Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Birthdays ❯ One-Shot

Birthdays

by debbiechan

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bleach, but on this day November 6, 2005, Ishida Uryuu reaches the international standard age of consent and is hereafter my love slave! (I also need some sewing done, so I figure he’ll be veeerrry handy around the house).

Description: A complete short fic written as a series of drabbles for the Ishidafansanon Live Journal community. No warnings. Happy birthdays, Uryuu.

Birthday #1 (100 wds)

Ryuuken had hated obstetrics rounds ever since his internship--that’s when he’d first encountered the sounds of women bringing life into the world. The damn moaning sounded so much like the dead being eaten by Hollows.

The scratchy mewing of newborns was almost as bad, but Ryuuken noted with pride that his own son was remarkably silent, wide-eyed and alert.

Was Uryuu listening to the baby wailing in the next bassinet? Did Uryuu look … sympathetic?

Ryuuken never prayed, but he made a wish so intense it felt like prayer: I wish Uryuu will never be able to hear Hollows.

Birthday #2 (150 wds)

Souken rushed through his morning prayers so he could arrive at Ryuuken’s home before Uryuu woke up. Today was Uryuu’s third birthday. It was a Quincy custom to lay garments on a child’s bed the night before, so the new clothes would be the first present the child saw.

"I know why you’re here, Souken." Ryuuken said at the door. Even though Souken had not been called "Father" by his son in a long time, there seemed to be extra contempt in Ryuuken’s voice this morning.

Souken patted the folded white cape he held in his arms. "It was yours."

"You can see him," Ryuuken said. "You can eat cake with him and play games, but…" He pushed his glasses up his nose. "You can not bring that into my home."

"Ryuuken, he’s going to ask questions sooner or later."

"No, he’s not," Ryuuken’s voice softened. "He has no talent."

Birthday #3 (150 wds)

"My, my, Uryuu, you are too tall, taller than even your father was at this age. I don’t think I will have pants for you for your birthday next week."

Grandfather and grandson had inverted the Quincy tradition. Uryuu would follow his grandfather home after the birthday dinner, and the white clothes with the blue stitching would be the last present he received. Uryuu only wore the traditional Quincy garb when visiting his grandfather. Ryuuken seemed to be okay with that.

"Then we shall have to go shopping for some Quincy clothes," said five year old Uryuu.

Souken looked a little sad. "There are no Quincy stores anymore, Grandson. And clothes of this type are no longer sold anywhere."

Uryuu was unfazed. "Then we shall have to make some!"

Souken smiled and patted his grandson’s head. "I don’t see why not. I believe I have sewing needles around here somewhere."

Birthday #4 (200 wds)

Ishida believed that his father lightened up somewhat after Grandfather’s death. Even though Ishida had never seen Souken and Ryuuken exchange angry words, the battle had been tangible. Ishida had seen it--spirit threads behind the two men that stood up opposing one another, long white ribbons arched like the tails of competing tomcats.

Ryuuken’s face seemed less strained now. His dark hair had grayed in the past five years, but the man was utterly enraptured with work. He kept long hours at the hospital. When he was at home, he poured over journals in the study. He had no affection for anything that wasn’t bound between two covers.

When it was very early along the avenue where he and Souken used to sit drinking breakfast tea, Ishida imagined that he could still feel Grandfather’s hands on his head, whispering words of blessing: Someday you will understand.

Dawn had broken, and people had begun to step into the streets.

Ishida pulled his backpack over his shoulder and started in the direction of Karakura Middle School. Ishida had a secret: Father thinks the battle is over. He thinks the Quincy are dead. He doesn’t know that I am the last Quincy!

Birthday #5 (300 wds)

This year Uryuu would turn sixteen … if a Hollow didn’t kill him first.

This past spring, when Ryuuken had sensed the Menos Grande and the spirit thread of his own son wavering beneath it … his heart had frozen. Is it so inevitable? Another Quincy comes to a violent end? A natural consequence of a bad choice. The Quincy are nothing but a legacy of bad choices.

Then the young Shinigami’s reiatsu had soared, and Ryuuken had felt the Hollow retreat. He had felt relief--not so much over Uryuu’s still being alive but over the fact that his son had been defeated by a Shinigami. Maybe this is the end of it--this whole foolish Shinigami/Quincy competition that should have ended with Souken’s death.

But no, Uryuu had not learned his lesson. The boy had gone to Soul Society and, like a fool, burned out his powers.

He has no talent.

Another Menos Grande roared. The beast was tremendous-sized and its powers significantly deviant from what Ryuuken knew Uryuu had faced before.

He won’t be able to handle the regeneration. He won’t be able to outrun it.

Ryuuken reached into his pocket. He had been carrying the Quincy bracelet there for weeks now. He had planned to lay it on Uryuu’s bed one morning in November, for there was no delaying the inevitable anymore, but--as Ryuuken had expected--the need to reveal the medallion before the birthday had come.

The skies were full of Hollows. They groaned and thrashed like women giving birth. Ryuuken hated them, their noisiness, their inelegant means of combat, their disgusting appetites.

But he hated the legacy he slipped over his wrist more. He hated being a Quincy. He hated the story that had brought him here--he hated having to face his son.

A/N: Ah there you go. Five formal drabbles, one for each of the pins on the Quincy star. I think I’m getting better at these; my next challenge may be to write a non-canon timeline drabble, but I don’t know if I can wrench my imagination that far!