Characters: Urahara, Soi Fong
Summary: It was an… interesting conversation.
Pairings: implied KisuYoru, implied onesided YoruSoi
Warnings/Spoilers: spoilers for Fake Karakura Town and Deicide arcs
Timeline: during the Time Skip
Author's Note: While I was initially angry that the manga didn't cover this, I stopped being angry when I realized that that gave me a chance to cover it myself. Plus, it gives me my first stab at portraying Urahara's more ruthless side.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Urahara smiled pleasantly at Soi Fong as she approached, giving him an utterly familiar sullen glare out of narrowed eyes verging on gray today instead of blue. At least, as far as Urahara could tell, trapped behind Hacchi's barrier. "Good morning, Soi Fong-san. I see you have your arm back."
She did indeed, good as new and plainly fully functional, as Soi Fong stretched out pale fingers. "Yes." Her voice was clipped. "That Inoue girl does good work."
Plainly stewing with something Soi Fong fell silent for a moment, and Urahara was almost ready to ask her if there was a reason she had come when she looked up again.
An ugly smirk stretched across Soi Fong's thin, prudish mouth. "You have no idea how much this satisfies me," she remarked in the tone of voice that Urahara was sure was meant to taunt him, eyes dancing.
Given how much Urahara knew Soi Fong hated him, he couldn't say he found this remark to be entirely surprising. He closed his eyes for a moment. "Oh, I think I can imagine. I'm surprised you didn't break out the chains and torture devices, though; I would have thought you would want to play this up for all it's worth, and it's not like anyone could hear me down here." He had been imprisoned—Oh, irony of ironies—in the basement of his store.
"I can think of other ways to torture you than just drawing blood," came the rather clichéd—in Urahara's opinion—retort. Really, Soi Fong did have a pitiable lack of creativity when it came to these things.
He smiled and nodded, and both fell silent as Soi Fong came to a loss of words again and sat down on a nearby crate, staring at the ground, brooding, Urahara could surmise.
The hostility radiated off of her like the rays from the planet's sun. Personally, Urahara was surprised she wasn't generating her own light considering the intensity of the emotions swirling around her.
"You know, Soi Fong-san, there's something I've never been able to understand." Urahara's casual tone as he sat down—no use in standing for a month; he might as well get comfortable—made the younger Shinigami stiffen and tense. "What is it about me that makes you hate me so much?"
Immediately, her pale cheeks flooded with angry color and Urahara could tell he had hit the wrong buttons with his—rhetorical—question. He already knew why Soi Fong hated him, but if she thought she was the only one who could get some enjoyment out of this situations, she was dead wrong.
Soi Fong's lip curled up in a snarl and she didn't answer, choosing not to dignify that with an intelligible response.
Seeing her composure start to crack and fall, Urahara went in for the kill without mercy even if he framed his words in a smile—a predatory one. "Could it perhaps be because of my friendship with Yoruichi-san?"
The look of sudden rage and almost inhuman jealousy that stole over Soi Fong's face was all the confirmation Urahara needed. He was getting to her. He could already see the way her skin was crawling from his digging under it.
"You know, actually, I think that that was what I could never understand, not why you hated me, Soi Fong-san. All things considered, it's rather obvious why you hate me. Soi Fong-san, I know you to be quite adept at turning the feelings of lovers against each other for sport." The expression on Soi Fong's face was absolutely murderous now. "You can manipulate others, yet you are incapable of restraining your own urges." Or resisting my manipulations, Urahara added, only silently. That would have been too far.
Though he had no doubt that he could have fought her off if it had come down to that, Urahara was suddenly grateful for the barrier that kept them apart.
Soi Fong stood in a swirl of coarse black and fine white linen, face dark and stormy. "You never knew when to let off, did you?" Voice was taut, teeth grinding against each other.
A soft laugh, purposely made to sound rueful, fluttered from his lips. "Consider it a fault, Soi Fong-san, and leave it at that." And in that moment his face became calculating and predatory again. "But I can see now—in fact, I think I could always see it. You were always jealous, weren't you?"
This was the breaking point for her. Soi Fong whirled around and started to make the motions of leaving.
"Not leaving so soon, are you Soi Fong-san?" Urahara called after her mockingly.
Somehow, goading always worked on this woman—it really was amazing considering she was supposed to be cool-headed under all circumstances.
One blue-gray eye leveled on him. "I'll be back," Soi Fong promised ominously, before melting into the shadows like an overgrown bat.
Urahara smiled incisively. "I look forward to it."
That she hated him he couldn't help. That she hated him was something beyond his control. But that wouldn't stop Urahara from having his fun.
If Soi Fong thought she would have her fun from finding Urahara in this situation, all but bound and gagged, then he would delight in proving her wrong.