Oh gods oh gods oh gods above be merciful...

Urahara Kisuke had never been particularly religious. Nor had he ever in his afterlife been truly envious of anything. Now, however, he would have sold his soul for a flash-step that would rival Yoruichi's. At this moment - the world spinning around him as the unfamiliar sensation of panic threatened to burst his lungs - every single second counted.

Kisuke tightened his arms around his burden, willing his grip not to slip, and focused on getting every ounce of speed possible out of his exhausted, terrified body.

Why won't the world move faster? he wondered desperately, even as he begged time to go slower. But neither would obey him and as a few more precious moments slipped away, something very close to hysteria rose in his throat.

Gods above and below, please don't let me be too late...

The only thing he hadn't done yet was ask Benihime for more speed, but that was the one thing he couldn't do. He hated her nearly as much as he hated himself right now. So he tightened his grip once more and begged mercy from every god he could name as his bloodshot eyes strained for any hint of his destination.

There.

As if by magic, the Court of Pure Souls emerged before him, glittering white. Peaceful, serene. Full of slumbering souls completely unaware of the impending tragedy bearing down on its walls.

In a blur of motion, he was up and over and tearing across rooftops.

Grey eyes flickered quickly as he got his bearings; with only the slightest of hitches, he shifted momentum and careened towards the southron rivers.

Hold on, he prayed. Hold on, love. Almost there...

Kisuke wondered, at the last second, if there were any security measures in place to prevent an unannounced intrusion into an unfamiliar squad compound such as he was about to execute. But as there was no time to answer his own question, he settled for swearing to himself that if there were barriers, he would tear through them bare-handed if he had to.

Turned out he didn't have to; Thirteenth must have felt adequately secure in its location, clustered near the center of the Gotei squads and perched delicately amidst the windings of one of the cooler streams that wended through Sereitei. There was only a basic proximity spell, delicate as a spider's web, the thread-thin strands of kido designed to do little more than make one aware of an outsider's approach. And as fine as this web was woven, there was little doubt as to who the originator of the spell had been, nor whether anyone below a Captain's level would even feel its presence much less its breach...

It burned like fire across Kisuke's skin as he hurtled through it. He only had seconds before an alarm was raised, but seconds were all he needed.

Once inside the compound, he ascertained the brightest spirit source and homed in on it like a heat-seeking missile. In a stunning display of insolence, he dropped out of shunpo into the very middle of the austere private chambers.

"Ukitake-taicho!"

Kisuke wondered for a split-second if he would be incinerated on the spot, a fear supported by the sudden and stunning swell of reiatsu in the room. He realized that his posture - the deepest seiza he could manage, forelocks brushing the floorboards - was only serving to obscure his identity. Urahara jerked his head upright before the pale captain before him could loose the spell no doubt hovering on his lips, and before he could scrub the terror off his own face.

Shocked brown eyes met his, an uncharacteristic ferocity melting out of them as Kisuke was recognized and the kido chant died unspoken. "Urahara Kisuke? What is the meaning of this-?"

"Help her!" Kisuke prayed that the urgency in his voice would excuse his rudeness, and straightened out of his crouch further to reveal the mangled figure in his arms.

It didn't take more than a moment for Ukitake to see the purple shades glimmering in the blood-soaked hair, or make full sense of Kisuke's words. The teacup that Ukitake held in his hand was swiftly put to plate.

"Good gods." Ukitake didn't bother crossing the room, taking it in one flashstep. His robes hadn't even settled to ground before a swift word summoned a hell butterfly. He was already issuing commands as he helped Kisuke gently lower the broken body of Shihouin Yoruichi to the floor. "Unohana-taicho to my personal suite, please. Immediately. Do not inform Shunsui." The hellmoth vanished as they got her settled; Ukitake spared a glance at Kisuke's agonized face and his voice softened in reassurance. "Do not worry, boy. Retsu will come quickly, and quietly." He reached out a soothing hand...

And froze. Brown eyes flew open the moment the pale captain touched Kisuke's arm, the older man stilled in shock at the raw, newly-tapped power roiling just below the surface. Too tired and dazed and terrified to attempt any kind of evasion, Urahara locked gazes with the older man and waited for Ukitake to find his voice.

"Kisuke," Ukitake breathed, his voice deepened in stupefaction. "What have you done?"

It was all Kisuke could do not to fall apart right there. He drew as deep a breath as he could and just barely managed to keep from trembling. "Help her," he croaked miserably, with a tiny, helpless shrug, his expression pleading.

Ukitake's face hardened as the full scope of the situation crashed down on him. "You must go. Now, before Unohana arrives."

"But-"

"Silence!" Obeying orders being an automatic reaction for most shinigami, Kisuke's jaw clacked shut as Ukitake continued in a terse growl that brooked no argument. "It will be all I can do to keep this quiet. Unohana's senses are far keener than mine, and there will be questions enough as it is. If you were actually seen here..." He was right. They both knew it. And they could both feel the rapid approach of a warm, soothing strength laced with urgency. "GO."

Agonized, Kisuke rose and gathered reiatsu, managing as he did so to sneak in one last, tender brush of fingers along the blood-encrusted tendrils of merlot hair plastering Yoruichi's forehead. As he prepared shunpo, he caught Ukitake's last, indominable look.

"And Kisuke," The normally warm voice was cold as steel, eyes hard and dark. "I will have questions of my own for you to answer."

With a comprehending nod, hands still covered in Yoruichi's blood, Kisuke managed one last, strangled whisper before disappearing in flash.

"I'm so sorry."

Then there was nothing for it but to find the deepest hole possible and wait, and hope and pray. And punish himself with the memory of the unforgivable arrogance that had led them to this moment...


With a grunt, Yoruichi barely deflected a blow from a move Kisuke had never tried on her before. Annoyed, she snapped at her zanpaktou.

What the hell was that?

Fur rippling, the Griffin within her managed a derisive snort. Do not ask me, Princess. This unruly street rat is incapable of fighting in a properly respectful manner. Griffin had long nursed a thoroughly aristocratic disgust at the variety of sneaky moves Urahara and Benihime dreamed up. He seemed to think that battle was something in which only the noble and deserving should engage, and his fury that someone like Urahara Kisuke could equal him knew no bounds.

All's fair in war- Another grunt, as she had to drop into her fastest shunpo to keep her kneecap where it was.

And in love? Griffin was truly being insufferable; his opinion of her relationship with Kisuke did not bear repeating.

Shut up and fight, would you? Yoruichi snapped, taking half a heart-beat to eyeball her lover and sparring partner. There was a blank, slightly feral look to his eyes that he'd never worn before, a smoothness to his motions that signaled a level of communion with his sword that he'd never previously unveiled. What are they doing?

Princess, Benihime is beneath association, Griffin feinted in reply, rippling his eagle wings in agitation. She is all insinuation and manipulation, and never speaks straight or with honor. I do not know what they are doing. A series of strikes that had both of them panting with exertion and more than one oozing wound, and Griffin settled into a contemplativeness that was suddenly serious. Princess...

I know, she shot back, her battle senses on full alert and watching Kisuke like he was a live adder. They're different. Their power level, synchronicity...it's way beyond us.

Griffin's golden eyes glittered in her head, his talons sinking into her mind in a way that sharpened her every perception. Princess, their union is similar to only one thing...

With a curse, Yoruichi got down to business. It was several minutes before she could sneak inside Kisuke's frame with a numbing knock to his wrist, and in a flash of motion, she slapped him full across the face.

It was hardly damaging, but it was a move she would never have used, and it was shock she was going for.

It worked; with a splutter, hazy grey eyes sharpened into razor-sharp silver and Kisuke looked at her with a clear gaze for the first time in minutes, rubbing his wrist. "Ow! What was that for-?"

He choked off the rest as she planted her foot firmly in his right kidney, rather effectively putting him on his ass. Standing over his writhing form, Yoruichi glared daggers. "You've been training." Kisuke's gasping cut off as he paused, looking up at her warily. "Without me."

"I have not!" Urahara protested, getting weakly to his feet. Yoruichi didn't answer, she just glared at him as his face slowly dissolved from defensive into faintly guilty. "I have not been training without you," he insisted, hesitating minutely before continuing. "I've just been experimenting..." He trailed off, watching her.

"Experimenting. With what?" Golden eyes met silver while the Shihouin princess' brain raced toward the inevitable conclusion. "Spirit power?" Another long pause as the conclusion hit her. She tilted her head, almost as angry as she was shocked. When the next word emerged, it was barely a whisper. "Bankai?"

Slowly, Urahara Kisuke nodded.

A long moment passed while Yoruichi digested that. "You're close." Kisuke didn't reply, continuing to watch her intently. "Very close. How?"

Kisuke cocked his head at her, grinning faintly. "Do you really want to know?"

"No." She never did. "But I do want in." At the recalcitrant look that started to steal over his pale features, Yoruichi upped the wattage of her glare. "Don't even think of refusing. You owe me, for not telling me earlier."

For a moment, silver eyes glittered at her. "I'll need you for a couple of days. Two, three at most. I think." He waited.

Yoruichi's mind raced. "It will take awhile to arrange that." She hesitated; Griffin rustled in silent disapproval but she ignored him. "A month from today. Here. Dawn."

She disappeared halfway through his nod of acquiescence...


It could have been hours or days before Ukitake found him, huddled miserably in a darkened alley outside of Fourth squad. Kisuke didn't bother wondering how he'd been located, although he'd tamped his howling reiatsu down as hard as he could. It had already become scathingly obvious to him that power level wasn't the only thing that went into being a captain, and besides that it wasn't his place right now to ask questions.

There was a long silence, which Ukitake finally broke.

"How did you know to bring her to me?" The quiet, controlled tone cut more deeply than any fury could have accomplished.

Urahara shrugged slightly, raising his head to face the inevitable interrogation. His complexion was sallow, grey eyes deeply shadowed, but his gaze was steady. "You're the one who's been covering for us, I figured. And I knew Unohana-taicho would come at your summons."

Another long pause, before Ukitake grunted. "Well, at least you have some sense in that brilliant, foolish head of yours." He regarded him for a long time. Urahara let him, and did not waver.

He waited.

"Do I want to know how you did it?"

A muscle along Kisuke's jaw twitched. "No, sir."

Ukitake pressed further, eyebrows drawing together. "Will it happen again?"

"NO." Kisuke's fingers dug into his forearms to keep himself from trembling under the force of his conviction.

"Kisuke, do you have any idea what it is you have done? What you nearly did?" Kisuke had never heard the gentle captain's voice so rough, so merciless. He very nearly shuddered, his eyes finally dropping to hide the sudden burning moisture.

He whispered.

Ukitake took a step closer, imperious. "I didn't hear-"

"Yes," Urahara said, louder, the trembling finally overtaking him. "I know what I've done. What I almost..." His voice broke, and as he raised his eyes again a single tear fell along his clenched jaw. "I promise, it will not happen again."

Ukitake was not quite finished with him. "She promised me that I would not regret my aiding this...tryst." Those brown eyes bored into Kisuke. "You very nearly made her a liar."

Urahara did not look away, but he found it hard to swallow for several heartbeats. The trembling slowed but did not halt.

Ukitake noticed, and when next he spoke his voice was gentler. "She will live. Unohana predicts she will recover fully. And for now, suspicion is not cast too overtly in your direction, although Retsu is beside herself to find out what accomplished such wounds as she has never seen before. You must keep your head down, and stay away from anyone who is sensitive to reiatsu. You have two secrets to keep now, Urahara Kisuke. And," Ukitake added firmly. "You cannot go anywhere near her. Not for a very long time."

"I know," Kisuke answered softly, his shuddering finally under control and his voice even again. He rose slowly, brushing the dust off himself and loosening his grip on reiatsu ever so slightly. "Thank you for letting me know that she's...that she will..." With a direct and slightly forlorn look, he cleared his throat and spoke again. "I don't know if it is even respectful to offer my thanks after all you have risked on our behalf, but nonetheless it is yours. I don't fully understand why you helped us at all..."

Ukitake sighed abruptly, seeming to deflate a bit. "Well...let's just say I have some experience with making acquaintances that were...politically inadvisable." He almost smiled then, wryly, and gestured in defeat at the stark misery on Kisuke's face. "Oh, come now, boy- no." He gave himself a tiny shake. "I cannot call you that anymore." He offered a look that was, finally, the merest shade of sympathetic. "She is two buildings over, east corner window by the lemon tree. I can buy you an hour, maybe." He smiled sadly. "Go say your goodbyes."


An hour was not enough. But then, all the time in eternity wouldn't have been, so an hour he took. He spent most of it repeating one thing over and over.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry...oh gods, I'm sorry..."

In truth, he got into such a rhythm that he barely heard her speak.

"Uraraha Kisuke, if you say 'I'm sorry' one more time, you will force me to get out of this bed and kick you right in the teeth." Gold glinted in the moonlight; eyes open, Yoruichi was smiling softly through the bandages.

In an instant he was at her side, trying to lace his fingers through hers without causing her pain. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel like hell," she grunted, shifting painfully, stopping at his guilty look. "But I dare say I feel better than you look." As he sank his head, carefully, onto the bed at her side, she raised her other hand to comb softly through his flaxen hair. "I take it, it worked?"

Kisuke forced himself to meet her gaze, torment tightening his features. "Yes," he wrenched softly. "Of course it worked."

Her smile deepened. "Good. Then it was worth it."

"Ha!" He surprised both of them with the bitterness in the sound. "Worth it? Yoruichi, no experiment is worth the cost of a life...your life...!"

She heard the pity and self-loathing in his tone and managed to catch his chin firmly, forcing him to look at her. "I'm alive. I'm here with you. Nothing else matters."

"It does. It matters." Kisuke refused to relent, a steely tone etching his voice that neither of them had ever heard before.

"Kisuke, stop it," Yoruichi scolded firmly. "We both knew what we were undertaking-"

"And you got hurt." Kisuke's voice was thick with the unfamiliar timbre of guilt.

"Are you hurting any less?" Her calm rebuttal drew him out of his fugue enough to meet her eyes. "Leave it, Kisuke. We took the same risk, at the same cost." Her eyes started to twinkle. "Same reward..."

"NO!" Kisuke very nearly shouted. He took a breath to calm himself, lower his voice. "No one will use it again."

"Kisu-," she started.

"Yoruichi - I don't know what that was. I don't even know for certain if it was bankai-" He broke off, trying to hide his shudder at the memory of Benihime fully released...

I will teach you the cost of summoning me in this manner, she had said.

"No one will use it again until I figure out what went wrong," he finished with conviction.

Whether Yoruichi saw the truth in his eyes or not he couldn't tell, but she saw some of the rest, and let it go. "Fine. Figure it out; you will find the answer. You always do." She shifted, a steely sadness shadowing her breathtaking eyes. "You'll have plenty of time now. We're both going to have to lay low until this blows over, won't we." It wasn't a question.

Something behind Kisuke's sternum caught and twisted painfully. "Yeah." His fingers tightened around hers reflexively.

Yoruichi's eyes slid shut, a brief capitulation before the agony inherent in that truth. "Okay." Then she was pinning him with her gaze, all the heat and strength and determination he adored so much simmering in the molten gold facets. "Don't let anyone or anything stand in your way, Urahara Kisuke. When this is all over, I'll meet you on the other side."

Dropping a fervid kiss onto her finger tips, he returned her look with a matching one of his own.

"I'll be waiting." Turning, Kisuke filled his vision with the sight of her and disappeared.