Jyuushiro smiled at the friendship that Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Rukia shared; their friendly bickering and the silent gestures that indicated how well they knew each other was adorable. He didn’t miss how Kurosaki took care to subtly rearrange the dishes so Kuchiki could reach something easier, or the way he did the same with the others of his group.
Kurosaki was… kind. It seemed to be a harsh, often silent kindness, but Jyuushiro suspected he was a man who loved his friends deeply and fiercely.
(The worst kind of dangerous.)
(The kind who would risk it all for a threatened friend.)
He leaned into Shunsui’s side and threaded their fingers together, reassured by the knowledge that Kuchiki Rukia finally had someone to call her friend. She’d been so isolated in his division, especially after… after…
“Hey, it’s alright,” Shunsui murmured, his breath hot against Jyuushiro’s ear. “Why don’t you take a plate out to our dragony friend? Get some air.”
Jyuushiro tore his attention away from Kurosaki—
(Familiar face with unfamiliar expressions, so jarringly different and heart-breakingly similar…)
—and gave Shunsui a wan smile. “Right. I think I’ll do that.”
He considered the options on the table and compared it against what little he knew about Rerugen’s preferences. The man said he ate like a hawk or a cat in his dragon form, so with that in mind…
No fruits or vegetables, Jyuushiro decided as he took a clean plate and started to load it up. Light on the grains and heavy on the meat, though he didn’t have that many options on the table. Mostly fish and fowl, so hopefully those were acceptable to Rerugen.
Plate made, Jyuushiro rose to his feet. “Rerugen-san has not yet eaten today,” he explained to Kurosaki when the boy shot him a curious look. “I’m just going to take him some food so he doesn’t forget again.”
Ishida looked between Jyuushiro and the door that Rerugen had left through, clearly wanting to go with him but hesitant to speak up.
(Torn between loyalty to his friends and loyalty to the man who protected him?)
“Please, stay and eat your fill,” Jyuushiro urged Ishida. “I promise that neither of us will start a fight while we’re out of your sight,” he said with a touch of humor, trying to alleviate Ishida’s wariness.
“If you say so,” Ishida grumbled, though he did relax and resume poking at the food on his plate. He bit his lip, clearly wrestling with himself, then glanced back up at Jyuushiro before he could take more than a step away from the table. “Just… don’t ask about collars, okay?”
“I will keep that in mind.” Jyuushiro nodded solemnly to the boy, though he had no idea why collars would be a topic to avoid. To his knowledge, Shinigami had never collared Quincy, they’d only killed them.
(What in the world would have the guts to try and collar a dragon?)
(That was just asking for destruction!)
“Thanks.” Ishida huffed a breath and scowled at Kurosaki when his friend shot him a puzzled look. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just… old history. But I don’t know how old Rerugen-san is, so…”
“I’ll do my best not to antagonize him,” he reassured the group with a smile. “We worked together pretty well last night and today, after all.”
Ishida’s grudging nod was all Jyuushiro needed to assure himself that the boy was unlikely to follow after him, so he escaped before he could get dragged into any more conversation. He wasn’t entirely certain where Rerugen had gone — the man still had no reiatsu presence that he could sense, which was concerning on many levels — but he decided to start outside rather than wander the rooms of Ugendo.
Jyuushiro stepped out onto his porch and scanned the area, not seeing Rerugen anywhere despite the scent of smoke being heavy in the air. Nor was he on the west side of the house when Jyuushiro peered around the corner to look.
The east side proved a different matter.
Rerugen was resting against the railing, smoke curling from between his teeth and molten metal dripping from his claws and into the pond below. He looked… pensive, his heavy brow-ridges drawn down and his wings tightly folded.
“Rerugen-san?” Jyuushiro asked, stopping well out of range of the man’s wings or tail.
“Ukitake-san.” Rerugen cocked his head, one acid green eye pinning Jyuushiro in place with an intense stare. “Come to question me?”
“Come to make sure you eat,” Jyuushiro countered, gathering his nerve and stepping closer to the man. He held out the plate and a set of chopsticks, resisting the urge to smile at the way Rerugen’s expression went flat and the tip of his tail twitched. He looked a bit like a confounded cat, uncertain of how to react to Jyuushiro’s kindness. “I remember you said you have to be careful what you eat in this form, so I picked food that was mostly meat of some kind. I hope I chose right?”
Rerugen’s gaze flickered down to the offered plate and then up to Ukitake, his expression remaining unchanged. “It looks fine,” he admitted slowly, pink light blooming around his hands and scraping away the last droplets of molten metal. Accepting the plate and chopsticks from Jyuushiro with clean, unmarked hands, Rerugen turned his back to the railing and leaned against it, poking thoughtfully at the food Jyuuhiro had chosen.
A bit worried about the fish Yachiru insisted on putting in his pond, Jyuushiro stepped up to the railing and looked down, only to blink at the sight of more pink light shimmering atop the water.
“I made sure I wouldn’t hurt your fish,” Rerugen said as he picked up a piece of chicken, chopsticks held awkwardly because of his claws. “Flash-froze the metal before it hit the water.”
“Thank you. They’re not really mine, but I wouldn’t want to see them harmed.” Jyuushiro turned away from the water and tipped his head back to stare up at the sky, letting silence fall between them while Rerugen ate. He was tired and it was… surprisingly comfortable, sharing company with a person he should be at odds with.
(Rerugen’s words lingered in his mind, making him question things he’d never questioned.)
(Had the Quincy truly been the original guardians of the cycle of souls?)
(Had they been wrong?)
“Heavy thoughts?” Rerugen asked, setting his chopsticks down on his empty plate and cocking his head at Jyuushiro.
Jyuushiro gave Rerugen a tired smile. “You’ve given me… much to consider.” When Rerugen’s eyes narrowed and his tail thumped against the deck, Jyuushiro raised a hand and said, “Please, Rerugen-san. We are not… most of us are not malicious. I don’t know how many Shinigami ever knew… any of what you spoke about today.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Rerugen said with a smoke-laden huff, wings rustling as he leaned more against the railing. “What I’ve seen and learned of your society today… tch. You are not often encouraged to think for yourself, are you?”
Jyuushiro grimaced and rubbed at his temple, wanting to protest Rerugen’s words and knowing he couldn’t. He’d not enjoyed the war by any means, but… he’d never stopped to question it. It had seemed… logical at the time; with more souls being born into the Living World with every year that passed, every Hollow burned out of existence by the Quincy would tilt the balance more and more towards the Living World.
Enough souls in the Living World — and too few in Hueco Mundo and Soul Society — and the boundaries between the worlds would be destroyed.
(But Shinigami as he knew them had only been in existence for a little over two thousand years.)
(How then had the balance been maintained before that point..?)
A heavy hand came down and gripped Jyuushiro’s shoulder, claws digging into his skin just enough to surprise him out of his thoughts.
“Hey.” Rerugen’s voice was quiet, almost soft, lacking the sharp-edged rumble that he’d spoken with before. “Don’t destroy yourself over this,” he offered with a small nod. “Accept it, learn from it, and do better next time you’re faced with an order or a situation you do not know about.”
“You sound like someone who’s done this before,” Jyuushiro said wryly.
Rerugen shrugged, looked at the area around them, then gave Jyuushiro a very obvious — and very amused — once over. “Once you start, you never really stop,” he offered, letting his hand drop from Jyuushiro’s shoulder. “It takes time to unlearn things, and you’ll undoubtedly make mistakes, but… so long as you make an effort, and do not allow yourself to be lead so easily again, you’ll be fine.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jyuushiro murmured, thinking back on the hostility Rerugen had met him with the night before and comparing it to Rerugen’s current stilted kindness.
(He wasn’t the only one unlearning opinions, was he?)
(That was… oddly reassuring.)