UraIshi AU Ch.20 (end)
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 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19
When Ishida awoke, the first thing he noticed was how much better he felt. His chest didn’t ache and his breathing wasn’t strained. A momentary sense of relief washed over him until his gaze fell upon the mound of black fabric sitting at the foot of his bed. Ishida stared, his fingers slowly curling around the sheets as he realized what it meant.
Urahara was gone. Made to work for someone whose morals were twisted, perhaps even locked away somewhere in MOD by this point, forced to endure experimentation by Mayuri.
His heart clenched as he struggled to reach the hat, forcing his body to shift sideways in an attempt to get a better reach. But his muscles were still too weak from the virus’ attacks and Ishida was forced to stop half curled in on himself, one arm stretched down the bed. He turned his face toward the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut in defeat while his glasses pressed onto the bridge of his nose.
Kisuke…
The sound of the door sliding open made Ishida lift his head. He was almost ashamed to admit that he had hoped it was Urahara but it was only Ryuuken, who stopped in the doorway and stared at his son twisted up in the sheets. The doctor’s eyes landed on the black hat and Ishida’s fingers twitching only a few inches away.
Feeling a rush of embarrassment at being caught looking so desperate, Ishida glared as he slowly straightened himself back up again, daring his father to say something. Ryuuken said nothing and stepped over to the chair that Urahara had been sitting in only hours ago to take a seat himself. Ishida watched him warily and gradually began to relax, his glare softening until his expression was merely somber.
“… how are you feeling?” Ryuuken asked after a moment of silence, his gaze fixed upon some random spot on the wall across from him.
“Much better.”
“Ah.” Another pause of silence. “You’re going to be observed for a few more days then tested to make sure the virus is clear. Once that’s confirmed, you’ll be started on a rehabilitation program to get your strength back.”
Ishida nodded and stared at the hat by his feet. His fingers wound into the bracelet on his wrist. Ryuuken’s eyes drifted to the small movement and he released something akin to a sigh. He stood and walked over to the window, bending the plastic blinds to observe the people at the nurse’s station.
“Uryuu,” he said slowly. “I feel I owe you an explanation.”
Ishida’s head turned towards him quickly, eyes wide in surprise. “What?”
“After you graduated, I didn’t want you getting into the medical field as that would inevitably lead to connections with MOD. I had no plans to leave my line of work so I felt that on your own, you wouldn’t be near that company or have the means of getting a career related to it, thus settling down for something more mediocre.” Ryuuken frowned slightly. “It appears that even with my effort it was the destiny of the Ishidas to remain tied up with MOD.”
Ishida had to keep himself from gaping at his father, speechless as he listened. Although Ryuuken had called it an explanation, it was, in essence, an apology. He stared down at the faded blue sheets, at a loss of what to say. It seemed that Urahara had been right about Ryuuken only wanting to protect him, though his method of doing so perhaps wasn’t the best.
The blinds snapped back into place and rattled quietly as Ryuuken withdrew his fingers, turning back around to face his son. “I suppose I should have said something back then rather than leave so abruptly but I would have preferred for you to break all ties with the Ishida family.”
“I’m sorry for leaving without a word.”
Ishida took a deep breath and carefully picked his words to avoid blatantly addressing the apology. “I’m happy with where I’ve gotten to,” he said.
“It’s okay. Things turned out for the better.”
He paused and added as an afterthought, “Thank you.”
“Hn.” Ryuuken stepped towards the foot of the bed and picked up the tattered black hat, turning it slowly in his hands. “… he sacrificed a lot for you.”
“I know,” Ishida replied quietly.
“However,” Ryuuken said, placing the item closer to his son who grasped it gingerly, “don’t underestimate the man. Urahara’s very good at getting out of situations that seem impossible.”
With those last words, he turned and left, leaving Ishida frowning down at the hat.
What did he mean by that? Could Kisuke actually be okay? Can I hold on to that little bit of hope of seeing him again? Fingers brushing over the dark fabric, he closed his eyes to drift back to sleep and released an inaudible sigh. I could…
~~~
Ishida stared out the window at the early morning frost covering the trees and ground in a thin film of white. After his tests had been cleared, he had been moved out of quarantine and into one of the normal hospital rooms. It was nice being able to see the sky again.
Despite the change in scenery and his slow but steady recovery, Ishida’s mood remained low. It wasn’t easily noticeable as he was very good at hiding his emotions, but to his friends, it was all too obvious. It was as if Urahara had and hadn’t existed those past ten months. They had seen how he had changed being with the man and now they could see how it had all disappeared, only with an added underlying sense of withdrawal. They worried about how long his mood would last, brainstorming ways to cheer Ishida up once he was released from the hospital.
However, one day when Rukia, Ichigo and Orihime walked into his room, rather than finding him staring silently out the window as usual, he was drawing furiously. Glancing up to offer them a quick greeting, he returned to his sketchbook, eyebrows drawn together in concentration.
Ishida had decided that to wallow in self-pity was pointless. It wouldn’t help him or anyone else and most of all… it wouldn’t be what he wanted. He frowned deeper at the thought, hastily pushing away the emotions that threatened to rise up at the image his mind formed of an infectious smile and soft blond hair. He was stronger than this - he wasn’t going to waste the opportunities given to him.
He wasn’t going to waste the sacrifices made for him.
Ishida had Rukia and Orihime bring supplies to him from the Hell Moth studio, stacking fabrics, half-finished outfits and sewing kits on the chair next to his bed. He worked hard, surrounding himself with his designs, stopping only for meals or his rehabilitation sessions.
Sometimes when Ryuuken was scheduled to be on-call, he paused during his evening rounds to look into his son’s dimly lit room. Watching Ishida work by lamplight, he was reminded of someone else.
But Ichigo, Rukia and Orihime began to worry about their friend though. Nearly three weeks had passed since Urahara’s departure and Ishida hadn’t said a word about the man, burying himself in his work instead. They decided to speak to him about it, concerned that his non-stop pace would delay his recovery or even cause him to become ill again from overexertion.
When they stepped into Ishida’s hospital room, he was crouched over some pieces of fabric, sewing them together with a few stitches to form the rough shape of his design. Since he didn’t have access to a sewing machine, it was all he could do until he was released from the hospital. The television played in the background, news anchors reporting about abnormal weather on the other side of the world. The trio eyed each other uncertainly before Rukia sighed and walked over to the bedside.
“Ishida-san… could we talk to you?”
“About what, Rukia-san?” he asked, continuing to create a neat row of stitches down the side of what appeared to be a shirt.
“We’re worried that you’re pushing yourself too hard - after all, you were extremely sick just a few weeks ago. Don’t you think you should slow down a little?” Rukia asked. She frowned as Ishida bit off the thread, only to tie it off and start sewing the other side.
Ichigo scratched the back of his head, idly staring up at the television. “What’s the big rush, anyway?”
“My designs are all for the summer, Kurosaki-san, Kuchiki-san. I want to have my show in April at the latest and I’ve lost a lot of time because of that illness.”
Rukia looked thoughtful. “Couldn’t you wait for next year’s-”
“No.” The firm tone of his voice startled them all, causing them to stare at him in surprise. Ishida released a quiet sigh and lifted his head to meet their eyes. “You have to understand… I can’t let this opportunity pass.”
The quiet that settled over them was filled with the news anchor’s voice. “… that the well-known facility, Medical Operations Department, has been reported to have become engaged in a conflict of management - details are still unavailable but a legal battle may ensue. In other news…”
Ichigo, Rukia and Orihime froze, eyeing Ishida cautiously. Ishida, however, appeared unaffected by the news about MOD and calmly returned to his sewing. Orihime hesitantly stepped up to the foot of his bed, tilting her head in an attempt to peer at his face.
“Ishida-kun…”
“If you all wanted to help me,” Ishida said, his voice revealing nothing about his reaction to the news, “you could start by handing me that white thread in the box on the chair.”
The three opted not to prod at their friend’s emotions but after some discussion, managed to get him to concede a little in terms of his workload. Rukia would take his designs and start crafting them with her staff, bringing the samples back for his input once they were complete. Once the option had been suggested, she had refused to budge, leaving Ishida little choice but to accept the offer. After his friends left for the day, Ishida sat back in his bed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he recalled an earlier conversation.
The only reason why he hadn’t been surprised at the news about MOD was because he had already been informed the day before about its possible media coverage.
Ishida had been carefully cutting fabric into the required pieces when a knock at the door had caused him to look up. Yoruichi had stared solemnly at him from the doorway and he had felt any words that he might have wanted to say stick in his throat. She had offered him a small smile and moved to sit on the edge of his bed.
“How are you feeling, Ishida?”
Swallowing, he had taken a deep breath before answering. “I’m doing well. And… you?”
Yoruichi had known he wasn’t asking about her health but the well-being of someone else and had smiled more reassuringly. “I’m quite sure he’s fine, Ishida, even with his current situation. I’m on my way to see him right now, actually.”
“Then why are you…?”
“I was told to come and tell you that you might start hearing things about MOD on the news in the weeks to come.” She had paused with an irritated look on her face. “To be honest, I have no idea what that means but then this is Kisuke we’re talking about, so he probably has something planned.”
Kisuke. He hadn’t heard, said, or even dared to think that name in weeks. He had worried it would hurt too much but now - now he had been given hope of a greater magnitude to hold onto.
“Yoruichi-san, how can you trust him so much?” Ishida had asked.
“I can tell you still trust him. Can you tell me why?”
“Because…” Ishida had sighed in resignation. “Because he’s him.”
“And there’s your answer,” Yoruichi had replied with a grin. “I need to get going, but don’t let whatever shows up on the news distract you from what you need to get done, okay? Take care of yourself, Ishida.”
“You too, Yoruichi-san.” As she had opened the door, Ishida had called out, “Do… do you think I’ll see him again?”
She had shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows? If you were meant to be, you probably will. I’ll try and visit again sometime, Ishida.” With that, she had walked out of the room.
Ishida released a frustrated sigh at the memory of the visit and picked up his needle again. Fate had brought him and Urahara together, had deemed their histories to be so entwined. Would it bring them back together or keep them apart now?
~~~
For the next few weeks, Ishida had little time to be concerned about what Urahara was doing. Rukia had taken his goal to heart and was reporting back to him almost daily with whatever progress had been made, lugging bags of prototypes in and out of the hospital. Ishida’s rehabilitation instructor had started to push him more as his strength returned, leaving him tired but satisfied with his improvement.
And amidst it all, news about MOD started to appear on the television and in the newspapers more frequently.
At one point, when Rukia had brought in a newly finished dress design, they had been discussing possible adjustments when the television announced a new piece of information.
“… has been confirmed that the former president of MOD who disappeared 15 years ago, Urahara Kisuke, is currently in discussion with the current president, Kurotsuchi Mayuri…”
Rukia had stopped speaking, biting her lip nervously. Ishida had simply released a quiet sigh before clearing his throat.
“You were saying, Kuchiki-san?”
A few weeks later, Ishida was approved for release from the hospital. Ryuuken gave him a farewell nod as Ishida made his way to the entrance to meet his friends - they were taking him out to lunch to celebrate. He was grateful to finally be allowed outside again and smiled and laughed when required, but something started to weigh on his mind as the lunch drew to a close.
Where would he go now?
He had no idea whether the hotel room was still being paid for, not to mention if it wasn’t, where all his possessions would have gone. The few items he had had at the hospital were in a small duffel bag he carried now. And if he couldn’t stay at the hotel anymore, what then? It would be strange to move back into the Kurosaki household and it would be intrusive to stay with Orihime or Ichigo and Rukia.
“Ishida-kun,” Orihime said, nudging his shoulder with a finger, “do you want to head to the studio to see what’s been done so far or do you have plans?”
Ishida tangled his fingers in the bracelet on his wrist, pressing his lips together lightly. “I actually… I need to go to the hotel.”
“Ahh.” Quickly deducing the problem, Orihime smiled brightly at him. “If you do need somewhere to stay, you’re welcome to come over again!” she said with a salute.
“Or you could come stay with us,” Rukia chimed in. “Especially if you feel like eating something… normal.”
“As if he’ll find that at our place,” snorted Ichigo, automatically dodging the fork hurled at his head.
“Quiet, you!” Rukia snapped. “It’s not my fault the recipes are so hard to follow - they should clarify that when they say ‘cups’ that they want them all to be the same size…”
Ishida could only shake his head and smile a little as the pair started to quarrel. It was kind of them all to offer, but he knew that no matter what he found at the hotel, he would have to find a place of his own.
Waving goodbye to his friends as they headed back to the Hell Moth studio, Ishida turned around, shifted the bag strap on his shoulder, and gazed over at his destination a few blocks away. The walk felt like it would take forever. It was almost like he was cursed, getting caught at every red light on the way. While he waited for the lights to change, the only things that continuously caught his attention were the newspaper stands and boxes, all displaying headlines to articles about MOD.
They weren’t front-page material, but the titles gave teasing glimpses of what Urahara could possibly be up to, the actual information hidden away beneath pages of murders and accidents and newly discovered medical mysteries. Ishida couldn’t help but find it a little ironic. Though he was tempted to buy one simply to see what was going on, Ishida decided it was better not to get caught up in it. He had the utmost faith in Urahara but things could still go awry - he’d rather live as oblivious as possible until he was absolutely certain.
But certain of what? Certain that Urahara would remain alive? Certain that he would come back?
There was no certainty in that.
Releasing a frustrated sigh, Ishida watched the lights switch colours and started walking. Enough of all this. For now, all you can do is focus on what needs to get done and hope for the best. He pushed up his glasses as he stopped in front of the hotel’s main doors. Everything else you can worry about later.
Ishida stepped into the hotel lobby, feeling a rush of warm air surround him as he left the chilly spring afternoon. The faintest aroma of cinnamon and dark chocolate filled the lobby - something that had become so familiar when he had lived with Urahara. Distant conversations could be heard coming from the lounge and bar, so quiet they almost blended in with the calm quiet of the hotel’s entrance.
At the front desk, Ishida rang the service bell, flinching slightly as the sound interrupted the peaceful atmosphere. A manager came into view, his face brightening into a smile of recognition.
“Ah, Ishida-san! We haven’t seen you here for quite some time. How have you been?”
Ishida smiled a little in return. “Good, thank you,” he said, offering a standard reply. It wasn’t as if the man really wanted to know that he had been in the hospital for the past two months, recovering after nearly dying from the same nameless virus that had killed all of his relatives 15 years ago. Not to mention, losing the one person he had grown to love to an insane scientist who appeared to have a strong desire to wipe out entire city populations.
Probably not.
“Wonderful to hear,” the manager said, with a small nod. “How can I help you today?”
“Well, I was wondering what the situation was with the penthouse suite under Urahara-san’s name. It’s to the best of my knowledge that he hasn’t returned for quite some time either and I’m a little worried about the status of our possessions.”
“Ah yes, Urahara-san hasn’t been here in at least a month - he’s gone on a business trip, I believe?” Ishida couldn’t bring himself to nod in reply, but the manager didn’t appear to notice. “Everything has been left as it was since the room is still being paid for, but I do recall some movers carrying a number of boxes out before Urahara-san left.”
“I see,” he said softly. “Do you mind if I go take a quick look?”
“Of course not! You are still our guest, Ishida-san. Ah, that reminds me,” the manager began to flip through a small stack of envelopes before handing one over, “there was a message left for you just a few days ago.”
Puzzled, Ishida took the envelope. “Thank you.”
“No trouble at all, Ishida-san. I’ll have someone accompany you to open the door, as we’ve changed the key cards since the last time you were here. Have a good day and don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything else.”
Ishida thanked him and turned to see a bellboy waiting by the elevators. Grasping the envelope with both hands, he walked over to them and stepped aboard. He watched the numbers light up one by one, reminded of the first time he had come to this hotel. The elevator chime rang and he followed the bellboy to the room on the left, unconsciously reaching for his pocket. Ishida stopped and slowly lowered his arm, remembering that he didn’t have his key card and that even if he did, it wouldn’t have worked.
The door was swung open and the bellboy turned to face him. “Go right ahead, sir. I’ll be waiting just outside the door.”
Nodding at him, Ishida stared into the unlit suite. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the room and flicked on the lights.
At first glance, it appeared as if there was nothing different from the last time he had been there. However, Ishida began to notice certain things missing and finally made his way into the bedroom where his suspicions were confirmed.
Though Urahara’s possessions remained, his had all disappeared, presumably in the boxes that had been moved a month ago. Even the paper cranes had been taken down.
Ishida sent a cursory glance at the wardrobe hanging in the closet and at the box of first-edition books at the foot of the bed before heading back out into the living room. He stood there for a moment, silently taking in the sight of the suite, before remembering the envelope in his hand. Sliding a finger under the flap, he slit it open and removed the note inside.
Ishida,
Your studio’s complete. Go check it out when you can - glad to have you back.
Take care,
Yoruichi
Ishida slid the paper back into the envelope and released a quiet sigh. Well, he couldn’t stay here, that was for sure. He might as well go see what the studio looked like before finding a place to sleep for the night.
Following the bellboy back down to the lobby, Ishida bid farewell to the manager and stepped back out into the afternoon sun. Starting to walk down the sidewalk, he left the hotel behind him.
~~~
Summer was approaching and the days were growing longer and warmer. The sun had just begun to set when Ishida reached the street crossing where his studio sat, dark and unoccupied. He didn’t know what to expect of the building - Urahara had refused to allow him to even step near the place after the interview incident so many months ago.
Steadily making his way towards the building amidst the people rushing past him on their way home from work, he tightened his fist, feeling the key imprint itself onto his palm.
The studio key had been one of the few items he had kept with him at the hospital and now he would get to use it for the first time.
Finally stopping in front of the studio door, Ishida took a deep breath and looked up - Urahara had never had a chance to tell him what the name of the studio would be. In an elegant blue font was the single word “Quincy”. He stared at it silently, touched that Urahara had chosen the name of his family’s former company. Perhaps all of those lost to the virus would be able to live on this way.
Uncurling his fingers, he took the key and put it into the lock, feeling the satisfying click when he turned it. The door swung open smoothly and his steps were muffled by carpet as he walked inside. Ishida let the door close behind him, effectively cutting off the din of traffic, and searched for a light switch. Finding a panel on the wall to his left, he flicked all the switches and flooded the room with a clean, white light.
If there had been anyone waiting for a response from him, Ishida wouldn’t have been able to give one. The interior was decorated in white and shades of blue, creating the impression of things being very clean and modern. The room he stood in had been set up as a small store front with a comfortable looking couch in the corner, while the doorway behind the counter lead into the actual studio area. Work tables, sewing machines, mannequins, and anything else he could ever need were already arranged in the large room; Ishida took a few minutes wandering around the tables, absently touching the new rolls of fabric and unopened packages sitting upon them.
On his second path around the room, Ishida noticed a door in the corner that he had neglected to see the first time. An attempt to turn the handle revealed that it was locked and he paused a moment to frown down at it. Glancing at the key still in his hand, he shrugged.
“Oh, why not…” Ishida murmured before attempting to insert it into the door.
The key slid in neatly and unlocked the door without a fuss. Opening it, Ishida blinked at the staircase, his eyes following the steps up into darkness. Touching the switch on the wall illuminated the upper level and he peered up at it curiously. He had no idea what could possibly be up there - from what he could tell, everything he would need to run his studio was already on the ground floor. With one glance at the room behind him, Ishida set the duffel bag down on the floor before turning back around and slowly making his way up the stairs, fingers gliding along the wall as he went.
Standing at the top of the stairs, Ishida felt his breath catch in his throat, completely in awe at the sight that greeted him. The upper floor had been renovated into an apartment setting: a large living room area beside a decent-sized kitchen and beyond that, a door which presumably led to the bedroom. Ishida removed his shoes, placing them on the small rack already sitting against the wall beside him, and stepped onto the plush carpeting. He glanced here and there, noting items he recognized as his own which had been placed thoughtfully around the rooms.
Walking around the small dining table, Ishida pushed open the bedroom door and stopped a moment in the doorway, staring inside at the strings of paper cranes hanging from the ceiling. He touched one lightly, sending it swaying back and forth as he entered the room. Inside the closet he found all his clothing neatly arranged along with the rest of his possessions packed carefully in boxes while the bathroom held his favourite brands of hygiene products; Ishida only took a fleeting glance at his reflection in the mirror, worried about what he might see on his face.
Slowly making his way back into the living room, Ishida perched on the couch arm, staring blankly out the window overlooking the busy street. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know whether everything had been planned in advance or if certain things, such as the paper cranes, had been a last minute decision as yet another farewell gesture. All he knew was that Urahara had made sure he would be taken care of and for that he was incredibly grateful.
Dwelling on what it all means is pointless, Ishida reminded himself, standing and reaching for his shoes. You have a show to arrange and now you have your own place to work rather than cluttering up Kuchiki-san‘s studio.
Stepping down the stairs, Ishida picked up his duffel bag at the bottom and went to lock the front door. He might as well start making himself comfortable in his new apartment.
~~~
“What do you think of this one?” Rukia asked, holding up one of the resumes that had been lying among many on top of Ishida’s old desk. He peered at it, skimming the cover letter and qualifications before nodding a little.
“She sounds competent - put her in the ‘maybe’ pile.” Ishida shuffled through the papers and sat back with a tired sigh. “Do we really have to do this right now, Kuchiki-san?”
She frowned at him, sliding the resume underneath the paperclip holding the other ones set aside for further consideration. “You only have a few more weeks to get your show ready, Ishida-san. Your studio needs a staff before then and you need time to judge how well they work with you.”
Rukia had set up flyers around her former school informing the students of Quincy studio’s upcoming debut and the response had been staggering - Ishida suspected that the past interview had had something to do with it. In hindsight, perhaps all the suffering that day had been worth it.
“That reminds me,” Rukia said brightly, “where do you want to have your show? It might even be too late now for a booking in April, but it’s worth a shot depending on the location you choose.”
“Well, I-”
The radio suddenly blared in the other room, the announcer’s voice stating, “The trial deciding ownership of the medical research company, MOD, is in session today. Curiously enough, Shihouin Yoruichi, a staff member at MOD, has left her position to take on the role as the lawyer for the plaintiff. More details as…”
The volume faded away and an apology was shouted out to them. Rukia glanced warily at Ishida as he adjusted his glasses and gathered the papers together into a neat pile. Clearing his throat quietly, he met her gaze. “As I was going to say, I was hoping to have my show at the same place you had yours. Do you think that’s possible?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she murmured.
The remaining weeks that lead up to the day of the show passed quickly. A capable staff had been selected and worked under the supervision of a select few of Hell Moth’s employees, Orihime being one of them. Ishida’s designs were being put through their final touches and at the end of each day, he found he was thankful having his bed just a flight of stairs away. By some stroke of luck, the building that had hosted Hell Moth’s show the past summer was available and a date was set for the end of April. Ishida paid little attention to the news, simply being too busy during the day and too exhausted in the evenings to do more than glance at the television or newspapers.
However, the day before the show, Ishida allowed himself time to relax. He forced himself to stop double-checking everything and remained upstairs, doing some general housekeeping before finally settling down with a book. Too restless to read for more than an hour, he turned on the television and idly flipped through the channels. Three letters flashed across his vision and Ishida quickly changed back to catch the news report.
“… has decided in favour of the plaintiff, Urahara Kisuke,” the news anchor stated calmly, an image of Urahara shown in the top right corner of the screen. “In an unexpected turn of events, accusations of criminal intent and several counts of murder were laid against Kurotsuchi Mayuri by the plaintiff immediately following the jury’s decision. A trial examining these charges has been scheduled for the following Monday.”
Ishida stared at the screen, fingers wrapped tightly around the cross charm that hung from his bracelet. He inhaled with a gasp, realizing that he had been holding his breath.
MOD… it’s Kisuke’s again.
Closing his eyes, he leaned back on the couch and let out a sigh. The only question now with his show less than 24 hours away was…
“Will he come?” Ishida asked himself quietly.
~~~
The evening was cool when Ishida stepped out of the building for a breath of fresh air. Rukia continued to insist in helping and was ordering the models around backstage while Orihime was busy directing the new staff to make a few last minute stitches. He sighed, watching the line of people shrink as they were slowly admitted into the building. A lot had happened to get to this point; some things he regretted, others he would never regret. Whether Urahara came that night or not, he had a new life ahead of him that could only flourish.
“Don’t they need you inside?”
Ishida turned to face the voice, blinking in surprise. “… Ryuuken? What are you doing here?”
Ryuuken glanced over at the line of people, his expression revealing nothing as he cleared his throat. “I felt I should see for myself what it is that my son does,” he said calmly. “Congratulations, Uryuu.”
“Thank you,” Ishida replied quietly, a faint smile touching his lips. “And you’re right - I should head back in. I hope you enjoy the show.”
He hurried back inside, nearly running straight into Rukia who had come looking for him.
“Ishida-san! Are you ready?” she asked with a grin.
Taking a deep breath, he nodded and straightened his suit jacket. “Let’s get started.”
The show went off without a hitch. Watching the models take their final walk down the runway, Ishida twisted his fingers in his bracelet. He’d realized that it had become a habit of his to do so when he was nervous. When the last model stepped past him, he walked out to a deafening applause and bowed politely when he stopped at the end of the runway.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said, glancing at the crowd. “It took a lot of effort to get here and I couldn’t have done it without the help of several dedicated friends. I’d like to extend my deepest gratitude to them and to all of you for giving a nameless designer a chance. Thank you again and enjoy your evening.”
Ishida let his gaze skim the applauding crowd again as he stepped back, freezing when he recognized Yoruichi smiling at him from the back. If she was here, that had to mean that…
There.
A flash of green and white caught the corner of his eye and he forced himself to stay calm, forced himself not to bolt off the runway that instant and instead slowly made his way backstage.
Picking up a small ice bucket he had hid in the caterer’s fridge, Ishida slipped past the groups of people and out a side door. Whatever anyone wanted to talk to him about could wait until after. He had almost started to feel stupid for going out and buying the bucket’s contents but now he knew that his gesture wouldn’t be wasted. He glanced around slowly at the exact place he had first met Urahara, on an evening just like this one year ago, and moved to sit down on the concrete steps.
Ishida waited patiently and inhaled sharply when he heard the sound of the door opening behind him. He turned, slowly lifting his eyes to the face of the man who still held his heart. Urahara let the door close behind him and smiled, taking a few steps closer but remaining a respectful distance away. He looked tired, which was understandable after the extensive court case that had just been settled, but otherwise in good health.
“Hello, Ishida-san.”
Three months. Almost three entire months since he’d last seen him. How he’d missed hearing that voice.
“Hello, Urahara-san.”
“So you knew I’d come,” he mused, reaching up to idly scratch at his neck. “Does that mean I’ve become predictable?”
Ishida couldn’t stop the smile that twitched his lips. “Anything but.”
Sliding his hands into his pockets, Urahara grinned, leaned back against the brick wall and gazed out at the dark line of trees beyond the parking lot. “You’ve been well?”
“Yes.” Ishida paused then nodded before repeating, “Yes.”
All because of you…
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Urahara said cheerfully. “I’d hate to think that all of it had been for nothing.”
Pushing the ice bucket to the side, Ishida gazed down at the bracelet; he stroked a finger over the charm while he pressed his lips together in thought. “Urahara-san, if you knew you were coming back… why did you make it seem like I’d never see you again?”
“Because I didn’t know.”
“What?” Ishida glanced up at him sharply.
“I’m sure you’ve had several people tell you that I always have something up my sleeve,” said Urahara, still avoiding Ishida’s gaze with his eyes shadowed by the striped hat on his head. “Though that may be true, in this case there was the possibility of it not succeeding. However, considering the circumstances, I was willing to take that risk,” he said, smiling softly, “and luckily it all worked out.”
“Did it?”
Ishida could hear him release a quiet sigh before he pushed away from the wall to take a seat on the steps beside him. Though the night wasn’t that cold, he could still feel the heat radiating off the older man.
“I didn’t tell you that I had a plan in mind because if things hadn’t gone the way they were supposed to, you would have been left expecting me to return only to be horribly disappointed. I felt it was better to have our farewells in case that really had been our last chance to speak.” Urahara sent him a sidelong glance with a grin. “Besides, if you had sat around waiting for me, you wouldn’t have been able to do the show in time.”
Ishida couldn’t smile back - there were still too many questions. Noticing Ishida’s lack of response, Urahara stared back out at the darkness.
“I know I must have hurt you and I’m sorry for that… but sacrifices had to be made in order to save you and to be quite honest, that’s all I was hoping for.”
Closing his eyes, Ishida pinched the bridge of his nose. He could argue with him - he could easily argue - but he didn’t feel it was worth it. Not for their reunion.
“Can I just know how you got out of that contract you made with Mayuri?” he asked quietly, curiosity audible beneath the words.
A smile curved Urahara’s lips again as he tilted his head in consideration. “I suppose, in a way, you helped.”
“How?”
“I had requested Yoruichi to write a very specific condition in the contract. All of the requirements stated by Mayuri would be fulfilled only if you were to fully recover, where recovery was defined as you no longer coughing up blood along with regaining your liver, respiratory and heart function. However, the wording of my condition gave me a very small loophole to take advantage of.”
Ishida frowned in confusion and Urahara’s smile grew wider in response.
“Can’t see the problem, Ishida-san? Well, luckily, neither did Mayuri. Do you remember how far the illness had progressed in you? You reached the stage of liver failure and were on the verge of respiratory failure,” Urahara recalled softly. “Now let me ask you this: how can you regain something you never lost?”
Ishida fell silent as he thought about it and slowly his eyes widened in realization. He had to clench his fists in order to keep from hitting the man. “You have got to be the most reckless person I’ve ever known.”
Urahara released a short laugh. “Yes, I know it was a huge risk, but I was willing to take it. The one thing I was desperately hoping for was that you wouldn’t lapse into heart failure before I could get the treatment to you.”
“But why didn’t you leave right away if you knew the contract was void?”
“I had to gain some evidence.” Urahara leaned forward, propping his chin up with one hand. “I’m sure you heard about the charges I laid against Mayuri. I took the few weeks I was there to first round up support for the proposed change in management, then I gathered as much information as I could about the experiments he was conducting in the basements.
“When I started to feel that Mayuri was keeping me around less for my intellectual contribution than just waiting for the moment he could ambush me with an anaesthetic, I decided it was time to reveal that I was under no obligation to stay. It was rather entertaining watching him rage away.”
Ishida stared up at the sky, at the few wisps of cloud drifting past the curve of the moon. “The court case now,” he said. “Do you really think you can win?”
At Urahara’s glance, he waved a hand through the air, groping for words.
“I mean, logically, with all the evidence that could be brought against him, the answer would be yes. But we both know Mayuri has connections and he’ll be doing everything he can to avoid being convicted.”
“You’re right,” Urahara answered, “but it‘ll be hard for him to try with all the testimonies I‘ve acquired. I tried asking a certain young lady to testify but she refused. I think you met her when you visited MOD.”
“You mean…”
“Kurotsuchi Nemu. She’s a good girl at heart - I think she just doesn’t know any better, having been around Mayuri for most of her life.”
“No,” Ishida said softly, remembering the expression he’d seen on Nemu’s face. “She knows but regardless of everything he does to her and to other people, she still loves him as her father.”
Urahara fell silent before nodding slightly to himself. “Speaking of fathers, did you see yours tonight?” he asked with a grin.
A frown creased Ishida’s forehead. “Actually, yes, I… wait, you asked him to come, didn’t you?”
“Asked, nagged, threatened, it’s all the same,” Urahara replied cheerily.
Shaking his head, a smirk curved Ishida’s mouth for a moment. “Well, thank you.”
“Not a problem. Your father’s testifying as well - he was one of the first to agree, actually.”
“One of the first? So he knew this entire time that you had a plan?”
“I asked him not to say anything - and be honest, Ishida-san, how often do you really speak with your father?” Urahara grinned. “I let Yoruichi go visit you because by that point I knew the contract was void, but I was still a little concerned of how much she might tell you, since I didn’t want you to become distracted.”
“Will I have to testify?” Ishida asked abruptly.
Urahara hesitated, turning to face him. “It won’t be necessary since your father is confirming all of your symptoms and I’d really prefer it if you didn’t, but if you insist, there’s no harm in it.”
“I want to.”
“Then I can’t stop you, can I?” Urahara said before shrugging slightly. “It’s your choice.”
Ishida frowned, his back straightening as he tensed. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, nothing.” The man paused before shrugging again. “Well, it’s just that if you consider certain past events, I’m not sure I’d trust your decision-making skills…”
“Oh, that’s not fair,” Ishida said bitterly. “I’m not the only one who’s made a stupid decision in the past, Kisuke. If you’re going to say that about me now, I could say the same thing about you choosing to even do this trial.”
“I was trying to protect you - then and now.”
“And I was too! Do you still think I went to Mayuri by myself just to spite you? I didn’t want you to have to deal with him after everything you’ve done for me and thought I could get him to leave us alone once and for all. Obviously, I made a mistake, but don’t sit there and act like I’m the only one who’s done something wrong.” Ishida grit his teeth as he glared at the man.
Urahara held up his hands in defeat and nodded, sighing slightly. “Okay, okay, I know. You’ve made your choice. It’s understandable that I couldn’t expect you to wait...”
Ishida felt his anger dissipate as he blinked in confusion. “Wait?”
“When I stopped by the hotel, they informed me that you had paid a visit a while back. I thought you might be waiting for me but it seems I was mistaken.”
Waiting for him? That means he was hoping I’d still be staying there when he got back. Ishida suddenly smiled. Whatever doubts he had about Urahara’s feelings towards him after their unexpected separation floated away and his smile turned devious. He wasn’t holding back now.
“Well, for one thing, none of my things were at the hotel so of course I couldn’t wait for you,” he said lightly. “And besides, I was waiting for you to come find me, which worked out quite well, don’t you think?”
Urahara spluttered and turned to stare at him in astonishment. “What?”
Ignoring the question, Ishida calmly turned to the ice bucket, asking, “Would you like some wine?” before pulling out a bottle and two glasses. A stunned silence was his only response, so he uncorked the bottle and poured the wine, offering a glass to Urahara.
At a loss, Urahara shook his head as they clinked the glasses together and took a sip. He frowned for a moment at the flavour before jerking his head around to stare at Ishida again. “This is...”
“Chateau Closerie du Grand Poujoux 1976 Medoc,” Ishida recited smoothly then took a sip himself. “I recall someone once telling me that they considered sex to be better than this wine. I think, from what experience I have,” he took another sip, “I’d have to disagree.”
Choking, Urahara set down his glass and attempted to clear his airway. Recovering, he eyed Ishida and slowly realized what was going on. With a quiet laugh, he said, “Come now, Uryuu, don’t you think that’s a little below the belt?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Kisuke. It’s been so long that I think I’ve forgotten,” Ishida replied with a growing smile. “Care to prove me wrong?”
Reaching out to touch a slightly flushed cheek, Urahara laughed again and shook his head. “You had me worried there for a moment. You know I missed you though, right?”
Ishida looked up to meet his eyes, fingers curling around the wine glass. Urahara gazed back, eyes soft and honest beneath the rim of the hat. Setting the glass down, Ishida licked his lips and leaned forward to kiss him hard, hands reaching up to pull off the hat and thread fingers through his hair. He savoured the feeling of Urahara’s lips on his, of arms reaching around to draw him closer, of the way the emptiness faded away.
Pulling away, Ishida smiled and pressed their foreheads together. “I know. And… thank you for the studio and the apartment, Kisuke.”
Urahara grinned and reached over to grab his wine glass. “You’re welcome. I thought it’d be useful to live close to your work and besides,” he said, taking a sip of the ruby red liquid, “there needed to be some place to move all of our belongings.”
“Our?” Ishida echoed.
“Unless you’d prefer me to stay at the hotel…?”
“No,” he breathed, “come to the apartment.” Ishida sat back and picked up his glass as well. “You put the cranes in the bedroom - I never did get to tell you what I wished for.”
“You don’t have to, I think I know. And it was rather successful!” Urahara said cheerfully. “But if there is something I want to know, it’s how you found this wine.”
Finishing the last of his wine, Ishida stood up from his seat and brushed off his pants. “Oh, that was easy. I asked Yoruichi-san a while back and just made a note of it. There turned out to be a specialty wine store just down the street, so I picked it up there.”
“You’re too clever for your own good, Uryuu,” Urahara replied, rising to his feet and handing his empty glass back to Ishida, who put everything back into the ice bucket.
“Perhaps,” he said with a smile. Taking a deep breath he paused with his hand on the door handle. “Kisuke, there’s one thing I’ve always been curious about. How many were there before me?” As Urahara opened his mouth to answer, Ishida frowned slightly and held up a hand to stop him. “And don’t tell me that you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Reaching down to pick up his hat, Urahara pressed his lips together in thought. “Several. A few. But not like this.” He shook his head once and looked away. “Never, ever anything like this, Uryuu,” he said quietly, and then looked up to meet Ishida’s eyes. “I promise.”
Ishida was silent for a moment before nodding with a soft smile. He believed him - how could he not after everything they’d been though?
Opening the door, the pair walked back into the large room filled with music and people, Urahara’s hand resting on Ishida’s hip. Things weren’t perfect - nothing ever was - but it was close. There were no guarantees for the future, nothing that could predict what life would hand them but whatever time they had together, they would cherish.
They had each other again and it was enough.
The End.
A/N: 63,438 words later and the AU is finally finished. It was a crazy journey and I'm so very proud of it. :D First and foremost, thank you to my beta, kirstian! For putting up with me and our late-night beta sessions and never complaining when I want to bounce ideas. XD
And thank you to everyone who read it! And hopefully liked it. ♥
For the surprise, Kirstian and I made up an FST for fun. XD You can check it out here.
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 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19
When Ishida awoke, the first thing he noticed was how much better he felt. His chest didn’t ache and his breathing wasn’t strained. A momentary sense of relief washed over him until his gaze fell upon the mound of black fabric sitting at the foot of his bed. Ishida stared, his fingers slowly curling around the sheets as he realized what it meant.
Urahara was gone. Made to work for someone whose morals were twisted, perhaps even locked away somewhere in MOD by this point, forced to endure experimentation by Mayuri.
His heart clenched as he struggled to reach the hat, forcing his body to shift sideways in an attempt to get a better reach. But his muscles were still too weak from the virus’ attacks and Ishida was forced to stop half curled in on himself, one arm stretched down the bed. He turned his face toward the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut in defeat while his glasses pressed onto the bridge of his nose.
Kisuke…
The sound of the door sliding open made Ishida lift his head. He was almost ashamed to admit that he had hoped it was Urahara but it was only Ryuuken, who stopped in the doorway and stared at his son twisted up in the sheets. The doctor’s eyes landed on the black hat and Ishida’s fingers twitching only a few inches away.
Feeling a rush of embarrassment at being caught looking so desperate, Ishida glared as he slowly straightened himself back up again, daring his father to say something. Ryuuken said nothing and stepped over to the chair that Urahara had been sitting in only hours ago to take a seat himself. Ishida watched him warily and gradually began to relax, his glare softening until his expression was merely somber.
“… how are you feeling?” Ryuuken asked after a moment of silence, his gaze fixed upon some random spot on the wall across from him.
“Much better.”
“Ah.” Another pause of silence. “You’re going to be observed for a few more days then tested to make sure the virus is clear. Once that’s confirmed, you’ll be started on a rehabilitation program to get your strength back.”
Ishida nodded and stared at the hat by his feet. His fingers wound into the bracelet on his wrist. Ryuuken’s eyes drifted to the small movement and he released something akin to a sigh. He stood and walked over to the window, bending the plastic blinds to observe the people at the nurse’s station.
“Uryuu,” he said slowly. “I feel I owe you an explanation.”
Ishida’s head turned towards him quickly, eyes wide in surprise. “What?”
“After you graduated, I didn’t want you getting into the medical field as that would inevitably lead to connections with MOD. I had no plans to leave my line of work so I felt that on your own, you wouldn’t be near that company or have the means of getting a career related to it, thus settling down for something more mediocre.” Ryuuken frowned slightly. “It appears that even with my effort it was the destiny of the Ishidas to remain tied up with MOD.”
Ishida had to keep himself from gaping at his father, speechless as he listened. Although Ryuuken had called it an explanation, it was, in essence, an apology. He stared down at the faded blue sheets, at a loss of what to say. It seemed that Urahara had been right about Ryuuken only wanting to protect him, though his method of doing so perhaps wasn’t the best.
The blinds snapped back into place and rattled quietly as Ryuuken withdrew his fingers, turning back around to face his son. “I suppose I should have said something back then rather than leave so abruptly but I would have preferred for you to break all ties with the Ishida family.”
“I’m sorry for leaving without a word.”
Ishida took a deep breath and carefully picked his words to avoid blatantly addressing the apology. “I’m happy with where I’ve gotten to,” he said.
“It’s okay. Things turned out for the better.”
He paused and added as an afterthought, “Thank you.”
“Hn.” Ryuuken stepped towards the foot of the bed and picked up the tattered black hat, turning it slowly in his hands. “… he sacrificed a lot for you.”
“I know,” Ishida replied quietly.
“However,” Ryuuken said, placing the item closer to his son who grasped it gingerly, “don’t underestimate the man. Urahara’s very good at getting out of situations that seem impossible.”
With those last words, he turned and left, leaving Ishida frowning down at the hat.
What did he mean by that? Could Kisuke actually be okay? Can I hold on to that little bit of hope of seeing him again? Fingers brushing over the dark fabric, he closed his eyes to drift back to sleep and released an inaudible sigh. I could…
~~~
Ishida stared out the window at the early morning frost covering the trees and ground in a thin film of white. After his tests had been cleared, he had been moved out of quarantine and into one of the normal hospital rooms. It was nice being able to see the sky again.
Despite the change in scenery and his slow but steady recovery, Ishida’s mood remained low. It wasn’t easily noticeable as he was very good at hiding his emotions, but to his friends, it was all too obvious. It was as if Urahara had and hadn’t existed those past ten months. They had seen how he had changed being with the man and now they could see how it had all disappeared, only with an added underlying sense of withdrawal. They worried about how long his mood would last, brainstorming ways to cheer Ishida up once he was released from the hospital.
However, one day when Rukia, Ichigo and Orihime walked into his room, rather than finding him staring silently out the window as usual, he was drawing furiously. Glancing up to offer them a quick greeting, he returned to his sketchbook, eyebrows drawn together in concentration.
Ishida had decided that to wallow in self-pity was pointless. It wouldn’t help him or anyone else and most of all… it wouldn’t be what he wanted. He frowned deeper at the thought, hastily pushing away the emotions that threatened to rise up at the image his mind formed of an infectious smile and soft blond hair. He was stronger than this - he wasn’t going to waste the opportunities given to him.
He wasn’t going to waste the sacrifices made for him.
Ishida had Rukia and Orihime bring supplies to him from the Hell Moth studio, stacking fabrics, half-finished outfits and sewing kits on the chair next to his bed. He worked hard, surrounding himself with his designs, stopping only for meals or his rehabilitation sessions.
Sometimes when Ryuuken was scheduled to be on-call, he paused during his evening rounds to look into his son’s dimly lit room. Watching Ishida work by lamplight, he was reminded of someone else.
But Ichigo, Rukia and Orihime began to worry about their friend though. Nearly three weeks had passed since Urahara’s departure and Ishida hadn’t said a word about the man, burying himself in his work instead. They decided to speak to him about it, concerned that his non-stop pace would delay his recovery or even cause him to become ill again from overexertion.
When they stepped into Ishida’s hospital room, he was crouched over some pieces of fabric, sewing them together with a few stitches to form the rough shape of his design. Since he didn’t have access to a sewing machine, it was all he could do until he was released from the hospital. The television played in the background, news anchors reporting about abnormal weather on the other side of the world. The trio eyed each other uncertainly before Rukia sighed and walked over to the bedside.
“Ishida-san… could we talk to you?”
“About what, Rukia-san?” he asked, continuing to create a neat row of stitches down the side of what appeared to be a shirt.
“We’re worried that you’re pushing yourself too hard - after all, you were extremely sick just a few weeks ago. Don’t you think you should slow down a little?” Rukia asked. She frowned as Ishida bit off the thread, only to tie it off and start sewing the other side.
Ichigo scratched the back of his head, idly staring up at the television. “What’s the big rush, anyway?”
“My designs are all for the summer, Kurosaki-san, Kuchiki-san. I want to have my show in April at the latest and I’ve lost a lot of time because of that illness.”
Rukia looked thoughtful. “Couldn’t you wait for next year’s-”
“No.” The firm tone of his voice startled them all, causing them to stare at him in surprise. Ishida released a quiet sigh and lifted his head to meet their eyes. “You have to understand… I can’t let this opportunity pass.”
The quiet that settled over them was filled with the news anchor’s voice. “… that the well-known facility, Medical Operations Department, has been reported to have become engaged in a conflict of management - details are still unavailable but a legal battle may ensue. In other news…”
Ichigo, Rukia and Orihime froze, eyeing Ishida cautiously. Ishida, however, appeared unaffected by the news about MOD and calmly returned to his sewing. Orihime hesitantly stepped up to the foot of his bed, tilting her head in an attempt to peer at his face.
“Ishida-kun…”
“If you all wanted to help me,” Ishida said, his voice revealing nothing about his reaction to the news, “you could start by handing me that white thread in the box on the chair.”
The three opted not to prod at their friend’s emotions but after some discussion, managed to get him to concede a little in terms of his workload. Rukia would take his designs and start crafting them with her staff, bringing the samples back for his input once they were complete. Once the option had been suggested, she had refused to budge, leaving Ishida little choice but to accept the offer. After his friends left for the day, Ishida sat back in his bed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he recalled an earlier conversation.
The only reason why he hadn’t been surprised at the news about MOD was because he had already been informed the day before about its possible media coverage.
Ishida had been carefully cutting fabric into the required pieces when a knock at the door had caused him to look up. Yoruichi had stared solemnly at him from the doorway and he had felt any words that he might have wanted to say stick in his throat. She had offered him a small smile and moved to sit on the edge of his bed.
“How are you feeling, Ishida?”
Swallowing, he had taken a deep breath before answering. “I’m doing well. And… you?”
Yoruichi had known he wasn’t asking about her health but the well-being of someone else and had smiled more reassuringly. “I’m quite sure he’s fine, Ishida, even with his current situation. I’m on my way to see him right now, actually.”
“Then why are you…?”
“I was told to come and tell you that you might start hearing things about MOD on the news in the weeks to come.” She had paused with an irritated look on her face. “To be honest, I have no idea what that means but then this is Kisuke we’re talking about, so he probably has something planned.”
Kisuke. He hadn’t heard, said, or even dared to think that name in weeks. He had worried it would hurt too much but now - now he had been given hope of a greater magnitude to hold onto.
“Yoruichi-san, how can you trust him so much?” Ishida had asked.
“I can tell you still trust him. Can you tell me why?”
“Because…” Ishida had sighed in resignation. “Because he’s him.”
“And there’s your answer,” Yoruichi had replied with a grin. “I need to get going, but don’t let whatever shows up on the news distract you from what you need to get done, okay? Take care of yourself, Ishida.”
“You too, Yoruichi-san.” As she had opened the door, Ishida had called out, “Do… do you think I’ll see him again?”
She had shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows? If you were meant to be, you probably will. I’ll try and visit again sometime, Ishida.” With that, she had walked out of the room.
Ishida released a frustrated sigh at the memory of the visit and picked up his needle again. Fate had brought him and Urahara together, had deemed their histories to be so entwined. Would it bring them back together or keep them apart now?
~~~
For the next few weeks, Ishida had little time to be concerned about what Urahara was doing. Rukia had taken his goal to heart and was reporting back to him almost daily with whatever progress had been made, lugging bags of prototypes in and out of the hospital. Ishida’s rehabilitation instructor had started to push him more as his strength returned, leaving him tired but satisfied with his improvement.
And amidst it all, news about MOD started to appear on the television and in the newspapers more frequently.
At one point, when Rukia had brought in a newly finished dress design, they had been discussing possible adjustments when the television announced a new piece of information.
“… has been confirmed that the former president of MOD who disappeared 15 years ago, Urahara Kisuke, is currently in discussion with the current president, Kurotsuchi Mayuri…”
Rukia had stopped speaking, biting her lip nervously. Ishida had simply released a quiet sigh before clearing his throat.
“You were saying, Kuchiki-san?”
A few weeks later, Ishida was approved for release from the hospital. Ryuuken gave him a farewell nod as Ishida made his way to the entrance to meet his friends - they were taking him out to lunch to celebrate. He was grateful to finally be allowed outside again and smiled and laughed when required, but something started to weigh on his mind as the lunch drew to a close.
Where would he go now?
He had no idea whether the hotel room was still being paid for, not to mention if it wasn’t, where all his possessions would have gone. The few items he had had at the hospital were in a small duffel bag he carried now. And if he couldn’t stay at the hotel anymore, what then? It would be strange to move back into the Kurosaki household and it would be intrusive to stay with Orihime or Ichigo and Rukia.
“Ishida-kun,” Orihime said, nudging his shoulder with a finger, “do you want to head to the studio to see what’s been done so far or do you have plans?”
Ishida tangled his fingers in the bracelet on his wrist, pressing his lips together lightly. “I actually… I need to go to the hotel.”
“Ahh.” Quickly deducing the problem, Orihime smiled brightly at him. “If you do need somewhere to stay, you’re welcome to come over again!” she said with a salute.
“Or you could come stay with us,” Rukia chimed in. “Especially if you feel like eating something… normal.”
“As if he’ll find that at our place,” snorted Ichigo, automatically dodging the fork hurled at his head.
“Quiet, you!” Rukia snapped. “It’s not my fault the recipes are so hard to follow - they should clarify that when they say ‘cups’ that they want them all to be the same size…”
Ishida could only shake his head and smile a little as the pair started to quarrel. It was kind of them all to offer, but he knew that no matter what he found at the hotel, he would have to find a place of his own.
Waving goodbye to his friends as they headed back to the Hell Moth studio, Ishida turned around, shifted the bag strap on his shoulder, and gazed over at his destination a few blocks away. The walk felt like it would take forever. It was almost like he was cursed, getting caught at every red light on the way. While he waited for the lights to change, the only things that continuously caught his attention were the newspaper stands and boxes, all displaying headlines to articles about MOD.
They weren’t front-page material, but the titles gave teasing glimpses of what Urahara could possibly be up to, the actual information hidden away beneath pages of murders and accidents and newly discovered medical mysteries. Ishida couldn’t help but find it a little ironic. Though he was tempted to buy one simply to see what was going on, Ishida decided it was better not to get caught up in it. He had the utmost faith in Urahara but things could still go awry - he’d rather live as oblivious as possible until he was absolutely certain.
But certain of what? Certain that Urahara would remain alive? Certain that he would come back?
There was no certainty in that.
Releasing a frustrated sigh, Ishida watched the lights switch colours and started walking. Enough of all this. For now, all you can do is focus on what needs to get done and hope for the best. He pushed up his glasses as he stopped in front of the hotel’s main doors. Everything else you can worry about later.
Ishida stepped into the hotel lobby, feeling a rush of warm air surround him as he left the chilly spring afternoon. The faintest aroma of cinnamon and dark chocolate filled the lobby - something that had become so familiar when he had lived with Urahara. Distant conversations could be heard coming from the lounge and bar, so quiet they almost blended in with the calm quiet of the hotel’s entrance.
At the front desk, Ishida rang the service bell, flinching slightly as the sound interrupted the peaceful atmosphere. A manager came into view, his face brightening into a smile of recognition.
“Ah, Ishida-san! We haven’t seen you here for quite some time. How have you been?”
Ishida smiled a little in return. “Good, thank you,” he said, offering a standard reply. It wasn’t as if the man really wanted to know that he had been in the hospital for the past two months, recovering after nearly dying from the same nameless virus that had killed all of his relatives 15 years ago. Not to mention, losing the one person he had grown to love to an insane scientist who appeared to have a strong desire to wipe out entire city populations.
Probably not.
“Wonderful to hear,” the manager said, with a small nod. “How can I help you today?”
“Well, I was wondering what the situation was with the penthouse suite under Urahara-san’s name. It’s to the best of my knowledge that he hasn’t returned for quite some time either and I’m a little worried about the status of our possessions.”
“Ah yes, Urahara-san hasn’t been here in at least a month - he’s gone on a business trip, I believe?” Ishida couldn’t bring himself to nod in reply, but the manager didn’t appear to notice. “Everything has been left as it was since the room is still being paid for, but I do recall some movers carrying a number of boxes out before Urahara-san left.”
“I see,” he said softly. “Do you mind if I go take a quick look?”
“Of course not! You are still our guest, Ishida-san. Ah, that reminds me,” the manager began to flip through a small stack of envelopes before handing one over, “there was a message left for you just a few days ago.”
Puzzled, Ishida took the envelope. “Thank you.”
“No trouble at all, Ishida-san. I’ll have someone accompany you to open the door, as we’ve changed the key cards since the last time you were here. Have a good day and don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything else.”
Ishida thanked him and turned to see a bellboy waiting by the elevators. Grasping the envelope with both hands, he walked over to them and stepped aboard. He watched the numbers light up one by one, reminded of the first time he had come to this hotel. The elevator chime rang and he followed the bellboy to the room on the left, unconsciously reaching for his pocket. Ishida stopped and slowly lowered his arm, remembering that he didn’t have his key card and that even if he did, it wouldn’t have worked.
The door was swung open and the bellboy turned to face him. “Go right ahead, sir. I’ll be waiting just outside the door.”
Nodding at him, Ishida stared into the unlit suite. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the room and flicked on the lights.
At first glance, it appeared as if there was nothing different from the last time he had been there. However, Ishida began to notice certain things missing and finally made his way into the bedroom where his suspicions were confirmed.
Though Urahara’s possessions remained, his had all disappeared, presumably in the boxes that had been moved a month ago. Even the paper cranes had been taken down.
Ishida sent a cursory glance at the wardrobe hanging in the closet and at the box of first-edition books at the foot of the bed before heading back out into the living room. He stood there for a moment, silently taking in the sight of the suite, before remembering the envelope in his hand. Sliding a finger under the flap, he slit it open and removed the note inside.
Ishida,
Your studio’s complete. Go check it out when you can - glad to have you back.
Take care,
Yoruichi
Ishida slid the paper back into the envelope and released a quiet sigh. Well, he couldn’t stay here, that was for sure. He might as well go see what the studio looked like before finding a place to sleep for the night.
Following the bellboy back down to the lobby, Ishida bid farewell to the manager and stepped back out into the afternoon sun. Starting to walk down the sidewalk, he left the hotel behind him.
~~~
Summer was approaching and the days were growing longer and warmer. The sun had just begun to set when Ishida reached the street crossing where his studio sat, dark and unoccupied. He didn’t know what to expect of the building - Urahara had refused to allow him to even step near the place after the interview incident so many months ago.
Steadily making his way towards the building amidst the people rushing past him on their way home from work, he tightened his fist, feeling the key imprint itself onto his palm.
The studio key had been one of the few items he had kept with him at the hospital and now he would get to use it for the first time.
Finally stopping in front of the studio door, Ishida took a deep breath and looked up - Urahara had never had a chance to tell him what the name of the studio would be. In an elegant blue font was the single word “Quincy”. He stared at it silently, touched that Urahara had chosen the name of his family’s former company. Perhaps all of those lost to the virus would be able to live on this way.
Uncurling his fingers, he took the key and put it into the lock, feeling the satisfying click when he turned it. The door swung open smoothly and his steps were muffled by carpet as he walked inside. Ishida let the door close behind him, effectively cutting off the din of traffic, and searched for a light switch. Finding a panel on the wall to his left, he flicked all the switches and flooded the room with a clean, white light.
If there had been anyone waiting for a response from him, Ishida wouldn’t have been able to give one. The interior was decorated in white and shades of blue, creating the impression of things being very clean and modern. The room he stood in had been set up as a small store front with a comfortable looking couch in the corner, while the doorway behind the counter lead into the actual studio area. Work tables, sewing machines, mannequins, and anything else he could ever need were already arranged in the large room; Ishida took a few minutes wandering around the tables, absently touching the new rolls of fabric and unopened packages sitting upon them.
On his second path around the room, Ishida noticed a door in the corner that he had neglected to see the first time. An attempt to turn the handle revealed that it was locked and he paused a moment to frown down at it. Glancing at the key still in his hand, he shrugged.
“Oh, why not…” Ishida murmured before attempting to insert it into the door.
The key slid in neatly and unlocked the door without a fuss. Opening it, Ishida blinked at the staircase, his eyes following the steps up into darkness. Touching the switch on the wall illuminated the upper level and he peered up at it curiously. He had no idea what could possibly be up there - from what he could tell, everything he would need to run his studio was already on the ground floor. With one glance at the room behind him, Ishida set the duffel bag down on the floor before turning back around and slowly making his way up the stairs, fingers gliding along the wall as he went.
Standing at the top of the stairs, Ishida felt his breath catch in his throat, completely in awe at the sight that greeted him. The upper floor had been renovated into an apartment setting: a large living room area beside a decent-sized kitchen and beyond that, a door which presumably led to the bedroom. Ishida removed his shoes, placing them on the small rack already sitting against the wall beside him, and stepped onto the plush carpeting. He glanced here and there, noting items he recognized as his own which had been placed thoughtfully around the rooms.
Walking around the small dining table, Ishida pushed open the bedroom door and stopped a moment in the doorway, staring inside at the strings of paper cranes hanging from the ceiling. He touched one lightly, sending it swaying back and forth as he entered the room. Inside the closet he found all his clothing neatly arranged along with the rest of his possessions packed carefully in boxes while the bathroom held his favourite brands of hygiene products; Ishida only took a fleeting glance at his reflection in the mirror, worried about what he might see on his face.
Slowly making his way back into the living room, Ishida perched on the couch arm, staring blankly out the window overlooking the busy street. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know whether everything had been planned in advance or if certain things, such as the paper cranes, had been a last minute decision as yet another farewell gesture. All he knew was that Urahara had made sure he would be taken care of and for that he was incredibly grateful.
Dwelling on what it all means is pointless, Ishida reminded himself, standing and reaching for his shoes. You have a show to arrange and now you have your own place to work rather than cluttering up Kuchiki-san‘s studio.
Stepping down the stairs, Ishida picked up his duffel bag at the bottom and went to lock the front door. He might as well start making himself comfortable in his new apartment.
~~~
“What do you think of this one?” Rukia asked, holding up one of the resumes that had been lying among many on top of Ishida’s old desk. He peered at it, skimming the cover letter and qualifications before nodding a little.
“She sounds competent - put her in the ‘maybe’ pile.” Ishida shuffled through the papers and sat back with a tired sigh. “Do we really have to do this right now, Kuchiki-san?”
She frowned at him, sliding the resume underneath the paperclip holding the other ones set aside for further consideration. “You only have a few more weeks to get your show ready, Ishida-san. Your studio needs a staff before then and you need time to judge how well they work with you.”
Rukia had set up flyers around her former school informing the students of Quincy studio’s upcoming debut and the response had been staggering - Ishida suspected that the past interview had had something to do with it. In hindsight, perhaps all the suffering that day had been worth it.
“That reminds me,” Rukia said brightly, “where do you want to have your show? It might even be too late now for a booking in April, but it’s worth a shot depending on the location you choose.”
“Well, I-”
The radio suddenly blared in the other room, the announcer’s voice stating, “The trial deciding ownership of the medical research company, MOD, is in session today. Curiously enough, Shihouin Yoruichi, a staff member at MOD, has left her position to take on the role as the lawyer for the plaintiff. More details as…”
The volume faded away and an apology was shouted out to them. Rukia glanced warily at Ishida as he adjusted his glasses and gathered the papers together into a neat pile. Clearing his throat quietly, he met her gaze. “As I was going to say, I was hoping to have my show at the same place you had yours. Do you think that’s possible?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she murmured.
The remaining weeks that lead up to the day of the show passed quickly. A capable staff had been selected and worked under the supervision of a select few of Hell Moth’s employees, Orihime being one of them. Ishida’s designs were being put through their final touches and at the end of each day, he found he was thankful having his bed just a flight of stairs away. By some stroke of luck, the building that had hosted Hell Moth’s show the past summer was available and a date was set for the end of April. Ishida paid little attention to the news, simply being too busy during the day and too exhausted in the evenings to do more than glance at the television or newspapers.
However, the day before the show, Ishida allowed himself time to relax. He forced himself to stop double-checking everything and remained upstairs, doing some general housekeeping before finally settling down with a book. Too restless to read for more than an hour, he turned on the television and idly flipped through the channels. Three letters flashed across his vision and Ishida quickly changed back to catch the news report.
“… has decided in favour of the plaintiff, Urahara Kisuke,” the news anchor stated calmly, an image of Urahara shown in the top right corner of the screen. “In an unexpected turn of events, accusations of criminal intent and several counts of murder were laid against Kurotsuchi Mayuri by the plaintiff immediately following the jury’s decision. A trial examining these charges has been scheduled for the following Monday.”
Ishida stared at the screen, fingers wrapped tightly around the cross charm that hung from his bracelet. He inhaled with a gasp, realizing that he had been holding his breath.
MOD… it’s Kisuke’s again.
Closing his eyes, he leaned back on the couch and let out a sigh. The only question now with his show less than 24 hours away was…
“Will he come?” Ishida asked himself quietly.
~~~
The evening was cool when Ishida stepped out of the building for a breath of fresh air. Rukia continued to insist in helping and was ordering the models around backstage while Orihime was busy directing the new staff to make a few last minute stitches. He sighed, watching the line of people shrink as they were slowly admitted into the building. A lot had happened to get to this point; some things he regretted, others he would never regret. Whether Urahara came that night or not, he had a new life ahead of him that could only flourish.
“Don’t they need you inside?”
Ishida turned to face the voice, blinking in surprise. “… Ryuuken? What are you doing here?”
Ryuuken glanced over at the line of people, his expression revealing nothing as he cleared his throat. “I felt I should see for myself what it is that my son does,” he said calmly. “Congratulations, Uryuu.”
“Thank you,” Ishida replied quietly, a faint smile touching his lips. “And you’re right - I should head back in. I hope you enjoy the show.”
He hurried back inside, nearly running straight into Rukia who had come looking for him.
“Ishida-san! Are you ready?” she asked with a grin.
Taking a deep breath, he nodded and straightened his suit jacket. “Let’s get started.”
The show went off without a hitch. Watching the models take their final walk down the runway, Ishida twisted his fingers in his bracelet. He’d realized that it had become a habit of his to do so when he was nervous. When the last model stepped past him, he walked out to a deafening applause and bowed politely when he stopped at the end of the runway.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said, glancing at the crowd. “It took a lot of effort to get here and I couldn’t have done it without the help of several dedicated friends. I’d like to extend my deepest gratitude to them and to all of you for giving a nameless designer a chance. Thank you again and enjoy your evening.”
Ishida let his gaze skim the applauding crowd again as he stepped back, freezing when he recognized Yoruichi smiling at him from the back. If she was here, that had to mean that…
There.
A flash of green and white caught the corner of his eye and he forced himself to stay calm, forced himself not to bolt off the runway that instant and instead slowly made his way backstage.
Picking up a small ice bucket he had hid in the caterer’s fridge, Ishida slipped past the groups of people and out a side door. Whatever anyone wanted to talk to him about could wait until after. He had almost started to feel stupid for going out and buying the bucket’s contents but now he knew that his gesture wouldn’t be wasted. He glanced around slowly at the exact place he had first met Urahara, on an evening just like this one year ago, and moved to sit down on the concrete steps.
Ishida waited patiently and inhaled sharply when he heard the sound of the door opening behind him. He turned, slowly lifting his eyes to the face of the man who still held his heart. Urahara let the door close behind him and smiled, taking a few steps closer but remaining a respectful distance away. He looked tired, which was understandable after the extensive court case that had just been settled, but otherwise in good health.
“Hello, Ishida-san.”
Three months. Almost three entire months since he’d last seen him. How he’d missed hearing that voice.
“Hello, Urahara-san.”
“So you knew I’d come,” he mused, reaching up to idly scratch at his neck. “Does that mean I’ve become predictable?”
Ishida couldn’t stop the smile that twitched his lips. “Anything but.”
Sliding his hands into his pockets, Urahara grinned, leaned back against the brick wall and gazed out at the dark line of trees beyond the parking lot. “You’ve been well?”
“Yes.” Ishida paused then nodded before repeating, “Yes.”
All because of you…
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Urahara said cheerfully. “I’d hate to think that all of it had been for nothing.”
Pushing the ice bucket to the side, Ishida gazed down at the bracelet; he stroked a finger over the charm while he pressed his lips together in thought. “Urahara-san, if you knew you were coming back… why did you make it seem like I’d never see you again?”
“Because I didn’t know.”
“What?” Ishida glanced up at him sharply.
“I’m sure you’ve had several people tell you that I always have something up my sleeve,” said Urahara, still avoiding Ishida’s gaze with his eyes shadowed by the striped hat on his head. “Though that may be true, in this case there was the possibility of it not succeeding. However, considering the circumstances, I was willing to take that risk,” he said, smiling softly, “and luckily it all worked out.”
“Did it?”
Ishida could hear him release a quiet sigh before he pushed away from the wall to take a seat on the steps beside him. Though the night wasn’t that cold, he could still feel the heat radiating off the older man.
“I didn’t tell you that I had a plan in mind because if things hadn’t gone the way they were supposed to, you would have been left expecting me to return only to be horribly disappointed. I felt it was better to have our farewells in case that really had been our last chance to speak.” Urahara sent him a sidelong glance with a grin. “Besides, if you had sat around waiting for me, you wouldn’t have been able to do the show in time.”
Ishida couldn’t smile back - there were still too many questions. Noticing Ishida’s lack of response, Urahara stared back out at the darkness.
“I know I must have hurt you and I’m sorry for that… but sacrifices had to be made in order to save you and to be quite honest, that’s all I was hoping for.”
Closing his eyes, Ishida pinched the bridge of his nose. He could argue with him - he could easily argue - but he didn’t feel it was worth it. Not for their reunion.
“Can I just know how you got out of that contract you made with Mayuri?” he asked quietly, curiosity audible beneath the words.
A smile curved Urahara’s lips again as he tilted his head in consideration. “I suppose, in a way, you helped.”
“How?”
“I had requested Yoruichi to write a very specific condition in the contract. All of the requirements stated by Mayuri would be fulfilled only if you were to fully recover, where recovery was defined as you no longer coughing up blood along with regaining your liver, respiratory and heart function. However, the wording of my condition gave me a very small loophole to take advantage of.”
Ishida frowned in confusion and Urahara’s smile grew wider in response.
“Can’t see the problem, Ishida-san? Well, luckily, neither did Mayuri. Do you remember how far the illness had progressed in you? You reached the stage of liver failure and were on the verge of respiratory failure,” Urahara recalled softly. “Now let me ask you this: how can you regain something you never lost?”
Ishida fell silent as he thought about it and slowly his eyes widened in realization. He had to clench his fists in order to keep from hitting the man. “You have got to be the most reckless person I’ve ever known.”
Urahara released a short laugh. “Yes, I know it was a huge risk, but I was willing to take it. The one thing I was desperately hoping for was that you wouldn’t lapse into heart failure before I could get the treatment to you.”
“But why didn’t you leave right away if you knew the contract was void?”
“I had to gain some evidence.” Urahara leaned forward, propping his chin up with one hand. “I’m sure you heard about the charges I laid against Mayuri. I took the few weeks I was there to first round up support for the proposed change in management, then I gathered as much information as I could about the experiments he was conducting in the basements.
“When I started to feel that Mayuri was keeping me around less for my intellectual contribution than just waiting for the moment he could ambush me with an anaesthetic, I decided it was time to reveal that I was under no obligation to stay. It was rather entertaining watching him rage away.”
Ishida stared up at the sky, at the few wisps of cloud drifting past the curve of the moon. “The court case now,” he said. “Do you really think you can win?”
At Urahara’s glance, he waved a hand through the air, groping for words.
“I mean, logically, with all the evidence that could be brought against him, the answer would be yes. But we both know Mayuri has connections and he’ll be doing everything he can to avoid being convicted.”
“You’re right,” Urahara answered, “but it‘ll be hard for him to try with all the testimonies I‘ve acquired. I tried asking a certain young lady to testify but she refused. I think you met her when you visited MOD.”
“You mean…”
“Kurotsuchi Nemu. She’s a good girl at heart - I think she just doesn’t know any better, having been around Mayuri for most of her life.”
“No,” Ishida said softly, remembering the expression he’d seen on Nemu’s face. “She knows but regardless of everything he does to her and to other people, she still loves him as her father.”
Urahara fell silent before nodding slightly to himself. “Speaking of fathers, did you see yours tonight?” he asked with a grin.
A frown creased Ishida’s forehead. “Actually, yes, I… wait, you asked him to come, didn’t you?”
“Asked, nagged, threatened, it’s all the same,” Urahara replied cheerily.
Shaking his head, a smirk curved Ishida’s mouth for a moment. “Well, thank you.”
“Not a problem. Your father’s testifying as well - he was one of the first to agree, actually.”
“One of the first? So he knew this entire time that you had a plan?”
“I asked him not to say anything - and be honest, Ishida-san, how often do you really speak with your father?” Urahara grinned. “I let Yoruichi go visit you because by that point I knew the contract was void, but I was still a little concerned of how much she might tell you, since I didn’t want you to become distracted.”
“Will I have to testify?” Ishida asked abruptly.
Urahara hesitated, turning to face him. “It won’t be necessary since your father is confirming all of your symptoms and I’d really prefer it if you didn’t, but if you insist, there’s no harm in it.”
“I want to.”
“Then I can’t stop you, can I?” Urahara said before shrugging slightly. “It’s your choice.”
Ishida frowned, his back straightening as he tensed. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, nothing.” The man paused before shrugging again. “Well, it’s just that if you consider certain past events, I’m not sure I’d trust your decision-making skills…”
“Oh, that’s not fair,” Ishida said bitterly. “I’m not the only one who’s made a stupid decision in the past, Kisuke. If you’re going to say that about me now, I could say the same thing about you choosing to even do this trial.”
“I was trying to protect you - then and now.”
“And I was too! Do you still think I went to Mayuri by myself just to spite you? I didn’t want you to have to deal with him after everything you’ve done for me and thought I could get him to leave us alone once and for all. Obviously, I made a mistake, but don’t sit there and act like I’m the only one who’s done something wrong.” Ishida grit his teeth as he glared at the man.
Urahara held up his hands in defeat and nodded, sighing slightly. “Okay, okay, I know. You’ve made your choice. It’s understandable that I couldn’t expect you to wait...”
Ishida felt his anger dissipate as he blinked in confusion. “Wait?”
“When I stopped by the hotel, they informed me that you had paid a visit a while back. I thought you might be waiting for me but it seems I was mistaken.”
Waiting for him? That means he was hoping I’d still be staying there when he got back. Ishida suddenly smiled. Whatever doubts he had about Urahara’s feelings towards him after their unexpected separation floated away and his smile turned devious. He wasn’t holding back now.
“Well, for one thing, none of my things were at the hotel so of course I couldn’t wait for you,” he said lightly. “And besides, I was waiting for you to come find me, which worked out quite well, don’t you think?”
Urahara spluttered and turned to stare at him in astonishment. “What?”
Ignoring the question, Ishida calmly turned to the ice bucket, asking, “Would you like some wine?” before pulling out a bottle and two glasses. A stunned silence was his only response, so he uncorked the bottle and poured the wine, offering a glass to Urahara.
At a loss, Urahara shook his head as they clinked the glasses together and took a sip. He frowned for a moment at the flavour before jerking his head around to stare at Ishida again. “This is...”
“Chateau Closerie du Grand Poujoux 1976 Medoc,” Ishida recited smoothly then took a sip himself. “I recall someone once telling me that they considered sex to be better than this wine. I think, from what experience I have,” he took another sip, “I’d have to disagree.”
Choking, Urahara set down his glass and attempted to clear his airway. Recovering, he eyed Ishida and slowly realized what was going on. With a quiet laugh, he said, “Come now, Uryuu, don’t you think that’s a little below the belt?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Kisuke. It’s been so long that I think I’ve forgotten,” Ishida replied with a growing smile. “Care to prove me wrong?”
Reaching out to touch a slightly flushed cheek, Urahara laughed again and shook his head. “You had me worried there for a moment. You know I missed you though, right?”
Ishida looked up to meet his eyes, fingers curling around the wine glass. Urahara gazed back, eyes soft and honest beneath the rim of the hat. Setting the glass down, Ishida licked his lips and leaned forward to kiss him hard, hands reaching up to pull off the hat and thread fingers through his hair. He savoured the feeling of Urahara’s lips on his, of arms reaching around to draw him closer, of the way the emptiness faded away.
Pulling away, Ishida smiled and pressed their foreheads together. “I know. And… thank you for the studio and the apartment, Kisuke.”
Urahara grinned and reached over to grab his wine glass. “You’re welcome. I thought it’d be useful to live close to your work and besides,” he said, taking a sip of the ruby red liquid, “there needed to be some place to move all of our belongings.”
“Our?” Ishida echoed.
“Unless you’d prefer me to stay at the hotel…?”
“No,” he breathed, “come to the apartment.” Ishida sat back and picked up his glass as well. “You put the cranes in the bedroom - I never did get to tell you what I wished for.”
“You don’t have to, I think I know. And it was rather successful!” Urahara said cheerfully. “But if there is something I want to know, it’s how you found this wine.”
Finishing the last of his wine, Ishida stood up from his seat and brushed off his pants. “Oh, that was easy. I asked Yoruichi-san a while back and just made a note of it. There turned out to be a specialty wine store just down the street, so I picked it up there.”
“You’re too clever for your own good, Uryuu,” Urahara replied, rising to his feet and handing his empty glass back to Ishida, who put everything back into the ice bucket.
“Perhaps,” he said with a smile. Taking a deep breath he paused with his hand on the door handle. “Kisuke, there’s one thing I’ve always been curious about. How many were there before me?” As Urahara opened his mouth to answer, Ishida frowned slightly and held up a hand to stop him. “And don’t tell me that you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Reaching down to pick up his hat, Urahara pressed his lips together in thought. “Several. A few. But not like this.” He shook his head once and looked away. “Never, ever anything like this, Uryuu,” he said quietly, and then looked up to meet Ishida’s eyes. “I promise.”
Ishida was silent for a moment before nodding with a soft smile. He believed him - how could he not after everything they’d been though?
Opening the door, the pair walked back into the large room filled with music and people, Urahara’s hand resting on Ishida’s hip. Things weren’t perfect - nothing ever was - but it was close. There were no guarantees for the future, nothing that could predict what life would hand them but whatever time they had together, they would cherish.
They had each other again and it was enough.
The End.
A/N: 63,438 words later and the AU is finally finished. It was a crazy journey and I'm so very proud of it. :D First and foremost, thank you to my beta, kirstian! For putting up with me and our late-night beta sessions and never complaining when I want to bounce ideas. XD
And thank you to everyone who read it! And hopefully liked it. ♥
For the surprise, Kirstian and I made up an FST for fun. XD You can check it out here.
X-posted places