The instant Kisuke hears footsteps approaching his lab, he carefully sets aside the dagger he’s been experimenting on and turns around. He has his suspicions about this upcoming visit, and braces himself to face an infuriated Ishida.

(Braces himself to lose the young man’s friendship.)

(He may have kept his promise to the letter, but certainly not to the spirit, and he knows how Ishida Uryuu feels about promises.)

“What did you do?” Ishida demands as he stalks into Kisuke’s lab and absently closes the door behind him. “Ichigo-sama showed up unexpectedly in the knight’s hall not long after I left here. What did you do?!”

Kisuke observes Ishida, mind scrambling for the best way to explain his actions. But how can he explain that he’s afraid for the young man? That the growing darkness in Ishida’s eyes worries him? That the brief glimpses he has of Ishida’s ever-contained — and increasingly violent — magic infuriates him?

(It infuriates him that Ishida feels so outcast, so in danger, in his own home. That he feels the subconscious need to be on alert and ready to retaliate at all times.)

“Well?!” Ishida snaps, stalking closer and tilting his chin up. There’s violence in his gaze, but there’s also fear, and Kisuke hates that he’s the one who put that there.

“Maa, maa, I didn’t tell anyone, if that’s—”

“Then how— no. No. Urahara, please, tell me one of our Lords wasn’t— that I didn’t—”

“I can’t,” Kisuke whispers reluctantly, wincing at the betrayal that races across Ishida’s expression before Ishida forces his expression blank. “Ishida-kun, please, I—” he hesitates, then carefully edges back and kneels in front of Ishida, pulling off his hat and keeping his eyes trained on the floor. “Forgive me. With everything they’ve put you through in the past years, and the coming war, I feared… but I should not have gone behind your back like that.”

Ishida moves restlessly, tiny steps back and forth that take him nowhere. Kisuke watches Ishida’s steps, but doesn’t lift his head or look up.

(He doesn’t want to see the moment Ishida decides to leave.)

(The memory of Ishida’s cold expression is more than enough.)

“Did you plan this?” Ishida asks abruptly, breaking the uneasy silence between them.

Kisuke starts, glancing up at Ishida in surprise before he looks away again. “No,” he admits readily enough, because he hadn’t planned it. He’d simply made a snap decision, taking advantage of an opportunity and thinking little of the consequences.

(But he’d still do it again. Anything to see Ishida survive, even if it means losing his friend.)

A soft whine escapes Ishida’s throat, and Kisuke squeezes his eyes shut and tucks his chin to his chest, shoulders hunching inward. No matter his intentions, he’s the cause of Ishida’s current pain, and nothing he says or does can truly fix what he’s broken.

(He’s always been inordinately weak to the unhappiness of those rare few he treasures.)

(Being the cause is even worse.)

“Stop,” Ishida protests softly, stepping cautiously forward and tugging at Kisuke’s haori with one hand. “Stop kneeling like that. You— why would you kneel to me? I’m not… I’m nothing important, and you are, and…”

“And I have done something unforgivable, no matter how I judged my own intentions,” Kisuke says firmly, not budging from his position. “I’ve betrayed your trust, instead of bringing my concerns to you.” He cautiously lifts a hand and ghosts his fingertips over the back of Ishida’s hand — a reassurance he’s uncertain Ishida will accept — and continues, “And you are someone important.”

Ishida scoffs and pulls away, though he doesn’t swat Kisuke’s fingers away. “Just because of my father—”

“No. Because of yourself,” Kisuke presses, then gives himself a mental shake. He knows Ishida’s opinion on this topic, and bringing it up now won’t win him any favors; that Kisuke is kneeling must burn the young man horribly as it is.

(But it’s the only way Kisuke knows to show the depths of his feelings. To kneel when the rank he was gifted as a young man means only his Lords may command him to kneel.)

Ishida takes a deep breath, pulling further away from Kisuke as he does. He’s still not heading towards the door, however, and Kisuke isn’t sure how to take that. Instead, Ishida steps past Kisuke and begins to pace in the more open area behind his back.

The hair along Kisuke’s neck prickles, but he forces his body to remain still. He trusts Ishida, even now, even though his early training insists he’s in danger.

(He won’t give in to Ishida’s attempt to force him to rise.)

“What were your concerns,” Ishida finally asks, voice hard.

Kisuke licks his lips and tries to keep from crumpling his hat too obviously. “Escalation,” he says, thinking of the chaos of battle, and the way plans so easily fall apart. The way plans falling apart is so rarely questioned. “That the others could use the chaos to separate you from the army. To put you in a position you couldn’t escape from. That… that I couldn’t rescue you from.”

Ishida freezes behind him. “They wouldn’t,” he whispers in denial, an edge of pleading to his voice.

“They would,” Kisuke gently says. “They’ve gotten away with everything else so far and they resent you already. How much more will they resent you when they see your abilities on the battlefield? When they see your strength, your skill?”

Ishida murmurs a soft string of denials as he steps further back, and Kisuke can no longer bear to kneel, to remain in place when his friend is hurting. Kisuke rises slowly and turns to face Ishida, setting aside his hat and stretching a hand out in a silent offer of a hug.

(He doesn’t know if Ishida will accept. If he’s done too much, broken too much trust between them, but— he hopes—)

“These young knights have not seen war,” Kisuke continues, when Ishida merely stares at him blankly. “Not like you and I have. They don’t have the mindset for it, not yet, and instead of realizing that they cannot have that mindset until they have been through war… they will blame you for their supposed shortcomings. For showing them up once again.”

“But still… surely they won’t…”

Kisuke sighs and lets his hand drop back to his side. “Most of them, probably not. But can you tell me for sure that Matsunu wouldn’t? Or Shoya? Or maybe one of their more zealous sycophants, wanting to win points with them? It only takes one person, Ishida-kun.”

In fact, depending on how Ichigo and his brothers decide to handle it, Ishida might be in more danger now. Revenge is a wonderful motivator, Kisuke knows, and he’s just handed all of them all the motivation they could ever need.

(No. No, he can’t afford to think like that. He’s brought Ishida to the attention of their Lords. Things will… things will work out.)

He can see the despair growing in Ishida’s gaze, the fear that Kisuke put there expanding to everything.

(His fault. All his fault. If only he’d left well enough alone…)

Ishida braces himself against the table behind him and scrubs at his face, setting his glasses aside when he knocks them askew. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits reluctantly. “I thought… I thought they’d just… drop it. Out there. They always just… it was just words, and making me look clumsy when afoot, and I hated it, and them, but…” Ishida’s breath hitches in his throat and he sends Kisuke a pleading look. “And now our Lords know, and… and not just about that, but about my crush, and they’re probably laughing about it — about me — and—”

“Woah, hey,” Kisuke interrupts, taking cautious steps towards Ishida until he’s settled at the young man’s side. He waits for Ishida to protest, to shove him away, but when he doesn’t, Kisuke carefully pulls Ishida in until his head is resting on Kisuke’s shoulder. “Even if it was just words and making you look clumsy, they had no right, and we both know it. And from what you’ve told me, they’ve begun to branch out in the last few years.”

Ishida slumps against his side, body shivering and breathing uneven, one of his hands gripping Kisuke’s haori tightly. Kisuke makes sure to let a bit of his magic out, fire-warm and protective, in order to trigger the wards throughout the room, then lets it linger in the air around them.

“As for any of our Lords laughing at you, they would never,” Kisuke tells Ishida. “They’ve never found their entertainment in the humiliation of others.”

“But they still know,” Ishida protests, burying his face further in Kisuke’s shoulder.

Kisuke chuckles and brings his free hand up to comb his fingers through Ishida’s hair. “They do, but there’s nothing to be ashamed about. They’ve all had crushes. If you don’t want them to acknowledge it, just… pretend they don’t know. Shiro might watch you more closely for a while, but he won’t try anything unless you start it.”

“They— he already knows,” Ishida says shakily, then takes a deep breath. “I… maybe I could… try? If he’s not… disgusted by me already…”

“He’s not,” Kisuke says with confidence, because he knows Shiro, and he knows what it takes for Shiro to be disgusted. The other knights are going to have a long way to go before Shiro ever even considers forgiving them, but not Ishida. “And if you want to get his attention, hm… let me think.”

Kisuke tips his head back, mentally rolling his eyes at giving his friend advice on how to catch the attention of someone Kisuke considers his son. This is utterly ridiculous, and at the same time he’s been waiting for it to happen for years. He wishes it wasn’t happening now, on the eve of war, but given how dramatic both Ishida and Shiro can be, he’s entirely unsurprised.

(The dangers of befriending someone so much younger than him, honestly.)

“Be bold,” Kisuke settles on after a moment’s thought. At Ishida’s curious noise, he elaborates, “Try to treat him like just another warrior. I know he’s always frustrated that no one will ever give him decent spars, beyond those of us in his family. And don’t be a yes-man to him, he has more than enough of those and he’s always trying to chase them off.”

Ishida gives a snort of laughter. “I’ve noticed,” he admits with a touch of amusement. “It’s always fun to see him snarling at his hangers-on. Especially when he starts playing up the ‘I’m a terrifying Dark Flier, fear me’ angle when they won’t go away.”

A soft squeak pulls Kisuke’s attention away from Ishida and towards the partially-opened door to his lab where Shiro is currently standing, wide-eyed and frozen, pale skin shading red.

“W-well,” Shiro stutters, swallows, squares his shoulders and tries to force his voice to be even. “I’m glad some’ne ‘preciates it.” When Ishida jerks back from Kisuke’s side and stares wide-eyed at Shiro in turn, Shiro grins, waves, then address Kisuke, “So, uh… was gunna ask ya t’help make some plans, but, uh… seeya, bye.”

“See?” Kisuke asks in amusement as Shiro beats a hasty retreat. “You’re already winning him over. Congratulations.”

“Oh, kami,” Ishida moans in despair and slumps against Kisuke’s side again, face burning almost as red as Shiro’s had been turning. “Oh, kami. I’m doomed. I just— I can’t— oh no.”

Kisuke can’t help it. He leans back and laughs, even as Ishida’s fist thumps lightly against his chest and the young man moans about heartless people and demands that he stop laughing, already, it’s not funny.

It just makes him laugh harder.