Bleach Fanfiction: Urahara/Hirako 7/7
Title: Well, Would You Look at That
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hirako Shinji/Urahara Kisuke
Spoilers: up to 424
Summary: This is how it starts, and how it never ends.
( Prologue) ( 1) ( 2) ( 3) ( 4) ( 5) ( 6)
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Shinji walks, already grinning, up the back stoop, slips in the door and casts his shadow into the hall, looking in the direction of the open sliding door on the left behind which he can hear familiar, affectionate baby-shushing. He sneaks up and watches as Kisuke tucks his tired-eyed little girl into bed with a weird, warbling lullaby. She's looking very sleepy, and even though she looks sad as hell (like usual), Shinji can tell she's happy. She yawns prettily as she settles down. Kisuke kneels and kisses her cheek and pats her on the head, wishes her good night with a few adoring words of cute nonsense. Ururu is already asleep before he pulls himself up to stand with his cane.
"You're not leaving yet," he calls, his voice low. Shinji turns back around smirking and tips up his hat. Kisuke walks out and greets him with a kiss, which Shinji extends in duration and soon gets very into.
"You up for a round?" Shinji asks. "Or is it time for beddie-byes?"
The mischievous glint in Kisuke's eyes is his answer.
"Collapse, Sakanade."
Sparring with Kisuke is always a tremendous rush; he is endlessly cunning, has never used the same strategy twice as long as Shinji has known him. Each fight is more exhilarating than the last. And Kisuke loves Shinji's shikai, because it's just damn fun and neither of them can help but appreciate the "floor-to-ceiling" aesthetic of it. And although Kisuke often likes to pretend that he has a low pain threshold, it's decently uninhibited fighting, neither of them getting uptight about a couple of cuts or burns here and there. Shinji usually gets just a few more of them, but he can keep Kisuke guessing, too, and always manages to surprise him at least a few times.
Benihime is fast as a whip, and delivers a good sting. Shinji reaches up and pulls down his mask, and delights in the little flash of oh shit that crosses Kisuke's features.
But as he cuts a nice, hard one-hand drum solo on the edge of Benihime, he frowns. Kisuke is only blocking. Shinji doesn't think much of it, chalks it up to some new scheme. But it continues. Kisuke is only moving defensively, and that isn't fun at all. Defeats the purpose.
There is something wrong.
The mask?
"Kisuke. What gives?" He dispels his shikai, halts, and points to his mask with his right thumb. "You were never put off by this before. Or do I just have hollow breath?"
"What are you talking about? You smell as sweet as a rose, my love."
Shinji flips up the mask and looks at Kisuke, growing angry. "Soon as I brought it out, you stopped fighting. Spill." He is further confused when Kisuke immediately looks stricken. He sags down to sit on the low rock shelf behind him, and shows the ground a bitter smile.
"Game over, I fold."
Shinji waits for him to go on, still pissed but also a little worried now. Kisuke can't look at him."I've hardly slept since I heard what he said," he starts. "Now that I understand that it was my fault."
"Hah?"
"If I hadn't been obsessed with the fusion of hollow with shinigami, none of you would have turned. The Hougyoku would have arrested and reversed the hollowfication. You became visored because I desired it, not Aizen. He didn't give a fuzzy shit what happened to his used specimens after he walked away. I was the one whose will was answered by the Hougyoku that night.
"My hands were trying to restore you, but in my heart just I wanted to see what would happen, what a perfectly hollowfied captain-level shinigami would...I wasn't helping you. I made sure you all changed. Just because of an academic curiosity, a private interest...I destroyed you."
"Destroyed us? You arrogant son of a bitch." Shinji stabs Sakanade into the ground, burying the blade several inches. "I'm standing right the fuck here. You're calling me destroyed?" Kisuke looks up at him with dolorous eyes and doesn't answer.
"You were the one, Kisuke," he spits. "You were the one who felt at home there. Who longed to go back. You're the one here who lives with guilt. With regrets." Kisuke's eyes widen as Sakanade lashes up, and he just barely avoids getting his head cleaved in two from the front. He lifts Benihime and assumes a defensive stance.
"You're the one who was broken that night, Kisuke."
"You lost everything," Kisuke grits out, pained.
"I didn't lose you."
Kisuke stops and stares, lowering his blade fractionally. "I don't regret what happened," Shinji goes on. "In fact, I'm happy it did." Kisuke visibly flinches at these words, and Shinji uses the opening to give him a warning gash above the elbow.
"But I know it hurt you," Kisuke says miserably, jumping back and covering the stinging wound with his hand. "Even if you say that now, I saw how much it hurt you. I felt how much it hurt you."
"Not as much as you."
"You had to leave. In disgrace."
"Do you think I even liked it there?" Hirako stalks closer, his voice cold. "Do you think any of it meant as much to me as you?"
Kisuke bows his head and shuts his eyes. "I know you loved your men."
"And I believed in them. I knew they could wipe their own asses. Look at yourself, Kisuke. You're a goddamn mess. You know I don't like to talk like a know-it-all..." Abruptly he flashes up and grabs Kisuke by the chin, not letting him look away. "But you need to let this go."
He releases Kisuke's face and steps back. "And I don't care it was your 'fault'. You say you wanted us to change? Good for you. We all got stronger that night. Has Kurosaki Ichigo ever once complained that you hollowfied him? Why would we resent acquiring new powers? Yeah, it hurt. But it fucking doesn't hurt anymore. At least not us.
"Fuck Soul Society. I wouldn't go back for all the liquor in the world. That place isn't home to me anymore, maybe it never really was. Even in the back of my mind, I never think of it as a place to return to." He sheathes Sakanade. "I'm gonna stay right where I am, 'cause I like it here. Pinball, strip clubs, that little dive we like on nineteen and thirtieth. Ever since you moved in, the human world's been a pretty all right place."
"Shinji..."
"It's all over with, Kisuke. Time to put it to rest."
"What are you asking me to do?" Kisuke's voice is frail and contrite, and sounds almost disembodied.
"Just come out of hiding for the love of fuck. You've picked up so many things to hide behind. Hats and fans and storefronts. You hide your weapon in a crutch." He steps slowly up and again stands directly before Kisuke, looking into his eyes. "You've built up every barrier you can devise between you and your guilt. Did you think you've been hiding from me? Do you think I can't see you?"
When they were captains, Kisuke used to tell him sometimes that his hair was beautiful. He'd gushed about it once when he was off his face on cherry brandy, and Shinji had accused him of hair fetishism. Kisuke had sobered and said, "No, no. You're beautiful, Hirako-san. You are." Shinji was stunned, and insulted, and embarrassed, and really angry, and felt like he'd just been named king of all heaven and earth.
"I'm looking at you right now, Kisuke." Could he say that?
Well, what the hell, anyway?
He does.
Kisuke's eyes grow wider than Shinji has ever seen them, and he drops his sword. There's a certain kind of triumph, Shinji finds, that comes of leaving Urahara Kisuke perfectly gobsmacked.
He waits. It feels as though they've now advanced beyond every barrier that ever was between them, and now they're alone. Hesitantly, timidly, Kisuke draws closer and whispers, "'I wouldn't change a thing about you. I love you just as you are.' I thought I was horrible for thinking that." Trembling faintly from emotion, he touches Shinji's chin with his first two fingers.
"I was terrified that I would forget myself and say that to you. I thought it was so despicable of me. To desire, to cherish a part of you that hurts you, that ruined you. I can't tell you how I've hated myself for loving you this way."
"Oh, shut it, will ya? I've known that all along." Shinji lets his sword drop down to rest beside Benihime. "I've always known what you mean. When you tell me you love me, I know exactly how you mean it. You don't have to spell it out for me, because you've been goddamn proving it to me for more than a hundred years. There's no way I could misunderstand. Have you been understanding me? 'Cause I want you to.
"I want you to know that I even love your disastrous goddamn morbid curiosity about the most MONSTROUS GODDAMNED THINGS. I know about the macrocephalous baby you have pickled in a jar and I think it's cute. There, you made me say it. Jesus God of Fuck-it-all. How could I get mad at you for loving my black eyes when I fucking love your botulism collection? Your human decomposition scrapbook?" He accepts Urahara into his arms, and pulls him in tight.
"None of the old bullshit matters anymore," he goes on, "'cause we're fucking still here. We finished it. Aizen's gone, we're not, all of us lived, even Mashiro lived. Why hang on to the shitty parts of the past? We're all done with them now, we can't use them anymore. We saw the end of the end and we're still around. We fucking made it."
"So, what you're saying is...we win?"
"We're alive, ain't we? As alive as two dead bastards can be."
There's a pointed pause while Kisuke lets that idea sink in. And then he laughs his secret laugh, sudden and musical and beautiful, and Shinji watches with wonder that he conceals as Kisuke's eyes grow unshadowed.
"What did you bring tonight?" is the first thing Kisuke says, utterly lovesick.
"A little blast from the past," Shinji answers through his wickedest grin.
They arrive back upstairs exhausted from laughing, their arms slung around each other's shoulders, and tumble out the front door into the gray, pre-dawn light.
"-don't know what you're referring to, I'm sure I've never heard any such thing-"
"Anyway, jig's up. Yoruichi told me all about it..."
"...N..n-not about how I stillcuddlewithyouroldgigai after all this time! How did she know?!"
"...Actually, she did mention that. I thought she was joking. Are you really that sick?"
"Sometimes at night, you're not there and I miss you and it's cold..."
"She told me in the summer. But that's not what I was talking about."
"But Hirako-san, if I could just add something first...I mean I just want to let you know..." Kisuke takes a deep, bracing breath, "that I never miscalculated your...proportions..."
"Do you think about anything but my cock? Look, shut up about that. I want to settle something up between us, once and for all."
"Hooooh?"
"You or me...who's got the moves?"
Ishida, who is escorting Ichigo home, pauses in his stride, even though his aim is to arrive at his destination before the sun comes up. He has heard an unusual sound.
"Ichigo, who would be blaring music at this hour?"
"Plenty of people. This isn't exactly a quiet neighborhood."
"It's coming from over there. The Urahara shop?" The sound is tinny, but the music is good. They aren't very far from the shop anyway, and Ichigo has learned to indulge his lame secret boyfriend's snooping instincts, so he just walks by Ishida's side for about a block until they both pause to peer into the front yard of Urahara Shoten from across the street.
And they observe Urahara, along with another person who looks exactly like Hirako Shinji, on opposite sides of the yard...b-boying.
B-boying like the world's gonna end.
Urahara executes a magnificent drop right into a fast headspin, clogs in the air. Shinji is using footwork that would put a centipede to shame. He tucks into a spin, on one elbow, twirling his hat with one foot...then neatly flipping it onto the other. Not to be outdone, Urahara freezes about 25º into a cartwheel, tips his hat off onto his shoulder, and suddenly brings his opposite arm around and pulls a rabbit out of it, all while dropping gracefully down into a perfect shoulder-spin.
The rabbit runs away.
They watch, unable to look away as the performance continues. Then, abruptly, Hirako falls on his head and apparently breaks his neck, while Urahara knees himself in the face and wobbles in place before flopping back into the dirt. After a few seconds, the two of them leap up, turn around, and huddle closely over what appears to be a small fire extinguisher, talking fast and giggling.
Then Urahara straightens up, snatches a hand away from Hirako's face and bellows, "GOT YOUR NOSE!!"
CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACKCLACKCLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK, he takes off pounding down the sidewalk in his geta, running like his ass is on fire, holding his hat on and carrying the fire extinguisher-or maybe a very small helium tank?-tucked under one arm.
"Can't catch me! CAN'T CATCH ME!" he screams at the sky, and cackles like a villain. They then watch a slender blond blur launch and go streaking off behind him.
"Okay," starts Ichigo. "First of all, I've never seen anyone moonwalk that fast."
Ishida nods.
"Secondly, I've never seen anyone moonwalk upside down."
"Something in my heart just vomited," Ishida agrees.
They arrive at the deserted neighborhood park and kick off their shoes and clogs and go stomping through the sprinklers, until the tip-top of the sun crawls up into view beyond the crabapple trees, spilling gold and violet that the dim blue sky soaks up like a paper towel. The air is still and feels like magic, and the misting jets of water feel delightful as they soak their clothes, and they zig-zag around, running and jumping and occasionally tripping each other. Finally, they race up a hill on the very edge of the park where the grass is unmowed, untreated, and quite dry. On top of this hill is a very old maple fitted with a tire swing, and Kisuke sits in it and Shinji pushes him hard with one foot, and they toss the can of nitrous back and forth while Kisuke practices his yodeling.
"Push me really high! I wanna see how far I can jump."
"I don't think you can get any higher," Shinji sniggers, and Kisuke laughs and loses his balance, tips out of the swing and falls down on his right shoulder in a patch of dust. Shinji laughs at him until Kisuke kicks out his legs and he falls, too, and they wrestle until their soaking wet clothes are entirely covered in dust and sand, and then they pencil-roll down the hill, Kisuke first, and Shinji gets a twig in his hair and Kisuke doesn't tell him.
The sun is up all the way when they grab their shoes (and clogs) make their way back to the front of the shop, Shinji having to slug Kisuke twice for trying to hold his hand. They overturn two empty milk crates and sit down on them, and blow soap bubbles to calm down, their nineteen-year-old boom box beside them coughing and screaming Dizzy Gillespie like a fog horn with a tic disorder.
"Hey," says Shinji. "Go in and get out your Ornette Coleman tape."
"Ornette? We wore him out."
"What?"
"Years ago. You have a record though, Hirako-san."
"That's back at the...place that I don't remember where it is. Fuck. Fuck, I fucking love you. Fuck."
"That's nice. Do you know any other words?"
"How about, 'Go lick a goat scrotum'?"
"What? Oh dear, I don't have one of those!" He puts the bottle of bubble soap down and stands up on his milk crate. "HELL~OOOO? DOES ANYBODY HAVE A GOAT SAC? I URGENTLY NEED TO LICK ONE-"
"Kisuke, I'm gonna mulch you."
"The whatchihoo? Hee, hee hee. Where's my fan?"
"Hopefully in a consignment shop where it belongs."
Just as Kisuke sits back down, Jinta opens the front door behind them with a loud, sudden crack and steps out, looking like a mommy-badger who didn't get her beauty rest and is possibly hydrophobic. He's just seething with anger, but is at least smart enough not to blow up on his boss. His eyes settle on Shinji, who can't help but smile, amused at the battle going on in the boy's eyes, determining whether Shinji is an opponent that can be matched. Finally the suppressed rage is too much, and the gasket blows.
"DO YOU KNOW HOW LATE I WAS UP LAST NIGHT, CLEANING AND SORTING?"
"That's because you were running around with your remote-controlled airplane and knocked over almost everything in the pantry," Ururu observes from behind him.
"AND SWEEPING?"
"That's because you tracked in dirt on your shoes and then kicked over a big bag of flour."
"AND THEN YOU LET HIM PLAY THAT LOUD CRAPPY MUSIC AT FOUR IN THE MORNING!"
"4:41."
"IT WAS LOUDER THAN A FIRE SIREN!"
"Chill, kid, or you'll die young," Shinji advises. "Say, ya wanna try something cool?"
Jinta's eyes turn shrewd. "Is it that game where you throw knives at your own feet?"
"Naw, this is totally harmless, and only slightly illegal." He shows Jinta how to release the laughing gas. Jinta forces Ururu to try it first, not trusting Shinji.
She wobbles on her feet for a second and then gives the sweetest smile, and asks Kisuke-san if she could blow bubbles too, please.
Just as Jinta takes his first hit, the Dizzy tape runs out.
"Let's just turn on the radio," Shinji suggests.
"It has a radio?"
And so the early morning winds down into normal morning, with Jinta using his broomstick as a pretend-microphone as he howls along with the only radio station they seem to be able to pick up with a tinfoil-reinforced antenna. Ururu even provides backup vocals.
"Oh, who the fuck are YOU?!"
"Who who, who who," she sings.
But before long Jinta goes back to breathing furiously in and out of his toy harmonica, Ururu concentrating on her bongo set. A large, forbidding presence suddenly looms darkly behind the milk crates, and Tessai announces himself by cracking Kisuke and Shinji's skulls together hard enough to leave dents.
"Responsible adults should keep intoxicating substances out of the reach of children," he admonishes, and then serves tea. Yoruichi pads over and curiously sniffs the discarded can.
"I don't know why we're not getting any customers this morning," muses Kisuke.