A/N:While writing this chapter I realized I'd messed up the dates for the previous one, and instead of counting years backwards, I'd done the opposite *headdesk* It's been fixed now.

Reading translations of the newest Bleach databook gave me a LOT of Kisuke & Shinji feels, so I've put off the inevitable estrangement for a few more years… maybe even decades I DUNNO, but anyway, there's some Shinji in this chapter because I can.

Kisuke refers to a human inventor in this chapter, though he doesn't name him. He's talking about Nikola Tesla, whom I think he'd genuinely admire and like, and whose autobiography came out in 1919 (it's free online btw and it's definitely worth a read). Aside from being the world's most prolific inventor and arguably the greatest mind that ever lived, Tesla was also capable of being a major troll. They would totally have been science bros and vented to each other about Edison and Aizen over drinks.

Also, there is a fair amount of teenage feeeeeeels in this chapter, which I always dreaded writing, but it needs to be dealt with before our two protagonists can start moving on with their lives and learn to deal with such matters in more refined ways. Hopefully, the last few scenes of this instalment will make up for the angst.

As always, notes have been posted on tumblr, and you all have my thanks for your lovely comments on the previous chapter. Enjoy!

Cultural Notes:

Kabuki: Traditional Japanese theater, whose subject matter is always dramatic. One of the most popular themes in Kabuki during the Edo period was that of doomed lovers, often forced to choose between love and duty. Certain plays became so influential, that they had to be banned to stop people from imitating them and committing double suicide as the only conceivable way out of such a dilemma. This ties directly into the whole concept of Honne-Tatemae (Truth and Mask, respectively) which is still relevant in Japanese culture, and far too complex to analyze here. At least, er… at this particular moment in the story. *nudge-nudge, wink-wink*

Hinoki: A type of wood similar to cypress and indigenous to Japan. Often used (as in this chapter) as a luxury material for the construction of tubs used in traditional Japanese bathrooms.

Genkan: Entryway for Japanese houses, where guests and residents are meant to take off their shoes.

Shōji: Sliding doors used either as windows or as room dividers (think the doors that show up when Soul Reapers open a gate to Soul society).


CHAPTER 8: The Creeping Shadow


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OCTOBER 6TH, 1922 A.D., URAHARA SHOP, KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN

.

"This is weird."

"Is it? No weirder than using a Hell Butterfly, I think."

From the other end of the line came Hirako's slightly distorted grunt. "It's weird 'cause with a Hell Butterfly, I know what's carryin' and relayin' my message. How the hell does this even work? Like… does the polyphone—"

"Telephone."

"—WHATEVER, copy my message and then… what? It signals yours and…?"

Kisuke chuckled as he lay down on the pillows by the kotatsu, receiver sandwiched between shoulder and ear to allow his hands to freely fiddle with his pipe. "Well, it's not all that different from a telegraph, really. It simply transmits multiple tones in succession using a multi-reed dev—"

"OKAY, OKAY, FORGET I ASKED."

"You did urge me to – what was it- get with the times? And so I did."

"You tried on the suit?"

Kisuke thought of Hirako's latest parcel lying open upstairs, knowing that about half its contents would never be used. He didn't really see the point in willingly choosing to wear something more restrictive for the sake of fashion. Even the small concession of moving from a comfortable yukata to a top and trousers combination had taken him a long time to get used to, and he had only even attempted the transition since it required less of an effort to slip into when compared to properly tying and fitting a kimono. He had to admit, however, that the cap had been fun to try on.

Now the telephone, on the other hand, had been a trend he had been itching to adopt ever since its conception. Not to mention the fact that it had been the best business decision he'd ever made; re-opening his store to humans required a great deal of careful maneuvering and no small amount of memory spells every now and then, but it had certainly paid off in droves. He suspected it wouldn't be long until telephones became a household item, but for the time being, Urahara Shop was the go-to destination for the entire neighborhood when it came to placing a call.

"I listened to the records," Kisuke said, sidestepping the sartorial half of Hirako's gift. "Excellent selection."

"See, that's what I meant when I said get with the times, ya blockhead," Hirako said, letting out a sigh. "Ah well, at least some of my impeccable taste rubbed off on ya. And thanks for the telewhatever. Rose said he liked the color, was wonderin' where you got it; all the ones down here are black or brown fer whatever reason. Told 'im you probably made it yerself."

"How did you know?"

"Please, who else would make this thingamajig green? So, is this like… a super version? Does it zap ya if ya take too long to answer or somethin'?"

"Would I ever do that?"

"Yes."

Kisuke laughed at Hirako's certainty that there was come chicanery involved with the gift. Truth be told, he had attempted to modify it, but not with any intent to prank them. Unfortunately, human inventions and spiritual energy didn't mix particularly well, he had discovered to his chagrin. He was determined that there had to be a way, but it was a fine balance between barely affecting the device and completely destroying it. His attempts to infuse them with a touch of kidō were getting closer to the end goal every day, but the small mound of fried circuits in the back room of the store was a testament to the complexity of the project. And they're not exactly cheap, either.

"I am hurt, hurt that you would—"

"Uh-huh, yeah," Hirako said, and Kisuke could hear the eye-roll in his voice. "I'll bet y— What? Yes, I'm on the polyphone, Hiyori—"

Kisuke decided not to correct Hirako this time around, trying instead to listen in on the muffled voice sounding from somewhere in Hirako's vicinity.

" 'Course it's Kisuke. How many other people do we know with a—? I ain't tellin' 'im a thing. You wanna talk to 'im, you come here and pick up the—"

There was a rustle on the other end of the line, then some barely audible cursing, before Hiyori's voice rang through the receiver. "…I ain't got nothin' to talk about with baldies who won't even move their lazy asses outta their damn CAVE."

It was a few more seconds before Hirako returned, after wrenching the receiver away from Hiyori, Kisuke could only assume. "Yeah, she's uhhh… Well she's got a point, don't she? We've seen Yoruichi a coupla times now," Hirako said. "You coulda visited, too."

I guess I could have, Kisuke thought. Yoruichi was certainly not opposed to him joining her in her travels. Though they had never discussed the possibility, he knew there was a standing open invitation to travel alongside her whenever he wished. And he would, he definitely would, but he couldn't leave the store behind right now. Or Tessai. Perhaps next time she decided to head south, like for her trip to the Okinawa Islands two years ago, he would consider it. Unless he happened to be busy, which couldn't really be helped.

"Y'know…" Hirako began, a taunting edge to his voice. "I'm beginnin' to suspect you've been bullshittin' everyone all these years."

"Meaning?"

"Meanin' I haven't seen you an' Yoruichi in the same place fer decades now," Hirako said. "You sure she's really yer girlfriend?"

"I seem to recall you reaching that conclusion yourself without me ev—"

" 'Cause I remember lotsa kids back in the Academy goin' all: Yah, you wouldn't know 'er, she's from Rukongai, and such shit when talkin' about their imaginary girlf—"

"Why don't I call her right now—"

"She's there?"

"Yes; she just returned from Russia—"

Hirako started laughing.

Oh, for fuck's— Pressing the receiver up against his chest, Kisuke turned his head toward the dining room. "Yoruichi!"

There was an all-too-eager grin on her face as she peeked around the threshold; that should have been his first clue to her intentions. The fact that she showed up so fast, as though she had been waiting for him to call her over, should've been his second one. "Yeeees?" she said in a sing-song voice. That should've been his third clue.

Kisuke held up the receiver toward her. "Would you please be so kind as to inform Hirako that you are, in fact, my girlfriend?" he said, just a touch impatiently. He did feel a little foolish referring to her as such: it was too small a word to describe what she meant to him, but he had a feeling that if he chose to define their relationship in a more appropriate term, it would only be an invitation to more taunting.

Yoruichi trotted over to his side and plopped down on the pillows stomach-first, then yanked the phone out of his hand. "I expected better of you, Hirako," she said. "So I did the guy a favor, you don't have to rub it in his face—"

Kisuke dove for the receiver, but Yoruichi rolled onto her back and slammed a foot against his chest, cackling. So apparently she'd overheard their conversation. Of course she did. Damn her supernatural sense of hearing. Kisuke grabbed her leg and pushed it aside, trying to reach for the receiver again, only to find himself trapped in a headlock, his face half mushed against a pillow and her chest as she rolled back onto her stomach. Accepting defeat, her stopped trying to wrest the phone away from her and simply lay there, listening to her laughing alongside Hirako.

At least the view is nice.

When Yoruichi and Hirako were done mocking him, conversation clearly switched to a more pleasant subject, judging by the way Yoruichi's arm relaxed around his neck. Digging her hand through his hair, she grinned broadly, her whole body perking up at Hirako's query. "I got to ride a train!" she said brightly. "All the way from Vladivostok to Moscow!"

Kisuke rolled onto his back, Yoruichi's hand following his movement as she continued to toy with his hair. He placed one arm behind his head, watching her animated face above him as she narrated the highlights of her longest trip to date to Hirako. Being apart for almost an entire year hadn't been easy, but he hadn't been able to find it in him to guilt her into returning earlier, not when her letters had been so enthusiastic about everything she'd seen while exploring Russia.

On the plus side, it had been, without a doubt, the most productive year of his life. The realization had brought to mind the words of a truly remarkable human inventor, who had famously claimed he partly owed his unwavering focus to voluntary celibacy.

Empirical evidence aside, Kisuke didn't think they would ever see eye-to-eye on that particular subject.

"Anyway, say hello to everyone for me," Yoruichi said. "Here's your friend back. Do svidaniya!" she said, in a very decent imitation of a Russian accent –Damn, that was kinda hot- then handed Kisuke the receiver.

He gave her an only half-hearted glare as she smirked and leaned down, giving his ear a gentle bite before she got up and slinked toward the dining room, back to her interrupted card game with Tessai.

It took a while before Kisuke became aware of the fact that Hirako was speaking to him, his head full of imagery that had nothing whatsoever to do with his old friend, or telephones, or anything of the sort. All right, so perhaps there is some sort of correlation between celibacy and focus. "Hnnnnn?"

"I said," Hirako reiterated. "How's the shop goin'? You still cheatin' Soul Reapers outta their money with yer trinkets?"

Ever since first learning of the existence of the shop, Hirako had always taken great pleasure in hearing of his steadily improving business. Kisuke couldn't exactly deny that many of his practices involved some form of trickery, but he hadn't yet found it in himself to admit to Hirako that he actually enjoyed his dealings with Soul Reapers. Despite everything that had happened prior to their exile, despite his own deep-sated issues with Soul Society authorities, whenever he thought of their former home, it was always with fondness and longing, as opposed to Hirako and Hiyori's bitterness.

Then again, he couldn't exactly fault them for their resentment: out of all eleven outcasts, he had been affected the least by the turn of events. Eight of their number hadn't been quite as fortunate.

"It's a living," he said. "Speaking of trinkets… How are the gigai holding up? Any issues?"

"Pffft, fishin' fer compliments, are we? You know they still work just fine; you built 'em to last."

"Well, I would be remiss if I didn't at least ask—"

"Want me to praise that big brain a' yours? That it? Want me to stroke yer ego a bit?"

From inside the dining room, Kisuke heard Yoruichi call out in feigned disgust. "Ugh, get a room already."

"Hear that? Jealousy," Kisuke said to Hirako. "All the proof you need."

"Yeah, yeah…" There was a long pause. "Seriously though, get off yer ass and visit, alright? Soon."

For the majority of people, Kisuke assumed the draw of the telephone was instant, remote communication. For him, it was communication without the need to face his interlocutor: it made lying a lot easier, even though it wasn't often that he lied to Hirako. Or even to himself. But this would have to be one of those rare occasions. "Well, with all this post-war euphoria and economic prosperity, I might just take you up on the offer and splurge on a trip," he said.

"Prosperity my ass," Hirako said, scoffing, though he sounded pleased with Kisuke's reply. "You an' I both know this shit ain't gonna last. Not sure what I expected humans to be like up close an' personal, but how different could they have been, really? Sometimes I sorta forget just how fucked up Soul Society was, y'know? Didn't take long to be reminded."

Despite his nostalgia and yearning for everything he had been forced to abandon, Kisuke hadn't once, not for a second, forgotten how insidious Soul Society politics could be. Hirako may have gotten a generous taste of it in later years, but for Kisuke, it had been an ever-present shadow, lurking in the dark behind almost every single decision in his life.

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' `-' `.-' `-' `-' `-' `-.' `-' `

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FEBRUARY 20TH, 129 B.H.I., URAHARA RESIDENCE, 2ND DISCTRICT, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI

.

"Okay, I like you and all, Urahara, and I know I volunteered for this, but what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Shiba Kaien dropped the crate in his arms with a thud and hurried to shut his younger brother's ears with his hands. "Sister! Not in front of Ganju!" he said, scandalized.

"He's making me carry a flayed body!" Kūkaku said in protest, as Ganju grumbled that he wasn't a baby and tried to disengage from his brother.

Grateful though he was that Yoruichi had managed to wrangle together a veritable moving crew for him, Kisuke was starting to see just why Yoruichi's visits to Kūkaku's home were either short-lived, or tended to get moved outdoors more than often. In between Kūkaku's impatience and young Ganju's attempts to persuade his much older siblings to include him in their activities, moving day was going much slower than he had anticipated: there was still a large mound of crates sitting at his front yard.

Still, even with all the hubbub, it was shaping out to be a pleasant day. Especially since no-one had yet to challenge his claims that his arm was still in recovery. Which it was. Partly.

"That's just Fleshy," he told Kūkaku, chuckling. "He's my gigai."

Stopping mid-way through pulling Fleshy out of a long trunk, Kūkaku narrowed her eyes at him. "…Okay, that sounded dirty."

"It's a synthetic body," Yoruichi said, picking up Fleshy's legs and helping Kūkaku pull him up. "Soul Reapers use them for missions in the human world."

"Annnnnnd… you have one why?" Kūkaku asked him, the three of them now heading toward the front entrance behind Kaien and Ganju.

"Research," he said.

"Right, of course. My mistake," Kūkaku said, rolling her eyes. She looped her arms around Fleshy's midsection, beads of condensation forming on her forehead as she carried the heavy body indoors with Yoruichi's help. When they stepped in through the threshold, Kisuke saw her suddenly scrunch her nose up, her brow furrowing, and she sniffed at the air. "Is it supposed to—?"

"Stink like a rotting carcass left out in the sun for a week?" Yoruichi helpfully supplied.

Reaching down to the sides of the gigai's face where the ears would normally be, Kisuke clamped his hands down and scowled at Yoruichi. "Yoruichi! Not in front of Fleshy!"

"He does stink!"

Hands still placed over Fleshy's nonexistent ears, Kisuke let out a sigh. "Yeah, I know. I've tried washing him, but the smell just won't go away."

Kūkaku and Yoruichi walked past the living room and into the study, where they deposited Fleshy on the floor as Kaien and Ganju headed outside to bring in more crates. Certain Yoruichi was about to drop the gigai and move on, Kisuke watched her like a hawk, until she got the message and, rolling her eyes, very slowly laid Fleshy's legs down while giving him an exasperated glare.

"Try vinegar," Kūkaku said, massaging her shoulder.

"Hmmmm?"

"It removes bad odors," Kūkaku said. "Just make sure you use a light coating: you want it to evaporate, not seep in, 'cause then you get rid of the other smell, but you're stuck with your place stinking of vinegar."

Both he and Yoruichi stared at her in silence, and he knew they were thinking of the exact same thing: they had both expected Kūkaku's knowledge of household matters to be negligible.

"I live with four men," Kūkaku said, arms akimbo. "You learn stuff like that or resign yourself to death by noxious fumes."

Though Kisuke was satisfied with the explanation, Yoruichi clearly wasn't. She crossed her arms before her chest and arched one eyebrow at Kūkaku.

"Oh, all right," Kūkaku said. "Shiroganehiko does the cleaning. But I did learn things when it was just the three of us!" she added, holding one index finger up. "I can impart knowledge, like… actual pearls of wisdom."

"Thanks," Kisuke told her. "But I'm not a complete stranger to housework."

His mother had spent the majority of her early life as a commoner, and thankfully, she had insisted he not depend on Asuka for every little thing, even though he had grown up as nobility.

"Can you cook?" Kūkaku asked, a very knowing expression on her face.

"Well, no, but I—" Kisuke began, ready to list the unimpressive list of chores he was capable of, when Kūkaku's words fully sank in.

Nearly everything related to the regular upkeep of a home was an easy enough –if tedious- task and cleaning in particular didn't have to be a daily routine. Cooking, however, was. And he didn't have the slightest idea how to prepare even the simplest of meals.

"See that?" Kūkaku said, turning to Yoruichi as she pointed at Kisuke's undoubtedly ashen face. "That's the trademark Clueless-Suddenly-Independent-Previously-Pampered-Noble look. Learn from our mistakes and pick up a few skills first before you're on your own," she said, patting Kisuke gently on the shoulder before heading outside.

"Noted," Yoruichi said, giving him a sympathetic grin.

One mild panic attack later, Kisuke took a break –"From what? Watching?" Yoruichi had quipped- and headed downtown to pick up some dinner, as fulfillment of the promise he'd made Yoruichi and the Shiba siblings for their help. He tried not to dwell on the fact that, for the foreseeable future, most of his income after graduation would surely be spent on restaurant food until he managed to reach a skill level where food-poisoning would no longer be a concern.

An hour or so later, when he returned to the cottage laden down by a small mountain of bags, he saw to his surprise that the front yard had been completely cleared of boxes; he had expected the whole process to end sometime before nightfall. As soon as he stepped into the house, the reason for their swifter than expected progress became clear: there were two more guests in his living room.

Kūkaku and her siblings all sat on crates around the fire pit, the former just now getting a fire started. Yoruichi was a few feet away, rummaging through a crate along with Harada, who looked up upon Kisuke's arrival and gave him a cheery wave. "Hey."

Yoruichi emerged next, addressing the group behind her. "Okay, I found pillows," she said, before turning to him. "I'm surprised your arm can handle all that weight," she said pointedly.

Salvation arrived in the form of Harada, who rose up to help him out with the food, and Kisuke was spared from having to make up an excuse. "Hey, yourself," Kisuke told him. "How—?"

"I remembered you mentioning something about a move this Saturday," he said, taking a few paper bags off Kisuke's arms. "So I figured you'd need a hand. And I found a volunteer on my way over," he said, motioning with his head toward the back.

Kaneko was also there, currently helping Yoruichi hand out sitting pillows to everyone. Catching Kisuke's eye, she gave him an oddly shy smile. "Is it okay that we're here?" she asked.

"Of course," Kisuke said amiably, making his way toward the fire pit. "I brought enough food for everyone. And thanks for the help," he said, depositing the bags upon one of the unoccupied boxes. "Okay, uhhh… I think I have plates…"

"Kitchen, second row, third from—" Yoruichi began, but seemed to think better of it and got up. "C'mon, I'll show you."

Kisuke followed Yoruichi into the kitchen, where she pulled out a crate labeled Kitchenware and knelt down on the floor to open it, now in search of the utensils and dishware he had brought over from the Urahara estate.

"You sure your healing arm can handle the massive burden of seven plates?" she asked.

Oh, she is not letting that go. Kisuke leaned against the kitchen cabinets, grinning as he watched her pull out the plates one by one. "I got you pot stickers," he said.

Yoruichi paused momentarily, rolling her eyes up to look at him, her brow furrowed. "Where from?"

"Suzuki's. Made sure he put extra ginger in all of them."

"Extra extra?"

"Extra extra. That second package is all yours."

Yoruichi piled up the plates and stood up, handing him the stack, a mild scowl still on her face. "You think you're so slick," she said.

Kisuke simply grinned at her, waiting for the inevitable shift in her expression. Not relenting quite yet, Yoruichi maintained her dignified frown, though he could see the stirrings of amusement in her eyes.

"Kitchenware is all here, along with the nine crates you labeled Miscellaneous," she said. "Good luck sorting that out. Books, journals and science crap are in the lab—"

"You mean the stud—"

"The lab. Clothes and linen are all upstairs, but I'm thinking I should get your futon out. You only have four pillows."

"Sure, go ahead," Kisuke told her. "I'll set out that plate of pot stickers for you."

"You know, one day, it'll take more than food to appease my wrath," she said. Before she turned her heel to leave the kitchen, he caught just the briefest glimpse of a grin on her lips.

Though the house was still practically empty save for the many crates holding his belongings, none of his six guests seemed to mind as they all relaxed by the small fire, engaged in conversation and a shared meal. Plates were emptied and refilled many times over, and by the time their appetites were sated, it was nightfall.

Yoruichi had unearthed a set of hanafuda cards from one of his boxes and had gotten a game started. Kisuke had opted out, choosing instead to open up a bottle of sake and watch the game, carrying a relaxed, casual conversation with Harada and Kūkaku who had decided to join him. Resting his back against a sturdy box, he enjoyed the sweet, post-meal lethargy and the warmth of the fire nearby, only half listening to Harada and Kūkaku, allowing his mind to wander elsewhere.

He had spent countless hours agonizing over how his mother might have felt about some of his latest choices, but watching the lively game of cards unfolding before his eyes, he hoped she would have approved of at least one: this small, modest cottage that had been left to wither for nearly one hundred and thirty years was full of life once again. Gaze trained on Yoruichi, he smiled as he saw her laugh wickedly at the others' frustration for her third consecutive victory, and he was certain the sight would have made his mother smile as well.

As his eyes fell upon the person seated right across Yoruichi, however, Kisuke's smile faltered.

When it came to meeting and getting to know Shiba Kaien, he had always been convinced of two things: that it would be inevitable, given both his own and Shiba's relationship to Yoruichi, and that it would be unpleasant. Envying and resenting the person who was betrothed to Yoruichi had always been a given, but what Kisuke had never expected was to actually like said person.

It was far easier to think of Yoruichi's intended as this faceless, quite possibly arrogant noble whom she would only begrudgingly accept and tolerate. But Shiba Kaien was kind, humble, handsome, could easily carry an intelligent conversation, and worst of all, he got along with Yoruichi. He made her laugh. He treated her with respect. He could very possibly make her happy in the future.

Kisuke had never felt such burning hatred for another person before.

Such was the intensity of this sudden spike of resentment, that he had to excuse himself and step outside to the patio for some much-needed fresh air. Dropping down onto the deck he let out a sigh, his fingers toying with the unruly strand of hair tickling the bridge of his nose. What the hell was wrong with him? Didn't he want her to be happy? Would it be better if she spent the rest of her life with someone she couldn't stand, just so he could feel superior to her husband?

…...Yes.

Burying his face into his palms, he shook his head. You are the worst, most disgusting bastard to have ever walked this land.

Coming to terms with the fact that he could never realistically end up with Yoruichi had been a hard pill to swallow, so he had always found solace in the hope that whoever her parents chose for her, that man would ultimately never develop the kind of intimacy he had with her. It wasn't much, but it was all the comfort he could ever hope to draw from that inescapable situation.

It was also the pettiest, vilest thought he'd ever had, as well as the most compelling argument against ever acting on his feelings. If there was one thing he had enough clarity to accept and recognize, it was the fact that Yoruichi deserved a good, kind man.

Wrapping up his haori around him more tightly, Kisuke brought his knees up to his chest and rested his chin upon them, weathering the bracing cold of the night. He didn't think it would be advisable to stay indoors right now. With everything that had happened over the last few months, he could definitely do without any added emotional burden.

He couldn't have been gone for too long, certainly not long enough to merit anyone's growing suspicion of his absence, but apparently someone had decided to join him outside. It was Kūkaku, carrying the open sake bottle.

She took a seat next to him, then handed him a glass which she quickly filled up, and said nothing for a long time, simply gazing at the overgrowth in his back garden while sipping her own drink. Eventually, she broke the silence. "Sucks, doesn't it?" she said. "That whole no parents thing? I'm sorry you had to experience it. But… y'know… you're in company."

"Thank you."

Kūkaku turned to him, holding up her glass in a toast. "May they… Shit, I dunno… I kinda hope my parents got to reincarnate as someone leading an easy life. Maybe a sweet old lady's lapdogs or something."

Kisuke chuckled at the sound of that. In all honesty, he had tried not to dwell too much on the matter of his mother's possible reincarnation. Not every soul entered the cycle as it was, and even if there was a way to ascertain that she had, he had a feeling he might be tempted to spend the rest of his life looking for her. "That's… actually a rather comforting thought. Mind if I steal your wish?" he said, raising his glass as well.

"Nope, go ahead," Kūkaku said, and they brought their glasses together, each taking a long sip in honor of the dead. Kūkaku drained her glass, then set it down carefully, shifting her gaze toward the moon. "Wanna hear a story? It's not very uplifting, but it's applicable here and I think you'll appreciate it.

"Applicable to what? Death?"

"Actually, the opposite of that," she said. "There once was this boy. He was very good friends with a girl. They genuinely liked each other's company. Their parents wanted them to marry, thinking it was a good match, but for one thing, the girl wasn't interested in him, not in that way. More importantly, the boy was only interested in other boys."

Kisuke tried to be discreet as his gaze instantly shifted to her, even though she wasn't looking at him. Is she…? Is she saying…? Was she talking about her brother?

"Long story short," Kūkaku went on. "The girl convinced the boy to break off the engagement; she got him to see that they could never make each other truly happy. In the end, however, it didn't really matter. Not when he couldn't see that he was responsible for creating his own happiness. His parents chose someone else for him, albeit someone very sweet and kind. They even had a child, which I'm sure was the sole positive side in that whole mess… He always wanted kids. I bet he's a great father," she said, her half-lidded eyes still staring at the moon.

She's talking about herself. Kisuke had no idea how to respond to her confession. For all the time he had spent in Kūkaku's company over the last year, they weren't really close. Not nearly as close as she was with Yoruichi.

"The moral of the story," she said, and she finally turned to look at him. "Is that all this dedication to honoring your family's wishes is commendable and all, but it's never worth making yourself miserable over. Witnessing it once was one time too many. I don't want to see it happen again to my brother and my best friend."

"I don't… I don't see what this has to do with m—"

"Please," Kūkaku said, giving him a disparaging glare. "Just… talk to her, won't you? I guarantee you won't be disappointed."

It might have been kinder if she had taken out a dagger and stabbed him through the chest. If there was the one thing he didn't need right now, it was confirmation that he hadn't been delusional to hope that Yoruichi might return his feelings.

"I think… you might have misunderstood your friend," Kisuke said. "The boy, that is. Maybe… Maybe it was a self-defense mechanism, you know?" he said, now staring at his knees. "Some people aren't really satisfied with fleeting happiness; they have greedy hearts. Maybe he knew that experiencing a taste of it, only to have it torn away later would destroy him."

"Who says his happiness would've been temporary?"

"Well, given his options, I'd say it was a certainty," Kisuke said. "It doesn't matter whether he chose to be with the person he loved in secrecy or out in the open: in one case, he would be living a lie, and in the other, he would be forcing his lover to go against his family and everything that meant something to him in the first place. Not a recipe for happiness, either."

"I never mentioned his lover's family," Kūkaku said, looking smug. "Looks like someone's projecting."

Kisuke indulged her with a grin of his own just for a moment, before his face fell again. "You cannot mourn over something you've never had, simple as that," he said, taking in a deep breath. "This is the last we'll ever talk of this, yes?"

Kūkaku met his eye, all playfulness draining away from her expression. He could see she understood that there was no rancor behind his words, but she also seemed to understand that this was a conversation that would never and should never take place again. She nodded at him in response.

"Good," Kisuke said. "So… cooking. Any pointers there?"

Kūkaku laughed, and went about refilling their glasses.

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FEBRUARY 20TH, 129 B.H.I., URAHARA RESIDENCE, 2ND DISCTRICT, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI

.

Sinking down to the floor, head leaning back against the wall separating Kisuke's study from the patio, Yoruichi wrapped her arms around her legs, unsure of what to think. She didn't know what she had expected to hear when she'd first noticed Kisuke and Kūkaku's absence and went looking for them, but that certainly wasn't it.

Was she supposed to be shocked by the revelation of how he felt for her? Though he hadn't verbally confirmed anything of the sort, when Kūkaku had implied the feelings were mutual, she had felt it, the shift in his spiritual pressure: a sudden surge of pure joy, closely followed by agony. Much like her own reaction.

She wasn't naïve enough to claim that she'd had no earthly idea. She had caught him staring, more than once, and she knew that she had a friend for life in him, that he would do anything for her. What she hadn't known until now was whether the two would ever meet in the middle. To be perfectly honest with herself, she hadn't known whether her own feelings for him had been more than deep platonic affection.

She supposed there was no longer any need to wonder: the moment she'd sensed her own feelings mirrored within him, there was no longer any question as to whether she had truly fallen for him or not.

"It doesn't matter whether he chose to be with the person he loved in secrecy or out in the open: in one case, he would be living a lie, and in the other, he would be forcing his lover to go against his family and everything that meant something to him in the first place."

You idiot.

For someone with the uncanny ability to see past irrelevant details and get to the heart of a matter, he had missed the point entirely when it came to this.

In his mind, there was no greater burden than asking her to live a lie. In her mind, the greatest burden would be living with the consequences of such a lie being inevitably discovered. He had no idea, the lengths her father was capable of reaching when it came to protecting his pride. And if he did, but simply did not care, he was an even greater fool than she had originally thought.

Keeping their continued friendship a secret, though complicated and at times exhilarating, had in no way prepared them for what it might be like, to keep a different sort of relationship under wraps. Besides, the consequences of discovery were fairly innocuous for the former. It was a game for children, one which paled in comparison to the games adults played. And they were no longer children themselves, after all.

If nothing else, Yoruichi had made a promise, one which she never intended to betray.

I will protect him with my life, watch over him for as long as I draw breath, you have my word.

As she stood up to return to the living room, not feeling like eavesdropping on the conversation any longer, she heard footsteps behind her: Kūkaku was coming back inside. Though she hurried her pace, there was no way to move fast enough without running and alerting them to her presence. She had barely reached the threshold to the study when Kūkaku slid the doors open.

Dammit. There was no point in pretending she hadn't been caught in the act.

Not saying a word, Kūkaku closed the door behind her again –apparently Kisuke was staying outside- and approached her, an indecipherable look in her eyes. "You're getting pretty good at cloaking your spiritual pressure," she said, keeping her voice low.

"Am I? Wasn't really trying," Yoruichi said with a shrug, then swiftly turned toward the living room without sparing a glance Kūkaku's way. "Hey, Kotone!"

Kotone looked up from her cards questioningly.

"Kisuke's being all mopey out there. By himself," Yoruichi said, giving her a smirk as she spoke that last word. "Why don't you go keep him company? I'll take your place in the game."

The girl blushed deeply, looking as though she wished Yoruichi had been a little more discreet, but she placed her cards down and stood up, quickly brushing past them to step outside.

Kūkaku watched the whole exchange in stunned silence, and before Yoruichi could return to the living room, she placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "You heard," she said, her expression one of both concern and pity.

Don't look at me like that. Don't— It's better this way. "Heard what?"

Letting out a huff, Kūkaku threw her hands in the air. "Ugh, you know what? Suit yourselves. Make a damn Kabuki play out of your lives, see if I care," she said, then stalked into the living room, ignoring the puzzled looks she received from Kaien.

Yoruichi folded her arms before her chest, staring at the floor and trying to convince herself that she truly believed what she had just told Kūkaku. It is, it really— It may not feel like it now, but… She turned toward the patio, seeing that Kotone had closed the door behind her. She could make out both her and Kisuke silhouetted behind the semi-transparent frame.

"Oiiii, Yoruichi! Are you coming or not?" called Kaien from inside.

Looking away, she took a deep breath and tried not to picture what might be happening outside. "Yeah, be right there," she said, then forced herself to return inside.

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.

From shallow riverbanks to lush forests, from roaring waterfalls to steep cliffs, she searched and searched again every single time she entered her world, looking for any sign of the mysterious, beautiful cat.

On her very first tries, she had been unable to catch neither sight nor sound of it, but she could feel its eyes on her back as she traversed the forest from morning till dusk. It was on her fifth such attempt that the creature had allowed itself to be seen –for she was certain it was no accident- and even then, it was only in small flashes of ochre fur or golden eyes that peeked out of the thick jungle for a split moment, before blending into the surroundings again. At first, she thought the cat might have been toying with her, taking its sweet time to study her, but she was proven wrong when she realized that there was a distinct pattern in its movements and mannerisms that always repeated itself:

The cat wasn't hiding from her, it was guiding her.

With every new venture into the forest, she would make it deeper and deeper before losing sight of the creature, then spend the remaining few hours in frustration; the trail had grown cold, which was when she would give up for the day and return to reality. It didn't help that the cat never showed itself before dusk, making it harder for her to navigate through the jungle once the sunlight began to thin out. But the more she grew accustomed to the cat's lighting fast movements and learned how to recognize subtle clues left behind in the forest, the more the cat revealed of itself.

It was nearing dusk now, and Yoruichi was hurrying along the path, too focused on the trail to mind the errant twigs that left their marks along her exposed arms, or the jagged rocks hidden deep into the mud that knifed into her bare feet; she had precious little sunlight left. The cat's spotted, bushy tail had just disappeared through a small opening between two dense, leafy bushes. Yoruichi brushed the leaves aside and sped through, letting out an angry huff as a few wayward locks of her hair came got stuck on her damp face. She brushed it aside impatiently, and the moment she regained her vision, she came to a sudden halt, her toes digging into the mud as she gaped at the sight before her.

The cat stood atop a large boulder, its impossibly long tail pointing up merrily. Yoruichi swallowed hard, very wary of her movements. The last time she had been this close to the creature, she had scared it away. On this occasion, however, the cat didn't seem to be the least bit scared of her. Its stance might even indicate that it had been waiting for her. She didn't know if it was the size of its tail –truly it was almost the length of its entire body- or its elusiveness that had made the creature much larger in her imagination, but right now, upon closer inspection, she could see that it was far smaller than she'd originally thought. From head to rump, it would just about reach her waist if they were to lay down side-by-side, and if they stood next to each other, she suspected it would be tall enough to bump its head slightly above her knees.

Yoruichi bit her lip, taking a first, cautious step forward, and the cat leapt off the boulder at once. She was about to curse herself for not being more patient, when she saw that it wasn't running away. Instead, it headed straight for a tall, moss-covered tree and latched itself into the trunk, starting to climb up with remarkable effortlessness. About half-way up, it stopped to look over its shoulder and straight at her, then continued to scale up the tree like it was the easiest thing in the world. Once the creature reached the crown, it balanced upon the thinner branches, zooming across them smoothly with its tail ramrod straight and spinning like a propeller. The cat came to rest upon a thick branch, plopping down on its belly and letting its limbs hang down carelessly. Its eyes sought her own, and it stared straight at her. No words were spoken, but the inferred message was perfectly clear: "Your turn."

Yoruichi cringed as she took in the distance from the top branches to the ground. Skilled though she was in climbing, there were three major issues she could pinpoint by merely looking at the tree: there were few discernible footholds, the entire trunk was covered in moss, and the air in this world was very sparse in spiritual particles, which meant that it would take a huge amount of effort to form her own footholds or otherwise use her spiritual pressure.

And most importantly… I don't have claws.

Taking in a deep breath, she approached the tree warily, sinking her fingers into the slippery moss. The coating wasn't particularly thick; she could feel the abrasive tree bark beneath. If I take it slow, she thought as she looked up along the length of the tree. It's doable.

Figuring the best method to go about this task was to eliminate as many chances of slipping as possible, she pawed at the bark until she had a firm hold with her hands, then held on and wrapped her legs tightly around the trunk. Easy does it… Bit by bit, she would reposition her hands and pull herself up, careful to maintain a steady grip. Her progress was smooth and steady, but somewhere around the half way mark, her arm muscles began to protest. Tightening the grip of her legs, Yoruichi wrapped her arms around the trunk and did the one thing she had been cautioning herself not to do the whole way up: she looked down.

Shit, SHIT. Wincing, she looked away from the dizzying drop to the ground and pressed her forehead against the tree, panting. As sweat trickled down her nose and temple, she glanced up toward the cat; it was watching her intently, still in the same, relaxed pose. "Couldn't have picked another tree," Yoruichi muttered at it. The cat lifted one front limb to fold against the thick branch and set its chin upon it in response.

Sighing, Yoruichi felt around the trunk for a good first grip, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible. The last few meters were absolute hell: the entire length of her arms was burning, from shoulder to wrist, and she was certain she had split more than a couple of nails when digging into the bark. When she reached the crown, the creature's tail sprang up, swishing about merrily as it observed her progress. Okay, okay, okay, okay… Do not hurry here, or this will all have been for nothing, she thought as she tried to make the transition to the crown. Biting down on her lip hard, holding her breath, she relinquished one hand and swiftly grabbed hold of the branch above, pulling herself up. She only allowed herself to breathe again once she had climbed onto a sturdy fork, flattening herself against the thick bough. As she tried to catch her breath, blood pumping in her ears, she heard a rustling sound somewhere nearby, and opened her eyes just in time to see a shadow dash over her.

The cat landed gracefully a couple of meters away along the bough, turning around to face her and lying down upon the bark, its sharp yellow eyes locking with hers. Yoruichi pushed a few moist tendrils of hair away from her face, still struggling to catch her breath. This time, she didn't dare move a single muscle, not only because she was afraid she might topple to the ground, but deciding it was best she allowed the creature to make the first move. The cat brought its fluffy, thick paws forward and rested its chin upon them, eyeing her curiously, but making no other movement save for the occasional swish of its tail.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Yoruichi said, pushing herself upright and resting her back against the trunk of the tree.

The cat blinked very slowly at her.

"That's okay… we can just sit here," she said, sinking into a more comfortable position.

After the exertion of the climb, there was a sweet, very dull ache permeating her body, allowing her to relax and forget all about the strange locale, or the odd animal and the confusing ways it chose to communicate with her. For now, she could simply appreciate the beauty of the dense forest, basking in her achievement as the last few rays of sunlight shyly peeked through the openings in the canopy.

Before she knew it, her eyes slipped shut and she succumbed to a content, peaceful sleep.

.

MARCH 1ST, 129 B.H.I., WOMEN'S DORMITORIES, SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS

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Yoruichi awoke to the sight of Rei rolling her futon into a thick cylinder. She was already dressed in her uniform, her short blonde hair in its usual, sleeked-back style. As soon as she realized her roommate was awake, Rei turned toward her, her broad smile reaching her bright green eyes.

"Morning!" she said.

Yoruichi stretched out her legs, arms still wrapped tightly around her pillow. "Good morning," she said sleepily.

"Wow, you look like you had a good night's rest."

"Mmm, I did," Yoruichi said, rolling onto her back and rubbing her palms over her eyes.

"I barely slept," Rei said as she stood up on her feet, carrying her rolled up futon. "I keep having this nightmare that Instructor Aoki calls me forward for the practical and my bakudō just keep exploding in my face."

It took a moment for Rei's words to start making sense, which was when Yoruichi realized it was the last day of classes for the semester. There was only a weekend left for any serious revision, and come Monday, the two-week slog of exam period would officially begin.

And Kisuke had yet to return to school.

As Yoruichi went about her morning routine, she wondered whether he would even remember exams were coming up, considering everything that had happened lately. The customary fifty day mourning period wasn't over yet, and under different circumstances, he would be perfectly excused from attending the Academy. She wasn't so certain what the policy was concerning exams.

Pulling her hair up into a ponytail, she thought of the last time she had seen him, when they'd all helped him move into his new home. He hadn't made any attempt to contact her since, and neither had she, partly because she wanted to give him some time alone to adapt to his new life, and party because… well…

Flattening her hands against the vanity, Yoruichi sighed at her reflection.

You put this in motion. Not that it wouldn't have happened sooner or later, but… Avoiding Kisuke for an indeterminate amount of time was not an option, or at least not one she was content with, no matter what the alternative was.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the cat purred in approval of her determination.

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MARCH 2ND, 129 B.H.I., THE TRAINING GROUNDS, COURT OF PURE SOULS

.

She was light, lighter than any other sword he had ever handled. Her hilt fit in his grip as though it had been molded for his hand and his alone. His fingers flexed and wrapped around the hilt again, his left arm still a little stiff as he brought it forward to grasp her with both hands; reconditioning it to its normal strength and agility would take some time, but he could already feel the results of his training.

Sweat collecting beneath his hairline and down his lower back, Kisuke closed his eyes and swung the blade downward slowly, reveling in the sweet ache that came with pushing a body to achieve greater heights.

Benihime shivered underneath his palm, her distant voice becoming clearer with every move, every thrust, ever jab that cut through the air, letting out a soft, subtle whistling; it echoed in his head like an irresistible melody, beating in sync with his heart.

His eyes slipped open.

"Sing, Benihime!"

The arc of red energy flew out of Benihime's blade as he swung her up, a shrill cry not unlike that pf a bird piercing the silence of the Training Grounds. The surge of power connected with a distant cliff in a thundering blast.

His chest rising and falling as he panted, Kisuke watched the edge of the cliff get reduced to rubble, a grin breaking out on his lips. He held the sword up before him, smiling at it fondly.

She really is a beauty, he thought, examining the dark, razor-sharp blade, the long hilt, the few, elegant touches of crimson in the cord and tassel.

"My, my… Don't I feel pampered," Benihime said. "All this care and attention…"

Kisuke chuckled. Yes, well… I'm afraid that's about it for today. My arm is still not at one hundred per cent and I've been advised to take it slow.

Giving the hilt one last caress, he twisted his wrist, Benihime morphing back into her sealed form as he slipped her back into the sheath secured in his obi. I'll see you again tomorrow, Benihime.

Taking in a deep breath, Kisuke allowed his body to relax and dropped down to his knees, retrieving his water canteen from his bag. He took a seat down gingerly, back resting against a boulder, and downed nearly half the canteen's contents. Letting out a sigh, he stretched his legs and allowed his eyes to wander while he caught his breath. And it was then that he saw her, a few cliffs away, kneeling down on one knee: Yoruichi.

Kisuke set the canteen down slowly, his eyes not leaving her. She sat far enough that he couldn't make out the expression on her face, but it was clear she had been watching him. For how long, he couldn't tell. Despite having already quenched his thirst, Kisuke felt his throat go dry again in milliseconds upon sight of her. They hadn't seen each other ever since his official move to his new home. Ever since…

Though he'd been relatively sober that night, whenever he tried to recall any events it all came back to him in flashes, not a fully intact memory to be found after Kūkaku had returned indoors. He remembered their talk all too well, but everything after Kaneko had stepped outside had become one big, convoluted mess. They had spoken briefly, she had asked about his recuperation, then the subject had turned to the Kyōto mission, at which point Kaneko had inexplicably turned even shier than she had been all evening. It had all started making a little more sense once she'd pulled him forward and pressed her lips against his.

He'd remembered then, Yoruichi's throwaway comment all those months ago; he'd never seriously entertained it, believing that Kaneko may have simply taken a liking to him and Yoruichi had either misinterpreted her intentions or simply wanted to get a rise out of him. In retrospect, he didn't know what to make of the fact that Yoruichi had so casually informed him of Kaneko's feelings for him. Quite frankly, in between trying to work out that puzzle and recalling Kūkaku's earlier words, he had been too confused to even process the kiss until Kaneko had pulled away.

The rest of the night after that awkward exchange was when all memories began to bleed into one another. He and Kaneko had talked again, at some point he had kissed her back –I… I think?- then he recalled everyone leaving for the night –Did I ever say goodnight to Yoruichi?- at some point Kaneko had left as well, or perhaps she had left first, and next thing he knew, he was lying down on his futon in the living room, wondering if he had just hallucinated the entire evening.

For the next seven days he had been trying to piece everything together, his mind far too overwhelmed with thoughts of his mother, of Yoruichi, his worries over maintaining an entire house on his own, and what had happened with Kaneko. At first, the solitude had been a massive relief, but with each passing day, he was becoming more and more desperate for some company, wishing people would stop respecting his mourning period and simply show up if only to say hello. Being alone with his thoughts for too long had only served to drive him to the edge.

To his great surprise, it was Benihime who had pulled him out of his slump. For three days now, he had found solace in training with her and escaping into a world where things were infinitely simpler.

Until now.

Kisuke watched as Yoruichi rose up to her feet, and he knew he only had a split second to collect himself: she could cover the distance in a single jump within the blink of an eye. Part of him knew it was ridiculous, feeling like he had betrayed her by deciding to give this situation with Kaneko a go and see where it might lead, and yet… Would she be angry at him? Would this cause them to drift apart again? If there was one thing he would do anything to avoid, it would be coming so close to losing her again.

Yoruichi reappeared a few feet away from him, putting an effective end to his agony. Upon first glance she didn't appear to be put off, but there was a strange, guarded look in her eyes, as though she didn't know quite how to address him.

She sauntered forward slowly, the slight frown on her face giving way to a strained smile. "You've been holding out on me," she said, pointing toward his sword.

So she had witnessed it all. "It was a very recent development," he said, hoping it didn't sound like he was making excuses.

Yoruichi nodded, resting the balls of her hands against her hips and scuffing the ground with one foot. "What's his name?"

Well… Fuck. He had known he would never share neither his conversations nor Benihime's appearance with Yoruichi, ever, but he was now coming to realize there was no escaping revealing her name. And that alone was plenty illuminating. He couldn't very well lie; at some point or another, he would have to unseal her before Yoruichi's eyes and that would be that. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to speak. "Benihime."

"Benih—?" Yoruichi began to say, only to come to a stop. He supposed there was no hiding the gender, either, not with a name like Crimson Princess. "It's a woman?" she asked, mouth slightly agape at the revelation.

Kisuke nodded.

"Wow, I… I don't think I've ever heard of a Soul Cutter spirit whose gender didn't match the wielder's."

"Captain Kyōraku's. I looked it up," Kisuke said, giving her a sheepish grin.

Yoruichi grinned back at him. "I'll bet you did. So… Benihime. Crimson Princess," she said, and what he had hoped wouldn't happen, did: as she mulled the name over, it seemed to ring some sort of bell in her. And of course it would have: she was the heiress to the Court of Four Maples. "Like the maple?" she asked, looking genuinely surprised.

"Oh, this ought to be good," Benihime said, choosing –Naturally- the worst possible moment to take an interest in the conversation.

Careful not to allow panic to set in his eyes, Kisuke quickly tried to come up with a semi-convincing lie. "Actually, I was thinking it might be a reference to the azalea."

"No, you don't."

"Oh," Yoruichi said. "I thought that was the Crimson Queen."

"She's right."

"Well, there's a blossom on the guard that looks an awful lot like an azalea to me."

"It truly doesn't."

BENIHIME!

Much to his relief, Yoruichi decided to drop the questioning and accepted his explanation. "So… Can I see her?"

Nodding at her, Kisuke just then realized he hadn't moved an inch since she had arrived; he was still sitting on the ground. Hurrying up to his feet, he unsheathed his sword and held it out. "Awaken, Benihime."

Yoruichi's eyes widened slightly at Benihime's transformation, shining with a glimmer of both curiosity and a touch of coveting. He knew she must have been attempting to achieve first release day and night, but much like he hadn't confided in her about his struggles, she hadn't either. There was something deeply personal about a Soul Reaper's relationship to their weapon; this wasn't the sort of training they could undertake together. His own reasons for choosing not to share the burden of his troubles with Benihime made sense to him, even in retrospect, and it made him wonder what it could be that was making Yoruichi equally secretive.

Looking up at him, Yoruichi bit her lower lip gently. "May I…?"

Much like inquiries into a person's inner world were taboo, so was touching another's weapon outside of combat. Kisuke knew she was well aware of this. Yet she had dared to ask, and he found that he could not deny her. After all, she already held a piece of his soul.

Smiling at her, Kisuke deposited Benihime gently into her waiting hands. With as much care as she was capable of, Yoruichi slipped one hand down at the hilt and placed the other under the flat of the blade. He could see that her eyes lingered a little too long on the oval guard and the blossom carving on it, but she didn't reopen that conversation. "She's… she's really beautiful. Very elegant. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

She handed Benihime back to him, and when he had placed her back into her sheath, Kisuke saw that any traces of caution in her earlier expression had disappeared. Instead, she looked like she always did, like the Yoruichi he knew so well.

"So… Have you had breakfast?" she asked.

"Not yet."

"Go wash up and head over to Okada's. I'll meet you there after I swing by my dorm."

"What do you—?"

"I'm bringing back books and notes. You've got a lot of catching up to do and it's almost exam period."

Kisuke stared at her, a little thrown by the sudden shift in both the conversation and the atmosphere. "Yoruichi, I honestly don't ca—"

"I do," she said resolutely. "I care. I'm not going to be satisfied beating you just because you didn't have time to study hard enough. You'll study, you'll work your ass off, and then I'll still beat you for top of the class, got it?"

The more things change… Kisuke smiled at her, marveling at how someone he knew so intimately still had the capacity to surprise him on a regular basis.

"Yes, ma'am."

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Little by little, the fauna grew accustomed to her presence.

Tiny, graphite-colored geckos peeking out from rock outcroppings; boars and piglets warily watching her streak past the forest; tawny, spotted pit vipers coiling unto themselves and rattling their tails in warning whenever she got too close. Even the ever-elusive, dusky brown wildcats that populated the area no longer hid from her, regarding her more like a curiosity, an anomaly in their otherwise balanced ecosystem.

In their world, there was only room for one at the top of the food chain and it was certainly not her.

Barely a few minutes ago, Yoruichi had watched in awe as the cat had leapt off its perch upon a branch to catch a small falcon mid-flight in its maw. Without pausing for a single beat, as the bird twitched futilely in between the creature's sharp teeth, the cat landed vertically up against a tree trunk, all four sets of claws digging into the bark. Its climb up was swift and graceful, and all she could do was wait and watch in fascination as it enjoyed its meal in peace. Then, as though this had been nothing but a pleasant little break in their excursion, the cat set off again and Yoruichi scampered after it.

The sun was beginning to set in the sky above when the creature led her out of the jungle, and into a familiar setting. It didn't take her long to realize she was being guided over to the stream floating down the rock bed, where they had first met. The cat ran ahead and came to a stop by the edge of the stream, crouching down to slake its thirst. Yoruichi followed, still keeping a small, respectful distance, and knelt down by the hard rock bed to have a drink and splash some cold water across her face. As she caught her breath and rubbed her sore muscles, the orange sun dipped low behind the mountain line in the distance.

She turned to look at her feline companion, and for the first time, she was struck by the very power the small animal exuded even in near stillness. Its muzzle was still coated in places by the blood of its kill, and there was a quiet fire burning within its eyes. For all its occasional playfulness in her presence, it was a predator, a creature of unspeakable grace and beauty, a silent assassin operating in twilight.

The cat raised its head once it had had its fill and stretched lazily, letting out a soft mewling sound very much at odds with its true, deadly nature. Before pressing on, the cat turned to her, raising its rump impishly and pretending to get in position to pounce. Instead, it jumped forward and circled around her once, its long tail brushing past her ankles, and it sped away, following the shallow stream up ahead. Just like a common housecat, Yoruichi mused, smiling.

Wary of her footing this time around, she made certain to only step wherever the cat did, as they leapt onto the short ledges and followed the rock bed toward the foothills of the mountain. The more they approached, the more the stream began to resemble a river. Somewhere up ahead, she could her the roaring of another, far greater waterfall. Must be the source of the water. When the sound of the rushing water concealed any and all sounds of the jungle and Yoruichi could feel a light, cool mist against her skin, she knew they had arrived.

The trail came to its end in a small pool at the foothills of the mountain. The tall, frothing waterfall cascaded down the span of a sharp cliff, feeding into the stream they had just followed up. Looking up, following the length of the waterfall, Yoruichi could see that its origin was somewhere within the green mountains up above.

Around the pool, the dense forest continued, leading to an as of yet unexplored part of this world. Yoruichi had expected to be led back into the jungle, but the cat surprised her by trotting around the bank and over to the tree line nearest to the cliff. To her chagrin, the cat began scaling up the leftmost tree.

Ugh, again with the damn trees?

As much as she enjoyed their little adventures and treks into the forest together, she had always assumed that the cat had been leading her toward something special as they explored more and more of the forest. Heading up the trees, however, was a dead-end: they only barely cleared the one-third mark of the length of the cliff, and there was nowhere to go from there.

Was this a test? Hadn't she already proven her worth in this exact same task?

Begrudgingly, Yoruichi followed behind the cat, finding that the climb was far more treacherous than she had originally assumed: the tree trunks were too close together for one thing, and though the way up was riddled with branches that could had served as footholds, they were so thin and brittle that relying on them for a firm grip would be calamitous. Even as she actively avoided them, her top and hakama kept getting snagged during the climb, once or twice nearly costing her her balance.

Even when mired in her frustration, she couldn't help but be impressed at the cat's agility as it bent its spine to slip in between twigs, or bit down upon the long, cascading vines to swing back and forth between trees in search of the optimum path. Every now and then, it would glance down to check on her progress, but it otherwise pressed on ahead, as calm as still waters. When it neared the crown, instead of trying to secure a comfortable resting place, it turned to its left, glancing toward the rushing waterfall a few meters away and, to her shock, it jumped.

Yoruichi was about to yell a futile warning, when the cat landed against the coarse face of the cliff, its front claws digging into the stone. Its hind paws seemed to be resting against something; Yoruichi took a closer look at the cliff, squinting, and noticed the slightly darker line of rock running along the cliff's width, reaching all the way behind the water stream. There was a very narrow outcropping that formed a path of sorts, and once the cat had a firm enough footing, it released its front claws and landed fully upon the slender strip of rock. It was only then that it turned to look at her again.

Too mesmerized by the sight, Yoruichi didn't pay attention to the climb, moving almost mechanically as she continued to gape at the cat. She heard a snap, and she only had a split second's warning that she had just made a serious error. She felt herself fall back-first, the broken twig clenched tightly in her fist as panic bloomed in the pit of her stomach and spread to every inch of her body lighting fast. Without any conscious thought whatsoever she reached out blindly, hands scraping against the tree bark, desperately searching for something, anything to grab a hold of and stop her fall.

Her aching, bleeding hand suddenly wrapped around something slick and slightly spongy and Yoruichi instantly clenched her fist, reaching out with her other hand to secure a better grip. Her entire body was jerked down violently as she found herself upright again; the vine stretched and tightened upon bearing the full brunt of her weight, and Yoruichi could feel the constant friction set her palms aflame as she clamped down, fighting against the slippery vine.

By the time she came to a stop, she had wrapped herself entirely around the vine, her throbbing hands and whole body shaking at the rush of adrenaline. Her heart hammering in her chest, Yoruichi chanced a glance upward in search of the cat, but found its essence had already disappeared from the vicinity.

.

APRIL 13TH, 129 B.H.I., WOMEN'S DORMITORIES, SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS

.

Yoruichi was grateful for waking up to an empty dorm; having to excuse her mounting anger and frustration to a bewildered Rei was not something she thought she could pull off without biting her roommate's head off.

Feeling very much like a caged animal, Yoruichi wasted little time indoors and hastily pulled her clothes on, eager for a distraction. She decided upon a walk around campus, avoiding everything and everyone that was likely to become the blameless recipient of her fury. It took nearly an hour of aimless wandering before she felt it was safe to be in the presence of others once again, which was when she decided she might as well dull her senses completely by getting some homework done.

She was on the east wing of the library, perusing the elemental kidō section, when she noticed Kotone, Yōko and Tsubasa sitting behind a desk. Oddly enough, the desk before them was completely empty and instead of studying, they were all staring intently at the person occupying the desk at the front row of the aisle: Kisuke.

There were piles upon piles of books stacked around him, a few of them laid open on the desk, but he currently only had eyes for the one on his lap. Chair balanced on its hind legs as he leaned against the bookcase behind him, he was sitting cross-legged, left hand hovering over the corner of the book, right hand occasionally moving across the page of one of his leather-bound journals. There was a smattering of balled-up pieces of paper scattered around his chair.

Returning the volume back onto the shelf, Yoruichi approached her friends and stared from them, to Kisuke and back again. "Uhh… What are you doing?" she asked them.

"I came here to study and found Kotone stalking him," Yōko said.

"I was not stal—"

"So I asked her what she was doing," Yōko went on. "And she goes Just watch, so I did, and then Tsubasa came and asked us what we were doing and now we're all watching him."

"Watching what?" Yoruichi asked.

"He's been sitting like that for two hours," Kotone said.

"So?"

"No, you don't get it, exactly like that," Yōko said. "Hasn't moved a muscle aside from turning the pages with one hand and taking notes with the other. We've tried calling him, people have come and gone, asking him things, trying to reach around him for books, and he's just completely ignored them, we've been tossing balls of paper at him and he hasn't even flinched. Nada."

So… he's being… Kisuke, Yoruichi thought, but didn't voice the words out loud. Clearly, this was the first time any of them had come across him in his natural habitat.

"It's kind of soporific," Tsubasa said, following the movement of Kisuke's hand as he turned another page. "I'm actually waiting to see what will happen when he's done with the book. Maybe he'll just freeze in place."

Letting out a sigh, Yoruichi shook her head at them. "Let me show you how it's done," she said, and circled around the stack that spread along the aisle, coming up right next to Kisuke's desk on the other side. Though he was clearly blocking out everything in his surroundings, she decided to mask her spiritual pressure significantly, just in case. She was about to crouch down, crawl under the desk and yank on one of the chair's legs, when he unexpectedly looked up, beaming at her.

"I figured it out!" he said, pushing his chair back on all four legs and tossing the book onto the desk.

Yoruichi didn't know whether to smile back at him or give him a sharp whack. Ugh, you idiot… You have no idea what you've just done, do you? She didn't dare glance back at the girls just yet, Kotone in particular, but she knew they were all watching. Forcing a grin on her lips, she placed her hands against the desk, looking at him over the wall of books.

"How to build a book fort?" she said.

"How to fix Fleshy!" Kisuke said. "Poor show of trying to sneak up on me, by the way," he said, giving her a smug grin.

She tried very hard to stay frustrated with him, but it was near impossible when witnessing this return to his usual self after a particularly trying semester. It was a joy to see him throw himself into one of his puzzles again, and she was glad to know that the circles under his eyes, an indication he was back to his typical, erratic sleep patterns, were the result of being knee-deep into one of his projects and not insomnia brought on by grief.

"Congratulations," Yoruichi said, caving in and smiling at him. "And uhh… your girlfriend's here," she said, motioning toward the back.

"So it turns out the core was malfun—" Kisuke began, but came to a stop upon fully comprehending her words. He looked toward the desk a couple of rows down and grinned at the girls, waving and beckoning them over.

A fleeting look toward them as they approached told Yoruichi all she needed to know; though Kotone was actively trying to hide it behind a put-upon grin, there was a tightness in her expression.

"Nice to see you're back with us, Urahara," Tsubasa said.

"Sorry," Kisuke said, directing a warm grin Kotone's way. "I get a little wrapped up in my head sometimes… Nothing else really registers."

Kotone's eyes flitted over to Yoruichi for a fraction of a second before settling back to Kisuke again. "That's okay. What were you reading?" she asked him.

As Kisuke launched into an explanation about the malfunctioning elements of Fleshy's core, Kotone took a seat next to him, watching as he pointed in turn at various complicated diagrams in the textbook he'd been reading. Yoruichi motioned at Yōko and Tsubasa to follow her, as she quietly withdrew from sight.

"…it's only a matter of replacing the relevant components, but—" Kisuke was saying, when he looked up to see Yoruichi and her two friends walking away. He gave her a questioning look, but she simply waved at him goodbye, letting him know she was giving him and Kotone some privacy. There's was a brief flash of disappointment in his eyes, but he waved back, then turned to his textbook once more. "But, umm… They're not, er… exactly available in your round-of-the-mill market—"

"So you're researching how to build them on your own?" Yoruichi heard Kotone say as they turned the corner to the next aisle.

Tsubasa and Yōko refrained from commenting on the awkward encounter, and launched instead into a conversation about one of their latest assignments, lamenting the fact that Yoruichi had long ago moved on to an advanced class and couldn't join their project team.

Yoruichi was grateful to them for the change of subject; though the complexities of the dynamics in any group weren't entirely beyond her understanding, she had never felt comfortable under the weight of all the unspoken words that hung in the atmosphere.

She only wished she hadn't just inadvertently driven a wedge between her two friends.

.

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.

MAY 23RD, 129 B.H.I., SHIHŌIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS

.

"Well now… chin up, let me take a good look at you."

Yoruichi straightened her spine, arms clasped behind her back. A pair of sharp, onyx eyes seized her up, identical to her father's. It wasn't often that grandfather Ichiro left the confines of his and grandmother Kaoru's comfortable home for a visit, so she indulged him, recalling that he had seen her last when she had been barely one hundred and twenty. The wizened, balding old man was likely nearing his nine hundredth year of age, but he still stood tall and reasonably spry, making for a dignified sight in his resplendent, dark green kimono.

He took his time observing her, his solemn expression softening little by little the more he saw of her, until his face eventually went into a rarely seen smile. "You should be thanking your lucky stars every day that she took after Hana," he told his son.

Yoruichi's father laughed. "I like to think there is a hint of my blood somewhere in there," he said, gazing fondly at her.

Turning back to her, her grandfather reached for her hand and gave it a gentle pat. "I shall be staying for a few days, so I hope we will have time for a lengthier visit, perhaps tomorrow," he said.

Though his words held no displeasure concerning her presence in the dining hall, Yoruichi understood that she was being dismissed, no doubt meant to join her mother, grandmother Kaoru and her aunts over at the tearoom. Sitting at the table behind them, her uncle Daiki made no effort to hide the smug grin on his lips as he quietly sipped his sake. Yoruichi made a mental note of the fact that her twin male cousins, both almost thirty years younger than her, had not been politely asked to withdraw from the meeting after greeting their grandfather.

"As a matter of fact," her father said, placing both hands on her shoulders as he came to stand behind her. "I intended for Yoruichi to join us today." Upon sight of grandfather's clouding expression, he hurried to elaborate. "After all, given her current progress, it could be that she may be ready to join the Onmitsukidō in less than a year's time. As such, I would like her to start getting acquainted with some of the senior members."

It was quite comical how quickly her grandfather's expression morphed to surprise, his eyebrows shooting upward. He addressed Yoruichi directly. "I was under the impression you had only enrolled in the Academy last year?" he said.

Yoruichi tried not to look smug as she nodded, feeling particularly affectionate for her father at that precise moment: his own spiritual pressure betrayed that he, too, felt a distinct pleasure in her rising above the expectations that had been placed upon her. "That is correct, grandfather," Yoruichi said. "I just entered my second year."

"I suspect she may very well break my feeble record of two and a half years," her father said. "What say you, father? Shall we allow the top Academy student of her class to attend the meeting?"

She half-wished he hadn't mentioned that last part. It might have been a great source of pride, having beaten even Kisuke's scores for the past semester, if only his performance hadn't been so badly affected by personal matters. Still, she had stayed true to her promise to push him to cover for lost time, and in the end, having something to occupy himself with had proven to be as therapeutic as she'd hoped. Even if he'd had to settle for second place.

Her grandfather's eyes darkened for a moment as they strayed toward his son. Yoruichi suspected that he knew her father had only added that second tidbit of information as a subtle dig to his younger brother. Additionally, pretending to ask for permission to allow her to stay had served as a reminder as to who had the final say on the matter; her grandfather had no true authority to forbid her presence and his son had just rubbed his face in it.

It was a very well-executed two-pronged attack, but Yoruichi had always had little patience for her family's tiresome internal conflicts. All the same, she allowed her father to savor this victory, knowing full well that his perceived procreative failures had always been a sore point for him: a sole heir, as opposed to his siblings' numerous children, and a female heir at that. Not for the first time in her life, Yoruichi wondered how different her life might have been if she'd had any siblings, especially brothers.

"I don't see how we could not," her grandfather said, schooling his expression into a more amiable one.

To any onlooker, the following few minutes might have appeared to be a pleasant conversation between family members. However, Yoruichi was under no delusions that her presence hadn't thrown the dynamics of the impending meeting off balance.

Every now and then, the conversation between her grandfather and his two sons concerning the Vault activities would enter a natural pause, which was when the older man would direct a question to one of his three grandchildren. Yoruichi did her best to keep a demure profile for the time being, not wishing to create more tension. Naoki and Takuma, on the other hand, put little to no effort into hiding just how much the proceedings bored them; if they hadn't been trying to take advantage of their father's distraction to sneak some sake into their teacups, she suspected they may very well have fallen asleep.

Tired of watching them hesitate every time there was a clear opening, she finally caved and snatched the bottle for them. Takuma silently gave her a double thumbs-up, his broad grin reaching his eyes, while Naoki started sending her air-kisses in gratitude. Yoruichi rolled her eyes at them even as she grinned, then swiftly returned the stolen bottle at an opportune moment. Little dorks.

Nearly half an hour into their afternoon tea –or rather sake for the adults- the conversation was interrupted by a discreet rap on the door of the dining hall.

"Enter," her father said.

A servant clad in the amethyst robes of the staff stepped inside, going into a low bow. "My Lords, Princess, your guests have arrived."

Sasagawa Mitsuru, Commander of the Onmitsukidō, entered the dining hall, accompanied by his personal guard of four men. Yoruichi recognized one of them as his Vice Commander, and she assumed the other two men were of high rank as well, but it was the fourth person who captured her interest: her cousin Akira.

Tall, broad-shouldered and lean, he had grown a lot in the years since they'd last crossed paths. Though she hated to admit it, he cut a rather imposing figure in his black, finely tailored uniform, his hair short, neat and swept back. Akira, like his two brothers Naoki and Takuma, had inherited the trademark Shihōin dark hair and eyes from his father, and when clad in the Onmitsukidō black, he was the very picture of what a Shihōin heir was meant to be. Part of her had been surprised he hadn't joined his father and brothers for this meeting earlier on, but now she could see why. Apparently, despite his relatively low rank, Akira was part of Sasagawa's inner circle.

Sasagawa and his men greeted both Yoruichi's father and grandfather first, turning to her uncle Daiki next. Sasagawa in particular saluted her uncle with the utmost respect; no doubt he had once served under him before the latter's untimely retirement.

"Princess, how delightful to be in your presence again," Sasagawa said, bowing before her. Yoruichi returned the greeting. "To hear some of my acquaintances in the Academy speak of your accomplishments, I am starting to fear we might lose you to one of the Divisions come next year. No doubt many will fight tooth and nail to have you join their ranks upon graduation."

"I assure you, Commander, I have no such plans," Yoruichi said, her eyes flitting over to Akira for a moment; Sasagawa's comment had drawn his attention and he appeared to be listening in on the conversation while keeping a polite distance.

"That is good to know. Am I to understand you will be attending this meeting, as well?"

"I am, indeed."

"Splendid," the Commander said, smiling broadly, then extended his hand toward the table. "Shall we get started?"

Though she had been encouraged to voice her opinion, Yoruichi followed her father's earlier advice and remained silent during the meal, concentrating instead on observing everyone present. "There is a lot to be gained by simply watching how people interact," he had told her time and time again.

For people like her father and Kisuke, who enjoyed surprising others but detested being the recipients of unexpected developments, prior knowledge was a necessity. They were collectors of information, masters at compartmentalizing data into neat little mental cabinets that could be accessed at the opportune moment. Where others would execute a task in three steps, they delighted in proving it could be done in a single, elegant step, the crystallization of processing and reflecting upon the assembled information.

Though she never underestimated the value of a solid opening strategy, Yoruichi had always been someone who learned by experience. Stepping into her father's shoes, if only for an evening, was an interesting, but slightly overwhelming experience. Some observations were easy to make: Akira's intense desire to be seen as valuable and indispensable, her grandfather's tedium when it came to all fiscal matters, such as the budgetary concerns the Commander was updating her father upon. Other behaviors were far more difficult to decode, such as the very delicate balance Sasagawa maintained in between exerting his power as Commander while trying to be respectful of her family's authority. It was difficult to tell whether he genuinely sought their counsel or if he had called this meeting as a mere formality.

"The realm has grown soft, my Lord," Sasagawa was saying to her father, once the more mundane matters had been discussed and dealt with. "Far too soft when it comes to dealing with our enemies."

"I would think, Commander, that none of us wishes for Soul Society to return to the more barbaric practices of old," her father said. "There are far more civilized ways to deal with enemies than what I hear whispered in the corridors of the Diet building," he said, his lips curling in distaste as he uttered those last words, like he was recalling a particularly foul memory.

"With all due respect, Lord Shihōin, when said enemies cross certain lines, forgetting that it is only due to our generosity that they have even survived, I am not so inclined to be charitable," Sasagawa said. "Unless I am mistaken, your own daughter was a victim of the most recent Quincy attack?"

Yoruichi paused mid-chew, feeling all eyes in the dining hall instantly shift to her. In a poised, dainty maneuver that would have made her mother tear up with pride, she gently patted her mouth with her napkin, then slowly set down her chopsticks, turning to the Commander. "I came out relatively unscathed. I would consider it somewhat of an exaggeration, calling myself a victim," she said.

"My humble apologies; I meant no offense—"

"No offense taken, Commander Sasagawa," she said.

"But there were casualties?" Sasagawa asked.

"One," Yoruichi replied. "The third seat officer of the Fifth Division. He fell protecting a group of my classmates."

"Some of whom came dangerously close to death themselves, my sources informed me."

Yoruichi was thankful that the table served to conceal her hands, which now shook upon her lap; Sasagawa's tactless prodding had unearthed memories she had been struggling to bury for months now.

Rei being carried away on a gurney, her skin deathly pale; Tsubasa risking her life to call for help and reaching them when she was nearing exhaustion; Kotone and Yoshida pouring their own life-force into Rei until they had no more to give.

And Kisuke, body laid out on the banks of the lake, his arms blackened and burnt, blood seeping out into crimson flowers in the freezing waters, his lips parted as his breath— "Yes," Yoruichi said, her jaw set, her fingers digging into her thighs. "That is true." A few seats away from Sasagawa, she could see her father watching her with a slightly pained expression in his eyes, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his cup tightly.

Sasagawa gave her a sympathetic nod, then turned to her father again. "An unprovoked attack that resulted in the death of an officer, could have very well cost the lives of innocent students, and the Thirteen Divisions insist on negotiations?" Sasagawa said. "It's no wonder the Quincies have grown so bold; there are no true consequences to their actions."

As much as she resented the man for cruelly forcing her to relive what was likely the worst moment of her life, she couldn't help but agree with him.

Yoruichi's father tore his gaze away from her and turned back to Sasagawa. "All Material World matters fall entirely under the Thirteen's jurisdiction; I do not see how they might relate to the Onmitsukidō."

"The Thirteen Divisions are meant to be a sophisticated organization. And yet there is no method to separate the wheat from the chaff, no way to ascertain nonconformist elements don't find their way in," Commander Sasagawa said. "They value strength in whichever shape or form it presents itself, and this influx of unscreened talent has led to severe inconsistencies when it comes to adhering to the organization's moral code."

Her father watched Sasagawa in silence, his blank expression giving no indications as to whether he agreed or disagreed with the man.

"As the Onmitsukidō, we may have no say in the Thirteen's dealings with the Material World, but when the results of their decisions affect the realm, do we not have a responsibility to act?" Sasagawa went on. "My Lord, your opinion carries a great amount of weight in Soul Society. I understand that there are many within the Thirteen's ranks you hold in high esteem, which is precisely why I wanted to bring this matter to your attention. As the realm's protectors of peace, I believe we can aid the commendable work performed by the many fine men and women of the Thirteen."

"Aid them," her father repeated. "By removing said nonconformist elements, one would presume?"

"That much falls within our purview, does it not?" Sasagawa said. "There are many among the Central 46 who would support such an amendment. My concern is that the Thirteen might see this as an imposition—"

"Something you were hoping would be countered by my influence," her father finished for him.

"Assuming you share my viewpoint, that was my hope indeed, my Lord," Sasagawa said.

Her father set his hands upon the table, bringing his fingertips together as he scowled, deep in thought. If there was one person's behavior which could, at times, be a perfectly inscrutable mask, it was her father's, Yoruichi thought. Shihōin Ken'ichi never allowed his enemies nor his allies to discern more than he wished to share with the world, and years of observation had given Yoruichi only the barest advantage over those not quite so familiar with her father's expressions and mannerisms. One thing she was surprised to see, however, was the slight edge of anger that flashed through his eyes for a moment. Much to her surprise, when he spoke next, he addressed Akira.

"Akira, my boy," he said genially. "Would you be so kind as to escort your cousin and brothers to their quarters? The hour is growing late, and our meeting is almost over."

Hard though she tried not to allow anger and disappointment to flood her face, Yoruichi failed. What was the point in allowing her to attend the meeting if he was still going to treat her like a child, she wondered? What did he have to say to Sasagawa that he refused to say before her? To add insult to injury, he had asked Akira, of all people, to escort her back to her room. Did he not trust her to follow his bidding?

"Of course, uncle," Akira said, quickly masking his own disappointment behind a façade of compliance.

Naoki and Takuma didn't even bother with any pretext; as soon as they were led outside the dining hall, they began complaining non-stop. Yoruichi knew they couldn't care less about the meeting itself, but were outraged at the imposed curfew. Akira chided his brothers into silence not long after the first few protests, and they kept giving him withering stares right up until they slammed the door to their room in his face.

The walk over to Yoruichi's apartment was a much different affair. The awkward silence stretched on and on; neither pretended to be interested in the other's affairs, but Yoruichi was still seething at her father's decision to have Akira chaperone her back to her apartment. She was about to let Akira know she was perfectly capable of finding her own way back when he spoke.

"It is true? You fought a Quincy?" he asked.

I didn't fight him, I kicked his ass in ten seconds flat and would've finished the job if we'd had more intel. Jealous? "Yes."

Akira nodded, folding his hands behind his back. "Well, the Commander is correct in saying that they have grown too bold, I suppose."

"He is correct about a great deal more," Yoruichi said.

"You agree, then? That the Onmitsukidō should have a bigger say in the realm's internal affairs?"

Despite her anger at him, all Yoruichi had been able to think about ever since the Commander's suggestion back at the meeting, were her father's past words:

"That is the price of leadership: you will not always be loved, you may very well be hated, but every action, every choice, every decision you ever make will be for the benefit of this world."

She had no intention of explaining to Akira, or anyone who hadn't experienced something similar, what it felt like to be haunted by visions of her friends at death's door, what it felt like to think, even for a second, that the life of someone dear to her had ended. As far as she was concerned, the choice between an unpopular reform and the deaths of innocents was an easy one.

"Many of my friends nearly died in that ambush," she said, turning to Akira.

She expected him to scoff at her, to try and cheapen her experience even if he ultimately agreed with his superior, but all Akira said was, "I understand." It was only when he came to a stop that Yoruichi realized they had reached her apartment; he gave her one last nod in farewell, turning his heel and walking away.

Yoruichi watched him go as Sakumo held the doors open for her, her brows coming together. Unless she was very much mistaken, they had just had an actual –albeit brief, civil conversation.

If she were anyone else, Yoruichi might have been pleasantly surprised at the shift in their relationship. Instead, all she could do was wonder whether they had both just become players in their family's intricate game, or if they were still little but pawns with delusions of grandeur.

.

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.

JULY 16TH, 129 B.H.I., UCHIDA'S TAVERN, 5TH DISCTRICT, SOUTHEAST RUKONGAI

.

"Here's to… one third of the way done and over with," Harada said, holding up his glass of sake to the crowd.

"A quarter of the way done," Kotone said.

"Let this— Hmmm?"

"Six years, twelve semesters. Three is one quarter of twelve, not one third."

Harada narrowed his eyes at her, glass still held aloft, then he turned to Kisuke. "Kisuke, control your woman," he said.

Kisuke chuckled at that, letting out a shrug. "She is right. And technically, it's not even the end of the third semester; we still have exams on September."

"Anyway," Harada said, very deliberately turning his back to Kisuke and Kotone, facing the rest of them once more. "Happy summer, everyone!"

Yoruichi raised her glass along the rest of her classmates, her voice drowning in the clamor of the collective Hear, hear. With classes having officially ended just the other day, there had been a consensus among their group that the beginning of summer vacation was cause for celebration. An excursion to Rukongai had been a given, since the majority of their number –though still underage- were eager for a taste of sake. Yoruichi had briefly considered leading the group to Okada's, easily the best tavern in the five-district area, but neither she nor Kisuke had made the suggestion out loud, even without ever agreeing upon it beforehand; Okada's tavern was their hangout, and inviting their classmates along felt oddly wrong.

With a group as large as theirs, small cliques inevitably formed once they had been seated at the long table. Yoruichi sat sandwiched between Yoshida Norio and Rei, with Yōko, Tsubasa and Haruna sitting right across them at the middle of the table. Norio and his crowd occupied the lower half, while Yoruichi's other two friends, Kotone and Ami sat by the top, next to Kisuke and Fujita respectively. Yoruichi could only laugh at the utter discomfort obvious in Kisuke's whole body for being seated at the dreaded couples section. Thankfully, Harada was also there to help him feel more at ease.

Harada took his seat at the very top of the table after downing his glass. The moment he did, Yōko pretended to address the group at large, making certain her voice was loud enough to carry over the ambient din in the tavern.

"Considering none of us really share all our classes, shouldn't we recalculate the percentages accordingly?" she said. "There's Kotone, who'll probably be done in about three years total—"

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, I WAS JUST MAKING A GENERAL STATEMENT—"

"So that's…" Yōko went on, talking over the chuckles and titters her comment elicited. "Half way done? Yes. Then there's this monster over here," she said, pointing at Yoruichi. "For all I know she's graduating come September."

Yoruichi rolled her eyes at Yōko's exaggeration, a slightly pleased smile crossing her lips nonetheless. "I'm not quite done yet," she said. "More like…" She sought Kisuke's eyes for confirmation. "Three quarters done?"

Across the table, Kisuke nodded at her. "Or perhaps even five sevenths, going by Harada's calculations," he said.

"Oh screw you, Mr. Math," Harada said, flipping his middle finger at Kisuke.

"Wait, so you've only got one semester left?" Kotone asked, turning to Kisuke. She seemed to be torn between disappointment and awe.

"Well…" Kisuke said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Assuming I pass everything on September… There's still a fair amount of classes left, but it's… doable. We'll see."

Yoruichi knew all this alleged indecisiveness was a front he put up only for Kotone's sake, and was also perhaps an attempt to appear humble before their classmates. Short of any unexpected catastrophe, there was no doubt whatsoever they would be graduating next April.

"Freaks, the both of you," Harada said with an affected shudder.

Conversation inevitably shifted to classes for the next few minutes until Yoruichi put an end to it, reminding everyone that they had come there to enjoy themselves and forget about their workload for a night, a statement that was greeted with many cheers.

Yoshida Norio went about refilling the glasses that had been emptied after the toast, and as he held the pitcher over Yoruichi's half-empty glass, she placed a hand over it and shook her head; nursing even a single cup over the course of the night was already going to be a supererogation on her part.

"None for you, Lady Yoruichi?" Norio asked.

"Norio, I've asked you to stop calling me Lady Yoruichi about a thousand times," she said, gently rolling her eyes at him. She had often found, over the course of her schooling, that those belonging in minor noble families such as the Yoshidas were often the ones having the most trouble dropping the honorifics, as opposed to the highborn or commoners.

Surely enough, Norio's cheeks reddened a touch in embarrassment. "I apologize. It is not often that someone of your station is so… well…"

"Unsophisticated?"

"Approachable, is more along the lines of what I was thinking," he said, smiling at her as he set the pitcher down.

"…since when has their judgment ever been sound?"

Yoruichi blinked at the sudden, extraneous contribution to the discussion and looked up, her eyes sweeping over everyone in Yoshida's vicinity. She could have sworn the voice she'd just heard belonged to Harada, but seeing as he was currently engaged in a discreet, nearly whispered conversation with Kisuke, it certainly couldn't be him she'd just overheard. Deciding not to dwell on it, Yoruichi shifted her attention to Tsubasa and Haruna's argument over which one of their guest lecturers from the Thirteen had been the most intimidating.

"Are you kidding me?" Yōko said. "How can it not be the Captain Commander?"

"Yamamoto is plenty daunting, I'll give you that," Tsubasa said. "But you weren't there, you didn't feel that… aura," she said, nearly downing the full contents of her glass.

"Seriously? You're going with Captain Unohana?" Haruna said in disbelief.

"Yes," Tsubasa said as a haunted look permeated her eyes. "But I don't know why."

"…damn streets rats going through my garbage one more time…"

There it was again. Like a prey animal startled by the sound of rustling, Yoruichi looked up, trying to locate the source of the voice. This time, the timbre hadn't resembled Harada's in the least, or anyone she was even remotely familiar with. Brow furrowed, Yoruichi's eyes went over the surrounding tables one by one, as she tried in vain to discern individual voices over the collective, incoherent buzzing in the tavern. It was useless; she could hardly even make out what her peers were saying over at the head of the table.

"Yoruichi?"

Turning toward her caller, still a little disoriented, Yoruichi found Tsubasa eyeing her with worry.

"Are you all right?" Tsubasa said.

"Fine," Yoruichi said, jerking her head gently in a pacifying motion.

"Are you sure? You've gone a little… white," Yōko said.

"I'm fi—" Even as she began forming the words, Yoruichi picked up yet another sound that didn't belong, another voice she didn't recognize, and unbidden, her eyes instantly sought out the source. What the hell is going on?

"Here, let me pour you some water," Norio offered, pushing a glass toward her slack hand.

Yoruichi muttered a quick thank you and downed the glass at once, a chill running down her spine. As Norio gave her another refill and her friends went about inquiring into her well-being, she caught Kisuke staring at her, ignoring whatever it was Fujita was talking to him about. "You okay?" he mouthed at her, his own expression one of moderate concern.

Yoruichi nodded at him, then turned to the people in her vicinity who were making a fuss over her. She assured them all that she was perfectly fine, only suffering from some momentary light-headedness that was now gone. If they were skeptical of her excuse they didn't show it, and they returned to their previous conversation. To her frustration, Norio now appeared to be dividing his time between following the two conversations on either side of him and keeping a watchful eye on her. It was a kind gesture, but she wasn't in need of mollycoddling and she told him as much, proposing that his time might be better spent actually engaging her in conversation instead of silent scrutiny. Norio looked a little taken aback at the blatant suggestion at first, but he decided to heed her advice and soon became far more pleasant company than he had been just a moment ago.

It was during Norio's recounting of a particularly amusing anecdote that Yoruichi turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of Kisuke averting his gaze from her. Ugh, honestly, what is it with men? None of her female friends had made such a big deal out of the odd incident, she mused, already starting to get worked up, before noticing something peculiar: when Kisuke shifted his attention back to Harada, though he feigned nonchalance quite well, there was an edge of hardness in his eyes, a faint stiffness in his movements. Even more tellingly, she could see that he was absently toying with the errant little fringe of his hair, a habit he had taken up in recent months whenever he felt upset, and a tell-tale sign that he was only giving off the impression of paying attention.

As she stole her own fair share of glances his way for the next hour or so, she saw that his discomfort never disappeared, not even when he and Kotone retired for the night, their hands linked together as they said their goodbyes and left Uchida's.

Yoruichi made a very honest effort to enjoy the rest of her night, all the while lamenting the fact that every single aspect of her life had lately become so unbearably complicated. If there was some solace to be found, it was in Norio's continued chatter. Taking a leaf out of Kisuke's book, Yoruichi observed him without truly listening, enjoying the sight of the earnest smile that reached all the way up to his green eyes. For all his occasional, mild boastfulness, he was a pleasant, singularly uncomplicated person, easy to read and the diametrical opposite of mercurial.

So later, when he asked to escort her back to the estate, she didn't refuse, nor did she shy away when he kissed her under cover of a cherry tree shortly after they exchanged goodnights. For the few, joyful minutes it took her to reach her room, she entertained the delusion that his presence in her life would inject it with some much-needed simplicity.

The illusion didn't last long, and after fighting with her bed sheets for the better part of two hours, she stopped lying to herself and instead retreated to the one place where she could always count on things being simple, uncomplicated.

The jungle greeted her like an old friend, and as she kicked her sandals off she broke into a run, finding comfort in the feel of the soft, wet earth, the rhythmic crackling of the bamboo, the song of the nightingale. The eyes she had once not trusted to guide her through the forest at night now had little trouble adjusting to the limited light: she glided through trees, leapt over boulders, slid down the surface of moss-covered logs, the weight of her worries lifting off her shoulders as she pushed herself to go faster, jump higher, travel deeper into the forest.

Lurking somewhere in the shadows, she could feel it, the cat's presence; she knew she was being watched. And it was then that she realized where her thundering footsteps had been subconsciously leading her to. Through the forest, into the warm pool, up the waterfall and past the rock bed, never stopping, never catching her breath, the cat now hot on her heels.

The small, impossibly agile creature sprinted on ahead, and Yoruichi didn't pause for a single beat as she followed it around the rock bed and up the tall tree. She could feel its heartbeat in sync with hers as she braved the difficult climb, the cat giving her soft little mewls in support, its long tail quivering in excitement. Almost there, almost there… Every muscle in her body was aching, rivulets of sweat trickling down her back with the effort it took to keep moving.

She breathed through the pain, her eyes focused straight ahead toward the top, but her frustration at the slow pace was escalating. When her tunic got caught at a wayward twig and nearly through her off balance, she let out a growl, having had enough of this. Tightening the grip of her thighs around the trunk, Yoruichi released her hold on the tree and reached for one of the vines cascading past her: it would never hold her weight for the entire climb, but it was perfectly adequate for what she had in mind. Tying the end of the vine around her midsection, she was finally able to free her hands. She wasted no time on a break, and instead tugged at her top impatiently, tossing it without a second thought. Her hakama were a little trickier to remove, but it was only when she was well and truly naked that she pressed on ahead, completely free and unencumbered.

The cat reached the top first, and this time, Yoruichi's vantage point allowed her to see that the narrow path upon the face of the cliff led into a small cave hidden behind the curtain of roaring water. In an acrobatic move even move elegant and impressive than the first time she'd seen it do this, the cat landed on the rock outcropping, trotting on ahead to make room for her.

Her entire body wrapped around a sturdy branch, Yoruichi felt a smidgen of hesitation for the first time that night. There was no turning back now, she was fully committed to taking the last step, but she allowed herself just a second's pause as she found her courage and untangled herself. With a sharp swing of her legs, she began to gather momentum, swaying back and forth until she held her breath and released her grip. For a brief, joyous moment she was weightless, a swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach as she flew forward. Such was her euphoria, that crashing against the harsh, rock surface didn't even phase her.

Not stopping to marvel at her accomplishment, she urged herself to keep moving, to reach firm ground before another unexpected mishap might set back her progress once again. Hugging the rock, she stepped carefully across the narrow path, paying extra care into her footing as she neared the waterfall, wary of the possibly slippery rock. Before she knew it, she was there, she had made it, and all the adrenaline in her body seemed to withdraw at once, her legs adopting the consistency of gelatin and sending her tumbling down onto the floor of the dank cavern.

There was little time to register the pain in her knees as they hit rock, because the creature was suddenly there, literally pouncing upon her. Yoruichi let out a faint yelp, rolling onto her back as the energetic little ball of fluff assaulted her with enthusiastic licks and nuzzles. She could do little but laugh, her fingers digging into the cat's soft, warm fur as it set about grooming her with its abrasive pink tongue, its tail swinging about in a frenzy.

Though the cavern was bare and humble, it had a soothing, familiar feel about it, as though her very own spiritual essence was infused in every grain of rock, every droplet of water. The warm little body in her arms embraced hers with pure, unadulterated joy, and it was there, in the heart of the jungle, that two identical pairs of golden eyes met once more, no longer guarded or frightened.

Yoruichi closed her eyes, a broad smile on her face as she cupped the creature's snout, their foreheads touching together.

"Hello, Maya."

.

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.

JULY 24TH, 129 B.H.I., URAHARA RESIDENCE, 2ND DISCTRICT, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI

.

"Hhhnnnnnghhhh…"

"Hmmmhhhh…"

"Kis'ke?"

"Hn?"

"S'my turn."

"My minute isn't up yet," Kisuke said.

"It is by my count," Yoruichi said, nudging his thigh with her foot. "Gimme."

"I have … seven fans scattered around the house. You're free to pick whichever one you like."

"Yeaaaah, I'm not moving. Now gimme," she said, nudging him once more, harder this time around.

With a sigh, Kisuke gave the white fan in his hand a sharp flick until it folded unto itself. He didn't bother moving an inch from his comfortable position out on the deck –perfect shade coverage plus a mild breeze current- and simply tossed the fan her way. He hadn't really been aiming anywhere in particular, but he couldn't deny he derived a smidgen of pleasure from the indignant yelp she emitted when the fan landed on top of her distended belly.

"I would so make you pay for that if I could get up," she growled, trying to land a kick again.

"It was an accident," Kisuke said with a chuckle, moving his lower half just out of reach.

"Accident, my ass," Yoruichi muttered, giving up on retaliation with a huff. She slipped the fan open and went about trying to cool herself, as she lay supine across the deck.

Kisuke closed his eyes, head leaning back against the wall as his legs swung off the edge of the deck. On any other day, when his stomach didn't feel like it was about to burst and when it weren't so unbearably hot, this would make for a prime napping spot, he mused.

"I've been meaning to ask," Yoruichi said. Kisuke cracked one eye open and saw her running her fingertips across the polished wood, her eyes only half open. "Did you do something to the deck? It feels different."

"A bit of sanding. Fresh coat of paint, too."

"No kidding…" she said, her gaze traveling over the canopy, a lazy smile on her lips. "This place is really starting to come together."

Though it was still a work in progress, Kisuke was in full agreement with her assessment. So far, hadn't been able to devote a lot of time to sprucing up his new home, making small changes on the odd weekend here and there, but now that school was out for summer, he had been working almost non-stop. Most of the furniture up in the old attic had been too far gone to use, but a few pieces had turned out to be salvageable. The rest he'd had to purchase bit by bit, and though he still had a long way to go, the cottage was starting to resemble a home, indeed.

The bedroom upstairs had received little attention other than some cleaning: he was perfectly content with sleeping on a simple futon, so he had only bothered with repairing the closet. The washroom and kitchen were both fully operational, though the latter lacked a great number of essentials, but as Yoruichi had pointed out when she'd showed up with lunch earlier on, he probably wouldn't be needing more than plates, glasses and utensils anyway. Still, it wouldn't be a bad idea to stock the pantry at the very least; the sight of rows upon rows of nearly empty shelves was a little depressing, especially since he'd spent so many hours sanding the damn things. He had done a fair amount of work on the living room, which was now equipped with a set of new tatami mats and pillows, a small table and a fully refurbished fire pit.

But it was the study he had poured most of his efforts into, his pride and joy. The shiny new desk and comfortable chair on the left hand side had cost him a fair bit, but they'd been worth every kan. He had outfitted the walls with nothing but shelves, and though he had only managed to fill about a third of the available space, he hoped to one day see every single one lined with books. One the right hand side, he had built a sturdy slab for Fleshy –"You made that thing a bed?"- and filled the other corner with workbenches. It was the equipment that had turned out to be the biggest expense: beakers, test tubes, burners, thermometers, various tools and especially materials.

For the time being, the study was more than adequate in terms of fulfilling its purpose, so he had decided to spend the rest of his vacation focusing on a few more urgent repairs, like finally getting around to building a shed out in the patio to replace the attic he was now using as a bedroom.

"Don't sound so surprised," Kisuke told Yoruichi with a grin, upon her remark that he had gotten a fair amount of work done.

"I'm not surprised you're handy; I'm surprised you stuck to your decision," Yoruichi said, tucking her free arm under her head as she continued to gently swing the fan before her chest. Her one minute was long ago over, but Kisuke didn't bother asking for the fan back. "No regrets there?"

She had tried to broach the subject many times since February, and every time, it seemed to amaze her that he hadn't regretted leaving the Urahara clan. He supposed it wasn't an entirely unfair question, given the emotional upheaval that had come with his mother's death, and the time it had taken him to come to terms with it.

Kūkaku had warned him from the start that it was a long process, and a far from linear one at that. He had been so young when his father had passed away, that his absence from Kisuke's life had almost always been a constant in his life. Losing his mother, on the other hand, had thrown him into a state of emotional toddlerhood, where he had to learn how to exist in a world which didn't include her anymore. Some days would pass by without his mind ever wandering to her; some days he would misspeak, or even make a mental note of asking her opinion on something before realizing he could not; other days, he could bring up her memory and simply smile. Though the majority of his days weren't of the latter type, they were starting to get more and more common.

Even so, in all the time he had spent agonizing about how he might have been a better son, or over a million different regrets he had concerning his mother, his choice to leave the Urahara clan had not once been called into question.

"I told you it was a sober decision," he told Yoruichi, unable to help but grin a little smugly. "I'll admit, I probably would have waited a little longer if my mother hadn't died, but if anything, it's made me even more convinced it was the right thing to do."

"How so?"

Hand rubbing the back of his neck, Kisuke hesitated a little. He hadn't meant to blurt out that last part: it was something that had occurred to him on a sleepless night a while ago, but he'd never spoken of it, worried it would make little sense to anyone other than him. "I, umm… See, the thing about my clan is that my grandfather is still pretty much the head of the family," he said. "In the sense that his thoughts and opinions set the tone for everyone else. He disliked my mom, but he still loved his son, even after he chose to come live here with her," he went on.

"He never blamed him for anything, never held a grudge. I don't think he actually ever hated my mom until dad died. Maybe even felt she didn't try hard enough to save him, I don't know… The point is that I turned out looking very much like my father, but almost nothing like him in character. Too much like my mom. And I think that messed them up, you know? They weren't the most pleasant people to begin with, but the pain made them really bitter. And I… I sort of get it now, blaming everyone and everything under the sun, because most deaths are just so random and senseless, that people often need to find some meaning behind it all. So, in a way, losing mom helped me understand them a little. Is that… is it too weird? I don't know if—"

"It's not weird," Yoruichi said, holding his gaze.

It was the calmness and understanding in her eyes that gave him the courage to continue. "After the funeral, I realized that this whole situation was just too toxic for everyone. For them, for me… and if it hadn't changed in a hundred and seventy years, it certainly wasn't going to change now," he said. "I decided to just take myself out of the equation. I only kept this house and some of my mom's money. Should be more than enough until graduation. So no, no regrets."

"And in the meantime, you can make some cash on the side," Yoruichi said, a very knowing smirk on her lips. "Say, selling bad cheat sheets to our classmates."

"I resent that, they were all legitimate," Kisuke said, folding his hands on top of his belly. "Yours and mine simply happened to be more, ah… comprehensive. Didn't want to completely mess up the curve."

Yoruichi laughed, stretching her legs once before she folded up her knees. "Well, at any rate, the house really is looking great," she said.

Kisuke was glad to see that she was no longer going to be pressing the issue of his possible reconciliation with his clan. She seemed to have understood that despite the fact that it had been made under an emotionally compromised state, his decision had eventually worked out for the best, for all concerned parties.

"Except for this," Yoruichi went on, gesturing toward the garden in distaste. "Seriously, it's summer already. Take the plunge, or it's going to swallow up the house in a few months."

For all her hyperbole, Kisuke was beginning to think that perhaps she had a point. If there was one area of the property that had been left completely untouched it was the back garden, which, after a particularly rainy spring, was starting to get slightly out of control. The stalks of grass now reached well past his knee and the various bushes had grown to the size of small trees. Despite deceiving appearances, however, Project Jungle was already under way.

"I'm getting around to it," he said.

"There are things crawling out there," Yoruichi said. "I swear I saw something grey streak past the grass just a few minutes ago."

"Oh, that would be the kittens."

"The what now?"

"Kittens. Grown cats, too, I suppose. Neighborhood strays."

Pushing herself up off the deck, Yoruichi gave him a disparaging scowl. "Oh, what did you do?"

"There… may be bite-sized chicken pieces scattered across the garden."

"…Oh gods, you're trying to tame them."

All right, so perhaps that was a possible bonus fifth step in his four-step plan, but she had otherwise missed the mark entirely. "Actually, I'm trying to get that mess cleared out," he said, pointing toward the garden. "And I figured, hey, stray cats are hungry, cats are great with all kinds of vermin, I have food and a bug-infested garden… win-win. Plus, they make for a fascinating object of study."

"That is the biggest, fattest lie—"

"They do!" Kisuke said in protest.

"You already have an object of study. Haven't you been working on Fleshy for months now?"

Fleshy had become an invaluable distraction in the days since moving in his new home. Aside from his existing fascination with gigai mechanics, Kisuke had found himself tinkering with the synthetic body more and more often, as it was the only type of intricate work that kept his mind well and truly occupied. On particularly difficult days, days when his mother's ghost haunted his every step, nothing else proved to be distracting enough to keep him from plunging head-first into despair.

It wasn't a particularly healthy way of dealing with his grief, he understood as much, but there was no denying it had worked. Kisuke had returned to that tried and tested method repeatedly, when faced with some of the more unpleasant recent developments in his life, such the situation developing between Yoruichi and Yoshida, and especially the end to a relationship which had come about as swiftly and unexpectedly as it had begun.

In the week since ending things with Kaneko, Kisuke had been a little surprised to catch himself actually missing her every now and then. With the Fleshy project currently on brief hiatus, he had wracked his brains for a replacement, lest he exercise a little too much introspection and start feeling truly guilty for all the ways in which he'd been unfair to his erstwhile girlfriend. As such, his overgrown garden and its various inhabitants had become a lifeline he had latched upon like a madman.

"Been waiting on some parts I had specially ordered," Kisuke said. "In the meantime, I've been observing this litter along with a few others in the vicinity. A few days ago, it occurred to me that I have never seen a male tortoiseshell cat," he said. "Not one. Black and white? Yes. Grey and white? Yes. Any combination of two colors, yes, but never a tri-colored one. So then I started circling the neighborhood, looking for other litters and it's the same all over. But then I also start noticing something else that's interesting. Out of nearly seventy cats I studied, 30% were pure orange tabbies. Out of them, about 70% were males. But pure orange female tabbies? 30% of that, so only 9% of overall population. This doesn't happen with mackerel tabbies, only orange tabbies," he said, pointing his index toward a bewildered-looking Yoruichi and nodding impressively.

"Am I supposed to be—?"

"The orange color!" Kisuke said. "It's the only common denominator in such obvious disparities between the sexes. It has to be linked to gender, somehow."

Yoruichi stared at him for a few seconds in silence, then blinked very slowly. "Okay, so clearly you need help—"

"Numbers don't lie!"

"But you do. And again, this was the most convoluted excuse ever for trying to disguise the fact that you want to tame one of the cats."

He would be lying indeed if he claimed that part of the new project's appeal wasn't the possibility of actually acquiring a pet. "And? What's so wrong with—?"

"You are a Crazy Cat Lady waiting to happen. You won't stop at one kitten and before you know it, there will be an army of cats scratching at your door every day," she said, acting out said scratching. "Swindling you out of what precious little food you eat as it is."

Well, that was unnecessarily blunt, Kisuke thought, pouting. I would've stopped at… four. Maybe.

"So like I said," Yoruichi said. "You need help. And a gardener."

"I still maintain my cat lure is a good idea," he said. "It's only a matter of waiting for the right cat to come along."

Yoruichi gave him an oddly tremulous chuckle at the sound of that and for the remainder of her stay, she didn't bring up the garden again. It might've been his imagination, but it seemed to Kisuke that they were both immensely grateful for the change of subject.

.

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.

AUGUST 5TH, 129 B.H.I., SHIHŌIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS

.

Nuzzling the pillow she had loosely wrapped her arms around, Yoruichi savored the sweet, heady sensation of a semi-conscious state, ignoring Mizuho's efforts to wake her up and get her into a bath.

She had precious few hours to spare on sleep when in school, and with a heavy workload and endless revisions pending, she knew that even her summer vacation wasn't going to be entirely relaxing. Still, she had made a promise to herself that she would at least try to get seven hours of sleep every day, to keep herself from collapsing when she was so close to the finish line.

Despite her original feelings on the matter of an early graduation, the pride in her father's eyes concerning her progress and his constant insinuations that she could very well complete the curriculum on the two-year mark had had a big effect on her outlook. As such, her schedule had rapidly changed from something marginally rational to an exhausting, though challenging timetable, highly reminiscent of her first semester. On top of everything else, she had also struggled to fit a boyfriend –the word still sounded alien to her- somewhere in that whole convoluted mess, but if she were being entirely honest, Norio was the one who was more likely to make time for her instead of the other way around. At any rate, he had yet to complain.

"Come now, my Lady, lest the water start to grow cold," Mizuho said, and rolled the blinds up, allowing the bright morning sun to invade her comfortably dark room.

Yoruichi let out an indignant growl, attempting to yank the slim covers over her head, but Mizuho was prepared for that; it had been their morning routine for so many years, that it was second nature to both of them by now, an annoying, yet comfortingly established ritual. Mizuho grabbed the covers and pulled them off her, immediately letting out a sigh upon sight of her.

"All that beautiful nightwear, and yet you still sleep in the nude," she said.

Yoruichi buried her head beneath the pillow, shying away from the invading light. "It's too hot for clothes. Let me sleep, Mizuho," she said.

"Your Lord father is entertaining councilors of the Central 46 at noon," Mizuho said. "It will not do for the Shihōin heiress to present herself before them unkempt."

Yoruichi let out a sigh of frustration and pulled her head out from under the pillow, pushing the moist hair off her sweaty forehead. Slipping out of the bed, she dragged her feet over to the washroom, Mizuho nagging at her for her choices in sleepwear all the way there.

"Who cares what I wear to sleep?" Yoruichi said a few minutes later, once Mizuho's lecture had reached an end, as she sat on the hinoki stool in the middle of the washroom, the handmaiden scrubbing her back clean.

"It is a matter of adopting good habits, Princess," Mizuho said. "If I may be so bold, your… disdain for finery seems to carry over to your everyday choices in clothing as well."

It wasn't as though she actually objected to the silk and brocade garments. She would have happily worn them if they weren't all so damn constricting. All right, perhaps not happily, but I wouldn't complain as much. Yoruichi let out a soft moan as Mizuho worked out the kinks in her shoulders, then downed a bucket of warm water over her clean body, turning to her hair next. Mizuho didn't once stop talking about the importance of a proper dress code, about how it was the mark of a true lady and, most curiously, about the part clothing played in courtships.

"You are aware that I am already betrothed?" Yoruichi told Mizuho while the latter massaged her scalp. Well. More or less.

When Yoruichi looked over her shoulder at Mizuho, she saw the handmaiden's face visibly cloud at that, her lips pursed. "Yes, well… I do not wish to speak ill of House Shiba; they have long been one of the most influent—" Mizuho said.

"Yes, yes, I won't hold it against you," Yoruichi said impatiently, now wondering what Mizuho was getting at. "Go on, speak freely."

"Well, my Lady, it seems to me that the future consort of someone of your status should show a little more care in his personal choices," Mizuho said. "Honestly, opting to live in Rukongai… I am not insensitive to the fact that his sister has become a dear friend to you, but I do not think this was a match well-made, after all."

Yoruichi's heart fluttered at the revelation. Could it be that dissolving this unofficial engagement might be easier than she had originally thought? "Hmmm… Do you think my parents feel the same way?" Yoruichi cautiously asked.

"I know for a fact that your Lady mother does," Mizuho said.

And that's more than half the battle. Yoruichi's mood improved drastically after that conversation, and she completely surrendered herself to Mizuho's gentle ministrations. The bath turned out to be slightly less warm than she preferred, but she said nothing, knowing that part was her fault for taking so long to get up, and she submerged herself into the tub, closing her eyes. She even indulged Mizuho in vacuous conversation, only now appreciating what a beautiful day it truly was today.

"I thought you might enjoy a little pampering in preparation for this evening, my Lady," Mizuho said. "I could have Tamako come over to treat your hair and nails after your bath."

Oh… why the hell not, Yoruichi thought, resting her arms at the rim of the hinoki tub. It was time for a trim anyway, her hair was getting truly out of control, and though she knew Tamako's fine work would go to waste come Monday morning when classes resumed, getting a manicure had always been one of the more pleasant beauty regimens. "Might as well," Yoruichi said. "Go fetch her— Wait," she said, opening her eyes. "Won't she be busy making up my mother?" she asked. Tamako was, after all, her mother's handmaiden, not hers.

The effect her words had on Mizuho was instant. Her plump face turned momentarily ashen, the pupils of her dark blue eyes visibly dilating. The shift in her expression only lasted for a moment, but it was one moment too long. "Your Lady mother is feeling a little under the weather today," Mizuho said, now back to her genial look. "I do not think she will be attending the lunch."

A sweat broke out on Yoruichi's back, one that had nothing whatsoever to do with the warm bath. "What's wrong with her?" she asked Mizuho.

"Just a touch of indigestion. Dinner last night must have not agreed with her—"

"Nice try: my mother didn't eat last night," Yoruichi said, half-risen out of the tub already. "I was there. If anything, she felt nauseated. What's really wrong with her?"

"My Lady—"

"Mizuho, I swear, you either tell me right now or I'm storming out like this," Yoruichi said, pointing at her nude, dripping self.

Mizuho wringed her hands, clearly uncomfortable discussing this and visibly angry at herself for her blunder. "The important thing is that there is no cause for alarm, Princess," she said. "I have no doubt the court Healer will proclaim her perfectly healthy—"

"Will proclaim her—?" Yoruichi said, her jaw dropping in shock as she put two and two together. "Is that what all this pampering nonsense was about? You wanted to keep me occupied?" Not wasting another second listening to Mizuho's pitiful excuses, Yoruichi climbed out of the tub and grabbed the yellow yukata Mizuho had set out for her, hastily pulling it on along the way as she sped out of the washroom, the handmaiden's imploring cries doing nothing to stop her.

Wrenching the door open, she ignored the odd looks her haphazard appearance attracted from the staff and she thundered down the corridors, leaving a trail of wet footprints in her wake. As she neared her parents' quarters, she could hear the distant, muted sound of some sort of commotion and she doubled her pace, coming to a screeching halt right outside the wide open door to their apartment. The staff were gathered outside by the genkan, the double shōji doors leading into the main rooms drawn shut.

She could see maids coming and going, all of them making an effort to keep their voices quiet as they retrieved and cleaned up an assortment of items: a tray of barely touched food, various bowls and mortars carrying the scent of medicine and, most horrifyingly, a set of bed sheets stained scarlet.

Yoruichi froze upon sight of them, her knees suddenly growing weak, her vision blurring for a moment. Mizuho said she would be fine, she's fine she has to be she can't— Nearly losing her balance, Yoruichi quickly placed a hand against the wall behind her, her head filled with nightmarish scenarios that only got progressively worse. She wanted to dash into the apartment, see her mother with her own eyes, but the fear of what she may find once she did had crippled her completely, rendering her into a quivering mess. Was this how Kisuke had felt, when someone had taken him aside and—?

"Princess?"

Yoruichi felt a gentle hand upon her arm and turned to find Asuka looking at her with concern. The staff must've only just noticed her presence; she could see she was drawing their furtive glances as they went about their duties.

She was suddenly glad for Asuka's presence, a familiar face in a group of inquisitive strangers. Her mother was notorious for her capriciousness when it came to her handmaidens: with the exception of Tamako and Miharu who had been with her for years, all the other women in her service tended to be replaced every few months.

Turning to Asuka with wide, fearful eyes, Yoruichi forced herself to speak. "My mother…"

"It has been a trying day," Asuka said. "But your Lady mother is fine now."

"She— Truly?"

There was a pained look in Asuka's lined face even as she smiled at her warmly, and Yoruichi assumed that she must've been thinking of the late Lady Urahara. She knew that Asuka wouldn't lie to her, not when she had seen what it had done to Kisuke. "Truly. She is a highly resilient woman, if I might say so," Asuka said.

Yoruichi finally found herself able to breathe again, some stability slowly returning to her still trembling limbs. "What happened?" she asked.

There was a hesitant look in Asuka's brown eyes, one that mirrored the expression in Mizuho's when Yoruichi had forced her to tell her the truth. "My Lady… I am not certain it is my place to say…"

"Please?"

Asuka looked over her shoulder at the maids behind her, lips pursed, then turned to her once more. "You Lady mother… she… she was with child. Until this morning, that is," Asuka said. "I'm afraid it just wasn't meant to be. You have my deepest condolences."

For the longest time, Yoruichi was unable to process what Asuka had just told her, staring at the older woman dumbfounded. With child? She didn't know when exactly it was, but at some point once she had reached puberty, she had stopped hoping for any siblings and assumed that her parents, given their age, had also stopped trying. It had never occurred to her that they might still be hopeful for a second heir.

"You needn't worry yourself, Princess," Asuka said. "The healer performed a thorough examination and concluded she is perfectly healthy. She is going to make a full recovery."

Still in a daze, Yoruichi pushed herself off the wall, making vague gestures toward the doors. "I should…"

"Your Lord father is still with her," Asuka said, gently holding her back. "I should warn you, my Lady, she is heavily medicated and very fatigued. Would you like to perhaps retire to your room? I could come for you after she has recuperated so you can visit with her."

Torn between wanting to see for herself that her mother was alright and not wishing to disturb her when she had had such a difficult morning, Yoruichi glanced toward the doors, biting her lip. In the end, the decision was made for her: the shōji were drawn open from the inside and out came her father, looking his usual sober self, though there was a tightness in his lips and a troubled look in his eyes Yoruichi had rarely seen before. While her mother had undoubtedly had the most emotionally fraught day, it only now occurred to Yoruichi that her father must have been distraught as well; he certainly looked it. As soon as his eyes fell on her, he seemed shocked for a second as he took in her appearance.

"Good heavens, Yoruichi. Why are you—?" he said, letting out a sigh and shaking his head. "I told Mizuho to keep you busy—"

"Don't blame this on Mizuho," Yoruichi said, trying to steal glances at the room behind her father's frame. "I weaseled it out of her. How's mother?"

"A little disoriented, but otherwise well," her father said. "Come now, you shouldn't be here. Go back to your—"

"I want to see her!"

"This is not up for discussion. Your mother—"

"Ken'ichi?" came a weakened voice from inside. "It's all right. Let her in."

Her father turned to glance at the room in worry, his jaw set. When he made eye contact with his daughter again, his expression had softened somewhat, though he still appeared to be very displeased with his her for causing a scene. "Do not stay for too long, she needs her rest," he said, then swept past her and out of the apartment, his gait stiff.

Yoruichi spared a quick glance at his departing form, before she stepped into her parents' bedroom, shutting the doors behind her. This morning's events might've never happened, if one were to judge from the state of the room: all medical paraphernalia had been cleared out and the bed sheets her mother now rested upon had been changed. The only marked difference between this day and any other, was the sight of her mother, pale and so very small-looking, lying on her side in the middle of the large bed, her body twisted in a near-fetal position.

As she approached the bed, Yoruichi felt the sudden, inexplicable urge to brush her mother's disheveled hair and bring her something more refined to wear than the loose, purple yukata her handmaidens had wrapped her into.

When Yoruichi took a seat by the side of the bed, her mother slipped her eyes open, letting out a gentle groan. "You're wet," she said weakly, her brow knit. Raising one hand off the mattress, she seemed to be trying to touch one of the long strands of Yoruichi's hair, but missing the mark completely, her fingers touching only air.

Yoruichi reached out to cup her mother's hand in hers; it was cold. "I was taking a bath when— How… how are you feeling?" she asked, her fingers trying to rub some warmth back into her.

"Not unlike I always do," she said, and there was a small, wry grin on her nearly blue lips. "It'll pass."

An involuntary spasm rippled through Yoruichi's hands at her mother's words. She felt more than a little naïve now, to realize that her parents' centuries-long efforts to conceive had not simply been a constant uphill battle with no results, but a journey most likely rife with false alarms and pregnancies that had never reached full term.

Her mother closed her eyes again, a sigh escaping her lips. "I'm sorry."

"What? Mom, you… It's not your fault," Yoruichi said.

"You're fearless," her mother said, her hand slipping out of Yoruichi's grasp to sweep gently against her jawline. "You don't let anyone tell you who you are. I am grateful for that. They just… they expect so much… I wanted to give you someone to share the burden with."

They expect so much…

It had taken her nearly two centuries, but Yoruichi thought she might just be starting to understand her own mother a little better. Somewhere under the stifling gowns, the layers of makeup, the never-ending restrictive diet and acupuncture treatments, the rivers of green tea and the dozens of concoctions that she consumed daily, lay a woman just as tired and bitter at the expectations forced on her as she was. How many times had her mother woken up, broken-hearted and in pain, to the sight of blood-stained sheets? How many times had she forced down bitter extracts of carthamus flower, or angelica root or any one of the many herbs that were ever-present in her medicinal cabinet in the hopes that she would conceive again? How many times had she had to endure the lingering stares and whispers from the elders of the family before she had managed to carry her daughter to term, and how many times since?

Yoruichi couldn't help but wonder what her father's role in all this was. Was all this insanity something he had encouraged as well, or was it simply the result of her mother trying her utmost to be the kind of wife she thought she had to be, the kind of wife expected for a man as powerful as her father?

"Mom…"

"I will keep trying, I promise."

Yoruichi shook her head at her, clasping her hand tightly again. "It's… it's okay if you want to stop. Just… be healthy, okay?"

Her mother nodded weakly, though Yoruichi suspected she hadn't really heard her daughter's words, already half-asleep. Her eyes slipped shut, the hand encased in Yoruichi's palms slackening, and her breathing become even.

Gently, Yoruichi placed her mother's hand down upon the mattress again, then swept the hair away from her forehead as she watched the slow rise and fall of her shoulders while she slept.

She wondered if her mother would remember this conversation tomorrow, when in possession of her full mental capacities. Yoruichi supposed it would be cruel and unfair to hold her to words spoken in a semi-hallucinatory state, but if there was one thing she was certain about, it was that she would never forget them for as long as she lived.

.

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AUGUST 14TH, 129 B.H.I., SHIHŌIN CLAN ANCESTRAL CASTLE, COURT OF PURE SOULS

.

Somewhere out there, woven into the endless song of the cicadas was a sound that didn't belong, a discordant note in the otherwise harmonious nocturnal symphony.

Her fingers laced through the cool grass as she knelt down, and Yoruichi clenched her teeth, her nails digging into the soft earth. It was driving her insane. The odd sound, the mismatched element. For the third night in a row, it had kept her up, familiar and yet unknown, a maddening little earworm that sent her thrashing about the bed, sweaty and delirious with a kind of agony she couldn't name or even come close to identifying.

And all the while, Maya's gentle, coaxing purrs reverberating throughout her body, urging her to… what?

If she wasn't wary of the many estate guards patrolling the grounds she would've screamed in frustration right about now, but she held herself back; the momentary release wasn't worth the apoplectic lecture she would no doubt be subjected to if her parents discovered her out of bed at this hour, weapon strapped to her ankle, half-naked in a loosely-fitting yukata that had all but come completely unraveled while she sprinted across the grounds in a state of near-frenzy.

The sound kept coming and going, a soft, trilling little chirp— A bird, it's a bird, a THRUSH how do I know it's a thrush, why can I- that seemed to be on the move, never settling down –Of course it wouldn't it's a bird it makes sense now.

She felt strong and at the same time completely powerless, her own spiritual pressure going haywire, turning against her as though it was trying to compress her own body into nothing. Her skin ached, a dryness, tautness about it like it was being stretched far too thin and with every beat of the bird's song, the pain grew.

Her mother's words kept echoing in her head –Fearless. You're fearless- and every time they swam into the forefront of her mind, Maya would purr in agreement. Though she had no voice, her soft, cajoling sounds seemed to be telling her to stop being afraid, to let go.

I can't, I can't, it's too much, I—

"…minutes till the end of shift."

Yoruichi's head snapped toward the sound of the voice. Two men, approximately thirty meters to the southwest. She could feel their spiritual pressure, and though she had no doubt of her ability to pinpoint their location, she knew she shouldn't have been able to hear them from such a distance, not when their voices were deliberately kept low. Still, she didn't stop to dwell on the matter, setting off in a sprint and into hiding.

Her normally impressive ability to run in near absolute silence given the proper terrain, seemed to have abandoned her overnight; with every step against the moist grass she would cringe, certain she was about to draw the attention of the entire guard. Only when she had her back flattened against the large maple tree by the shrine did it occur to her that perhaps it was her own sense of hearing that was seriously skewed.

So distracted was she in her rush to hide, as well as the extreme mental effort to block out the sound of the thrush, that she didn't realize she had just made her own situation far worse by choosing to take shelter in a part of the castle that was heavily patrolled. The sky above was perfectly clear and the moon shone bright; all the stealth skills in the world wouldn't be able to keep her hidden now at the first sign of an incoming patrol.

Surely enough, no longer had she finished forming the thought than she heard the sound of distant voices approaching.

Ugh, DAMMIT! How on earth was she going to explain this to anyone without sounding completely mad?

Fingers digging into the bark of the tree, Yoruichi found she had no recourse other than to seek shelter up in the maple and hope no-one spotted her. Quickly she scaled the tree, settling down into a thick, comfortable fork in the densest part of the foliage and tried to make herself as small as she possibly could. As she hugged her knees, her fingers brushed over Maya's blade and she nearly gave out her position; she had been only a split second away from letting out a yelp at the alien sensation, but she was swift in clamping her mouth shut.

Slowly, warily, she reached for the blade once more, fingertips barely scraping against the flat of the blade. The small tantō was vibrating intensely under her touch. Oddly enough, she had felt nothing against her ankle where the weapon was secured, not until she had reached out with her own hand.

A few meters below, a patrol of two men was approaching, and though she had taken care to hide her spiritual pressure, Yoruichi was still worried about discovery, the incessant, infuriating song of the thrush making it difficult to maintain control over her own power. The tantō throbbed harder than ever under her hand, and without any conscious thought, Yoruichi pulled the weapon out of its holster, her eyes slipping shut as she held it out before her, blade pointing down.

"Blend into the shadows, Maya."

Whatever she had imagined might happen when she strung those words together, reality went beyond any expectation. The second she opened her eyes again, Yoruichi watched in horror as her beautiful tantō, her beloved Maya, began to crumble before her very eyes.

From blade to pommel, the entire weapon was reduced to a billion infinitesimal pieces, lighter than dust, white and glittering. She might have screamed if she had been able to summon her voice, but all that escaped her throat was a pitiful, aghast whimper.

"…hear that?"

She didn't even have the presence of mind to react to the approaching guards, far too stunned by the loss of her companion to care about anything else right now. Not even the persistent, firm growls in her head were able to snap her out of her shock, not until the glittering dust began acting very strangely. Instead of getting blown away by the wind, it clung to her forearms, not a single speck escaping as it uniformly coated her skin, glowing brighter.

What…? What on—?

It was only then that she realized Maya's presence was still there, still crooning in her head, calming her down. The second her heart went aflutter with relief, however, Maya wasted no more time coddling her and instead issued what was a clear and urgent warning to run.

Yoruichi didn't stop to question the advice. She didn't think she could have if she'd wanted to; there was something else taking charge inside of her now, something primordial. It was as though the dam she had been fighting tooth and nail to keep intact suddenly collapsed, and out poured a torrent of strange, overwhelming power.

She sprang up on her feet and leapt, feeling inexplicably weightless, and by now a true part of the shadows.

There was a shriek somewhere behind her as she landed effortlessly on the grass and dashed away. And though she shouldn't have been able to hear the conversation taking place so far away while she streaked on ahead, she heard every word as clearly as if she had been physically present.

"Good grief, that thing nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"How did it even get in here?"

"No idea. Still… should be pretty harmless… right?"

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SEPTEMBER 5TH, 129 B.H.I., MEN'S DORMITORIES, SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS

.

Kisuke buried his head under his pillow, trying to block out the grating sound of Fujita singing a slow, melancholy tune at the top of his lungs. Must he do that every damn morning?

"Even in my yearning dreams, the rooster craws at dawn, too soon, too soon…"

Good grief, did someone die?

"Too far apart now, to share as we once did. We met at Letter Pass, does it now stand between us?"

Letting out a grunt in frustration, Kisuke pulled his head out of its hiding place, turning his bleary gaze towards Fujita. "Could you please… not?" he said, voice gravelly from sleep.

"It's eleven o' clock!" Fujita said, checking out his reflection in the mirror hanging off the wall of their shared bedroom. "For heaven's sake, Urahara, other people have already spent half their day outside and you're still sleeping."

Kisuke pulled the covers over his head, ignoring Fujita. His roommate went back to his song, though he was decidedly quieter, Kisuke noted, and continued to get ready for wherever it was he was going. He had never thought he would one day yearn for the Fujita of old, who would've been hauled up in his room ever since returning to school in preparation for the upcoming exams. Apparently, Hasegawa had performed nothing short of a miracle in the months they'd been dating.

Kisuke wasn't planning on moving a muscle before noon today. Weekends in the Academy always seemed to take far too long to arrive and lasted far too little, and it was always a golden opportunity to catch up on some sleep, especially with exams looming so close. It would also have been a good idea to head back home and get some work done on Fleshy, but his futon was proving too irresistible to abandon this morning.

Maybe later. Or even tomorrow.

"I'm surprised you're not out and about with Kotone. Or Yoruichi," Kisuke heard Fujita say.

From beneath the covers, Kisuke slipped one eye open. Though he could detect no meaningful tone or even morbid curiosity in Fujita's voice, Kisuke had to marvel at the man's timing. He couldn't possibly know, could he?

"I'm not meeting up with either of them today," Kisuke said, hoping that answer would prove to be enough for Fujita.

"How come?"

"Tired. Didn't really make plans."

"Well, I'm going out with Ami. If you wanna join us, maybe we could head over to Kotone's and pick her up—"

Oh for crying out— Pulling the covers down, Kisuke cast his bloodshot eyes over at Fujita. Though he was in no mood to prolong the conversation or even share this with him, he supposed it was only a matter of time before he found out. "I'm not seeing Kaneko anymore. So that would probably be a little awkward."

"Oh," Fujita said, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I didn't know."

"That's okay," Kisuke said, laying down on the futon again, hoping he could finally

"Well, at least you got your end wet."

He didn't know what was worse: the fact that his subconscious had just said that to him, or the fact that, for once, she was not being sarcastic.

"I was only trying to be help."

"Yes, I know. Please stop."

"What?" Fujita said, putting a halt at his primping to turn to Kisuke again.

Had he said that out loud? Good grief, this day just keeps getting worse. "Nothing, just muttering out loud," he said.

Fujita shook his head, letting out a sigh. "Don't take this the wrong way, but people have been gossiping you know," he said. "About you talking to yourself sometimes. Go get some food in you or something, all right? I'm out of here. Later!"

The door behind his roommate closed shut, leaving Kisuke glaring at his pillow, wondering what he might have done in a previous life to deserve this. His mind refused to surrender back to sleep, in between being reminded of the breakup, and fleeting ideas about Fleshy whirling around in his head. He fought back for about half an hour, until he finally gave up and decided he might as well get on with his day. The sooner it was over, the sooner he could put it behind him.

Walking through the First Rukongai District was, at the very least, almost immediately uplifting. The streets were buzzing with chatter, peddlers advertising their wares, shopkeepers greeting customers, passers-by discussing their plans for the day as they strolled through the marketplace. As usual, a big part of the wandering crowd was made up of Kisuke's classmates, recognizable by the mandatory uniform, out enjoying their day off from classes and responsibilities.

Munching on a crunchy piece of his shioyaki, Kisuke made his way over to the blacksmith's to see if any of the parts he'd ordered last week had arrived yet. He suspected Mr. Tanaka was sick of the sight of him by now, but at the very least, Kisuke made sure he was paid generously for all the trouble he was being put through. He couldn't afford not to; there wasn't exactly a great number of men skilled enough to produce the kind of quality alloy Kisuke was in the market for.

He was about to turn the corner that led into the shop's alleyway, when he noticed a strange shadow out of the corner of his eye. Looking over his shoulder, Kisuke swept the scene carefully. Nothing seemed to be out of place. A pair of girls brushed by him, issuing a quick apology before moving on. The corners and rooftops of the stores nearby were clear. No threatening or otherwise suspicious spiritual presence around. Still a little puzzled, but satisfied nothing was amiss, Kisuke headed down the alleyway, stepping into Tanaka's.

The visit was short-lived; his muscles and face dripping with sweat, Tanaka all but chased Kisuke out of the store, growling that he would be done when he was done and that he had more than enough orders backlogged that he had to get to first.

Having expected the response, Kisuke left without arguing, lest he find himself on the other end of Tanaka's hammer. Walking away from the store's alleyway, Kisuke tossed the –now empty- shioyaki stick into a nearby bin. Before he could take one more step, however, he saw it again: the shadow. Quicker on the uptake this time, he whipped around to face the flash of darkness, one hand hovering over the hilt of his blade.

What he came face-to-face with made him let out a chuckle in exasperation. "You're the one who's been making me all jumpy?" he said to the offending intruder, grinning.

Balanced on the rim of the bin was a small, black cat. Its slick tail swishing gracefully in the air, the lean, beautiful little creature looked at Kisuke with its –Hers? It's small enough to be a female- clever golden eyes and let out a soft meow. He assumed she'd been tailing him ever since the shioyaki peddler, hoping to cajole him into handing her some scraps.

"Sorry, I'm all out," he said, holding his hands out to show they were empty. "Better luck next time, kitty," he said, and leaned in to give the cat a quick scritch behind one ear.

The animal appeared to be friendly enough and didn't flinch at the touch. Kisuke supposed she was used to the presence of human souls if she roamed around the marketplace all day. Giving her a parting smile, Kisuke turned around and stepped out into the main street once more. A black cat, huh? Maybe my day is about to get better, he thought.

However, if he was hoping on getting anything done soon, he was mistaken. Not taking the hint, the cat trotted along, following him out into the busy street. Normally, he would have welcomed the chance to hang back and play with her for a while, but he figured that since he'd taken the plunge and left his room, he might as well take care of a number of chores he had been putting off for far too long.

"Go on now, shoo," Kisuke said, swinging his foot gently in her direction. The cat let out a positively forlorn meow, locking onto him with her glittering eyes. "Go away," Kisuke said, knowing full well the cat couldn't understand him, but hoping she would leave him in peace either way. The cat sat down on her haunches, her gaze beaming him with soul-rending despair at his apparent cruelty. "Look, I… I don't have any food, okay?" The cat meowed again.

Are you a moron? Why are you still making conversation with an animal?

Letting out a sigh and uttering one more inane apology at the cat, Kisuke turned his back on her and stepped into the crowd, in the hopes she would lose sight of him.

"Cheapskate."

Kisuke stopped dead in his tracks, aghast at the old man who'd just walked past him. "Excuse me?" he asked.

The man glanced at Kisuke over his shoulder, looking unperturbed. "Yes, young man?" His voice was much softer than Kisuke had expected. A little hoarse with age, sure, but nothing like the gravelly quality of the voice that had just called him a cheapskate, of all things.

"I…Uhh…" Kisuke stammered, staring at the man. "My sincere apologies, I mistook you for someone else."

The man nodded and went about his way, leaving Kisuke in a befuddled state. He was the only man in the vicinity old enough to have been the owner of that voice. Then again, perhaps the person in question wasn't as old as he'd thought. Maybe a little too heavy on the pipe, instead.

Kisuke decided not to waste more time worrying over this. The insult most likely hadn't been directed at him and he was making a fuss out of nothing. Shaking his head, he hurried along down the main street.

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SEPTEMBER 5TH, 129 B.H.I., 1ST DISCTRICT MARKETPLACE, NORTHWEST RUKONGAI

.

If she didn't think it would lead to Kisuke putting two-and-two together, Yoruichi would have cackled right about now. In all honesty, all she had initially wanted was to mess with him for a while before revealing herself and sharing the excitement of her new power with him. However, after waiting on him for hours to get off his lazy bum and get on with his day, she was determined to milk this for all it was worth.

The cat form had so far exceeded her expectations: it suppressed her spirit energy naturally, through no effort whatsoever on her part; night vision was an absolute marvel; the ability to sense spiritual essences was enhanced, to the point she could actually smell someone's presence; the small size and supple body had given her access to places that had been nigh-impenetrable before. The agility it afforded her, while very high, was not a significant improvement over her own in her natural form, but a smaller target was much harder to catch. In terms of espionage capabilities, the cat form was beyond superb. The fact that she could also speak, in a man's voice, no less, was the icing on top of an already magnificent cake.

This is going to be fun.

For the few hours it took to break Kisuke, she followed him everywhere. When he went to restock on ink and journals, she called him a nerd. When he went to get fitted for a new pair of hakama, she called him a pansy. When he stopped by a teahouse to have a drink and settle his nerves, she climbed up the tree right above his table and dropped a half-dead cicada in his cup. Okay, so perhaps that last one was a little cruel.

Every now and then, she would show herself, playing the part of the sweet, loveable ball of fluff who was hoping for some leftovers, but she otherwise stayed unseen, jumping from rooftops to windowsills to keep tabs on him. It didn't take long for him to connect her casual re-appearances with the disembodied voice of an old man, but not even he was likely to reach the right conclusion. After the cicada incident, he finally went berserk and accused her of being a vessel hosting the disgruntled soul of a tobacco chewer who'd perished of starvation. The surrounding tables of the teahouse emptied rather quickly after that.

"If I get you some food, will you LEAVE ME ALONE?" he pleaded, after she had followed him all the way back to the shioyaki peddler. He looked about ready to burst into tears.

Yoruichi gave a cheerful swish of her tail and let out an encouraging meow.

"I'll take that as a yes," Kisuke said, turning to the wary-looking peddler and taking out his money bag. "I'll have one, please."

Yoruichi let out a reproachful hiss.

Kisuke shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking in a deep, calming breath. "Better make it two, then." He paid for the food, the vendor handing over the two sticks warily, and turned to her. "Come on," he said, motioning toward an empty bench with his head. He stowed the money bag back in his pocket and took a seat on the bench, holding one shioyaki stick out. Yoruichi hopped on the bench jauntily and dove right into the food. Kisuke watched her through narrowed eyes as she devoured the salty mackerel, his other arm slung over the backrest. "So… Are you going to tell me what you are?" he asked.

Yoruichi licked the stick clean and looked up, swishing her tail again.

Kisuke held out the second stick, sighing. "I don't get it," he mumbled out loud. "This kind of possession is only possible in the human world. And you're not being possessed in the first place; I can't feel a second soul in there. I can't even feel your own. Now that, is odd," he said, in a soft voice clearly meant not to alarm her. "See, even you should have a little spiritual power. In fact, being a cat, you should have a lot more than the average animal. But there's nothing in there," he went on, appraising her with the kind of sharp, penetrating quality his eyes took on whenever he was working on a pet project.

Heh, pet project. HahaHAHA—FOCUS.

"Now why would that be?" Kisuke said, as Yoruichi munched on the second piece of mackerel. "Are you being stalked by something? Something capable of masking both its spiritual pressure and yours?" he said, and all of a sudden, he was reaching out for her nape.

Yoruichi instantly jumped off the bench and out of his grasp. Still not fast enough, Kisuke! Knowing he had dropped all pretense of a calm and collected demeanor, Yoruichi wasted no moment to look back and see if he was giving chase. She could feel him, hot in pursuit, his anger and intermixed curiosity frothing out of his essence.

"I'M NOT GOING TO HURT YOU!" he yelled.

She knew he was not going to give up until he caught her and tried to figure out what she was, and that was exactly what she had been counting on. Speeding away, she began to make her way back to the Court. Kisuke redoubled his efforts, now employing Flash Steps to catch up and reach her.

This was going to be a little harder to pull off than she thought, but Yoruichi relished the challenge. She couldn't very well use Flash Steps to escape him; he would immediately see through it and her ruse would be up, just when it was getting really interesting.

In the blink of an eye, he was right beside her, going into a dive. Yoruichi jumped upwards in the nick of time, stepping on his shoulder and propelling herself forward. She heard him let out a curse and roll back onto his feet, now positively livid as he chased her through the gate and out of Rukongai. From behind, she could hear the yelps and shouts from the crowd he was tearing through to get to her, while she sprinted effortlessly between pairs of legs and headed straight for the Academy.

The guards outside the men's dorms didn't even have time to notice her as they saw Kisuke barreling toward them, with no intention of stopping. "OI! No running in the—!"

"Sorry," Kisuke spat out, rushing past them by without a second glance.

Yoruichi could feel it, the plan formulating in his head, as his essence flared with a sense of purpose. Here we go… Kisuke jumped out to her right, making a move to reach out for her. He was forcing her to turn to the left to escape him. To his credit, he faked frustration at having failed again quite well when she evaded him, but she could tell he was pleased she had fallen for his imminent trap. She sped down the hallway, zig-zagging through a pair of students who came across her path.

Kisuke disappeared for a few seconds as Yoruichi streaked down the path, and she had a sneaking suspicion she knew what he was up to. Surely enough, she found him in front of her at the end of the hallway, coming out of a particularly well-executed Flash Step and blocking her way. Forced to backtrack, Yoruichi turned around and ran down the hallway again, passing by the same pair of students who were watching the odd scene before them in shock.

"I knew it! I told you Urahara was going to lose it one of these days!"

Kisuke made one last move, stepping up against the wall to give himself momentum and dive toward her again. Yoruichi had nowhere left to turn but straight into the open door she knew led into Kisuke's room. He followed suit, landing into a roll right behind her, looking triumphant. "Gotcha!" he yelled in glee, and stood up, twisting around to shut the door quickly, before she could escape.

And now… for the crowning moment.

Kisuke locked the door, then swiveled around. "Nowhere to run now, you—"

"Oh no, whatever shall I do now?" she drawled, perched atop the kotatsu.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

In reflex, Kisuke jumped backwards. But before Yoruichi had even time to laugh, he hit the heaving bookcase behind him. With a loud thud, the entire thing came crashing down, burying him under a mound of books, and he moved no more.

.

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.

SEPTEMBER 5TH, 129 B.H.I., MEN'S DORMITORIES, SPIRITUAL ARTS ACADEMY, COURT OF PURE SOULS

.

The first thing he became aware of was that there was something digging into his hipbone. Within a second of making that mental observation, he realized that the more pressing concern was the raging headache currently wreaking havoc inside his skull.

It hadn't been a peaceful night; his dreams had been strange and frustrating. Like with most dreams, it had all started out naturally enough, with nothing seemingly amiss. He couldn't remember the specifics, but a black cat flitted in and out of his memories, and he remembered it had been tormenting him. He had chased the damn thing all over Soul Society, because… it was in danger? The details were fuzzy. Somehow an old man had been involved, but he couldn't recall his face. Then things had gotten really outlandish and he had ended up in his dorm room with the cat actually speaking to him.

"Ugh, finally! Honestly, I've wasted, like, half my day now waiting for you to wake up. Twice."

His entire body seized up at the sound of the familiar voice. Am I…? Am I still…? Slowly, Kisuke opened his eyes, wary of what he might face once he did. His eyes first took in a pair of black paws on the tatami mat he lay upon, and as he lifted his head up cautiously, his eyes swept past the small, sleek body, coming to a stop when they met a pair of hazel, nearly golden eyes.

He didn't think it was possible, but the black cat actually looked exasperated.

"Yes, yes, let's get this over with—"

Kisuke pushed himself up and away from the creature, his back bumping against something hard. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that the lower shelves of the bookcase were digging into his back, and they were all conspicuously empty. In fact, he was just now noticing that all his books were scattered on the floor around him.

"I thought it would be more fun freaking you out, but it's really turning out to be a disappointment," the cat said, still in that same voice he had ascribed to an old man.

Kisuke turned to face it, his eyebrows chasing his hairline. The cat remained still, sitting on its haunches, its tail twitching a little under his intense scrutiny. He might have written this entire experience as a hallucination, if his head wasn't pounding so painfully. It truly was there, a mysterious creature capable of speech. Outwardly, there wasn't anything seemingly amiss: it appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, just a regular black cat. But the complete absence of any trace of spiritual power he had noticed earlier on was plenty worrisome, even without the baffling capability of speech.

"What… what are you?" he asked the creature, mouth agape.

"Well," the cat said, sending a shiver down his spine with its calm voice. Honestly, he didn't think the novelty of it would wear off no matter how much time he spent in its company. "I suppose it'll be easier to show you than to try and explain. I don't think you'd believe me even if I did."

For a moment, nothing happened. The cat remained still, simply staring at him with its brilliant, golden eyes. And then, out of nowhere, the pulse of spiritual pressure hit the air, one whose signature he knew all too well.

His reaction was immediate. Even the cat, which had so expertly eluded him all morning, seemed to be in shock by his speed as he swooped down upon it, grabbing it by the nape before it had time to do much more than blink. He could feel his blood pounding in his ears, and the need for more information was the only thing stopping him from cutting the animal down.

"What did you do to Yoruichi?" he said, holding the cat up before him, his free hand hovering over the hilt of Benihime.

The cat gaped at him for a second, its jaw comically slack, before it adopted a more cat-like expression once again. "The concern is touching and all, but I'm—"

"What did you do to her?"

"Oh, for the love of— I didn't do anything, you idiot!" the cat said. "I am Yoruichi!"

The excuse was so outlandish, so far-fetched, that he couldn't help but let out a scoff, despite the severity of the situation. It seemed even malignant spirits were not without a sense of humor, after all. "That's… actually almost amusing," he said. "Now let's hear the truth."

The cat let out a groan, shaking its head. "You want me to prove it to you?" it said. "Fine. Your birthday is on December 31st but we always celebrate it together at midnight, you have a long scar on your right bicep which I gave you about five months ago during training and it just never healed properly—"

Though the fact that the malignant spirit knew even that much about him was worrying, none of it was exactly confidential. "Yes, yes, all highly classified information—"

"It took you four weeks to learn how to whistle. And I know for a fact that you look dashing in a grey furisode and red lip stain."

Kisuke nearly dropped the cat at the sound of that last piece of information. There were only three people in the world who had ever seen him in that furisode: Yoruichi, Tessai and Ms. Fujiwara. And though he doubted the latter two had ever shared that visual with anyone else, it wasn't entirely outside the realm of possibility. That first bit on the other hand…

"It does feel exactly like her. The two essences match completely."

Brows coming together, Kisuke carefully let go of the cat's nape, cupping its chest with his other hand to hold it up and scrutinize it from all angles. The cat made no effort to escape, which he took as a good sign, though he still refused to let his guard down entirely.

"Do you believe me now?" the cat asked.

Kisuke didn't respond, his eyes flitting from the creature's own –Hazel. Almost golden- to the rest of its body. Bringing his other hand forward, he held the cat up right in front of his face. "I… Why is your voice male-sounding?"

"Well, I was actually hoping you might help me out there. I don't exactly understand everything about— WHAT ARE YOU DOING."

His eyes rolled up from their previous position right between the cat's hind legs and its tail. "I was just—"

In a very disquieting mix of human and feline behavior, the cat narrowed its eyes at him, ears slanted back, tail puffed up. "YOU HAVE THREE SECONDS TO PUT ME DOWN OR YOU LOSE THE NOSE."

"I'm starting to believe you now."

The cat let out a frustrated sigh. "You know, I wasn't going to do this, but you leave me no choice," it said. "Get me a yukata or something."

…What? "A yukata? What could you possibly need with—?"

"I need it because Kotone is my friend, and I'm quite sure she wouldn't appreciate me doing this," the cat said. "Put me down, bring out a yukata and I'll prove it to you once and for all."

Was this a trick? Was the creature trying to get him to let go so it could escape? It certainly sounded that way, but if there was a possible escape route in a locked room with all the windows shut, the cat could have easily tried to run for it when he had first loosened his grip. Eyes narrowed, he lowered the cat down onto the kotatsu, but made no further movements, watching her carefully, arms folded before his chest.

"All right, fine," the cat said. "Just don't say I didn't warn you." It hopped down onto the mat then turned around to face him again.

The cat's dark fur stood on end as it stared at him resolutely. There was a quick, odd ripple of energy in the air and then the creature's eyes began to glow brighter, as its whole body became enveloped with a bright, white essence. It was the exact color and shape of Yoruichi's spiritual pressure, down to the jagged edges. The small body became distorted, both hind and front legs starting to lengthen, and Kisuke felt his mouth drop, his back breaking out in cold sweat. What… what in the name of…? As the front limbs stopped growing, the paws elongated into what was unmistakably hands, and the creature was now crouched down, black slumped over as its lower limbs continued to lengthen, the narrow core expanding at the top and bottom, but tapering in the middle. The creature stood up to full height as its fur began to withdraw into nothing, giving way to dark, smooth skin until there was nothing left, save from a long mane of black hair now tumbling down the woman's back, a pair of sharp eyebrows and a small patch of coarse hair between her thighs.

"Hence, the yukata."

Kisuke's eyes shot up to meet hers. Where the cat had been standing but seconds ago, now stood Yoruichi, in the flesh. Quite literally.

Not too long ago, when he had been in the presence of a naked girl for the first time, the reveal had been gradual, allowing him to appreciate each and every body part slowly, and in succession. The sudden visual of a completely unclothed girl, and Yoruichi at that, was a little too overwhelming. He had no idea where to look, his eyes flitting everywhere and nowhere, from the lean, sculpted limbs –she truly was all muscle- to the defined abdomen, to the gentle curve of her hips, the long neck, the delicate collarbone, the swell of her breasts. Cat… cat… She was a CAT and now naked… what… WHAT.

Of all the ways he had pictured this happening in the past –and there had been many- nudity preceded by animal transformation had oddly not made it on the list.

She had always been a stunning girl, ever since childhood, so striking that not even the ever-powerful force of puberty had been able to leave its mark on her and force her to go through an awkward stage. If anything, she had blossomed in its wake little by little every single day, and he was just now coming to the realization that he kept calling her a girl, when everything about the lithe, naked body before him screamed Woman, instead.

He could spend an entire lifetime counting the times he had imagined what she might looked like unclothed, but none of the thousands of possible permutations in his imagination matched reality. Her hips were wider than he'd originally thought, and while he'd seen flashes of her abdomen during training, he had never pictured it to be quite so toned. It was a ridiculous thing to be disappointed over, considering the sight, but he felt a little crestfallen that he was only afforded a front view of her. He had always been partial to her back, always loved the ripple of muscles between her shoulder blades, and her long, graceful neck. Then again, the visual of her breasts, though just a touch smaller than he'd imagined, was—

"Should I ask again?"

Her words stirred him out of his reverie, making him realize that he had been gaping at her naked body for far too long than could be deemed accidental. Looking away, he rushed over to his closet at once and pulled out the first piece of clothing his hand wrapped around. Thankfully, it turned out to be his blue, striped yukata.

Wordlessly, eyes very deliberately trained on the floor, he held the robe out to her. It occurred to him then that perhaps he should apologize for having ogled at her that way. In his defense, it had been awfully sudden, not to mention a massive shock –A cat. She was a CAT just now. HOW- but he still should have averted his gaze far sooner than he had.

"Sorry," he muttered, as she took the yukata off his hand. "I uhh… didn't mean to umm… It was just…" Do not say hard, do not dare to utter the word hard: it will be your downfall. Just say anything! Any synonym will do! Firm, rigi—NOPE. NO. Solid, tough— "…difficult. Not to stare, that is. Bit of a shock," he said at long last, allowing himself to breathe again.

"I did warn you."

"That you did. Sorry."

He waited what he felt was a sufficient amount of time, then turned toward her, eyes gradually travelling up her legs to make sure she was clothed before he made an attempt to meet her eyes. She had just now finished tying the belt around her waist, then she slipped her hands over her nape to pull her long hair out. And despite the fact that he had just seen her completely nude, the sight of her, in his clothes, the top of her back peeking out from the loose collar as she gently let her hair down, cheeks slightly flushed, was the most erotic visual he had ever witnessed.

Yoruichi shifted her gaze over to him, her pupils dilated, and the slight glimmer of shyness in her eyes sent his heart racing.

"Don't let Kotone know about this, okay?" she said. "It'll just upset her."

It took Kisuke a moment to process her words. Kaneko? Why does she keep bringing her up? What does she have to do with—? With a start, he realized Yoruichi clearly had no idea that things had ended between him and Kaneko on the morning after their group outing to Rukongai. He was surprised Kaneko wouldn't have brought it up, but given their last conversation before parting ways, Kisuke could see why she may have chosen not to say anything. Especially to Yoruichi.

"Right," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and trying not to think about that disastrous night, or read too much into the fact that Yoruichi hadn't mentioned Yoshida at all. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on one's vantage point, the mere mention of Kaneko had been more than enough to completely destroy the moment.

"That having been said… I take it back, this is pretty amusing," she said, the stiffness in her shoulders evaporating, her expression turning smug. "Neck-in-neck between you screaming like a little girl and being buried under a mountain of books."

Kisuke rolled his eyes at her, feeling his whole face burn even as he let out a small grin. "So…"

"So…?"

"That was, umm… interesting."

Yoruichi arched both eyebrows at him, one hand resting on her hip.

"I meant the— I wasn't referring to— YOU WERE A CAT."

"Oh, that," Yoruichi said.

"Yes, that," Kisuke said. "Care to offer an explanation?"

Yoruichi shrugged, suddenly looking a little sheepish. Thinking it was a good idea to sit down after the kind of morning he'd just had, he motioned at her to join him over by the kotatsu, which should additionally provide ample cover until a very pressing situation currently developing within him resolved itself. Taking a seat across him, Yoruichi toyed with the rim of one sleeve –My clothes. She is naked underneath my clothes. STOPIT- looking a little lost as to how to begin.

Taking a deep breath, she began by telling him that she had finally achieved first release a while ago, and how frustrated she had been that it had refused to yield anything whatsoever. She had noticed, however, aside from a general boost in her speed and raw power, that all her senses would at times be heightened. Whenever she would communicate with her spirit –"Her name is Maya," she said with a smile- she could feel an odd, suffocating sensation, like her entire existence was being forced into a smaller vessel. She described how she would wake up at nights, restless and soaked in sweat after experiencing strange dreams, her ears picking up sounds in the distance they shouldn't be capable of registering. Little by little, Maya had nudged her along the path that had led to her transformation, whispering strange pieces of advice to her, supporting her when she made positive progress.

"Wait, wait…" Kisuke said, holding one hand up. "Are you saying this is a shikai ability of your weapon?"

"I think so," she said. "It's… strange, right? I haven't heard of anything like it before. Have you?" It was clear from her expression she had been banking on him knowing something about this.

"No," Kisuke said, now thoroughly impressed and more than a little jealous for her incredibly rare, possibly unique ability. Still, all shikai abilities he knew of were a means to attack or defend in battle. She couldn't very well use the cat form mid-fight, and he was certain she knew it. There were also enhancing abilities that affected the wielder, but nothing like what Yoruichi was experiencing. "Maybe it's more of a… passive ability?" he suggested.

Yoruichi simply shrugged. "I've been busting my head over this for weeks and haven't come up with a better explanation."

"For weeks? You've been…" Kisuke trailed off. Pursing his lips, he let out a sigh and even as the words left his lips, he knew he was being a massive hypocrite. "Why didn't you tell me anything?" he asked.

"Because…" Yoruichi said, gesturing vaguely with her hands. "It's… it's weird. Very interesting, I guess, but really, really weird!" she said. "I didn't know what to tell you because I didn't understand it myself." she went on, letting out a hollow, humorless chuckle. "I can't use it in battle, it's not— What's it even for? I mean, in terms of its use for espionage it's excellent, but really? Everyone has all these useful abilities, like your shield, or an energy blast, or elemental forces on their side and I get feline transformation?"

Understanding her need to vent, Kisuke hadn't uttered a word while Yoruichi ranted, letting her get it out of her system without any judgment or questions she obviously couldn't answer. He knew that for someone of Yoruichi's talent and brilliance, her shikai simply hadn't lived up to her expectations. It was a unique –as far as he could tell- ability among Soul Reapers and dead useful, but not in battle, as she had pointed out. Then again, Yoruichi had never really needed the extra help. Aside from the boost in spiritual energy a released Soul Cutter gave to its wielder, the accompanying abilities were meant to be a boon and she was—

"Oh," Kisuke said, not really meaning to say it out loud. His eyes glazed over, looking at Yoruichi without seeing her, as he followed his train of thought to its logical conclusion.

"What? What?" Yoruichi said, sounding hopeful.

It was so simple, really: Yoruichi didn't need the help. "I know why," he said, grinning at her. "I know why you got this power and why you probably won't be getting any more shikai abilities."

"Oh, that's cheerful, thanks," Yoruichi quipped, her face falling again.

Kisuke shook his head and held his hands up in a placatory manner. "No, no, listen," he said. "Okay… Truth?"

Yoruichi frowned at him, looking wary of what she was about to hear, but nodded anyway.

"Your swordsmanship is… well… it's good. More than good. Way above average," Kisuke said. "But you never enjoy it. When you spar, you do it because it's a requirement, because you have to. And that's why you'll always be a proficient at it, but not great at it."

"Your tone suggests I should be feeling good about myself right about now," Yoruichi said, expression even cloudier, arms folded against her chest. "Still not happening."

"Be patient," Kisuke said, pointing a finger at her. "I'm getting to it."

"Get to it faster."

"Don't you see? You don't need the weapon!" Kisuke said, grinning broadly at her. "We talked about this back in the first semester: you've never liked it much and you can wipe the floor with anyone using only your bare hands. That's what you love doing. That's what you're great at. And Maya knows it."

"But—"

"She's not a sword," Kisuke said. "The sword is just a physical manifestation, remember? What your Soul Cutter truly is, is a part of you. Why would Maya aid your swordsmanship any further when you don't want it or need it? Why not give you a power you can actually use? You mentioned you've also noticed your speed and power has been enhanced, right?"

Yoruichi's back had gone ramrod straight as she listened to him, her expression mellower, though still a little uncertain.

"I mean, you can transform into another species," Kisuke said. "I'll look it up for you if you want, but I'm fairly certain this has never happened before in the history of Soul Society. Ever."

Yoruichi's lips twitched upward at his words, her hands bunched up in the overlong sleeves of his yukata. "It is pretty cool, isn't it?" she said quietly.

"What can you do?" he asked her. "In that form, I mean. I know you can do something to your spiritual essence, I couldn't feel a thing."

Yoruichi nodded, now unable to contain her eagerness to gush all about her new power. She leaned over the kotatsu, her grin broad and vibrant. "I don't even have to try," she said. "It almost completely masks it! I should probably work on it, though, you noticed it was odd, so thanks for the tip. Night vision is amazing. It's clearer than my normal vision during daytime. Everything is sharp, crystal clear. And then there's the heightened senses. Kisuke, you can't even imagine," she said, shaking her head. "I can hear and smell everything. I could even pick up on Captain Ukitake's essence when he was demonstrating masking to a class." Seeing the questioning look in Kisuke's eyes, she explained. "Well, I had to take it out for a spin a couple of times, didn't I? I already knew I could identify spiritual energy differently in that form, so I wanted to see how powerful it was."

Kisuke beamed at her. It was impossible not to, her enthusiasm was contagious. It was obvious this had been weighing on her for a while now, and he was glad she was now focused on all the positive aspects, rather than lament the fact that her power was vastly different than anyone else's.

Yoruichi returned the smile with equal fervor. "So… you really believe it? That this is something Maya decided I needed, and not some… freak accident or something?"

"Of course," Kisuke said. "I wasn't patronizing you, I meant it all."

"Well… you made me feel better, so thanks," she said, bringing her knees up to her chest and putting her arms around them.

Kisuke leaned forward on his elbows, folding his hands. "One last thing," he said, his expression darkening. Yoruichi's shoulders tensed up. "The talking?"

Yoruichi let out a snort, covering her mouth behind the blue sleeve of his yukata. "Yes?"

"Was the timbre deliberate?"

"I don't know!" Yoruichi said, bursting into laughter. "It's the form's natural voice, I guess? The first time I spoke in cat form it just came out that way. Must be something about the different vocal chords."

Kisuke nodded at her, crossing his arms as he gave her a scrutinizing gaze. The voice alone was a mystery all of its own, and it was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to this fascinating power. Given the shock of seeing her transform for the first time, he hadn't really paid attention to the shifting spiritual particles between forms. The most interesting question was whether there would be a change in her spiritual signature for the duration, which would imply that the transformation worked on a molecular level, rearranging—

"Stop it," Yoruichi said.

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're thinking," she said, pointing a finger at him, eyes narrowed down to slits. "And I know exactly what. Two things, to be precise."

Kisuke arched an eyebrow at that.

"You want to study me," she said. "Which is out of the question."

Well, that was a disappointment, though not unexpected. He did think he might manage to talk her into it at some point in the future, but it was of little significance right now; the second matter was far more pressing. "I suppose that one was rather obvious," he said. "What's the second one?"

"You want me to clean out your garden. Also out of the question."

"Oh, come on! I'll pay you in snacks!"

"No."

"Milk?"

"I'll take the yukata."

"The— Huh," Kisuke said, brow creasing. One yukata for a complete garden extermination? That was more than fair, and— WAIT. That yukata? My yukata? She… she wants to keep it? And… wear it?

"In exchange for me finding you a good gardener, that is."

He paid little mind to the addendum, focusing instead on her request. "You… you like the robe?"

Yoruichi shrugged, holding out one dangling sleeve before her face. "It's comfy. Plus, I need to wear something to return to my dorm," she said. "Wouldn't want to traumatize you again."

Yes, we definitely wouldn't want that. "All right. You can keep it."

Yoruichi grinned, running her hands down the front of the robe –Hhnnnnngghh- and looking pleased, then stood up on her feet. "I'd better go," she said. "I was meant to be back home for lunch, but someone took forever to wake up."

"Yes, I know, it was terribly rude of me to prolong the wait for my complete and utter unhinging at the hands of a talking cat," he drawled.

"Too right," Yoruichi said, smirking as she stepped into the bedroom and pulled the window open. She sat down on the windowsill, legs dangling over the side as she prepared to leave. "Expect a gardener to show up at your door tomorrow."

Kisuke leaned against the wall, nodding. "Enjoy the yukata."

With a parting wave, Yoruichi hopped down onto the grass and sped away, the overly long robe flowing behind her as she ran. Kisuke took her previous seat on the windowsill as he watched her go, resigning himself to the fact that he would never again get a peaceful night's sleep.


.


A/N: Fujita Hayate (Kisuke's dorm mate) is singing Omoigawa (River of Memory), a normally beautiful, poignant song about unsuccessful love, which I assume would sound especially grating when sung by someone of little musical talent. It should be noted that because of its melancholy mood, it is often sung at memorial services, which makes it a pretty disturbing song to wake up to first thing in the morning. Fujita thinks it's romantic *shrugs*

Hana Shihōin's struggles with infertility were always meant to be a part of the story. Originally, before Yūshirō made an appearance, I had assumed Yoruichi was an only child, so it made sense to me that her parents would've at least tried for more heirs. What really sold me on the idea was Sui Feng's words during the flashback, when she very specifically points out that Yoruichi was the first woman to ever hold the position of Head of the Clan (and probably Commander of the Onmitsukidō, though the way the sentence is phrased leaves that open to interpretation). And as much as I adore the fact that Yoruichi one-upped the patriarchy so beautifully, I am now really glad that I'll be able to give Hana a happier 'ending' with Yūshirō's future birth. For more of my thoughts on Hana, as well as her relationship with Yoruichi, check out the extra notes.

The scenes leading up to Yoruichi revealing her cat form were actually the very first I wrote for this story, when trying to get a feel for the characters and such. Yoruichi dropping a cicada in Kisuke's cup was just a funny little detail that simply occurred to me at the time, but it was from there that I got the idea to make Kisuke hate bugs. It's a very random character trait and there's nothing tying it to canon, but it amused me to think of a powerful man quivering at the sight of a harmless little bug. As the designated bug slayer in my own home, I know all too well that it's not only women who hate/fear them (except for grasshoppers who can totally go fuck themselves *shudders* ).

As you probably gathered from this chapter, there is only one more academy instalment left. As much as I've enjoyed writing about these formative years, I'm more than eager to move on with the story and start writing them as adults.