Author's Note: This story is adopted from Mitsukini Haninozuka. They adopted it from TheBlackSeaReaper before losing interest in the fandom. I have since changed a lot but would greatly appreciate feedback. I am unsure where I will take this story, but I plan to at least get through edits for the chapters that already exist.

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The last thing that Jūshiro Ukitake remembered was pain. He had been half-heartedly fighting the child Arrancar, the companion of the Primera Espada Starrk, before she had transformed into a weapon in a manner not unlike a Shinigami's zanpakutō. He hated seeing children on the battlefield, but they were enemies and she had made her choice. Not that he wouldn't still offer her an out if he could, but her temperament made that unlikely. It was too bad, he liked her fire and he could tell that his friend Shunsui liked what he saw of the Primera as well. However, as followers of the traitorous captain, Sōsuke Aizen, this Starrk and his companion could not be allowed to live. Watching Shunsui's battle, he was pleased to see him relatively unhurt and faring well against the espada.

As he looked on, the battle seemed to draw to a close, Shunsui preparing to give the finishing blow to Starrk. As it landed, however, Jūshiro realized something was wrong. Then the pain hit. Looking down, Jushiro felt a flash of surprise as he saw the blade of Sōsuke Aizen piercing his heart. He had just enough time to look up at his friend when darkness took over.

The next thing that Jūshiro was aware of was being carried by a giant man, one that was as big or even bigger than Zaraki, and who was driving a flying contraption. Jūshiro believed it was called a motorcycle, but he had thought it a ground-bound vehicle. Confused at how he had appeared here (wherever here was), he tried to move his head to look around. He was concerned to find it very difficult – in fact his entire body was weak and not responding to his attempts. Careful experimentation led him to one conclusion: he was in an infant's body. Shuddering as he reached that conclusion, he despaired, for he knew that he had been reincarnated. His sadness was for the fact that he would probably never see his best friend, Shunsui Kyouraku, and his division in the Seireitei ever again. Even if he did, they would not recognize him.

Suddenly, a more positive thought occurred to him: he was in a new body! That meant that he wouldn't have his illness anymore! It had plagued him for his entire life as a Shinigami, a life that had stretched millennia. The foremost healer in Soul Society, Captain Unohana hadn't been able to get rid of it, only tentatively identify it as something similar to a human disease called tuberculosis. Nothing she had tried worked, and the human remedies didn't translate well to a spirit's body.

While thinking on this, Jūshiro realized that he was in a very strange situation. He was thinking, and he was aware. Not that it was a bad thing, but he knew he had died. He was beyond grateful for a second chance at life as isolated as he would likely be, but the fact of his death remained unchanged. He should not have been self-aware at his current physical age, nor should he have retained his memories. Millennia of records and belief in the Soul Society said that souls that joined the cycle after death were wiped clean and thus were blanks slates. His existence was an anomaly, he shouldn't remember his life. Still, he did, and he would make the most of it.

Perhaps, he would be able to rejoin his division after his next life ended – even if he had to rejoin the Academy and work his way up from the bottom. However, that was (hopefully) a long way off, given that he was alive at present and still a very young child. It also didn't answer a very important question: why could he remember his past life? All of his knowledge gathered in the millennia of his existence said it wasn't possible. But here he was: alive, with memories and without any reason why.

Soon, it became too much for him to deal with and with the gentle rocking, he quickly fell asleep.

It had been ten years since that night. Whoever that giant man had been, he had left Jūshiro with a family, presumably in hopes that they would raise him. Unfortunately for Jūshiro, his first introduction to his new "family" had been the scream of his Aunt when she found him on her doorstep. That had been his first clue that this new life would be less than pleasant. This family he had found himself with was apparently his current body's Aunt, Uncle and cousin. From what little he could gather his Aunt had been his mother's sister. He was apparently a little over a year old when he had been placed in their care and Jūshiro regretted that he could not remember his current body's birth family. The only knowledge he had of his birth family was the few scraps his Aunt would share when she was in a particularly good mood, something that was rare with his presence in her home.

Her name was Petunia Dursley and her maiden name had been Evans. She wouldn't say what her parents' names were, so he didn't know his grandparents. There weren't any pictures either, so he didn't even know their faces. He had been lucky enough to gather that his mother's name was Lily. For some reason, though, Petunia hated talking about her. Mention of her was often enough to sour their interactions for days. It took many years of patience before Jūshiro learned the name of his new father: James Potter. If Petunia hated talking about Lily, (a reaction that seemed almost like jealousy), she absolutely despised James. Something about him had simply rubbed her wrong and nothing Jūshiro asked ever gave hints at what that could be. Jūshiro's new name, it appeared, was Harry Potter.

Jūshiro's new uncle was a man by the name of Vernon Dursley. He was a large man by normal standards; heavy in build, but also heavy with the overindulgence of one who had never lacked for creature comforts. He was an employee at a company called Grunning's Drills, a British company. Jūshiro had discovered that he had been reborn in, or at least relocated to, England. His new home was in a small, heavily suburban, city known as Surrey. Jūshiro's explorations of the area around his new home showed a neighborhood of almost identical housing and a social scene that was as cut-throat as it was petty.

This social scene was reflected onto the upbringing of his cousin: a boy, a couple months off his physical age, named Dudley. Dudley wasn't the brightest of boys, but he was quickly acknowledged as the leader of the local hooligans due to his father's status compared to the other boys' fathers. All this boiled down to: his cousin was a bit of a bully because he had never been taught otherwise. Jūshiro, with the benefit of having a lifetime of memories as a mature adult, tried his best to teach Dudley how to interact with his peers without being a bully, but it was an uphill battle at best. Jūshiro, being physically Dudley's own age, and treated poorly at best by his parents, meant that he had no authority to use on Dudley. Any influence he wanted to exert had to be subtle. Or at least that had been the case.

Over the last decade, Jūshiro had made a most unpleasant discovery: his illness wasn't gone. He had no idea why, he was in a completely different body, but it had re-emerged. This made his new life very difficult. Jūshiro was well aware that his aunt and uncle wanted little to do with him (which made him wonder why they didn't just give him up for adoption) and so he could not get any sort of treatment for his illness. They fed him, clothed him and sent him to school, but they would do no more than those very basic of necessities for him. Doctor visits were not included in those basics. On top of that, he was to earn his keep by performing chores: things like cleaning and cooking. Physical things, that aggravated his illness by forcing his body beyond his current limits. He was lucky that in keeping up appearances for the neighbors, his aunt and uncle fed him enough that he did not grow up without the needed nutrition to survive.

Jūshiro's illness took many years to fully return, years during which he took pains to hide his affliction. He could not afford to anger his relatives too much, for fear that their tenuous (if unspoken) agreement to ignore each other would break. It had worked for a while, but one day it wasn't enough.

Dudley had grown into an active, if spoiled, child. He had grown used to his power over the other children he encountered and had progressed to the point that he felt the need to enforce this power over any that he felt had not submitted properly. In plain terms, Dudley was a right little terror to anyone and everyone. He never felt the consequences, because his parents never believed that their precious child could possibly be in the wrong. Dudley gathered a group of children who enjoyed lording it over the others and together they terrorized the children of the neighborhood. Many of their "games" including chasing down the victim. Luckily, they had yet to continue their activities to the point of an actual beating, but if they had not been stopped that would have been the next step.

A favorite victim of theirs had been Jūshiro. For all his knowledge gained from living a long life already, Jūshiro could not draw upon his former physical strength. He was human now, and a child at that – if only physically. This meant that while he was not actually intimidated by the children who sought to "rule" the playground, he could not yet defend himself. He was reduced to fleeing the group led by his cousin, a cousin who had no reason not to chase him – there was no true familial connection due to his parents' disregard of Jūshiro.

Unfortunately for Jūshiro, his illness made his escape difficult on the best of days. On one day in particular though, his illness created both the worst and best outcome.

- Flashback -

Jūshiro was running from his cousin and his group, desperately trying to keep ahead. It had been a long day, full of one bad thing after another. He had woken up late and his chest had been hurting. He had been given a longer than normal list of chores and a smaller amount of time in which to do them. His homework for school had been "mysteriously" vanished and his teacher had been upset enough to single him out for a "talk" after school. All of this had added up to one very bad day for Jūshiro. Unfortunately, it was about to get worse.

He had just made it to the park nearby (one with plenty of hiding spots among the trees), when he was overtaken by one of his coughing fits. His illness caused fits where he couldn't breathe, and he would cough and cough until finally stopping. On the bad days, like the current one was shaping up to be, he didn't stop until he was coughing up blood. He had so far gotten lucky that these bad fits were at times when he was alone, so he could hide the evidence i.e. wash off the blood before someone noticed – but as stated before, this was a bad day.

While he was coughing, his cousin and his group caught up to him. They called out to him, jeering about how he was a wimp that couldn't run without coughing. Shoving him around and laughing at his attempts to get away.

"Not so fast, now, are you Potter?" one of the boys sneered.

Jūshiro couldn't answer, his coughing fit only getting worse until he started hacking up blood. The boys finally noticed that something was wrong. He could feel the wetness covering his hands and knew that they were now covered in blood.

"Will you stop that coughing!" Dudley said as he pulled Jūshiro's hand away from his mouth. Dudley faltered when he saw the blood on Jūshiro's hand. Many in the neighborhood believed that Dudley was stupid, but he was smart enough to know that something was very wrong when he saw the blood on his cousin's hand. He wasn't the only one to notice the blood.

"What's up with that? Why are you bleeding? We didn't touch you!" another boy exclaimed. The boys shifted uneasily, now aware that something was wrong and not knowing the cause.

His coughing finally abating, Jūshiro answered: "As you have probably figured out now, I'm sick. I have been for a while. I start coughing and can't control it, and when it gets bad enough I cough up blood. It also makes it hard to breathe, so I feel weak all the time." Having said his part, and not seeing any more hostile movements from the boys surrounding him, Jūshiro slumped down against a nearby tree while wiping his hands on the grass.

Dudley was confused, he had seen his cousin do all sorts of things around the house and elsewhere, and he had never seemed to have trouble. He had never seemed to need explanations either, for that matter, and had seemed very independent and just untouchable in the way that nothing seemed to bother him very long. He moved closer to Jūshiro and sat down nearby, feeling awkward about approaching the cousin he apparently didn't actually know. Taking their cues from Dudley, the other boys also gathered near.

"But, if you are sick, why did I never notice? Why haven't Mum and Dad taken you to the doctor's?" Dudley was struggling with the idea that his cousin was sick enough to cough blood but had hidden it well enough that he had only found out today. "When did you get sick? Do you know what it is?" morbid curiosity and a surprising want to know his cousin prompted Dudley to continue asking. The other boys seemed curious as well, if only because he was. None of them had seen an illness as serious as Jūshiro's seemed to be.

"I have something called tuberculosis. It's an illness that affects your lungs, making it hard to breathe and making you cough. It doesn't go away after a while like a cold does. It just builds up and continues getting worse; unless you get the right medicine of course." Pausing to breathe for a bit, Jūshiro looked around the park, noting the lack of people around while wondering how much he could tell the boys before it would go over their heads. He had already decided to explain his illness as the closest human equivalent, rather than the mystery it actually was. "I have had this illness for pretty much the entire time I have lived with you, Dudley – I'm just very good at hiding it. It wouldn't matter if I didn't hide it, though, you know as well as I do that your parents refuse to take me to any kind of doctor."

Dudley shifted, a bit uncomfortable, realizing that his cousin was right. His parents wouldn't care, even if they did know. And it confused him more; if he was the one sick, his parents would have done anything and everything they could to help him get better.

"Why don't they take you to the doctor's?" another boy asked, "My mum takes me every year at least! And every time I get sick, too." The boys in Dudley's group all went to school together, so they all knew each other, but Jūshiro had an odd reputation among the children. They knew something was off about him, and he always seemed to know what was going on. He could explain things the adults said, if they got up the courage to ask. Of course, being odd, the children didn't know how to act around him and so they often tried to pick on him. Still, he never seemed to hold grudges and he was happy to explain whatever he was asked.

"That's something hard to answer. They don't like me. They never said why, but Dudley's parents think that I'm a bad person and shouldn't be given more than I absolutely need." Jūshiro wasn't sure how to explain. Not only did he have to explain a borderline neglectful family, but the children had no frame of reference for what was normal nor any concept of abuse. Not to mention, they would talk about anything he told them, and it would eventually get back to the parents and therefore the gossip of the neighborhood. Once it got that far, his relatives would hear of it and his situation would only worsen. Since they hadn't put him up for adoption despite obviously not liking his presence, there must have been a reason. One that he didn't want to chance before he knew more. Besides, he could deal with the status quo until he was of legal age.

The boys weren't sure what to make of this. They knew that he had always told the truth before, but it simply didn't compute for them. Their parents always took care of them. Always made sure they had what they needed. Even those from the poorer families in the neighborhood went to the doctor's when they needed to, and they got toys and such when they wanted.

Jūshiro started coughing again, though thankfully not as badly as before. He was tired from his fits during the day and was not looking forward to going home and dealing with his relatives.

Listening to his coughing fit, the boys looked at each other and agreed. They would stop chasing him. The kinder among them decided to approach if he looked like he needed help. They didn't understand why Dudley's parents wouldn't take him to the doctor's, but maybe if they helped him he would get better?

- End Flashback -

Since then, Dudley and his friends have been helping Jūshiro when the chores that his aunt and uncle give him became too much for him to handle. In exchange, Jūshiro would help them out with their homework.

The meeting in the park became a permanent thing. After school they would meet up and work on schoolwork, before the boys would play with Jūshiro watching. Sometimes he would join in, and sometimes he would suggest a new game for them to play.

It was weird, but it worked. Jūshiro was a kid, but the other children knew that he was more than that. They started to treat him as a trusted go-between for figuring out what the adults meant. Jūshiro shared stories of his life before, censoring and adjusting as needed, but using the adventures to teach the children he found himself surrounded by. They eventually figured out that the stories were more than just stories and called Jūshiro by name. By that point, he was theirs and second life or no, that wasn't going to change.

The initial gathering of children – those who were in Dudley's group – expanded gradually over the years. As they grew older, they drew in those younger than them, helping everyone that wanted to join. The children all knew that Jūshiro was sick, but they also knew that none of the adults noticed or cared. Having grown attached, they all decided to pitch in and help him when they could. All the adults noticed was that their children were unusually attached to the park. They were content, however, since it was a safe zone to let the children loose. And when their work still got done, the parents were happy enough to let the kids do as they pleased.

Dudley, along with the other children, had grown attached to his cousin. He wanted Jūshiro to get better and had tried to get his parents to take him to the doctor's. Nothing he tried worked, but at least his cousin now had a room to live in instead of the cupboard he had been in before. Dudley had noticed, over the years, that his parents had strange reactions to certain things and were very concerned about how normal they were. And yet, they also treated his cousin very strangely. He had figured out what Jūshiro meant by his parents not liking him and did not like what that implied about their interactions. He had been devastated when he had finally made the connection between their actions towards Jūshiro and the abuse of a child. He was glad that Jūshiro seemed alright, but still, realizing that the same parents that loved him so much were capable of abuse had changed the boy.

Jūshiro, for his part, was just happy to have his own room – a space he could call his own. He enjoyed teaching the children and loved seeing their joy and awe when told stories. He loved watching the moment when they understood a concept they had been struggling with, on their schoolwork or in general. He certainly hadn't set out to gather the children around him, nor had he intended for anyone to know about his past, but some of the smarter children had put the pieces together. He didn't regret how things turned out, simply happy that he could help whoever needed it. He wasn't sure why none of the adults had caught on, the number of children that knew his past surely meant that it was only a matter of time before they would hear of it! Of course, the adults would have to realize that it was more than childish imagination and then connect his name with the new one of Harry Potter.

Unfortunately for Jūshiro, the years took their toll on his body. With the illness setting in at such an early age, he hadn't had a chance to build up his body. So he wasted away as the illness ravaged an adolescent's body instead of an adult's. His situation at home hadn't changed much either. He was still given chores and such to earn his keep and he was still hiding much of his illness. Dudley pitched in to help with the chores, the realization about his parents causing him to try and make it up to Jūshiro however he could. This, of course, made Jūshiro feel guilty. He had always been independent and hated causing more work for others, but with his body as it was, he could do nothing but except the help. He hated being a burden.

Jūshiro coughed again, curling in on himself as he rode out another fit. Dudley was hovering nearby, worried about the him but unable to do anything to help. Jūshiro grimaced at the situation. The entire family had been relocated by his uncle. Something about the letters that had been swarming the house for the last week or so.

- Flashback -

It had started innocently, with a single letter delivered normally. Jūshiro had gathered the mail as told and passed it to his aunt before continuing his meal. However, the morning peace had been shattered by a shriek, his aunt staring at a letter in the stack.

"Aunt Petunia? Is something wrong?" Jūshiro had asked, worried about what could have caused such an extreme reaction.

"Nothing boy, mind your own business and clean up after the meal." After saying so, she had turned to Vernon murmuring something about boy, freaks and no signs. She had ripped up the letter and thrown it to the fireplace, seeming relieved that it was gone.

However, that had only been the beginning. There had been more similar looking letters the following day, enough that Jūshiro had noticed that they were addressed to a Harry James Potter, in other words: himself. When he had asked his aunt about them, she had reacted as if he had mentioned his father again and told him off as harshly as she could while shaking. Those letters, too, had ended up in the fireplace.

The next days were followed by more and more of the letters, each carefully confiscated by his aunt or uncle, especially when Dudley had tried to get one to bring to him. That had been the first time that either boy had seen them punish him, whatever the letters were had shaken them badly.

Their attempts to avoid the letters grew over the week, including barring the windows and nailing closed the mail slot. Nothing seemed to work, whoever was trying to contact Jūshiro was persistent, leaving him curious as to just who it was. No one had contacted him before, he was just the orphan boy the Dursleys had taken in in the eyes of the adults; all the children had other ways to contact him.

Jūshiro's aunt and uncle grew so stressed with avoiding the letters, that they had decided to relocate, dragging the boys with them. Neither boy knew what to expect, simply told to get in the car. Vernon had driven to a remote beach with a pier. They were then taken out to an island with a small shack on it, only a small boat being their connection with the mainland. Vernon and Petunia seemed to finally relax. A storm had sprung up while they were settling in on the island, trying to make the shack habitable. It was very dusty, and it looked like someone had not cleaned it, nor done any maintenance on it, in about twenty years.

- End Flashback -

Finally, Jūshiro's coughing subsided, and he drank the glass of water that Dudley handed to him. "Thank you for the water, Dudley," he said, happy for the help and feeling guilty for worrying his cousin again. Unfortunately, the shack was determined to cause him problems, the dust triggering coughing fit after coughing fit.

"No problem. Are you going to be alright?" Dudley asked.

"For now. If no one stirs up the dust," Jūshiro replied as he laid down to rest; that coughing fit had taken a toll on his already weak body.

Jūshiro didn't know what to make of the letters. He didn't know who would want to talk to him so badly, and he was worried about what it could mean. He was also worried about what the letters could do to the already tenuous at best status quo between himself and the elder Dursleys. His aunt, for one, had already started treating him worse during what little interactions they had had since the beginning of the mess. Neither of the elder Dursleys were in a hurry to interact with him though, so he couldn't be sure.

He had toyed with the thought that the letters were from someone in Soul Society but had eventually dismissed the possibility. None of his friends used normal postage like the letters, nor would they have bombarded the Dursleys with letter after letter like the mysterious sender had. His only clue was his aunt's reaction: it seemed connected to whatever made her hate his parents.

"It would be best if you got some rest, Jūshiro," Dudley interrupted his train of thought. They were alone, so he called him by name. The elder Dursleys were already in bed for the night, having crashed after the exodus earlier.

"Of course. I'm sorry for being a burden on you, Dudley," Jūshiro responded, aware that Dudley was only still up because he noticed the latest coughing fit.

"It's alright. Night, Jūshiro," Dudley said before yawning. He laid down next to Jūshiro, hoping to share whatever warmth they could in the small shack they had been brought to.

"Goodnight, Dudley," Jūshiro said, before closing his eyes to get his much-needed sleep to recover from the coughing. They went to sleep, not knowing that at midnight something was going to happen, something that would change their lives forever.

- Chapter End -

Author's Note: I will continue to edit the chapters as I post new ones, please check the list for the newest date to see if I have changed anything since you read it last. Please let me know if any problems or odd phrasing stand out and I will fix it as I have time. Thanks for reading!

Edit List

-February 28, 2018

-December 27, 2018