Further Down the Rabbit Hole
Story 2: In Dearest Memory
Rating: Teen for Safety
Misc: Angst/Drama
Pairings: None
Warning: Character Death and Spoilers for H.M Arc.
Disclaimer: I-and-I don't own Bleach. Blame the downpression of the man, man.
Summary: The blond man finished carving the agonizingly familiar name into the grave marker, only one thought present in his mind. This had been his fault.
The blond man bowed his head seriously as the evening sun glinted dully off the modest black stone. "Kisuke-san?" a soft voice called, "You wanted to see me?"
Urahara Kisuke nodded and grinned at the little girl, though his smile seemed noticeably strained, "Come here for a little while, please, Ururu."
The black-haired girl complied and the two stood in comfortable silence for several minutes before Ururu noticed the name engraved on the stone. "W-Who is that, Kisuke-san?" she asked in a hushed voice, "Her last name is the same as mine."
Kisuke frowned and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, "She's your little sister, Ururu."
"Sister?" the girl repeated slowly, "I don't have a sister... do I?"
The blond haired man looked into the small girl's eyes and saw only a child's confusion, not the anger, fear, or despair that would have shone from an adult's. That was truly how it was meant to be, and that had been his greatest gift to her. His first gift to her, even before he had wrenched her soul from nothingness.
Eternal youth as a modsoul. The intelligence of an adult coupled with the boundless creativity and optimism of a child, unfettered by the disillusionment of adulthood. Those were his gifts to her. Even filled with guilt as he was, Ururu's eyes still brought a smile to the shop-owner's face. "Go inside and play, Ururu," he said, "I'll explain it later, I promise."
The girl seemed to hesitate but Kisuke's eyes made it clear that he wouldn't stand any argument. Not now. "Okay."
He watched her enter the shop out of the corner of his eye and sighed as he read the name on the grave marker yet again. It was all his fault.
There was no way he could have known, no way at all, but that didn't alleviate his guilt in the slightest. The day he was exiled, he had rushed out of his laboratory, the Gotei Thirteen at his heels, and had neglected the few seconds needed to take or destroy his blueprints. This was not an excuse, but the truth. That day, he had chosen his life over hers.
He should have known, being the 'genius' that he was, that his sick successor couldn't help but duplicate his experiments and pervert his design. He should have known that the insecure little bastard would have disabled her self-defense systems. He should have known – yes, he should have known – but he hadn't.
Ururu's little sister was the opposite of her in so many ways. Ururu was an eternal child, with a little splash of adulthood; her sister was an eternal adult, that never had a childhood. Ururu was created to be a beloved daughter; her sister was created, more likely, to be a slave to her father. Ururu had never lacked love, as he had made sure of that; while her sister had never gotten any.
What a sad, sad existence. Trapped with a man that didn't love her, never did, and hadn't hesitated when she died. Her only sin was to have been born.
Kisuke had never seen her, touched her, or even known her face. He didn't know her birthday, nor did he know how old she was. All he knew about her was what he had been told by Yoruichi following her death.
Regardless, she was still his daughter. A daughter he had doomed to hell, not intentionally, but due to a sorry lack of foresight. No matter how or why her life ended, and began, so unhappily, Kisuke knew that, in a roundabout way, it was still his fault.
So he took off his hat, stared at the name of the daughter he did not know, and resolved to love, even harder, the daughter that he did. With a final glance at the dull, black stone, Urahara Kisuke turned and walked back into his shop. He had a daughter to tend to. The sun's dying rays reached the stone; however, and the engraved words were still clear to see.
In Dearest Memory, the words said, Of Tsumugiya Nemu-
A/N: Hey everyone. This is just a short fic exploring what COULD have been if Nemu had actually died from Granz's attack in Hueco Mundo. I always felt that there was more between the two (Urahara and Nemu) than was immediately apparent. Honestly, I'm a little disappointed that Nemu lived through Granz's attack. It's not that I don't like her, because I do, but just because it seemed like such deus ex machina when she didn't..
I should be getting back into town tonight so that's all cool and I should get caught up with everything then.
This is my second drabble; however,that is no excuse for it to suck. If it does, please don't hesitate to tell me.
Please review, as feedback is always appreciated.
B-E