Uryuu breathed a sigh of relief when Ukitake closed the door and left him to his own devices. He set the hair brush aside and dropped to sit atop the futon, rubbing at his eyes with a hand. Ichigo tugged at his reiatsu and Uryuu let it slip into his control, granting his partner the freedom he wanted.

“Well, this is sure a sight,” Ichigo murmured, materializing next to Uryuu and picking up the hair brush. “Another reality where we’re still a teen.”

Uryuu hummed and gathered his hair up so he could turn his back to Ichigo without catching any of it beneath him. “And he still lacks a proper sealed form.”

Ichigo chuckled and knelt, running his fingers through Uryuu’s hair and then starting to carefully brush it out. “It only took us several decades to master that. Somehow I don’t think however few years have passed for him is enough.”

“No… no I doubt it would be.”

Even with the benefit of teachers and not needing to learn it all on his own, Kaito would need plenty of time and practice to adapt to the strength he’d suddenly inherited. Their body just hadn’t been capable of containing it all until they’d grown and settled into their new skin.

Uryuu closed his eyes and tipped his chin towards his chest, letting the rhythmic strokes of the hairbrush sooth his spiraling thoughts. There wasn’t anything he or Ichigo could do to bring them back home; the only thing they could do was wait for rescue. It chaffed a bit, but… they’d manage. Their division wouldn’t be too badly off.

“If we stay away long enough, think we can argue that Gin’s ready to lead?” Ichigo asked as he paused to gently pick apart a knot in Uryuu’s hair. “Then we can just retire and go do… whatever.”

“You really want to do that to our division?” Uryuu asked in amusement, not needing to look over his shoulder to know the grimace that Ichigo would be sporting. They might not have taken the Captaincy willingly, but… their Shinigami were theirs now. “Besides, what would we even do? Go back to wandering Rukongai? Laze about with Kyoraku-ji-san? We’d be bored in a week.”

“And Gin would follow us back out to Rukongai in a heartbeat,” Ichigo agreed with a sigh. “Which would have all the others following us as well, especially our Kaito. Which would have Urahara trailing along, and then Ukitake-ji-san would get worried and check on us, and… ugh. Fine. No wandering back to Rukongai.”

Uryuu laughed softly and reached back to pat Ichigo’s thigh, getting a light tug on his hair in response. “We’ll live.”

“But all the paperwork we’ll have to do,” Ichigo moaned, slumping forward and pressing his face against the back of Uryuu’s head. “Gin won’t do any of it, the lazy ass.”

“Of course he won’t.”

Amusement spiked through his mind, followed by another tug on his reiatsu, and Shiro materialized in front of him. “Tha’d be too much like work fer th’gaki. Sides, th’more competent he looks, th’more likely we can fob Captainship off on him an’ he knows it.”

Uryuu snorted but he couldn’t deny Shiro’s words; Gin was entirely capable of bankai but had made a point to never reveal it. Not that anything so far had really needed him to go all out.

Shiro flashed him a tired grin and reached out to tug the right shoulder of Uryuu’s borrowed kimono down. “Lemme take a look, eh Koneko? We did a lil more fightin’ than we shoulda an’ I didn’t have time t’cushion it durin’.”

“Of course.” He pulled his right arm out of the sleeve and held it out to Shiro. “How’s Zan?”

“Sleepin’.” Shiro grimaced as he took hold of Uryuu’s wrist in a gentle grip, but Uryuu could feel Shiro’s relief filtering through them. “We’ll be fine, Koneko. Gunna hafta have a talk, though. Old man’s feelin’ guilty fer bein’ forced t’turn on us.”

Uryuu leaned back into Ichigo for comfort as Shiro ran his hand over Uryuu’s shoulder, probing at the old, branching scars and pulling their shared reiatsu closer to the surface. He ignored the familiar prickling sensation of Hollow regeneration being twisted into a kido and tried to sort out his own thoughts on the matter.

Zangetsu wasn’t the only one feeling guilt. He was as much Quincy as Zangetsu was, had been born Quincy and told stories of his ancestors for as long as his grandfather had been alive. Posing as a Shinigami for decades didn’t change any of that.

(Yhwach had reached out and twisted. Had manipulated and controlled and forced his hand…)

Shiro growled, digging his fingers into Uryuu’s shoulder until the discomfort dragged Uryuu from his thoughts. “Stop thinkin’, Koneko. Ya ain’t any more at fault than th’Old Man is. Zangetsu warned us an’ we all thought we had it covered.” He tipped his chin up and bared his teeth in another tired, proud smile, saying, “I showed th’bastard an’ now we ain’t never gotta worry ‘bout him ‘gain.”

“We all need some sleep,” Ichigo said. He set the brush aside and ran his fingers through Uryuu’s hair before beginning to braid it back. “We’ll be better for it in the morning.”

No matter how much he wanted to protest, Uryuu knew it was true. They’d put up a strong, casual front for the teens and Ukitake, but days of combat and the final, bitter struggle for control against Yhwach took their toll on all of them. They were all exhausted, especially Shiro, who had borne the brunt of fighting Yhwach both within and without.

But the last he’d seen of his gakis had been promising, even if their efforts had likely resulted in him landing here. Yhwach had been a prideful man, secure in his superiority; he’d wanted witnesses to his ascension, not corpses.

(He resolved once more to never let his pride blind him.)

(It never turned out well.)

Ichigo leaned over and freed Uryuu’s previous hair tie from his dirty clothing, quickly tying off Uryuu’s braid and letting it drop. “There. Shiro? How’s it look?”

“Eh. We’re gunna be stiff as a fuckin’ board t’morrow, but I got th’new damage sorted out.” Shiro let go of Uryuu’s arm and sat back to stretch. “Heat pack an’ rest fer a couple days.”

“Better than I expected, given what happened,” Uryuu murmured, massaging his shoulder for a moment before pulling his kimono back on and straightening it. “I’ll ask Ukitake-san about a heat pack in the morning. I’m not sure if he started keeping one around for us or if he always had one, so…”

“Eh, won’t take very long t’make one if he ain’t got one.”

“Or,” Ichigo interjected with amusement, “we could ask the teens to fetch one from the Living World.”

“Tch, spoilsport,” Shiro grumbled without heat. He pulled back the covers on the futon and burrowed beneath them, dragging Uryuu down with him. “C’mon, I’m fuckin’ ‘xausted. We can deal with this shit in th’mornin’.”

“As you say.” Uryuu chuckled and went without protest, slipping under the covers and flipping onto his side in order to drape an arm over Shiro’s chest and tuck his head against Shiro’s shoulder.

“Damn right.”

Their reiatsu flared briefly as Ichigo put out the kido lights, then the covers rustled again as he slid into bed and tucked himself against Uryuu’s back. “Sleep well,” Ichigo murmured.

Uryuu hummed in agreement and nuzzled closer to Shiro.

Sleep came swiftly to all of them.