Chapter 11 (Shizuko)

"Hisana?"

The shoji door slid open as we both stared at one another. A silhouette I knew all too well stood there, looking down at me on the floor.

"Byakuya," I stammered but suddenly remembered myself. I bowed low on the ground, "Captain Kuchiki…"

He shut the door behind him and beckoned the girl in the corner. She stepped forward into the light and I saw that she wasn't Hisana, but a damn near spitting-image of her.

"Rukia, this is…" He looked at me and I saw his hesitation, "A member of our family. Rukia is my sister."

I smiled and bowed at her just as deeply, "Miss Rukia…it is a pleasure. My name is Chinatsu Nakamura—but please call me Shizuko."

"You're a geisha…" Was all she responded with. Her eyes were wider than the English-styled tea saucers my grandmother cherished. They flitted over every part of me, taking in every detail in my kimono and hair ornaments, my face, and makeup.

"I am," I glanced at Byakuya. He, too, was glancing me over thoughtfully. I looked back at Rukia and smiled, "But to you, I am your cousin. So please treat me as such."

"Oh, of course," She tripped over her words more often than Chiharu tripped over her kimono. It was quite cute.

"Then may I call you Rukia?" She nodded and I smiled, "Come here, Rukia."

She knelt before me and I reached for her. Her skin was pale but tough like my mother's. I turned her face over and marveled in how much she looked like Hisana. Was she her reincarnated soul? I looked up at Byakuya and he finally noticed my questioning gaze.

"Rukia, join the party…" He regarded her terrified expression and added, "Or hide in my office. I don't care."

She scurried off after bowing clumsily, shutting the door a little too loudly. Her footsteps thudded down the hallway louder than any woman I had ever heard. She may have looked like Hisana but I was more startled by how much she reminded me of my mother.

"Shizuko."

I turned to him. It was strange hearing my name being spoken, especially by him.

He lit up the oil lamp and set it between us. I grabbed a floor cushion for him to kneel on, waiting for him to speak. He didn't but I refused to be the one to break the silence. I hadn't miss how he hesitated to call me family. It was beyond insulting and I was fed up with the feeling that he was ashamed of me.

We sat there for several minutes, neither one of us relenting until he finally sighed, "You have nothing to say? You were bursting at the seams with question just a minute ago."

"No, in fact I have plenty to say, Byakuya," My smiled felt like razor blades slicing into my face, "None of which I should say to you dressed like this. Or ever for that matter. Quite frankly, I think that this is the first time I've heard you call me family in years."

"You are just as much family to me as Rukia."

My lip trembled at the insult and I couldn't clench my jaw fast enough before he noticed. Still, there was no reaction—no apology.

"Stating the obvious is beneath you," I bit out, "So why don't you just explain to me why she looks like your wife."

"I don't know."

"How have the Elders reacted to her adoption?"

"It doesn't concern you."

His eyes flickered down to my fingers, were glowing bright orange. I clenched them in fists and looked down at them, "Ginrei saw me as a part of this family—"

"My Grandfather is dead now. I'm the Head of the Clan now."

"So what does that mean for me, Byakuya? What does that mean for my mother?" When I looked up at him, he had no immediate answer. "Perhaps you're right then. Perhaps I am just as much family to you as Rukia is. I know exactly what that girl feels like—to be a part of a family but not truly have it."

"You are not a Kuchiki, Shizuko. You are the last in a disgraced—" He stopped himself. Taking a deep breath, he met my gaze evenly and corrected himself, "You are a Kuna. Not a Kuchiki."

"Really?" My patience was sapped after dealing with Mayuri, and I felt my temper slip from my grasps, "For once in your life, be a man and say what you were about to say—I'm an Urahara."

We both winced as the words slipped through my lips. His gaze narrowed and I braced myself for his vicious words.

"You're quite right. No amount of makeup or hair dye is going to change what you are, Shizuko. You can introduce yourself as Chinatsu but you will always be the daughter of a traitor and a low—"

I wanted to smack him across the cheek, just like my mother did when he said things like this to her. I wanted to scream at him to shut up, to never talk to me or about my parents in such a way. But all I could do was gasp as my tears finally shed.

Of all the times I could cry, I resented the fact that it was now. He was just as awful as the rest of them, and I couldn't afford to be weak. But his words tore into me in ways no one else's did. Perhaps it was because I had known him all my life, and in many ways he knew me just as well as my mother and grandmother.

I wasn't surprised when he offered me his hankerchief, but he was surprised when I swatted it away and used my own.

"I'm sorry, Shizuko…"

"You may be, but it won't change the fact that you believe the words you say," I sniffed. I shut my eyes and felt my chest hiccup, "It's so stupid to think that you used to be someone I looked up to."

"I—"

"Just be quiet," I cried, "I came here to escape and now I've done the very thing I didn't want to do."

"Cry?"

"Ruin my makeup," I grabbed my mirror from my obi. The damage wasn't as bad as I imagined but it still was noticeable that I had been crying.

"I shall get some tea."

I opened my mouth to retort but chose not to. Apparently all my training to think before I spoke went flying out the window as soon as Byakuya waltzed in. Minutes later, he had returned with the tea and watched as I fixed my makeup.

I noticed him move and when I turned, he was bowing on the ground before me.

"I'm sorry, Shizuko."

He rose to his full height again, his blue gaze intense and waiting for my response. I patted down my white face make-up before I nodded.

"If you don't see me as your family then that's fine. But realize that I'm one of the few who won't stab you in the back—I won't be one of the many you walk on, Byakuya."

After this, we were fine. Fine is a relative term and I use it often when describing an interaction I have with a client who is tense and awkward. It definitely fit the interaction between the two of us but it was better than his hostile insults.

He explained to me what he was doing with Rukia. I was surprised that she had grown up in a district not far from where my mother had grown up, but it had enlightened me to why she had gazed at me like some deity. I was probably the first geisha she had encountered.

I was even more surprised when he opened up a little more on how his Squad was doing, and the duties he had to be dealing with since we last spoke. He seemed to be less tense by the time we finished the pot of tea.

"Shall I call the servant another pot?" He asked as I set my finished cup down beside me.

"Do you not have a party to attend?" I surprised him with a laugh.

He regarded me just as he had regarded Rukia earlier, "I would like to hear why you came here in the first place."

I stared at him and sighed, "I…Mayuri Kurotsuchi brought up my father in front of my mother. I lost my temper."

"You yelled at him?" I swore that he nearly laughed, "You must have shocked your patrons—and your mother."

"No," I laughed, "I didn't yell—I…" I glanced down at my hands, "I lost control of my spiritual pressure."

He held out his hand and I got him mine. Our skin touched and I flinched. His spiritual pressure had zapped me and it felt like lightning. He was smirking as I shook my numb fingers and gave them back to him.

"Why have you never considered becoming a Shinigami?" He inspected my hand, shutting his eyes and breathing deeply. My eyes widened as my hand glowed orange again, and his glowed a faint pink.

"I have." He must have sensed that I wasn't going to say anymore because he stopped asking.

"You have a substantial amount—more than enough to be accepted into the Shino," He murmured, "Or become a lethal geisha."

I laughed. If only he knew how lethal I actually was. Over the years I had provided a lot of evidence against corrupt officials and Shinigami. I had grown close to Squad Two and Squad Eight, but it still hadn't been enough to convince me to go against my family's wishes.

"I enjoy being a geisha," I smiled as I ran a hand down my robes, "It's given me the chance to have an identity separate from being the daughter of a noble, or a Shinigami…or an exiled criminal."

"It's amusing—you still fumble with your clothing when you're not telling the truth," His lips were raised in as much of a smile that someone like Byakuya could muster.

I raised an eyebrow at him, "What if I did want to become a Shinigami?"

"I wouldn't stop you, if that's what you're asking."

A blessing from Byakuya seemed as good as any I would get. He was the head of my family clan and his approval was overpowering to any protest others might make. But would I be able to go against my mother? She had never explicitly said I couldn't, not even when I spoke to her in the Rukongai, but it had been made very clear that she would rather not. Perhaps she questioned whether I would be adequate enough to be a Soul Reaper.

Perhaps she wondered if I would end up like my father.

"You look beautiful," His words brought a blush to my cheeks but he would never see it under the mask of white make-up. "Though the black hair is strange—I nearly mistook you for someone else."

I laughed lightly as we both stood to our feet, "It has been a while since we last talked like this—I've been dying my hair for years now."

"Why?"

"It's easier than wearing a wig," I shrugged, "And most of the clients that I serve prefer a more traditional look."

We grew quiet. The party was still alive, even though an hour or two had passed since I had escaped to this room. I leant down to blow out the lamp. His hand was on the door, ready to slide it open. But he only watched me. I found myself drowning in his gaze, compelled to return it.

"Shizuko…" He murmured, "Tread carefully. The Elders are roaming about tonight."

I nodded and faced toward the party as he opened the door. He swiftly left the room and to where I presumed Rukia was hiding. Little did I know that this would be the last time that Byakuya and I would speak for years to come. If I had then I would have stayed for the second pot of tea.

I stepped out and began towards the party, tilting my lips into my perfect smile. I felt like a leaf fluttering around in a soft breeze—not quite in control of the course but floating through with a practiced ease.

This was especially essential as I reentered the party and quickly stumbled upon who Byakuya had warned me of. The Elders.


Up Next: Kisuke hears something through the grapevine. Shizuko finds herself in checkmate.

(I promise we'll get to Kumiko's perspective soon! The story is centered a lot around Shizuko right now but when we catch up, I promise that we'll see more of our favorite ship xx)

Have a wonderful January! See you in February!