Hello, loves!

Hope you are all well! Here's the update ;) The moment Shizuko and Kisuke finally meet!

Enjoy!


Chapter 18 (Shizuko/Kisuke)

(Kisuke)

"Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth". That's what Arthur Conan Doyle always said, right?

Well what remained seemed pretty improbable as well. But still, I couldn't overlook what I saw. Her sandy, wavy hair and her grey eyes—upon closer inspection, I noticed that they were slightly different colors…just like someone else I knew. She was small, about a foot shorter than me, but she was built exactly the same as Kumiko.

Even the cold stare she gave me was like Kumiko's. She knelt across from me, hands propping her cup in her lap and eyes droning into my skull. It was like looking at Kumiko or Byakuya. Except that she looked like me.

"You're not entirely new to town," I sipped at the steaming tea, "I felt your presence a couple days ago—by Ichigo's house, I believe."

If she was surprised by my words, she didn't show it. That was duly noted—she seemed more composed than either Kumiko or myself. Her stone-cold stare was indecipherable, which only led me to believe that she was either trained that way or she was one hell of an actor.

"Were you sent out to assist Captain Kuchiki and his handy lieutenant?" She said nothing and I chuckled, "I don't expect you to answer that since I already know the answer. What I don't know is why you decided to help Ichigo."

"I was raised right."

My head tilted in surprise, "That's a mighty lot of hostility in your voice towards someone you don't know."

She opened her mouth but Jinta walked into the room, shouting the odds like usual. He noticed her immediately and then glanced at me. It seemed as though he was only now noticing the resemblance.

Ururu, who had entered the room while Jinta gawked openly at the girl, bowed quietly, "Miss Soul Reaper. It's nice to see you again."

I looked over at her but she said nothing to elaborate. When I asked Tessai about it later, I found out that she had in fact been here just the night before. What was most curious was that I didn't sense a thing, and neither had Tessai. He had assumed that she had been either a Squad Two Tracker or someone from the Kido Force.

There was a third answer to why neither of us could sense her presence, and that lay in a Kido technique that a certain individual had mastered—Kumiko.

"Miss Soul Reaper," I chuckled and looked at her. She was frowning now and I cleared my throat. The time had come to ask the question I was dreading the most.

"Mister Urahara," She replied. She was soft-spoken but, once again, it seemed unfitting somehow to her in this moment. She was slowly bursting at the seams, and I could see that she desperately wanted to scream.

Finally, I asked, "What's your squad?"

She pulled at the collar of her uniform and flashed me the squad symbol that marked her uniform, "Squad Eleven."

I was beginning to break out into a cold sweat. Steeling my nerves, I let the words fall from my lips before I could procrastinate any longer, "What's your name?"

Her eyes flickered over my face, as if she was searching for something and wasn't finding it. Her throat bobbed and I wandered if she was holding back tears. I waved Jinta and Ururu away and they quickly scurried out. Her head was bowed now, hands shaking. The façade was clearly not enough to mask whatever she felt.

"Shizuko…my name is Shizuko Kuna, Mister Urahara."


(Shizuko)

He nodded. Out of every scenario I had imagined, I never thought that all he would do was nod. Disappointing is the word most people would have used to described this moment—this reaction. But there was no singular word to truly describe how I felt. There was a certain freedom in finally meeting him and introducing myself, like I had finally revealed a secret that had weighed me down for a long time. But I wasn't expecting him to be so…calm.

Perhaps I had expected him to be just like my mother, who would be exploding with some kind of emotion by now. Maybe that was what she had liked about him—he was level-headed.

And just as I thought this growing dissatisfaction couldn't dig any deeper into my gut, he began to laugh, "Shizuko…yes, I remember now."

"Yes, you moronic prick," the bitter, harsh smile that I had been biting back until now reached my lips, "Yes. I'm sure you remember me quite well."

He smiled and stood up. I watched him carefully as he approached me and held his hand out to me. I took it and stood quietly to my feet. He was taller than the photos gave him credit for. My mind flashed back to all those uniforms my mother kept in her closet—the haori that I had drowned in…

I stared at our hands and realized that he was too. Clenching my fist tightly, I jerked away from him and held my hands together. If I didn't then I would slap him straight across the face. I wondered how he would react then.

"I'm your father, aren't I?" His question surprised me, but it was his sincere and nervous tone that shocked me.

I stared at him, "Yes…but you knew that…"

His head tilted to the side like a confused dog, "No, I'm afraid I didn't. Kumiko hadn't ever told me."

Sometimes people say things so shocking that they don't quite compute. His words reached my ears but it took a moment for their meaning to sink in. But when they did, the weight of the world slammed into me like a hammer to a nail. I was in utter disbelief as he looked just as confused as I was. It was the first hint of true emotion I could read in his face. He really hadn't known about me.

"My mother…she never told you?" I whispered. He shook his head and my hand went up to cover my mouth. She had lied to me.

My hands reached out for something—anything—to steady myself. The whole earth spun as the rug was snatched from my under my feet. He lay a hesitant hand on my back and grabbed a hold of my flailing hand.

Why would she hide something like that from me? All those years I had yearned to know why he left us—and then all those years after when I asked myself if it was because of me. I felt like I was going to be sick. Looking up into my father's eyes, I felt my last ounce of confidence shatter.

Had everyone in my life lied to me at one point or another? Why was I so quick to believe the steady dose of misinformation fed to me?

"I think she tried…but that day had been complicated," His hands were on my shoulders. Without any reservations, he pulled me towards him. I shuffled closer and let my tears loose, sniffing quietly into his shoulder. His hand ran down my hair, just like my mother did, and murmured, "She did try—but I was gone before she got the chance."

Somehow, his explanation, however scarce in details, was comforting. It didn't let my mother off the hook but it soothed the gaping hole I felt from the thought of her deliberately hiding something so important from me—for now.

"Why did you leave?" I cried, "She…wasn't she worth it?"

He took a deep breath, and I imagined his eyes were shut as he murmured, "She's worth more than anything in this entire world. Which is why I couldn't drag her into any of this—but I fear that the consequences of my actions were dealt on her still."

"Why didn't you bring her with you?"

"Yoruichi, a friend of mine, broke me out of prison. There wasn't time to get your mother…"

I looked up at him. He stared down calmly at me, his face not indicating that he was lying in any sort of way. But he was. I had been around enough men to know how their voices changed when they weren't being truthful.

This time, I couldn't stop myself from slapping him. But my hand never made contact with his face. He caught it before I had even swung it, holding it in place even as I jerked and struggled.

"You really are your mother's," He chuckled with a fond smile, "She used to want to slap me too when we first met. It seems you inherited her violent streak."

"You have another thing coming if you think I believe your lies," I hissed, "And don't talk about my mother. You've lost that right."

These were the words that made his grip on my hand loosen. His face was haunted, like he had just woken up from a nightmare.

"Lost that right…does that mean…she's married again?"

I stared at him and gauged his reaction. He looked genuinely distressed by the idea of my mother remarrying. The right thing would have been to tell him the truth, but I didn't. Instead, I let him linger in the feeling of despair that I felt.

I wanted someone feeling as utterly betrayed and hurt as I did in that moment.

"Why does it matter to you—your marriage is only known amongst the Kuchiki's and a handful of Captains in the Seireitei," I crossed my arms and fixed him a look, "So really, there's no 'married again'. According to the records, she was never Kumiko Urahara in the first place."

A shadow passed over his face. The despair in his eyes reminded me of my mother's when she hid herself away in her room on their anniversary. It was the same empty look that Byakuya had at Hisana's funeral—the kind that was so void of emotion and yet spoke in volumes.

His eyes dragged up and down my face. A slow, wry smile crept along his face, "You're good at this. I nearly believed your words, Shizuko."

I looked away from him. Suddenly, I felt riddled with guilt for taunting him. "She never got married again. I did."

"Oh?" His whole expression brightened and he smiled at me, "For how long?"

"Thirty-two years this Spring," I couldn't look him in the eyes when I spoke.

"Does your mother like him?"

"No." He waited for me to elaborate and I went to pour us some more tea. He joined me by the mats again and I cleared my throat, "She's come to respect him over the years. But she didn't agree with our marriage."

"How come?" He sipped at his tea.

"Because it was arranged," I only felt guiltier as I continued but the words fell from my lips faster than I could catch them, "The Kuchiki Elders and Byakuya had me marry one of the elder sons of another noble family. I—"

"Do you love him?" His fists were braced against his thighs and his words were spoken through clenched teeth, "Do you?"

It took me a moment to find my voice. Every time someone asked me that question, I became overwhelmed with a great feeling of sadness. As a geisha, I had never expected to marry—I hadn't wanted to. But if I ever had to marry, I had always wanted it to be to someone I cherished. I knew that the choice had been taken away from me, and although I had come to terms with it I still felt this ridiculously bitter smile take shape on my face.

"No. No, I don't," I whispered, "At least not the way my mother loves you. I've come to love his company and friendship. I can't imagine a life without him being my constant companion. But I'm afraid that our marriage is based on a fragile foundation."

He was too quiet. I looked up at him and found him bowed on the ground. I saw him trembling, like he was holding back tears. It was a sight that should have brought me some vindication, or relieve the feeling of abandonment I felt. But I still felt it. I realized that perhaps he actually felt just as broken as I did—perhaps he was just better at hiding it.

"Please sit up," I tapped his shoulder. He didn't move and I shifted uncomfortably, "I'm happy though. He's never been anything but good to me—he even allowed me to become a shinigami—"

"You should never have had to have his permission in the first place," His eyes were narrowed and frighteningly like my mother's. In fact, those were the exact words she had said to me when I tried to defend Jirou.

"He cares for me," I looked down at my hands. Out of all the people in my life, Jirou was at least the one who had never been anything but honest with me. Just like with my mother, I felt compelled to defend him. "He's never treated me like an object, though he very easily could. Besides, it's not like I expected to fall in love. I don't mind."

"What do you mean? You don't want to love anyone?" He ran his hand through his hair as he sat up. His eyes were wide with panic, "Why not? Is it because of your mother and I?"

I wasn't prepared to answer a question I hardly knew the answer to, so I chose a different truth instead, "I was a geisha before I became a Shinigami. I had decided long ago not to search for someone to fall in love with. And it's never bothered me that I've never fallen in love with anyone."

He stared at me for a long time before finally smiling, "A geisha? You must have looked very lovely."

"Thank you," I bowed, feeling a genuine smile touch my lips, "I loved my time as a geisha. And although it ended sooner than I had hoped for, I see now that it was the only path I could take to become a Shinigami. Which I enjoy just as much now."

He grinned but Tessai walked in, "Tessai—are they alright?"

"Yes, I'm letting them rest for a bit. But I need to rest and restore my energy."

Kisuke glanced at me hesitantly. I set my cup down and stood to my feet, "I should be taking my leave. I'm filling in for Rukia until her replacement arrives."

"So you'll be here for a couple more days?" I nodded and he came up to me. For a second, I thought he was going to hug me, but he only took my hands in his and smiled, "Please come back tomorrow when you're done with your duties. Would that be okay?"

I nodded slowly, "Of—of course."

"Do you have anywhere to stay?"

"No, actually."

He looked unsure of himself as he scratched the back of his neck and asked, "Then you can stay here—we have more than enough space."

"Boss, the spare is where Ms. Yoruichi is staying. Ichigo and the other boy are using the only available space."

Kisuke looked up at him and then at me, "Well I'll be staying up tonight to keep watch on the boys. If it wouldn't be strange for you, you can sleep in my room."

"Why?" I asked him, "Why does it matter if you help—"

"I'm afraid that I can't make up to you what has been done to you, Shizuko, but I'm determined to do what I can for you now."

And so there I found myself sleeping in the room of someone who was an elusive imagination up until now. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I curled into the blankets, and I wasn't sure if they were out of relief or grief.

My mind was racing with so many things. My mother lying to me—or at the very least, hiding something she had no right to. Kisuke Urahara and what would become of this. The utter bewilderment that I had finally met my father and he was nothing like I had expected. Then there was the matter of Byakuya and Rukia—what were either of them doing right now as I lay in bed?

Strangely, however, I couldn't help but think of Jirou as I fell asleep. Renji and I…we had nearly kissed the other day. I felt so much shame over it. I had stopped it but was I a terrible person for yearning the lips of another man's? Jirou didn't deserve such an awful wife.

I feared that he would die before I had the chance to tell him how I truly felt about him.