They break camp shortly after true dawn.

It’s later than Erich wanted, but they’re not that far behind schedule.

(Not that they really have a schedule anymore.)

(Or anyone expecting them at the other end of their march…)

(No.)

(Focus.)

It feels odd to be abandoning camp the way they are, with all the tents still pitched and crates still scattered around, ruined and discarded equipment left behind, and with nothing but the essentials on their backs and stretchers for the men too injured to keep up. The whole place is booby trapped, rigged with explosives and wires and anything else the men could come up with on such short notice; it certainly isn’t perfect and there’s no guarantee that they’ll catch anyone with it, but at least they tried.

There’s nothing for them to return to and they all know it.

They’ve abandoned the field, abandoned their duty, and now they have to live with the consequences, whatever those may be.

They’re carrying enough food and supplies for a week’s march and that’s it. If they get delayed, if they have to take a longer route, if something — anything — goes wrong—

(No.)

(Focus.)

(They’ll make it.)

Both battalions settle into the steady, driving pace that time and emergencies have ground into their bones, and Alexis keeps pace without sign of strain. She’s probably using her inner power to bolster her strength, given that marching is not exactly a skill their people develop. Not to the extent he and his men have, old hands at marching for survival as they are.

On his other side, Urahara also keeps pace, though it’s obvious that he’s surprised by the speed in which they’re moving. Erich doesn’t know the man’s abilities well enough to decide if Urahara is having to bolster his own strength like Alexis is, but… he suspects that’s the case.

(Give a people a method of fast travel and of course they’ll discard the forced march as soon as possible.)

(If Reapers ever had a reason to march anywhere…)

(The scattered, decentralized ‘divisions’ Urahara spoke of makes him doubt that.)

“You know what your decision will make our Clan think,” Alexis murmurs as soon as they’ve all settled into the pace and are making good time through the forest.

Erich grimaces at her words and resists the urge to glance over at Urahara yet again; he does know what other Quincy will think, seeing him with the start of a power-weave bond connecting him to the man. They’re going to think he’s known Urahara for months, that they’ve made peace with each other and found a tentative balance and that Erich isn’t terrified of the Reaper he’s inviting into their home. It’s… it’s a convenient misconception, even if he hadn’t been thinking of it when he did it, but…

He doesn’t know how well he can uphold that misconception, because it’s a lie, because he is terrified, because the sight of Urahara standing over him is petrifying no matter how prepared he is, but…

But he can’t undo it, can’t take it back, because he needs to carry Benihime and this… this is the only way he can.

“I know,” he settles on, resigned-accepting-tired in a way that’s become all too familiar.

(He doesn’t remember what it’s like to not be resigned-accepting-tired anymore.)

(He’s lost so much, forced himself on for so long, that he… he doesn’t know if he can stop anymore.)

(Urahara is just one more weight to carry, one more responsibility to juggle, but…)

Erich forces his breathing to match his pace. Forces his mind to focus on the physical. Forces himself to let go, because… because…

Because Urahara is more than just a weight, more than just a source of stress. The dual beats of trust-wonder-loyalty from soulbond and power-weave are intoxicating, the lack of pain he’s in is breathtaking, and the memory of stories traded well into the depths of night is… subtler. Kinder. Humanizing when he’d never thought, never expected, to find any sort of common ground with a Reaper of all people.

(He wonders what that says about himself.)

(Wonders if he even wants to know.)

(Decides he probably doesn’t.)

Alexis gives him a concerned look and Urahara brushes concern-question-worry against his senses, both of them reacting to his twisting emotions, and…

It’s hard not to simply shake his head and deny anything being wrong, but… but they all know better than that.

“It’ll be alright,” he breathes, more for himself than for them, and reaches through his bonds to brush exhaustion-acceptance-hope against both of them as his true answer.

(Only a little longer.)

(Just one more march and then he can rest.)

(He can make it.)

(He will make it.)

(He has to.)

***

They keep moving, pushing on through the morning and into the early afternoon, stopping to rest and reconnoiter every few hours.

They’ve been lucky so far according to the scouts; the enemy hasn’t penetrated this far into the forests yet, still cautious-wary-uncertain after nearly a week of nighttime strikes and units unexpectedly dying. There’s no sign of the enemy advancing and no sign of active mages, which is all Erich can hope for at the moment.

That will change, he knows that will change, but for now…

For now he keeps them moving. Keeps pushing through the daylight for as long as his men can stand. Calls for breaks when he judges them needed. Orders them on when he senses they’ve recovered. Shares his spiritual power with Alexis when her own starts to flag, and almost, almost reaches out to do the same to Urahara, but…

Urahara is determination-focus-loyalty through their bond, the power tying them together unwavering, and Erich… Erich doesn’t know how to ask, how to offer, doesn’t know if it would even be accepted…

(Doesn’t know if he can make himself share…)

(Shame gnaws at his stomach for the doubt.)

(That’s his soulmate…)

(He should… should be able to…)

Erich grits his teeth and turns his attention to the land in front of them.

(He’ll handle it later.)

They make good time, for all that they’re exhausted and are carrying wounded with them.

(He’s given them hope, given them something they want, and they’re willing to push themselves to reach it.)

(They’re all good men, and he’s… he’s glad that Alexis arrived, that she offered Rerugen lands and hospitality when he could not.)

(None of them deserve the horrors their country has subjected them to.)

They march until the sun begins to set, shadows lengthening across the ground, a greedy darkness that quickly starts to obscure the hazards beneath their feet. Too much longer and they’ll be marching in impenetrable darkness, forced to slow their pace to a crawl even if they take the risk of lighting their way.

(Not that any of them want to.)

(Bad enough they’re marching away from an active combat zone.)

(Worse if they attract other attention along the way.)

(For all that man has conquered magic, there are still wild places amongst the world that are better left… undisturbed.)

Urahara stumbles and Erich automatically reaches out, grasping the man’s elbow to steady him, and—

Urahara freezes. Stumbles again, almost dragging them both down—

Erich huffs and drags Urahara up instead. “Fool,” he mutters as he tugs Urahara close, practically shoving power through their soulbond to refill Urahara’s own reserves. Now that he’s paying attention, he can feel how low Urahara strength is, and the shame-guilt-distress of earlier roars back to the fore; if only he had paid attention, if only he had reached out—

“Maa, maa, you really don’t have to! I—”

“You aren’t trained for this,” Erich snaps, then swallows back the other, equally sharp words that want to escape and looks back to catch Schwarz’s attention instead. “Major Schwarz!” he calls out, sensing the way the men around them perk up at his voice and knowing they’ll be pleased by his next words. “Call a halt, we’ve gone far enough for today.”

“Yes sir!” Schwarz replies, too disciplined to sound relieved but clearly feeling it all the same.

Erich considers the darkening forest around them for a moment, then adds, “Keep the fires to a minimum, just enough to heat some food, and then put them out again. Let’s not tempt fate.”

“Of course not, sir! I’ll pass the message along.”

Content with the knowledge that his men will be fine, Erich scans the area, looking for a place to rest for the night; a forest floor isn’t his preferred place to sleep — there’s very little comfort to be found in nature, if he’s being honest — but he’s slept in worse places.

As his men begin to fall out and set up their own small camps, Erich decides on a spot beneath an ancient, towering tree and pulls Urahara along with him, Alexis following in their wake.

“Sit down,” he orders Urahara as he lets go of the man, then turns away before Urahara can respond. He drops his pack with a groan and stretches, trying to work the kinks out of his spine before he starts setting up their minimal ‘camp’. Usually he’d just set up with Schwarz or Degurechaff, but… he’s not sure if he should this time, not sure where exactly the line is when dragging two soulmates around—

“The men are settling in, sir,” Schwarz reports, startling Erich from his thoughts. “Scouts are still reporting no sign of the enemy.”

“Good,” Erich says as he crouches down to get a closer look at the ground. It’s well padded with leaf litter at least, so they won’t have to sleep directly on the ground, and he doesn’t see any evidence of an insect nest nearby either. “Keep the watch close to camp tonight, and make sure everyone knows to keep the light to a minimum once the food’s been heated up.”

Schwarz watches him work for a moment, then glances past him to the gathering darkness beyond their makeshift camp. “Understood, sir, I’ll make sure the men know. I doubt the enemy will want to advance through that, anyway.”

“Not many people do,” Erich says with a faint smile, glancing up at Schwarz as he does. “Is there anything else, Major?”

“No, sir! I’ll return with some food when it’s ready.”

Erich watches Schwarz leave, then resumes setting up their minimal ‘camp’ as best he can; there’s little he can do besides making sure there aren’t any sticks or stones under where he plans to set their bedrolls, but anything is better than nothing. And without a fire or a tent, they’re going to want as much padding between them and the ground as possible.

“Here,” Alexis says as she kicks more leaves towards him. “Think we should do a bit of searching ourselves?” she asks softly as she crouches down next to him. “We could combine it with refilling his reserves.”

He sighs and scrubs the back of his wrist across his forehead, shame-embarrassment-guilt curdling his stomach at the reminder of what he let happen. “That’s… probably wise,” he murmurs as he casts a quick glance over his shoulder at Urahara, then looks away the instant Urahara meets his gaze. “That… I shouldn’t have let that happen…”

Alexis snorts and bumps her shoulder into his, brushing warmth-reassurance-confidence against his senses as she does. “We’re still feeling each other out, remember.”

“But I almost…!”

“And if his strength had given out before night, you would have corrected it,” she says firmly, leaning into his side. “I know you, Erich. No matter how you feel about him, he’s currently a man under your protection, and you would not have left him to suffer.”

Erich grimaces and wipes the debris from his hands, uncertain if he agrees with Alexis’ assessment; he’d entirely tuned Urahara out until the very last moment when he’d reached out and caught the man. If that isn’t evidence that he would leave the man to suffer, he isn’t sure what is.

(He could have done more.)

(Should have done more.)

(Just like he’d done for Alexis throughout the day…!)

Alexis gives him a sidelong look, then shrugs and turns away. “Urahara,” she calls, then gestures to the two packs sitting within arm’s reach of the man. “Can you throw us the bedrolls?” she asks, pronouncing her words as clearly and distinctly as she can.

“Bedrolls?” Urahara repeats carefully, a frown creeping in as he gives the packs a long, hard look. But before Erich can try to translate, understanding seems to dawn on Urahara’s face and he begins unlacing the bedrolls tied to each pack and tosses them one by one to Alexis. “Bedrolls,” he repeats again, a tiny, pleased grin on his face.

Alexis grins back at him as she catches the three bundles — one from Alexis’ pack and two from Erich’s — and hands them off to Erich for him to set up. “Good,” she praises, making a touch of color rise in Urahara’s cheeks as the man ducks his head.

It’s the work of moments to set all three of them up atop the padding of leaf litter, and Erich takes a moment to brush a hand over the bottom edge of each, setting up a tiny heating ward to slowly warm the interiors over the next few hours.

(He rarely takes the risk, but… Urahara’s being dealing with the Hollows in the area.)

(It should be safe to do this.)

(Hopefully…)

Erich sighs and pushes himself to his feet, the offers his hand to Alexis to help her up. “Food should be ready soon, then we’ll meditate,” he says as he crosses the small distance to Urahara and starts to sit, only to grimace as Benihime gets in the way. With a thought he adjusts the harness keeping her in place, giving them both a bit more freedom so her hilt isn’t jabbing into his hip. He tips his head back and closes his eyes, trying to dredge up the courage he needs to say— “I’m sorry.”

Leaves crunch as Urahara shifts position, confusion-awkwardness-uncertainty trickling through their paired bonds as he struggles for words. “I don’t understand,” he says eventually. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I do. I helped Alexis and not you,” Erich explains as best he can.

Urahara huffs a laugh. “I wouldn’t expect you to support two people the entire day. I only know a handful of people with reserves that deep, and neither of us qualify.”

Erich purses his lips and gives Urahara a considering look, uncertain if Urahara is just being polite or if the man legitimately doesn’t know that Quincy can draw power from the world around them. “It doesn’t matter how shallow or deep my reserves are,” he settles on at last. “The fact remains that I should have assisted you and I did not. Will you let me make it up to you?”

“Make it up to me…?” Urahara repeats in confusion, then shakes his head and asks, “How?”

“We’ll…” Erich grimaces, scrambling for the Akitsugo word for ‘meditate’ and turning up blank. He wishes Degurachaff was around to translate, but she’s probably off checking the camp and the men, and he has no idea when her rounds will be finished. “Meditate?” he tries in Imperial, only to sigh when Urahara shakes his head in incomprehension. “Sorry. I don’t know the word. But… sharing power? The three of us together. And tomorrow I will help keep your reserves steady.”

Urahara shakes his head again. “I don’t want you stressing yourself. I can manage.”

“Will your reserves be full again in the morning?” Erich asks pointedly, knowing that he hadn’t done much more than keep Urahara from collapsing from exhaustion earlier. Urahara’s awkward glance down is all he needs to know the truth: a single night won’t be enough. “Then trust me. Let me do this. You will see.”

He tries not to squirm under the sharp, assessing look Urahara gives him at that, then breathes out a quiet sigh when the man finally nods.

“We can try it,” Urahara agrees, their connection awash with trust-acceptance-loyalty once again. “But if I sense that you’re beginning to falter, we end it then and there.”

Erich smiles faintly at Urahara’s words. “Trust me,” he repeats, amused by the exasperated look that earns him.

Urahara will learn the truth soon enough.

(Hopefully this doesn’t backfire on him.)

(No.)

(He can’t think that way.)

(It will be fine.)

(Everything will be fine.)

(It has to be…)

(It has to be.)