Tropes meeeeeme 98 and 96 for shiro/uryuu! Sorry but not sorry that au is just *chef kiss*
– anonymous
(98: Curses, 96: Scars)
(Okay, so this isn’t QUITE the Liegelord AU bc a lot of that AU is heavily based in Fire Emblem and curses don’t play a heavy part in FE usually, but I hope this suits XD)
Curses, Uryuu knows, are delicate things, fragile for all their horrific consequences. They spin from his fingers like gossamer thread, sinking into the talismans he prepares and settling into stasis, waiting for the moment they’re activated.
(He never wanted to be a curse-maker, wanted to bend his talents towards protections or blessings or anything else, but…)
(Well, when one is a Quincy, there’s a certain expectation that people have.)
At least it means that most people avoid him; he’s not bothered day in and day out like Inoue is, or looked to for answers to the smallest things like Sado is, or requested any time a beast of the Deep Wood wanders closer like Arisawa is. He’s left to his little, carefully kept workshop and bothered only when a grievance reaches a certain level of pettiness; the number of seam-unraveling and hair-tangling curses he’s crafted is frankly ridiculous. Tarnishing curses are also popular, as are temperature curses that make a person feel just a touch too warm or too cold no matter what they do.
The level of pettiness is a bit absurd, but at the same time he’s thankful that most of his curses aren’t terrible things.
(Not like the curses he’s crafted to ward the village, vicious and deadly and unforgiving.)
(He never wanted to be a curse-maker, but hell if he won’t use those skills to protect his own.)
Which makes the man who stumbles into his shop… out of place.
No one comes to him when they’re cursed; he’s a curse maker, not a curse breaker, even if he can do the second as easily as breathing. But when all the misfortune in the village is laid at his feet, no one really wants to tempt fate by angering him.
“Yer the curse-maker?” the pale, white-haired man asks as he leans against Uryuu’s counter. Gossamer red threads gleam to Uryuu’s magesight, covering the man’s body from head to foot in a delicate lace design.
Uryuu sighs and rises to his feet, squinting to get a better look at the curse entangling the man; it’s something to do with the man’s magic, he thinks. A wild-curse, perhaps, to make it more difficult to control. “I am. I take it you want a curse for whoever put you under that?”
The man blinks. “Well, I came ta ask ya iffen y’could undo th’balance curse. But now that y’mention it, gettin’ back at Aibo might be fun.”
“The… balance curse?” Uryuu stares at the man. Takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes. Leans close-close-close to peer at the man’s face. Reaches up to tug at one gossamer red thread and–
There is another curse there, hidden by the wild-curse. It’s a pale thing, days away from snapping on its own; it was put in place without malicious intent or desire for harm, and so lacks the strength to linger much beyond it’s casting.
“Usually I wait fer th’first date, but iffen yer price is a kiss I’m more’n happy t’supply,” the man says with a smirk, hand coming up to catch Uryuu’s in a light grip, thumb caressing the back of his hand.
Heat flares across his cheeks as he jerks back. “You have another curse,” he informs the man as professionally as he can, fumbling his glasses back in place. “It’s an old one, seems to be tangled up in your own magic. The balance curse will break in a day or two but that other one… I don’t think it will break on its own.”
The man scowls, fingers drumming against the counter as he stares down at it thoughtfully. “How much t’get ‘em both removed?” he finally asks.
“I… you want me to remove them? Inoue-san–”
“Ain’t a curse-breaker, jes a really powerful healer an’ we both know it. She could prob’ly deal wit’ th’one Aibo tossed at me t’be a dick, but… something none a’us knew was there? Nah. Yer th’best fer that.”
Uryuu swallows. “I’m not a curse-breaker either,” he tries to protest. “I make curses, I don’t break them.”
“Bullshit. Ain’t ever met a craftsman who don’t know how to unmake th’things he’s made,” the man says firmly, giving Uryuu a narrow look.
He places his hands on the counter and spreads his fingers, trying to ground himself as the niggling sense of familiarity finally clicks in his mind.
(This is the young lord’s twin!)
(But… he’d always heard that Kurosaki Shiro was a sickly man.)
(Beyond the unknown curse, there seems to be nothing wrong with him in the slightest!)
“What’cha say, Ishida-san?” Kurosaki Shiro purrs as he leans in, golden eyes bright with mischief. “I can give ya anythin’ ya want, jes say th’word.”
Uryuu grits his teeth as heat rising across his face yet again, and reaches out to snap the weak balance curse with a single gesture. He scoops up a tiny talisman and drops in on the counter in front of Kurosaki. “Here,” he grits out. “Put this in your brother’s pillow before he goes to bed at night and he’ll wake up with floor length hair.”
Kurosaki cackles as he sweeps the little thing up and tucks it into a pocket. “A’right! An’ I already feel better, so I bet y’got rid a the balance curse, right?”
“Yes. If you want me to remove the other one, you’ll need to come back tomorrow.”
Kurosaki smirks at him. “Aye aye, tomorrow it is then. I’ll e’en tell ya ‘bout Aibo’s reaction t’bein’ cursed!”
Uryuu nods dazedly as the man sweeps out of his workshop just as dramatically as he arrived. It almost feels like Kurosaki takes all the air with him as he goes which is… ridiculous. It’s ridiculous, and Uryuu shouldn’t be thinking that way, shouldn’t be letting the absurd flirtation get to him like that, but it’s… unique. It’s new, and he doesn’t know how to feel about new but… he doesn’t dislike it.
He shakes his head and pinches his inner elbow.
Tomorrow will be difficult enough without thoughts like that floating through his mind.
He has an entirely unknown and deep-seated curse to undo on the morrow and that should be enough for him.