Larger view under spoiler. NSFW.
[Spoiler (click to open)]
hi, I'm on summer vacation and I wrote a ficlet!
The march, march, march of Stern Ritter boots in this week's chapter has me salivating for Ishida, Ishida, Ishida.
It is with some regret that I announce his sexual molestation in yet another story of mine. :D More stories to come later this summer I hope!
Thank you to nehalenia for the beta-reading and encouragement. Thank you to Penguin for making me love Haschwalth when he was known to us only as Andre.
Leichtigkeit des Seins
In memory of Nehalenia’s pulled tooth.
You know it when you see it
You know it when it's there
Like Michael Jackson Thriller
Like Farrah Fawcett hair….
Haschwalth/Uryuu, takes place before Bleach chapter 537 and Uryuu’s appearance before Yhwach. Warnings for quasi-incest, dub-con. Er, D/s. Rated R or M because… well, you’ll see. Possibly NC-17 but not the usual hardcore.
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At first sight of the recruit in full uniform, Haschwalth wondered if he himself would soon be replaced at the side of the Quincy king.
Jealousy is for humans. The lightness of being is surrender. No fear, no expectation, nothing to lose.
“What are you staring at?” Ishida Uryuu’s eyebrows arched over his spectacles. The frames were silver in color but not ringing as genuine metal to Haschwald’s attentive senses. Even the lenses were poorly constructed in that way to be expected of mortals, but the recruit had refused to relinquish his eye-wear when accepting his new clothes.
“You’re a strange one,” Haschwald said.
Ishida Uryuu’s haughtiness did not seem rehearsed or unnatural. “You’ve seen Quincy for hundreds of years. I’m nothing to look at, surely.”
This Quincy was indeed someone to consider with awe--a gemischt worthy of donning the mantle of the Stern Ritter.
Pretty bastard, your eyes are bluer than mine.
A nose and chin that evoked the refinement of ancient regal clans. A complexion that did not lose color next to the severe whiteness of Stern Ritter hood but glowed with all the earnestness and vigor of youth. Intelligent eyes--disrespectful but gleaming with intelligence.
“The uniform fits,” said Haschwalth in a mild, appraising tone. “Your attitude, however, does not become a Quincy warrior.”
Haschwalth did not break his gaze with Ishida Uryuu. The human eyes were dark blue, but their intent was transparent.
“Are we supposed to train wearing these ridiculous heavy capes?”
Do you honestly expect me to be the slightest bit intimidated by you?
“Only the noble-born look upon other Quincy with such disdain,” Haschwalth said, “but you’re gemischt so you must’ve learned to mimic this attitude somehow--”
“The king called me a prince,” Ishida Uryuu said.
“A title he gave you like I gave you this cloak.” Haschwalth’s hand reached towards Ishida Uryuu’s face (You don’t flinch; you’re very brave), and two fingers clasped the peak of the Stern Ritter hood. “Anyone can put on a title.” A sharp gesture pushed the hood so it fell like a large sack across the recruit’s back. “Don’t hide your face when among your own kind. That’s not protocol; that’s the attitude of the noble-born.” Two gloved hands smoothed the giant hood against the shoulders of the recruit’s uniform. “There, there. You have much to learn before His Majesty will allow you in his presence again.”
Apparently, Ishida Uryuu did not take well to his clothes being touched. He stepped back and loosened his cloak at the neck. “Two questions,” he said in a voice less arrogant than before. “What else are you going to show me besides my wardrobe, and when will I speak with the king again?”
“Were you not briefed before being brought here?” Haschwalth folded his arms. “I’m going to train you to fight to your Quincy potential. The Ice Palace is where you will receive a complete re-education. Let’s begin with something simple. Mantles are for missions outside this realm, and your jacket is unnecessary in your own quarters. Please remove both.”
The cloak was thrown on a chair in a flash. Ishida Uryuu began unbuttoning his jacket. “So many military flourishes are ridiculous,” he muttered. “Even in this reishi-charged atmosphere, these buttons weigh so much they’ll disfigure the fabric.” Long fingers worked the ornate buttons--their sacred insignia still unknown to the Earth-born recruit--out of their finely stitched holes. “Is there some gematria with the fifteen buttons? Because no jacket needs so many.”
For the past seventeen years, Haschwalth had reviewed all intelligence on this particular Quincy with perfunctory thoroughness but only passing interest. Still photos of a slender schoolboy carrying a larger book sack each new year, stolen notes about a Final Form in Soul Society that had vacuumed up buildings and forced a mid-tier captain into retreat--nothing to impress the right-hand man of the king. The latest reconnaissance had shown moving footage of a Licht Regen in Hueco Mundo. The first strong burst of arrows from a spider bow, then white legs retreating in an awkward hirenkyaku. A glimpse of talent but also of desperation, naïve form, nothing special, nothing—
Ishida Uryuu stood in the center of the white room in his white shirt and trousers. Maybe the shirt was too small. The upper body muscles built from archery training in the human world would not serve him in combat waged by angelic beings, but square shoulders and a defined chest made for aesthetic appeal. The young man looked noble, but he also had that strange wary presence of a being too long bound to the Earth. Sinews and nerves and anticipation--no, this attitude is like an animal’s and will have to be snuffed out, attractive though it is. The elevated exercise of mind over reishi had not been well-honed in this Quincy. Ishida Uryuu needed to learn the lightness of being.
Yes, induction should be swift and intimate. You are a strange one, and I have no time to waste.
“Arrogance is one of the many disguises of fear,” Haschwald said. “I require that you strip to your very nakedness.”
“What I mean,” Haschwald went on, amused that the recruit had so quickly apprehended his true meaning. “Is that you should take off your clothes.”
Whatever the uneasiness emerging on Ishida Uryuu’s face, it was kept in check by his dazzling impertinence. Obviously, he was not accustomed to taking orders.
“I mean right now,” Haschwald said. “Take all your clothes off now.”
“Don’t be a child, and don’t bother going back to your room. Disrobe here, now, in front of me.”
“I--” Ishida Uryuu changed his mind about protesting. He turned around to pull his shirt off over his head.
As the white shoes were slipped off, Haschwalth lectured about the impropriety of questioning a Quincy mentor. As the white trousers were pulled down, he said that an inductee’s attitude preceding re-education mattered little, that the outcome was the same. “Any defiance now will have no bearing on your eventual place in the Quincy hierarchy. Any resistance now …,” Here Haschwalth exhaled a small deliberate sigh. “Will only make my job more tedious. Or more interesting, depending on what sort of resistance you display.”
It had puzzled Haschwalth that Ishida Uryuu had turned away to undress, but when the young man faced him again, there were bright pink splotches of embarrassment on the nude chest and upper arms. The recruit’s face was a veritable poppy.
You’re a flower.
Haschwalth had not seen human modesty before.
Flowers grow in the human realm. Blooming by the thousands like fresh wounds on a battlefield and dying the same day--or the next.
“Well ….” Ishida Uryuu had seemed to guess that words might safeguard him from humiliation, but as soon as the first one was uttered, he understood the weakness of using words as armor. Nonetheless, he continued to act like everything was as before. “You’re not going to tell me why I-- are you going to take off your clothes to train as well?
Centuries of practice enabled Haschwalth to restrain a smile. Still, he had to wet his lower lip in reaction to the recruit’s pretensions.
“A Quincy prince would not need clothes to project his eminence. Are you really a Quincy prince?”
“That’s what your king called me.”
“He’s your king too. But you won’t understand this unless you surrender this human arrogance of yours for true Quincy pride.”
The blush was evaporating. The young Quincy’s eyes were narrowing with curiosity about whatever game was going on.
Wait--the fool is still wearing his glasses.
“You don’t need eye-glasses in the Ice Palace. Give those to me.”
Ishida Uryuu handed them over. Haschwalth held the pitiful pair in his palm and stepped closer.
“I should destroy this human artifact under my shoe,” Haschwalth said, “but you have a sentimental attachment to these fake eyes, don’t you?”
The recruit was silent. Haschwalth slipped the silver-painted, flimsy frames into his own breast pocket.
“What if I told you,” Haschwalth began, “that you’re a sad excuse for a Quincy and that the king wants to expose your stupidity? What would you say if I informed you right now that you’re going to die here, before you complete one round of training, and the news is going to be delivered to the human realm with the king’s compliments to your father?”
“I would say you’re lying.”
“How would you know?”
The recruit’s face had become thoughtful. For a moment his mouth was a strict line, and when he spoke it was in a confident voice that belied the fact that he was standing there naked and vulnerable. He answered the question like a gifted schoolboy: “Because your face looks like my father’s when he lies.”
Haschwalth felt a slow smile form on his own lips. He bent his face to Ishida Uryuu’s. “You’re going to regret saying that,” he whispered. Then he kissed him.
It was a simple, expert kiss. One intended to brush the surface, test the waters. Haschwalth’s lower lip landed on the young Quincy’s lower one, pushed it up slightly, inhaled a taste of moistness, paused for a reaction, and feeling none, lifted away.
Ishida Uryuu’s eyes were wide with surprise.
“Are you so innocent that you did not foresee--” Haschwalth took advantage of the moment to place both hands on the Quincy’s shoulders. “--how thorough your re-education would be?”
Lips parted and no sound came out. The recruit could only stare.
“Do you feel my strength?” Haschwalth gently pressed his gloved thumbs against the concave spaces of bare shoulders. “I could hold you here like this for hours with no effort, but I won’t.” He loosened his reiatsu but kept his fingers resting where they were. “You may run home now. I give you permission.”
“The king wouldn’t--” Ishida Uryuu managed to speak. “The king would not allow--”
“You’re such a child. His majesty has appointed me to guide you. You still have no concept of what holiness is.”
“But--training to fight--”
“Before training to fight, a Quincy must learn to be. You want to be stronger? You want your father’s approval? You want to help your brother Kurosaki Ichigo?” Look how your eyes keep getting bigger. Like two flowers. “To accomplish these things, you must first submit to me. Say yes. Say you will submit to me.”
Ishida Uryuu said nothing.
“Don’t worry--I won’t invade your body. That’s not my place.” Haschwalth measured his next words. “Yhwach …” His voice lowered pitch, became softer in deference of uttering the king’s name. “Yhwach is your sovereign, and only Yhwach can claim your physical or spiritual body. My task is to prepare you in the event you’re called--that’s all.”
The horror did not pass over Ishida Uryuu’s face all at once; understanding blanched his complexion the way wetness will slowly saturate a whole towel if the corner is dipped into the bath. The light in the room appeared to dim. Haschwalth’s own reiatsu lowered further; he had found the recruit’s previous anticipation titillating but stark fear reminded him of everything that was sad and ugly about the human world.
“No,” said Ishida Uryuu. The syllable was a reflex. So was the slight shake of the head. “No, no.”
If he were a sadistic man, this sort of triumph over a naked soldier would please Haschwalth, but because he did not appreciate weakness, he removed his hands.
I am not disappointed. I am not relieved. Jealousy is a human burden, and I will never submit to it. The path of the Quincy is the path of the Angels. His Majesty will make his will known to me in the actions of this poor recruit.
“I said you’re free to go.” Haschwalth patted the eye-glasses in his breast pocket. “You may take your human things and go back to the human world. Or--” He locked eyes with the young man whose confidence seemed forever destroyed. “Would you answer me one thing before you admit your failure? Did you not join our army with intent to become a stronger Quincy?”
The recruit’s chest was heaving with panic. Because terror had taken its sweet time to manifest fully, Haschwalth had not noticed it until now. He expected that the assignment was over, but he would ask one more time. Fear was a weakness but terror might be an opportunity.
“I’m asking you,” Haschwalth went on. “Did you or did you not willingly seek us out?”
“I see. In that case, you should stand ready to abandon your old self for a greater purpose.”
The lightness of being is surrender. No fear, no expectation, nothing to lose. The sky waits to be swept with your wings. Innocence is a human burden, but Quincy flight is born from the purest lightness of being.
Haschwalth approached again, and this time his hands cupped Ishida Uryuu’s face. He whispered the name of the Quincy king, and this time without rebuke, said that there was no reason to fear.
This kiss was harder one. True to his word, Haschwalth only pressed with his lips, and his tongue did not invade the recruit’s mouth. He moved to suck at the subject’s neck, aware that his own soft hair was pouring over Ishida Uryuu’s sensitive and virgin skin. He kissed an earlobe, a cheek, the mouth again and waited for the surge of consent that would surely come.
It didn’t, but neither did the recruit pull away or make any gesture of repudiation.
Then the moments narrowed into a point of no return. You are a stranger to touch. Haschwalth slipped one hand behind the recruit’s head and stroked the short hairs at the neck’s nape. His other hand dabbed at beads of perspiration on a pale forehead. Haschwalth was certain there would be no running away; he felt the fear lessen in the young Quincy’s reiatsu, and as it did, the light in the room became less dense, refracting a thought here, sending out a feeling there. Here is lust. There is curiosity. Wave after wave of consciousness detached itself from the subject’s body. Gloved hands petted nakedness, and the act of comforting the recruit became as easy as wringing out a wet towel. You are a stranger to yourself, Quincy. One gloved finger traced a path from sternum to navel to crotch where the glove opened like a star and all fingers pressed against a young man’s arousal.
Do you hear yourself? Were you ever aware of how malleable humans are? Of how you especially were lonely for your own kind?
As Haschwalth’s gloved hand began to stroke, the two Quincy levitated from the floor. Ishida Uryuu, held in an embrace, emanated no power but was bound to his brother by longing alone.
“Say yes,” whispered Haschwalth.
“You are a Quincy, yes?”
“Will you do anything for your king?
Because the Quincy was so young, pleasure seized him before he could answer. He shook as if trying to break free from a web of bonds and then dropped his head against Haschwalth’s shoulder.
Haschwalth felt a crunch in his breast pocket.
He knew, even as he reached to touch the forehead bowed against him, that the feeble spectacles were broken but that Ishida Uryuu was not.
“Do you feel ashamed?” Haschwalth asked as he glided back to the floor, the full weight of his pupil against him.
Their feet touched the ground. Ishida Uryuu managed to stand up, but he was not supporting himself. His head rested where it lay, and breathing hard, he managed to whisper “yes, I’m ashamed.”
When we are finished, you won’t be.
Every question Haschwalth had asked so far was one that he himself had answered with “yes.” Yes, I am a Quincy. Yes, I would do anything for my king. Yes, I am ashamed. I am ashamed to be jealous of my own pupil.
He wondered what would become of himself if the king were to replace him with Ishida Uryuu, but this question led him only to blankness, a vague promise of death, and the infinite reassurance spoken to him a thousand years ago by a benevolent father:
The lightness of being is surrender. No fear, no expectation, nothing to lose.
Oh and here is my own pencil coloring of the Kubo panel that made the Ishida fandom go nuts: http://debbiechan.deviantart.com/art/Prince-of-Light-373928876
And to make my own art look shitty, you must now look at THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT YET--OH THIS FANART OF THE PRINCE OF LIGHT IS AMAAAAAZING: http://mochifin.deviantart.com/art/prince-of-light-377905636