Disclaimer: If it were suddenly mine, I'd marvel. And the art would go bad very quickly. Sorry, but that's the truth. Ah, well. I don't own Bleach and am grateful to Tite Kubo for coming up with it.
* bolds the key words for paragraphs*
AN: Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I know it's been a very long time, but RL was.... well, wow. And then I got writer's block. And then I wrote badly. And then more writer's block. And then RL and then.... You get the point. I didn't mean to disappear off to nowhere like that! And I've been writing this chapter for a month now, adding a bit every now and then, even in the period when I wrote a single paragraph a day (which eventually turned out to be a bad one. Every day). I feel guilty.
Anyway, the idea of a Villain Song belongs to many people and many movies. I just wanted to do something crazy like that. Oh, the Captioned Words Thing might or might not occur every once in awhile and might or might not be something I picked off of TV Tropes (the site).
The pie thing is a reference to Nostalgia Critic's "11 Most Awkward Christopher Walken Moments". If you don't know who the Nostalgia Critic is, you should find out immediately. Googling is good. Wikipedia, too.
Also, I have created a yahoo! group for audiobooks made after fanfiction. Anybody welcomed to download/upload any audio of any fanfic of any fandom there. Link: http: // groups. yahoo. com/ group/ fanaudios/
Don't forget to remove the spaces.
Thanks to all those who favorite this story or add an alert to it. It's really nice to see that there's so many of you (71 currently) who follow it. It's also interesting to see the review/hit/favorite/alert proportions.
I'm also a big fan of the stats by country. Apparently, there's people here from Romania, who aren't actually me or my friend (I keep getting a strange feeling when that happens, wondering whether they're somebody I know who isn't letting on), and there was somebody from Japan, a person who probably clenches their teeth every time I accidentally rape an aspect of their culture or life or just any aspect of Japan, really (sorry! Really sorry!) And somebody from Latvia, a country which I considered most exotic and unheard-of until I wiki-ed it and discovered I knew it, but its English name didn't really resemble the Romanian one (Latvia vs. Letonia – how was I to know? Whence does this difference come from? The mind boggles)
Before you think that any other fan work I may be doing is interfering with the posting of this fic.... It really isn't so. It was just a hard, long chapter to write.
Chapter 10: Tick Tack Time
(or, The One In Which Several Relevant Things are Explained)
"Let go of me! Hey, I said let. Me. Go!..." Pause, as he considered another strategy. "Urahara, you bastard--release me! Now! I'll kill that Aaoyama bastard!"
The shopkeeper sighed and continued the search for his elusive underwear. It was dark and he didn't want to turn on the lights, lest somebody decided that was the perfect signal to come inside the room. He didn't really want to put clothes on, true, and he wasn't sure he was planning on leaving the room yet. Outside there be monsters. In the shape and form of Soi Fon and Shichi and Byakuya – the last of which was there by his own request. But he didn't want to go through the ordeal of talking to them right now. He wanted a few more minutes, but now he just felt the need to linger. An afterglow, as opposed to wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. Drop the ma'am, though, before Ichigo gets wind of it. It fit the situation like a bull in a china shop.
However, despite his intentions to just relax and pretend that the world wasn't waiting outside, he simply had to wear something as soon as possible. He found the sight of Ichigo fuming against him and struggling with all his might in a bakudou strangely arousing and an erection was the last thing the kid needed to see right now. Well, true, Ichigo could be convinced that the said sight was exactly the sort of sight he needed right now, true, explanations were still in order, as well as a heart-to-heart about people, especially certain red-haired young men, their responsibilities, and things that really weren't their responsibilities, such as some blond person's intimate matters, that were only open to him and those very, very close to him.
Which brought the next set of troubling considerations to the front of Urahara's mind. What did he have with the young man? Where was this unnameable thing going? He didn't know, no matter how he looked at it. Was Ichigo going to be a friend and partner? A lover, like Yoruichi was? Or the way she used to be? Was. Used to.... Gods, he didn't even know where he stood with her. But either way, this was getting intimate. Initially, Urahara had thought that emotional distance was a good thing for both of them. That he could sleep with him and then get detached. Well, the fact that he hadn't thought he'd really get another chance might have added to the certainty of those thoughts, to his decision not to offer the younger man the use of his first name.
He wished everything would be clear, and his house empty, and Aizen six feet under and Seireitei keeping itself to itself and Shichi being nothing more than a correspondent and occasional visitor currently far, far away. If it had been that way, Urahara would have been more than happy to abandon his search for his other clothes (underwear having been found and put on by now) and he'd have snogged Ichigo senseless, released him and had his way with him. Again.
He couldn't help his drive. He was a sensual, perverted, handsome shopkeeper. It was even on his unofficial greeting cards. He wanted the younger man again and again and wondered idly how much would be needed to sate him, even for a short while. As it was, he still wanted the red haired young man, who was crying out at him to release him, which demand, by the way, needed a response.
"I can't," Urahara said, not looking at him, although seeing him struggle from the corner of his eye. He wanted to turn on the lights, just to see him better. Irate Ichigo – now, why did that excite him? He smiled from the corner of his lips, thinking of the red-head's reaction were he to be released that very instant. "Not until you promise to stay put. My, you can't just go after Aaoyama like that, after all, you'd forget your sword here and your kidou skills are inexistent...."
"What the.... Is that some sort of a joke?!" Yes, Urahara thought. It is. Mind you, not a very good one, but still. Identifiable. "I'd never forget my sword! Besides, I can and I will go after him, you can't keep me here forever."
"Now, now, relax, will you? What sort of a person would you be if you actually went off to kill him in that state? Ichigo, revenge really isn't you. Well, I guess hot-headed protective reactions are, howev--"
"He can't be let go like this. Why the hell don't you go after him? Why won't you let me go after him! I'll...."
Urahara let out a theatrical sigh and put on a green piece of garment that turned out not to be pants, after all, so he would simply have to wear it on the upper part of his body, as it was meant to be worn. Gah. Clothes. He'd have to invent some that sorted themselves out in near-darkness. "You'll do nothing whatsoever. He's working for the Central 46. And if you interfere with them, it gets bad."
"I can't just stay here and do nothing!"
"Yes, you can. That's why I have you under a binding spell. And even if I can't keep you here forever, I can keep you for long enough. And have my wicked way with you oftener, I guess. It's a fantasy fulfilled!"
Ichigo struggled some more, trying to release himself and grumbling against weird old teachers. He almost managed to get a bit of the spell off of himself. Urahara reinforced his bakudou, making the younger man cry out with rage. My, my, he thought. What truly remarkable will! Ichigo simply had to be admired for his astonishing skills at defeating any sort of obstacle placed in front of him. Alright, those thoughts felt slightly too corny, even for a mildly insane shopkeeper. It took so much stubbornness to develop that kind of fight against restraint. Well, his mind went on, decidedly less corny and a lot more reluctant, it bode badly, since he'd have to get the kid to give up revenge and thus had to fight against the stubbornness. Outside there be dragons. Inside there be a pretty fiery dragon, too.
"You know what?" Ichigo snapped, going into the 145th strategy of getting let go. "I hate them, I hate your protection, I hate everything. I'll renounce it and go after the bastard. We can't just let them...."
"You'll do no such thing. The shinigami like you, but Central 46 does not. They will order your arrest and probably your death. And then we shall have people taking sides and confusion in Seireitei and nobody wants that. Not in the middle of the war."
"Fuck Central 46!" Urahara looked at him in the dark and scratched his head as images of the 46, old, wrinkled, ugly and pompous came to him unbidden.
As the literal meaning of the words came into collision with the other images, a Mental Image was formed. The blond grimaced. It was a Mental Image which shall be ignored for hereon. "Really? Are you going to ask Yamamoto and the Kuchikis, as well as Soi Fon and many others to fuck Central 46, too? Blow them away?" And that he had done on his own. Gah! Mental image. Mental image! Brain bleach. "It would be very messy" Mental effing image. Messy Central 46 fucked by.... Not going there. Not going there.
Too late. The Revenge of the Perverted Images was in full swing.
"I don't give a shit. I'll fight against them!"
Trying to push the images of half-naked wrinkly old members molested by Yamamoto, Soi Fon, Kuhikis and Zaraki, Urahara put an arm over the restrained body of his younger lover. He wanted to just let him go, really. He didn't have a fetish for binding. He never had it, and after the recent events he pretty much hated the idea of both being tied up and having somebody else at his mercy. But he enjoyed Ichigo's passion, his will, his wildness. His inner fire, burning with such high flames. It was so great, so strong and wild. "Ah, Ichigo. So youthful. So attractive.... So stupid. You can't beat the world by force." But he sometimes looked as if he might just be able to, if given half the chance. It was that look that was probably Urahara's undoing.
"Shut up. Stop mocking me." Ichigo ceased struggling, probably realizing that getting out of bakudou wasn't the easiest thing in the world. He was still very upset, but he'd grown a bit tired. Screaming, raging, kicking and pulling at your restraints for quite an amount of time was a good way to get less rash.
"I'm not, actually. I'm positively in love with your temper. And I assure you, I am not calm about these things myself. However, I'm not going to take out my sword and skewer Aaoyama. If I were to do that, it would be revenge. People would agree that I was wronged, but would they agree with my vendetta?"
Ichigo scowled. He seemed calmer, though, now that he realized Urahara was both aware that a grave injustice had been done and that he was actually talking to him. "Who cares?! Jeez. He did those things to you." Urahara found it strangely delightful that Ichigo didn't put a name on the events, even if all that had been told to him was just the basic rape, with all of the really fucked up details edited out. In fact, he'd edited them off of the videos, too. Deleted them forever, hoping to cleanse his own mind, but not really managing. Hell, what sort of a fucked up.... No, Ichigo would never know. It was his secret. And Yoruichi's.
He felt weary again, and dirty. Sick to his stomach.
The thought that he still wanted her, as a lover, came to mind, offering him an answer when he really wasn't expecting one. She was his Yoruichi, the one who could think so much like him. They fit like a hand and a glove and even though he'd just gotten out of Ichigo's bed, he realized he wanted to climb into hers for a different feeling, for a different understanding. He wanted her to be there, to offer herself to him as she knew how so well, to allow him to seek comfort and to not comment upon the fact that he was still bleeding on the inside, that he was hanging on by a thread at times. She was as himself. That was why she knew the entire tale and Ichigo did not.
He wanted them both. Was he allowed it? He didn't want to have to choose.
But, again, no time for falling into the dark pit that his soul was seeming to turn into. He had to keep sane. Keep functioning as usual. And hold those things back until the world was safe.
Yes, he was repressing. He had no clue what effect that would have in the long run, but he was sure to find out.
He smiled at Ichigo, realizing he had been spacing out for half a minute there.
"Now, now. Silence and listen. Not everybody would agree with my actions. Also, it would have the disadvantage of not having any extra advantages attached. In other words, it would lead nowhere. I could, indeed, kill Aaoyama.... There's no reason for you to look at me like that. It is, in fact, a course of action I did consider. The fact that he managed to have the upper hand in that instance was only due to my idiocy. You realize that, right, Ichigo? Don't say no, please. Good. I can guarantee that it won't happen a second time. Now, I will use this to strike not only against him, but against the Central 46. Not only against the man who raped me, but against those who employed him in the first place. The ones because of whom I had to leave Seireitei in the fist place – perhaps not because of the individuals, as such, but definitely because of them as a group, because of what the Central 46 is and has been for such a long time."
Urahara decided then that he wanted Ichigo to hear the word 'rape' and learn to use it when necessary, even if his blush when he heard it was endearing. Words had power. Especially words with a context, like that one, which would bring down Seireitei bureaucracy, if the blond had anything to do with it. Which he did. And, besides, he discovered he almost desperately wanted to be understood, at least partially. Have things in the open. "And I will use it to help your case, too. Trust me, Aaoyama will run when the waters are ruffled and he will try to get his trace lost when I'm done with the juridical system. He'll want to go far, far away. It is then, when he will wish to disappear, that I will make sure he disappears for good. But this will happen after he will be my tool."
He leaned down and tried to gaze into Ichigo's eyes. It was a bit difficult, seeing that there wasn't much light to go by, but he felt that he managed it well; that the boy wouldn't run off and do something foolish while Urahara was tearing the world apart. He didn't generally reveal his plots, in pretty much the same way he didn't reveal his inmost thoughts, but there were times when he felt a certain delight at doing so. For example, now, to this red-haired youth who was watching him wide-eyed, realization dawning like the Sun from the sea.
"Do you feel my intention to kill in my words?" he asked, hoping Ichigo caught the reference. And apparently, he did, because he could hear his breath hitch. Yes, this ex-captain was not a weakling, but a deadly, toying mastermind. And don't you forget it. "Good. I do not require your protection. I am capable of taking care of myself. As you are of taking care of yourself. Can I release you now without you bolting to kill my plot point?"
Ichigo nodded slowly and was let go. He got on his knees, rubbing his arms to get the feeling of reiatsu ropes off his skin. Urahara embraced him softly, carefully and kissed in a slow, gentle manner, almost apologetic for having deprived him of movement for that short while. Their lips barely touched before he pulled away. It was possibly just his own paranoid thoughts, but he didn't want to seem to be imposing his sexuality on Ichigo when he was weakened. He didn't want to have anything to do with the likes of Aaoyama, who took advantage of whatever chance they had. So unless Ichigo had a fetish for it, he wouldn't bring up the subject of bondage, or go too far in cases like this. Oh, in a battle, in a real struggle, on the training grounds, after they knew each other well enough, overpowering him and claiming his reward was definitely on. Both parties willing and all that. Like him and Yoruichi. Right now, however, he kept his distance and waited for feeling to return to Ichigo's limbs entirely.
"You understand why I don't want to be on the receiving side anytime soon, though, don't you?"
The younger man's shoulders tensed and Urahara watched him carefully, studying the play of expressions on his face. The rage came back, the desire to rush after Aaoyama and tear him to pieces.... But then, he forced himself to calm down.
"Yeah," he answered, softly, his shoulders slumping a bit.
"Good." The shopkeeper patted him fondly. He wanted to add something to that, to show his appreciation for Ichigo's getting it, but everything he could think of would sound corny, cliché, and from the 'young grasshopper' domain of lines, so he abandoned his intention.
"How did you end up having protection from the Soul King, anyway?"
"Oh. That. Long story." So much for not being a handbook of conversational clichés.
"We have time."
Urahara's eyebrows rose. Time? The major commodity he'd been complaining of in the previous period? They had Time? "Since when?! No, wait. Don't answer that. Fine. I'll tell you. 80 years ago, I was doing research on space, or more exactly, on spacial connections, bridges between two point of space. Like gargantas, if you like. Uniting the here with the there by a distance shorter than drawing a straight line. I chose to go to Siberia for research because it was a vast land with very little population and therefore there would be no problem hiding failed experiments. I had underground quarters, incidentally, which in hindsight might not have been the best idea, since my experiments kept bringing down everything on me. Of course, I didn't realize that it was the experiments until I had the roof and the snow down on me for the umpteenth time. I have failures too, I guess."
Ichigo was frowning and the blond wondered if he really was a good story teller, or if he'd managed to confuse his audience single-handedly. "Right, so, you were researching gates from world to world and bringing the house down. That it?"
"Yes. Except it can be gates from this world to this world, too. "
"So, what does this have to do with anything?"
"Getting there. So, one time, as I was digging myself up from my humble abode, I met Shincho, a most perplexed Shinigami."
"Don't you mean perplexing?"
"I was coming out from the mountain of snow like a mole. I'm quite certain I mean perplexed. We became friends, of sorts. And then I got the immunity from the Soul King."
Ichigo stared. Urahara offered him a grin in response. He'd sincerely meant to tell the entire tale, and still would tell it, but somehow seeing his expression when he said that was much more desirable at this given moment. He didn't know why, but getting various reactions from people amused him to no end. It might have been the scientist part of him, studying the explosive part of human nature. It might have been the trickster part of him, demanding that people should become confused and tricked. It might have been the perverted side of him, wanting to complicate things for those around him and watch them fume. Riled up, confused lovers were amazingly sexy, in his opinion. He guessed it wasn't the sort of opinion people generally had, but....
"And the connection is...?" Ichigo finally asked, when he realized he couldn't possibly win the stare vs. grin competition by any other way than words.
"I see you want the long version."
"I want the version that makes sense!"
"Oh, fine."
So Urahara launched into the considerably longer, more complicated – and, above all, more elucidating – explanation.
Under the cold Siberian sun, Urahara was happily trying to close down what could only be described as a wormhole between a spot where an entire flock of birds roosted and his bedroom. Waking up in feathers or worse really wasn't his idea of a good morning, but at least it meant that he could eliminate the distance between two points, so he could theoretically do it at the right time and the right places. The actual immediate result had been to get himself attacked by feathered things and covered in omelet, but who's counting. Anything for science. Working all night, trying your hardest, exhaustion and multiple pecks, showers and house cleanups were all in the job description.
Now, since it seemed to be working, all he had to do was apply his theory regarding the fourth dimension of space, which incidentally wasn't time, to inter-world equations and try to see if he could get himself where he wanted in any other world. Maybe Soul Society – or not, since he wasn't loved in that place. He could go to Hueco Mundo, or any other parallel reality, now.
He was interrupted from his dreamy thoughts upon equations by the sound of somebody approaching. He rose his eyes and smiled warmly, fully expecting to see Shincho. Instead, he saw a distinctly Kuchiki-looking person.
"Hello?" he said, losing the warmth of his favorite facial gesture and slipping into a tense stance bearing a non-committing tense smile. He had so many variations in the realm of this gesture that he would soon have to start naming them. The Idiot Smile. The Warm Smile. The Voodoo Smile. But, of course, he stayed focused on this newly arrived man. How many people ran around Siberia? Right. He had been warned.
"Hello," the man nodded. "Who are you?"
Well, wasn't that question a bitch. He'd go for the truth for now and run later, if necessary. "Urahara Kisuke. Taking a vacation in one of the most beautiful places in the world." He looked towards the place in which the not-quite-wormhole had been. No signs of it left. Good. "Currently bird-watching. And you are?"
"Kuchiki Aaoyama." He said it in the true manner of a noble of that family, the blond observed. With so much arrogance that you could swear that sooner or later the universe would finally do its duty and give the Kuchiki gods immortality and their very own tall mountain to reside on top of. Maybe they'd start glittering soon, like precious diamonds. Or the Sun goddess. Own-name activated sparkle that would lighten the room whenever they declared who they were. Urahara smiled wider.
"What a pleasure it is to meet a nobleman!"
"Really?" the man asked, throwing him a suspicious glance, possibly sensing the snicker behind the smile. Not that the blond could really be convinced to give a damn about not hurting his feelings. "Have you felt any disturbance in space around here?"
And, of course, Urahara responded with the utmost surprise. To which he added a tiny wee bit of offense, because people don't generally think of you as somebody they need to worry about if they think that you think that they were insulting you when they weren't. It was a tad complicated, true, but human psychology generally was. "What do you mean? Unless I am a disturbance to your space and you would like me to go. Do you want me to go? Am I bothering you?" That's when he realized that his nearly hyper reaction a moment ago contrasted to this one made him look more than mildly deranged.
"Hn? Why are you here, anyway?"
Might as well go for bi-polar reactions. So he grinned again. "Vacation. Far away from the maddening crowd and all that. I thought I saw some very interesting bird movements in this direction awhile ago and I came to investigate. Weellll, I came a longer way than I'd imagined. Still can't find the bloody things. It would appear they disappeared." They had disappeared, indeed, right into the kitchen, where they would be cooked. Tough luck for them.
"'s that so?..."
Urahara beamed at him. It was his non-genius smile, his 'misplaced idiot' smile that made his IQ look about half of what it actually was. Combined with the swinging moods.... He really needed to work on his people skills. Behind the face, however, he was measuring the Kuchiki up and down. He didn't seem as strong as the geniuses of that clan, nor did he appear particularly dangerous. He did appear violent and brutish, but those weren't particularly worrying characteristics when one had been a captain of the Gotei-13. Still, he was willing to bet it had something to do with Shincho. There weren't that many people who ran around Siberia.
"You should get away from here. It isn't a good place," the man said in a way that seemed to have been passed down from generation of bully to generation of bully. Well, it definitely wasn't a nice place to be, now that this person was here.
"Of couuurse," Urahara chirped back. "I had to get back soon, anyway. Well, I'll be off. Ta!"
He turned on his heels and started shunpo-ing in a random direction and planning a saner-looking personality. The Kuchiki didn't need the other to know that his quarters were in the area, he couldn't hang about uslessly, so the best solution was to just go away and return when it was safe to do so.
Shincho would be able to take care of himself, he was sure. So, a good personality that would suit him better than the mellow one he used to have.... Was his planning of this normal? He supposed not, but then again, he was a special kind of person. And as long as other people didn't start saying the same thing, he was fine.
////////////////
Later that day, when it should actually have been night, except Siberia tends to have its night hours messed up when compared to normal people's ideas about 10 pm being a good time for the sun to go down, Urahara entered his house only to find that not only had Shincho returned while he wasn't there, but he was being watched very carefully by a very attentive Yoruichi.
"Hello," he said, testing the waters.
"Kisuke," Yoruichi greeted him.
"Hello, Urahara-san." Shincho waved cheerfully. "I was just explaining to Shihouin-taichou that you cannot seem to stop singing her praises."
"In the hopes I'll get one eye off of him. Who is he, Kisuke?"
Ah, puzzling. Now that he thought about it, he realized he didn't know much about the other man. It felt almost amazingly stupid of him to have received Shincho in his home based on such little information, now that he thought about it. "I'm afraid I'm not entirely certain," he admitted, scratching his head. "Shincho-san is pretty secretive. But he is welcomed here."
Yoruichi scoffed. "Jeez, are you taking in strays again? One day somebody will stab you in the back and it's going to be entirely your fault." She didn't sound concerned, though. So much for being worried about those you love, he thought. Or maybe it was the fact that he wasn't either helpless or careless.
"Don't worry, he used protection," Shincho pipped in, a bit too cheerfully.
Urahara cringed and didn't bother to hide it. Oh, the wording, the wording. Wasn't it just perfect? Wasn't it just intentional of Shincho to do such a thing to him? Maybe the man was testing the waters, trying to figure out what sort of a love life Urahara had, considering his proposal that first night and his pining for Yoruichi the rest of the time. Really, Shincho couldn't be blamed for curiosity. But it still made the blond want to disappear under a bed or something of the sort. His sometimes feline lover looked between them and sighed loudly.
"...And he collects yet another victim," she said. "Honestly, are you ever going to change?" Then, towards Shincho, with some pity, "...you know he's a perverted man who will lose interest in you as quickly as he seduced you, no matter how godly sex is, right?"
Shincho put on a most amazed look, which turned into amusement very quickly. Here was yet another toyer with personalities, Urahara thought. Just brilliant.
"Actually, what I meant was that he sealed his room and experiments from me, although it's nice, even if a bit disappointing, to know that I escaped the fate of a most amazing one night stand."
"Oh." Yoruichi turned back towards Urahara, sighing. "Why didn't you say something? You just let me go on and say all those things for no reason."
"You would have thought I was trying to cover for myself." Urahara shrugged, then smiled and sat down on a corner of the couch. Shincho also relaxed and took a seat himself.
"...True," the cat woman admitted.
"Although I'm always honest about my ways," the blond continued. He always was! And she knew that. But they liked joking and playing around with each other, it was in their natures. So here they were, enacting a comedy/romantic sketch for no particular reason, but for their own and Shincho's benefit.
"Well."
"Even if you scold me." He tried to do the gallant eyebrow-wiggling thing that he'd heard was popular in the Occident, then realized it didn't work quite well with his looks.
"You shouldn't be playing with people's hearts like that." The eternal argument Yoruichi used. He wasn't sure whether it meant he shouldn't be playing with her heart like that or with the rest of humanity. But this was one of the serious comments. She meant it. And he supposed that she was right, but wasn't sure what needed to be changed. He'd figure it out, though. Eventually.
"Now, now, kitty-chan, you should know it's in my blood to play with people just as it is in your animal counterpart's to play with its food."
"Say that one more time and I'll scratch you until you'll look like a math notebook."
"Why, then we could use me for a very atypical Go board. It should prove interesting and quite challenging to...."
"Ah, true love," Shincho interrupted them. "Can we have something to eat now, Shihouin-taichou? I really wasn't kidding four hours ago when I said I was starving."
So they went to eat and gradually they adjusted to each other's presence.. Yoruichi put herself in charge of the food, saying that while anybody can wash the dishes, only the few should be privileged by actual contact with ingredients. Which might have been a reference to Urahara's pancake-sticking-to-the-ceiling incident. Or the explosive cabbage. Probably the second. It had been so hard to make the smell go away after that.
As Urahara and Yoruichi became gradually more and more interested in each other and less interested in Shincho, the man took the opportunity to retire early, claiming a desperate need to reacquaint himself with "The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire", which had to be one of the most transparent excuses in the history of mankind, not that either of the two were about to complain. And if he wondered how the blond's Casanova-like ways fit in with everything, he wisely kept the question to himself and possibly pondered about it when alone with his over-long, over-boring history book.
Yoruichi didn't have much time to spend with her favorite outcast, seeing as she still had responsibilities. Sometimes, she confessed that she too wanted to get away, but she was a noble, so she would be tracked down with much more enthusiasm than Urahara. Also, the search party after him had been led by her, so there was no surprise he had never been officially found. She would not have the same benefit if they made the Kuchiki clan and/or Soi Fon in charge of her own search party. She'd taught the girl enough things that she would eventually be capable of tracking down her captain and putting up a fight. They really would be runaways if she were to follow him. However, every once in awhile, she could run off to see him for a week or so.
////////
The last of Yoruichi's days was progressing calmly enough, the two lovers lost in recollecting something that didn't sound at all familiar to Shincho and neglecting him entirely, as these things happen, as he read what appeared to be "Holinshed's Chronicles", a notable work concerning the history of England, Ireland and Scotland. Well, notably long, tedious and apparently outdated some few enough years after being published. And it had been published sometime in the 16th century – true, it had served as inspiration for some Shakespeare plays, but it was by far a work of major interest only to weird scholars.
And right now, he was barely containing his laughter, reading about "El zeunbour" - a name given to a very specific part of the female anatomy when it was covered in very stingy hair. You might wonder what it had to do with England, Ireland and Scotland. Or you might be surprised to find such a strange thing in a history book. Well, that is because while Shincho was using a cover saying "Holinshed's Chronicles, vol. 1", he was actually reading what distinctively looked like an unofficial illustrated edition to the "Perfumed Garden" (written in the 15th century, so very vaguely in the same period as the cover suggested). Note: the "Perfumed Garden" is pretty much what the Kama Sutra would be if the non-non-sex-related parts were removed. The exact chapter that Shincho was reading with much interest at the moment was "Sundry Names Given to the Sexual Organs of Women", and he was econsidering his reading choices. After all, it wouldn't do to be caught reading objectionable books in somebody else's home. Even if they're theoretically classics.
But the lazy, objectionable afternoon was interrupted by the appearance of a woman who barged in as if she owned the place and nearly reached Shincho before Yoruichi and Urahara caught up with her and placed their weapons against her neck and heart. She wore a shinigami garb, not that that said much, had her hair in a pony tail and her eyebrows knitted in a scowl as she touched Benihime's blade.
"Shichi!" Shincho cried, surprised and delighted at the same time and snapping his non-history book shut.
"Who is she and why is she here?" Yoruichi demanded. Her eyes were narrowed dangerously – she wasn't the sort of woman who agreed with other people storming her territory. Incidentally, Urahara himself and all his belongings were part of that territory, so she was taking it quite personally.
"My, my, it would appear my home is becoming as open and crowded as the Grand Central Station," Urahara added in his sing-song voice, but without putting on the idiot act. The voice really was his own, he decided. Something personal, deep, honest. Unlike the idiot smiles.
"She's with me," Shincho explained, approaching the trio and looking more and more serious as he realized this was not a social call. "Although I can't help but wonder what she's doing in here. Eh?"
"He's here," the woman said, then looked at the other two, who of course noticed that she didn't seem to be impressed by their threats, just mildly annoyed. "Who are these people, sensei?"
"Friends. Who's here? Here where?" As the words in the question were underlined, it became obvious even to the woman that no part whatsoever of her laconic statement was anywhere near helpful.
"Your little brother, sensei. He's … around."
Urahara listened to the way she said it, analyzing every detail of her voice and her intonation, as well as her words. He couldn't quite pinpoint it. There was more than simple respect there. Adoration, he thought. Maybe love. She was very careful about her phrasing, and there was also the sensei, so they couldn't be in a relationship. Unless it was a kinky one. No, there was the respect. It didn't go well with kinkiness. Besides, this was a serious matter, apparently, so it couldn't be some coy foreplay. Shincho himself seemed very warm towards her, very open and giving. Yes. And that rang a bell. Contradictions, adoration, different status. Respect and following a person a very far way off to give a message of warning. Ding-dong.
"Soi Fon," he breathed with a sigh and only realized he'd said that out loud when Yoruichi looked at him. He shrugged. If she got the reference, then why would she give him the evil eye for noticing the resemblance?
"Wha-?" the woman demanded, finally reacting to the non-Shincho entities in the room. "What's a soifon?"
"She's a person we both know," Urahara answered with a shrug. "I was just saying we could lower our swords now, ne? Shincho-san?" The man nodded.
And so the two hosts relaxed, putting away their blades (but not too far away) and waiting for an explanation that the woman didn't appear about to give, but that Shincho seemed to be searching his words for.
"Um." Their first guess looked at them, opening and closing his mouth several times in the eternal gesture of a person who is rephrasing a long, long story. "Would you mind helping us? You're both captain class, after all and.... Shichi, how did the situation look?"
"We could use two extra pairs of eyes, sensei. And two captain-level shinigami even more. It really is your little brother. And it would appear he has company. So, yes, if anybody else wants to come, we have use for them. There's people to face, methinks." Gods, that woman could ignore, Urahara noticed. She seemed to have forgotten yet again about anything but the man before her as she talked about them as if they weren't even there. She didn't spare them a glance, she didn't consider asking them anything. She was worse than Soi Fon, he decided.
"Such as?"
"I don't know their names. One of them seemed to be Kuchiki Aaoyama and another may have been Aizen Sousuke, but I have no inkling as to the others. Not captains, nor vice-captains, nor nobles either. That much I know." Urahara counted on his fingers, trying to figure out who could be Shincho's little brother. He came up empty-handed, no clue as to the possible identity whatsoever. In league with Aizen.... That boded badly.
"Shouldn't be a bother, then." Not worried about somebody captain-level and a Kuchiki? Something didn't sound quite right to the scientist's ears. He felt bad when thinking of Aizen and that damnable clan, that was sure.
"Still, keeping them in check might prove difficult. What do you plan to do, sensei?"
Shincho sighed. "Try to get him to see sense."
"Good luck with that." She snorted. "So.... are we going on a hunt?"
"Yes, dear."
She positively glowed with joy. "Hurray! Let's go!"
She darted out, reminding Urahara of nothing as much as an overgrown puppy that somebody had just announced they were going for a walk. At the same time, a little light bulb appeared in his head and turned on with a ping noise. There was something odd in the woman's attitude. The way she ignored, the way she acted. The puppy-like hyperactivity just now. It was answered quite nicely by the following observation: she was dead tired and pretending not to be. She had something eating at her and she wasn't as good an actor as he was.
Shincho gave Urahara and Yoruichi a half-grin, which didn't much help either of them understand what was going on. But if Aizen was in it, and a Kuchiki was thrown in, too, then there was definitely trouble aboard.
"So, wanna help?" Shincho asked. "I need to recover little brother. He's dangerous, so watch out."
The two other shinigami shared a look, then agreed to aid, even if it was just to see what was going on. The blond thought to himself that his non-asking policy was a pretty bad idea and he'd have to change it soon. So they left along with Shincho, going out the door and noticing that Shichi was still there, waiting for them and looking a lot less hyper than she had seemed inside. Yes, the tiredness was catching up with her. But the other Shi-person didn't seem to notice her state, or didn't care. Or didn't want to say anything because of some silent convention between them.
"They're joining!" the woman noticed. "Brilliant. So, you made friends, sensei?"
"Yes."
"Your friends, my friends, then."
About time she stopped treating them as furniture, Urahara thought. No matter how exhausted she was. She did seem that way, having dark circles under her eyes. She also looked very determined and, as the blond observed her as closely as he dared, she gave a small sniff..
"Yeah, so," she began talking again. "I've got two wolves running about and finding his exact location, sensei. So, there's four of us and a few of my pack." She looked at the two, studying the two non-Shincho for the first time. "You're captain level, aren't you?"
Now she noticed. "Yes," Urahara replied. He wondered whether to give her the Idiot Smile and decided against it – Shichi looked intelligent and strong and, as far as he knew women, she'd have his head for acting unlike what she wanted him to act like.
"Neat," she said, seeming to warm up to Urahara just enough for them to make some semblance of human contact. He prepared to say something, but she went ahead before him. "We're so awesome, we need a theme song. I always wanted a villain song." ...and that was where she lost him entirely and he could just tell he'd been accidentally coaxed into a false sense of security. "I'm not a villain, at least, I don't think I am, but I always wanted something to underline my bad-ass-ery, know what I mean?"
The others stared at her. Urahara turned his head to look at Shincho, to see if this was normal behavior and observed that he too wore a puzzled expression, but not exactly a surprised one. So it happened, or something akin to this happened, often enough.
"Not really," the man admitted.
"You know, like opera," she said. "Like great poetry. A speech emphasizing our complete awesomeness and how much damage we can do put to verse. Awesome. Impressive. Frightening."
Urahara winced, having a sudden image of shouting and shield-waving flutter in front of his eyes. Shincho saw his disbelieving and pained face and mouthed towards him, She's a linguist. Which explained nothing and rose further questions. Such as why she'd chosen that as a career/hobby. Why Shincho had mouthed it instead of explaining it. And why it had any relevance whatsoever on the subject matter. Meanwhile, Shichi was getting herself all wound up in a reciting passion of what seemed to be adapted verses.
"Hail, horrors! Hail, infernal world! And you, profound Hell, welcome your new mistress! With sword and clang, we shall tear apart those who stand against us and take over heaven!... You know. Villain song. Villain speech. Villains always get the show of power."
"Why do I have the feeling you already have something you want to perform?" Shincho asked with a sigh. Urahara wondered why he had this feeling that his day was just about to turn from weird to worse.
"Why, I'm so glad you asked," Shichi replied, then paused for a second, as if remembering something. "Come on, let's move. My wolves found the track. And we shall advance singing. Or at least, I'll sing. I can't picture you as knowing the lyrics just yet. Especially since I haven't told you anything about them."
And thus, they ran. It was good that they did, because it was something easily understandable, unlike somebody's motivation for wanting to sing. Urahara kept expecting her to burst into song, but discovered that she was in no hurry to do so. He also wondered how she was like when she wasn't insane with tiredness, as she appeared to be now. Overworked and pretending not to be – it was a domain the blond knew much about, so he recognized the signs.
Instead, he noticed that they had a fifth silent companion, then a sixth and a seventh. Wolves, large, grey, fierce, running next to them from shadow to shadow. The second thing he noticed was that they weren't as silent as he'd supposed at first. The way their feet touched the ground … it was almost a rhythm, soft, soft, soft, hard. It was almost, but not quite, silent. They touched the ground and then they didn't, there were swishes ... three swishes … between the hard hits. Swish, swish, swish, thud. It got stronger as other wolves joined them.
Battle drums, Urahara thought. They didn't sound like drums, true, but they had the same role. It was a lot of paws falling against something hard at the right time. In unison. He saw Yoruichi start as she realized the same thing as him. He had no idea how Shichi managed her little trick, but he got the feeling that his lover knew and had more than a simple passing thought about it.
Shichi was leading them, determination on her face, seemingly ignoring the rhythmic sounds. Shincho, on the other hand, fell a bit behind to explain the situation to his two new friends. That sounded helpful.
"She hates my little brother, you know," he said. "Deeply. It's as if she burned for him in all the wrong ways."
"I can hear you, you know," Shichi cried, from up front, turning her head and glaring.
"Of course you can. I never meant for you not to hear me."
"Hm. Well. Yes. I do hate him. Who wouldn't hate that lying, treacherous bastard." Thud, Urahara noticed. She had rhythm in her speech. "I loathe him with every little part of my self." Thud. "There can't be no art of hate I ain't mastered." Thud. "That for him I'd leave lying around on a shelf." Thud.
A wolf growled.
"Beware of my murderous passion." Thud. Whisper of growls through the wolves. "My intentions as pure as the mud. Soon I'll cut him up--no compassion. Then I'll paint the moon red with his blood."
"Come now, Shichi. Do try to calm down, eh? He's my brother, after all," interfered Shincho, half-heartedly. He probably felt the thing coming up. Urahara felt it, too. This was it. It had what passed for drums and rhythm and rhyming.... There was no way to avoid it, he supposed. A villain song was on its way and he hoped it would be less embarrassing than it strongly hinted at being – but either way, it was one of those things you could pull out at parties and keep telling the tale of with different details every time without people minding, so it all leveled out in the end, he supposed.
"You ask me to be a strong woman, sensei. I'm not sure it is a wish I can grant, But at worst I'll rip him open the next day, And today I'll go on with my chant."
There was a yelp from a wolf that was sort of musical, and then a second one happened and soon they were trying to build up a melody – and idea that worked much better in theory than reality, although, as far as intimidation went, Urahara was starting to be afraid from sheer uncanniness.
"I'll tell you what," growled Shinchi and a few much more animal growls joined hers. "Beware of my mur-derous passion! My intentions – they're as pure as the mud! Soon, I'll tear him apart, NO compassion, Then I'll paint the moon red with his bloooood!"
Needless to say, the last word prompted an enthusiastic wolfish chorus and some attempt at … evil laughter?
"Shichi, we'll never catch him if you make this noise and...."
"Sensei, I can tell you're concerned of my tracking, I can tell that you wonder what's wrong, But I...."
Urahara spotted the human figure just about then. And apparently, so did Shichi, because her song ended in a wolfish snarl as she rushed to the man. Kuchiki Aaoyama was right under them, raising his hands to throw some kidou. Shichi growled and shunpo-ed down to him, slamming him against the trunk of a tree. The wolves gathered around them in a circle, ready to strike, song forgotten.
"You made me forget my rhyme," she growled. "Prepare to die."
"You bitch!" Aaoyama shouted, apparently believing that he needed to do something as stupid and as clichéd as that to fit in with the entire scene. Or maybe the mood of general insanity had rubbed off of him for no real reason. "You daughter of a whore, you...."
Shichi eyed him dispassionately. "Shut up, squished testicle that I scraped from the sole of my shoe, you have not yet mastered the art of insulting--and I find you petty." She hadn't mastered the art of singing, that was very true, but apparently the art of insulting was polished – too much use? the blond ex-captain wondered. This was getting interesting, even if it was still confusing and he was pretty much assisting to Somebody Else's Problem.
Aaoyama opened his mouth to reply to the insult and moving slightly as he thought of the proper thing to say. Before he could figure it out, though, his eyes landed on Shincho and widened.
"You." He nearly spat the word, Urahara noticed. It held just that sort of combined amount of hatred and surprise and disbelief that one generally saves for the zombie of one's mother in law. Then he turned to look at the people with Shinchi, noticing Urahara. "And you!" It was more disbelief, less hatred, also add confusion. Ice cream stand at the North Pole sort of thing, the blond supposed.
"Me, too," Yoruichi said, waving. "Hi."
"You!" Very much disbelief, little hatred, an ounce of betrayal. Not quite Et tu, Brute, but somewhere in the realm of And you, ice cube maker, why are you having an affair with the ice cream stand man at the North effing Pole? You were supposed to be dating my sister!
"I'd been aiming to avoid the 'you' reaction," she said, yawning. "Tough luck, eh?"
"Hello, everybody! Kuchiki-san, please avoid calling pronouns in the near future, ne?"
Urahara looked up to see the person who spoke—and blinked. The man was.... The man looked.... He turned his head to look at Shincho. The man looked exactly like that. He was reminded of a magic trick he had seen some time ago, involving a few mirrors and some.... But no. No tricks. No magic. They were identical. Identical twins, he realized. Same jaw, same eyes, same nose, same eyebrows, hell, even the haircuts were beyond similarity and well into the domain of same-ness. Little brother was in no way somebody younger than Shincho, Urahara thought. You didn't have much of an age difference when you looked like that.
Their clothes, however, differed. Where Shincho was still dressed as if taking a stroll in an autumny Berlin was the next thing on his agenda, the brother seemed more context-savvy, being wrapped up in a fur coat from shoulders to feet. While there was much left to the imagination under that garment, Urahara just knew that if you were to undress them, they would be incredibly similar in body, too.
He chased the thought away before it got him into the wrong state of mind. Naked twins, indeed.
"What are you doing here, Hikaru?" Shincho asked.
"Takin' a stroll, Shincho. Checkin' up on the living. And on spirit-related issues."
Their voices were also incredibly similar. Their tonality, too. They were like the same person, mirrored. Or the same person, with one of himself sent back into the past to have a conversation with his not much younger persona. But then the younger brother broke the reflection, smirking in a way that Shincho never had done – at least, to Urahara's knowledge and intuition. It was a dark expression, bitter, even pained. It was wintry and cold. Sarcasm without a reason, without a word, floating between them like the Siberian cold.
"Let's not beat 'round the bush," Hikaru said. "Ya know pretty damned well why I'm here and I know what you are doing here."
Shincho extended his arms in a gesture that was more than a bit theatrical and which brought a scowl from his brother. "Come home. Please."
"I don't have a choice, do I? Ya'll drag me away, no matter what my answer'd be."
"Don't be like that."
"Like what? Honest?"
"You're being childish."
Hikaru shrugged. "Maybe. I don't really give a damn. Fine, I'll allow myself to be taken home, like a good little kid. I'll be nice and obedient. That's what ya want, isn't it? An' ya can just go stroke your ego until ya come and screw up the entire universe while ya're at it. 'Cause I can't really stop ya, can I? Hell, you never give a shit about my input."
"I see things differently, that's all. You're being too tragic about it."
"So we agree to disagree."
"...Yes."
"Forever."
It was like watching ping-pong on TV, Urahara decided. Not related to yourself, not really something you can understand the profound subtleties of and yet interesting.
"Don't be dramatic, Hikaru."
"Don't be this, don't be that. Is there anything I'm allowed ta be?"
"You're acting like a spoiled, rotten...." Shichi started, but Hikaru's gaze darted towards her very fast and she stopped, seeming to remember herself.
"Wild thing.... Don't worry, nobody'll ever know ya're being rude towards blue blood. Who's gonna tell anybody ya're being way too familiar? I don't mind and Shincho would never be a miser, so go ahead. Speak."
Urahara felt that it was going to be a long enough night. Was there any seat available while this batter went on? Any low, conveniently horizontal branch?
"Talking about speaking...." Yoruichi said, looking Aaoyama up and down. "I trust that somebody else also knows to keep his mouth shut?"
Shincho looked at the Kuchiki family member (currently bristling) and then at Urahara, who cocked his head in an expression in which he tried to convey all his willingness to get rid of a problem, if need arose.
"Why?" Aaoyama asked. "What are you gonna do to me if I reveal the events here?"
"You might go to bed fine and wake up dead, pardon the contradiction in terms," Urahara said, smiling towards a bit too widely. Bearing his teeth. He was a former captain and also a former member of the second division. Murder was part of the job description, surely the fool knew that? Second thought, he hadn't known him all those days ago and his name hadn't been mentioned in the mean time, so the you was probably connected not to his runaway status, but to his image of half-insane bird watcher.
"Yeah? Well, fuck you."
"Not even if you ask nicely. Yoruichi deserves me to behave better than dirty myself with the likes of you."
"Ooh, nice one there, Urahara-taichou," Shichi nodded her approval. The blond realized that it was the first time she was actually giving him her full attention. Swearing got her interested, eh?
"Urahara?!" Aaoyama said, eyes as wide as saucers. "But.... you're.... she's...."
"Never put a person's lover in charge of bringing them to justice," the blond said, quite sweetly. Poisoned candy sweet. Aaoyama squirmed and then, yet again, chose the worse way to get out of the situation, mainly talking too loudly and trying to press an advantage he didn't have.
"Whaat?! Wait until Seireitei hears of this!"
"Lucky that they never will."
Quicker than the eye could see, especially when one wasn't expecting it, Hikaru grabbed Aaoyama away from Shichi, who hadn't been holding him too carefully, not seeing any reason to, and did what pretty much amounted to pushing him away towards a suddenly opening Senkaimon, then throwing himself in Shichi's path and catching her in his arms as she almost managed to retrieve Aaoyama.
"No!"
She growled, but the moment was gone and the gate closed as fast as it had opened. She twisted away out of the man's arms, burning with rage.
"You're not gonna kill him because he's seen these two here," Hikaru said. "You are not. I order you to stay put. Do you hear me? I command you!"
Urahara could practically see the hairs on her head stand up as she prepared either to attack the man or to rush after her former captive.
"Wait, Shichi," Shincho said. She turned towards him, breathing hard, between her teeth.
"HE!" she growled. Then towards Hikaru. "I hate you. Never touch me again. Never interfere with me again. I will tear you to pieces. Mark my words, if I get the chance, I'll drive my blade through your heart with no regret."
"Damn," Yoruichi swore against Urahara's ear as the scene unfolded before them. "This is gonna be trouble."
"Yeah, it is," Hikaru agreed. "He's gonna rat on ya, and then ya'll have to run like no tomorrow and chances are they'll catch the both of ya and organize a little execution or something of the sort. Whadda ya say, Shincho? 'M I right?"
His brother was upset, but instead of going into a rage, as one might have expected, he was actually very calm. And cold. "You did that to force my hand."
"I was merely provin' my point. We need to get involved! Ya've gotta stop aimin' at the bloody stars when there's trouble right here, right now, when ya're neglecting the duties that are rightfully yours."
"Some things are better left alone."
"Yeah. Right." Hikaru snorted. "Come up with an axiom like that, won't ya? At least, let me take action in the direction I wanna take action in and you can do whatever ya want."
"No."
"See? This is why we don't get along...."
Urahara cleared his throat. It was about time to say something, because this was too much to follow if one didn't know at least a bit of the story.
"Sorry to interrupt, but what's going on?"
"Oh, ya don't know?" Hikaru grinned. "How have you been spelling your fake name, Shincho?" And then, towards the company, "'cause, ya know, only Akio is his real name. And even that.... How did you spell Akio?"
Shincho's eyes narrowed, but he answered anyway. "Akio – bright, man. Shincho – forest, bird."
"Yeah, well," Hikaru grinned. "Ya always lacked creativity when it came ta names. Our parents were into shiny names. Call a kid 'radiance' and the other 'bright king'. It's not 'bright man', you know. Different 'o'. As for his fake name, it's a description. He adapted it to read 'forest bird', but it's actually 'new leader'. Ain't that right, Spirit King? It amuses ya ta let Shichi run about and do some linguistics on your fake identities."
Urahara's eyebrows shot up. Talk about unexpected development! The Spirit King? All this time, he had been keeping the King, the King, the untouchable King, in his underground, collapsing lair? Wasn't he locked away in some other dimension, always impenetrable, untouchable, far from the regular shinigami, too god-like to mingle, to be seen?
Gods, he'd asked the ruler of all shinigami to sleep with him.
This was the King?
No, he couldn't quite believe it, it couldn't be here, not just walking about the world and stepping into people's lives! He was supposed to have a retinue and bodyguards and to announce his comings and going with all the majesty his rank demanded. He was supposed to be.... Well, so much beyond normal people.
He looked at Shincho again, re-evaluating the opinions he'd formed about the man. Hidden reiatsu? Yes. He'd assumed there had been a decent quantity of it, about vice-captain level. Maybe he had been wrong?... Then, charismatic, nice, pleasant, polite. Could work for a King, too, he supposed.
He realized yet again that he had neglected finding out many things about his guest. If he really was the King, then he had hidden it well, while still seeming a very agreeable person. Did it fit a royal's description?
Yes. Maybe.
"What we have here is a royal family melodrama," Hikaru continued. "Our great and most esteemed father had twins, always a sign of bad luck in our family line. We never got along very well as kids – you could say I was the black sheep of the family. And then we grew up and not much changed. We still have very different opinions. So we keep fighting. I'm trying to usurp the throne, ya know. At least, that's what they say."
Urahara blinked and considered. Did that sound likely?... No, but it was possible, he supposed. And Shincho wasn't arguing about it. So. These people. These three that had just appeared out of nowhere. He didn't know them. Yoruichi didn't know them. They were strong enough. There was something wrong with those wolves and that song. And the linguistics, the whole idea. Yes, it was plausible. One look at Yoruichi confirmed the fact that she was inclined to believe this, too. She still seemed to know something extra, though.
"Our main divergence point is internal politics," Hikaru went on. "Basically, we're talkin' about Seireitei here. Whether we should or whether it's better to keep stayin' aloof. I'm sayin' interfere. Brother says stayin' away is better. I frankly think that the incredibly bad legal and administrative system is pretty much a proof of our interference being needed, but, really, how can I oppose Shincho, eh? He's the King. I'm nothing more than a prince. And do ya know what the bitch is? As long as he's alive, I can't take his job. And as long as he doesn't have an heir, I can't leave and have a nice noble family of my very own, either. I'm trapped."
"It's not exactly an uncomfortable trap," Shichi pointed out and Urahara realized with just a bit of a jump that it had been his turn to forget her presence. "Listen, do we have to have this entire revealing conversation here? We should just be going back home. And maybe you can stay this time."
"Shichi, there's only one reason I'd stay there, and that's you." Hikaru grinned. "Ya're lovable. But the fact is, I don't want ta come back. Still, revealin' the entire drama to these two poor people ya dragged here for no reason whatsoever is necessary. Let them know what is going on behind the scenes, let them know how the brothers fight and one of them is being a stuck up idiot and the other only wants what he thinks is right for himself."
Shincho glared. "Don't turn yourself into some sort of unsung hero, brother."
"Why not? Somebody has ta sing my praises. I'm not like you, ta have people bowing to me left and right and enjoying every little bit of my sunny disposition. I never was sunny. And I don't have very faithful underlings whom I take advantage of by encouragin' feelings I'll never repay. That's what ya're doin' with Shichi, isn't it? You toy with her, raise her hopes and then leave her hangin' for nothing at all."
"Oi," the aforementioned woman said, not pleased at all. "Don't go into territory you don't have a clue about."
"But that's just the thing, ain't it? I do have a clue about it. You compensate, it's true, with God only knows how many lovers and linguistics, of all things. But I'd have ta be blind not ta notice."
"I am my own woman. Do not presume that I will allow you to make me into a victim. I am too strong to be a victim."
"Come on. Ya know as well as anybody else that we all have our weak spots. Yours is Shincho, with his brightness – frankly, I'm not sure I blame ya, he's pretty brilliant, even if I'm loathe to admit it. And ya're his, but not for love. He just enjoys having a willing slave."
"That's enough, little brother," Shincho warned. "She's nothing of the sort. Let's return."
Hikaru shrugged, then stretched, popping a bone or three. "Ya're right. We should return. But ya know what? Listen here. You know what? What I really want now … is pie."
There was a moment of silence as everybody tried to digest that information and to come with some conclusion as to why, exactly, it was there and what it had to do with anything. Hikaru started grinning and, just as Shincho was opening his mouth to comment, possibly on the other's randomness, he continued that thought.
"If ya'd been the one ta say that, Shincho, she'd have gone and got it. Out of devotion. All three of us know it. And ya love it. The fact that she'd do it for ya as a man, not as a king. Not even your happily wedded wife'd be like that. Usin' her."
"My choices are my own," Shichi pointed out. "I am not unhappy. I am not used. This is what I want. I would thank you not to intrude upon my personal business."
"Well, I was trying to say ya could be happy and my idiot, advantage-seekin' brother isn't lettin' ya. This, however, appears ta be his only fucked up trait and ya don't mind, so you can go on messing each other up for as long as ya want, even if I resent it. Anyway, I believe my timing is off. The best of my revealin' words have already been said and I'm goin' to have ta start babblin' now."
"Sorry?" Shincho asked, blinking.
"Timing. My timing's off. I was supposed ta finish speaking in a dramatic, revealing pose and flash of light. Guess not this time, though."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Shichi growled. "Those things don't happen out of nowhere."
As if she was the one to speak, Urahara thought, remembering an episode that had happened very, very recently and which also didn't happen out of nowhere in reality. Apparently, Hikaru had the same thoughts.
"No, they don't. But neither do musicals and your number with the wolves was an interestin', if rather unrehearsed strange event."
"I'd been planning that! It didn't just happen, you know. then that Aaoyama stopped it and pissed me off!"
"It's kind of obvious, dear. You always loved a dramatic pose. Pretty much like me and brother here. Perhaps that is why...."
There was a flash of light all of a sudden and everybody ducked to the ground, hearing a very loud, curse-like "Gah! Timing!" from the royal prince. It was over as soon as it began, but Urahara's retina had been burnt so badly that he couldn't see much that wasn't spotted over. He heard a snarl and supposed it was Shichi, or Shichi's wolves, and a cry of pain and some cursing and he snapped back to back with Yoruichi, blinking to try to regain his eyesight and careful to sense any reiatsu close to him.
There didn't seem to be anybody, though. As his eyes cleared gradually, he finally got to see Shichi's shape bowing down over Shincho, feeling him up from the look of it. It was a very strange way to continue a very strange day and he was just considering either getting his brain checked or trying to sprout wings and fly, because that was one of his favorite things to do when he was dreaming, when he finally figured out that she was inspecting an injury he'd gotten somehow.
"Somebody there was an escapologist," she growled. "I felt about three people. Gah! I'm such a bloody idiot. Should've realized something was wrong. Sensei?"
"He got my stomach," the man answered. "I tried to block, but brother beat me to it. He was always good with kidou. Too good."
"Stay down, sensei," Shichi urged. "Please. I need to heal you."
Urahara felt like nothing more than a spectator, standing inside a play instead of watching it from a safe distance. He didn't know what to do, so he didn't act in any way. It felt a bit like dropping in on story characters. The Spirit King, his brother, a melodrama and a woman who had a villain song.
He turned towards Yoruichi.
"This stuff beats my story of leaving Seireitei by a long shot," he noticed. "I feel so small."
"Tell me about it," she answered, staring at Shichi healing Shincho. "By the way, we still have a pretty big problem on our hands. I'm going to be in trouble this time, too."
They continued to watch the other two, though, despite the fact that it was probably the time to rush off, pack and establish a safe spot somewhere. Every second counted. Still, they couldn't pry themselves away, apparently.
"You're quite good at this," the King murmured. "Healer's hands."
"You've got to know a trick or two, sensei. I'm only glad to serve."
"My wife isn't thrilled by how well you take care of me."
"I'm afraid that I am unwilling to oblige her by doing less than I am capable of."
Married, Urahara thought. Was that why he'd been refused?
Oh, gods, he'd proposed a one night stand to the bloody King, who was now injured. What a horrid day, not getting out of bed ever again seemed like such a good idea.
"I know. Well, then. An escapologist. Do you two Seireitei people know anybody who could fit that description?"
The ex-captain's very well-filed memory felt the question more than heard it and started searching for the right information, while making connections inside his head fast. He could see Aaoyama, searching for power, siding with Aizen Sousuke, who had so much to offer. And in Aizen's group there was, always smiling, always creepy, that fox-like person, Ichimaru Gin. Trickster, people believed, though they were never sure what his game was. Maybe this time, it was escapology. It would fit his personality traits well enough.
"Gin," he said, out loud. "Ichimaru Gin. It might be him."
"Grey hair, really thin?" Shichi asked. She was pale and even more tired than before, and also frantic, almost hyperventilating, despite Shincho obviously being in no danger.
"Yes."
"I think I saw his file. So. We should be heading back, sensei. I'll think of a trap to get past this Gin. Gah, how I hate people like him. I can find you anybody in this world, anybody at all, sensei, track them down until there's nowhere to hide. But they can always run. I'm not fast. Why am I not fast? I'll have to work harder. You! Yoruichi. You're called the flash goddess, right? Can you teach me a thing or two? I've got nothing to offer in return...."
"We need to head back," Shincho interrupted. "But first.... Urahara-san, I'm afraid my presence here has caused you much trouble. And you, too, Yoruichi-san. Therefore, the least I can do is offer some aid. I do not agree with interfering in Seireitei's business. What you do there is your own problem. A long time ago, the shinigami who later formed the first members of the Central 46 asked for freedom. They got it and you'll still have it even if things go bad with you. Otherwise, it wouldn't be freedom, eh? Without responsibilities, it would only be childishness. So as long as you do not fail entirely and collapse the system, you have freedom from the Royal House. But I am the King. As such, I will offer you an order stating your immunity and Yoruichi's immunity from the legal system, as far as felonies are not concerned. Yes?"
"Thank you very profoundly, your majesty."
"No, don't do that when we are in private. Errr.... You look as if you actually had something very relevant to say."
"Well... Yes. What if Yoruichi and I split up? What if I get another lover? Will I have to ask for immunity again, lest that person be considered a traitor and chased around the world?"
Shincho smiled, getting up from the ground and leaning on Shichi for support. "What a tedious mind you have. Very well. I'll change that part. Shichi, pen and paper please. How does "Urahara Kisuke and any lover that he might have" sound to you?"
The blond grinned happily and saw Yoruichi give him a small smile, too. Also, a so you're going to be sleeping around, then look, too. He wasn't sure whether it was annoyed or amused, though. "It sounds amazing. Thank you so very much, Your Majesty."
"Yes, well.... Shichi, no chance of catching up with them now?"
"They'd just get away again. I need a trap. Alright, we need to get back home. Urahara Kisuke. I'll return soon enough and establish a contact method between you and me, with possibility to talk to sensei, because you seem to be close? Is that alright, sensei?"
"Very good, yes."
"Then we're going. Sorry about the rush, but I need to consider his safety, just in case that escapologist has some traps. You guys, on the other hand, will probably be fine. This is a family matter, so you shouldn't be bothered by anybody."
The King opened a gateway to his own world and, without much further ado, they stepped through and disappeared, leaving Urahara and Yoruichi to simply stare behind them.
"That was rushed," the blond commented.
"Yes. And that woman.... She was.... Gods, she was a...."
"She was strange," Urahara nodded. Yoruichi stared at him.
"Strange? Of course she was strange!"
"Hey, where's all the wolves?"
"There weren't any to start with."
"What?! But...."
"Pay more attention to your surroundings, idiot. They weren't real wolves. They were things she'd conjured. That's how she'd gotten them to act in a certain way, they were...."
"What?!"
"Can't you tell? What was different about her? What her relationship was with … with him?"
"Well, she called him sensei."
"Baka. Yes, she called him that. But it meant more."
"In what way?"
"So you can't tell. Then it isn't my place to tell you, either. If you can't figure it out...."
"I don't get it."
"Well, I'll tell you this much. You know how I'm independent and do things the way I like them and am quite relaxed about the rules?"
"My, Yoruichi, I wasn't aware you knew you were such."
"I know myself. So. What can I say? She is entirely my opposite."
"I've noticed. She bore a resemblance from this point of view to your Soi Fon. So?"
Yoruichi sighed. "No, I don't think you really understand. It's a rather weird situation." She paused, started to say something more, then stopped. "But it's been a really weird time, hasn't it? Never mind all that. Some things aren't mine to tell.... Well, let's go back, gather what we can and leave for someplace far, far away, just in case Aaoyama tells Seireitei where to find us and that immunity is forgotten about. If nothing at all happens, I can come up with some lame excuse for being late. If you are granted the thing, I'll come spend some time with you. A lot of it."
Urahara gave her a small smile. "That's one good thing out of this entire hubbub. I was getting quite lonely."
Naturally, the letter concerning Urahara (and lovers) appeared not much later, puzzling Seireitei. People wondered about it for quite awhile, seeing that the "for services to the King" reasoning was more than just a little vague, but it had all the seals and signs and whatnots proving its sender was whom he said to be. Yoruichi was late in returning and claimed that she had desperately wanted to see American Bisons, so she'd taken a detour back. She got away with it, since people apparently believed that this was greatly typical of her (it wasn't, really, but you don't argue too strongly against people believing your alibi for whatever reason).
After some time, she ran off for good, leaving behind a letter saying she had had an affair with said Urahara since pretty much forever, thing which was confirmed by a miserable Soi Fon, who declared she had never approved of that man (big surprise, there). And the world took a few other turns, which led to becoming what it was right now. A dressed Urahara, a ruffled Ichigo, a lot of strange people trampling a shop and Central 46 about to be brought down because it Messed with the Wrong People.
"And that's pretty much it," Urahara said, smiling his old, charming smile. "I am now a correspondent of the King himself. We never talk about politics, however. It would ruin our friendship, I think, since both of us feel that much better knowing that the other's realm of string pulling is way clear of our own. Besides, there are Secrets to be had. Oh, and I never saw him again. I have no clue whether he hasn't returned to the real world yet or whether he hasn't gotten around to visiting. Now, shall we move in the other part of the house? I am sure my guests will be wondering where I am and what I'm doing. Or, if not that, then thinking I'm really impolite for sleeping with you the moment you came in instead of doing my job as a host."
Ichigo nodded and started searching for his own clothes, which were also spread around the room randomly.
"Urahara," he said. "What are we-"
The other man looked at him, surprised. He dreaded the question of what they were to each other and wondered if that was what Ichigo was going to ask now or if it was something much different. He didn't get to find out, however, because the younger man stood, silent, and smiled, letting it drop. Perhaps he'd seen something in Urahara's face. Perhaps he was afraid of the answer. Perhaps he knew it and thought it was silly to ask. The shopkeeper almost prompted him, but then changed his mind. He couldn't do that. He couldn't face that without having some sort of an idea of what he himself wanted and what he felt.
"They're waiting," Urahara said. "Out of the cauldron and into the fire. We've got a lot of work to do."
AN: Done. Finally done. Again, sorry this took so long, but I had to get the past in there somewhere, so things and relationships would be explained, so the story could go in the direction I wanted it to. The fact that this is a flashback containing a lot of OC input is part of what got me to spend such a long time on it, deleting and rewriting as I caught courage and then lost it.
It's also 25 pages long, which means just typing and editing on their own took forever and included falling asleep with my hands on the laptop several times (because I write at night. Even as I type this, I can't help but notice it's 2:20 AM and I'm sleepy. However, if I don't post soon I'll be very angry with myself.)
Yes. I'm sorry.
Thankfully, I also started working on the eleventh chapter before I was entirely done with this one, so it should come out much, much sooner (and it will probably be shorter, for author sanity).
Don't forget to review! (please? Feed.... author....)