magnum opus has snowballed. A talented friend and writing partner has agreed to let me expand and explore an element of her story, Catalyst. I don't know if any of you have read it, and it isn't necessary to follow or understand magnum opus. But Catalyst is a wonderful story, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I have. That aside, a few tiny tweaks to the first and third chapters are on their way. Nothing life altering; just a few words here and there.


Musical Accompaniment: "Son of Man" by Phil Collins, Tarzan Soundtrack.


I'll be what you need, extending my hand across the line between our worlds. And if you are brave enough to take my hand in yours, I will never let you go. On that line, I will create a new world just for us. A home for you in the palm of my hand.

Shihouin Yoruichi was special, a child born at sunrise on the first day of the year. The long awaited 22nd heir of Shihouin-ke.

With solemn satisfaction, her clansmen said the time and date of her birth was an auspicious omen. But Yoruichi had no use for her elder clansmen or their opinions.

She only heeded her parents. To ignore them would be difficult because her parents were colossi: esteemed public figures and private behemoths. They mattered, their opinions like great pillars bearing the weight of Yoruichi's world.

Her father, Shihouin Tarou, governed the 2nd Division and the Clan with iron resolve. He seemed to know everything about everyone; their lovers and enemies, dreams and fears, talents and faults. Tarou made it his business to know. And though he was surefooted, Yoruichi's father invited the wisdom of others. Not just hearing but listening to those who depended upon his judgment to thrive.

To his daughter, he bestowed more than knowing eyes, not just ready ears and pretty things. Shihouin Tarou gave his daughter fierce love and a deep appreciation for her people. He gave her pride. And, of course, a legacy—the gift—of the Shihouin Cat.

Tarou's wife was his mirror image, left was right and right was left but still a perfect reflection.

Yoruichi's mother Tsubame was of Shiba blood with the trademark Shiba fire in her eyes. Willful and quick to smirk, a razor sharp tongue, Tsubame was the oldest of fraternal twins. As a child, she had been groomed as 17th heir of Shiba-ke, but Shihouin Tarou had different ideas.

According to the legend—Yoruichi regarded the fantastical tale as a legend more so than a history—her parents had met at the academy and "just knew" they were meant to be together.

Though Shiba in temper, Tsubame was a Shihouin at heart. She was an agile woman who rose rapidly through the ranks to become the commander of the Onmitsukidõ, a position traditionally held by a prominent member of Shihouin-ke.

Yoruichi's mother was unabashedly opinionated, a clever remark always dancing on her lips. While her husband gave Yoruichi pride, Tsubame gave her daughter conviction. And a penchant for curse words and easy laughter.

Her mother told their family's "utterly mawkish happily ever after story" more colorfully than her father with his sparse words and small smile; so Yoruichi believed the truth laid somewhere in between.

Whichever account was true, Yoruichi's parents gave her one other gift which she prized above the others.

Freedom.

They knew she ran wild in Rukongai to escape the scrutiny of the Clan, but they neither punished her nor had her followed.

Shihouin Yoruichi was free to discover the world in any way she pleased, running forward recklessly, grin broad. More often than not, running off to find her best friend Urahara Kisuke.

Uncharacteristically tightlipped, Yoruichi hadn't told her parents about Kisuke, and they never asked.

Still, she suspected they might know more than they let on. Once her mother had rushed home with fevered eyes, asking, "He's the one then?" When Yoruichi asked, "What the hell are you on about?" her mother had refused to answer. And later, at dinner, her father had seemed inexplicably sad, wearing a melancholy expression.

But Yoruichi did not comment; she did not demand an explanation. Because she knew, just knew, Kisuke was a part of this odd turn of events. It seemed to her that he was quickly becoming a part of everything.

So contrary. Kisuke was a secret in her heart which touched every place in her mind. He was a specter, an unlikely character in a daydream. Sometimes, Yoruichi woke in the middle of the night, wondering if he was real. Could anyone be so extraordinary; was it possible to be so immense and yet untouched? Untarnished by a harsher world Yoruichi could not understand.

This night, however, Yoruichi did not wake in the middle of the night wondering if Kisuke was real. Because she had not slept at all.

Yoruichi stole away from the Shihouin compound hours before daybreak, thrilled beyond mere excitement. She had planned to leave at dawn, but whiling away the nighttime hours—an eternity by her estimation—seemed a waste. So, she left before the Sun ascended, running east to she greet it when it rose.

Her particular mode of running was akin to darting, padding, leaping from great heights and always landing on her feet like a cat. Like a cat, she thought smugly, remembering her long struggle to be a cat rather than act like one. She had finally succeeded.

Hence, Yoruichi's stealthy exit and subsequent journey to District 31. Her impatience intensified as she darted, padded, and leaped.

Kisuke would be so surprised; he would have to concede that she was definitely the coolest.

Because, at the moment, Yoruichi was, in fact, a cat.

Kisuke had been a bit too self-important lately. He had managed the impossible—well, Yoruichi had thought it was impossible. Apparently, not for Urahara Kisuke.

Several weeks ago, Yoruichi had been racing Kisuke through the bazaar in District 4. She'd turned over her shoulder to check his progress, and as was her habit, Yoruichi stuck her tongue out at him because he was losing. Oblivious to the cramped street ahead, she'd tripped on a stack of ceramic planters, shattering several. Yoruichi's arms had shot out instinctively to break her fall, slicing her hand against one of the broken shards. But Kisuke ran to her side faster than she had ever seen him run.

He had taken her injured hand and closed his eyes tightly, whispering to himself, words melodious and indistinct. For an instant, their joined hands glowed white, but when Kisuke opened his eyes, the glow was gone. He released Yoruichi's hand, turning it palm up. The blood oozing from her cut and onto her clothes had disappeared. Only a rust colored scab remained to prove Yoruichi had fallen at all.

Aside from a few broken planters.

But one word had placated the angry ceramics dealer. Just a name. Yoruichi had not said it, but Kisuke had, nodding in her direction and declaring pointedly, "Shihouin-ke."

At the time, Yoruichi had been too mystified by Kisuke's healing magic to pay attention to namedropping, but she kicked him on the shin for it later.

Her ire passed quickly, but her curiosity did not. Yoruichi had asked Kisuke numerous times how he had healed her cut, but he trivialized her questions, enjoying her burning curiosity far too much.

"If you say 'I'm Kisuke's favorite hime,' I'll tell you," he had bargained haughtily.

Fat chance.

Still, Yoruichi wondered what he meant by favorite. A word like 'favorite' suggested that Kisuke had more than one princess, an idea Yoruichi found distasteful.

Privately, she did not deny his claim that she was his princess. Because she was.

But Yoruichi was not going to admit it aloud, not even to satisfy her curiosity.

Because Kisuke was already bigheaded, no need to inflate his ego further.

And because she despised the epithet 'princess.'

Originally, Yoruichi's disparaging opinion of the nickname was rooted in irritation more so than actually dislike. But her initial irritation had grown—matured, she thought—with every race she and her best friend ran, always ending with Kisuke conceding, "You'd think I would have learned by now. It is never smart to challenge royalty."

Yoruichi did not like his closing remarks one bit. When Kisuke dropped subtle hints that she lived in a different world, Yoruichi's chest hurt, a dull ache. And so, she grew to hate the word 'princess' because separation—an implied disconnection between them—was dishonest.

She had never felt so connected, so real to anyone.

Urahara Kisuke was a stranger and an old friend, someone Yoruichi had craved long before they had met.

Kisuke's life was different; she knew that. He was born as night fell on the last day of the year, a dark ending: the antithesis of Yoruichi's bright beginning. And his past was filled unfamiliar faces and places and feelings. He'd been alone in an unforgiving environment for a very long time. Everything he knew of mankind's coldness was in direct opposition to Yoruichi's warm home.

But he was family. He was the other half of her world.

She just knew.

And as night yielded to dawn, a short but frustrating forever, she found Kisuke in his usual spot. He was lounging in the expansive red oak in a secluded field beside a ravine; they had spent their first afternoon together in this familiar field.

Kisuke still liked to come here to watch the sky change and to "ponder matters a princess would not understand." When he said such things, Yoruichi gave him new things to think about: an extensive bruise or a new curse word she'd overheard her mother mutter.

"So, you're here," Kisuke yawned from his perch in the tree.

Managing grace despite his recent growth spurt—his arms and legs were currently too big for him—Kisuke jumped from the branch he'd been sitting on. He landed on the balls of his too big feet, falling into a squat right in front of Yoruichi.

Yoruichi the Cat.

More a kitten than a cat.

Her instant agitation was terrible, potent with grave disappointment. Kisuke was not supposed to know the little black kitten was really his best friend. Yoruichi had been counting on shock and awe. On impressing him. Stupid, stupid, stupid know-it-all.

"Forgive me, Hime, but I must tell you that you're very cute in a fur coat," Kisuke quipped. "Almost as cute as you are in person." Then, he reached out, slow and tentative, to scratch Yoruichi between her tiny ears.

If felines were capable of frowns, Yoruichi imagined hers would have been most severe.

However, she did not back away from his hand because it felt strange and wonderful. In her kitten form, she had never been touched before. Even in her daydreams, she had not imagined the intensity of the sensation.

Nor had Yoruichi imagined she could purr.

But she did purr, a supple vibration raising the hair on the back of Kisuke's neck. Barely placated by his rhythmic stroking, Yoruichi rubbed against his ankles, knowing this very feline gesture would amuse him.

And, of course, Kisuke laughed. "I might like you better this way. You're softer."

Smirking on the inside, Yoruichi extended her little claws, leaving three angry red lines on his shin. "You let your guard down," she wanted to scold him, but…

Suddenly static and absolutely dumbfounded, Yoruichi looked up at Kisuke questioningly. Did I just… talk?

That couldn't be right. Talking was not a part of the Shihouin legend; no one with the 'the gift' could talk.

Cats do not talk.

Rather than a baffled expression, Kisuke stared down at Yoruichi with naked speculation. He didn't seem at all alarmed by this mysterious deviation from Shihouin canon. Taking advantage of Yoruichi's shock, he plopped down in front of her, grabbing her tiny kitten body with both hands and lifting her to eye-level.

"Wh-at are you doing?" Yoruichi yelped, squirming and writhing, attempting to bite him.

"Checking something," Kisuke replied vaguely, lifting her ever so slightly higher and scrutinizing her body unabashedly. "Hmm. How curious," he murmured with the thwarted air of one denied a great treat. "You are still a girl."

As retribution for that keen observation, Yoruichi bite him ruthlessly, aiming to sever a finger. Or three.

She was indignant, positively brimming over with fury!

And she was embarrassed. Kisuke was not supposed to scrutinize her… lady parts. The fact that he had—that he had done so to determine whether or not she was still a girl—only fanned her burning rage.

Between clenched teeth, the fate of Kisuke's fingers in the balance, Yoruichi berated, "You! You, Rukon brat!"

Kisuke managed to grin past the pain, explaining in a rush, "Definitely still a girl, but you sound like a boy. Extraordinarily like a boy."

Surprise freezing fury, Yoruichi paused, unconsciously releasing his fingers from deadly peril. "Do I really?"

Listening to the timbre of her voice for the first time, Yoruichi said tentatively, "Urahara Kisuke is an immoral bastard." The tone was decidedly masculine, a smooth tenor. I do sound like a guy!

Bemused, Kisuke rolled his eyes, pulling her into his lap. "Why must you doubt me? I would never lie to you," he moaned wretchedly.

Yoruichi was hesitant to believe that because Kisuke was a liar. She'd caught him lying to almost everyone they encountered, and his lies rolled off his tongue with frightening and impressive ease. Kisuke was a natural chameleon, a one man act constantly switching hats to suit the situation.

Still, to Yoruichi's knowledge, he had never lied to her.

Leaning over, Kisuke ran an experimental finger down her spine. And again, Yoruichi purred, lower this time, a harmonic rumble so suggestive of grown-up things she blushed beneath her fur.

But Kisuke feigned ignorance, sighing in a bored sort of way, laying back on the grass and unfolding his legs.

Intentionally dropping Yoruichi to the ground between them.

Unable to decide if the gesture was merciful or teasing—he wasn't inciting purrs anymore, but now she was nestled in between his legs—Yoruichi hopped onto his left knee, claws grazing his skin, and ambled slowly up his thigh. Two can play that little game!

Then, Yoruichi hopped onto his chest, sinking her claws into the threadbare fabric of yukata, careful not to scratch his skin underneath. Her eye darted to his face, catching the ghost of a flustered frown. Satisfied, she curled up comfortably, whispering, "Just because I look like a cat doesn't mean I don't think like a girl; so don't do shit like that. You've a brain. Use it."

Kisuke did not argue. Yoruichi was often angry with him but not for long and never deeply.

The silence grew easy and familiar while they observed the last of fading stars. The peaceful quiet between them was hard to justify. Yoruichi didn't understand, could not find a legitimate reason for the sudden harmony in moments like these. Like everything was abruptly meaningful. She could see the equilibrium between hollows and shinigami, the ephemeral loveliness of humans. Yoruichi thought that time was odd and disjointed when she and her best friend watched the world spin.

She only knew time existed because she could hear Kisuke's heartbeat counting seconds passing.

A strange symmetry, the whole world spinning to the beat of her best friend's heart. Just like magic. Like his own brand of magic.

"How do you do it?" Yoruichi asked as the sky turned an opalescent indigo. "How do you know everything about everything? How'd you know it was me?"

Kisuke grinned hugely, rising on his elbows to see her face. "I know everything because you think I know everything. Perspective. And how could I mistake you for an average cat? Your eyes are the same, though maybe a little more… free." Then, he winked, shamelessly coy because he knew Yoruichi couldn't fathom his assertion that her big golden eyes reminded him of freedom.

Puzzled but vaguely pleased, Yoruichi scooted up his chest a bit farther, head on her paws right below his face and tail twitching in time with her sanguine thoughts. Impulsive, she licked the tip of his nose, wondering if it felt like sandpaper, wondering if he felt as whole as she did.

Kisuke smiled again, softer this time but equally delighted. His cool gray eyes were slate in the dim light of dawn, but something inside them, something deep inside, shone brightly for just an instant. "I have a present for you, Yoruichi," he whispered conspiratorially, "Something special I made just for you."

Yoruichi's tiny ears perked, curious but wary. Kisuke's presents were usually ridiculous: a cherry blossom which never withered, a snow globe filled of real snow, a nightlight which shimmered quicksilver. Kisuke liked to create absurd things, and Yoruichi knew that half of his inventions were the products of pure ingenuity. But she also knew that Kisuke tapped into his innate power, his reiatsu, to add magic and wonder his nifty contraptions. Though he was barely a teen, Kisuke could already control and manipulate his reiatsu.

Yoruichi could tap hers too, and it was gratifying to find a friend, someone her own age, who could comprehend and compete, always pushing her forward.

Even if Kisuke never beat her in a race.

Stealing herself and still a bit drunk on the residual contentment of watching the stars die away, Yoruichi murmured, "If it's for me, then it better special because I'm your favorite… I'm your girl."

Kisuke nodded seriously, lifting Yoruichi off his chest and sitting up. He placed her carefully on the grass before him. Staring opaquely into the nothingness above her head, he was quiet and still for a long moment, wearing an unreadable expression.

Then, Kisuke pulled a long black ribbon from his sleeve, holding it out for Yoruichi's inspection.

"A ribbon?" she mumbled blandly. Anticlimax, much?

"Nope," Kisuke replied quietly, weighing the silky strip of fabric in his hand. "It's a necklace. Or, it will be. I've been saving it until you mastered transformation. And now that you have, I wanted… I thought you might wear this."

"… Oh," Yoruichi said, voice dead. She stared at the ribbon, a building tumult of conflicting emotions surging in her heart.

He always said she was free. And Yoruichi wanted—more than anything—to be free because he needed her to be free. Perspective.

Yoruichi's eyes fell away. She'd be damned before she let him see how much he had hurt her feelings, a betrayal she hadn't thought possible. How could he do this to me? Am I… a joke? Just a play thing? A pet?

She backed away slowly, shaking her head, denying everything. "You made me a collar? A collar for what? Because you own me or something? I hate you Urahara Kisuke."

Ear pinned back, Yoruichi hissed, "You're not a brat; you're an arrogant son of a bitch. And I hate you!" incredibly cruel, a underhanded blow to his heart. Kisuke had been abandoned by his mother and never knew his father. Yoruichi lashed out at him, aiming low, because she was wounded, hurting him because she could. And despite her betrayed feelings, she quelled beneath his wide eyed stare.

Now, Yoruichi felt even worse.

Almost like crying.

The urge to flee surging, she fixed her thoughts on the horrifying image of tears for Urahara Kisuke lest she drown in the other, exponentially more horrifying thoughts. Mortified, Yoruichi spun to run.

But Kisuke snatched her tail just in time to impede her escape, rambling thickly, "You can leave if you want. I won't keep you here if you want to leave, but before you go, I just want to clarify a major misunderstanding—"

Immobile, resolve weak, Yoruichi did not struggle against his grip nor did she turn to face him. She just tamped her feelings, the maelstrom roaring in her ears. To listen because she wanted to believe there was a better explanation than the one she'd decided upon.

Failing to sound composed, he continued, "I suppose you could call this ribbon a 'collar' if you wanted, but it doesn't… it's not a symbol of ownership. I only… it's just, you will be able to sneak out more often now because you can transform, so I made this 'necklace' to give you a way to find me whenever you want. I chose a necklace because it will stretch and retract when you change forms. It will not fall off, and I promise it won't choke you."

Yoruich's right ear flicked, rotating in his direction and giving him confidence.

Voice rising, Kisuke explained further, "The fabric is very special, the longitudinal threads are just that: mundane silk threads. But the latitudinal threads are not really threads at all. They are strands of my reiatsu, solidified and tempered so they will not degrade over time. If you wear this, you will always know where I am because the fabric will resonate, even at a great distance."

"I bet you could even feel me in another dimension. If you choose to wear it, that is…"

Then, Kisuke fell silent, lost in his unique flow of a million thoughts, a million brilliant schemes and bright ideas. And Yoruichi wished she could see his face. She yearned to hear those thoughts, brilliant schemes and bright ideas, wanting to be a part of each and every one.

Unconsciously, Kisuke's thumb caressed the velvet texture of her tail, whispering, "I would never bind you. I only want to give you means to find your way back to me if you ever run too far ahead… I never seem to win our races, do I? Seems like I am always the one chasing you."

Then, Kisuke let go of Yoruichi's tail, his loose grip sliding away like nothing but leaving the impression of incompleteness. That he had taken something with him.

Yoruichi stood there for a moment, feeling stupid and unkind, deeply moved and very much in love with her best friend. Then, she turned slowly and said in an undertone, "Can you help me put it on?"

Kisuke nodded seriously, reaching out and waiting for Yoruichi to meet him halfway. And she did, lifting her head proudly so he could wind the thin black ribbon around her neck. Wearing a small smirk, Kisuke tied the ends in a little bow.

Yoruichi rolled her back and closed her eyes, familiarizing herself with the resonance: the faint pulse like a beating heart.

Head still high, Yoruichi fastened her gaze onto his, meeting Kisuke halfway one more time. She told him honestly, "Kisuke, I'm sorry. I should not have said that about your mother—It's true, of course. She is a bitch. How could anyone abandon you?—but I was wrong for throwing it in your face. And… I tried to abandon you too. You said you'd never lie to me, and you always say you like me best when I'm free. I doubted you, and then I hurt you on purpose, and then I tried to run away."

Yoruichi watched Kisuke's brows wrinkle under the weight of deep contemplation, tilting his head in that peculiar way she recognized. As always, he was hopelessly confused by the simplest things: why he mattered, how special he was, and how much she cared.

"I can't say I won't hurt you ever again. I can't even say I won't do it on purpose. But..." Yoruichi paused, finding the words on the tip of her tongue, tasting them and realizing they were truer than any she had ever spoke. "I won't doubt you ever again. And I won't ever abandon you."

Because she knew, just knew, they were meant to be together.

It took a long time for Kisuke to speak. He merely gazed back at Yoruichi, at the ribbon wound thrice around her neck. "You know, the collar isn't actually black," Kisuke observed, habitually evasive, but for once the attempt was pale. Yoruichi could feel the tenure of his heart in the ribbon. "In the sun, it's has a reddish patina. Like… right now, for example."

Yoruichi nodded blankly, diverted by his slate gray eyes. They'd caught the first ray of sunlight from the east and changed color instantly. She thought they looked like moonstones. Moonstones in the Sun. Contrary just like him.


Thank you, my little canary, for your trust, support, and confidence in my ability to bring this story to life. I promise to live up to the vision we've shared; magnum opus is dedicated to you.

This chapter is longer, but I just couldn't cut anymore of it.

Thanks for the first reviews. It's always hard to get the ball rolling on a new project, and early support adds momentum to the process.

~ Mare.