A long time ago there lived an old man with his adorable grandson in the humble town of Karakura. Said old man was none other than the First Quincy, Ishida Souken whose hair had whitened with age. Despite the bloody history he lived through as the wielder of the Holy Cross, his smile was ever gentle and infectious. Under broad daylight on lush, green grass, Ishida Uryuu, an untainted, bespectacled little boy no older than six cantered along his grandfather as they swapped jokes and stories. They approached a glade in the core of the city's reserved forest where not many know about, save for the caretakers. Even then, usually it was only Souken and Uryuu occupying the space. This was where they trained.

Uryuu, as the descendant of the extinct Quincy clan was absolutely ecstatic when he drew his very first arrow. His incorporeal bow wavered; the blue reiryoku forming it illuminated his joyful face. Then Souken proceeded to teaching the boy how to actually fire the conjured arrow. At first, Uryuu's shots were dull and unexpected; it was quite dangerous that his grandfather told his young apprentice to shoot into the waterfalls instead of the open clearing. So Uryuu trained and trained, hoping that one day he could inherit the Quincy's fighting spirit and emblem he would cherish to his grave.

Every day would be the exact replay of yesterdays. Uryuu comes home, has his lunch, does his homework and then skips over to Souken's abode to continue where they left off. Souken thought it would be better if his precious grandson spent some time out with his peers in the playground kicking balls instead of firing spiritual arrows. Such was the young boy's sacrifices.

Uryuu forwent a possible normal childhood in favour of becoming a Quincy apprentice because he would like to make his grandfather proud. And behind that justification he declared happily to the old man, Uryuu knew, deep down it was a rebellion. A rebellion seeded by his father's loath towards the clan, the powers and his sole abomination – Uryuu himself.

----------

As consciousness anchored, he opened his eyes cautiously and saw the white ceiling wavering before him. He blinked and was more aware of the almost silent shifting made by someone beside him. Then he realized he was lying flat on his back, his glasses somewhere else instead of on his nose as always – that would explain the blurry vision. So gingerly, he tilted his head to the left, staring into black fabric which unfortunately, he guessed make up his father's long trousers which he normally wear to work. True enough, he could sense a pair of steely eyes piercing his forehead. Uryuu did not have to look up to know that his father was eyeing him coldly.

"It's about time you wake up."

Uryuu finally directed his eyes to his father's, his expression bland. Ryuuken fiddled with something in his hands before he continued, "You were talking in your sleep."

The gears in his brain began to work – so his father was implying that he had heard of things Uryuu kept hidden at the back of his head? Normal people would wake the sleeping person instead of egging him on, listening to the dreamy mumbles.

"Don't sit up yet, stay still."

Uryuu said nothing as his father hovered above him, fixing aluminium clips on the hem of clean bandages currently coiling around his torso. He blinked again, this time making sure he was not imagining that he was having his wound dressed up. He could hardly remember having any severe injuries on his front.

"Is this necessary?" he asked, speaking for the first time. Ryuuken spared a brief eye contact before returning to his task.

"It is, unless you want it infected. I however, don't plan on having anyone dying in my hands because of what they call as 'a doctor's carelessness'."

"This isn't a normal physical injury. It should heal all right by itself," Uryuu argued, his voice as hoarse as before.

Ryuuken cleared his throat before sitting back cross legged next to his son. "This is different. You are not battling in spirit form. This is like a normal physical injury."

"I suppose you mean to say it's the same as receiving a bullet in the heart and survived?" Uryuu said scathingly, sarcasm lacing his words.

Without missing a beat, Ryuuken uttered a curt, "Yes," and got to his feet.

Sure, Uryuu thought, keep me in the dark. Hide all the explanations. Ryuuken always assumed his family did not have to be bothered with every tiny bit of things, so he did not speak. What he did not understand was no matter how mundane the bit was, as long as it was a little piece of Ryuuken, they would want to know.

Ryuuken walked towards a makeshift table, increasing the distance between him and his immobile son. Uryuu huffed silently, raising his hand to his temple and wiped the layer of sheen that was beginning to form – then he ground his teeth. Moist, there was moist at the tail of his eye. Spontaneously, he turned to his father again whose back was facing him. Ryuuken told him he was sleep talking; he definitely missed the crying part. Ryuuken was about to turn around when Uryuu quickly mop his face dry with the back of his palm, not wanting the traces of shame to linger on his visage.

Two plastic bottles thudded gently on the floor just by his head. Clearly pleased with some water to quench his thirst, Uryuu tried heaving his upper body up with his elbow only to find out – his eyes widening in shock – that he could not. His father noted the futile attempt and gripped him clinically on the shoulder, "You won't be able to sit up so soon. Try again half a day later."

Uryuu deemed the last sentence unnecessary. Then he felt Ryuuken's arms snaking around his back, hoisting him up effortlessly. The grip on his shoulder was tighter than before; Uryuu's lips thinned with irritation, knowing that due to the numbness of his body, he had to rest his weight entirely on Ryuuken. He shifted his hip a little, perhaps this time he could sit independently – only to have a sharp pain shot up his spine.

"Muscle fatigue. Extreme accumulation of lactic acid would cause muscle cram."

"And you will be saying temporary paralysis and this – pain – will subside half a day later?"

This time, Ryuuken did not reply. He uncapped a bottle of mineral water, throw a straw into it and push it to his son. Uryuu was clearly undignified for being mistaken as a helpless old woman; he made to hold the bottle with his own hands only to be further disappointed that his grip was pretty much powerless. Ryuuken wordlessly held the bottle steady for Uryuu, waiting for his son to lose some air in his head when the younger man finally bowed a little for a sip.

"Rest," was the next order from Ryuuken.

"Wait –" Uryuu said quickly, reaching for his father's cuff as he was lowered down to his back. "Prop me up the wall, I don't –"

At that precise moment, they heard a crack and a rumble. Somewhere to their far left, a large piece of wall collapsed and broke into several smaller fragments upon impact on the ground. Ryuuken laid his son on the mat again, this time without objections from Uryuu.

"After this, we will go on with our schedule. You'll train until I'm satisfied with your Quincy prowess. In the meantime, you can either camp in here or return home."

"Home?" Uryuu found himself whispering the word. "Home" when uttered to his friends means differently when spoken to his father.

"Yes. Either there," Ryuuken somehow sounded like the word "home" weighed too much on him, "or here."

The older man did not dawdle; though it was a little agonizing to see his son actually contemplating whether spending his free time home or below the hospital trapped within walls of silver glass would be better. Ryuuken pushed his glasses up and proceeded coldly, "I'll have you conjure a better bow, one more corporal and better your aim. You'll learn how to shoot multiple arrows in quick succession, almost simultaneous and if there's still time, I'll teach you how to master several other weapons the Quincy equip themselves with."

Ryuuken's narrowed his gaze on his son when the latter's eyes tunneled around him. Uryuu's fist on the mat tightened when he caught himself ogling at his father – that would be the longest he had ever looked at his old man.

"I didn't anticipate a training session after this, that's all," Uryuu explained needlessly.

"Even if you have new powers, you're still walking towards death if I let you go with what miserable skills you have right now."

"I thought you hated us," Uryuu replied. He did not mind Ryuuken's condescending remark; no he did not. "Why would you teach me how to be a better Quincy?"

Silence dawned, stretched until Ryuuken turned on his heels and stepped lightly towards the door. "Because I won't have you dying in my hands – if you want to die, do so out of my vicinity" was what Uryuu heard along with the soft tapping of PVC heels on the floor. When Ryuuken's hand settled on the door knob, he turned around vaguely to his son, asking, "You haven't changed the keys to your house, have you?"

Uryuu's eyes slipped downwards, noticing the S-sized luggage bag his father had in his grip. Then he remembered the day his father had him cornered in the school compound – one day after he took off from home – and demanded a set of keys to his new house.

So he shook his head weakly, watching the silhouette disappeared behind the doors and sighed. Somehow it seemed the numbness had gotten to his brain as well.

----------

"Training starts immediately. You yourself are well informed that time is scant on our side," Ryuuken muttered, passing a pair of trousers to Uryuu.

"What's happening outside?" he asked, pulling the article up to his waist.

"The attack yesterday will not be the last. Before the next commences, you have to be prepared," his father replied, tossing a crisply ironed shirt to the younger man. Slipping one of his arms into the short sleeve, he asked further, "What are they after? What else do you know?"

"That," Ryuuken stopped deliberately, zipping the luggage and shoving it to the mat where his son once lay and said, "is not your business to know. Not yet," he added at Uryuu's reproachful look.

That was their last conversation which carried a remotely casual tone to it. The next two hours were concentrated on summoning a bow; something Uryuu had not totally lost contact with even after a long break of not being able to manipulate reiryoku at all. After that, he was clutching his right hand with his left, shaking as his fingers went stiff. Ryuuken halted the training immediately and dragged his son purposely to the mat.

"Hold your hand out," the doctor commanded, pulling out a spray from the first aid kit.

If his body could not keep up, by the end of the day he would not be able to make much progress. The thought of his friends standing at the frontline as he was left feeble at the back was excruciatingly frustrating it must have shown in his face – Ryuuken shook him slightly, his eyes calculating.

"You are not going to push yourself beyond your limits."

"We don't have time for healing," Uryuu growled severely, his fist balled up to stop the quivering.

"Yes, we don't have time for healing. You will train as you recuperate. You are not going to inflict anymore injuries to what you already have," Ryuuken said as heatedly, chucking the spray into the kit – his eyes fixed onto his son's. "You will stop the training when you feel something's wrong somewhere. Prickles, cram, the weakest burning sensation – anything, you have to give me the signal."

"Not for something so trivial –"

"Yes, you will," anger wrapping Ryuuken's voice. "If you don't, I'll end the session for good."

It left no room for protest. He threw himself back onto the mat, gripping his wrist with a new surge of energy. He heard the soft tapping of his father's soles on the ground, fainter and fainter with each step towards the door… Uryuu hated the fact that he had wasted another day achieving nothing. His bow took the shape it should have but somehow it could not be maintained beyond five minutes.

"I," Uryuu called out, effectively stopping his father in his stride, "I can –"

Can what? His fingertips were frozen; his shoulders aching. He knew he would burden his limbs unreasonably – he might have lost his powers before but not his common sense. Yet he was clearly aggravated by his condition, not wanting to give himself a handicap despite having received his father's spiritual arrow just nine millimeter to the right of his sinoatrial node. So he bit his lips, shutting down any desire to just curse in annoyance.

But Ryuuken did not comment. He did not hurl snide remarks on his son. He also did not offer words of comfort. Doing what he does best as a father, he said, "Sleep. I'll come for you in the morning." And then Uryuu was alone in the spacious basement.

What difference would that make, living below the hospital or at home?

----------

One, two…

He leaped, an arrow stabbing the platform where his foot was just a millisecond ago. Even through the thick dust and rubble floating in the air, Uryuu marked his father some fifty meters ahead. What ticked him was the old man had never even moved out of his spot since the first arrow he released. And Uryuu on the other hand had practically roamed a quarter of the basement already. Sweat trickled down his cheek, accumulating at his jaw line before he brushed it away impatiently, running again as his father prepared five arrows in his bow.

Ryuuken apparently suggested this sort of session. Now that Uryuu could form his bow and fire up to a thousand and two hundred arrows at one shot, all he needed was battle experience, something which Ryuuken seemed pretty eager to provide albeit the typical indifferent expression he don on his face whenever Uryuu was in sight.

The younger man knew running and dodging was not the plan. He could outrun the attacks but that was no longer the purpose of the training.

"What are you doing, Uryuu?" he heard Ryuuken's shout from afar.

His question was punctuated by another blast; the falling rubbles right above his head forced Uryuu to shoot them into smaller pieces of debris.

"You can shoot arrows, so I see. Then cancel mine with yours! Don't forget what you have to do for this session!"

Precision; that was what Ryuuken wanted his son to achieve by the end of the training – precision in the art of archery. Uryuu understood his father enough to give up fantasizing about warming ups – Ryuuken charged full power the moment his son said, "Ready." He witnessed the large gap of powers between himself and the true heir to the title the Last Quincy. Intimidating… within the first few minutes of half-hearted shootings his father had already discovered his blind spots, aiming for those locations instead of in between his eye.

So again, Uryuu found himself battle worn, bruised and pissed while Ryuuken stood smugly at the opposite end of the hall. When he saw his son stop moving, he lowered his bow, scrutinizing the other from hair to toe. Smirking, he sauntered towards Uryuu.

"I'm glad you dodged the arrows you can't shoot."

He was clearly referring to those targeting for the blind spots.

"Every arrow is shot with the intent to kill. It'll be a pity if you have to perish in my basement."

Then he stopped walking, looking upwards where his son was fuming but still silent – Uryuu was perched on a ledge two stories high. His eyes penetrated Uryuu's as if he was quietly asking, "Are you all right?"

Uryuu of course, dismissed the act as nothing but gloating, reminding him of his flaws.

He summoned Ginrei Kojaku, an answer to his father, or was it more of a retaliation? The edge of Ryuuken's lips curled upwards, further infuriating Uryuu. And when his father turned to assume his sniper nest, Uryuu stood up.

Black shred of ribbons swiveled before his eyes and he quickly laid his palms against the wall behind him, his breathing ragged at the close call of falling two stories high to his death. He quickly glanced at his father; he sighed, relieved that the old man had not noticed a thing.

He chewed over the option of asking for timeout, for him to catch his breath.

"Ready yourself. I'll be coming at you twice as hard."

Option canceled. Uryuu was going to fight.

To the eyes of the untrained, there were only two blurs of light, appearing only for a second to release a burst of blue flames before disappearing, only to reappear a hundred meter away to shoot more spiritual arrows. Uryuu had gotten better; he was paying more heed to his blind spots and rectifying his rigid hold on his bow. Ryuuken was playing along, Uryuu thought; and as a consequence, he was begining to feel his father's faltering reiatsu. This was like a replay of their previous "spar", if Uryuu could call it, only this time he was no longer a harmless prey forced to a corner by a barbaric predator.

But harmless or not, fatigue was not an element which could be simply discarded. Uryuu wanted to end the course for the day but not without a final showdown. It would be downright embarrassing to just cross his forearms together, signifying "time out" and they retire for dinner. He shuddered somewhat at that simulation, and Ryuuken stopped shooting.

Uryuu glared at his father and saw only a pair of appraising eyes.

"This will be our final exchange for the day then, if you're tired!" Uryuu spoke loudly, bringing his father back to his fighting pose.

He shot twelve, the luminous blue beams shone on Ryuuken's face before they dissipated as they were met with his father's personal twelve.

"What –?"

Not only twelve to cancel the offensive arrows, but twelve more as souvenirs for his son.

Uryuu leapt backwards, ducking as they formed craters behind his back. He balanced himself on his feet and to his irritation, he staggered somewhat. He heard the tapping of PVC heels on the basement ground again; Ryuuken was moving. Quickly, Uryuu raised his bow in front of his head and without fully concentrating on the amount of reiryoku to manipulate, he let go.

He hoped that would give out enough glaring rays to blind his father even for a brief moment as he used hirenkyaku to take cover behind a large wall.

The black ribbons returned and his vision caved in, leaving only a small circle of hazy reality. He closed his eyes, his head sinking into his palms before he knew it. Then he heard Ryuuken's footstep again.

He rose quickly, his vision returning to normal and he thanked his adrenaline. His father was getting closer and he quickly broke into a run.

Two more arrows whizzed past his ear; they might probably graze into his temple if he did not jump upwards. Now landed on another platform, he spotted his father below him and sent two towards the man. To his horror, the arrows were nothing more than feeble blue wisps.

Ryuuken only had to hold his bow up, absorbing his son's arrows without much ado.

"Is this the final exchange you have in mind, Uryuu? Or is this your idea of joke after mingling around with those shinigami you call friends?"

A prickle of pain crept up his chest. He clutched at his shirt, sapphire eyes alight with anger. Then all of a sudden, Ryuuken's head tilted upwards to where his son was crouching. A single arrow, solid, dangerous flew straight for his head.

"Now that's more like it," Ryuuken mumbled, stepping sideways to allow the streak of reiryoku explode into a boulder.

A soft thud was heard in the atmosphere and Ryuuken went up the platform where his son was. The latter's face was blank, pale… and there was a questionable amount of sweat plastered on his visage.

Uryuu's eye lids flickered up and he saw the snowy haired doctor. Subconsciously he called upon a flare of blue in his right palm, ready to form Ginrei Kojaku but it disappeared almost immediately as he was reduced to a coughing rag doll on the plane. Ryuuken lowered himself by the horizontal form, pulling the other Quincy into his lap.

And Uryuu's hand latched tightly onto his chest, a groan slipping out between his chipped lips.

"Uryuu?"

The azure pupils gave no sign of recognition as they swiveled, as if their owner's violent shivering was causing them a state of restlessness.

Ryuuken lifted his son's shirt and what he saw solidified his fear; the bandage around Uryuu's chest was once again soaked with blood.

"Fool," he scolded, wrapping his arms around his son. He kicked off towards the mat, glad that hirenkyaku at least, had a noble purpose to serve.

----------

"Haven't I told you? You cannot dismiss your injury as something trifling."

A used syringe, emptied from the anesthesia it contained only a few seconds ago was tossed into the kit. The sound of water splashing into a little pool inside a bucket resonated between them as Ryuuken twisted a white towel dry. Dull, navy eyes slipped close when the cloth was placed gingerly atop his forehead, soothing him. And then Ryuuken backed off to the table, returning with a bundle of fresh bandages and clips.

Uryuu waited.

"A shot in the heart is no joke," Ryuuken started, directing a rather fierce gaze to his son – accusing, "It's lethal enough to kill. You didn't die, but that shot was good enough to render you… into what condition you're in now." He knelt back beside Uryuu, unrolling the dirty dressing from his patient.

"That is why I told you to stop the training when you feel your body is strained too much. But did you abide by my instruction?"

The pentacle-shaped scar was glistening below the gentle moon ray, stained by scarlet blood. Uryuu hissed involuntary as cold air stroked the open flesh, his fist gripping the frayed edges of the mat.

"Which part of 'stop' can't you understand, Uryuu?" Ryuuken asked spitefully as he re-dressed the wound. "Are you blinded with power that you can't even determine the limits of you capability?"

"Is that an insult?" Uryuu breathed; his eyes boring into his father's.

"It's an advice."

The clips were fixed and the pain dulled below layers of fabric. Ryuuken pulled a comforter up to Uryuu's chin. His spectacles turned opaque as light reflected off it.

"Quincy are long-ranged fighters in the first place. It's better to partner up with someone specializing in mid or short-ranged combats," and he paused, his mind seemed off somewhere else. "You'll serve as back up."

"That's cowardice."

Ryuuken returned the glare and replied with equal amount of venom, "It's teamwork."

"Quincy never partner with another mid or short ranged fighter! Certainly you're not implying that you've worked hand in hand with a shinigami?" Uryuu countered. He would never agree to this sort of battle strategy. He would be in front, battling head on with the enemy, not supporting another fighting partner, if there was one.

The Ishida are the only breathing Quincy left after all.

"That is why the Quincy had also developed a number of weapons suitable for such styles."

Ryuuken removed the head towel, now warm with his son's heat before tossing it back into the water.

"Tomorrow's her anniversary," Ryuuken whispered solemnly, returning the damp cloth to his son's forehead.

Uryuu bit his lower lips. The pacifying coolness lulling him to a state of drowsiness… sleepiness…

All thoughts of Hueco Mundo, the Orb of Distortion, Espada and Arrancar, Ryuuken, Souken and Mother... all banished as darkness claimed him.