Not even Asano-san.”

He wants to say no, wants to simply shake his head and retreat, but Urahara’s words — ‘be bold!’ — keep repeating through his mind. They’re going to war. They’re all going to war and he knows what that means.

(Knows how easy it is for an enemy to get lucky. For either of them to never return.)

“Shiro-sama,” Uryuu calls out, loud enough to be heard by all of his Lords. “My liege, a moment of your time?”

The four pause in their discussion, distracted by his words. Shiro turns and stares at him in surprise and rising fascination, and Uryuu resists the urge to fidget under the man’s attention. Instead, he tips his chin up and meets Shiro’s gaze steadily.

(He wants to hide. Wants to blush and look away.)

(His pride refuses to back down.)

Ichigo laughs and pushes his twin towards Uryuu. “Well, go on! Be kind to my knight, you asshole, and stop staring like he’s a thing to devour.”

“Wh—aw, fuck ya too, Aibo,” Shiro snaps back without heat, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks. He prowls across the stage and hops down to stand next to Uryuu, putting them level with each other. “Here ya go, one lord’s ‘tention,” he says with an easy grin. “Cha want, Ishida-san?”

He… shouldn’t be surprised that Shiro knows his name, but it still stalls his mind for a moment. Around them people are beginning to fall silent, watching and wondering what’s going on. They’re becoming the center of attention and it’s damn uncomfortable in Uryuu’s opinion, especially when everyone is waiting to see what he wants with their Lord.

Urahara catches his eye and arches an eyebrow, making a little ‘go on’ gesture with one hand. It’s enough to jolt Uryuu into action.

“A token, to wear into battle?” his mouth asks before his mind fully unfreezes.

Shiro blinks slowly, surprise flickering across his expression.

(Oh. Oh, he’s going to die. Of mortification if nothing else.)

A hush spreads through the courtyard as everyone waits for Shiro’s reaction. For the anger and frustration at being asked yet again by a random knight — worse, by someone who doesn’t wear the uniform or insignia of the flying division.

(By someone Shiro is unlikely to know.)

Uryuu already knows the sort of rumors his fellow knights are likely to spread, no matter how this works out.

Shiro’s surprise passes and he smirks at him, hand raising to the bright red scarf wound about his neck. “A token, hmm? How ‘bout a scarf, m’bold lil archer?”

All he can do is nod, tongue frozen and cheeks burning at the address. Shiro chuckles and steps closer, draping his scarf around Uryuu’s neck and tucking the ends into place with far too much fussing, fingers skimming Uryuu’s skin more than necessary.

“A token, that m’bold lil archer might r’turn safe ta me time an’ time ‘gain,” Shiro murmurs in Uryuu’s ear, making Uryuu twitch and tuck his chin down towards his chest, entire face feeling like it’s on fire.

Which just ends up burying Uryuu’s nose in Shiro’s scarf and makes everything worse.

(Better. Makes everything better.)

(He’s wearing Shiro’s scarf.)

(No, wait. Absolutely makes things worse.)

(He’s going to die.)

Urahara makes a noise that Uryuu recognizes as the man suppressing laughter. It’s enough to make him gather his wits. “Thank you, my liege,” he clumsily forces out.

“My pleasure,” Shiro says with a bright grin, taking a reluctant step back and letting his hands drop back to his side. Foxfire and lightning flicker and swirl across his hair and shoulders, wilder now than before.

(He did that. That’s Shiro’s reaction to him.)

(Oh but he wants to reach out and feel the man’s magic across his hands…)

“Maybe we’ll e’en get ta work t’gether,” Shiro says with a wicked smirk. “I’m lookin’ for’ard ta it.”

“Uh—” is all Uryuu can get out before Shiro has hopped back onto the stage and retreated back to his brothers. “Uhm—”

Urahara laughs and drops down, resting a hand on his shoulder and gently pulling him away. “Let’s get you inside before you pass out from all the blood rushing to your head,” he says softly enough that only Uryuu can hear.

Uryuu whines and covers his face with his hands, the enormity of what he just did crashing down around his ears. “I’m doomed,” he whines as Urahara guides him through a nearby door. “I— why did you let me do that, oh Ancestors I’m doomed, he— I—” his voice cuts out in another wordless whine, unable to articulate his emotions.

“Aww, that’s not true, Uryuu-kun! Look on the bright side, Shiro-kun likes you enough to give you his scarf!” Urahara makes a happy noise and ruffles Uryuu’s hair. “Why, just think! Next he might even take you for a ride on Getsuga!”

Uryuu shakes his head in wordless disbelief and bats Urahara’s hand away from his hair. He doesn’t believe it. He won’t believe it. Not until he’s standing in front of Getsuga and being allowed on her back.

Urahara just laughs.