Well...that didn't work.
He'd chased her. Honestly, he had. As best as anyone who wasn't as demonically fast as she was could possibly have done. All in all, Kisuke thought he'd made a pretty good showing for himself, managing to follow her at the very least even if it was at a pathetically wide distance. Despite his complete bafflement at how his lovely former student had managed to wrestle herself into such a diminutive and unlikely vessel, he knew it was her - the power signature washing off the alley cat had been unmistakable - and he'd a pretty damn good idea where she was going. It hadn't taken all of his intelligence to flit in the direction of the Shihouin manse, egged on by the occasional wisp of lingering reiastu and feminine ire.
What he hadn't expected was the titanium-hard shield he'd run into, just a few blocks away from her home, nor the way it had smacked of her spirit-power and reminded him wryly of a similar shield he'd managed to slam around her not too long ago. Rubbing his nose and gazing into the distance, at the rooftops and spires of the stronghold into which she was no doubt now safely interred, he'd grimly reminded himself what a damn quick study she was. In the end, it was his fault for showing her a shield in the first place and introducing to her the idea that someone of their still-untapped potential could manage one. Completely stymied, he'd waited until nearly sunrise before reluctantly turning around and heading back.
He'd hoped, at the very least, that she would come out and talk to him. But she hadn't, and as much as that disappointment stung it still left him contemplating the possibility that his association with another attractive noble had inspired such a deep hurt in his former student...former friend...and that indicated - what? A similar regard at worst, and at best...
...a complimentary affection? What else could inspire such a massive reaction on her part, that she would not even grant him the chance to explain? Friendship alone could not explain it. And that meant...
That meant the very possibility of the impossible. And there were few things Kisuke found more difficult to ignore.
Not that there was a dearth of distractions. Graduation had gone off without a hitch - and without so much of a glimpse of the one person he'd wished to see - and when formality melted into celebration and the night sky filled with colored explosions of arcing figures such as only the Shiba could manage, he'd reveled into the tiny, black cat figure that he'd convinced Kuukaku to sneak into the assembly, as some sign of his mollification. Kuukaku had protested, eventually capitulating only after he'd brought to bear all of his charm and further promised to help her ace every single one of her classes the next year, but the hoped-for conciliation he'd wished to prompt from Yoruichi had never materialized. He'd graduated, along with dozens of other shinigami albeit the only one to graduate so quickly, and in no surprise whatsoever had been welcomed into the lower levels of the Twelfth Squad with open arms.
And so he threw himself in an almost fervid manner into his experiments, now that he had every opportunity and means available in Sereitei to follow his imagination and chase whatever theory he wished. And what he wished, more than anything, was to find a way to make the difference in status between himself and the nobles irrelevant.
Kisuke was not stupid; he knew that the only place in Sereitei where such equality existed was in the Goeti 13. He further knew, empirically, that it would be immensely challenging to achieve military excellence and that there was only one way to excel to such a position as to become a presence of note. He also knew that it was supposed to take decades of work as a full-fledged shinigami to achieve bankai, even longer to master it, and that the accomplishment of either did not guarantee Captain status. Nor, for that matter, would a successful Captaincy catapult him as far up into the heavens as to reach the noble stratosphere.
But he had nothing to lose by trying. And he owed it to Yoruichi - hell, he owed it to both of them - to become the best he could be. To reach for a sky without limits...
But decades...now, that just wouldn't do. There had to be a better way to reach bankai. A faster way...
And so he spent hours and hours in cold, dusty corners of archives doing whatever research one could do on a subject considered completely anathema to discuss, much less document. Captains never, ever talked about their bankais with their own peers much less to subordinates, and the method of achieving such power was shrouded in mystery. But in the end, all those moldy scrolls could not keep their precious secrets from a mind that shone like the sun, and slowly but surely Kisuke started to pry concepts, hints, suggestions from long-forgotten tomes. He was an intellectual pearl-diver prying jewels of knowledge and hints of theory out of the most stubborn, oysteric minds of eons past.
And it was on these thinnest of threads that he started to weave his experiments, the secret ones he went to great lengths to hide from his superiors.
It was almost enough to ignore how much he missed Yoruichi. Gods, how he missed her.
Once, alone in his sparse Squad room, he even pulled out his mirrorball and pinged it on, drinking in the sight of her for long moments before the ache in his chest made him turn it off again. That complacent, benign version of Yoruichi had nothing to do with the inquisitive, brilliantly alive vixen with which he'd stolen so much time, the one he'd probably left hurt and confused with no way to explain, and the banal indulgence only left him feeling emptier than before.
He tried to find her in Sereitei, during those times when his heart was heaviest. It was an exercise in futility, and he knew it; a member of the Shihouin clan was by extension a member of the SMC, and they were never found unless they wanted to be. Even if he had come to the conclusion that her hurt behavior from months before must in some way prove that she did care about him, their paths never crossed, and before too long the intense loneliness started to settle in. Knowing that somewhere lost in the forms and functions of the Shihouin clan, she probably felt just as lonely as he did only made everything worse, and sooner or later he would trudge back to his laboratories and start churning away at another theoretical thread, throwing himself mercilessly into his research until the endless hours of night turned slowly to dawn. After months of worry and heartache and sleep-deprivation, his health took a noticeable decline.
It was in just such a contemplative state of exhaustion that Urahara found himself one day passing a long wait at Fourth squad lost in thought. He didn't even register an inquisitive presence until a quiet, thin cough roused his attention.
"Good gods, are you still here?" Kisuke looked up in surprise to see the slender, noble figure of Ukitake Jyuushirou standing in the waiting room doorway. "You've been sitting there for hours."
"Ukitake-taicho," Kisuke swiftly rose to offer a proper prostration. "My apologies, I did not hear you enter. It was not my intention to be rude..."
Ukitake smoothly swept aside the gesture, taking another step into the room and regarding him with mild concern. "No offense, of course, but I am appalled that you have been kept waiting so long. Why, you were here when I arrived this morning and it is nearly time for tea." Dark brows furrowed in consternation. "Thoroughly unacceptable. Come with me, I will make sure you are properly attended." Ukitake turned slightly and gestured for Kisuke to follow.
Kisuke hurried to match his pace, quick to set the captain to rights. "Thank you, sir, but I am not unwell. I'm simply picking up supplies for Twelfth..."
"Ah. For some grand experiment, no doubt." Ukitake's eyes were twinkling as he changed course, gliding down hallways as if he knew the layout by heart. Which, in all fairness, he probably did.
"Yes, sir." Urahara was in no position whatsoever to discuss what had really been occupying his mind. "Truly, I am in no hurry, there is no need to inconvenience yourself."
"Not at all, boy," Ukitake's expression warmed into a grin. "I have heard your name a great deal but have not yet had the pleasure of meeting you. You must permit me the indulgence." He eyeballed the lanky figure striding alongside him thoughtfully, producing another smile. "You are...well described."
Kisuke didn't even want to know what that meant; honestly, there were so many rumors about him floating around Sereitei by now that he hardly had time to keep track of them all. Nor did he much care. He did find it hard to believe, though, that Ukitake-taicho might be the kind to judge a person on mere rumor...? A quick glimpse told him that Ukitake's grin was a bit on the wry side, so Urahara felt safe in offering a slightly sarcastic smile in return.
"I can only imagine, sir. No doubt you half expected to find me with three heads and a tail."
"Nonsense, you are being far too modest," Ukitake returned, seeming to enjoy the exchange. "Although I am sorely disappointed to see that your horns appear to be missing..."
Kisuke instantly felt at ease, and allowed his grin to break freely across his face. "I must have left them at home, sir. I won't be so careless in the future."
"See that you don't," replied Ukitake in mock seriousness. "After all, I might make the mistake of treating you like a normal person and that would hardly do, now would it?"
They were briefly interrupted as Ukitake came across a Third Seat and, handing her Urahara's list of needed supplies, sent her off with a kind request that nonetheless had the girl scurrying to obey. That problem settled, Ukitake turned and faced Kisuke. "There - you should have your supplies in no time. Although," he made a small show of examining him closely. "Are you sure you aren't feeling unwell? You look rather haggard. They aren't pushing you too hard at Twelfth, are they?"
"No, sir," Kisuke replied quickly. Despite the unexpected camaraderie, he wasn't about to go into what was really bothering him. "Thank you for your concern, but I do not require medical attention."
Ukitake's brown eyes were unsettlingly sharp, for just the briefest of moments. "No," he said slowly. "I dare say there is nothing medical wrong with you at all." Before Kisuke could start to unravel the contemplative tone of his voice, the captain was all smiles again. "My apologies if I am intruding on some grand invention or complex speculation. I will leave you to your deep thoughts." Ukitake's eyes twinkled for a moment, and then he turned and strode away. "My deepest gratitude for your time, Urahara Kisuke. I dare say it will be interesting to see what you make of yourself in the future."
A few more steps of that careful, deliberate stride and he was gone.
And so it was that Urahara Kisuke found himself huddled in his secret cavern mentally dissecting an interaction that, for once in the past months, had nothing whatsoever to do with Shihouin Yoruichi.
It wasn't unusual for Kisuke to spend hours in the huge cave, alone with his thoughts. He'd done it for long years before entering the Academy, when his beloved yet un-intellectual family would weary him with their simpleness. Here, his thoughts had soared long before his sword had sung, and it was to here he always retreated when he needed to escape the complexities of a world he could never quite figure out. What's more, since his unglamorous eviction from Yoruichi's life, he had made a point, every single weekend, to go back to his underground playground, and he wouldn't even pretend that he was doing anything other than waiting for her. Even though he knew the odds of ever seeing her again were impossible and unfathomable by turns, he couldn't think of anything he would rather wait for.
This time, though, he found himself examining his conversation with Ukitake with bemused curiosity. While he couldn't even pretend to understand why the sickly captain had sought him out nor why he had extended such gracious familiarity, one thing Kisuke quickly acknowledged was that he had desperately needed such an interaction. The harsh treatment he had received in the Shihouin parlor had deeply assaulted his self-assurance, something Kisuke had not even thought possible. Nevertheless, Ukitake's feely-offered friendliness had given him reason once more to believe that maybe, just maybe, not all nobles were insufferably superior.
And that him missing Yoruichi all over again.
He had only just started down that well-worn mental path when a pop of reiatsu and a whiff of kido swept over him. Surprised, he looked up.
Yoruichi strode past him without a glance in his direction. She swiftly discarded her noble robes, leaving her curvy body clad only in basic black kimono, and hefted her zanpaktou with a flourish.
"You'd better not tell me you've been just sitting here this whole time. I've been training with Okatu-sensei and you'd be phenomenally stupid to underestimate my sword now - there's more life in her than ever."
Kisuke just stared at her, frozen; a thoroughly illogical part of his brain wondered if she was really there or if his burning desire to see her again had summoned a mirage.
Yoruichi quickly dispelled that idea. "You look awful." She cocked her head and gave him a wry grin that didn't fully outshine the haggard lines on her face. If he'd wanted proof that these last weeks had cost her as much torment as he'd endured, all he had to do was take in the drawn shadows in her eyes. Something in his chest eased. "Did you really think I wouldn't find my way back here?" Her eyes were sparkling now, something in their black centers burning; she looked as one might when they'd just been released from prison, if only for a little while.
Kisuke finally found his voice. "What about..." Don't be stupid, Kisuke - keep it simple. "What about your mother?" he finally croaked, cursing himself for ten kinds of cowardice.
"Mother is under the distinct impression that I am having tea with a friend. We have several hours, at the least." Yoruichi hefted her zanpaktou, swinging it about with considerably more dexterity than the last time he'd seen her. She raised an eyebrow at him expectantly.
Kisuke rose, hefting his own zanpaktou and dropping expertly into a defensive pose. "And this friend-?" He grunted with the force of her first hit. "You're sure this person can be trusted?"
"Positive." She threw a lightning-quick swing at his head, flicking her wrist at the last second and very nearly removing his left ear. She paused, a slightly congratulatory look on her face at his swift block. "Now, do you want to talk, or do you want to spar?"
He wanted to kiss her, but didn't dare try his luck, and sparring was very nearly as good.
Quite some time later, they were both exhausted but elated; her sword sang with awareness, noticeably more than when they'd started, and Kisuke couldn't help but feel that the name of his own zanpaktou was on the tip of his tongue. His sharp mind took a moment to note the catalytic effect they seemed to have on each other, as if something deep within each of them pulled the best out of each of them. As if, together, they were not only complete, they were more than a whole...
"So," she purred, interrupting his thoughts with a tone too angelic. "Do you teach any noblewoman you come across, or just the pretty ones with nice racks?"
The energy of their spar dipped into something dangerous. Kisuke responded with a swift flick of his blade towards her right kidney. "I'll teach anyone who wants to learn." The answering nearly-manic series of attacks she threw left him all but breathless. "And why should you care?"
"I don't." And yet, it was only a surge of adrenaline and luck that saw Urahara with a nicked neck instead of a severed head.
"Clearly not," he murmured dryly. "Still, you managed an elaborate cover story, lied to your mother and found your way back here to fight me of all people. So, Yoruichi - why are you here?"
"To teach you your place, chozo," she spat, her face twisted darkly. "And what gives you the right to such insulting familiarity??"
The next few moments were a close call. "Nothing much," he grunted, when he'd finally found a second to breathe. "But I think it might have something to do with the fact that I love you."
Her scream rattled off the walls, her attacks impossibly becoming more furious. Parry, riposte, a few moves that had no names but were laden with death. It took every ounce of his ability to stay in one piece, until finally they ground to a halt, blades locked and faces only a breath away from each other.
Yoruichi's eyes glittered like molten lava. "How dare you? What makes you think I won't kill you for such presumption!?"
"Because," he grated, refusing to back down. "You love me, too. Don't you." It has hardly a question.
He never even saw her next move, but his sword did. Without thought, without hesitation, the reiatsu - the name - erupted out of him.
"Nake, Benihime!"
The bloodmist shield would turn out to be the only thing that prevented her from running him through entirely, the shock of materialization throwing them both for a loop. Agog, they both stared at the manifestation, frozen in something akin to disbelief.
Slowly, Yoruichi dropped her offense, reaching out to touch the shield with something akin to reverence. "What is it?" He could feel the feather light touch of her fingertips singing through his veins as she grazed it in awe. "What's it made of?"
He, too, was mesmerized. "Blood," he replied, almost a whisper. "Mine, I think." He didn't know how he knew that, but he knew it as well as his own name.
A long time passed while she stared at it. "It's beautiful," she breathed. Slowly, finally, her golden eyes met his, disarmed and open. "It's also enough for one day, don't you think?"
"Yes, he murmured numbly, a strange lethargy steeling into his limbs. A deep, haunting sensation was thrumming along his veins, to the point where he nearly missed her next words.
"Come on; we've time enough to rid ourselves of the battle grime, ne?"
Nodding dumbly, he followed her.
This time she didn't even flinch at the hot-tubs; shedding their kimonos, they both slipped achingly into the hot water, each sighing in relief as sore muscles slowly relaxed.
Not that all his muscles relaxed; as he had all those many weeks ago, Kisuke found himself concentrating on keeping his body in check. It wasn't easy, with the delicious memory of that one kiss setting his blood on fire. In truth, he had been consternating himself for months for making the advance. The only way he'd held himself back, that last time they shared this pool, was by berated himself mercilessly that she couldn't possibly want him as he did her, that she was a noble and deserved her space and respect due to her position. Not to mention she was probably already promised to someone and due to her breeding had probably not enjoyed the freedom of sexual exploration that was available in Rukongai. Which made him a cad of the first water were he to presume to indulge in any intimacy with the girl...
But then she had emerged flustered from the tubs to join him, her cheeks flushed and eyes averted, and she had been vibrating with hurt. And he'd realized, as he'd taken her hands in his, that she had thought that he hadn't approached her because he hadn't wanted to...And he was damned if he was going to be misunderstood again.
Still, here they were in the pool again, and he found himself waiting. Always waiting. He didn't know if it was uncertainty of her feelings for him (though he could hardly believe that he could be mistaken about them at this point) or if it was just his innate need to observe, to gather information, so see what would happen without interference. Whatever it was, he forced himself to breath slowly, to relax as much as possible. To wait.
When the sounds at the other end of the pool indicated her exit, he finally allowed his eyes to drift open. She wasn't looking at him, and he almost smiled at the realization that she was exacting a bit of revenge on him for last time. Quietly, she got dressed, dawdling deliciously. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, although she refused to meet his. When she finally turned, his heart broke open at the unspoken words in her eyes.
Golden eyes pooled in a way that would see him lost forever in their depths. "I'll be back."
In an instant of shunpo, he was standing in front of her. For a long moment, he met her gaze before kissing her.
"I'll be waiting."
Her lips curved in a tiny smile. "And next time, it will be my shikai that gets released, understood?"
He grinned back. "As you wish, my Lady," he replied.
She frowned at him, a glint in her eyes that set his bones on fire. "My Lady?" she smirked, turning and gathering reiatsu. "I think we're just bit beyond that, don't you, Kisuke?"
Before he could recover from the shock, or the way his name in that low, husky tone nearly drove him berserk, she was gone.