Uryuu sat on the bed and fiddled with his right sleeve, staring at Urahara as the man meditated. His fingertips brushed against the smooth skin of his new scar again and again, the strange texture and lack of pain making something twist in his chest but—

He was alive.

He was alive, and healed, and safe.

(He was in a strange world, cut off from all he ever knew, with only an example of who he could have become as company.)

(He… wasn’t sure how to react to that, so…)

(He’d deal with it later.)

Urahara had settled in to meditate almost as soon as Euden and Zethia had left, saying something about ‘needing to take a look at the mess his transformation had left’, and promptly given Uryuu space to breathe without ever needing to ask if he needed it.

(And if that didn’t prove the man’s comment about being a version of him, he had no idea what would.)

Everything was… strange here, the air thick with power that resonated wrong to his senses, like reishi but sideways, and Zethia’s healing had been…

Well, if he was being honest, the skill she used had reminded him of nothing less than magic.

(*‘Least we’re healed,*) Shiro said, sliding close enough to drape across Uryuu’s senses and peer through his eyes. (*Th’ Old Man looks a lot better, an’ Aibo’s sleepin’ easier too. They’ll prob’ly be up when we wake t’morrow.*)

Uryuu heaved a sigh of relief and rubbed at his eyes, wiping away the dampness before it could fall.

(Better.)

(Zangetsu and Ichigo were better.)

(That was… that was good.)

Shiro huffed a brittle laugh and pressed closer, his relief blending with Uryuu’s own, sharp and overwhelming and painful until it was all Uryuu could do to breath through the emotion, to curl over and ride it out, arms around his chest and tears leaking from his eyes and the breath ragged in his throat.

(They were going to be okay.)

(They were going to be okay!)

(*Sorry,*) Shiro muttered after a long, long moment tangled together. He pulled back, pulled away, then froze in astonishment as Uryuu grabbed him, desperate-aching-lonely, and pulled him back, refusing to let him retreat into the depths of Uryuu’s mind.

The edges of their selves tangled back together, beginning-and-end blurring until it was Uryuu-and-Shiro instead of Uryuu and Shiro and…

It felt like he — they — could breath at last.

Shiro’s shock-surprise-hope faded into satisfaction, into warmth, and the two of them… settled.

(Not alone, never alone, never again.)

(The others would be fine, they would all be fine and together they’d figure everything out.)

(*Oh! ‘Ey, look,*) Shiro murmured in astonishment, attention snapping outward at something that Uryuu hadn’t caught. They sat up and leaned forward, Uryuu wiping away their tears, and watched in astonishment as Urahara’s swords began to glow.

It started subtle and quickly spiked, brilliant light pouring from the blades and then—

A shimmer, like heat haze on the horizon, and the glow faded away to leave two small, paired dao and a single sheath behind instead of the giant blades that looked like Uryuu’s own weapon.

(*Do you think we could do that?*) Uryuu asked, leaning forward a bit more to stare at the reasonably-sized weapons in Urahara’s lap. If he was right, his counterpart had just done the equivalent of a Shinigami sealing their weapons, which… sounded useful, actually. The size, at least, was certainly more manageable. (*And… do you have any idea why he has two?*)

(*We prob’ly could?*) Shiro hummed, flickers of almost-thought drifting by, and then added, (*Old Man’ll prob’ly say somethin’ ‘bout control, honestly. But… if mini Hat’n’Clogs can, an’ he’s us, then… ain’t see why not.*)

(*Mini Hat’n’Clogs,*) Uryuu repeated, torn between offended and amused, because on one hand, Urahara was supposedly them and on the other, well…

Urahara Kaito was an awful lot like Urahara Kisuke.

(He still hadn’t decided if that was a good thing or not.)

Shiro chuckled, the sound rumbling through their chest and then abruptly stopping because he hadn’t meant to vocalize that—

Uryuu blinked. Rubbed at their chest, disoriented by the sensation but not bothered by it. (*We’ll adapt,*) he hesitantly offered, a tiny smile emerging at the gratitude-agreement-confidence that Shiro returned.

Both of them turned their attention back to Urahara, letting their tangled emotions settle once more rather than continuing the conversation. Besides, something was happening again, though Uryuu couldn’t quite make heads or tails of it.

Tiny sparks of emerald light were drifting away from the man like little swirling fireflies, first one, then two, then more and more until there was a veritable swarm of brilliant, beautiful lights around the man, obscuring his body and drowning Uryuu’s senses in freed reishi.

It made Urahara look ethereal, look like he was dissolving into light, into power, and—

Maybe that wasn’t entirely incorrect.

Uryuu scooted closer to the edge of the bed, leaning forward to squint against the swarming lights to see—

Urahara’s tail was… fading. Losing solidity like a waning mirage, or a fogged piece of glass turning clear, until Uryuu blinked and—

It was gone.

(*Huh,*) was Shiro’s thought as they tilted their head and considered the man again. (*Makes a helluva difference, don’t it?*)

Uryuu had to agree. Without the tail, Urahara looked almost… shrunken, like removing it had forced him to curl himself inward and tuck himself away. It was… strange.

(Did Arrancar look the same when they first gained their human forms?)

(Was that… what this was?)

He could feel Shiro chewing that idea over and gladly left the Hollow to it; given their luck, he had no doubt they’d need to reach for Shiro’s mask at some point. Urahara already had to, and Uryuu didn’t need to know the man’s age to know that Urahara was better trained than they were.

If Urahara had already needed his mask, then Uryuu eventually would as well.

(But hopefully not until Urahara had already figured out how to undo the change.)

Someone knocked, sharp-abrupt-unexpected, and Uryuu jerked upright, staring at the door in surprise. Was… was it dinner time already?

Urahara twitched. Growled. Snapped his eyes open to glare at the door in offense.

Uryuu jerked to face Urahara fully again, eyes widening as he caught sight of a strange flicker across the man’s body, like a ripple across water and—

The tail snapped back into existence. Thumped against the floor once, twice, before Urahara reached back and held it still.

“This is going to be annoying,” Urahara muttered as he pushed himself to his feet and stalked to the door. “Yes?” he asked as he yanked it open and peered down at whoever it was who’d shown up.

“Cleo says dinner will be ready soon,” Euden said, apparently unperturbed by the annoyance Uryuu could feel radiating from Urahara.

“Right.” Urahara cast a glance over his shoulder and arched an eyebrow at Uryuu. “Ready to go downstairs?”

Uryuu pursed his lips and carefully got off the bed, reveling in the lack of pain the action prompted. He didn’t entirely feel up to facing a bunch of strangers, but… he also didn’t want to stay behind. “Fine.”

The look Urahara gave him said the man wasn’t fooled, but he didn’t call Uryuu on it. Instead, he turned back to Euden and said, “Lead the way. We’ll follow.”

“Of course!” Euden agreed swiftly, cheerfully. “Right this way.”

“I reserve the right to leave early,” Uryuu muttered as he stepped up to Urahara’s side and glanced over at the man, taken slightly aback that Urahara was taller than he was.

(But it made sense, didn’t it?)

(He was only fifteen after all, of course he had some growing left to do!)

Urahara chuckled and reached out to grip Uryuu’s shoulder, his touch strong-warm-comforting. “They seem a polite enough group. I’m certain they won’t complain if you need some space.”

“I hope so,” Uryuu murmured as he moved forward a bit and glanced down the corridor; Euden was waiting patiently not far away, not attempting to hurry them along at all, and that… helped. Even Shiro’s edge of nervous energy began to fade, leaving them able to take a deeper, slower breath.

(They could do this.)

(It was only a few people and they had a way out.)

(They’d be fine.)

(They would.)