Urahara Kisuke holds his creation for the first time.

He is pretty sure of what it truly is, but he's also quite as certain it would be better for everyone if he did not.


One, I'm pretty sure Kisuke never did the things Aizen did to create his hogyoku (you know, stealing from unsuspecting souls and everything), which means he found another way to create a monstrous thing witout sacrificing hundreds of people to get there ( incomplete or not, still monstrous).
Kisuke does do a lot of shady things, but he does truly shady things only when he has no other choices (or, you know, the risk involved with the other, "better" choice is so freaking high he'd rather not risk it, forthe sake of the worlds) (occasionally when he's really desperate, maybe; we all do rather problematic things when we're desperate)

Two, I know Aizen said Kisuke failed to identify the true power of the hogyoku he created. This is technically canon-compliant.


tags: Urahara Kisuke, Hogyoku, wishes, wish fulfillement, choices


A wish granted

Kisuke lets go of his bankai, Kannonbiraki Benihime Aratame's hands receding from his vision, to reveal the results of his work – he's taken reishi into his, or rather, into her hands, and he's restructured its very being over and over, until...

It is a small orb, shining in a feeble blue light. It does not seems like much, if eyes are to be trusted on this – they shouldn't be, though. Nothing here, especially not what Kisuke holds in his hands, is natural. He isn't quite certain yet of what he's created, but...

What do you wish for?

The question is here, in his mind, and it really shouldn't be there.

That is not something he can answer.

That is not something he should answer – what does he wishes for? Technically, a lot of things. He wishes to understand how the world works. He wishes to know what to do to make it better. He wishes to learn enough to help others. He wishes for no one to suffer, for everything to be perfect.

If he had to pick one thing, right now, well. He'd probably wish for a way to make shinigami stronger, able to endure the strain of a constant fight against the arid anger and the rabid hunger of the deceased who couldn't find peace in time. He'd wish for the fight to be easier, for the hollowed souls to be freed. He'd wish for a way to help, and that can be obtained only with knowledge.

Kisuke has his eyes on his creation – what to call it, at this point? He'd rather not give it a name, considering what he suspects. He'd rather not name it, when it could mean there'd be a proof, later on, of what he thinks it is.

What do you wish for?

That is not the question, though.

It's not about what he wishes for right now, or in particular. It is, if he has to guess, a larger question. One that demands a larger answer.

Large answers are problematic, in themselves. Too large a statement, and anything can fit in here.

Even paradoxes.

What does he wish for?

Mostly, for a better world.

But what of free will? What of life? What of equilibrium?

A world is neither good nor bad. It is, and only in this state of fragile existence can it continue to be. Perfection demands a still life, immobile and truthful in its limited state. Its contrary – not imperfection, as some would say, but rather the epitome of perfect horror – is not substainable, since it would be an impossibility brought to reality.

A world is neither good nor bad. It is, and that is all – false; it can change, evolve, and turn out for the better. Or not. What matters is that you cannot expect of the world to become better by itself, or without a price to pay. Sometimes that price is time. Sometimes it is much more terrifying.

What do you wish for?

He wishes he never had that particular question directed his way.

There is no answer he would rather give, for there is nothing he wishes for enough that he'd risk changing everything else in the wake of his choice.

In fact, yes. There is one. He wishes...

He wishes never to be tempted. He may not be sensible to the temptation right now, but one day... One day, he might be desperate enough, wounded enough, broken enough that he would make a wish. He cannot let that happen. No one should have such power at the tips of their fingers.

And for that...

Is that what you wish for?

It is no wish.

It is a necessity. What he created cannot be an object of absolute potency, able to grant anything one may wish for. And therefore, it shall not be so.

If he, who created it and is the only one to know of its existence, makes it so that he cannot but believe it is yet another successful and dangerous creation – but certainly no world breaker – then who could truthfully argue it to be more?

Such is your wish. And so shall it be.