Bleach Fic, Chapter 2
The following evening, Hanataro Yamada, 7th seat of the Gotai 13's Fourth Division, and proud clerk to a small convenience store in the human world, was just finishing the business of tidying the counter and securing the register for the night. His soft black hair fell into his face as he worked and he pushed it back absentmindedly, humming a cheerful little tune.
As he locked away the petty cash and cast a quick eye over the store to unsure it was ready for the following morning, he threw a small rucksack over his shoulder, grabbed his keys, and exited the store, carefully locking the double doors behind him. The streets were quiet and unusually dark. He glanced up, noticing that the nearest row of streetlamps were out. This did not concern him, though, and he set off cheerfully into the night, ready for another dinner of the unusual boxed noodles that he found so amazing, and maybe even a carton of this juice he'd heard so much about. Now he knew the secret to opening them, courtesy of Rukia, he just couldn't wait to give all the flavours of this juice a try.
There is something almost aimless in the way Hanataro walks, as if his mind is always somewhere else, and this evening was no exception. It was no surprise then that he was unaware of the crowd of skulking, large men that had been following him for the past few streets.
As Hanataro walked into a particularly dark and secluded alley, he was grabbed from behind and pushed against a nearby wall. Hanataro, standing maybe five feet 5 inches tall, looked up into the face of his attacker, a look of hopeless resignation and naïve goodwill on his sweet, slightly dopy, face.
"Uhm, yes? Can I help you with something?" He almost squeaked, fear starting to build as he noticed the other four hulking men who stood behind the man currently attempting to grind his spine into the brick of the wall behind him.
"Give us all your cash. We know you store clerks carry it home with ya." The man growled, leaning close.
Hanataro blinked and then waved his hands, smiling. "No, no. I'm not allowed to do that. No money is to be taken off store property." He intoned, as if reading from a book. "So, you see, there's nothing I can possibly give you."
The man slammed him against the wall again, causing Hanataro to bang his head painfully.
"Please, I don't want any trouble!"
Oh man, he thought, eyes wide. I wish Ichigo or Ganju were here. . .
The would-be thief leaned even closer, eyes glistening with malice.
"I don't think you understand. We want money, and you are going to give it to us."
"What if I don't have any?" Hanataro enquired, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
The man grinned meanly. "Then we'll just have to have a little fun with you."
The others sniggered, and the ring-leader pulled back his arm to deliver a powerful punch when a clear, decidedly female, voice rang out.
"Okay, that's quite enough of that. Let the poor boy go, please."
Collectively, the men turned and squinted into the darkness, only just making out the silhouette of a tall, lean woman.
Without releasing Hanataro, the thug sneered and called out into the shadows. "Or what? You think you have time to call the police before my men get you? Maybe you'd like to have some fun with us too, eh, lady?"
A weary sigh was clearly audible in the ensuing silence.
"I don't need the police."
A man at the back of the group chuckled sinisterly. "Oh, I think you do."
"No," and suddenly the voice was right by the man's ear, making him spin around in surprise, right into the hilt of a sword aiming for his thick head, "I don't."
In the following confusion as the men responded to what, to them, seemed like a whirling, silent attack of impossibly fast punches, kicks, and, occasionally, the flat of a sword, Hanataro was promptly dropped, falling to the floor and wincing as his sore head banged once more against the hard wall.
After what was only a minute or so, the men lay groaning on the dirty ground, and the silken sound of a sword returning to its sheath rang out in the darkness. A figure loomed above Hanataro and he cringed back slightly, before steeling himself and glaring stubbornly up at the shadow.
A hand appeared before him and the woman leaned down until he could make out her face. She smiled. "Let's get out of here before these guys come around, yes?"
Hanataro paused then nodded and took her hand shyly, letting her pull him to his feet and down the street, away from the slow to recover thieves.
When she'd judged they were a safe distance away, the woman turned and smiled once more at her companion. Her long, white hair fell around her shoulders and down her back, and she wore a forest green sweater over worn jeans. Kind violet eyes gazed at his upturned face.
"Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"
Hanataro's hand went to the back of his head unconsciously, and the woman stepped close, reaching around him to gently feel the area. Hanataro blushed slightly at her proximity (she was so close he could smell her perfume, which made him think of the trees that blossomed in the gardens of the Sereitei) but remained silent.
"You've got a bit of a gash there but nothing serious. And, you know," she gazed down at him, looking thoughtful, "I have a feeling that won't be a problem for you."
She flashed a warm smile and held out a hand. "I'm Sakura Takahashi by the way."
Hanataro bowed low. "My name is Hanataro Yamada. Thank you for saving me." He looked up at her with wide, appreciative eyes, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy who'd been spared from further beatings.
"Not a problem," Sakura waved a hand dismissively. "Can I walk you home? I don't want you to get waylaid by more attackers after I've already gone to the trouble of rescuing you."
Hanataro blushed again and nodded shyly.
"Oh! Actually, I'm on my way to a friend's house. We have new noodle flavours at the store and I thought he'd like some." He stopped, seeming embarrassed. "You don't have to come with me if you don't want to."
Sakura smiled down at him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"No, really. I insist."
The two walked on. Sakura would have classed the silence as peaceful, maybe even companionable, whilst Hanataro, still overcome with shyness and gratitude, felt distinctly awkward. As they neared their destination, however, he started to loosen up, and risked talking about his work at the store. Sakura listened and nodded and asked all the right questions, and, by the time they were outside a small house with the words 'Kurosaki clinic' painted above it, Hanataro was completely at ease.
"I really think Ichigo will like these," Hanataro chattered as he walked up and knocked on the door.
Sakura froze. "Did you say 'Ichigo'?"
Hanataro nodded happily. "Yes, Ichigo Kurosaki! He's a friend of mine. Well, sort of. I think he is." He paused then nodded once more. "Yes, definitely a friend."
"Well, I'm sure he'll love the, uhm, noodles." Sakura smiled brightly and started to edge away, "but I really should get going."
She paused; the door opened. A tall, orange tassel-headed teenager stood in the doorway, lean body encased in a t-shirt with a band logo and jeans.
"Hey! Hanataro." He greeted his friend, and then his eyes rose over his shoulder and fell upon Sakura's face.
"You!" He yelled, pointing at her, anger written all over his features.
Hanataro stepped back, clutching his precious noodles to his thin chest and looking surprised.
"What's the matter? Do you know Sakura?"
"Sakura, eh?" Ichigo growled, scowling and looking quite intimidating as he loomed over her. "You're an idiot! Trying to capture a Bount of all people, and then running off in the middle of a battle! What the hell's wrong with you?! I should," he stepped forwards, hand reaching for her arm, and was cut off suddenly as a foot collided with his head.
Sakura blinked and looked down at the prone form of Ichigo lying in a crumpled mess on the floor. A large hand took hers and she looked up into a handsome, older man's face, darkened by a thin beard.
"I apologise for my son's rudeness, Miss." He said, raising her hand as if to kiss it and gazing into her eyes with enough intensity to make Sakura flustered.
"Oh, I. . .", she didn't know what to say and was thankfully saved from a response (and possibly a kiss) by Ichigo roughly pushing his father aside and yelling at him.
"What the hell is wrong with you, dad?! And leave her alone, you old pervert!"
The two men started to tussle and Sakura looked on with genuine confusion.
"Well, I'll, uhm, just be going," she said to no one in particular, before smiling at Hanataro and making her escape.
He watched her run off, looking a little sad, and then turned to stare in horrified fascination as the Kurosaki men continued to fight each other. Eventually realising that they were being watched, Ichigo pushed his father into the house and slammed the door behind him, standing under the porch light with Hanataro. He stared moodily out into the darkness then scratched his orange hair and smirked.
"Okay, we need some answers." He grabbed Hanataro and pulled him behind him. "Let's go pay Urahara a visit."
Ichigo half-opened the door to the Urahara Shop and peered inside.
"Hey! Anyone around?"
A large figure loomed over him and opened the door wide with one huge, tanned hand.
"Ah, Ichigo," boomed the imposing man, "Only you could be so rude as to open a door with the words 'closed' clearly written on the front."
The orange headed youth grinned, totally unashamed. "Hey Tessai, is Urahara in?"
Tessai Tsukabishi beckoned the two younger men inside before wiping his large hands on his apron, huge muscles bulging at the simple movement, and gesturing for the two to go through the shop and into one of the private back rooms. Inside, they found Renji Abarai seated opposite Urahara, a cup of steaming green tea in front of him, his Zanpakutou placed at his side. He nodded at Ichigo and Hanataro as they seated themselves around the table.
"Ah, Ichigo," Urahara tilted his head slightly so that his eyes were just visible beneath the wide brim of his trademark green and white striped hat. "Just what can I do for you today? I assume it's something to do with this intriguing young lady that Renji has been telling me about?"
Renji scowled into his cup as if the mere thought of the woman in question was enough to put him in a bad mood. Being quick to anger, however, Ichigo didn't take this too seriously, particularly as his own feelings about the girl were less than glowing.
"Yes. Are you familiar with her?"
Urahara smiled and shrugged his shoulders elegantly. "The assumption that I would is rather flattering but, no, I can't say Renji's description rings any bells."
He sipped his own tea and waited whilst Tessai filled Hanataro's and Ichigo's cups before continuing.
"Renji mentioned that she created some kind of barrier from spirit energy?"
"Yeah," Ichigo shook his head. "I've been weighed down before by immense spiritual pressure but I've never encountered a wall of it. It wasn't impenetrable," he smirked a little smugly here, "but it does make me wonder just who the hell she is, what she is, and what she wants with the Bount."
"Yes," Urahara stapled his fingers together and peered down at the table in thought. "That is what disturbs me the most. Nevertheless!" He brightened, grinning at the younger men before him, "I will endeavour to learn more about our strange visitor, and it should not deter you from your task."
"I don't think she's bad." Hanataro's soft voice made the others turn to him. He hesitated but continued. "I mean, she rescued me just now from some thieves; that's why she was walking me home. And she was. . .nice." He looked sheepish, remembering how she'd rested her hand on his shoulder and how her eyes had smiled so warmly into his own, and how she'd smelled of flowers.
"So some stranger rescues you like a stray dog and she's your friend for life?" Renji scoffed, eyes hard.
Hanataro looked down at his tea and fort the blush he could feel threatening to rise. "Uhm. . ."
Ichigo laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him.
"I'm not convinced she's our enemy, either, Hana, but until we know for sure, we can't trust her."
Hanataro nodded, though he was still a little disappointed, and felt as if Sakura was someone they needn't concern themselves with. He'd feel silly saying such but sometimes he'd just know about someone, and right now was one of those times.
"If it helps," he said, "she told me her name was Sakura Takahashi."
"I'll look into it." Urahara repeated, sipping his tea.
Ichigo rested his chin in one hand and gazed gloomily at the far wall, his brow furrowed in thought. Ever since the Bount had come to Karakura Town, things had been fraught. Since he'd become a substitute Shinigami, Ichigo had become used to fighting. He knew more about Zanpakutou then ever before, and he certainly knew more about his Zanpakutou, Zangetsu. It wasn't so long ago now that he'd achieved bankai, though he'd so far been unable to accomplish this in the human world. This frustrated him greatly, particularly now when he was facing, arguably, his most formidable enemy yet. And they still didn't know why the leader of the Bount, Kariya Jin, was after Uryu, the reserved, proud Quincy who Ichigo attended school with.
And now there was the issue of this odd woman with the weird hair and eyes. . . .
Suddenly, Ichigo was pulled from his thoughts by a rhythmical drumming against his hip, and the noisy beep of Renji's cell phone. Ichigo pulled out his vibrating, clattering substitute Shinigami emblem and leapt to his feet.
"A Hollow. C'mon, Renji!"
The two jumped up.
"Urahara, could you," Ichigo was cut off as his soul was forced from his body by the special glove Urahara had donned. He watched his body, now little more than an empty doll, fall to the floor in an undignified heap.
"Hey! Oh, yeah, thanks. Can you watch my body for me?"
"No problem."
"Right!" Ichigo ran from the room, Renji on his heels.
Urahara and Hanataro sat in sudden silence. Hana was the first to speak.
"Uhm, do you like noodles?"