UraIshi AU Ch. 14
Title: Unravelling Threads of Fate
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: UraIshi
Summary: AU. Ishida has had a hard life. With the help of some friends, it finally looks like things are going to work out. When he meets a bizarre and cheerful man named Urahara Kisuke, the two are inexplicably drawn to each other. But when Ishida discovers the truth about Urahara's past and its ties to his own, difficulties arise.
Notes: I keep on forgetting to thank kirstian for her quick beta-read every time. XD You rock.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the genius KT. ♥
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13
The sound of feet pounding on the stairs caused Ishida to glance up from his desk to see who it was. Rukia arrived at the top of the stairwell, flushed and looking like she wanted to race over and tackle him; instead she appeared to reconsider and slowly strode forward, an eerily cheerful smile on her face. Her hand reached out and slapped something onto the desk.
“How was I not told about this, hm?”
He stared at her blankly - and a little frightened - until she withdrew her hand, revealing the studio key. The dark-haired boy turned to glance sharply at the man sitting by the window, narrowing his eyes accusingly. Urahara merely grinned with a shrug.
“I did say I would hand it over to her, didn’t I?”
“But that-!” Ishida released a sigh of frustration and reached out to pick up the key. He had forgotten about it after that night he and Urahara had spoken. “It slipped my mind and I left it on the table - you didn’t really think I meant to give it back after all that, did you?”
“Of course not,” he replied, calmly flipping a page of the magazine on his lap. “But that wasn’t what I said, now was it? I remember specifically saying that if you left that key there, I would hand it over to Kuchiki-san, which I did. And I was right, wasn’t I? She brought it right back to you!”
Ishida grimaced in annoyance and tucked the key into a pocket. “I still don’t see why you had to give it to her. You know how she reacts about these kinds of things.”
“That’s exactly why I gave it to her.”
“But of all people…”
“Ahem,” Rukia cut in, an eyebrow raised in amusement, “I’m right here.”
“Ah! I-I, er, that’s not…” he sputtered desperately, eyes wide in panic.
The tiny designer simply laughed and pat him on the shoulder. “Calm down, Ishida-san. I’m not offended at all. But,” a mischievous grin stretched her face as she gazed at him, “I’m not letting you get off completely free for that remark.”
“… what?” Ishida asked in a tiny voice, visibly shrinking down in his seat.
“Well, whether you had said it or not wouldn’t have made a difference about tomorrow’s events but since you did, all the more reason that you can’t back out of it. I’m getting some newspaper reporters in here to interview you about your future studio! Oh, that reminds me - I need to call them to confirm a time.”
The dark-haired boy started to sputter incoherently again and could only watch as Rukia sauntered off.
“B-but…”
“Why so worried?” Urahara’s voice drifted over to him with a trace of amusement; he could hear the man get to his feet and cross the room towards him. “It’s only a few reporters.”
“Perhaps I should define what ‘a few’ means when it comes to Kuchiki-san,” Ishida said. “The last time she told us she was going to bring some samples of fabric in for our opinions, we were here for five hours sorting through nearly a hundred different swatches by my guess. If I’m lucky, she’ll only have invited half of the twelve magazine and newspaper distributors in the city.”
“Ah, I see your point.” Urahara leaned over to lay a reassuring arm across his chest, chin resting atop the black head of hair. “Well, don’t worry! I’ll be here with you.”
Ishida smiled faintly. He cherished this feeling of comfort and for the past few days had wondered what it would have been like to lose it forever. A week was more than enough - apparently for the both of them. Urahara had accompanied him to work that day just to help along the delicate process of reforming their broken bonds; they had started the night Ishida forgave him.
After the older man had recounted his past, they had spent hours discussing things. Ishida had learned that Urahara had simply travelled for his fifteen years of absence; he had often stayed in small villages or towns, offering his medical expertise to those who needed it and sometimes learning other natural methods of treatment. It had relaxed him, taking away the heavy burden he had put upon himself, piece by piece, until he had felt that he could return to the city where it had all happened.
But Urahara had learned that running away was only a temporary reprieve.
Eventually the pair had lapsed into silence, simply sitting beside each other as if trying to make up for the time that had been lost. Ishida had cradled a rough-fingered hand in his lap, lightly tracing his fingers over the creases. A quiet, tentative question had ended up breaking the peace.
“So what happens now?”
Grey eyes that had flickered questioningly to Ishida’s face had forced him to try and sort out his tangled thoughts into words.
“There’s so much connecting us now and not all of it’s positive. Should I move? Should I stay here? If I stayed, would it even work? I do forgive you, but is that enough?” His forehead had creased. “Do we simply move on from this whole ordeal? Do we just forget it ever happened?”
Ishida had stopped when the hand in his lap had curled tightly around his fingers. He had glanced up to see Urahara staring at him intently.
“No, not forget,” the man had said softly. “Never forget.”
To forget is a hard thing to do but to remember is effortless when it involves matters of the heart. If they had both simply promised to forget all of the revelations and move on, they would have been building their new relationship on promises guaranteed to be broken - on lies.
To forget would be to deny any chance of finding out whether their relationship could withstand the consequences, whether this was something they could both grow and learn from… whether it was all worth it.
Urahara had already learned that trying to forget something so significant didn’t end well; he wasn’t about to make that mistake again.
After staring at the fingers wrapped around his for a silent moment, Ishida had nodded in agreement. They would remember. They would try to fix things. They weren’t going to give up.
Their relationship was shaky at the moment but stable enough and growing stronger.
All Ishida had to do now was hope he would survive tomorrow’s ordeal.
~~~
The sun was already setting - dreary clouds of rain grew darker by the minute. The lights of the city lit up the streets and after a few hours, car headlights from workers returning home filled the roads. All except those employed at MOD.
“What news do you have for me this week?”
Nemu’s eyes skimmed the list on her clipboard quickly. “Two have been removed to basement levels one and two,” she said. “Seven have been hired today and spent it in orientation. Three eventually agreed to comply to MOD’s regulations; four had to be sedated and should be recovering within the hour.”
“Good,” Mayuri’s mouth stretched into a frightening smile, “I’ll meet with them at that time.”
“I’ll notify you when they regain consciousness, Kurotsuchi-sama.”
The president of MOD nodded but from the way his eyes settled sharply on her, it was clear that his mind had already focused on another topic.
“And what of your assignment, Nemu?”
Nemu gazed at him calmly. He rarely called her by her name - he must have been getting impatient.
“There has been no change. It is confirmed that Urahara Kisuke is in the city but his whereabouts are still unknown. We have been able to track down restaurants he frequents through reservations but recently there has been no activity for unspecified reasons.”
Mayuri stood and stepped briskly over to her, raising an arm to backhand her sharply. The hand was brought forward several times more to slap her again and again. She staggered slightly with a hand to her face but remained silent; after all, she was used to it.
“Useless girl,” he spat. “He must have noticed your investigations. If Urahara Kisuke wishes to remain hidden, he is perfectly capable of doing so - you just need to be able to think ahead of him. That or hope he makes a mistake, which is far too rare of a phenomenon,” Mayuri muttered, turning back around to return to his desk. “On the other hand, the times he has made a mistake, they were severe ones.”
His daughter breathed slowly, carefully prodding her cheek with slender fingers before lowering her hand back to her side. It would be red and probably needed an icepack but that would have to wait until she was dismissed.
“I just have to wait for him to slip up somehow. Until then, keep watching for any indication of where he is and what he’s doing.”
“Yes, Kurotsuchi-sama.”
Mayuri didn’t even watch her leave, opting to return to his paperwork instead. His pen wrote what was needed but his thoughts were somewhere else.
It was entirely too frustrating. Nearly six months since the first rumours of Urahara’s return and he knew little more than he did that day. There were fleeting glimpses here and there of his presence - conversations, old reservations, purchases - but nothing reliable enough to trace back directly to the man.
He would simply have to be patient.
You’re going to be careless at some point, Urahara. And when you are, I’ll be there to take advantage of it.
~~~
The small crowd of people chattered to each other as they waited in the Hell Moth studio. Photographers snapped random pictures of their surroundings while others holding pads of paper scribbled notes. Orihime weaved around them with a tray, offering home-made drinks. The first few had accepted gratefully only to make strained smiles at her after taking a sip; the rest opted to politely decline after witnessing this.
Rukia made her way into the room followed by a rather nervous looking Ishida.
I can do this. This isn’t hard. Just tell them about the studio and my work and that’s it, right? He paused to eye the people who had turned to watch their entrance. … right?
“Welcome, everyone!” Rukia announced cheerfully. “I tried to invite all of the media companies today but it seems I could only contact eight of you.”
Ishida almost choked and tried to cover it up by clearing his throat. She tried to get all of them?!
The small, dark-haired designer continued on, ignoring Ishida’s moment of shock.
“I asked you all here because there’s a wonderful article waiting to be written! My assistant and talented colleague here, Ishida Uryuu, currently has his own studio in the process of being built.”
The interviewers murmured and moved towards Ishida, causing him to inhale sharply before slowly releasing the breath in an attempt to relax.
“Ishida-san, when do you plan to open your studio?”
“A-ah, I believe it’s supposed to be complete sometime in February…” he murmured, trying to remember how long Urahara had said the renovations would take.
“When did you decide to leave Hell Moth and form your own label?”
“I… I don’t-”
“What do you plan on calling your label?”
“I…”
“That,” Urahara said, stepping forward through the group to rest an arm around Ishida’s shoulders, “is a secret and will not be revealed until the opening day.”
When the cameras flashed in their direction, he smiled politely at them. “I ask that you not publish any photos of me, thank you very much. Just for my own personal privacy, as I’m sure you understand.”
“Who are you?”
“No one of importance but as I am the one who gifted the building to Ishida-san and the one who is overseeing the renovations, perhaps it would be better to direct some of your questions to me,” he replied easily.
Ishida glanced up at him with a grateful smile and Urahara sent him a quick grin in response.
“Now, shall I help you all write a marvellous article?”
~~~
The basement levels of MOD were almost always in complete darkness; only the hallways and the rooms with experiments in progress were dimly lit. The elevators in the building travelled no further than the first basement level. The stairs were the only way to get to the lower floors; after all, it wouldn’t do to have unwelcome visitors accidentally ending up on one of them. All of the walls were sound-proof creating an unsettling atmosphere on the way through each level.
There was no way of knowing what was being done to the workers that were brought down here - no way to hear their screams.
In a large room on the fourth basement level, there was a medical waste incinerator. Waste products from the upper levels were collected and deposited into this room every week and burned away at the end of each month. An efficient vent system transferred any fumes produced from the burning to the outside.
The incinerator was not scheduled to be lit but that night flickering flames could be seen through the air vents of the contraption. Two lone figures stood before it; one held a newspaper clipping.
“... ‘An avid supporter of Ishida Uryuu’s wishes to remain anonymous but states that he was glad to purchase the building for him and has high hopes for his success. He remarks that it is always exciting to find promising new talent.’”
Nemu watched as a slow grin stretched across Mayuri’s face, his fingers tightening on the article causing the paper to crumple at the edges. In her hands she held several other articles from multiple media distributors. The one she had given directly to Mayuri was the only one with a valuable photograph - in the top left corner was an unforgettable hat-wearing man.
“Urahara Kisuke,” Mayuri breathed. “I’ve found you.”
He almost laughed as he twisted the paper between his hands, balling it up and stepping towards the incinerator. The lid was opened with a hook and heat blazed outward into the room. Holding the wad of paper over the opening, the shadows playing across his face made it appear more sinister - then again, perhaps it wasn’t due to the shadows at all.
“My dear Urahara Kisuke. You’ve slipped up and made a major mistake just as I predicted.” The ball was dropped into the flames and turned to ash. “A little surprising to hear that family name after so long but in no way am I complaining.”
This time, he did laugh.
“You’ve made it far too easy for me.” Turning towards Nemu, Mayuri smiled and for once, she actually shuddered. “Locate Ishida Uryuu and arrange a meeting. I’m very intrigued to meet a survivor of one of my first projects.”
A/N: OMG two months to write this. Well, the next one will have to wait at least two weeks until I can start it. I hate finals, that is all. XD
To Chapter 15
X-posted places
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: UraIshi
Summary: AU. Ishida has had a hard life. With the help of some friends, it finally looks like things are going to work out. When he meets a bizarre and cheerful man named Urahara Kisuke, the two are inexplicably drawn to each other. But when Ishida discovers the truth about Urahara's past and its ties to his own, difficulties arise.
Notes: I keep on forgetting to thank kirstian for her quick beta-read every time. XD You rock.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the genius KT. ♥
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13
The sound of feet pounding on the stairs caused Ishida to glance up from his desk to see who it was. Rukia arrived at the top of the stairwell, flushed and looking like she wanted to race over and tackle him; instead she appeared to reconsider and slowly strode forward, an eerily cheerful smile on her face. Her hand reached out and slapped something onto the desk.
“How was I not told about this, hm?”
He stared at her blankly - and a little frightened - until she withdrew her hand, revealing the studio key. The dark-haired boy turned to glance sharply at the man sitting by the window, narrowing his eyes accusingly. Urahara merely grinned with a shrug.
“I did say I would hand it over to her, didn’t I?”
“But that-!” Ishida released a sigh of frustration and reached out to pick up the key. He had forgotten about it after that night he and Urahara had spoken. “It slipped my mind and I left it on the table - you didn’t really think I meant to give it back after all that, did you?”
“Of course not,” he replied, calmly flipping a page of the magazine on his lap. “But that wasn’t what I said, now was it? I remember specifically saying that if you left that key there, I would hand it over to Kuchiki-san, which I did. And I was right, wasn’t I? She brought it right back to you!”
Ishida grimaced in annoyance and tucked the key into a pocket. “I still don’t see why you had to give it to her. You know how she reacts about these kinds of things.”
“That’s exactly why I gave it to her.”
“But of all people…”
“Ahem,” Rukia cut in, an eyebrow raised in amusement, “I’m right here.”
“Ah! I-I, er, that’s not…” he sputtered desperately, eyes wide in panic.
The tiny designer simply laughed and pat him on the shoulder. “Calm down, Ishida-san. I’m not offended at all. But,” a mischievous grin stretched her face as she gazed at him, “I’m not letting you get off completely free for that remark.”
“… what?” Ishida asked in a tiny voice, visibly shrinking down in his seat.
“Well, whether you had said it or not wouldn’t have made a difference about tomorrow’s events but since you did, all the more reason that you can’t back out of it. I’m getting some newspaper reporters in here to interview you about your future studio! Oh, that reminds me - I need to call them to confirm a time.”
The dark-haired boy started to sputter incoherently again and could only watch as Rukia sauntered off.
“B-but…”
“Why so worried?” Urahara’s voice drifted over to him with a trace of amusement; he could hear the man get to his feet and cross the room towards him. “It’s only a few reporters.”
“Perhaps I should define what ‘a few’ means when it comes to Kuchiki-san,” Ishida said. “The last time she told us she was going to bring some samples of fabric in for our opinions, we were here for five hours sorting through nearly a hundred different swatches by my guess. If I’m lucky, she’ll only have invited half of the twelve magazine and newspaper distributors in the city.”
“Ah, I see your point.” Urahara leaned over to lay a reassuring arm across his chest, chin resting atop the black head of hair. “Well, don’t worry! I’ll be here with you.”
Ishida smiled faintly. He cherished this feeling of comfort and for the past few days had wondered what it would have been like to lose it forever. A week was more than enough - apparently for the both of them. Urahara had accompanied him to work that day just to help along the delicate process of reforming their broken bonds; they had started the night Ishida forgave him.
After the older man had recounted his past, they had spent hours discussing things. Ishida had learned that Urahara had simply travelled for his fifteen years of absence; he had often stayed in small villages or towns, offering his medical expertise to those who needed it and sometimes learning other natural methods of treatment. It had relaxed him, taking away the heavy burden he had put upon himself, piece by piece, until he had felt that he could return to the city where it had all happened.
But Urahara had learned that running away was only a temporary reprieve.
Eventually the pair had lapsed into silence, simply sitting beside each other as if trying to make up for the time that had been lost. Ishida had cradled a rough-fingered hand in his lap, lightly tracing his fingers over the creases. A quiet, tentative question had ended up breaking the peace.
“So what happens now?”
Grey eyes that had flickered questioningly to Ishida’s face had forced him to try and sort out his tangled thoughts into words.
“There’s so much connecting us now and not all of it’s positive. Should I move? Should I stay here? If I stayed, would it even work? I do forgive you, but is that enough?” His forehead had creased. “Do we simply move on from this whole ordeal? Do we just forget it ever happened?”
Ishida had stopped when the hand in his lap had curled tightly around his fingers. He had glanced up to see Urahara staring at him intently.
“No, not forget,” the man had said softly. “Never forget.”
To forget is a hard thing to do but to remember is effortless when it involves matters of the heart. If they had both simply promised to forget all of the revelations and move on, they would have been building their new relationship on promises guaranteed to be broken - on lies.
To forget would be to deny any chance of finding out whether their relationship could withstand the consequences, whether this was something they could both grow and learn from… whether it was all worth it.
Urahara had already learned that trying to forget something so significant didn’t end well; he wasn’t about to make that mistake again.
After staring at the fingers wrapped around his for a silent moment, Ishida had nodded in agreement. They would remember. They would try to fix things. They weren’t going to give up.
Their relationship was shaky at the moment but stable enough and growing stronger.
All Ishida had to do now was hope he would survive tomorrow’s ordeal.
~~~
The sun was already setting - dreary clouds of rain grew darker by the minute. The lights of the city lit up the streets and after a few hours, car headlights from workers returning home filled the roads. All except those employed at MOD.
“What news do you have for me this week?”
Nemu’s eyes skimmed the list on her clipboard quickly. “Two have been removed to basement levels one and two,” she said. “Seven have been hired today and spent it in orientation. Three eventually agreed to comply to MOD’s regulations; four had to be sedated and should be recovering within the hour.”
“Good,” Mayuri’s mouth stretched into a frightening smile, “I’ll meet with them at that time.”
“I’ll notify you when they regain consciousness, Kurotsuchi-sama.”
The president of MOD nodded but from the way his eyes settled sharply on her, it was clear that his mind had already focused on another topic.
“And what of your assignment, Nemu?”
Nemu gazed at him calmly. He rarely called her by her name - he must have been getting impatient.
“There has been no change. It is confirmed that Urahara Kisuke is in the city but his whereabouts are still unknown. We have been able to track down restaurants he frequents through reservations but recently there has been no activity for unspecified reasons.”
Mayuri stood and stepped briskly over to her, raising an arm to backhand her sharply. The hand was brought forward several times more to slap her again and again. She staggered slightly with a hand to her face but remained silent; after all, she was used to it.
“Useless girl,” he spat. “He must have noticed your investigations. If Urahara Kisuke wishes to remain hidden, he is perfectly capable of doing so - you just need to be able to think ahead of him. That or hope he makes a mistake, which is far too rare of a phenomenon,” Mayuri muttered, turning back around to return to his desk. “On the other hand, the times he has made a mistake, they were severe ones.”
His daughter breathed slowly, carefully prodding her cheek with slender fingers before lowering her hand back to her side. It would be red and probably needed an icepack but that would have to wait until she was dismissed.
“I just have to wait for him to slip up somehow. Until then, keep watching for any indication of where he is and what he’s doing.”
“Yes, Kurotsuchi-sama.”
Mayuri didn’t even watch her leave, opting to return to his paperwork instead. His pen wrote what was needed but his thoughts were somewhere else.
It was entirely too frustrating. Nearly six months since the first rumours of Urahara’s return and he knew little more than he did that day. There were fleeting glimpses here and there of his presence - conversations, old reservations, purchases - but nothing reliable enough to trace back directly to the man.
He would simply have to be patient.
You’re going to be careless at some point, Urahara. And when you are, I’ll be there to take advantage of it.
~~~
The small crowd of people chattered to each other as they waited in the Hell Moth studio. Photographers snapped random pictures of their surroundings while others holding pads of paper scribbled notes. Orihime weaved around them with a tray, offering home-made drinks. The first few had accepted gratefully only to make strained smiles at her after taking a sip; the rest opted to politely decline after witnessing this.
Rukia made her way into the room followed by a rather nervous looking Ishida.
I can do this. This isn’t hard. Just tell them about the studio and my work and that’s it, right? He paused to eye the people who had turned to watch their entrance. … right?
“Welcome, everyone!” Rukia announced cheerfully. “I tried to invite all of the media companies today but it seems I could only contact eight of you.”
Ishida almost choked and tried to cover it up by clearing his throat. She tried to get all of them?!
The small, dark-haired designer continued on, ignoring Ishida’s moment of shock.
“I asked you all here because there’s a wonderful article waiting to be written! My assistant and talented colleague here, Ishida Uryuu, currently has his own studio in the process of being built.”
The interviewers murmured and moved towards Ishida, causing him to inhale sharply before slowly releasing the breath in an attempt to relax.
“Ishida-san, when do you plan to open your studio?”
“A-ah, I believe it’s supposed to be complete sometime in February…” he murmured, trying to remember how long Urahara had said the renovations would take.
“When did you decide to leave Hell Moth and form your own label?”
“I… I don’t-”
“What do you plan on calling your label?”
“I…”
“That,” Urahara said, stepping forward through the group to rest an arm around Ishida’s shoulders, “is a secret and will not be revealed until the opening day.”
When the cameras flashed in their direction, he smiled politely at them. “I ask that you not publish any photos of me, thank you very much. Just for my own personal privacy, as I’m sure you understand.”
“Who are you?”
“No one of importance but as I am the one who gifted the building to Ishida-san and the one who is overseeing the renovations, perhaps it would be better to direct some of your questions to me,” he replied easily.
Ishida glanced up at him with a grateful smile and Urahara sent him a quick grin in response.
“Now, shall I help you all write a marvellous article?”
~~~
The basement levels of MOD were almost always in complete darkness; only the hallways and the rooms with experiments in progress were dimly lit. The elevators in the building travelled no further than the first basement level. The stairs were the only way to get to the lower floors; after all, it wouldn’t do to have unwelcome visitors accidentally ending up on one of them. All of the walls were sound-proof creating an unsettling atmosphere on the way through each level.
There was no way of knowing what was being done to the workers that were brought down here - no way to hear their screams.
In a large room on the fourth basement level, there was a medical waste incinerator. Waste products from the upper levels were collected and deposited into this room every week and burned away at the end of each month. An efficient vent system transferred any fumes produced from the burning to the outside.
The incinerator was not scheduled to be lit but that night flickering flames could be seen through the air vents of the contraption. Two lone figures stood before it; one held a newspaper clipping.
“... ‘An avid supporter of Ishida Uryuu’s wishes to remain anonymous but states that he was glad to purchase the building for him and has high hopes for his success. He remarks that it is always exciting to find promising new talent.’”
Nemu watched as a slow grin stretched across Mayuri’s face, his fingers tightening on the article causing the paper to crumple at the edges. In her hands she held several other articles from multiple media distributors. The one she had given directly to Mayuri was the only one with a valuable photograph - in the top left corner was an unforgettable hat-wearing man.
“Urahara Kisuke,” Mayuri breathed. “I’ve found you.”
He almost laughed as he twisted the paper between his hands, balling it up and stepping towards the incinerator. The lid was opened with a hook and heat blazed outward into the room. Holding the wad of paper over the opening, the shadows playing across his face made it appear more sinister - then again, perhaps it wasn’t due to the shadows at all.
“My dear Urahara Kisuke. You’ve slipped up and made a major mistake just as I predicted.” The ball was dropped into the flames and turned to ash. “A little surprising to hear that family name after so long but in no way am I complaining.”
This time, he did laugh.
“You’ve made it far too easy for me.” Turning towards Nemu, Mayuri smiled and for once, she actually shuddered. “Locate Ishida Uryuu and arrange a meeting. I’m very intrigued to meet a survivor of one of my first projects.”
A/N: OMG two months to write this. Well, the next one will have to wait at least two weeks until I can start it. I hate finals, that is all. XD
To Chapter 15
X-posted places