Shiro swallows back his shout of victory as Getsuga launches herself into the air. Not only did Getsuga allow Ishida Uryuu close, but she allowed him on her back! And even better, Ishida is currently clinging tight to his waist and leaning against his back, peering at the ground below. His face is just over Shiro’s shoulder, close enough that Shiro can almost feel the other’s breath against his neck despite the wind—

He strangles the urge to reach out and yank Ishida into a kiss, but he’s still giddy with success. And Ishida’s tiny, happy little smile is making it worse; it’s such a genuine look, peaceful and happy in a way Shiro doubts Ishida’s been in a long time.

(He did that. He put that smile there.)

Before they can climb much higher, Shiro flicks a hand and summons the protective spell that all fliers learn, casting it over himself and Ishida. The chill wind immediately stops digging through his clothing quite so sharply and his eyes stop watering from the wind and the cold.

Ishida shoots him a grateful look. “Thank you.”

“Ain’t no problem,” Shiro deflects with a grin. “Ya been in th’ air a’fore?”

He makes an agreeable noise, gaze already back on the dwindling ground below them. “Mother was a Dark Flier. It was… nice when she took me up.”

Shiro makes a face at the admission; he’s had the displeasure of meeting Ishida Ryuuken more than once. He has no doubt that Ishida is understating his pleasure in escaping the man, if only for a short while. “Why not b’come a flier ‘stead of a mounted knight, then?” he wonders.

“I’m a male,” Ishida points out dryly, pressing closer so he can lean in and give Shiro a flat look. “Pegasi might take passengers up, but they are rather picky about their riders.”

“Aww, but we got a couple lineages that ain’t picky!” Shiro needles. “Or y’coulda found a wyvern t’tame!”

“You only recently acquired those lineages, and taming a wyvern requires more time than I have, or had, available,” Ishida scoffs and adjusts his glasses, a tiny flicker of light snapping from the tips of his fingers and catching Shiro’s eye.

(That was magic.)

(So Ishida is hiding his aptitude!)

Shiro snorts and taps a heel against Getsuga’s wing-shoulder, making her bank to the right and sending them soaring over the castle. “Mebbe when y’first showed up, true. Ya e’er thought ‘bout it since?”

Ishida hesitates, then sighs and presses closer, resting his chin on Shiro’s shoulder. “I have.”

Questions rattle through Shiro’s head, but he bites his tongue and stays silent; he gets the impression that prying answers from Ishida against his will is going to be like forcing a wyvern into harness. He learned patience while forming an accord with Getsuga, it won’t be a great hardship to apply that patience to this relationship either.

They fly in silence for a while, with only the faded sound of the wind and Getsuga’s wing-beats in their ears. Ishida relaxes against Shiro’s back, hands creeping forward until he’s embracing Shiro from behind. He tips his head to the side, cheek pressed against Shiro’s shoulder and attention focused on the ground below.

He could get used to this, Shiro decides. Getsuga’s powerful form beneath him, Ishida warm against his back… it’s damn near perfect.

(Now if only there wasn’t a war on the horizon…)

“The pegasi breeders have no interest in allowing someone like myself to take a chance with one of their charges,” Ishida murmurs, and it’s only the protective spell dampening the sound of the wind that allows Shiro to hear him.

“Then they’re dragon-damned fools,” Shiro grumbles, flicking Getsuga’s reins and sending her spiraling higher. “Believin’ rumors an’ a damn piece a’ paper o’er common sense.” Ishida tenses against his back and Shiro sighs, reaching over to awkwardly pat Ishida’s hair. “Y’really think any a’ us Lords b’lieve ya ain’t got magic? We grew up learnin’ magic an’ shit from Hat’n’Clogs… th’idea that th’son of a powerful War Monk an’ a Dark Flier could lack magic is ridiculous.”

“Then why..?”

Shiro tugs at a lock of Ishida’s hair then grins at the dark expression Ishida fixes him with. “Ain’t our place t’ask, really. Any number a’reasons people might not wanna say they got magic. Figure yer prob’ly tryin’a make yer own way wit’out people sayin’ ya gotta be a War Monk. Yeah?”

Ishida’s dark expression melts away and he smiles ruefully. “That easy to guess?”

“Ishida—”

“Uryuu,” Ishida interrupts, cheeks going bright crimson and head tipping down, his next words nearly lost in the scarf — Shiro’s scarf — around his neck. “Uhm… if… if you want.”

“Uryuu,” Shiro repeats, gleeful at the way Ishida’s— no, at the way Uryuu’s ears turn scarlet. He drinks in the sight of Uryuu’s flustered appearance and tiny smile, then relents with a smile of his own. “S’easy t’guess if ya know Ishida Ryuuken,” Shiro has no trouble admitting. “Man like that casts a long shadow, an’ it ain’t no fun bein’ caught in it.”

“No, it really isn’t,” Uryuu says, fidgeting with his glasses and slowly collecting himself. He licks his lips and settles back against Shiro’s back, arms around Shiro’s waist. “He… tried, but I didn’t want to… do any of that.”

Shiro hums and reaches down, linking their fingers together and giving Uryuu’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Faked yer aptitude, huh? An’ then people got it in their heads t’label ya magicless.”

“Urahara-san helped when I got to know him.”

Which means that the information they have on Uryuu’s strengths and resistances is as close to accurate as Hat’n’Clogs can manage. And that knowledge eases his worry; it means their plans don’t have a glaring hole in them. It means the only unknown is what magic Uryuu does know.

And how much Uryuu would like to learn.

(Would he take to Shiro’s preferred magic? Would lightning flicker across his skin and flames dance in his hair?)

(Or would he coat himself in gleaming ice and chill wind, or eschew the anima magics entirely and call forth light or shadows?)

(Shiro isn’t sure which vision pleases him more.)

“Would ya like ta? Switch divisions, I mean. Get a pegasus or wyvern mount.” Shiro has no shame and his brothers know it; poaching Uryuu from his twin is almost expected at this point.

Uryuu’s arms tighten around Shiro’s waist and he turns his head away to stare at the ground below them once more. “There… really isn’t time for that.”

“Not what I asked,” Shiro chides, then tugs Uryuu’s hand from his waist and raises it to his lips, pressing a kiss to Uryuu’s knuckles. “Won’t be annoyed iffen y’say no. But if ya’ve wanted t’be a Flier an’ jes had no chance t’do it… tha’s what I’m askin’.”

“Yes,” Uryuu breathes, voice a bare whisper of sound.

He kisses the back of Uryuu’s hand again, pleased by the breathless noise that Uryuu makes. “Then we’ll take a look at th’stables an’ th’dens later. Find ya a mount t’start workin’ wit’.”

Uryuu stills at his back and makes a brief, half-hearted motion to pull his hand from Shiro’s grasp. “Shiro-sama…”

“Ya don’t gotta switch immediately, but… we can look? An’ y’can think ‘bout it while we’re on th’front.”

“I… yes. I would… like that. So long as I have a choice.”

Shiro huffs and lowers their hands back to his waist. “Ain’t never goin’ t’take yer choices ‘way. Promise. Zan’d have my hide iffen I tried, anyway.”

He knows what this looks like, knows that the whispers of favoritism will spread the instant he shows any interest in Uryuu. Helping him find a mount and switch divisions will only make it worse. And Shiro has had enough lessons to know how badly this could affect Uryuu if they don’t work out…

(He wants to think his Fliers wouldn’t dare, but… he knows that’s wishful thinking.)

But he also knows how well this could go if they do end up in a long lasting relationship. He makes sure to field his knights in their chosen pairings whenever possible; his knights are incredible alone, but when they’re properly paired they’re all devastating.

(He wants that for himself. Wants a wingman he can rely on and a partner who can keep up.)

(And if he needs to poach a prospective partner from his brother’s Knights, well…)

(Ichigo should have expected it.)