"Go ahead, Father."
Ishida Uryū drew in a slow, steady breath. He stood straight, his back rigid despite his small frame, as if bracing himself for a verdict rather than a condition.
Ryūken did not answer immediately. He studied his son in silence, his sharp gaze lingering far longer than necessary. In that moment, Uryū felt as though he were being examined under a scalpel—every intention, every weakness laid bare.
Finally, Ryūken spoke.
"After you learn Quincy abilities," he said coldly, "I want you to leave the wandering souls in this city alone."
The words fell without hesitation.
"Helping the dead is not our responsibility. That duty belongs to the Shinigami. You've read it yourself in that book—the ones who guide souls onward are the Shinigami, not us."
Uryū did not interrupt. He listened carefully, his expression calm, but his attention absolute.
Ryūken continued, his voice growing sharper.
"Saving the dead is meaningless to us as living beings. Even if a Quincy could do it—which we cannot—there is bad blood between Shinigami and Quincies. Do not interfere. Do not involve yourself. Leave wandering souls alone, and let the Shinigami deal with them."
The room felt colder with every word.
From the side, Ishida Sōgen let out a quiet sigh.
"Ryūken…" he murmured.
But even Sōgen could not refute this point.
Quincies could prevent Hollows from devouring wandering souls—but they could not send those souls to Soul Society. They could only delay fate, not resolve it. The proposal of the half-blood Quincies—to intercept Hollows and wait for Shinigami purification—was little more than a stopgap measure.
Destroying a Hollow outright erased the soul entirely, damaging the balance of the Three Realms.
And yet… what else was a discarded race expected to do?
"Bad blood?" Uryū asked quietly.
Ryūken's eyes flicked toward him.
"That's not something you need to concern yourself with," Ryūken replied flatly. "All you need to know is this: Shinigami are not to be trusted."
His tone left no room for argument.
"Do not deal with them. Do not protect souls in their place. Can you promise me that?"
Uryū answered without hesitation.
"I promise, Father."
His voice was firm. Certain.
Ryūken paused, as though expecting resistance—but none came.
And truthfully, Uryū had no reason to object.
Ryūken was right.
Guiding souls was the Shinigami's responsibility, not his. The Uryū of this life no longer clung to childish dreams of saving everyone he saw. He understood limits now. He understood consequences.
More importantly… he understood history.
He knew that the half-blood Quincy faction had once tried to cooperate with the Shinigami, offering protection for human souls in exchange for balance. And he knew how that had ended.
Soul Society had rejected them.
And when his grandfather became the last Quincy still attempting dialogue—persistently contacting the Shinigami—Mayuri Kurotsuchi had deceived him, abducted him, and dragged him to Soul Society for experimentation.
Dissection.
That single word was enough.
Uryū understood Ryūken's hostility perfectly.
Shinigami affairs were none of his business.
Right now, his goals were clear and limited.
Protect himself.
Protect his mother.
And survive the coming selection.
The ritual that loomed four years in the future weighed heavily on his thoughts. Against that inevitable calamity, sentimentality would only become a weakness.
He needed power.
Real power.
And for that, every Quincy technique mattered.
Still, Uryū did not know how far Ryūken was willing to go. Would his father teach him only the bare minimum? Just enough to escape danger, nothing more?
His gaze flicked toward his grandfather.
Sōgen met his eyes and gave him a small, encouraging smile.
Uryū understood immediately.
"Ryūken," Sōgen said, stepping forward, "then allow me to take Uryū—"
"No."
Ryūken cut him off instantly.
"I will teach Uryū myself."
The words were sharp, decisive.
"I'll give him the strength he needs to protect himself. No more."
Sōgen froze.
In that single sentence, Ryūken's intentions were laid bare.
He would teach Uryū.
But only enough.
Only what was necessary for survival.
Nothing beyond that.
Sōgen's expression darkened slightly. He remembered the promise he had once made—to let the family live as ordinary humans, free from Quincy burdens. He had agreed to it. He had supported it.
But now…
"Ryūken," Sōgen said slowly, "your work at the hospital keeps you busy. If you take on the training yourself, won't that—"
"It won't," Ryūken interrupted firmly.
"I'll spare a little time each day. It won't interfere with my duties."
He did not voice his deeper reasoning, but it was clear enough.
If Uryū truly had talent, he would grasp the basics quickly.
There would be no reason to teach him more.
And that very thought made Ishida Sōgen uneasy.
Uryū's awakening had come too early.
Far too early.
Among Quincies, the earlier one awakened, the greater their innate gift. Sōgen had seen many awakenings in his life—pure-bloods, half-bloods, prodigies and mediocrities alike.
Uryū was different.
Perhaps… just perhaps… this child could reach a height even Ryūken had never touched.
Without relying on that forbidden method.
Lost in thought, Sōgen looked at his grandson with depth-filled eyes—and gave a subtle wink.
Uryū caught it immediately.
His grandfather had always doted on him.
Whenever Ryūken forbade something, Sōgen found a way around it. The underground library was the clearest example—Ryūken had never wanted Uryū there, yet it was Sōgen who had told him where the key was hidden, encouraging him to read freely.
Books, knowledge, history—Sōgen had given him all of it.
Ryūken had tolerated that indulgence.
This time, however, was different.
He could not allow his father to guide Uryū down the full Quincy path. He knew too well how brutal that inheritance was. How merciless the training had been. How every ability had been carved into him through exhaustion and pain.
In Ryūken's eyes, Uryū did not need that burden.
Even if the boy—a half-blood Quincy—displayed talent surpassing any pure-blood, that only made Ryūken more determined.
The Quincy were a discarded race.
There was no glory in their legacy.
No future worth chasing.
Live as an ordinary person, Ryūken thought silently. Free from Quincy rules, free from Quincy destiny. That will be Uryū's greatest happiness.
He wanted his son to inherit medicine instead.
To heal rather than destroy.
To live comfortably, safely, untouched by ancient grudges and doomed prophecies.
Kanae Ishida watched the silent exchange between father and son, then smiled softly.
To her, the outcome mattered less than the intention behind it.
Ryūken might have rejected the Quincy legacy, but he placed his family above everything else. That much was undeniable.
She knelt in front of Uryū and gently stroked his hair.
"That's wonderful, Uryū," she said warmly. "Then from now on, protecting Mommy will be your job."
Her tone was playful, lighthearted.
But Uryū, looking into her pale face, saw exhaustion beneath the smile. Fragility hidden behind gentleness.
He nodded solemnly.
"Leave Mom's safety to me."
There was no trace of childish bravado in his voice.
Only resolve.
Uryū did not yet know the true reason his mother could no longer use Quincy powers. He only assumed that her weakened body made it difficult. He did not question it further.
But in his heart, a vow formed—silent and absolute.
I will erase the future where you die, Mother.
No matter the cost.
No matter the method.
As the adults around him spoke of limits and safety, Ishida Uryū's resolve quietly hardened.
The future had already been written once.
This time—
He would resist it.
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