It’s nearly pitch-black under the tree by the time they’re finished eating, what little light there is barely enough to see Urahara and Alexis’ outlines, and it’s… it’s tempting to just call it a night and try to get some rest.

He won’t though. Can’t. Not when he promised to make up for his earlier blunder.

“Shall we meditate?” Alexis asks as she inches closer and then settles, pressing against his side.

“We should,” Erich says in agreement, then turns towards Urahara and reaches out to grasp the man’s wrist. “Come on,” Erich murmurs as he guides the man closer. “Alexis and I usually sit back to back for this, but with three of us…” he trails off with a thoughtful hum, trying to picture how they should all be sitting; the problem is that he’s currently still wearing Benihime, which definitely puts a crimp in places that Urahara can sit.

Unless…

It takes a single thought to cancel the harness holding Benihime to his belt, and he uses his free hand to set her across his lap; he really doesn’t know what sort of rules exist for scenarios like this, but… he can’t imagine just setting aside an entire portion of Urahara’s soul simply because it’s in the way.

Not when they’re about to meditate together!

Urahara stiffens in his grasp, threads of wonder-astonishment-trust slipping through their bonds. “You… ah… my sword…”

Erich frowns and twists around a bit more to squint at the shadows over Urahara’s face. “Have I done something wrong?” he asks even though he doubts it, not with the feelings he’s getting from Urahara.

“No, no! It’s just… Shinigami have a technique called jinzen, where we commune with our blades in order to become more in tune with each other. You just… you’re sitting in a very similar pose,” Urahara hastens to explain.

“Hmm…” Erich looks down at his lap and traces his fingers over Benihime’s hilt for a moment. “Think of this as… similar,” he says as he tugs Urahara the last few inches closer, feeling the man shoulder thump against his own. “Let Alexis and I lead.”

Urahara makes a soft, thoughtful noise and cautiously shifts closer, until he’s pressed almost as close to Erich as Alexis is.

It’s a strange, prickly feeling, if Erich’s being honest; on one hand, Urahara is his soulmate, is part of him, but on the other…

On the other, he has a Shinigami pressed against his back, a Shinigami soul-sword across his lap, and he’s about to meditate with his people’s greatest enemy.

He breathes in. Tips his head back. Stares at the shadowed canopy overhead. Forces his mind to settle when all he wants to do is pull away—

(He can’t, he won’t!)

(He promised!)

“Maa, you don’t have to include me,” Urahara murmurs in reaction, starting to pull away before suddenly freezing in place.

“Tell our soulmate that if he tries to be unnecessarily noble without my permission, I will tie him up so we can get on with it,” Alexis announces blithely.

“Alexis!” Erich protests, then sighs and says, “I apologize for Alexis’… insistence. Will you trust me — us — to know our limits in this? I… want to try.”

Urahara slowly relaxes back against him, an undercurrent of nervousness-uncertainty-awkwardness belying his outward ease. “Very well. But—”

“I’ll let you know when it’s too much,” Erich promises, then carefully leans into both Alexis and Urahara and closes his eyes. Breathes. Focuses inward and—

Finding where their souls touch is achingly, wondrously easy from this distance. Alexis is familiar, is safe, is love-trust-forever where her soul mingles with his own, decades of careful cultivation having blurred the edges of him and her into him-and-her; it’s only obvious when they’re this close, of course, because they’re soulmates but they’re still humans, still tied to their physical bodies no matter how much time passes.

Urahara is… becoming familiar, a bare handful of interactions not enough to do more than smooth out the very worst of their jagged edges. Like this, Erich can feel the distance between them more sharply than ever; they can share emotions, share power, say as many words as they like about trust, but…

Urahara is afraid.

(Just like he is.)

Afraid of rejection, afraid of judgment, afraid of Erich-and-Alexis who have been together for decades and have mingled their souls and who know each other more certainly than anyone else can or will…

(While he’s afraid to trust, afraid to hope, afraid that the one thing he truly wished for is now forever out of his reach because of fear-enmity-hate and—)

Erich breathes out. Reaches out. Takes Urahara’s hand in his own at the same time he reaches across the gap between their souls and—

Urahara twitches back, twitches away, then freezes like a terrified deer, minute shivers racking his body.

“Trust me,” Erich murmurs, brushing concern-patience-steadiness against Urahara’s senses and then waiting-waiting-waiting until the tremors ease, until Urahara’s body relaxes back against his own, until Urahara’s very soul stops curling away from his touch.

(It’s… unnerving to realize exactly how lost-terrified-lonely Urahara truly is.)

(He’d suspected as much, but to feel-sense-know it is… different.)

(Humbling.)

He doesn’t stretch far, doesn’t intrude the way he senses Urahara wants-fears-expects, just… lets himself settle there, their souls barely brushing, together-but-separate just like their bodies; the difference is already noticeable, their connection cleaner-stronger-purer than before and their twined powers settling more comfortably. Even Benihime seems a bit less prickly against his senses, her presence smoothing out as Urahara begins to relax into this new closeness.

Carefully, cautiously, Erich draws Alexis in closer, acting as the bridge between their souls, hoping they can find some measure of ease the way he and Urahara have; any amount of familiarity will be a boon at this point, when they have to bring an enemy into the heart of their clan home without even a by-your-leave.

(The better they feel about Urahara, the more convincing they can be.)

(Oh, let this not be a mistake…)

He waits, keeping his breathing steady and his mental presence steadier, as Urahara and Alexis… linger right on the edge of letting their souls brush.

(Urahara is trembling again, expecting-fearing-wanting again…)

(It makes him wonder what the man’s been through to expect them to just take without asking.)

(He… probably doesn’t want to know.)

(For the sake of the vengeance he might otherwise demand, at the very least.)

Eventually they settle, separated by a hairs-breadth but so, so much closer than before, and Erich lets himself relax at last; Alexis doesn’t need to pretend the sort of closeness that Erich does, so the distance between them is fine. No one will question her about it, not really, not when she only just met the man and cannot even speak his language.

Erich hums quietly and turns part of his attention outward, carefully gathering threads of natural power and pulling them into himself, into his soul, filling up his reserves with the steady-even-ancient power all around them. At his side, Alexis reaches out, reaches beyond, into the deep darkness where glittering sparks of life-strength-power gather into strange shapes; she gathers the wild power radiating from those sparks and takes it into her soul, smoothing away the raw, jagged edges and making it hers the same way he makes the forest’s natural strength his own.

Urahara’s breath catches as he turns his entire focus on them, wondering-curious-fascinated by what they’re doing; he even tentatively reaches beyond himself and closer to Erich, trying to investigate without intruding.

“This is why I can support you tomorrow,” Erich murmurs as he carefully makes the absorbed power his and then feeds it to Urahara, paying close attention to how empty the man’s reserves are; he doesn’t want to stress Urahara by attempting to force too much power into him, but he also doesn’t want to leave the man weakened for the march tomorrow. It’s a careful balance, but one he’s had experience with over the years.

“Can all Quincy do this? I mean, you’re both pulling from different sources, aren’t you? Is that… usual?” Urahara asks as he leans further into Erich’s back and turns his head slightly.

Erich shrugs a bit awkwardly and continues to pass Urahara power, trying to figure out how to phrase his answer. “Quincy… rely on the world around us, not… not inside us. Not really. We take your power and turn it against you.” The way Urahara stiffens at his words makes him scowl, and he reaches back to rest a hand on the man’s knee, pressing reassurance-apology-safety into their connection. “We don’t… steal,” he tries to clarify, stumbling over his words as he scrambles for the right way to explain. “We… take what is free? Loose. Available. Like what we’ve done tonight. Nothing… nothing from inside you.”

Urahara slowly relaxes at his stumbling explanation, his wariness replaced with even more curiosity, and asks, “What were those… things out there? I didn’t recognize them, but they were clearly empowered.”

Erich grimaces and lifts his hand from Urahara’s knee to scrub at the side of his nose, debating how best to answer that tangled mess; he doesn’t have even half the words he needs to explain the concept of legendary beings that no one has ever seen first hand, but that every Quincy knows are out there.

“Beloved?” Alexis asks softly, sensing his tangled emotions.

“He’s asking about them,” Erich answers with a wry smile. “He could apparently sense at least a bit of how we see the world, and he, ah… noticed our little neighbors.”

“Sounds like a conversation not to have out here,” she replies dryly. “I’d rather not draw their attention in the middle of their lands.”

Urahara makes a confused noise and twists around a bit more. “What is… I do not understand? You don’t… speak of it?”

“Some things are best left unsaid,” Erich answers in Akitsugo, then shrugs awkwardly when Urahara presses disbelief-puzzlement-curiosity towards him. “We can speak more when we aren’t in their territory.”

“I… see,” Urahara murmurs thoughtfully, then sighs and shakes his head, switching back to Akitsugo to say, “My reserves are mostly refilled now, you… don’t need to continue.”

Erich carefully passes just a bit more to Urahara before pulling back and releasing the last of the power he’d gathered. “Will you let me do so tomorrow?”

Urahara hesitates, clearly turning the idea over in his mind before finally, finally, making a soft noise of agreement. “So long as it does not stress you, I… I will accept. But if I sense you faltering…!”

“Trust me to know my limits,” Erich repeats firmly, then lifts Benihime from his lap and carefully rises to his feet to stretch. “We should go to sleep,” he says once he’s loosened his muscles a bit. “Morning will come early once more, and we need to keep the same pace as today.”

“Wonderful,” Alexis mutters as she, too, rises to her feet and starts to make her slow way through the dark to where they’d set their bedrolls out. “Just what I always wanted, to be part of an army.”

Erich chuckles softly and follows. “It’s only for a bit longer, love. Then… I think all of us will welcome the chance to… be something else.”

She hums, leaves rustling as she settles on a bedroll and her weight shifts the pile they’d made. “That’s understandable, love. Once the war is over… well, I doubt anyone will complain if you retire.”

“They better not,” Erich grumbles as he pauses, then turns back towards where he can sense Urahara lingering awkwardly and says, “Come, we all need rest and the nights get cold without proper bedding.”

“But… you, ah… earlier…”

Erich grits his teeth and tugs lightly on Urahara’s power, silently urging the man closer. “Urahara Kisuke, a few nights sleeping next to you will not kill me. Come. To. Bed.”

His words startle a laugh from Urahara and, more importantly, ease some of the man’s uncertainty. “Maa, maa, so insistent,” he murmurs as he slips closer. “But if you’re certain…”

“I am,” Erich says, shoving aside the edge of nervousness that he can feel gnawing at his mind; he is… reasonably certain that Urahara doesn’t mean him any harm at this point, not after everything that’s happened and everything he’s sensed from the man.

(Now if only he could convince his instincts of that…)

(Ugh.)

With a soft sigh that’s more exhausted that he’d like, he lowers himself to the makeshift bed, grimacing at the rustle of leaves and the feel of hard-unyielding-cold ground just below it; as much as he hates camp beds, even that would be better than sleeping on the ground in his opinion. Still, there’s no help for it, he just… needs to make do.

(He can do that.)

(Just for a few more days.)

(Just a few…)