Summary: Rookie cop Ichigo learns that some things are most definitely not what they seem, especially when he gets partnered up with Rukia. Meanwhile, Urahara offers Renji a "get out of jail" card when he asks him to infiltrate the mob known as the Gotei 13. At the same time, the Ishida heir goes missing, and it's up to Special Operatives Chad, Orihime and Tatsuki to find him and bring him back.
Written for NaNoWriMo redux, December 2005/January 2006, which took place on lj. In total, it's about 86, 000 words, approximately. I've edited it slightly for typos, but not really much else. The writing isn't my best, but it's my first try at something that's not either humour/parody or cotton candy-esque romance. There are about thirty chapters, give or take, and I'll be posting as I edit, which probably won't be very quick.
Urahara poured his third mug of coffee, swivelled his neck in a (futile) attempt to get rid of the lingering ache from sleeping in an odd position and sat at his desk, sipping quietly. Propping his feet up on his desk, he leaned backwards and closed his eyes, tilting his hat so that it settled over his eyes and settled for a quiet morning of caffeine and naps.
He was halfway through his coffee and just beginning to fall into a comfortable doze when the door to his office flew open. It hit the opposite wall with a resounding crash, made him jump and spill a bit of his precious coffee onto his rumpled uniform and he looked up to see a very irate rookie cop standing in front of him, his uniform pristine and scowl semi-permanent. "Good morning Ichigo, care for a cuppa?"
"Why the hell did you reassign Chad?" demanded Ichigo. "And you didn't even tell us."
Urahara put his mug down, swung his feet to the ground and rolled his chair so that he was closer to his desk. He grinned at his favourite rookie and said, "Sit down. Croissant? Tessai just picked them up, they're pretty good."
"Chief," snarled Ichigo.
"Now, now, no formalities. I've known you since you were this--" Urahara made a vague gesture with his hand, "--tall. Donut? Ah well, here you go, black with three sugars. You take your coffee like your father, you know. Sit down, Ichigo."
Ichigo glared, but sat down anyway, his eyes doing their damned best to burn a hole into his superior. Urahara grinned, pushed the box of pastries towards Ichigo and propped his feet back up on the desk, leaning back again. The chair squeaked and he frowned. "My, I certainly need to look into our budget for office appliances. We can't have our officers complaining about back problems now, can we?"
"Chief--"
"Call me Uncle Kisuke," Urahara said, waving a hand. "Or if that bugs you since I'm your superior, at least use my name in conjunction with the title. I find that it promotes greater efficiency. Less formality and all tha--URK"
Ichigo had grabbed Urahara's collar and yanked him across the desk, pulling him to his feet. "Where's Chad?"
"Uh, reassignedtoSpecialOpsbutyoudidn'thearitfrommeit'sclassified," choked out Urahara. He regained his colour almost immediately when Ichigo released him. He pulled at his uniform, drank the rest of his coffee and remarked, "You know, your father wouldn't have had to resort to violence in order to get some answers."
"No," answered Ichigo, somewhat sourly. "He would have probably just come into your office when you weren't here and snuck through your files."
"Not that easy," replied Urahara, somewhat absently, detaching a set of keys from his belt and jiggling them into a drawer in his desk. "Not even he can pick fifteen locks in less than a half hour." It took him a few minutes, and he pulled his drawer, rifled through the folders and took one out. "Ah yes, you have a new parter. A rookie just like you, I believe, but you should have no problem with her. In fact--ahh, lovely to see you, Officer Kuchiki."
Ichigo craned his neck to look behind him. A small woman stood in the doorway, her uniform perfectly pressed, collars starched and even her hat was at the precise regulation angle. She was very short, her hair very dark and a thick lock of hair fell across her face. Her look was unflinching as she saluted the Chief and said, "Officer Kuchiki reporting to duty, Sir."
"Yes, yes, good timing. Your new partner is sitting in front of you. Officer Ichigo Kurosaki, you will take Officer Rukia Kuchiki and show her the ropes." Urahara's eyes gleamed. "Of course, if you're going to be using them in different ways that aren't quite professional, I won't complain just as long as--"
Ichigo threw the remainder of his coffee on his adopted uncle. Rukia's expression did not change. "Permission to speak, Chief Urahara," she said.
"Permission granted," Urahara sputtered in between wiping himself off with spare napkins.
"I do not believe in engaging in..." her lips curled into a frown, "licentious actions with my co-workers. Nor do I appreciate anyone insinuating that I would."
Urahara gave her a sheepish grin and waved at the seat beside Ichigo. Rukia hesitated, then sat down. Urahara fixed Ichigo and himself another coffee before pressing a button on the coffemaker. Rukia's nose twitched. Noticing it, Urahara pushed the box of pastries her way, and she was halfway through her first croissant when he placed a mug of coffee (two creams, two sugars) in front of her. She sipped it with a nod of thanks. Ichigo scowled.
"Sir," he said rigidly, "I do not see why I had to be reassigned with a rookie when I'm one myself."
"You assigned me under a rookie?" Rukia said as soon as Ichigo finished his sentence.
"Ichigo, you came from the Academy with exemplary marks, but you have yet to partner with someone new. You show promise of being an exceptional officer and I am confident in your abilities. Now, Rukia," and Urahara's eyes gleamed, "Ichigo here can understand your situation." He paused and then offered, "His father was my partner, Isshin."
Rukia's eyes widened and Ichigo sighed and bowed his head. "Do you have to tell everyone that?"
"It saves time on introductions," Urahara replied, throwing folders in front of them. "Here. Read this. Get to know one another. You guys can start working tomorrow. But before you leave, would you like to join me for dinner tonight, Officer Kuchiki? I'll make sure that it won--"
Urahara watched Ichigo and Rukia's retreating backs with a mournful sigh before pulling more tissue from the box to wipe away the remnants of Rukia's drink from his face. And then grinned. "It's going to be an interesting partnership," he murmured and went to wash the fresh coffee stains from his uniform.
Ichigo scanned the folder on his new partner and raised an eyebrow at some of her bio. Top of her class, highly recommended by her former section chief, perfect records, everything. She had graduated a year under him and despite her diminuative size, was apparently a fierce and innovative fighter, and apparently had a third level black belt. He also did not fail to note her last name and the possible connection to the fairly well-known member of Sereitei Corporation's Board of Directors, Byakuya Kuchiki.
"So where are we going now?" Rukia asked him after he showed her to the closest coffeemaker, her desk, the gym and everything else, in that order.
He dumped the profile of his latest partner in his desk, gave her a once over and raised an eyebrow. "A third-level?"
She grinned. "What, don't believe it?"
He drank the last of his lukewarm coffee. "Meet you at the gym in ten minutes."
Eight minutes later, he found her in loose clothing, stretching and warming up. He silently sat across from her and mimicked her motions, limbering up for what could possibly be the first decent fight with someone other than his father and Chad in a long time. The last time he fought someone smaller than him was Tatsuki, and he usually managed to kick her ass nine times out of ten (much to Tatsuki's chagrin).
"Ready?" asked Rukia.
Rolling to his feet, Ichigo put his arms up.
They spent at least ten minutes sizing one another up, lashing out with half-hearted swats, and another five reassessing their primary evaluation of each other. Rukia was much more agile than Ichigo ever thought she would be, in motion more often than not and jumping heights that he didn't think she could jump. Ichigo was cleverer than Rukia thought he would be, his eyes following her every movement and reading into them with a speed that only two other people had ever managed to do sparring with her.
Ichigo took a deep breath, lying on his back, trying not to breathe too deeply as Rukia's elbow was centimetres from his throat.
"I could've taken you on with one arm tied behind my back," she announced, grinning at his expression.
"I was going easy on you anyway," Ichigo returned, pushing her arm away and sitting up so he could rub his aching head from where it came in contact with the floor.
"You're not half-bad for a rookie," Rukia continued, ignoring his comment. Her grin widened when she saw the gleam in his eyes and said, "You fight too clean though. You would've been dead in less than two minutes if you fought like that on the streets."
"I doubt you've seen much street-fighting yourself, Rookie," he replied before flopping back down onto the mat. The ceiling lights were really too bright for a gym, he thought.
Rukia shrugged. "You're just a sore loser. And if we were on the street, I would've taken out my Walther. You're paying for lunch."
He closed his eyes. "Get your own fucking lunch."
She toed his side lightly. "You're really a sore loser." Her voice took on a sing-song quality and Ichigo groaned. "Oh, poor widdle Ichigo, ego got trampled by a widdle gwirl. What will your peers say?"
"Okay, okay, geez," muttered Ichigo, clambering to his feet. "But just this once."
Rukia's smile turned mocking. "Sure Rookie," she said sweetly, elbowing his ribs. "Whatever you say."
Renji tilted his chair back, put his feet up on the desk and linked his hands behind his red hair. He scowled at the person in front of him, ignored the paper cup of coffee before him and said, "Whaddya want?"
"That jumpsuit really doesn't go with your hair," Urahara told him cheerfully. "Want something to eat? I can get someone to go out and get us a couple of pastries."
"I hope your die of a heart attack."
Urahara patted his stomach. "But what a way to go."
Renji turned his head away. He hated the Section Chief, a man full of grins and smiles and offers that Renji was hard put to refuse. The last time Urahara was here, he offered him early parole in exchange for the names of the people involved in the bust that Renji willingly took the rap in. He had been tempted; God knows how tempted he had been. Two fucking years in the slammer, no visits from his compadres, and he was living in orange jumpsuits, fading tattoos and food that tasted like shit. The only thing that kept him going was the memory of those months prior to his imprisonment, the first girl he had ever really ever fallen for, and the fact that as long as he was alive, in here, she was probably out there, living her goddamned life. Not that she was grateful for it, Renji thought with a scowl, and then took the thought back. Rukia was a bitch, but she wasn't an ungrateful one. She just acted like she was.
"Renji Abarai, you're going to be stuck in here for a long time, you realize."
"Fuck you."
"Yes, we've established that my tastes don't run towards tattoos, as attractive as some people might find them," Urahara replied, his smile seraphic. "How would you like early parole?"
"Why don't you go--"
Urahara held up a hand. "Tut, tut. Different terms this time, Abarai." His coal-dark eyes gleamed, and Renji suppressed a shiver. Kisuke Urahara and his partner were the ones that had caught him five years ago. "How would you like to return to the Gotei 13?"
"Go to hell."
"And join you there? No thanks," replied the section chief, sipping his coffee. "But what if I say that you can really return to your former gang? No holds barred, no bugs, nothing."
Renji brought his chair back down to the ground with a thump. "What's in it for you?"
"I want you to act as my agent among them," Urahara replied calmly. "I can wipe your record clean, give you a new start at life and a decent income for two years after this is all over."
"After what is over? This fucking farce? Aren't you scared I'll go turncoat on you?"
Urahara shrugged. "It's a risk I'll have to take. You're not a bad guy, Abarai. You just act like it." He paused to finish the rest of his coffee and added, "Oh, I haven't told you about my latest recruit. New officer. Name's Kuchiki. Pretty girl. Kinda short, maybe four feet seven inches. Dark hair, large eyes. That kind of thing."
Renji closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Opened them to see Urahara regarding him. Renji scowled. "Why the fuck do I care about some rookie?"
"I know you're covering for her," Urahara informed him calmly, leaning over to snatch Renji's coffee and sip it. "I also know who her brother is, what he's trying to do, and what the Gotei 13's motives are. What I don't have is evidence, and I need that. You do this for me, Rukia walks free, and you can follow her. You don't..." Urahara shrugged.
"You don't have any proof."
Urahara gave a faint smile. "Oh? Do give me some credit for having eyes. I do know what it's like to fall in love." The strangling noises that Renji was emanating only made Urahara raise a knowing brow. "So...do we have a deal?"
Renji was silent for a long moment. His eyes swept across the bare room, the smiling man sitting across from him. He clenched his hands into the pant of his orange jumpsuit, thought of his lonely prison cell and the asshole that he called a roommate for the last year and a half. "I hate you," he murmured, finally.
Urahara's smile widened. "How unfortunate."
end part one