Disclaimer: Bleach does not belong to me by any means. Tite Kubo's brain belonged to Tite Kubo when I last checked, and though there's probably a wealth of wonderful stuff in there, I'm not about to be the first person to abduct it and find out, unfortunately. I'll leave that to other, more able fans. :)

"I'll have you know, I rather dislike the color blue."

That was the first thing she'd told about herself, the first of many personal quirks that she had passed on to the grinning young man sitting cross-legged in the tall, flowing grass, his white and blue academy robes a stark contrast against the vibrantly scarlet ferns, his golden hair pleasantly tousled by the ever-flowing winds. Not that she'd minded telling him something like that at the time, then again. No, in fact, she had been quite enjoying the conversation.

She could tell by the smile permeating his features that her counterpart was enjoying the talk as much as she, which only added to the fun, naturally. She agreed heartily that such an occasion was by far more interesting than the lecture her little Kisuke was currently dozing on - the man already knew the very anatomy of that particular subject and more, besides. And so, when he had causally wandered into her little worldlet, she had latched onto the opportunity without protest. Rest besides, it just felt so good to have an animated conversation with an intelligent person that actually responded for once. Her domain was a lonely place otherwise.

She could remember vividly the long years that had passed, from the very day she and her counterpart had first been brought into the world, himself as a wailing babe cradled in his exhausted mother's arms, while Benehime had raised herself upright from a bed of ferns with a long sigh, examining her new home for the first time. The days, the months, the years that followed…they were now one long, boring blur in her mind's eye, a haze of loneliness and despair and irritation that she'd rather not recall willingly. She had called and called, so many times, for so many years, fuming in frustration when he had refused to answer each and every time. He had been able to hear her clearly - she knew that for a fact. The fact that he had been ignoring her because of it had nearly thrown her into fits of exasperation more than once. But she had waited all the same, dutifully, bitterly, as a good little zanpakuto spirit should. And when he had finally, finally called her, called her name - well, there had been more than a little annoyance blended in her joy.

He hadn't even needed to ask what her name was.

Most in her position would have called her fortunate, but she really wasn't so sure about it to this day. All the same, she couldn't help but selfishly enjoy the company of her counterpart at times. She knew a genius when she saw one.

And she certainly knew a genius when she lived in one.

The manner of his unresponsiveness had long been explained and forgiven, naturally, Kisuke leisurely informing her that he had been holding back simply because the shock value would have been, incidentally, almost too much for anyone in his family to take, as well as the fact that he knew his skills with a blade in itself had needed to be a little more developed if he intended to go about defeating his enemies without Benehime's raw power, which would have caused more harm than help. He had also informed her that she wasn't alone in her past predicaments, surprisingly, as such unusual communications between zanpakuto and wielder were actually common among especially gifted individuals. Not that it had been particularly comforting or anything, but at least she knew now that she hadn't been alone in her suffering. Benehime personally couldn't wait to sympathize with any spirit with a similar past to hers if she ever met one.

Since then their relationship had been amiable and comfortable, Kisuke visiting when he could - or rather, at his leisure. And now the rippling plains shifted in color, autumn red fading into an amused shade of pine green, as her little Kisuke took in her aforementioned statement about the color blue.

"What, these robes don't look that great on me?" he had inquired in mock injury, plucking at one of his sleeves and gazing at her reproachfully. "I always thought the coloring suited me, actually…or is this just a stereotype of yours, hm?"

Chuckling, Benehime knew he had good reason to throw that question her way. If her name wasn't enough of a giveaway, her appearance in his eyes certainly was. Garbed in a baggy bright red kimono fit for a noble and sporting equally flaming hair, the picture was completed with her crimson parasol, which was royally adorned with tassels and a gold-leaf flower insignia at its center. Turning the bamboo handle between her fingers, she regarded him in amusement. No, blue wasn't really her color…but it was in more ways than one.

"Rest assured, I'm sure you'd look even more striking in red or something," she had retorted haughtily, ruining the effect with a small laugh. "I suppose that wouldn't be allowed, of course - from what I've gathered, red academy robes are worn by women, neh?"

"Indeed. It would be rather awkward."

There is a short silence, and then Benehime speaks up again, her voice as bright as ever, though something in her demeanor is now changed. "Blue doesn't really fit these plains either, you know. It's a very degrading color for grass, in my opinion. I stand out far too much for my liking. And it gets…cold, so to speak. Another thing I find distasteful." She regards him with a small frown now, and her little Kisuke does the same, smart enough to realize a meaning emerging in her words. "Blue…blue has a habit of representing pain here. Pain in the body, the mind, and most especially the heart. Top it off with silver and you've got grief. Edge it with black and you've got the anger and helplessness of a loss that could have been prevented." The frown still tugging at her ruby lips, Benehime lifts her golden gaze to the sky. "More often than not it'll rain sooner or later, if ever I do spot a streak of navy in my plains. As I know you realize, the majority of us spirits do not find merit in rain. It's just as bad to me. This parasol is meant to catch the light of your happiness, not the tears of your sorrow." Her eyes return to him, all cheerfulness gone. "…It's a very unpleasant experience."

"Indeed…"

The silence persists again, more pensive than the last. The grass around them takes on a brownish hue, sparks of gold lighting in the fern heads, and all the while the wind keeps blowing, sometimes swift and tugging, sometimes soft and caressing, swaying with the shift and flow of their overlord's thoughts.

At length Benehime sits back, fiddling absently with the largest tassel on her parasol, which is located at the hilt of the sunshade's handle. Her voice is somewhat lighter than before, but there is a hidden note in it that Kisuke is quick to catch, the slight tremor prevailing in all of her words.

"These fields are capable of taking on every color in the visible spectrum and more," she said. "Every one represents a mood or thought you might be feeling at that moment. In the years waiting for you to answer my calls, I had to content myself with learning the meaning of each and every shade and hue, to the point where I could discern every subtle hint and message. It was a way of learning more about you, a way of getting to know you better, until you were finally willing to learn more about me. But of them all, I dislike blue to this very day. I simply cannot abide it. Your personality simply cannot afford the consequences of such a plummet in emotion." She fixed him with a stern eye, even as her voice remained light and lilting. "The only time I feel afraid is when I catch sight of a single stem of turquoise in this place. Because when you feel that way, there's a chance that you could actually do something stupid and get yourself killed. There's a chance that you might give up on all of those delightful ambitions of yours. And it's all the more worse because you hardly ever force blue into the grass, you know. It's the few times that you did when I wished most for you to reply to my summons." She paused. "Now that you're here and listening, I'd like to inform you that I'm willing to do everything in my power to make you cast that blue away. I'm willing to lend you every piece of advice I can produce, every bit of company I could ever provide." And here she finally smiles again, very slightly. "Blue just doesn't sit well with you in my opinion, little Kisuke."

And her counterpart stares at her for a while, the expression on his naturally scheming features unreadable.

"…You don't think so? Well, I guess blue never really quite fit me like it does everyone else, true."

Benehime watches, her smile widening more with every second, as Kisuke sits back in the grass, finger to his thin in a guise of deep thought. "No, I don't think I like blue as much as I do green."

"Green?" She decides to play along with his little game, pretending to sound perplexed herself. "And why would that be?"

"Well, green's always looked like a nice shade to me, so to speak. In fact, I like green and white in equal proportions. Hm, yes, green and white…and stripes, too. I've always found something rather fascinating about stripes."

"Who would have thought of it?" Voice mocking, Benehime laughs. "The great Kisuke Urahara, prodigy of his generation, finds a fascination…in stripes?"

"Yes, I do. There's just something about them that can have a person staring at them for a while, in my opinion. Put the right way, stripes can make you look taller or wider, and a certain contrast in colors can bring out a rather brilliant display in a simple pattern. It's really a rather astounding property, if you come to think about it…stripes can even bring about a person's overall opinion of you, depending on whichever method you wear them…"

And so the conversation goes on, and Benehime plays along without regret. For she knows well enough that her little Kisuke has taken her confession very deep to heart, considering this revelation even as he shields his thoughts behind petty talk of green and white and stripes, and how they might look on a hat, and how that hat ought to be shaped, and whether or not such an occasion would be required where he might have to wear something of that sort.

In the end, she knows that she'd prefer to be with her little Kisuke more than anyone else if given the choice. His judgment is clean and uncut, his personality fun and something to be wary of in all the right ways, and his simple unpredictability is enough to make up for all those lonely years calling his name and not getting an answer. If he deems that a person ought to be killed, then by all means Benehime is content to get the job done well and right, the bastard undoubtedly deserving every ounce of pain henceforth inflicted.

She is a princess of her own little sort, besides. Like her counterpart, she harbors a well-fostered pride in her abilities and her partner, even years and years later. Still she savors the pride of standing by her little Kisuke's side as the displays of astonishment and surprise and respect flow from their enemies, the fools realizing that their diminutive Mr. Hat-and-Clogs is actually a force to be reckoned with. She knows she is the most fortunate being to grace the planes of existence when her little Kisuke stands before those stuck-up duddards and laughs and taunts and teases.

Benehime, the Crimson Princess, knows the meaning of pride when she can laugh and taunt and tease at his side. And in the end, she knows that it was worth it, really, all the lonely years and the frustration and the calling of his name. Of course, to his day, there are still times when he irritates her to no end, though that isn't surprising - it seems a trait he inflicts on everyone, whether he tries to or not, but she loves him all the same just because of it, remembering how dull life might have been if he had decided to never respond.

And they both remember vividly that one particular talk of blue, that day he decided to doze on that worthless lecture. The day they finally completed the bond waiting to form between them.

In Benehime's opinion, it had been about time.

But then, her little Kisuke always seemed to like dragging things out.

A/N: Weeeeell…I have absolutely no idea where this came from, but I hope it's turned out okay. I've always been somewhat fascinated by the nature of zanpakuto spirits, and wanted to try a hand at writing them, more accurately the ones that have yet to reveal themselves to the media. The whole nature of this fic will be generally speculative - most of my guesses on these spirits' appearances and worlds will probably be proven wrong at some point or another, so it's best not to take anything too seriously.

This being my first Bleach fanfic, and the fact that I've only been exposed to said fandom for about three months, makes for a rather precarious writing status. I really do hope everything was portrayed in-character - I'm somewhat worried about my characterization of Kisuke Urahara, and the ending of this chapter feels slightly confused in my opinion, but I'm tired and I'm determined so I'm just gonna submit this thing and see how it turns out. Pointers and suggestions are very welcome. By all means I hope I didn't butcher anything. -.-'

Other than that, thank you for reading if you're already this far! :D Hopefully I'll be able to update soon in the future…hopefully…as I've realized I'm a very crappy updater already…

-shutting up-