Title: Normal
A/N: Well, here we are at the finish line; this is the last chapter. To everybody who's been reading, I hope you enjoyed the ride, and to those of you who gave feedback, thank you. See you in the funny papers.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

When he gets word that Ryuuken wants to speak to him, Uryuu goes only with trepidation. However much he's willing to admit that he has no idea why Ryuuken wants to talk to him, he does know that the conversation is supposed to take place in the old house. No matter how much everything else might change, Uryuu will never be able to regard his childhood home as anything but a prison.

He didn't sound angry, Uryuu muses hopefully as he nears the place where he had once lived. Maybe he wants to talk about something else.

That's Uryuu's dearest hope, that when they speak, Ryuuken won't bring up the broken promise and his departure from the training area. He wants things to be different this time, for whatever sort of conversation they have not to devolve into accusations and bitterness. He's tired of arguments, tired of the anger, tired of everything.

After everything that's happened, I don't want to argue with you anymore. Don't you think I want things to be better this time? Don't you think I always hope that things will be better, and that we can finally stop trying to rip each other's throats out? Please don't have called me here just to argue.

Those hopes are dashed when Uryuu hears the words "So… You went to Hueco Mundo," spoken in a dry, but unmistakably sharp tone, a pointed question hidden inside of a statement. Knots gripping his stomach with a cold hand, Uryuu braces himself for what comes next.

Maybe it will still be alright. Those words see more feeble now, but Uryuu, trying to be hopeful, is careful to keep his tone mild when he speaks. "Yes, I did."

The sun is sinking over rooftops and naked trees, flooding the office with ruddy crimson light. Ryuuken is standing close to a bookcase, flipping through one of his heavy texts. He seems more comfortable letting his eyes peruse the explanation of some complicated surgery than he is with gazing upon his son, who stands a few feet away, hovering near the doorway for a quick escape if one is needed. The chilly air grows close and thick, more difficult to breathe with every passing moment.

This scene closely mirrors one of ten years ago, Ryuuken initiating a confrontation without even looking Uryuu in the eye, and Uryuu on the defensive, waiting apprehensively for the next words, hope fading like dew assaulted by the dawn sun. I won't give in to fear of him like I did then, though. This whole thing is daunting, but I will keep my head. I'm not dwarfed by him like I used to be; I can nearly look him in the eye now. I won't be ruled by fear of him. I will stand my ground.

In the otherwise resounding silence, Ryuuken's sigh is as loud as the roaring of the wind during a typhoon. "And you went there because a friend of yours had been kidnapped, correct?"

Uryuu nods cautiously, fingernails biting so deeply into his palms that he expects a copper tang to permeate the air at any moment. "Yes, I did." And nothing you say to me will ever be enough to make me regret it, he adds silently.

Crisp pages crack the air as they are turned, Ryuuken flipping through the book in search of a particular page. "Correct me if I am wrong," Ryuuken says, with the sort of tone that indicates that "corrections" will not be considered even remotely welcome. "The friend who was abducted, one Inoue Orihime, is a close associate of the Shinigami, and the two you went to rescue her with are also associates of the Shinigami."

No answer comes, either in the way of affirmation or denial. From the half-view Uryuu has of Ryuuken's face, he can see his eyes narrowing, but he can't discern any of the emotions connected with that action. "Furthermore, the only reason any of the three of you were able to cross into Hueco Mundo at all was through the intervention of the Shinigami, Urahara-san."

He is going there after all. Again, Uryuu says nothing, and after a moment's wait, Ryuuken continues on. "Unless there is something about the situation that I am misinterpreting, you have broken the terms of our agreement not to associate with the Shinigami or their companions any longer." Ryuuken's voice is suddenly even colder than the frigid 69°F air. "Would you care to explain yourself, Uryuu?"

There comes silence again, but not because Uryuu is lost for words. The hard, boiling lump in his throat seems to set his skin on fire, uneven patches of color forming at the top of his cheeks. Why does it have to come to this? There are so many things I could say, so many explanations, and he won't accept any of them, I'm sure. Loopholes mean nothing to him; they are nothing more than a lousy way to mask disobedience. I doubt he would respond to any attempts to appeal to a sense of compassion… Ha! What sense of compassion?

Ryuuken's lip curls, both derisive and bitter. "Have you nothing to say, Uryuu?" he asks, and Uryuu doesn't think he's imagining the mocking note buried deep within the voice made hoarse and ragged by a decades-long smoking habit. "Won't you make some attempt to defend your actions? Or have you simply given up on speech?"

If you really want it… Uryuu can keep silent no longer; the myriad caustic words eroding his throat won't let him. "Urahara-san came and found me, and told me what had happened." His voice is quieter than what Uryuu thought it would be; still, he can barely keep that same voice from cracking on the enunciation of every word. "How could I just sit by without doing anything, knowing what I did?"

"Because you had given your word not to," Ryuuken answers immediately, strangely businesslike in the way he hammers out each word. "I never said it would be easy, Uryuu, and you must have known that yourself. You never agreed that you would keep your word gladly, only that you would keep it. And you couldn't even do that."

There really is nothing in him I can appeal to, Uryuu realizes, gritting his teeth. Why does it have to be like this? Why does it always have to be like this?

"If that's the case, then keeping a promise would make me a pretty poor friend," Uryuu retorts hotly. "What kind of person doesn't go help their friends when they're in danger?"

"And you don't think that agreeing to cut off contact with them in the first place doesn't make you a poor friend?" Ryuuken scoffs, and Uryuu feels his face burn hot with shame. Don't go there. Not again. Don't you dare. All Uryuu can think of now is how badly he wants to leave. "Uryuu, if you didn't know what abiding by the terms of our agreement would be difficult, then your sense of foresight is woefully deficient. I don't care how much it hurt, or how much what Urahara-san said frightened you; you should have kept your word. There is no excuse for violating the terms of a clearly-worded contract. No excuse whatsoever."

The crisp sound of turning pages has long since ceased. Ryuuken's eyes no longer scan the pages—instead, they go straight through the book itself—but Uryuu takes no pleasure in knowing that he's managed to break Ryuuken's icy composure. He feels as though his bones will catch fire at any moment, and the lump in his throat grows harder and heavier with each breath.

Breathe. Remember to breathe. I can't live if I don't breathe. But for God's sake, what's so good about living anyways?

"Fine," he mutters, staring down at the floor; Uryuu's shoulders slump, slightly, the heat suddenly starting to dissipate. "Fine. If that's how you look at this, then I guess I have broken my promise. I did go running off with the Shinigami and their "associates"," he spits bitterly. "But I don't care what you think of that. If loyalty to my friends means breaking a promise made to you, then I think I know what I'm going to choose."

You've never given me much reason to feel any loyalty towards you. This might be the last conversation we ever have, and I really didn't want it to go like this, but you must know that. If I am loyal to anyone, it's to people who have actually shown signs of caring about me beyond the fact that they're obliged to make sure that I live to see adulthood.

"So you admit that your word is worthless?" Ryuuken's incisive tone cuts far deeper beneath Uryuu's skin than it ought to; his unmoving eyes still hover over the book he holds.

Why won't you just let it lie and let me leave? Why do you have to drag this out every time? Why do I have to keep rising to the bait? Can't we just reach some agreement, go our separate ways and never talk to each other again? That's probably the best way this could end?

In this moment, Uryuu wishes he could hate him. Stinging with disappointment and bitterness, there are no words to describe how much he wishes he could hate Ryuuken. If he could hate him, truly hate him and feel no other emotions towards him, then Uryuu would be able to cut off all ties to Ryuuken with ease. Uryuu would be able to go his whole life without seeing him again and never feel so much as a pang of guilt. And if he could hate him, these arguments, these disappointments wouldn't hurt the way that they do.

But he can't. There's still feeling, still emotions there that have nothing to do with hate. No matter what Ryuuken acts like now, Uryuu can still remember the days when he was a little kinder, a little more like a human being, a little more like a father. It was such a long time ago, and even then, Uryuu was never given much, but he can't forget it no matter how hard he tries. Why couldn't it have just stayed like that? Would it really have been so bad? Compared to what things are like between us now, back then was positively heaven.

"If that's what it takes to make you let me leave…" Uryuu squeezes his eyes tightly shut, drawing his tongue over his dry lips "…then yes, I do." Okay, fine. You got what you wanted; I've debased myself for your amusement. Now just let me go.

Ryuuken slams the book shut with one hand and puts it back on the shelf. Then, he looks at Uryuu for the first time since Uryuu came here.

Unlike the conversation they had ten years, when Ryuuken gave his terse, still-perplexing explanation of his antipathy towards the Quincy lifestyle, Ryuuken has not totally retained his composure. There's something tugging at the corner of his lip, making it curl back to reveal his teeth. Emotion sparks like firecrackers behind his eyes; though Uryuu can't be entirely sure, he thinks what he sees is anger, or at least irritation.

You're always looking for an excuse to be angry with me, aren't you? Anything to put me in my place again. That face is taut as bed sheets trying to cover a bed too small. Uryuu can't help but meet his eyes, no matter how little he wants to do anything but turn his eyes away and flee.

After a long moment of this, no one daring to speak, Ryuuken nods briskly. "Alright, then." Before Uryuu can make a move to leave, he goes on. "There will be no further training; there's no longer any point to that, I think. I can imagine how fervently relieved you are to hear that," Ryuuken needles caustically.

A burst of flame flares in Uryuu's stomach. "Anything else?" he asks tightly.

"Yes." Ryuuken reaches for a thick manila expanding file folder sitting on his desk and abruptly tosses it in Uryuu's direction. Uryuu barely manages to lift his hands in time to catch the file folder before it hits him in the face. Even then, he fumbles with the file and nearly drops it. It's heavy, he realizes, frowning down at it. What's in it?

Ryuuken seems to sense Uryuu's unasked question. "The rest of your grandfather's notes; I have no further use for them." Uryuu stares incredulously at him; What? "Take them and get out," Ryuuken states dismissively. He goes back to perusing through books, pointedly ignoring his son.

Uryuu is all too glad to leave.

-0-0-0-

After Uryuu is gone, Ryuuken puts his book down and sighs heavily, staring out the window. The daylight is nearly gone now; he really ought to turn on his desk lamp if he wants to see enough to be able to get out of the room without running into a bookcase.

Well… That went about as well as I expected it to.

Ryuuken remembers the emotions that had flooded him when he saw Uryuu for the first time after the boy came back from Hueco Mundo. In that moment, all anger, disapproval, irritation and everything else he thought he felt disappeared like smoke blown away by the wind. Instead, there was numbness, and an odd tightening in his throat, and the urge to say something, not admonition but something else, even if those words were never actualized.

What was that, anyways? Completely unexpected, the jolt of emotion had kept Ryuuken from saying anything, and eventually, with a strange suggestion of a smile on his face, Uryuu sidestepped him, and continued on towards his apartment. They said nothing that night.

The strange emotions were banished soon enough, as Ryuuken remembered exactly what Uryuu had done, and what still had to be said to him. Now, he sits at his desk and balances his fingers, spread far across the stiff cover.

I gave the boy the rest of his grandfather's notes. What he does with them is none of my business. Now that the Shinigami have stopped fighting one another and the danger has passed, there's no longer any need to have him come to the hospital for "training." And if he wants to disregard the terms of our agreement, then I no longer care about it. I know his opinions, know his nature, know his foolishness. The promise is broken; no use crying over spilled milk. Uryuu can do what he wants.

Uryuu will probably go back to hunting Hollows after the fall of night soon, if he hasn't already. Even with the training he's received, even with the improved focus and execution of hirenkyaku, the boy's so reckless that he could very well have survived fights with Arrancar only to be killed by a regular Hollow.

Ryuuken grits his teeth and rubs his forehead; Ah, there's the pain again. For a moment, Ryuuken reflects that he didn't spend a month drilling Uryuu, losing a great deal of sleep and energy in the process, just for the boy to go and get himself killed, something jolting in his chest, but Ryuuken banishes the thought irritably.

Uryuu is old enough to make his own decisions, old enough to do what he wants. If doing what he wants entails getting himself killed, then so be it. I don't care anymore. I don't.

-0-0-0-

I should have known better. I was so stupid. What sort of sign did he ever give me to make me think that things would be different this time?

Uryuu adjusts the stiff collar of his school uniform's jacket, standing on the sidewalk outside of the old house. The strap of his bag cuts into his shoulder, and sliding the folder given to him among the textbooks, binders and pencils doesn't make it any better, but Uryuu ignores the pain driving into his skin and instead stares fiercely at the pavement, struggling to swallow on the bile in his throat.

I go off somewhere where I could easily be killed and when I get back, all he wants to talk about is the fact that I broke a promise I made to him in order to do it. He doesn't ask if I'm alright, doesn't ask if I was hurt, doesn't even seem to care that I could have been killed. That's normal for him, I guess. But why couldn't it have been different tonight?

Why do I fool myself into believing that it will be different? He hasn't changed, and neither have I. Unless we become completely different people than what we are now, things are never going to be better.

That doesn't mean I didn't want them to be.

Swallowing hard, forcing down all the anger still clinging stubbornly to his throat and the inside of his chest, Uryuu casts one long, last look at the house, not knowing if he will ever be able to tear his eyes again. He can't honestly say he was ever really happy here; there aren't too many happy memories of significant weight that he can attach to this house. This was really more the place he went to after school and slept at than anything else. 'Home' was probably too strong a term no matter how old Uryuu was; there wasn't anything about it that was all that 'homey.' But still…

I wonder why he gave me those notes. It's not like he's ever really been all that enthusiastic about "enabling me." Then again, if he was so determined not to "enable me", he probably wouldn't have made me come to the hospital nearly every night for a month and had me train. He wouldn't have taught me anything.

You say you don't want me going after Hollows, and then you turn around and teach me how to better fight them, and then you give me Grandfather's notes. Don't you have any idea just how contradictory your behavior is? Does what you do make any sense even to you? Or are you just as confused as I am?

Come on, I have to go. Uryuu would rather not still be out here when Ryuuken emerges to smoke a few cigarettes, as he does nearly every night—if he's continued the habit, that is. That would be disastrous, would probably only lead to another argument, and right now, Uryuu doesn't think he's ever wanted to argue less in his life. Why couldn't it have been better?

Oh, wait, I know why. We haven't changed at all. We're too similar. We tear at each other, do everything we can to poke, needle, hurt, wound. We just can't stand seeing contentment on the other's face—we do everything we can to make them be in pain.

Trying to believe it could ever be otherwise… I… Trying to believe that… was probably just a delusion on my part. A pipe dream, that's all it was. A fantasy, a child's ill-thought, ill-executed fantasy. Just a… Just a stupid dream.

Uryuu sighs, and finally tears his gaze away the house. Goodbye. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and starts the long walk towards home.