Disclaimer: I own neither Bleach nor the characters therein

Little One

Ryuuken's delivered dozens of babies. Not one of them has ever been special. Just babies. But this one is.

This one's a normal baby: mouth, nose, ten fingers, ten toes. Ryuuken's sure: he's counted, several times. Just to make sure. This one's red and wrinkled and smells of baby powder. His eyes are big, wide. The deepest blue that Ryuuken's ever seen. Precious little eyes.

He wakes slowly. Curious. Intelligent. He's a smart one. No doubt the head of his class when he starts school.

His lips quiver when he yawns. On his head there's a puff of soft black hair. Little rumpled peach fuzz. It's a strong black, as far from grey as black can be. Ryuuken's glad. No teasing for this boy.

His arms and legs stretch tremulously out, stiff little lovely frail arms and legs. Ryuuken's held many babies before, but it frightens him: that if they're held wrong, these frail little arms and legs can break like twigs. But Ryuuken holds him anyway, and the baby isn't frightened. He sucks on the bottle Ryuuken holds, slurping little noises, messily. Milk dribbles down his chin. He gurgles when Ryuuken wipes it off. An almost laugh.

Ryuuken smiles back.

He's so soft. Cuddly. Ryuuken wraps a hand around his back and brings him up against his shoulder. Breaths even out as he slumbers off, asleep again, small short breaths right next to Ryuuken's ear. Such a tiny, breathing, heart-beating little thing: It's a marvel.

He stays silent as Ryuuken rocks back and forth, back and forth, back and forth on the rocking chair. Ryuuken is content. Welcome to the world, little Uryuu. My son.

Precious baby boy.