Story Title: Solitary Moments
Summary: Ichigo encounters a side of Urahara he never imagined seeing before. NOT Yaoi!
A/N: So my apologies to my regular readers. If you're unfamiliar with the Bleach anime/manga series, then this story will make very little sense to you.
To the Bleach fans, this story ignores the events of the Bounto Arc from the anime but follows that basic timeline…
Please visit my profile and vote on the poll there to help me determine the direction I will take with future fanfic posts!
Disclaimer: I can't draw anime/manga to save my life. I definitely own no part of Bleach.
School had been in session for a little over a week, and Kurosaki Ichigo was feeling restless. After the events of the past summer – regaining his shinigami powers, training with Urahara, going to Soul Society, and battling against members of the Gotei 13 in order to rescue Rukia – Ichigo's life had taken a turn for the slow and boring. At first he had thought the respite from life-threatening dangers would bring a relaxing peace, but knowing that Aizen was out there plotting against Soul Society left the teenager on edge. Thinking he should be making some sort of preparations for the traitor's inevitable reappearance, Ichigo decided to pay a visit to Urahara, despite any misgivings he felt about getting involved with the eccentric shopkeeper and ex-shinigami captain… again.
It was late when Ichigo left his home to head for Urahara's Shoten, but he felt confident that the shopkeeper would invite him into his home for tea and strategy talk. The orange-haired teen just hoped things would stop at strategy talk tonight. He didn't want to go to school tomorrow with fresh bruises from any of Urahara's crazy training schemes. Sado, Ishida, and Orihime would understand, but Ichigo had no idea how to explain any more new injuries to his other friends. His substitute shinigami duties left their fair share of impacts on his health (mainly sleep deprivation at this point), and there were only so many plausible excuses he could come up with to appease his friends' curiosity without repeating himself. Ichigo couldn't help thinking that sometimes life among the living really sucked.
There was a closed sign on the door of Urahara's Shoten when Ichigo arrived, but the teen didn't hesitate to step up on the porch and knock lightly on the wooden framework. No sound came from within the shop, however, causing Ichigo to frown. Usually Jinta and Ururu could be heard bickering while they cleaned up from dinner or Tessai would be moving boxes and sorting inventory after going over the day's sales receipts. But tonight there was nothing.
Frowning further, Ichigo tried the door to find it unlocked. He slipped inside the shop and glanced over the darkened shelves and aisles.
"Urahara-san? It's me, Ichigo," the teenager called. "Anybody home?"
There was no reply, but the orange-head noticed a dim glow coming from the door to the hallway at the back of the shop. He moved toward it silently, listening for any hint of life in the building beyond himself. All of the rooms off of the lit hallway seemed to be dark, but Ichigo began systematically checking them one at a time, searching for Urahara or one of his associates. The teenager had already cleared the kitchen, dining area, and office when he came to a Spartan room with two futons spread out on the floor. He would have dismissed it as empty too, but he had caught the barest of movements out of the corner of his eye just as he slid the door open.
Ichigo turned to see the target of his search, Urahara Kisuke, sitting in a shadowed corner with a sake jar beside him and his signature green-and-white striped hat in his hands. The briefest flash of surprise flickered through the shopkeeper's grey eyes before it was consumed by an emotion that the teenager never thought to see on the man's face. But that, too, was swallowed by the familiar expression of calculating mischief that had become the bane of Ichigo's existence over the summer.
"Ah, Kurosaki-kun, I didn't hear you come in," Urahara hummed, smiling innocently. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine evening?"
Ichigo watched the shopkeeper quickly don his hat as he spoke, hiding his grey eyes under the deeper shadows created by its brim. To most, the half-hidden face made Urahara's grin all the more frightening, but to the orange-haired teen, after witnessing the abrupt change in expressions a second ago, the hat only served to highlight the façade that the shopkeeper wanted the world to see.
Ichigo frowned again. "How would you know what it's like outside if you're sitting back here in the dark, Urahara-san? And where is everyone?"
"Tessai took Jinta and Ururu to a baseball game, leaving me with the shop all to myself tonight. I had invited Yoruichi to join me for a little drinking and fun, but she made other plans for the evening and didn't even bother to include me," Urahara pouted.
Ichigo wanted to roll his eyes at the childish expression, but something about the older man's tone seemed off. It didn't hold the same playfulness that the teenager had come to associate with the shopkeeper, indicating that Urahara was struggling to hold up his familiar, infuriating manner. Ichigo had realized early on after he first met the man that the eccentric personality the ex-captain put forth was just a mask, but whatever the shopkeeper was trying to hide right now, it wasn't his typical, frightening power and authority.
"Urahara-san, drop the act," Ichigo requested with a sigh. "Observation might not be one of my stronger skills, but it's pretty clear even to me that something's bothering you."
Urahara opened his mouth to reply but suddenly shut it again and ducked his head. Silence fell for a moment until Ichigo strode across the room and knelt down before the shopkeeper.
"Urahara?" he asked softly. "What's wrong?"
"What was it like, Ichigo? What's Seireitei like nowadays? How are Yamamoto-soutaicho and Ukitake-san and Kyoraku-san? How's Byakuya-kun? Is Soi Fon doing well as a captain, living up to Yoruichi's legacy? Mayori hasn't wrecked the twelfth division, has he? If he has, I'll never forgive him." The ex-captain looked up at the orange-haired teen with a watery smile, locking eyes with Ichigo as he let his habitual mask drop completely.
"You're homesick, aren't you?" The substitute shinigami realized, offering Urahara a sympathetic smile. Ichigo shifted positions, moving the half-empty sake jar as he settled comfortably at the shopkeeper's side. "I won't make any stupid claims about knowing how you feel. I've neither been exiled nor been alive for as long as you've been away from Soul Society. But I can listen, and I'll do my best to answer whatever questions you have for me."
"I wanted to go with you, you know, but the restrictions placed on me to enforce my exile won't let me pass through the senkaimon. I was tempted to try, though, even though I know it to be suicide," the shopkeeper whispered.
"I prefer you alive rather than dead, Urahara-san, even if I find your training methods torturous. I wish you would have explained about your exile before we had left for Soul Society, though," Ichigo replied. "Aizen assumed I'm your subordinate because you trained me. Because of that, not knowing about your past put me and my friends in unnecessary danger."
"I apologize for that, Kurosaki-kun. Please rest assured that I would have mentioned it had I thought such assumptions would be made."
"You know, I forgave you for withholding information back when we first came home, just as I forgave you for your actions." Ichigo commented, leaning against his companion's shoulder. "You don't need to feel guilty as long as we work to avoid such oversights in the future."
"The future? You still want to work with me, be my student? Even after what Aizen revealed to you about my past?" Urahara stared at the teenager in surprise.
"Hey, as long as I don't turn out creepy like Mayuri, I can't think of a better sensei than you among the living or the dead."
"Is he creepier than me?" the shopkeeper asked, a hint of his usual playfulness edging into his voice.
Ichigo turned his head to smirk at Urahara. "Unless you're the one who taught him that trick of changing his body into a puddle of goo to avoid being killed in battle, then I think Mayuri wins hands down."
"You're right. That is creepier than me."
Ichigo grinned as the exiled shinigami chuckled, the sound rich and honest. Even if the teen couldn't understand just how the shopkeeper felt, at least he was helping to sooth Urahara's heartache in this moment. And that was enough for now, Ichigo thought.
End A/N: Stupid endings are stupid, but I can't get anything more to stay on plot. Anyway…
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Thanks for reading! – Stony Knight