Disclaimer: All characters appearing in Bleach belong to Kubo Tite. No infringement of copyright is intended and is not authorised by the respective copyright holders.
Character(s): Kojima Mizuiro, Urahara Kisuke, Abarai Renji, Kurosaki Ichigo, Arisawa Tatsuki, Asano Keigo
Warnings: Mild male-slash.
Timeline: Up till Deicide Arc, deviates from canon after that.
Still Waters
Imagine this:
The world is a game.
You must not let me down, Mizuiro.
There are no rules. All you need is a fair bit of intelligence, a way with words, useful connections. Qualities that you possess. There is very little that you lack. You try to keep a low profile in school, unable to see the logic in forging bonds with children. You don't need them.
"Oi. Kojima Mizuiro, right?"
"Yes, Kurosaki-san?"
"Don't call me that. That's Goat Face's name. Name's Ichigo."
"Ah. Ichigo-san. Is something the matter?"
"Nah, just checking if you are okay. Saw Fuzuki dragging you out during lunch."
"Fuzuki-san was simply concerned for my well-being."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Mizuiro. See you tomorrow."
Kurosaki Ichigo was an anomaly. You never asked for his friendship. The scowling boy waltzed – swaggered, actually – into your life as if he had always belonged in it. His friendship was a bond that held no expectations. It made you wary. Eventually you learn to accept that Ichigo wasn't going away. Then came Chad, Asano Keigo, Ishida Uryuu, Inoue Orihime, Arisawa Tatsuki–
You wonder what your mother would make of it. She hasn't spoken to you for days.
You listen to her voicemail again.
"Mizuiro, sorry about this but can you have dinner by yourself tonight? I won't be home till late. Don't stay up. Love you!"
You reply her text message.
Having a study session with classmates. Staying over. Heat up the bento if you're hungry.
You delete the e-mails from women who have too much time on their hands. Women love you. They interpret your apathy as blank innocence, unsaid words as youthful promise. You don't correct them. It is easy to let them believe in what they need to hear. Demand and supply. Supply and demand. You're profiting from them, after all.
A transfer student shows up unannounced. She is made of bright violet eyes and a lithe, petite figure. Not your type. Her odd way of speech has you cringing, but you introduce yourself all the same. A gentleman has to be professional.
Then you notice how different she is with Ichigo. You entertain the possibility of romance, then dismiss it when you see that Chad, Orihime-san and Ishida begin behaving strangely. Oh, they might think that they're doing a good job of keeping it a secret, but it's painfully obvious. Ichigo cannot lie to save a life. Chad's face flushes as he struggles to say something. Orihime-san starts blubbering about robots, aliens, giant marshmallows with great enthusiasm, yet the minute pause before she speaks says volumes. Even Ishida's condescending tone is tampered by the twitch in his fingers, the trembling of his hands.
You smile and pretend not to know a thing, pulling Keigo away from them before his blabbering causes another huge scene.
You don't need them.
The night Arisawa, Keigo and you follow Ichigo into that shady shop run by an equally shady but admittedly handsome shopkeeper marked the end of everything.
After listening to Urahara-san's words, Tatsuki – you're not sure when you started referring to her by her first name – has already dragged Keigo out of the shop, muttering something about training their asses into shape. You lingered in the silent shop, absently running fingers through the assortment of candies.
"Ah~ Mizuiro-kun, was it?" Green and white flutters into view. You stop. Plaster on a polite smile, then turn to face the handsome Urahara-san.
"Yes, Urahara-san?"
"Is something bothering you, Mizuiro-kun?" His flippant tone gets on your nerves. Your smile turns a tad sweeter, a little wider. You want to tell him that yes, you are bothering me so could you just disappear right now, thank you very much and goodbye.
"Do you make any profit from this tiny shop?" You say instead. Urahara-san chuckles, waving his fan with dizzying speed as he ambles towards you. Something pushes against your shoulders. Your knees start to wobble.
The fan touches the tip of your nose. Urahara-san is a breath away, his grey eyes boring into yours. Calculating. Measuring. The weight drags you downwards, drowning, robbing you of your breath. Even so, you stare back. You take in deep breaths, kneeling from the invisible pressure probing against you. It winds round your neck, your body, your eyes, reaching into your nerves. You imagine pushing it away.
The fan drops onto the floor.
"I see," he says,"I see."
Urahara-san kneels in front of you and tucks the fan into his sleeves. He places one hand on your shoulder and smiles.
"You don't believe in us."
"Is there a reason to?" You ground out, wishing you had the energy to slap away his hand. No. It's not his hand. Not the real one. This is just a faux body. A gigai, Urahara-san had said. You are no closer to his true self than you are to everyone else.
"Touche," Urahara-san murmurs, his fingers stroking your hair. It irks you. Something about this man, this Shinigami, makes your skin crawl in anticipation of things that you refuse to think about. "What will you do if you face somebody who is capable of crushing your soul, then? Will you be too afraid to do anything other than glare back at him? Can you even fight back?"
Oh, this man was infuriating!
"Anything that exists can be killed," you jerk away from his touch, toppling backwards. Right. You have forgotten that your legs are still numb.
Urahara-san has you in his arms before you fall. You can feel the warmth radiating off from his gigai.
"That applies to you too, Mizuiro-kun."
"I won't die so easily."
His gaze is too invasive. You stand up on shaky legs, bow, offer a polite good-bye, and leave the shop before Urahara-san can say anymore.
It takes months before you meet another like him. You awake from a long, surreal dream to enter another.
"So, check this out. Stun guns, one for everybody." You smile cheerfully, ignoring Tatsuki's question of how you'd gotten them. Isn't it basic protection?
"They're useless," Tatsuki declares, "This isn't the kind of opponent those will work against. All he has to do is to get close to you and you can't move. And Kanonji's stick here turned to ash when it got close to him."
Blond hair, grey eyes and assertive touches.
"No way, what a cheater," you say blandly, "Guess he's not human."
You can't help wondering what might have happened if you had not fled that night. Out loud, you talk about how the stun guns should be put aside. No point in carrying useless baggage.
When the enemy finally arrives, you almost laughed. He was nothing like Urahara-san! You throw a bottle at him to test Tatsuki's words.
"Uwah, things really do turn to ash," you say in rapt fascination. The man, dressed in pure white clothes with a tattered collar, focuses his eyes on you. Black and gold flashes with amusement. You ignore the way his gaze sparks with sudden understanding.
Anything that exists can be killed. You throw the canister towards him, pushing the others away before igniting the expelled gas with a lighter. Tatsuki shouts something about you being insane, to which you shrug off with a placid smile.
You aren't too surprised when the enemy emerges unscathed. Disappointed would have been more accurate. It is a pity that you don't have more gas canisters lying around.
In the aftermath of things, including that really embarrassing episode of his memories being altered by Tsukishima, you find yourself standing outside a certain shop owned by a handsome shopkeeper who was, by no means, humble or ordinary.
"Mizuiro-kun?" There is genuine surprise in Urahara-san's voice as he steps out from a fancy set of traditional Japanese sliding panels. You try not to think of where it leads, where he had been, or how there are a couple more people dressed in black shihakusho with white haori draped in different fashions.
You smile, polite as ever, introducing yourself as Kurosaki Ichigo's classmate.
"How nice to finally meet Ichigo's colleagues," you comment as carelessly as you dare, "Oh! I must meet the ones who tried to kill my friends. Nothing builds a better foundation than bonding through murder, right?"
You flash another bright smile.
There is a tinkling of bells before you're staring into a one-eyed giant. He leers threateningly at you. Your smile widens just as someone in the background grouses something like not another Ichimaru Gin. You smile sweetly at the group of Shinigami.
"I like this kid! Join us when you're dead. Kenpachi's the name, boy!"
"Nice to meet you, Kenpachi-san. I suppose this lovely girl is yours?" You hold out a hand towards the puff of pink who slams into you in a high speed blur, knocking the breath out of you as you fall back.
You don't hit the ground. Warmth surrounds you as an amused chuckle tickles your ear. You shiver.
The hyperactive pink puff is still clinging on to you, shouting something about Pachinko and Yumiyumi and Braided Lady and you nod patronisingly.
"Still clumsy as ever, Mizuiro-kun."
Urahara-san's warmth seeps into your bones.
He is not in his gigai. The revelation startles you into motion, practically flinging yourself away from him and into a wall. No, that's not quite right. You look up to see a bemused Abarai-san.
"Yo, Kojima."
In a matter of seconds between the redhead's lips moving and the sound of his gravelly voice, you have regained your composure. "Hello, Abarai-san." The older man – much, much older, you remember, because Shinigami have all the time in the world – claps a hand on your back with an approving smile.
"Heard what ya did. Throwing bottles and some explosives at Aizen, ha! Damn brave of ya, Kojima."
Or stupid, you think, feeling Urahara-san hovering behind. Abarai's hand lingers longer than necessary before brushing innocently against the small of your back. You relax your muscles, wondering when you had tensed up.
"Aizen, hm?" you ponder out loud, "So that's what his name was..."
"Is." Urahara-san is standing beside you now, locking you in between him and Abarai. "He's still alive."
You remember the glint in those black and gold eyes. "Oh," you say, breathing a little faster. "Okay."
"Yeah. He won't be getting out, don't worry." Abarai says confidently, his fingers now settled on the curve of your back.
"I'm not worried about that. I just..."
There is a beat of silence before you feel Urahara-san's hand touching your arm. Then he is guiding you away from Abarai, who looks at you with a funny smile as he waves. You smile reflexively, aware of how Urahara-san is pulling you into the shop, past the aisles filled with candy, past the corridor and into a room. He closes the sliding panels and fixes a level gaze at you.
"What did Aizen Sousuke do to you?"
Aizen Sousuke. Now you have a name to the face.
"Nothing," you say, adjusting to the darkness of the room. It doesn't take you long to see that you are probably in Urahara-san's room. Where he sleeps. The place where he spends his time, lying on the futon and–
"What did he do to you?" Urahara-san is standing too close. It is just like that time, except that he doesn't use the fan to touch you. He's not wearing the ridiculous hat. Your heart hammers wildly, unable to understand what this was. Whatever this was.
You shake your head mutely.
"Oi! Mizuiro! Where are you? Tatsuki's looking for you!" Ichigo's voice is too loud, too jarring. You jerk when Urahara-san's hand covers your mouth. The blond's stubbly jaw scraps against your cheek.
"Do you know what I think, Mizuiro?" You quiver when he speaks into your ear. "I think that you're afraid. Afraid but curious. And selfish. You flit too close to us, then leave us hanging when you daren't take the next step. Do you think it's fun? That it's a big joke, playing with your life like that?"
You gasp into Urahara-san's palm when something wraps around you. Reiatsu, you think. That's what it is. The invisible pressure.
"Can you feel it?"
You nod. The reiatsu twines round your limbs, pushing you against the door. Urahara-san whispers a string of words into your ear. A poem.
The next thing you know, you're waking up to Ichigo's furrowed gaze.
"What the hell?" he pushes you down and shakes his head, "You're having a really bad fever, Mizuiro. You're lucky that perverted Getaboushi found you."
You must look confused, because Ichigo sighs and explains. "You fainted while talking to Urahara last night. He said you didn't look too well."
You look down at your hands, remembering how Urahara-san had leaned in to you, trapping you in an intimate position that almost makes you blush. He had been reciting a poem, and, at the end of it, had whispered something else.
"I've placed a kidou on you, Mizuiro. I'll know where you are. Know who you're with. If Aizen Sousuke ever lays a finger on you, I'll know."
"Hey, Mizuiro. You listening?" Ichigo looks worried. You smile, a genuine one this time, hoping he wouldn't notice the way your knuckles have whitened from digging into your own palms. If you close your eyes, you can feel traces of Urahara-san weaved into your skin.
"Mizuirooooooooooooooooooooo!" Keigo bursts into the room with a frantic wail, holding on to your hands as he sobs dramatically into the futon. Abarai saunters in after him, pausing when his gaze meets yours, then settles comfortably onto the floor next to Ichigo. You listen to Keigo's rambles and smile. It fades slightly when Urahara-san steps into the room, his hat in place with a silly swagger as he talks about nothing.
"Missed me, Asano-san?" You slip into your mask again, noticing that only one of the four others in the room fell for it. Ichigo's scowl seems to be angrier than usual;.Abarai's fingers keeps brushing against yours. Urahara-san sits diagonally across you, stirring his cup of tea every now and then. It takes some time before Keigo calms down and decides to "find his beautiful goddesses". You don't bother asking him which one.
Once he had flounced out of the room, the atmosphere turns chilly.
"What's really going on, Urahara?" Ichigo breaks the silence gracelessly.
"Oya, you break my heart, Kurosaki-kun~ I'm just a humble, handsome and–"
"Cut the crap, Urahara-san." Abarai says then, holding up your arm with an accusing look. "I can feel your reiatsu in Kojima. What did you do to him?"
"I'm right here," you say pleasantly, "So could you all stop talking like I'm not?" The three of them look chastised, though you are sure that Urahara-san is smirking under the fan. "Urahara-san helped me with something, so I'm doing him a favour. An experiment." Your lies are seamless from years of practice.
"What sorta experiment involves him marking you like that?" Abarai chortles disbelievingly.
"One that is highly classified," you say coolly. Your fingers touch Abarai's arm. I'm okay. Everything's okay.
Abarai doesn't look too happy, but he says gruffly, "You come to me if there's anything, you hear?"
Ichigo rubs his neck and sighs, "Don't do anything stupid." You can't help feeling that that is directed to Urahara-san too.
Soon, only Urahara-san is left. Abarai had returned to Soul Society, grumbling about paperwork. He dragged Ichigo along, saying that it was high time that the Substitute Shinigami "did his fair share of paperwork."
The room is quiet now. You close your eyes and try to get back to sleep.
"Not running away?" Urahara-san caresses your face.
"Whatever for?" You answer, leaning into his touch. A low chuckle sends shivers – nothing like the sort that Aizen Sousuke's presence did – down your back as Urahara-san embraces you from behind, spooning you in his arms. The both of you lay there, not speaking, for hours.
Then a thought occurs to you.
"You do know that this is cradle robbery, right?"
Urahara-san – Kisuke, he says slyly, call me Kisuke – snickers.
"I hope you're not complaining, Mizuiro-kun~"
You find yourself smiling.
The world is a game.
And you always knew you'd win.
A/N: Decided to shift this section here to avoid taking up too much scroll space at the top, because I adore Mizuiro and tend to get carried away when talking about him.
Though his 'womanising' ways is played down as nothing more than a gag, I've always thought that it was rather telling of his personality. His relationship with his mother is practically non-existent and we do not have concrete information about his father. What can be inferred is that he probably leads a relatively affluent lifestyle with the freedom to do as he pleases. He prefers older women because, unlike his mother, they provide a constant in his life.
The possibility of Mizuiro being bisexual is, imo, rather high. I imagine that he'd be attracted to men who have gone through many things in life, and cannot stop himself from wanting to know more about such people.
Then Urahara/Mizuiro, Renji/Mizuiro, even Ichigo/Mizuiro happened. Also the barest hint of Aizen/Mizuiro.
The kidou that Urahara casts on Mizuiro may or may not be real, because for all his brilliance, we also know that Urahara is a cunning man. Like Aizen, he is a master of mind games. Which brings me to my next point – what does Urahara really wants with Mizuiro? If you noticed, he doesn't actually say anything about falling for Mizuiro. Kisuke, is, I feel, an enigmatic man who gets caught up in interesting/intriguing/mysterious things and people. It might or might not be the same when it comes to Mizuiro.
For Ichigo, it's more of a 'I've got your back no matter what' sort of relationship. He keeps a lookout for his friends, especially after he learns of the crazy brave thing that Mizuiro did. It changes how Ichigo looks at his friend and he starts noticing him a little more. They are at that age where curiosity is a big thing, so it wouldn't be that surprising if there's some sexual tension there.
Renji, too, only notices Mizuiro after the Explosives vs Aizen Episode. It's easy to like Mizuiro because he's quite a pretty boy and Renji has a weakness for that.
As for Aizen, who knows what that man is thinking? He might have felt the slightest traces of Urahara's reiatsu on Mizuiro (when Urahara was exerting his reiastsu in the shop the night they followed Ichigo) and found it worthy of investigating. Could be a whim. Plus Mizuiro had tried attacking him with such... conventionally human methods. Aizen/Mizuiro is a pairing that I'm kinda in love with right now, ha!
Also, the inspiration for this story comes from the saying 'still waters run deep', which sums up Mizuiro rather nicely. Has he been planning everything from the start? Did Kisuke see through his game?
... I have no regrets.