Disclaimer: I didn't create Bleach, but I love the characters as if they were my very own.


This little hole in the wall has not been his haunt for at least a hundred years. In his academy days, lured by Shunsui's promise of an illicit adventure, he'd been drawn and captivated by this place, its shady corners and dusty bar. Many a night he had stumbled home, a few nights been carried there because he'd had such a good time. He was such a faithful denizen of this place that even now, after all this time, the bartender looks and says his name in a friendly way, like he'd only been gone a week and not several centuries. "Table for two, Captain?" And he points to that tiny table in back. Her table.

Where she is sitting, a rare frown on her face. A candle gutters before her and for a moment the amber in her eyes reflects back at him. He can't turn and walk out now, even though he has the urge. He steps through the narrow path created by other patrons who have no idea who he is but are polite enough to make way for him. When he settles himself in the seat across from her, he forces himself to look. And is surprised to see her gazing at the tabletop. "Juu-chan."

"It's been a while. You look well," he says.

"So do you." She still isn't looking at him. Shyness coming from her is completely foreign. In fact, he didn't think it possible.

He is older than her by at least two centuries. He dimly recalls the announcement of her birth all those years ago, long before his days at the academy. His family was noble. As was hers. And births were rare. This is why the Shihouin celebrated the birth of a mere girl. Any baby would do. His parents offered their congratulations to the other family and he was allowed a quick view of the new arrival. She was tiny, dark, and silent in her sleep, as if she knew she was designed for stealth. He reached down, pale fingers grazing soft baby skin. He was interested but not amazed, and after satisfying his tactile curiosity wandered off.

The next time he saw her she was taller. Much taller. And a whole lot noisier. The trees echoed with her obnoxious laughter, mingled with the laughter of her companion. "Ne, Kisuke, that's just mean!"

The twelfth division captain's shoulders were shaking. "Really! Mayuri tries so hard, I can't help but play with him." He looked up to see Juushirou and immediately quieted. Urahara was new to the role of captain. Dignity was obviously something that would have to come later. For now, he would sit cross legged on the ground and tell bad jokes to his friends and not mind the grass stains on his captain's smock.

"Don't be rude, Kisuke," the girl with him said. "Introduce me to your colleague."

"I know who you are, Shihouin Yoruichi. And I know you know me," Juushirou said.

Her smile is brilliant. "So you have me, Ukitake-taichou. It is nice to see your lovely hair up close and personal."

He knew she was not mocking him. Just teasing him a little. All the time he'd spent with Shunsui was worth it. He could flirt with the best of them. "And it's likewise nice to get a good look at your pretty face," he said. "I would have thought the Shihouin heir would be a little more manly."

Yoruichi looked at Kisuke, Kisuke looked at Yoruichi, and both let out a howl of laughter. "Ukitake-taichou," Urahara said, "I must buy you a drink."

It was an innocent enough start.

Kisuke was a genius. And slightly deranged. The drink he promised Ukitake was similar to him: unusual, sharp, and just a little dry. Juushirou settled into a warm fog as Urahara and his companion babbled on at each other, observing their mannerisms with an interest keener than he thought it would be. Listening to them you would think they were twins. They were not so far gone as finishing each other's sentences, but close, and the tales the told him were really just stories they both knew and were recounting to each other for possibly the thousandth time. Kisuke's hands would move with the fluid grace of a Kidou master as he remembered aloud the first hollow he'd killed. Yoruichi's face was a painting that had a million separate thoughts crowded onto it in rapid succession, and her eyes were like living fire. For she was a also a genius, and equally as deranged as Kisuke. "Juu-chan," she laughed, tugging at his sleeve, "are you still with us?"

"I think we lost him where you were spying on that yakuza and fell out of the tree," Urahara grinned.

"I'm still here," Ukitake smiled at him. "The stories you two tell are as good as being there. You shouldn't even still be alive."

The pair looked at each other again. "Yes we should," said Yoruichi with a cool certainty.

"We've come too close to killing each other without even trying not to be indestructible," Kisuke chuckled. "But other than that, Ukitake-taichou, we're both pretty unremarkable. You're old man Yamamoto's prodigy."

If he wasn't flushed already from the booze, he would have blushed. "I had no idea you'd paid any attention to me," Juushirou said.

"How could we not?" Yoruichi yawned. "You're the first of your kind. You've set standards for us to exceed. How can we know we're getting better if no one comes before us?" Kisuke nodded his agreement. Then he turned to her. "Did you just yawn?"

"No," she said.

Urahara stood. "Well it is past one in the morning. We should call it a night."

"You just want to get your sleep in so you can be all shiny and new when you pick up where you left off torturing Mayuri," the Shihouin princess retorted, stretching.

"Of course," Kisuke said, winking at a slowly rising Ukitake. "The job would hardly be worth it without its little perks."

The night air was brisk and, thankfully, sobering. But Juushirou still felt warm. Instead of walking side by side as he thought they would, the pair flanked him. Kisuke walks close, giving him a sly smile. "Thank you for coming out with us, Taichou," he said.

Yoruichi, on the other side, grunted her agreement. "We should do it again. Soon."

Ukitake was about to agree with him when he felt it. A light pressure on his ass. Someone was pinching him. Controlling the urge to jump out of his skin, his head swung to Yoruichi. She gave him a wicked grin and was gone in a flash. Which left Urahara. Instead of apologizing for his companion's apparent wanton behavior, he smirked a little, winked, and disappeared just as quickly.

Walking back to his quarters in the moonlight, he decided not to wonder who the actual perpetrator was until tomorrow.