S T O R Y : Pendulous
C H A P T E R : Chapter Three
R A T I N G : K+ this chapter.
P A I R I N G S : None (in this chapter)
S U M M A R Y : Kirio Hikifune.
D I S C L A I M E R : Yare-yare. I am not Kubo Tite. Though I love the man, I am not going to pass myself off as him.


"A Captain!" Urahara was clutching his hair, threatening to pull chunks from his scalp. "How could I not figure out she was a Captain – the Hikifune Taichō!" His bony feet splattered on the wooden floors with the enervated sound you would expect to hear from a drunk clamouring his way down a cobblestone street in wooden-geta. Combined with the scratch and rasp of Yoruichi's chopsticks slicing through the morning's breakfast, the room was filled with the racket from the two teenagers.

"Kisuke, you really should not get so worked up about this," Yoruichi mumbled through a mouthful of dangos, reiterating the phrase for the umpteenth time for what was the better half an hour. She hoped another few repeats and the blonde would finally settle down from his breakdown. If not, a show of her physical superiority was not beneath the princess. "After-all, Kirio-san was not wearing her haori – she could have been-"

"I should have known!" Urahara thundered on, the determination on his face from anger erased from every pore and cleft when Yoruichi's frightening gaze trapped him in a web of submission, forcing the breath from his lungs and the words to die on his tongue.

"As I was saying," she began, hating the interruption, "Kirio would not think any less of you if you did not know who she was. She must be the first Captain you have met face to face."

Prying himself from his steady pace, he looked hopelessly towards Yoruichi, biting his lower lip till it was swollen and red from his ministrations. His pleading expression gave her that momentary jolt of guilt for having snapped at the innocent boy. She rolled her eyes and extended her dirty chopsticks towards him as a gesture for him to speak – which was exactly what he was beseeching with his puppy-dog stare.

As if all there was between his words was his lips locked with Yoruichi's glower, his verbal thoughts flowed out of him like water through opened flood gates when he was given permission. It was enough to make the calm aristocrat recoil from her apathetic facade.

"I should, should, should have known!" He went on to parrot the slogan with the same intensity that Yoruichi experienced when her playmate burst through the screen doors just as Kirio flash-stepped from the terrace – unsure if he wanted to catch her or to arrive just in time to miss her in a fashion that reminded the noble of the Captain's own antics. He was pink with embarrassment; torn between bowing to Yoruichi for eavesdropping on her 'private' tête-à-tête and reaching out for something he was not sure he could reach, like a dog chasing after a car; not sure what he would do if he actually caught one.

That was over an hour ago and he was still here repeating his worries like a broken record.
Still, she did not expect anything less from Urahara. He was a perfectionist in his own way. While she trained intensively if she was not adequate or wronged, the boy made it a habit to bellyache for a time before taking action. After all, it was not that every day that Urahara was mistaken; he had to accept loss before he would progress to a level that befitted a man of his stature – or so Kirio told her when Yoruichi had initially brought her friend into their conversations. She just wished his whining involved... well, less whining. She shook herself on a musing on focused on the raging Kisuke who was waving his hands in a flamboyant fashion that Kirio would be proud of. His little chirps of complaints reached her ears with the same reception of nails on a chalkboard.

"... was I that blind to pick up her aura? A Captain's aura is indistinguishable – or so I have been told 

– so why wasn't that enough for me to pick up on?"

The squeak of chopsticks on ceramic ensued. "She disguised it completely. Even I didn't pick it up," Yoruichi started, preparing for the onslaught of doubts that required reassurance.

"She said she had also been here before – why did I never pick up on her presence?"

"Because she didn't want to disturb you. If a Captain does not want to be found, it's game over."

"The Captain even told me her name was Kirio! How could I not figure it out?"

"Well..." Yoruichi was a loss of words and had to stop eating to concentrate on the answer. She gave a shrug of defeat and within a beat, returned to her food like it was the last scrap of meat on earth. "That's just you being stupid I suppose. We all have our moments."

"Mine just come at the worse times," Urahara announced with a sulk. Finally, the second phase was complete – and Yoruichi waited for the 'time of consolation' before 'acceptance', which meant more talking, but less nonsensical rambling. Bring it on.

"She was not wearing her haori... which is the tell-tale, trademark, label, brand image, emblem, heart and soul of-"

"Kisuke, focus," Yoruichi butted in without pausing the train of food entering her mouth.

He flapped his hands in a mix of appreciation and dismissal which made the corners of her mouth turn in a smile from his indecisiveness.

"But you get what I mean. It is like trying to identify a soldier amid a troop of platoons, a needle in a haystack a-"

The warning glance was all he needed.

He closed his eyes to escape her menacing stare before he fell to his knees begging for forgiveness from the bronze goddess. It took a few minutes, but he could feel his confidence returning to him. It was like a rush of hope to his limbs and soon, he was moving towards Yoruichi and plopping himself before her to watch her eat; retain a closeness that signified the end of his inner turmoil. He lurched forward, hoping to spike a dumpling from one of the bowls. Naturally, Yoruichi was a head of the game and snapped then up one by one.

He remembered he was late this morning and his punishment proceeded.

"She is different, ne?" he commented, more to himself than anything. His cheeks still possessed a rosy hue; like he had been caught out in the sun for too long. Complimented by his soft golden hair and full lips, he retained an air of innocence that could put a child to shame. By the way Yoruichi was watching him he guessed his own appearance and quickly rubbed his cheeks in hopes of expunging his flushed appearance – maybe it was embarrassment... or awe? A combination of the two bringing colour to his wan complexion?

Whatever, he moped, casting his fiery gaze on the floor for a minute before he felt himself cool off. It was back to his jovial self by the time he looked up; his eyes pressed into the mounds of his plump 

cheeks, disappearing between the two rolls of flesh when he gave a grin. It was comical that his face retained so much fat when his body was already lean and long; half teenager, half baby it seemed.
Yoruichi was not able to criticize his appearance at the time. Her cheeks stuffed with food, they bulged, sagging with the weight. There was a lethargy plastered on her features like an animal that had fed too much. She was so indulgent that she forgot about that air of superiority she was meant to retain; what Kirio spoke so heatedly about. Eyes lidded, lips speckled with crumbs, Kisuke had the right to wonder whether the Shihōin House was in good hands. He held back his laughter while Yoruichi consoled him with as much assertiveness as a cat could muster before an afternoon nap. He wondered deprecatingly whether Yoruichi's 'alter-ego' had a role in shaping her personality.

"A breed of her own."

"She doesn't wear shoes; she looks like a wreck... what is she?"

The girl gave a shrug. "A Captain, I suppose."

"Is she allowed to look so..." he gave a low breath, weaving his words into the sound, "messy?"

"I don't know, but I think she has worked hard enough to earn herself some privileges."

For the first time, Yoruichi appeared more alert, putting effort into her words. It had Urahara edging closer instantly like a kid waiting for the pinnacle of his bedtime story. Fingers tightened around the edge of the table, propelling him forward until the wood was pressed against his chest, feet knocking hers beneath the surface.

"What do you mean, Yoruichi-san?" he inquired with the same cheery attitude he would be known for later in life. While it was difficult maintaining this good-humoured all the time, he was slowly mastering the technique, putting it to 'good use' as Yoruichi had hoped. While he could seem bothered at times, he had learned that being stoic was the means to go about emotion; whether it be frustration, anger, disappointment or fear. All of it could be masked with an apathetic disguise.
He could not do that and had to compensate with whatever he had. Being jovial was more fun after all; it always left a lasting impression, and the carefree smile left people guessing. Even Yoruichi with her skills had a hard time finding fault with this form of masquerade – despite her early protests – and the right guesses into his mind set were becoming few and far between.

Now, he was using his cheerful tones to conceal his excitement.

She scoffed. "She has not noble background, no preceding Shinigami ancestry, no prodigal powers – nothing."

Urahara cocked his head to the side, confused. He was expecting the girl to sing Kirio's praises, not make out to be that she was a nobody amid the realm of talented Shinigami.
However, the insults didn't end there.

"She even failed to get into the academy on the first two exams – and then had to complete the entire six years when most of the Captains manage in half the time."
Her 'matter of factly' speech did nothing to boost her reputation as a woman detached from her Noble title. The bored roll of her eyes and scoffing tone forced the vein on Urahara's brow to throb annoyingly; his eyes squinting from hearing Yoruichi speak like any other girl from a rich family background. He feigned a hoarse laugh, reminding himself that Yoruichi was not used to the trials and tribulations that most Shinigami had to go through. He would be surprised if she had taken the entrance exam because of her last name. But he became distracted before his musing could take off.

Her eyes were suddenly closed in consideration as she finally pushed the empty bowls from reach. It reminded Urahara of the times where Yoruichi couldn't understand one of his farfetched ideas, lost in translation when he explained his dreams and visions to the level-headed aristocrat.

"Then... how?" he asked. "How does someone like that become a Captain?" He knew he sounded envious; that his voice was a pitch higher than it should be, but Yoruichi's criticism fuelled his hope to the point where he could not contain himself. He sat upright, barely placing any weight onto his calves which were curled under him. At a time like this, it was just like the purple-haired minx to find anything to entertain her; even if it was the saucy remains lying at the bottom of her bowl. She stirred her chopstick in the mix experimentally before looking up at Kisuke with a scowl.

"How do you think, baka?"

"Eh?"

"Just like you will – by working hard with relentless pursuit!"

He dropped his sights down at his hands already, the skin hard from their intense exercise and, from building their training lair Sōkyoku hill. Did he really have to work more than he was doing now? Yoruichi found it so easy. Already into her first year at the academy – an eon of difference in skill it seemed – the Shihōin heiress was a legend; perfecting her skills at shunpo and fascinating teachers with her abilities across the board – and she was not even a senior yet! The boy's stomach churned at the thought of having to live up to her reputation; the lucky kid who was staying at the Noble's home. He loved fighting, despite the aching limbs and stiff muscles that came with it. It was fun. But he knew what people would think of him; a spoilt, lucky sod who was scored when he met Yoruichi and was taken in.

As if reading his mind, the girl leant back on her slender arms, glancing down at Urahara through her frame of lashes; taking in his deliciously innocent expression – hands intertwined on his lap, lips in a pout – and the impossibility of his task weighing heavily on his shoulders.

"You probably have more natural talent then her; probably more that most of the current Shinigami trainees. Be thankful for that!"

And Yoruichi was not exaggerating. Urahara possessed a mentality that amazed her, and at times, was even a little too brilliant for his own good. In addition, he was a talented swordsman, completely at ease with his partner, Benehime and with her aid, on the road to becoming apt at hand-to-hand combat. With his natural flare for learning he would have a seat reserved for him on a squad; she was sure of it. Kirio saw this as well, and the woman's encouragement only furthered Yoruichi's desire to train Urahara until he was sick of the sight of her.

This support was not enough evidently. Kisuke frowned upon hearing his praises, wriggling his toes into the cushion out of discomfort. Her golden stare was unnerving, along with the mounting pressure she exerted with her honest opinion of him. The only way to remedy it was by talking about the Captain. Yoruichi saw no other alternative.

"She worked for the entirety of those six years. With absolutely no support – or so I've heard... no 

one thought that she would even pass. While she had talent, she lacked the potential to back it up and-"

Waving hands in front of a princess' way was not the key to success, but Urahara did it anyway. His frown was permanently etched on his lips, slate-grey eyes closed in contemplation. He did not care who you were or where you were from – Yoruichi-sama's words did not have a hint of reason behind them.

"Nani? You cannot have potential without talent and vice-versa."

She glowered, arguing her point. "Of course you can, boke."

"How?" Kisuke challenged with a sulk.

"No one thought she could do it. Unlike you and I, she had trouble with the basics. Then when it was upped in difficulty she sometimes outshined the rest though it was never for very long. She is very temperamental that way; she lacked the potential to further herself."

"So... she had talent... but lacked potential." The phrase was becoming clearer in his mind. Or perhaps he was sinking in intelligence. "No one believed she could do it?"

"Maybe make a Shinigami – after all, she had her moments, but to become anything more than a seated officer after years of experience? It was out of her reach."

Urahara was smiling again, Yoruichi noticed. Inside his clogs were reeling with her ability to tell a good story. It was a trait she secretly admired about herself. The fact that he had stopped wittering on between words was a promising sign also.

"Sōtaichō was well aware of this as well. After personally rearing two of the finest Captains the Gotei has ever had, Kirio would not have crossed his mind when he reviewed the reports on future Shinigami..."

Kisuke was lost at the mention 'Old Man Yama' founder of the Shinigami Academy and practically ruler of everything under the sun. While there was obvious respect for the Captain, Kisuke could not repress that look of fear when he pictured the leader of the 1st Division in his mind's eye; detailing him with all past references and stories he had collected over the years. The menacing stare, the indifferent facade and the knowledge that he wielded the most powerful zanpakutou was enough to cause a tremor to run along the length of Kisuke's arms. He eased the Goosebumps down with a brushing stroke.

"I thought he would only get involved when it came to Captains and their Vices?"

She shook her head. "Yamamoto-sama was the founder of the Academy, remember? His obligations stretch far into the running of the school as much as they do with the Gotei 13. Kirio was never the favourite, but after being dropped into the bottom class of every aspect of fighting, she began to train diligently on her own." Yoruichi took a pause to breath and to let the situation settle on Urahara. "Her zanjustsu," she continued, "was her biggest weakness." For training Shinigami, it was a one way ticket to the second class if your sword-skills were not phenomenal; a good grasp of the technique could save someone from a poor effort at kidō or a weak display of hakuda. Kisuke felt his heart sink at the proposal that Kirio suffered at the art of swordsmanship.


"Chotto-matte, Kisuke, don't make such a face!" the woman admonished, flagging him down with a raised hand. "I didn't say she was rubbish at fighting, did I?"

"But you-"

"I said she had poor zanjustsu; that could mean anything! Her fighting was up to scratch but she had no relationship with her sword at all. It made it hard for her when everyone spent their days rearing their swords to become better fighters. After a time, she could not keep up."

"But to become a Captain you need to be practically perfect in each art – how can you improve so much?"

"Assiduousness." Yoruichi's happiness faltered, gaze dropping somewhat. "But, she went idle for many years before a Squad finally accepted her. Sōtaichō probably made it difficult considering she was not a perfect student during her years."

"Is that what she told you?"

"Well, she said she did not get along well with the Commander-General, so it is a logical judgment."

Urahara grimaced. "It cannot be easy then."

Yoruichi's indestructible determination wavered, forcing a silence to wedge itself between the two. Her lithe arms were limp against her supporting tighs which were splotched with bruises; blues, yellows and blacks painting her flesh like patchwork. It was not easy, she knew that; she knew that the moment she and Kisuke made a pact to train everyday to reach their goal to become members of the Gotei. Nonetheless, seeing herself in such a state – her thighs bulging with muscles, now littered with marks – something broke within her, chipping at her ironclad resolve. Fists were suddenly clenched, the veins swimming beneath the skin rising to make ridges along her narrow wrists.

"It impossible," she whispered, the admittance shocking Urahara back onto his calves, the support she built within him crumbling along with her. Yoruichi was so much weaker like this; fragile, beautiful and impossibly vulnerable. Without a defence, Kisuke saw her femininity sheltered beneath the rubble of her masculine air and demanding persona. She seemed embarrassed, huddled in a corner with her eyes lowered and chin tucked close to her chest. It was enough to tempt Kisuke to hold her; run his hands along her arms and press her up against him until she was smothered in comfort and support – a feat she had always saved for him. But it was that useless thinking that awoke Yoruichi from her musing. As if sensing his distress she hardened, sending a glare to the boy so he retreated back within himself; no longer concerned for her but for his own safety. Her sharp fangs glistened while her lips stretched into a threatening grin.

"That's what makes it interesting, ne?"

Kisuke nodded furiously, his gorge rising with the feel of Yoruichi's overwhelming presence. His back straightening to attention, gave a moan of protest – muscles tightening protectively when they saw what was coming – as if it had been stricken by Yoruichi's heated gaze. However, as much as he adored sharing the princess' beached moments, he could never deny the unmistakable allure of the confident woman; his friend, tutor and mentor.

"We'll get there, Kisuke," she promised boldly, propping both hands to their respective knees to press them into the floorboards. "And I'll be fun."

She was already up on her legs before he noticed; bruises forgotten, her strong legs stretching in anticipation as she took long strides towards the terrace much like Kirio had done. Already determination oozed from her every side; confidence radiating from her like a like when she cocked a head around with hand on the prominent arch of her hips. Kisuke stood to attention, ready to follow her to their secret base for the training that they had already delayed. But he stopped; uncertain about one final thing.

"Yoruichi-san?"

"Nani?"

"This all must have taken years, ne? So I was just wondering... how old is Hikifune-sama?"

Yoruichi gave a lopsided grin, reaching back to scratch at her nape. "Even I don't know that, but I would not go asking Kirio-san if you want to keep your head."


T R A N S L A T I O N :

baka: idiot
nani : what
ne: right?
sōtaichō: general commander
zanjustsu: sword fighting
chotto matte / chotto : wait