On the Crossing to Choose

Chapter Twenty-Five

There were probably a few times in the course of my long, long life when I may have been called masochistic.

It wasn't true. At all. Pain hurt me, as it should any sane person. I didn't take pleasure from it in the least, which is part of why I had avoided potentially pain inducing activities.

Training was, of course, a potentially pain inducing activity. It also, when done right, lead to bona fide fighting. That, too, upped the stakes of physical discomfort; people actually tried to hurt you (not that I would let myself dare to believe Hiyori was anywhere near concerned about my bodily harm now). I heard you could even die from extreme physical trauma, if you could believe it. And, seeing as we the Soul Reaper race ran around attempting to impale each other with sturdy steel sticks, the chances of getting hurt (and dying) seemed, to my admittedly simple mind, pretty damn sky-high. It sort of made me wonder why we – or anyone, for that matter – did it.

"What the fuck's your problem, Kame? Why aren't ya gettin' any better at this? Are ya even tryin' anymore?"

"Screw you." The curse oozed through my teeth as I dodged another of my coach's ultra-aggressive swipes. Taimozou, back in zanpakutou form, hung limp and unreleased in my hands.

"Stop that dodgin' bullshit and come after me already," Hiyori scathed, pulling back from her offensive role for the moment. I mimicked the motion, sliding to a halt and facing her, breathing heavy.

"Sorry, but that's not gonna happen," I ground out, at the end of my proverbial wick. "Apparently I don't play that way. I'm just a side-kick. It's the only thing I'm good for."

"Damn straight it is," was the ever-so inspirational response. "I don't know why I'm botherin' ta' waste my time on your ungrateful ass!"

"Neither do I," I said, tone a low rumble. Hiyori, while genuinely angry, also let a flash of surprise pass over her expression before the glare returned.

"What the hell's goin' on with you? You've been all piss and vinegar for the past couple days now. If yer not inta' this trainin' anymore, then no one's makin' ya stay!"

That was basically the last straw for me. "Okay, then I'm leaving."

Again, Hiyori's face betrayed a hint of hurt. It soon vanished in favor of the common snarl, though. "Whadidya say?"

My eyes rolled. "I said I'm gonna make like a flea and flee. Bye."

"W-whah? Hey, get back here!"

But I was already stalking my way to the massive staircase, not letting myself so much as think about the group of Vizards that had gone silent close by in their campfire huddle. I was just about to reach the base of the structure when the skin between my shoulder blades tingled, and I only just managed to jerk my torso to the side and yank Tai up to meet Hiyori's Kubikiri Orochi.

I grit my teeth, my eyes squinting shut in the effort it took to hold her back. Tai was, after all, about as thin as a razor blade, giving me absolutely no leverage over the smaller girl and her legitimate sword. The predicament pushed my patience over the edge, and I really didn't even think about what I was doing until Taimozou wasn't really Taimozou anymore, but Shinsou.

Despite my red vision, it didn't take the most critical eye in the world to catch the pulse of friction that came over the company as a result of my move, or the bizarre way Hiyori was staring at the morphed Taimozou pressed against her own blade, now fifty feet away.

Before either of us had the chance to escalate the action, Shinji was there to play peacemaker, bringing out his soul slayer and laying it across the extended, false Shinsou as a precautionary measure.

"Alright, alright," he drawled, not smiling for once in his life. "Let's calm down now, ev'ryone."

Taking notice of both his mood and wording, I spared a moment to release Hiyori from my predatory stare and scan the rest of the establishment. All of the Vizards, I saw, were stiff where they stood (or sat), eyes trained on Taimozou-Shinsou with varying emotions, some screened and others as clear as thin air.

Panting and only then feeling the line of sweat on my brow, I heeded Shinji's implied command and retracted Tai into his original form. Now that it was over and done with, some foggy part of my brain realized that this whole thing may have been one big overreaction. I really didn't know what I was so upset about, so it wasn't all that fair to be taking it out on the people who had volunteered their own time (granted, they did have plenty of it) to help me. And maybe using Shinsou of all zanpakutou wasn't the wisest choice when its real wielder was one of the guys behind the Vizards' very existence, but I wasn't even sure if all the tension was actually because of that or just from the explosive display I had just put on.

Either way, I didn't care to let them know that I was sorry. I would save that for a time when I had cooled down and figured out what was wrong for myself.

Shinji let out a hefty breath, bring a few long fingers up to comb through his bangs.

"I don't know what's goin' on…" His eyes trailed from me to Hiyori. "…but we're not the ones in charge here. If Mikita's ready ta' go, then we're gonna let 'er go."

"Let her go?" Hiyori sneered in a shriek. "You're just gonna let her walk out before she accomplishes anything, Shinji? What the hell's the lesson in that? That's why she's so damn flighty – she never had anyone makin' her stay! She'll waltz in all ready and willing when someone puts her down, but she just walks out when she realizes that bein' a shinigami ain't a fuckin' cake walk! If we keep givin' her that power, then what the hell resolve will she have to stick–"

"That's exactly the point, Hiyori."

Despite the severity of the moment, I couldn't help but scoff. As if I didn't know where Shinji was going with this, right?

"The only one with the power ta' decide Mikita's resolve is Mikita," he said. I could practically predict his monologue in my mind. "We can be here fer her once her mind is made up once and fer all, but until then it's all on her. We may not like it, but that's the way it's gotta be." I could feel his eyes shift over to land on me, but I kept my stare stubbornly averted. "No more a' this yo-yo trainin', Mikita. I think it's best if ya leave now and think about things a little more. Come back when ya decide fer good, if ya ever do decide fer good."

Because deciding that I didn't want to be the warrior they wanted me to be meant that I was the enemy or something, I guess. Besides, even when I did decide for good to really put some effort into something, I still ended up backing out before I got in too far. I was just a lost cause and shouldn't even bother trying. It was a mental thing. A disease.

"Well, now that I have your permission," I said, basically to myself, before starting once again towards the staircase. There was something about the exit that didn't feel right, though. Maybe it was just too dramatic for my tastes, but that sickeningly familiar churning in my gut said otherwise. I hated feeling guilty, especially when I thought back to the times when I could have done something like this without a single twinge of discomfort.

I paused half way up the ramp, knowing that if I didn't take care of this feeling now it would just stay on my chest forever (like all the emotions I'd held back for the past hundred years, really.)

"Just for the record," I called, pretending I was saying it all in my head so that it was easier to say at all. It didn't really work that well when I had to speak from the depths of my chest so that my voice would carry. "…I've heard this sort of thing plenty of times before, so it's not just you guys I'm not listening to." Actually, of all the times I've heard this sort of thing it'd always been coming from a shinigami, and I'd only been involved them for a few months now. They really did cause more trouble than they were worth. "It doesn't matter the wording or who's saying it, there's just no effect on me. So no offense, or anything."

"I think the who might matter, as a matter a' fact."

If I didn't know any better, I'd have to say that Urahara had dug a hole from the store to the warehouse and popped into Shinji's body to give me that kind of cryptic prophecy. It was probably just a Court Guard captain sort of thing, that future-seeing wisdom. They all seemed to have it. Part of the job requirement, maybe.

"Yeah," I said shortly, jutting my chin out to the side to glance askance behind me, "I don't think so."

I refused to think so.

The walk home didn't bother me. It was dark out, go figure, but the cool air felt indescribably crisp and clean after being locked up underground for so long. I wasn't even afraid, either, rather loving the isolation I had been missing out on. How long had I been gone, anyway? I hadn't really bothered to keep track. A few days at least. I vaguely remembered the circumstances that I had walked away from when I took off: Arrancar had just shown up in Karakura for a show-down, and Ichigo was jutting off to save the day as always. I wondered if anyone had been hurt during the scuffle, and if they had even realized my absence during it. I tried to tell myself not to be offended if the answer was no, considering there were probably so many other things going on at the time and I wasn't exactly top priority. Still, that would be quite the blow to the good ol' ego.

I shrugged all of the thoughts off, figuring worrying about them wouldn't change anything anyway. Just walk in like you'd never left, Mikita, and everything would be A-okay.

I found myself hesitating outside of the Shouten doors, though, despite my little internal vow. I wasted about a minute just seeing how long I could suck in a single breath of air before my lungs felt ready to burst, and at that climax, before I could do anything otherwise, I flung open the door.

"Honey, I'm home!" I chirped, my eyes darting around the store. It was empty, which I guess wasn't exactly unusual for that time of night, so I made my way in and shimmied on to the housing section like I owned the place. All was empty there too, and I only spared a moment to stand in the dining room like a gorilla who lost her banana before letting it go and heading towards my bedroom.

Once there, I made an immediate bee-line towards my dresser for some clean cloths; even after criticizing Ichigo for going off to the Soul Society without an overnight bag during that Bount incident, I'd neglected to do it myself with the Vizards. I'd been wearing the same outfit for a couple days now, and it wasn't like I'd just been laying around the entire time. The fabric on my back was soaked in sweat and grime and dirt and more reiatsu samples than sperm on a hotel mattress. I'd probably have to burn them now, but at least I hadn't exactly dressed to impress in the first place.

I scurried along the hallways to the bathroom, realizing that it was for the best that no one see me until I was cleaned up anyway. Still though, it was strange that not even Ururu or Jinta were around. Maybe the family had gone out for a late night ghost hunt without me?

Morning inevitably came, finding me tangled up in a wave of blankets. As wonderful as it was to sleep in my own bed for as long as my body wanted me to, I wished I would have thought to wash my sheets and pick up the place a little before I'd left so the room would feel as fresh and light as I did after bathing, but beggars couldn't be choosers. It wasn't such a bit deal when compared to the fact that the house was completely silent. Had it been any normal day, I would have fallen in love in the occurrence, asked it to marry me, and bared twelve of its children, but something about it then was just plain unsettling. It was quiet - too quiet.

It didn't take me too long to roll out of bed after such a revelation, so I filled up time by picking out an outfit somewhat more formal than lounger wear, making sure my hair was smoothed out, and working the sleep-gunk out of the corner of my eyes before presenting myself to the family. That turned out to not have much of a point, because when I left my room and stopped in the kitchen for some food no one was around again. And when I passed into the dining room to eat, even it was devoid of any breathing life forms.

"What the hell," I grumbled, plopping down onto the ground and putting my bowl of cereal on the table before me. I made conversation with myself as I ate, wondering what had happened to everyone. Did they all die or something? That would kind or suck for me. Or maybe they were all kidnapped and Aizen had taken them in as slaves. That would kind of suck for them. I wonder what the Soul Society was going to do about it. Either way, it looked like I had the place to myself from now on, right? It was sort of like I'd always planned, only I'd hoped Urahara would have left behind some kind of guide book on how he manages to avoid FDA standards and such. Not that the place was a pigsty or anything, but if any government workers had really looked in to the condition of the building that desert in the basement probably would have raised a few eyebrows.

I had just about finished moaning over the fact that I'd lost Jinta and Ururu's labor force when I also finished my breakfast. I rolled up onto my feet and made my way back to the kitchen to drop the dishes off in the sink. I stepped through the threshold and paused, seeing Tessai there wiping down the counters.

"Oh," I spoke up, "you're alive, huh? Does this mean it's just you and me from here on out?"

Lord, I hoped not. Tessai was harmless and everything, but I couldn't help but be freaked out by the idea of the two of us sharing a house on our own. At least he'd take care of all the cleaning, I guess, if we're looking on the bright side.

Tessai looked up, his arm frozen in the middle of its motion.

"Kame-sama, you've returned," he said as he straightened, leaving the sponge where it landed and crossing his arms over his broad chest. I looked up at him, feeling oddly intimidated. "I expect you've yet to be informed of the current situation."

I bounced my weight between my feet. "Well, I have a few theories, but something tells me they're not exactly likely. You know me and my theories."

Tessai didn't smile, but then again he rarely did. I sucked in some air between my teeth, averting my gaze under his stare. I might not have been able to see his eyes drilling me from behind his ever-fogged glasses, but I could definitely feel them.

"Urahara-sama is downstairs in the training facility," the kidou master said at last. "You should go speak with him."

I nodded, not having any disputes at all with the idea of getting out of the room. I dropped my bowl off at the closest expanse of counter top before skedaddling out or there with my tail between my legs.

Being in another underground dirt pile was nauseating, and I didn't bother to try to stop myself from curling my upper lip as I hopped off the ladder. The Vizards definitely had the right idea with that extended staircase of theirs, so I'd have to pass on the knowledge to Urahara whenever I did run into him.

I began trekking across the land, aimless at first and then realizing that I could just sniff out the old man's spiritual pressure to save searching time (which I, of course, could have done right in the beginning when I couldn't find anyone the night before, der). With that done, it was only a simple matter of flash-stepping to Urahara's side.

He was standing in front of the frame of his personal portal to outside worlds, which only happened to be there whenever we needed it. I stared at it, too, putting the pieces together in my own way.

"So, did you finally crack and push the whole lot of them into Limbo?"

The corner of Urahara's lips twitched up, but there wasn't any real humor behind it. I was starting to get nervous; something serious had to be going on to have him and Tessai in these no-nonsense, weird-o moods.

"Not exactly," he said, his tone a husky hum. "But Ichigo and the others are in Hueco Mundo, and the shinigami have returned to the Soul Society."

I put my hands in my pockets, hunching my shoulders as I rocked forward. My eyes hadn't widened enough for him to notice, had they? "Okay, so what's the deal then? I thought we weren't ready to take on the Arrancars and were gonna wait until they came to us in the winter?"

"That was the plan, but a few things have changed since you left." Urahara turned to me, his face shrouded in shadow but the surface of his eyes reflecting light. I could taste the intensity. "You see, we believe that Aizen was interested in Orihime's abilities and brought her to Hueco Mundo as a prisoner. The Soutaichou disagrees, and the team of soul reapers that were assigned to the area returned to the Soul Society under his orders to stay out of the situation."

I probably should have felt some kind of asteroid fall out of the painted sky and come plowing into my gut when the truth came out and hit me, but in all honesty I barely felt a poke.

"Oh," was the only thing I could say off the top of my head. I figured that probably wouldn't cut it, so I struggled for a moment before putting out a, "damn."

Maybe it was stupid, but the whole thing was a little hard to wrap my mind around. I mean, Orihime? Of all the interesting characters hanging around, Aizen wanted to take Orihime? Sure her healing thing might be cool, but Aizen seemed like his head was way too far up his own ass to worry about flesh wounds. I think a part of me couldn't take the whole thing as seriously as everyone else clearly was; there had to be something else to it. I wondered if Ichigo was helping or hurting her cause by giving chase so soon, even if the rescue was inevitable.

"Well," I went on, clapping my hands together before me and lacing my fingers, "I guess there's nothing else to do but wait for them to come back with the verdict, am I right? No use in getting ourselves worked up over something we have no control over."

I sucked on my bottom lip, watching Urahara from the corner of my eye. He was doing the same.

"Don't look at me like that," I said, feeling a faint yet familiar flare of fury building up at the snap of a figurative finger. "You have no right. How often have you just hung around here doing nothing after throwing Ichigo out to the sharks?"

"Point taken," Urahara conceded, withdrawing his gaze and bringing it back to the portal. He stayed in that position for an extended moment before turning on his heel and making for the general direction of the ladder. "But just think about something, Mikita." He ever-so-predictably paused, lifting his chin to catch my eye from over his shoulder. "How do you feel about being just like me?"

It was funny how much I hated school. Only not really. But it was funny in an oh-my-Gackt-that-is-so-unoriginal way when the school day passed by as if I were in a wind tunnel; the conversation and action around me was blurred and echoing, just like every single movie ever made depicted the world around their mentally distracted protagonist.

I'd always said I was going to take over Urahara's job one say, hadn't I? I would take over the shop and make it into some Willy Wonka Wonderland and, even if I'd never really thought about it seriously, I'd probably have the same insane approach towards customers. And if there was to be another Ichigo around whenever that time came, I barely doubted that I would do things any differently than Urahara; I'd hold secrets I didn't feel like telling, help in my own round-about way, and be the bridge between him and that other realm that I would only serve an animated encyclopedia for. We both could do more than we were if we really wanted to, but didn't. Actually, the only real difference between Urahara and I was the fact that he had been a good guy before giving it up to live as a recluse, while I gave up any chance at being a good guy to live as a recluse. We were both bitter and somber and hiding it in our own deranged, would-be-chipper ways.

We were pretty messed up. And was it just me, or was I not the only one feeling it?

I might have been semi-lost in my own little world, but I wasn't totally oblivious. I realized that Tatsuki was quietly seething in her seat, shooting me contemplative glances throughout the day. Keigo had yet to make a single obnoxious move in the five hours we'd been in the same room, and Mizuiro's puppy-face looked like it'd been hit with a rolled up newspaper. I could also pick up the slightest traces of spiritual pressure on them when the thought occurred to me to search for it (after hanging around Ichigo and the legit reapers for so long, the sparks they gave off were nearly under the radar). I didn't bother to think about what that meant when paired with their behavior and the recent happenings in the city, though. Ignorance is bliss, at least until ignorance is impossible.

As the day wound down and our algebra lesson came into play, I entertained myself by playing word games with the variables on the board. By the time the bell rang and everyone jumped out of their seats as if the desks had suddenly turned in to iron maidens, I'd invented at least seven new words to add to the dictionary.

Somewhat subdued by my success, I got out of my chair and swung my bag onto my shoulder, making for the door with an unnamed country song playing in my head. I made it into the hallway and got about half way down before a hand on my arm stopped me, forcing the chorus to be cut off smack dab in the middle as I turned around.

Now, Tatsuki wasn't the type of girl to get worked up. She was one of the top female fighters in Japan, and I could only imagine how stress-less her life must be when she got to take out any frustration she felt throughout the day by bashing her fist into an innocent sparring partner's body. I'd always assumed that was why she was so laid back during school hours.

Maybe she'd been banned from the gym and didn't have any faces to punch in with probable cause, because Tatsuki wasn't looking particularly laid back that day. On the contrary, she was the polar opposite of laid back. Eyes glistening and surrounded by sunken purple skin, hair lanker that I was used to seeing it, and breathing just the slightest bit off; this Tatsuki wasn't the same Tatsuki I was used to.

I blinked at her for a minute or two, wondering what way the encounter was going to go. The way I saw it, she would either throw herself at me and sob into my shoulder or throw herself at me and rip my larynx out with her teeth. I didn't know which, but I didn't want either.

Tatsuki's lips pressed together in a tight line, and her grip on my wrist squeezed down. "Why are you here?"

Her words were flat, but her eyes had taken on a flicker of fire. I couldn't tell whether it was an angry one or a sad one.

"Uh," I sputtered, my eyes darting around between all the kids that were passing and laughing and not noticing the tension at all. "Why am I here, in this hallway, heading towards the door at the end of the school day, you mean?"

She didn't back down, but I could see then that the spark in her eye was more from the former feeling than the latter.

"I mean," I went on, barely registering whatever the hell my mouth was spouting, "I never took you as the philosophical type, so I guess you don't mean why am I here, in this world or reality or whatever, and what is my purpose for living. Or you know what, maybe you do. That's fine. Really deep of you to ponder the meaning of-"

"Stop it!"

Now all those kids that were passing and laughing were noticing the tension.

"Just stop it, Mikita," Tatsuki said, her indoor voice forced. Her fingers constricted further around my wrist. "I'm not going through this again. I get it. Ichigo wouldn't answer anything either, but at least he's gone now. I know something happened to Orihime, and I know Ichigo and the others went after her, so why didn't you? Isn't Orihime your friend? Don't you care about her?"

Even if I knew better than to avoid Tatsuki's eyes, I was still extremely tuned in to the motionless hallway; did all of the other kids leave already, or were they all just standing there watching and listening?

"Let's take this somewhere else, Tatsuki," I said, trying to make sure the conversation was between the two of us only. Other people overhearing would only lead to a bad time.

"No, I don't care," she protested, tugging on my arm to emphasize the point. "I told you, I don't need to know everything. I don't want to know everything! I just want to know why Orihime isn't important enough to you. Why wouldn't you go after her with the rest of them? What's keeping you here?"

I had nothing to say to her. Maybe it was just the pressure of the situation, but deep down I knew I wouldn't be able to answer even myself if I asked the question at some other private point. There probably wasn't any reason for it at all; I just didn't. I missed the chance anyway. They were probably leaving right as I was coming. And, on that note, it was for the good of everything and everyone in any and every way. Really. Me going to Hueco Mundo and expecting to actually make a difference? Not likely.

"It's a long story, Tatsuki." My tone hadn't changed much since the last time I spoke, still lowered and down to business. "A long story full of things that wouldn't make sense to you and are too complicated for me to explain in full. Just trust me when I say you should stay out of it for as long as you can, okay? Orihime wouldn't want you getting into trouble because of her, so just trust that she's in the best hands possible right now."

There was a pause that I could have sworn matched the time I'd been alive. Tatsuki ended it, her grip on me loosening before falling away all together. I began to breathe easier and only then realized that I hadn't been breathing in the first place. The relief was pretty short-lived, though, when I got around to getting a good look at the tom-boy.

"Yeah," she muttered, her face shrouded in shadow as her head bowed to the ground. "She's in good hands, huh? With Ichigo? And that's just fine with you, so you decided to hang around here and let someone else take care of it?"

Keigo had moved in in an instant, hovering behind Tatsuki with his hands out and ready to reach if necessary. I hadn't even noticed him as a bystander.

"Tatsuki," I heard him whisper in warning. "C'mon, not again."

"No," she agreed, but I still eyed her quivering fists warily. "No, not again. She's not worth it. She was never really our friend in the first place."

Tatsuki never looked up, but she did jerk her chin away, as if the very fact of knowing I was in her line of sight was painful. It was Keigo's gaze that I met instead, but that was probably just as bad. There was still confusion, disappointment, and accusation there, even if it was absent of animosity. My eyes darted away on their own accord, falling by chance on Mizuiro. It wasn't much of an improvement.

I cleared my throat, feeling like a pig getting ready to be roasted. I gave on odd sort of nod to the general company before lifting up a jello-y leg and taking the first of many agonizingly long steps down the hall. Keigo and Mizuiro's eyes were on me - I could feel them - and it took all I had in me not to sprint until I could escape from firing range.

"The walk of shame, Mikita," I muttered to myself, my eyes pinching shut as I struggled to get a grip. "The walk of shame."

"Open."

Nothing happened.

"...Open sesame?"

Nada.

"Open coconut?"

Zilch.

"Alakazam and a bottle of rum?"

Nil.

I huffed, lowering Taimozou and tossing him onto my bed. How was it those guys did it again? I was pretty sure Renji hadn't even said anything, but it had been a long time since I'd seen him do it, and I wasn't in the best shape of my life then. I knew it was a long shot, but I just felt compelled to give it a try. It was probably like those electronic finger print pads that opened the doors in super-ultra-secret government facilities; Taimozou would have had to been registered in the Soul Society in some way to be able to act as a key for their fancy portal.

All the same, maybe it was a blessing in disguise. What would I have really done if I had managed to summon some Senkaimon smack dab in the middle of my bedroom? I wasn't really sold on the idea of using it in the first place, so I probably would have stood there gaping for one second, fist-pumped in accomplishment the next, and then realized that I had no idea how to get rid of it and I would be stuck with the glowing doorway as a roommate. It was just an impulsive, experimental move when it came down to it, I guess; I hadn't really wanted it to work so that I could actually go there or anything. Nope. Now that my curiosity was fulfilled, that was the end of it. Yup.

Really, I wouldn't have jumped in if it had worked. My motives were just a fleeting thought that was best tucked away in my head and not brought out into the real world of action. I wouldn't think about it again. It wasn't their problem, honestly. If the Soul Society didn't want to be a part of Orihime's rescue that was their prerogative, even if it sucked. I wasn't in any position to protest it.

I scratched my ear, my nose wrinkling up in indecision. It was so weird to be in Karakura with no spiritual friends to play around with or teenage-ghost drama. The town seemed so empty of life all of a sudden, and I was antsy. Somehow, I knew I couldn't distract myself from that fact if I tried.

But that didn't mean I wasn't going to try.

I dug around in my pocket until my fingers clasped around my phone and I was able to tug it out. My fingers went to work, navigating me to my contacts and hesitating over the name that I had in mind. But, true to the personality I had paved for myself, I decided to screw caution and throw it to the wind, pressing down on the green button harder than necessary to prove a point to myself.

It rang a few times before the person picked up.

"Keigo?" I questioned, as if I really needed to make sure. He affirmed his identity, as asked. "This is Mikita." State your name just in case the caller ID in all cell phones just didn't happen to be working on his, why don't you. "Let's go on a date."

He agreed, and we made quick plans to meet up at that one family restaurant in the middle of town that I'd never really bothered to learn the name of in an hour. When we hung up mutually I sighed, plopping the phone down onto my bed much in the same way I had discarded Taimozou. Looking at them then, side-by-side and haphazardly dumped, made it seem like they were both just useless novelty items.

Something occurred to me then, as if a decision had finally been made. I leaned in, placing my fingers over Tai's benign blade, and closed my eyes.

I really hated uncomfortable silences when there was food around, because then the only thing you could do to ease the tension was eat, and that's how you landed yourself into the position of being as full as a tick while trying to walk off the weight and praying your gut isn't hanging out over your belt any more than normal.

I was a little annoyed by the fact that I was alone in my suffering. Keigo had only picked at his food during dinner and answered my lame attempts at conversation with abbreviated half-brained replies and mechanical smiles. It was unnerving, coming from a character like him, but it wasn't like I didn't know what was bringing it on. I was waiting for him to get to the point and open his mouth but he never took the plunge, not even as we walked home afterwards and were far away from any eavesdroppers. It was annoying.

"You know," I interrupted the lull between us, watching my breath take on a misty form as it floated up in the night air with a grimace. Winter was coming fast. "I thought you'd be a smidge more exciting as a date. Keep this up and I might not go out with you again."

Keigo didn't seem to register my words, only walking alongside me at the same dragging dirge of a pace. His sneakers skimmed across the ground (which, had the circumstances been a little different, I would have tripped him for and told him it was about time he learn how to pick up his feet) his hands shoved down into the pockets of his jacket and his head hanging low. You'd think the guy was being led to his own funeral. I wasn't that bad of company, was I?

I spoke the thought aloud, hoping to get some response out of him from it, whether a yay or a nay. I didn't. But just about when I was ready to call it a lost cause and pretend my phone was vibrating with a call from home, I noticed his lips part. The excuse died on the tip of my tongue, and I waited on baited breath for him to choke out whatever it was he wanted to say.

"It's just," he murmured, his voice a kind of somber calm I'd never heard from him before, "what Tatsuki said before..."

Despite knowing that it was coming all along and having been waiting for it all night, the pivotal moment tied my stomach up in knots. My neck lost its strength almost instantly, leaving my chin dropping down until it was nearly resting on my chest.

Keigo took in a deep breath and filled his lungs with some frigid air before going on. "I've been thinking about it. She and Mizuiro and I were there the other night, you know. We saw Ichigo and Chad and Uryuu going into that portal, and that weird candy store owner said they were leaving to do their part in helping Orihime. He said that we had our own part to do, too, but I haven't figured out what it is yet."

The corners of my lips felt heavy. Urahara had let them be there to see that? What was he playing at by dragging more people into this mess?

"I did figure something out, though," Keigo went on, gaining some confidence. "You live with that weird candy store owner, and since it seems like he's known what's going on for longer than anyone else then that means you must have known what was going on for longer than anyone else, too. You're more directly involved than Ichigo and the rest because, somehow, you're more of a part of it. You were never not a part of, were you?"

I didn't know if he was pressing for confirmation, so I didn't bother to give him any. Keigo was definitely more perceptive than I had given him credit for, even if some of his assumptions weren't particularly head-on. It was scary. I was starting to feel like I never really knew him at all, for what it was worth.

Whether he actually was speaking rhetorically or just didn't want to wait for me to find my tongue, Keigo continued.

"I guess I can understand you better, if that's what's going on," he told me. "I can understand why you would try to keep us all at certain distance if you knew that you would never really be on the same level as the rest of us, and why you would feel like you needed to maintain that distance because any friendships you'd make would be in some kind of jeopardy. I guess you sort of make sense now that I know more about the situation. But even with that said...I still think that Tatsuki was wrong."

My eyes darted up to meet his on impulse.

"I still consider you a friend, and I think you have been all along, no matter how much you tried not to be. It's like I said before: you may act like you're so cool and untouchable all the time, but I would still trust if it came down to it. Maybe you might not be as ready to admit it or as fixated on it as Ichigo, but I know it's there. I know you care about us and you're not still here just because Orihime wasn't important enough for you to go after."

I brought my eyes back down to the ground. They were starting to sting.

"It's just that there's something important here, right? You're here protecting something else important while Ichigo goes away, and that's what your place in this whole thing is. You had to stay behind to do some kind of job here. You're being kept from leaving, but you're still doing your part in the best way you can."

My eyes closed, and I directed as much focus as I could towards fighting the tingling on the underside of my sockets.

Apparently, I was putting so much attention into that task that I forgot to karate chop Keigo when he got ballsy and decided that grabbing my hand was a good idea.

No matter how disgusted I should have been, the fact that Keigo and I were strolling hand-and-hand down the sidewalk wasn't the worst thing going for me at that moment. While I was distracted by my own inner strife, Keigo took my complacency as a sign that everything was A-okay with what he was doing and let his thumb trail along my knuckles. He'd probably seen the move in a movie somewhere. I only vaguely felt it.

I grew numb to the feeling soon enough, and figured it wasn't such a bad thing. Keigo never ceased to throw me for a loop in one way or another. What was this guy doing, being so nice and intimate when he didn't know a damn thing about me? I wasn't here because I had a "job" to do. I wasn't doing a single stinkin' thing to make sure Orihime would return home safely, or that her home itself would stay safe and be ready for her return. I wasn't doing anything, and wasn't so much as worrying about the people who were.

That wasn't very friendly of me, was it?

I was coaxed out of my trance when Keigo was in front of me all of a sudden, a few inches taller and a few inches closer.

His eyes were the size of teaspoons. "Hey, you alright there, Mikita? You were spacing out on me."

I cleared my head with a few blinks, taking in the area around us. We'd reached the shouten, and Keigo had taken it upon himself to walk me to the door and step up onto the mini stoop.

"Yeah," I said, fully aware that it was an empty statement. "I'm ace."

Keigo stayed quiet, watching me like he was actually a normal human being who could pick up on other peoples' moods without needing to have them shoved in his face. I didn't let him look me in the eye, instead keeping my sights fixed on a knot in the wood of the door frame. My lack of attention was most likely why I didn't notice his face getting even more up in my grill.

The smell in the air changed when he was about a hand's length away, but I didn't feel his breath until there was about a finger's distance from nose-to-nose. I got distracted then from the scent of some kind of spice, like a salsa or chili or something of the likes. There was an impulsive scan of the fridge in my mind, despite my bloated belly, that I hoped would dissuade me from giving in to the craving (if we didn't have any salsa I couldn't eat salsa, right?). I sort of thought it was my imagination when I could taste the tanginess a bit better, a piping-warm spoonful of chunky stew pressed right up against my lips.

Or, you know, that might have just been Keigo's mouth.

I hoped the way I wrenched away from him as if he had just burped up some vomit wasn't overly offensive, and that he wouldn't take my hacking coughs or furious mouth scrubbing too personally.

"Oh my god," I whispered at first before my voice exploded in volume. "Oh my god! Keigo, y-you just kissed me, you ass! What the hell was that?"

He was still in some kind of shock, but he came around soon enough to do his part in putting some more distance between us. "Hey, calm down! It just seemed like the right thing to do!"

"Why would that seem like the right thing to do?" I spit into the dirt, ultra lady-like, wanting to get rid of any residual Asano germs.

"I don't know! It was the end of the date and we were here at your doorstep and you were pretty bummed out so I thought it might make you feel better!"

I had been bent over, hands to my knees and head bowed to the ground, but I lifted my face up so that I could see him. His fingers were tying tangles into his messy auburn mop-top, his cheeks a faint pink.

"I don't know," he repeated, looking anywhere but at me. "I just…wanted to."

There was nothing else I could think to do but just watch him for a while, my breathing steadying out after the traumatic experience. As I mellowed, Keigo only grew more agitated, fidgeting with anything he could get his fingers on and unable to stand still in one position.

Seeing that, an acerbic smile came to my lips, and I let my head fall forward once more. "I can't believe I just had my first kiss with…" But I cut myself off, my eyes widening. "Oh my god, that was my first kiss! And it was with you?"

"Really?" Keigo cheeped in surprise. "That was your first kiss? It was mine, too!"

I let out a single, mirthless laugh, shaking my head and still too caught up in the realization that for as long as I'd been alive, this was the only time I had ever gotten around to playing oral patty-cake with a boy. And after all the trouble I gave Renji…

It occurred to me that nothing else could come from this night out to top what had just happened, and prolonging the moment any more would just be overkill. I took it upon myself pull it together and buffalo my way past him to the door, call out a casual good night, and lock myself in the shop, leaving Keigo alone outside.

I put my back up against the wall once I got inside, listening to Keigo call out his own enthusiastic farewells and thanks and "I'll call you". A snort practically fell out of my nostrils at his turn of mood.

"Well, at least he's happy," I told myself. It was with that thought that the smile that'd snuck its way onto my own face waned.

"What this place needs... is a nice cherry Firebird. With a Ratt casette playing on full volume from the dash."

I could settle with a golf cart without the radio, though. Anything to help make moving around Urahara's Sahara not so much like Chinese water torture. I could just do the singing part myself.

"I knew right from the beginning that you would end up winnin'..." It wasn't exactly the same without the horrible 80's sound quality and shark skin jeans, but it was better than silence. "I knew right from the start you'd put an arrow through my heart..."

Somehow, the music didn't have the desired effect. I just felt even more pathetic and alone. So I stopped and used my magically enhanced abilities to zap myself to Urahara's side once again, defying the laws of nature and loving it.

I got the feeling that Urahara knew what sort of thoughts had been going through my mind lately, and his devotion to hanging around down in the isolated place was due to that. He knew everything, really, so it wasn't much of a surprise. He was just waiting for me to realize what he already realized that I would realize.

I hiked he last few steps to his side, letting out a long breath in the process. I planted my shoe more firmly into the dirt with the last footfall, my exhale coming to an end.

"Well," I piped after a short silence, "I guess you know why I'm here, right? Get to it."

When he didn't move for another short silence, I shifted my eyes to get a look at him. His stare was straight ahead, even as he commented, "Nice ring."

My mood dipped, and my eyes lowered to my left hand as my second finger inadvertently rolled the cool metal around my thumb. Jerk. As if he couldn't sense the reiatsu coming off of it.

"Yeah, I found it in my bed the other say," I said, nonchalant. "Anyway, c'mon, let's get on with this."

Urahara remained tight lipped, not making any move to acknowledge my words at all. I adjusted my stance, letting my weight fall on my left leg so that I could lean towards him with a purposeful cock of a brow. His lips formed into a straight line.

"I just want to know one thing first," he said, actually deigning to look in my direction. "What makes think you're going to have any influence over the Soutaichou's orders? What exactly do you plan on doing to help Orihime?"

"I'm a hell of a lot better at talking than I am at fighting," I quipped, ready and willing to answer. I'd thought about it myself over the last few days and had come up with an answer to satisfy my own original misgivings. "So I figure I can talk my way into getting other people who are capable of fighting to fight, ya dig?"

Urahara continued to watch me like a hawk, so I rolled my eyes and went on.

"It's not like I'm going to waltz right up to the friggin' Soutaichou and demand he change his mind," I tutted, wishing I could do just that, "but there's no denying that everyone in that Court owes them all something: Ichigo, Orihime, Uryuu, and Chad, I mean. The Soul Society should be supporting Ichigo even if they don't agree with the turn of events, just like Ichigo's done for them all along. They just need to see it that way. I know there are at least a few people there that I can convince, and I'm going to try my darndest to lay on the sweet talk and rope as many as I can into my web of retribution and justice."

Just call me the father-flucking Spiderwoman.

I cleared my throat, not liking the heaviness in the air after that dramatic moment. Sucking on the inside of my cheek, I angled my whole body so that I face Urahara.

"Are you gonna open the portal so I can do this or what? You wait too much longer and I might change my mind and back out."

He gave a small smile that wasn't completely genuine, but not all fake. "I guess it's something, coming from you. I hope you're prepared for what's ahead of you. Good luck."

I nodded, taking in a deep breath as Urahara worked his magic and got his mystical doorway activated. Knowing the time frame I was working with, I plunged in as soon as I got the signal, keeping that last breath stuck in my throat as if it were that gulp of determination that I'd be living without for all this time.

I had to do it. For Orihime.

(A/N) Well, Happy Halloween, everyone! Is this a trick or treat, do you think?

...Unfortunately, it may be both. After the longest wait to date, I don't come bearing good news of being back in full-swing with a pillow-case full of sugar-coated morsels of chapters to come. I'm not dropping the story, of course, but I've had a feeling for a while now that I really, truly, honestly can't ignore anymore.

I've admitted this before, so you guys know that I started writing this story without any aim: I began where I began just because I saw the opportunity to begin there, and Mikita was just the person that wrote herself into the picture as I went along. I actually played around with the idea of this being a Hisagi fic during the first few chapters (don't ask how the hell I would have worked that one out, given that Renji's actually a primary character and I haven't even gotten him in any romantic light yet!) and it only ended up going in this direction because that's the way the wind blew. I didn't have any problem with this "building the story as I go along" tactic up until I got into the heavier plot line, and that was when I started to realize that it didn't work at all in the grand scheme of things. My mind's been stuck on the idea of re-writing the entire story to polish up some rough spots and bring the whole thing together, and that nagging feeling keeps biting at me everytime I sit down to work on OtCtC.

As much as I want to put the whole thing on hold NOW and do that for myself before anything else, I know it's not fair to you guys. My heart hasn't been really into writing any of the last few chapters, and, while I'm sure it must show, I still feel like I need to accomplish something with this story before I go back and do that grand re-write. I don't want to just cut everything off in the middle of things, so I'll hold out a little longer, so long as you guys hang in there with me, too!

So, yeah. This may sound absurdly serious/silly to some of you, or it might seem like there's no point in me sharing it at all since nothing's really changing for the time being, but I just want to let everyone know what's going on in my head. Also, I'm sorry that updates can't be as frequent as they've been in the past. I was about fourteen when I started writing this story, and the wicked truth is that I'm not that young and care-free anymore. I have big-girl responsibilities and other real-life hobbies. I want my writing to remain one of those hobbies, but that can't happen if it feels more like an obligation. You know? I used to have no problem ignoring reality to please an audience, but that just can't happen anymore.

And now, I drop the ultra-needlessly-tense moment and wish you all a happy Halloween! My favorite holiday, if you didn't know. Fun fact that I just found out and am super fascinated with: did you know that it's against the law to trick-or-treat if you're older than twelve years old? No joke. Raise you're hand high and proud if you've just discovered you're a delinquent!

I, funanyaTHEmute, am raising my hand with you.