Erich has no idea how long it takes for his tears to finally run out, he just knows that it feels like an eternity. An eternity of clinging to Urahara’s jinbei — clinging to Urahara’s spiritual power — and sobbing like a goddamned child after some… some nightmare or something.

(He’s never going to be able to look Urahara in the eye again.)

(What must the man think of him, losing control of himself like this?!)

But right now he can’t bring himself to care too much; he’s tired, and wrung out, and he just wants to sleep—

“Hey,” Urahara says softly as he lifts his head a bit and the hand in Erich’s hair stills, cradling the back of his head with more gentleness that Erich ever expected. “Feel any better?”

Erich snorts at that and presses exhaustion-despair-numbness through their mingled powers instead of trying to say anything.

(He doesn’t know if he can say anything.)

(He’s… he’s so tired…)

“Right. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and into bed,” Urahara says, then hesitates a moment, clearly thinking about something. “Rerugen-san, is it alright if I pick you up again?”

Erich prods confusion-question-exasperation at Urahara, wondering why he’s asking that question now instead of all the other times he decided he manhandle Erich today.

“Maa, Rerugen-san’s had enough of a day already, and I know how much you dislike it,” Urahara answers with a touch of dry amusement, then adds, “Besides, ‘just across the hall’ is very different from ‘crossing between two different realms’. I didn’t want to try to get you through the gate without carrying you, and I know you wanted to get away from Seireitei and Shinigami.”

He huffs and flicks exasperation at Urahara again, even if he is grateful to be back in his own home; he’d have preferred to get here under his own power, instead of having who knows how many Shinigami seeing him being carried, but… what’s done is done.

Urahara chuckles and adjusts his legs, stretching one out all the way with a slight wince. “You’ll feel better after a bath and some sleep,” he says with confidence, then pulls his leg back in and starts to brace himself to rise. “Trust me on that.”

Erich clicks his tongue but lets Urahara adjust him without complaint, even doing his best to help the man as they stand back up, but once they’re up—

His knees immediately buckle again.

Urahara catches him around the waist and sweeps him back up into his arms. “More tired than I expected…” Erich hears Urahara mutter, worry creeping into his tone and reiatsu. “I wonder… no. I’ll ask you later,” Urahara continues, though Erich doubts the man is really talking to him; he’s familiar with that tone of voice after spending months helping Urahara research and test ways to heal Kurosaki’s soul, and it’s a tone that means Urahara is mostly talking to himself so that he’ll remember to do something later.

Being carried like this is… a strange feeling, Erich decides, as Urahara tucks him close and slips across the hall and back into the bathroom; he hasn’t been light enough for people to cart around so easily in decades, but Urahara makes it seem like he weighs nothing. It makes something odd squirm in his chest, a feeling he can’t quite pin down and doesn’t know if he really wants to…

(After all, why would Urahara even—)

(No, don’t even think about it.)

As if summoned by his emotions, the foreign presence in his soul uncurls slightly, brushing against his mind. ::You won’t know unless you speak with him,:: the presence says gently, then flickers with soft amusement as Erich pointedly ignores him. ::Ignore me all you want, but you know it’s true. Just like you know he wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t feel something for you.::

That’s… not really something Erich wants to think about right now — or ever, really — so instead, he nudges the presence with a sense of question, presenting a brief memory of it retreating in exhaustion; if the other is pushing himself for Erich’s sake, that needs to end.

(He’s fine now, he’s safe, he’s home.)

(The other doesn’t need to keep being so watchful…)

The other’s presence dims slightly with awkward embarrassment, and this time it’s Io’s voice that answers his silent question.

::He’s like that,:: she tells Erich fondly. ::If he can help— if we can help— we want to.::

::Community is important,:: the presence confirms with a touch of amusement, before sobering and adding, ::Besides, you saved me. It’s only fair I return the favor.::

Erich grimaces and promptly shoves the memories of Yhwach toying with him at the other, followed by the memory of the other managing to kill Yhwach when neither Erich nor Uryuu nor even Kurosaki could manage the same.

In his opinion, whatever he did to ‘save’ the other is already repaid many times over, and now the other is trapped inside his soul, and Io is— is somewhere, which is hardly just compensation.

(Maybe he’ll speak with Urahara about it later.)

(Surely the man will have some idea of how to help?)

Erich twitches as Urahara kneels and sets him down on the floor, back against the tub, then blinks as Urahara pulls back and starts to— starts to unlace Erich’s boots?

He swallows. Struggles to keep from blushing at the sudden realization that Urahara means to bathe him. Wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him whole, because— because he hasn’t been so weak, so helpless, for decades. If he could just gather his strength, just push Urahara away and take care of it all himself—

But he can’t.

(He’s so tired…)

Urahara sets Erich’s boots aside and gives him a concerned look. “Rerugen-san?” he asks as he leans in. “Is there something wrong?”

Erich twitches, closes his eyes, and tips his head back against the tub, suddenly remembering that he’s still clinging to Urahara’s reiatsu and that the man can sense his emotions through it. It’s just one more tick on his list of reasons why he can never look Urahara in the eye again.

The presence pulls a bit closer, settling concerned-watchful-wary against Erich’s mind, almost like they’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, and it’s… it’s surprisingly comforting. Enough that Erich breathes a soft sigh and tries to let some of the tension drain from his body.

(Kisuke isn’t here to hurt him.)

(And the man’s right, he will feel better once he’s clean.)

(It’s just… getting there that’s going to be a trial.)

Urahara hums a bit and shifts closer, one hand settling on Erich’s shoulder as he asks, “May I undress you, Rerugen-san? Or would you prefer to remain mostly clothed?”

Erich grunts and tugs at Urahara’s reiatsu, pressing a sense of get on with it at the man; taking a bath with his clothes on sounds even worse that having the man undress him, so he’ll take the embarrassment of being treated like an invalid if it means he can get actually clean.

Urahara hesitates, something strange in his reiatsu, then seems to make a decision at last; he leans in and begins to undress Erich, hands steady and motions quick as he unbuttons Erich’s shirt and pulls it off. Then his undershirt. Then his pants and underwear and socks, leaving Erich naked as the day he was born, and probably just as uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” Urahara murmurs as he lifts Erich up and sets him in the tub. “Those clothes are probably not salvageable…”

Erich hums a bit in agreement — given the fight he just survived, he’s really not surprised by Urahara’s assessment — and leans against the side of the tub in exhaustion, already beginning to shiver with cold.

::Here, let me see if this helps,:: the presence says, before he does something and warmth suddenly radiates out from Erich’s core, fighting back the chill of the air and the bathtub on his bare skin. ::Better?::

Erich gives another wordless hum of agreement, even as he sets an arm on the edge of the tub and props his chin on it; the warmth is making him feel even more lethargic than before, but it’s so nice that he doesn’t want the other to undo whatever it is he’s done. So instead he just sits there and basks in it while listening to Urahara fiddle with the water, waiting for the man to get on with it.

“Here we go. Let me know if it’s too hot or too cold,” Urahara says as he takes Erich’s free hand and carefully sprays a bit of water from the handheld shower-head onto it.

It isn’t a bad temperature, Erich decides after holding his hand there for a moment; it could maybe be a bit warmer, but it isn’t bad, and he makes sure to send his acceptance through their mingled powers.

The spray moves up his arm and Urahara’s hand follows, sluicing off the worst of the sweat and grime with care and then moving on. Urahara’s touch is gentle as he moves the water across Erich’s body, the man taking special care anywhere that Erich had been wounded, which is… well… Urahara had scanned him before doing a bit of healing, but to remember everywhere is…

Erich yanks his mind away from that path and tries to focus on something, anything else, which means he ends up opening his eyes—

Urahara has his shirt off.

Erich swallows, staring blankly at Kisuke’s bare chest mere inches from his face, before his mind finally catches up with what he’s seeing and shock bleeds into concern.

More scars, exactly like the ones across Kisuke’s face, trace down over Kisuke’s neck and onto his chest. Not many — they look like they’re just extensions of the ones over Kisuke’s eyes — but they’re there. They’re there, and blatant, and weren’t there before, which means… which means—

While Erich was running around trying to corner Yhwach along with Kurosaki, Kisuke had gotten into a battle that nearly blinded him.

My fault, a part of him whispers, as Erich lifts his free hand and reaches out, brushing his damp fingers against Kisuke’s neck and the scars there; most of him knows that it isn’t his fault, knows intimately that war means he can’t be everywhere, protect everyone, but still he wonders: if he’d been faster, been better, could this have been prevented?

Kisuke startles at his touch just like before, and Erich can feel the tension building in Kisuke’s body, even if none of it shows in the man’s reiatsu, but he can’t— he can’t help it. The scars under his fingers are rough with newness, not yet softened by time or care, and one traces right across the tendons of Kisuke’s neck.

(He could have lost Kisuke, could have seen another friend dead, and all because he wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t fast enough—)

The presence shifts a bit closer, pulling their hand back before Erich can react. ::You’re making him uncomfortable,:: the presence says firmly, even as Kisuke catches their hand in his and holds it tightly. The motion draws their attention to Kisuke’s arm and the brand new scars all over it, and the presence clenches their jaw in reaction, apparently just as bothered by the sight as Erich is.

“Rerugen-san shouldn’t worry himself,” Kisuke says a bit awkwardly. “I’m perfectly fine, even Unohana-san agreed.” Then his eyes narrow and he lets go of Erich’s hand in order to grasp Erich’s chin and tip his face up a bit more, making the breath catch in Erich’s throat, panic-confusion-uncertainty clawing at his chest—

“Sorry, sorry!” Kisuke stutters out as he releases Erich’s chin like he’s been burnt. “I just… noticed your eyes are different and I was curious. Sorry, I won’t do that again.”

Panic-fear-horror lances through him from the presence, and the other scrambles forward enough to take control, catching Kisuke’s arm in a bruising grip and forcing their exhausted body to slur out, “C-color?”

Kisuke stares at them in surprise, then slowly, deliberately straightens up so he isn’t practically curled over them, and carefully says, “Mostly Rerugen-san’s usual brown, but with flecks of a more amber color. Well… now it’s more the opposite, mostly amber with flecks of brown.” He licks his lips, seems to debate something for a moment, then adds, “If I may ask, Rerugen-san’s guest, is there a color you’re worried about?”

::You have brown eyes…?:: the presence asks, sounding almost lost, before giving himself a mental shake and brushing the question aside. He takes a moment to gather himself, then nods at Kisuke’s question and murmurs, “R-red,” before pausing, grimacing, and reluctantly adding, “o-or blue…”

“Ah, I’ve seen neither color yet,” Kisuke reassures, giving their arm a light squeeze. “But I’ll watch for either, don’t worry.”

That, at least, seems to reassure the presence a bit, and he sinks back with a quiet sigh, exhaustion dragging at him — at both of them — once more. ::Sorry,:: the presence murmurs. ::I keep… I keep doing that, and I don’t even mean to…::

Erich grunts and gives the other a mental shove back towards where he’d been resting before, following it with a memory of climbing into bed to sleep.

The other chuckles a bit but goes, settling in the depths of Erich’s soul and going mostly still once more.

Alone in his mind at last, Erich lets go of Kisuke’s arm, slumps back against the side of the tub, and closes his eyes again, more tired than before; he can’t tell if it’s a result of having another being in his soul, or just the day in general, but it’s something he’s going to need to keep an eye on.

“Alright now?” Kisuke asks as he leans back in, worry-concern-care blooming in his reiatsu. “Falling asleep on me?”

Erich lowers his guard a bit more just to let Kisuke get a true sense of how exhausted he feels, then tucks his head into his elbow and lets himself drift. It’s a long moment before he feels Kisuke’s hand settle on his shoulder again, and this time the man’s touch is… cautious, careful, like Erich is something delicate, something breakable, despite all evidence to the contrary. It’s a strange feeling, and if Erich was more awake—

But he isn’t. He isn’t, and he doesn’t feel like fighting any more, so he says nothing as Kisuke resumes washing him off. Even as Kisuke gently repositions him to get at different parts of his body, Erich doesn’t protest, just lets the man do what he needs.

(And if the sensation of Kisuke’s hand across his skin makes goosebumps rise and his body to shiver, well…)

(He’s just cold, that’s all.)

Kisuke’s voice rises and falls as the man begins to ramble, his words just a jumble to Erich’s exhausted mind but the sound of it oddly soothing. It chases away the static in his mind and fills it with something warm-familiar-safe, making it even easier to relax into Kisuke’s care.

And then Kisuke sets a hand on Erich’s forehead and brings the water up to soak his hair, then adds shampoo and— and—

Erich can’t help the way he melts at the touch, at the feeling of Kisuke washing his hair, gentle-kind-focused in a way that makes the breath catch in Erich’s throat and tears want to collect in his eyes and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why he’s reacting like this, doesn’t know why he doesn’t want this to end, despite… despite it being Kisuke who’s caring for him.

(He’s just— he’s just exhausted.)

(That has to be it.)

(…right…?)

He shoves his confusion aside to deal with later — or never, never sounds good — and tries to pull his emotions back under control. It’s hard, though, especially with Kisuke continuing to wash his hair, nails brushing lightly across his scalp every so often, touch gentle but firm as he combs his fingers through Erich’s hair, rinsing it out.

Kisuke’s rambling words pause and he says something in a different tone of voice, but Erich still can’t quite understand it.

Not that it matters, since the next thing Kisuke does is turn the water off and drape a towel around Erich’s shoulders, beginning to dry him off with the same sort of focused but gentle motions as before. And then he leans in and gathers Erich up, lifting him out of the tub like he weighs nothing, and bundles a second towel around him.

Then— movement. More indistinct murmurs, warm-soft-kind, followed by being lowered—

Erich twitches as Kisuke’s warmth pulls away. Reaches out, trying to catch, to pull the warmth back, but his fingers close on nothing and his arm is trembling and he’s so tired, he just wants to sleep, even if it means being without the warmth.

Something is pulled up and tucked around his shoulders. A hand trails through his hair.

More indistinct words.

Erich sighs. Tucks his chin into his chest.

Sleeps.