Requested by Kiharu Lamperouge- thank you
Kisuke, Shinji and Isshin
This one did not turn out the way I wanted it to at all. Grr!
Conversations
They met irregularly and infrequently, because of the danger of three wanted and hiding shinigami all grouping together outside of the protective fields of Urahara's shoten and buildings. They never gave any regard to their past lives, perhaps because none of them wished to remember; instead, they focused on the present, on Isshin's family and Kisuke's business and Shinji's training.
And, normally, on a load of other, unimportant crap.
"Ever tried to catch a rainbow?"
"There's no way to catch a rainbow."
"Why not?"
"Because… it's not there, is it?"
"You always did quit early, Hirako."
They drank; they always ended up drinking a lot more than they had intended. Shinji drank imported whiskey, Kisuke stuck to sake, and Isshin's drink varied on what his day had been like and what colour the sky had been that day, or some other trivial reasoning.
"You seen these camera things these people have made?"
"They're amazing!"
"Let's take a picture now!"
"We don't have one, Kurosaki."
"Oh."
Their conversations always started off with a vague sort of seriousness that quickly descended into idiocy, mainly because of Isshin's constant attempts to keep things lightweight, as if he was afraid of any depth that could shatter the pseudo-perfection of the life he had carved out here. Even after the death of the human wife that he had taken he had refused to be drawn on the matter, resorting into stupidity to change the conversations. It was a wound he kept tight to him; one that was personal, and private, if not healed.
"Grapefruits, right. They're not grapes, and they don't taste like grapes."
"So?"
"Well… err… they're deceptive, aren't they?"
"They're fruit, they can't deceive us."
"Wanna put money on that one?"
"No, Kurosaki. Not at all."
But sometimes still they would see Isshin stare into his drink with desolate eyes, or notice Shinji's hand ghosting over his face in a subconscious fear, or watch Kisuke regard the horizon with a strange thoughtfulness that spoke reams of something that they did not understand, and whoever had seen would try and turn the conversation to something that would distract them.
"Did you ever wonder if the rest of Ukitake's hair turned white, too?"
"That is a disgusting thought."
"Ass, why did you put that image in my head?"
"Seriously though. Think about it."
"Hell no!"
"Urahara, you have issues."
But still, even within those alcohol-hazed, illogical conversations there came some words of meaning. There was a grain of truth within every madness, and if the three of them had learned of anything, it was of madness, and grief, and loss, and the best possible ways to hide if from the world.
"Have you ever noticed that your kid has some crazily intense spiritual power?"
Isshin half-smiled, and nodded.
"You're going to have to talk to him about what he sees, you know."
He nodded again, and the other two exchanged hopeless glances over his head, trying to reason with themselves, attempting to justify leaving Isshin's decision- foolish though it was- alone.
"Well, its not like he's ever going to be exposed to the shinigami, is it?"
"I suppose it isn't that important, after all."
Isshin nodded a third time, gratefully, and bought in the next round of drinks.