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feelingfredly · 5 years

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The Fox Guards the Wolf

Chapter 20--Killing Two Birds with One Stone

Ichigo had been slogging away all afternoon. His eyes burned and his fingers were considering committing mutiny, but he had to get to the end of this scene. Coming back deal with a dead body was a bitch after you’d gotten past the high of killing them off. Or at least it was when you were writing it. He’d have to ask Kisuke if he wanted first-hand information.

He tried to imagine the look on the blond’s face as he answered. Would this be one of the answer-without-even-slowing-down questions, or one of the-just-how-much-can-I-actually-explain-without-making-this-weird questions? How long would they need to have been dating for him to start that conversation? Three months? Would they even get to three months?

Ichigo shook his head and forced away that train of thought. One day at a time, Kurosaki, he told himself. You have to survive this mess with Okura before you start freaking out over relationship stuff.

Plus, he needed to focus on the very real need of getting his manuscript finished. He’d had very little time to work on it lately, but the radio silence with Kisuke was driving him crazy and work was clearly his best escape, otherwise he’d just end up pacing the apartment trying to convince himself that waiting wasn’t a waste of time.

Kisuke was trained to deal with situations like this, or at least with people like Okura, and Ichigo knew his experiences dealing with low-level thugs didn’t qualify him for anything more than an occasional street fight; he’d long pushed past his skill parameters.

He kept telling Ichigo to wait, to stay safe, that he'd let him know when it was time to make the next move. Maybe Ichigo had gotten to be too much of a handicap. His position at the Onmi had never been anything but a joke to Kisuke, and now that they knew that the Director’s plan was to take the blond out of the equation one way or another, saddling him with a civilian ‘bodyguard’ was clearly meant to hobble him. Ichigo was supposed to be a distraction at best, and cannon fodder at worst. Kawasaki probably thought Kisuke’s bizarre knight-in-shining-bucket-hat routine would make him more vulnerable if he had to divide his attention between taking on Okura and protecting Ichigo. The fucker didn’t know what he’d done, though, because protecting the people he cared about was what Ichigo did. The fact that the Director didn’t mean for it to be real meant exactly nothing. Ichigo was going to protect Kisuke, damn it. Nothing was going to hurt him or anyone else as long as he was in the picture.

He was going to… knock, knock, knock. A quietly insistent rapping at the door broke into his mental diatribe.

He was going to answer the door, apparently.

His new apartment was technically in the same complex as the one he’d had with Renji, but it was an older building on the other side of the development, and they hadn’t gotten around to putting in much security. Kisuke had made up for that which was good because with his family still out of town there was no one who should be visiting him. Ichigo reached up and pressed the tiny receiver button hidden in the shaggy edges of his hair.

One set of life signs in the hallway. Female. Does not match any friends or family on file. Running facial recognition subroutine.

The stripped-down version of the security AI Kisuke developed couldn’t do nearly as much as the original, but it was better than a peephole or a hackable video doorbell.

Facial recognition hit. Maki Hideko.

Ichigo wrestled with the name for a moment before placing it as belonging to the woman he’d met at Okura’s office building. His shitsuji.

“Just a minute!” Ichigo closed down his computer and disconnected it from the wifi. He wasn’t exactly paranoid, but he didn’t want to run any unnecessary risks.

Once the humming stopped, he stood up from the desk, grimacing as his body groaned and popped in complaint at having been stuck in one position too long.

“If you’re from the NHK, I don’t even have a TV. And I’m unemployed right now.” He grinned to himself at the absurdity of it, but there was no reason to let the butler know she’d been made, right? He snagged his button-down from the back of the couch as he passed, slinging it around his shoulders as he opened the door.

“I told you,” he started, sticking with the pretense, and was gratified to see the look of consternation on the woman’s face. “Oh!” He dropped a careless bow. “My apologies… ah… Maki-san…? I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

She was just as beautiful as Ichigo remembered, but something about the way she was dressed implied that this might be a less formal visit than their last had been.

“Please forgive me, Kurosaki-san.” Maki bowed much deeper than Ichigo had. “I hope I am not intruding. It’s just that…” she turned her head to one side and lowered her lashes in a move that Yuzu had categorized as totally harmless look, number 3, and actually managed to blush. “Well, it’s just that Okura-dono has been worried about how things have been going for you. He was going to send someone over to check on you to make sure that you were settling in okay and that no one at the Onmi was giving you any trouble, so I volunteered.” She gave a little shrug, “You did say you were curious about shitsuji, and I thought I could kill two birds with one stone.”

Ichigo shifted his weight slightly on his feet. Well, this was unexpected. On the one hand, dealing with anyone sent by Okura was a gamble, but on the other...

“Oh, that is very kind of you to offer!” He bowed again, this time a little lower and with a smile instead of his typical scowl. “As you can see, I’m fine, and everyone at the Onmi has respected my resignation, so Okura-san needn’t worry. But I really would like to ask you some questions about your training and experiences. Could we go somewhere? Maybe talk over a cup of coffee?”

Maki gave him a slow smile—ah yes… Gotcha, look number 2. Thank you, Yuzu!—and said, “Make it tea, and you’ve got a deal.”

Tea it was, then.

***

“Yes, and then Okura-dono tripped over the tray that I left and ended up on the floor. I was so afraid that he was going to fire me. I mean, that is exactly what a good shitsuji is supposed to prevent from happening. You’re supposed to know what your master needs before he knows. Provide everything before their request can even be formed into words.”

Ichigo laughed at the image of Okura Kagetaka falling ass-over-teakettle but couldn’t help but notice that the stories being spun for him had been carefully crafted to make Okura a sympathetic character. Kisuke might play the buffoon at times, but he would never simply stumble over an inanimate object. Actually, he’d managed to navigate Ichigo’s bedroom—a room he’d never even seen—backwards, in the dark, and with Ichigo’s mouth all over him without bumping into a single piece of furniture or tripping over the books on the floor or the cords stretched from the wall to the bed where his tech was charging. It was unlikely that Okura had that much less situational awareness; Kisuke would have taught him better than that.

Good thing no one expected Maki Hideko to be a reliable narrator in this story.

“So, do most people think of you as an assistant? A servant? A member of the family? You hear so many conflicting stories, it’s hard to know what’s realistic.”

Maki sipped her tea and looked thoughtful for a moment.

“They are all realistic in their way. You see, there are as many roles for shitsuji as there are masters. Every employer has a different set of needs and it is the duty of the shitsuji to fill those needs. I joined my first master when he was very young. He had inherited a fortune and a position within his family’s company but was lacking in the administrative skills necessary to run a household. For him I was everything from an administrative assistant to a proxy hostess, making sure that gatherings went smoothly, and guests were happy. I left his employ when he married because his wife had a long-term family retainer who filled that place for her, and she was more comfortable running things without my assistance.”

Ichigo could put two and two together. The wife hadn’t wanted someone around who would make her look bad in comparison. It was hard to blame her. Maki Hideko would be hard to compete with.

“Then, I worked as an assistant to the shitsuji of a family whose head was a member of the Diet. One butler was not nearly enough to fulfill the needs of that family, but when I was offered the opportunity to move on to assist one of his associates, I jumped at the chance to run a household on my own again. That’s how I ended up with Okura-dono.”

So, Okura was an associate to a member of the Diet. That was a little heavier than Ichigo had expected, but honestly, politicians were politicians no matter how high on the food chain. Okura had money and leverage, two things that politicians needed more than blood or oxygen.

“The hardest part about switching employers is where you have to completely reprogram your responses to things. You might have a master who is a stickler about your being silent until you are spoken to. It isn’t unusual, honestly—there are lots of masters who prefer to think of their shitsuji simply as tools, efficient and always at hand, and they pay well for the privilege—but then your next station could require that you handle correspondence proactively, or handle telephone calls and invitations without running everything past your master first. It can be difficult to change gears like that.”

“I’m assuming that Okura Kagetaka isn’t one of the don’t-speak-until-spoken-to masters?” Ichigo asked.

Maki gripped her teacup tighter, and Ichigo noted that her fingernails were short and well-manicured, probably so they wouldn’t interfere with her work. Or her fighting.

“No. Okura-dono isn’t like that. He is very… progressive in his expectations. Not many women become shitsuji, and I must admit that a few have very misguided notions of how we are to behave. It has been refreshing to have a master that respects my skills and allows me to take on new responsibilities.”

Ichigo had wondered about the whole female butler thing. The Butler Café fad sweeping through the city had to affect people who wanted to be taken seriously in the role, especially women.

“He seemed like a very talented guy.” Ichigo tried to sound sincere but perplexed. “I still don’t understand why he’s so invested in this whole situation with me and the Onmi, but I’m not going to ignore kindness when I see it.”

Maki sat back in her chair a little and looked at him over her tea. “A very wise decision, Kurosaki-san. Kindness is a rarity in this world.”

Ichigo nodded. “Still it almost always comes at a price.”

They sat like that in silence for a few moments before Maki set her cup on the table and turned her full attention on him. Her eyes were dark and lovely and if Ichigo hadn’t recently developed a thing for gray eyes they might have made an impact.

“Kurosaki-san,” she said, gingerly stretching her fingers across the table’s surface towards him, never being forward enough to actually touch him, but the suggestion of it was clear. “I know that Okuro-dono is very powerful and it must feel strange to have earned his consideration, but he wants you to trust him, to rely on him as a mentor, even. He sees so much potential in you and feels very strongly that it is his responsibility to keep watch over you. He has known Urahara Kisuke for more than a decade; knows how dangerous he can be. Believe me, he will do whatever he can to keep you from Urahara’s clutches.”

Clutches? Ichigo had to smother a laugh and hide his face in his tea. Hopefully he just looked overwhelmed by the attentions of a pretty girl.

She was really good at this, he admitted. Nothing she said was untrue; Okura would do whatever he could to keep Ichigo from Kisuke. It was his motivation that was suspect.

“I don’t know what to say,” he dipped his head a little. “I started out just trying to help a stranger, and now I’m in the middle of something that I wouldn’t even put in my novel it seems so farfetched.”

Maki shifted and suddenly her chair was a little closer. “I’ve been wanting to ask—I hope it isn’t too forward of me—but how does someone who selflessly helps a stranger in a coffee shop have the connections that you do to the Yakuza?”

Ichigo thought about how he should explain.

“I don’t, really,” he said, and could see the disbelief settle on her face. “I mean, they’re from the neighborhood, and I’ve known a lot of them since primary school. The guy with me the other day? His little brother and I were in the same class.”

“My dad was a cop, so I knew better than to run with them, and my mom… well, she died because of a turf war when I was a kid. Total case of wrong place/wrong time plus a healthy dose of it can’t happen to me. But, between those things I ended up being the guy the local gang wanted to recruit but couldn’t. They tried to beat it out of me a couple of times, but I just learned how to fight back, and after a while… well, it was almost like I’d earned enough respect that they let me be.”

“But Masuda…” Maki stopped the name short, clearly trying not to call attention to the fact that she knew his name when there was no reason for her to, “the man you were with the other day. He called you boss.”

Ichigo let her play it off. “Yeah, Masuda calls everyone boss, except his boss. He calls Mamushi kumichō-dono.”

That seemed to satisfy her on some level.

“I thought it was strange,” she started, and then started again. “Okura-dono doesn’t approve of Yakuza, so it seemed a little odd…”

Ichigo smiled. “Why would a nice guy like him help out a bad guy like me? Yeah… not with the Yakuza. I mean, I’ve had more than my fair share of dealings with them—you can’t ignore them—but your boss isn’t sullying his hands by helping me.”

Two pink spots appeared on Maki’s cheeks and Ichigo thought she might actually be embarrassed. “I didn’t mean anything like that, Kurosaki-san. I apologize most humbly if it came across that way.”

Ichigo nodded. “I understand. Believe me. I know what I look like. You should see how they react to me when I’m working in the wards at the hospital. *gasp* That’s my doctor? No!”

He held his hands up to his chest in a dramatic motion of denial, and a tiny smile quirked Maki’s lip.

“Surely not, Kurosaki-san. I am convinced that you have the patients eating out of your hands.”

Ichigo sipped his tea and gave a mournful look. “Oh, if only, Maki-san. It would have made my decision to be a writer instead of a doctor much harder if that had been the case.”

“A writer,” she looked suitably doubtful, like every other person he’d ever told that to, “and how does that work?”

At this point he had no idea why they were still talking, but why not.

“Well, when I was working at the Onmi it was easy. I basically camped out in the corner of the room and wrote all day while other people did their stuff. Before that I had to carve out whatever time I could between class and the hospital and family time. I spent a lot of time in coffee shops, which is what got me into this mess in the first place.”

He thought back to that day and shook his head. “Feels like forever ago. Weird that it’s only been what? A month and a half?”

“Seven weeks.” The words were out of her mouth so quickly she couldn’t stop them. “Ah, that’s what Okura-dono…” she looked like she was trying not to swallow her tongue.

Ichigo nodded, “Yeah. That’s about right. Time flies.”

And if that didn’t make it clear that he’d been on Okura’s radar the whole time, he was a natural brunet.

Maki sat up even straighter and smiled, all seriousness banished and her almost-flirtatious edge back. “Hopefully, because you’re having fun.”

Well, Ichigo thought as he watched her change gears, a little flirtation never hurt anyone, and returned the smile.

“Good company makes everything more fun.”

***

Good company, indeed, Kagetaka thought, as he adjusted the sound on the receiver a little.

He quickly skimmed through the notes he’d taken, pleased with the groundwork Maki’d laid. He’d told her to take it slow because Kurosaki wasn’t as easily led as his father, but he was clearly not immune to the pretty girl’s charms. She already had him talking about Kisuke’s work at the Onmi.

“Yeah,” the redhead was talking again, “he was always working on it, and talking to it. He called it Yoruichi. I guess he named it after a friend. Maybe an old partner? I don’t know.”

Maki made a disapproving noise and Kagetaka could just imagine the delicate purse of her lips. “I don’t recognize the name, but it sounds like the program that was that was stolen from Okura-dono. The man has even less honor than I’ve been told.”

Yoruichi. Kagetaka’s lips twisted in a smile. That had to be the activation code that he needed. It was so obvious… he should have guessed. Kisuke had an enormous soft spot for the woman—but now he knew, and it didn’t matter. With the code he’d be able to activate the main routine as soon as he’d pried it out of Kisuke’s servers. Even better, his last message from Kawasaki said that the Shihoin woman’s partner was being set on a path to intercept any trouble with Mamushi. It was going to be a lovely irony to use her partner against her. He could sow a tale of domestic troubles that would muddy the waters even more when he finally made his move.

The microphone picked up a faint noise, maybe Kurosaki doing something with his cup, and Okura waited until he started talking again.

“This whole situation is so strange.” He sounded almost defeated. Good. “After I met your boss, I went straight to Urahara and asked if what I’d been told was true. I expected denials and explanations, but he didn’t deny it at all. He admitted straight out that he destroyed a project Okura had been working on. Said that it was too dangerous for a private business, and that Okura should know better. But if he didn’t destroy it. If he kept it….” Kurosaki’s voice drifted away and Kagetaka wished he had more than just audio on the scene. It would be nice to be able to gauge the redhead’s reactions better.

“Too dangerous? That’s ridiculous. Okura-dono’s projects are all for the good of the people. He wants to keep them safe.” Maki sounded so righteous when she was defending him. He’d clearly chosen the right person for this job. “The only people who want to stop him are the ones who lurk in the shadows and are afraid of his light. The Yakuza is afraid of him because he will expose their secrets, and Urahara hates him because he couldn’t control him or make him into a carbon-copy killer. You are lucky to have gotten away when you did, Kurosaki-san. The man is a menace.”

Kurosaki sighed and shifted noisily again. “And here I thought I’d gotten better at judging people. Maybe that’s why I like writing better than reality. With stories I can just make things work the way I want them to.”

Kagetaka smirked. He didn’t need to resort to fiction to have things the way he wanted them. All he needed was time for the plans he’d put in motion would come to fruition, and Urahara Kisuke would be no more.

He picked up the phone.

“Chiaki-san,” he spoke crisply, “let Director Kawasaki know that I’ve gotten the information that he requested. He can visit me in my office whenever he’s available, the sooner the better.”

He glanced at the clock and texted Maki-san. Appointment scheduled. Please adjust the calendar accordingly.

The mic crackled a little and Kagetaka heard the message notification on Maki’s phone ping.

“Oh, Kurosaki-kun,” she said, “this has been most enjoyable, but it seems my free time has come to an end.”

He could hear the shuffling as the two of them rose to their feet.

“No rest for the wicked, hmm?” Kurosaki teased and murmured something to their server. “Thank you, then, for spending your valuable free time satisfying my curiosity.”

There was a minor scuffle as Kurosaki insisted on paying the bill, but Maki gave in with good grace.

Good girl, he thought. Keep him on the hook a little longer. It would be wise to keep tabs on the young man, even if he was just a pawn in the game.

“It was my pleasure, Kurosaki-san,” she said. Her bow was almost silent, only the sound of her hands whispering along the material of her slacks giving it away. “Perhaps you will be able to use some of the information I provided in your stories.”

That was greeted with a short laugh and Kagetaka could hear the warmth in Kurosaki’s tone as he responded. “If there wasn’t a place for it already, I would make one. It will be very useful. Thank you.”

Kagetaka turned off the receiver and nodded. Very useful indeed.

#Bleach #UraIchi

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the-dreamer-traveller · 3 years

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Recording: N9TT_9G0A

Wandering in the ruined, mountainous trail-like slopes of a city whose name is lost in the sands of time, I am busy searching something, or perhaps I am trying to explore, as I cannot tell as I have accidentally doze off while listening to my online classes.

The air is hot and dusty, while the dust on my feet can kick up small clouds that might irritate my nose. As breathtaking and eerie as wandering in a ruined city was, I am also concerned with my health because the dust and sand on the ground could be carcinogenic or just plain irritant to my nose and eyes. This part of the Nightmare Realm is quite peaceful, with a clear sky and a shining sun or star high in the sky. Still, I am just contented with wandering or looking for something here.

How I landed here is unknown, but perhaps it is to search for something here. I found myself somewhere in this ruin where there are several trees growing on it, creating some green in this otherwise dry brown landscape. It is also best noted that this particular part is also what used to be a junkyard, so I can see some of its former structures and items, such as heaps of metallic scrap and trash that is sometimes covered in vines, compressed and rusty cars and drums that are filled with nothing.

I also saw a little girl in one of the stairs, looking at me with curious and wondering eyes. Her brunette hair is tied in pigtails, which are resting on her shoulder. She wears a simple yellow dress, a hot pink hooded cloak over her body and brown boots. She looks clearly lost, as if she is trying to find something, just like me.

I can’t help but decide to just go and talk to the girl, you know, just to extend a helping hand to a friend.

“Hey there, little girl.” I said it while getting her attention. Gods, why does this sentence sound like a MAP? I only wanted to help a lost child in this incredibly dangerous zone, that’s all! “Are you alright?”

“Hello, mister.” The little girl said, greeting me back. “I’m looking for someone, but I can’t remember.”

The girl shyly puts her hands behind her back while she twists her booted foot on the ground. She’s clearly young to be out in the wilds, perhaps a bit too young for that. “Can you help me find them? I’m REALLY worried about them.”

Saying no to a kid in a middle of the wilderness like this is a bad idea, so I relent. “Sure, but stay close near me so that you won’t-“

Just as I am close to finish my sentence, the little girl giggles and started running off deeper in the scrapyard in a sudden, an act that instantly drops the temperature of parents around the world.

Because of this random and daring act the little girl is doing, I quickly cut in to the literal chase and follow her. The scrapyard seems to have more additional details as I am running deeper into it, such as taller grass growing on it, moss in some of the grassless ground, and what appears to be a cracked, bricked sidewalk with a small booth-like building nearby, overgrown with vines. It seems that, wherever I was, I am no longer in the scrapyard.

The little girl is a fast runner too, as she is able to dart and pass through various obstacles, something that I note that is highly improbably for a little girl to do. We continue with this chase for a while, until the little girl stops on a pair of short stairs.

This is… eerie. The little girl suddenly stops running seems to be that something is seriously off here right now.

“I… remember…”

The little girl speaks slowly, by each word, as if she seems to be lost in a trance or something. I stood short a few feet away from her.

“I remember…”

The little girl repeats of what she says, but this time as if she seems to be aware of it and lifts her head high in the sky. Concerned with the little girl, I slowly walk near to her and try to pry her to respond.

“I remember. I remember! I REMEMBER!”

The little girl repeats of what she says, but this time with increased volume and speed. Then she starts laughing manically and I was surprised by this happening.

“I AM A MONSTER! I REMEMBER! I REMEMBER! HAHAHAHAHA-”

The little girl continues to laugh manically, each time as her laugh is clearly becoming more deranged. Then the sclera of her eyes turned red and starts crying tears of blood. Then she heels over and a massive red skeleton emerges from her back, before it forms large, black membranous flesh that flies off before the “little girl” is converted to reveal the creature’s face; a white human-like skull with an underbite, several sharp teeth and the eyeballs of the “little girl” in its eye sockets. The large, cape-like membranous flesh flying behind its skeletal back are its… umm, wings, while the lower torso of the creature is a large, twisted, gnarly and thorny black mass resembling a large, slightly curved thorn. It also has a pair of large, red claws with very sharp nails, along with guts sticking down from its visible ribs, which has very pale flesh clinging to it.

The “little girl” that I encountered isn’t actually a little girl at all but is actually a freaky monster that successfully baits its prey.

I gasp in surprise and fear but waste no time to scream and instead turn my tail and started to flee.

Alas, the creature is already within my reach and grabs my body with its claws. Lifting me high off the ground and with its face in full display for my view, I helplessly thrash in my place as I am helplessly watching it dominate over me.

o----------------------------------------------------------------------o

I open my eyes, and I found myself in a bed in a room.

How long have I been out lately?

I slowly rise up and look around my surroundings. It seems that this is one of the rooms that is intact in the ruined city. Boarded windows with some of the sunlight peeking through the gaps of the board, some cabinets with some parts missing, a ragged carpet and a bed with a missing bed covering and a small blanket seems to be what could be left of this place. The place is still warm, but at least we are still within the shade of a building that is at least usable.

There were also other people in the house as well. Most of them are human dressed in ragged cloaks and clothes as if they are wayward travelers who make their living walking around the Nightmare Realm, either by looking for a living or looking for something to eat. There were also two children in this group, playing wooden toys and dolls on the floor, something that I believe could originate from one of the cabinets of the house. A few adults were also here, resting in the bed, wall or floor, as if they have been arriving from a long journey.

There is one person here that catches my attention, in a way that I did not expect for it to happen. I look at him with dark brown eyes, and he turns back to me with his blue eyes.

Sitting in the bed is Sharkie… but he is now known as Kagetaka Kawazame.

Though he would look the same kindhearted and friendly shark man that I once remembered, he seems to be very different now. Perhaps it is because he was placed near to a group of realistically designed and rendered humans, that would be why he looks different. Heck, he even looks very mature in spite of his youth-like energies that radiate from him.

The sharkman is still muscular, and he still has a shark head. I would reckon that he still has his braces on his teeth. However, because of the better way the dream depicts him, I am attracted to him even more. His body is more humanoid, with a visible neck on his head. His clothes are also a bit tight, similar to a skinsuit that he wears. The skinsuit is black, while he has a cloak draped on his body as well as strap sandals on his feet.

I give a soft smile when I saw Kagetaka as he notices me. “Hey, there.” I greeted to him and appears to be taken back. Was he genuinely surprised? Happy? Whatever is his response, he returns with a smile. “Its been years since we last met with each other.”

Then I quickly went back to sleep.

o----------------------------------------------------------------------o

I wake up once again.

The same place and the same bed.

But when I raise my head high, Kagetaka is nowhere in sight.

One of the women is seen next to me, sitting on the bed while she is knitting some fabric. She seems to be busy making the fabric, probably something to sell with.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but where is Sharkie?” I asked to the woman, who seems to be confused for a bit before answering.

“Him? Oh, he returned back.”

“Returned back?”

I mutter on what she said, confused on what she says.

Until I realized that she says “returned”. It made me realized that, for some reason, he already left and returned back to his home.

I was saddened by his disappearance and thought that I might be able to spend time with him. Must it be magic or something that I unconsciously did so?

Then, I let out a soft laugh, a laugh that makes it sound like I am broken. It is a laugh that is a mix of a laugh that reminds me of people who are mentally broken and a deranged giggle. My broken laughter only gets worse as I am left to be disappointed, saddened and broken. There is not much for me to do her, but to quietly leave the adobe, as I am just going a bit crazy of what had happened.

o----------------------------------------------------------------------o

Jumping over and grabbing on a nearby small fence, I fling myself over a window and landed on my feet. The shaded parts of the building ruins provide enough protection from the harsh sunlight and gives me some time to rest.

The part of the Dead City zone is close to a large sinkhole, where many of the buildings’ ruined infrastructures were kept there, along with some broken pipes and sewer tunnels. Some of the water are flowing from a large pipe and forms a small pond somewhere deep in the sinkhole. I stay above in one of the upper parts of the sinkhole, as there is somewhere that I have to go else. Something compels me to do some adventuring for now, especially since something calls me to follow it, with said something being more of an instinct.

Going through one of the pathways where tall buildings are toppled and touch each other, I walk through with the shoes on my feet, looking at the designs of the buildings that once stood tall in front of me. It entertains to me the idea that a phenomenon like this could create some wonder like this, though I am also kind of worried of what kind of creature could be living in a biome like this.

Suddenly, I can hear a shriek behind my back and realized that it is the same creature that attacked me earlier! The thing doesn’t seem to be bothered by the sunlight, since I thought that ghostly creatures are supposed to be weakened by them. Then again, any horror can happen even at the brightest days of our life. Knowing of what it is capable of, I quickly take off and run away.

#dream #dream journal #adventure

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thekoreanist · 4 years

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#pirates

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scoobydoojedi · 6 years

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Asakura clan

The Asakura claimed descent from the Kusakabe clan, descendants of the Emperor Temmu. They settled in Tajima province during the Heian Period and took the name Asakura. Later, the family moved to Echizen province and served theShiba clan Shugo, which Asakura Toshikage usurped on the dawn of the Sengoku Period. The Asakura were powerful in the Hokuriku region until their downfall at the hands of Oda Nobunaga in 1573, after which surviving members became vassals of first the Oda, then Toyotomi. The Asakura are well-known in part for their Toshikage Jushichikajo (c.1480) - the house code of Asakura Toshikage.

*Prominent People*

*Asakura Toshikage* (1428-1481) Toshikage initially supported the Yamana in the Ônin War but switched his loyalties to the Hosokawain 1471, a move that was coupled with a break from his nominal lords, the Shiba shugo family. The following year he defeated the Kai family of Echizen and became the de facto ruler of that province. He aided Togashi Masachika in his efforts to restore Togashi authority in the politically confused Kaga province (1473). His hold on Echizen was cemented with his defeat of the Shiba at Kôfukuji in 1479. He died in1481 Toshikage composed the Toshikage Jushichikajo, one of the earlier and most straight-forward Sengoku Period house codes. He established the Asakura capital at Ichijô no dani, which in some ways foreshadowed the castle towns of the Edo Period.

*Asakura Sadakage* (1473-1512) Sadakage was the son of Asakura Ujikage, who passed away in 1486. He had first to contend with a short-lived rebellion that ensued as a result of his ascension (and assisted by his uncle Asakura Norikage, then worked to expand the Asakura domain, clashing with the Togashi of Kaga (1494, 1504), the ikko-ikki of Echizen, and the Rokkaku of Ômi.

*Asakura Norikage*(1477-1555) became a pillar of the Asakura house. On the event (1503) of his nephew Sadakage's rise to the position of daimyô, a faction of Asakura retainers formed a plot against him. Norikage was approached by Asakura Kagefusa to join the planned rebellion and the former evidently gave his consent. However, Norikage revealed the plot to Sadakage at the last minute and the rebel headquarters at Tsuruga castle was attacked. Kagefusa had enlisted the aid of the Hosokawa, but that family's forces were checked near Lake Biwa en route to Echizen. Kagefusa afterwards fled Echizen and died of illness. Later, he defeated an Ikkô army at Kuzuryugawa in 1506, one of a number of battles he would fight against the Ikkô. He commanded an expedition into Tango province in 1517 and in 1526 led an army out in support of the Asai against the Rokkaku, cementing the alliance between the Asai and Asakura. He marched against the Ikkô of Kaga in 1531 and fought them again in 1555. Following the storming of Daishojiomote on that campaign, he fell ill and returned to Ichijonodani, leaving the army in the hands of Asakura Kagetaka. He died on 9/23/1555. He was almost certainly the most talented general the Asakura clan produced and his writings on various military matters have provided a valuable historical record. Numerous sayings attributed to Norikage survive, including "The warrior may be called a beast or a dog; the main thing is winning." He had adopted the name Soteki after entering the priesthood. He hewed to his religious beliefs and produced no children of his own. Thus, he adopted his nephew, Kagetoshi.

*Asakura Takakage*(1493-1546) A successful daimyô, expanding Asakura influence while enhancing Echizen's growing cultural status. He is said to have formally enacted the famous '17-Article Code' of Toshikage. He sent troops to aid the struggling Toki of Mino province in1518 and aided the Asai of Ômi in their bid to throw off the authority of the Kyogoku and supported them against the Rokkaku.

*Asakura Yoshikage*(1533-1573) defeated the ikko-ikki of Kaga on two occasions (1555, 1564) and lent nominal support to the Saitô during their war with Oda Nobunaga (1561-67). He sheltered Ashikaga Yoshiaki after the latter had fled the Kyoto area in 1565. Yoshikage was unable to give Yoshiaki the assistance he needed to claim the title of shôgun and Yoshiaki at length departed. Yoshikage moved into neighboring Wakasa and absorbed that province during the later 1560's at the expense of the Wakasa - Takeda. The fortunes of his house began to change when he refused a 'request' by Nobunaga to come to Kyoto in 1570, and as a result found himself at war with the Oda. Yoshikage is said to have resented Nobunaga's presumption, as both of their families had once served the Shiba family. The Asakura domain was quickly invaded but Nobunaga was forced to retreat when Yoshikage was joined by his ally Asai Nagamasa. Yoshikage sent his army to assist the Asai on a number of occasions, including the Battle of Anegawa (which he was not present at) and the stand-off at Mt. Hiei in 1570. He was content to let his relatives Asakura Kageakira and Kagetaka command his army after the death of Asakura Norikage in 1555, as he had a weak constitution and was not well-suited for campaigning. In 1573 Nobunaga again threatened the Asai's Odani castle. Yoshikage duly dispatched his army but before even reaching Odani it lost heart and broke. Nobunaga chased it into Echizen and Yoshikage fled from Ichijo no dani. His whereabouts were betrayed by Asakura Kageakira and he took his life on 8/20/1573 at the Rokubô Kenshôji. His weak character had by then disenchanted a number of his senior men and this greatly contributed to his downfall.

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feelingfredly · 5 years

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The Fox Guards the Wolf

The Dance of the Honey Bee

Chapter Nineteen

The sun beat down brutally but it barely touched Suì-Fēng’s consciousness.

“Oji-san, it is so nice to see you again.” Yoruichi’s voice carried clearly through the parabolic microphone aimed in her direction, but it was the old man’s voice that Suì-Fēng needed to hear. She’d been trying to get a direct view of Mamushi all morning with no luck. Hopefully, Yoruichi’s visit would bring the snake out of his hole.

According to the Director, the Yakuza gangs were in turmoil and Urahara was to blame. He’d been pitting them against each other for months fomenting dissension in the ranks so that he could use the chaos as cover when he attacked Okura Kagetaka. The Onmi felt that Mamushi’s gang was the best of a bad bunch, and Kawasaki wanted to make sure they weren’t too damaged in the crossfire. That would destroy more useful connections between the government and the Yakuza than anyone could afford to lose. That meant a protection detail, and that was where Suì-Fēng came in. Since the Onmi couldn’t allow there to be any question of loyalty issues, Yoruichi wouldn’t be involved, however the Director believed Suì-Fēng would be acceptable. She had always been unquestioningly loyal, even when that loyalty endangered her, and she had earned the chance to protect her partner and her partner’s family—even if they were Yakuza and could take care of themselves—when the shit Urahara was stirring inevitably hit the fan.

It would have made her feel proud if she weren’t so sure that somehow she was being led around by the nose.

“I can’t believe I’m saying it, Oji-san, but I miss the noise of the pachinko machines.” Yoruichi sounded strangely sentimental wandering around the empty parlor. “I could hardly hear myself think before.”

Mamushi finally came out from where he’d been tucked away all morning. “That would imply that you stopped and thought, Yoruichi-chan.” The voice was higher than Suì-Fēng remembered, but age often did that, and it had been years since she’d interacted with the man. The first, and last, time Yoruichi had brought her new partner to meet the family hadn’t gone terribly well.

It hadn't been her fault. Mostly.

“With the pachinko parlor closed I can not only hear myself think, but I could probably hear what everyone else is thinking, too.” A tinkling laugh echoed in the earpiece and Suì-Fēng could picture Yoruichi laughing.

One of Mamushi’s men pulled chairs out for them to sit and another brought a tray from the back. “Don’t try to listen to these men,” the old man let out a breath of a laugh as he settled himself, “you might find yourself embarrassed by what you hear, and then I would have to avenge your honor and we would never be able to enjoy this excellent tea.”

Yoruichi hmmm’d in agreement and for a few minutes the only sounds were the domestic noises of pouring and drinking. “I would hate to trouble you like that, Oji-san, although, I doubt that I would be the one embarrassed.”

A harsh bark of laughter. “You may be right, Yoruichi-chan, but you shouldn’t admit it. Leverage is lost that way.”

Suì-Fēng would have told the old man that Yoruichi knew that better than he did, but she just frowned. What was her partner playing at?

“I don’t know, Oji-san,” she sounded thoughtful, “it might be worth a little embarrassment to be able to hear what everyone else was thinking.”

“A foolish gamble. You know what you’re thinking, would you like that shared far and wide on the chance that what you’d hear from one of my helpers? Or the noodle-shop owner next door? Or even the owner of the laundry two streets over? No. It is better for you to keep your secrets and let them keep their own. Your friend Urahara understands that, even if your partner doesn’t.”

Suì-Fēng stiffened and adjusted her grip on the microphone. Surely…

“Oh, my Little Bee understands the value of secrets,” Yoruichi moved closer to the window. “Her problem isn’t in the keeping of them, but in the gathering of them.”

Suì-Fēng looked around surreptitiously and felt a bead of sweat trickle down her spine. If she’d been spotted by the Yakuza, then this whole mission was wasted.

“She should take lessons from the other one. He spies with the crows and the rats and the worms in the earth. That one can smell the poison in a wound before the knife penetrates the skin.” The old man’s voice was heavy with disdain. “He hasn’t the honor of thieves.”

Yoruichi tch’d and there was sudden a faint tapping sound in the background. Morse code?

C… o… v… e… r… y… o… u…r… e…a…r...s...

It took her a second too long to catch on and she barely managed to rip the earphones off in time to hear a high-pitched squeal scream from the speakers at a volume that would have deafened her if she’d still been wearing them. Damn it, Yoruichi. What do you think you’re doing?

Fuck it all. She’d known Suì-Fēng was listening the whole time, and if the conversation was any indicator, the old man had known, too. No wonder she hadn’t been able to hear him earlier. Poisonous snake in his hole.

Take lessons from what other one? Urahara? No, the old man liked Urahara. He’d never accuse him of having no honor, no matter how wrong he was about that. Getaboshi had thrown his honor away the first time he’d turned on the Onmi. Maybe he was he talking about Okura?

It was time to get home and transcribe her notes. She had more questions than answers and only one place to start.

Fucking Urahara and his one-man war.

***

Mamushi was chuckling under his breath and Yoruichi couldn’t help but smile. The man was as close to a grandfather as she’d ever had, and while their family wasn’t exactly traditional, there were some bonds that were deeper than blood.

“Did your Little Bee get stung, Yoruichi-chan?” A wrinkled hand waved, and two new cups of tea appeared as if by magic. Sometimes it was good to be the Kumichō's favorite.

“If I know her it was a close call, but she’s quick on the uptake and even quicker to move, so the harm will not be permanent, and I will probably be forgiven with a few sweet words and a trip to the hot springs she favors.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, the verbal fencing from earlier no longer necessary.

“It is good to have you back, Yoruichi-chan,” her Oji sighed. He was old and tired, and she wished there was something she could do to help, but she’d left that path long ago. “You bring a sweet breeze to these walls.”

“It is good to see you as well, Oji-san.” She bowed her head to him, and he smiled. He knew very few ever got that kind of acknowledgement from her, and he was proud enough to revel in it. “I am afraid, though, that my presence is a harbinger of rough weather to come.”

She knew her words weren’t a surprise, but Mamushi’s response surprised her.

“Change is never easy, Yoruichi-chan,” he shook his head, “I only hope that I am strong enough to see the other side of the storm. The other one, the one that even the Onmi found too devious, is trying to erase the yakuza, but while our face may change, the family is strong.”

Yoruichi looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “You expect a frontal assault on the yakuza?”

Mamushi shook his head no. “Between Okura and his supporters still hiding within the Onmi it will be a political storm large enough to wash away the families, but it will creep upon us like strangling vines, harmless until their roots have taken deep root and killed everything they touch. We will change or die.”

The old man made a gesture and the men guarding the exits disappeared leaving the two of them alone.

“I truly believe what I said about secrets. It is better for us to keep our own than to have everyone’s known. With that in mind,” he tilted his head to one side, his bird bright eyes fixed on her, “sometimes secrets are too dangerous to keep.”

He slid a battered penguin USB drive across the table to her and she pocketed it.

“Your friend has proven his loyalty to you once again, Yoruichi-chan,” the dark eyes sparkled a little and once again Yoruichi was happy she’d introduced Kisuke to him so long ago, “please return this to him with my thanks and tell him I hope that it will be useful to him. It is a shame that he wasn’t interested in the family business. He would have made a fine addition to it.”

It was an old fight that had matured into good-natured teasing over the years, the idea of her marrying Kisuke now too absurd for Mamushi to even playfully suggest, even without considering the difficulty of convincing the blond to work for the Yakuza directly.

“He is more useful on the outside and you know it, Oji-san.” Yoruichi rapped her knuckles on the table loudly and the guards silently reappeared with fresh tea and a tray of tiny matcha-flavored cakes. “You’d have had him murdered in his sleep the first time he questioned your intelligence or defied an order in front of your kobun. Kisuke hasn’t earned the Director’s hatred by being a good foot-soldier you know.”

Mamushi shrugged one shoulder with an almost careless, yes probably, air. “Your Director doesn’t know how to manage him.”

Yoruichi couldn’t stop the laughter that burst tinkling from her. “And you do, Oji-san?”

The old man smiled behind the edge of his cup. “No, Yoruichi-chan.” He sipped delicately. “But you do.”

She raised her cup in a salute of graceful defeat. He wasn’t wrong.

Now, if she could just figure out if this Kurosaki Ichigo had learned how to as well.

***

Kisuke watched the action unfold from his rooftop perch with a half-frown. Yoruichi had attended her uncle as he’d known she would, and just as predictably, Suì-Fēng had followed, waving her little spy gadgets as if they made her invisible. Director Kawasaki would be furious with her, caught by no fewer than three yakuza watchmen, Yoruichi, and Kisuke himself.

She was good, but she wasn’t as good as she thought, and if she was the best the Director was going to send after him, the man had gotten criminally complacent. Perhaps he didn’t really see the threat. He’d never seen Kisuke cornered before. Never seen him pushed by the threat of losing people he cared about.

Yoruichi was right—there was a storm coming. It was named Getaboshi.

#UraIchi #Urahara Kisuke #Kurosaki Ichigo #the girls are back in town #the storm clouds gather

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feelingfredly · 5 years

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The Fox Guards the Wolf

Part Sixteen

Counting Chickens Before They’ve Hatched

“What do you mean he’s gone?”

Kisuke turned slightly in his seat and cocked his head as he looked at Tessai. “Did the words somehow change meanings when I wasn’t paying attention?”

Tessai raised a hand before the Director could explode. “What Urahara-san is trying to say,” he said calmly, “is that after his meeting with Okura Kagetaka, Kurosaki Ichigo packed his belongings and vacated his Onmitsukido supplied apartment without leaving any contact information. He has not, as far as we’ve been able to discern, moved back into the apartment he had before the incident at the coffee house, or back into his family’s home.”

The Director frowned at Kisuke’s carelessly swinging geta, each slap of it against the bottom of his foot cranking the man’s temper another notch higher. Kisuke kept the rhythm constant, a small aggression in lieu of the larger ones he would prefer.

“I thought you said he was in danger from Okura?” The Director pinched the butt of the cigarette in his mouth and pulled a long drag from it, blowing it towards the men across the desk from him.

Kisuke stilled. “He is still in danger from Okura, and it isn’t as if I could stop him.”

Kawasaki Ryō had been Director for as long as Kisuke had been in the Onmi. His methods had never changed, no matter what the world around him did, and he sneered at Kisuke’s denial.

“Sure. And I’m Ultraman.” His lips twisted in a smirk as he sucked on his cigarette. “You brought him here to get Okura’s attention, and now that you have it you’ve sent the kid out as bait. I didn’t think you had it in you anymore, Getaboshi. It’s almost like the old days.”

Tessai shifted in his seat but didn’t say anything.

“Actually,” Kisuke said, snapping his fan open and waving it in counterpoint to his swinging sandal, “I didn’t.” He raised an eyebrow at the man who’d become his second biggest concern. “Kurosaki signed a contract with Taka-chan that promised him more money than he’d seen in ten years as a med student or an entry level doctor and then he just… left. Stopping him, while probably in his best interests, would have been beyond my purview. He’d done nothing wrong, and his presence was strictly voluntary.”

The Director leaned forward and slapped his palms on his desk. “You’re telling me that you don’t have a line on him? He really is just gone?”

Kisuke nodded, fanning himself as he watched the red creeping up his boss’s neck.

“What is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?” He was getting into full rant mode. “That kid has been running loose in the building for almost two months now. He’s had access to your labs. To the other agents. And you just let him go.”

Tessai made a small sound of disagreement. “It was his right to leave. He was…”

Kawasaki exploded. “I don’t give a damn what his rights are! You find that bastard and you bring him back. I don’t care if you have to dust off your shibari skills to tie him up and drag his ass back, you get him back!”

Kisuke snapped his fan shut. “I’m not going to just kidnap an innocent off the street on a whim.”

“You will do exactly that if I tell you too, Urahara-san.” The Director’s eyes were dark and angry. “The situation with Okura is your fault, and any of this… all of this… is because you chased him away. He had the potential to be the best agent in the Onmitsukido, and your…”

“Morals? Unwillingness to target civilians? Regard for the law?” Kisuke didn’t even look at him as he spoke, but he could hear the offended intake of breath across the desk. Pfft. Kawasaki’s ego was as sensitive as Taka-chan’s. Two insecure men with more power than sense. It was no wonder they got along so well.

Kawasaki growled under his breath, his anger an almost palpable thing. Kisuke made a production of looking at a dry cuticle.

“Your regard for the law.” The words dragged over broken glass. “What a joke. You know as well as I do that in the end you will do exactly what I tell you, or I will personally give Okura Kagetaka access to you, your research, and your precious little civilian.” He spat the last of the threat out like poison. “I think I could almost convince him to come back to us if I gave him that kind of welcoming present.”

Kisuke shifted in his chair and yawned delicately. “How lovely. It finally becomes clear. It isn’t just me you’re willing to sacrifice to get what you want.”

Tessai stood up. “Director,” his voice was aloe on a burn, soothing and bland, “I quite understand your frustration with having lost contact with Kurosaki. Would it be appropriate for me to assign a team for surveillance of his known locations?”

Kawasaki unclenched his jaw, forcing his eyes away from Kisuke. “Surveillance to start. Once his location is known, I want him brought in.” He bared his teeth in a shark’s smile. “For his own safety of course.”

Tessai bowed briefly to both men. “I will get right on that, then.”

As the big man left, the Director waved a hand for him to close the door behind him, leaving him an arm’s length from Kisuke.

It would be so easy to just break his neck, Kisuke thought. It wasn’t the first time, and Kisuke was certain it wouldn’t be the last. Other things needed his attention first, though.

“You wanted to say something else… Director?” He paused before the title, making his distaste clear. This man didn’t deserve his position, and Kisuke made no attempt to soften the cutting edge of his disapproval.

Yoruichi’s voice hummed in his ear. Only two life-signs in the room, Kisuke. Starting independent recording now.

Good. Now he could get things moving without having to worry about Tessai. No one else would be leverage in this fight.

“I did.” Kawasaki shook another cigarette out of his battered pack, trigger-calloused fingers making quick work of the action. “This thing with Okura has gotten out of hand.”

Kisuke pretended to misunderstand. “I agree. He has never publicly involved himself before, especially with a civilian. Clearly he is deteriorating.”

The Director blew a cloud of blue smoke. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I mean the snake. Involving Mamushi. You are the one who is deteriorating. You crossed a line, Urahara-san.”

Not exactly the tack he was expecting, but it supported his theory that there was a direct line of communication between Kawasaki and Okura. No one in Taka-chan’s circle would have been made privy to what happened. He couldn’t afford for his weakness to become public knowledge. Attacked in the security of his own center of operations? He would never give that information out.

Except to the Director, apparently.

“Hmmm. Pillow talk, Kawasaki-kun?” He gave a prurient little grin and crossed his legs, swinging his sandal again. “You must have hidden talents. I never pegged Taka-chan for sharing his little secrets, even during his afterglow, but then I never expected him to be attracted such an older man, either.”

Kawasaki surged to his feet, his desk squalling in objection as it gouged tracks in the tiled floor. “Shut your fucking mouth and listen for once, Ki-chan.” His face was purple, and he flung the lit cigarette at Kisuke, just missing his open neckline where it would have burned bare skin. “This is your last warning. Stay away from Okura. If you don’t—if I hear one fucking whisper about you following him, interfering with him, delivering a fucking letter to his building—I will make your life short, ugly, and miserable. And, just so we’re on the same page, consider anything that I might be able to do you to be in the cards for your little friend Kurosaki as well.”

He bared his teeth in a rictus of a grin. “Do you understand me, Ki-chan? Think before you open that mouth of yours. This is the only chance you’re going to get.”

Kisuke picked up the cigarette where it had landed in his lap and made a distasteful moue. “You know that this,” he waved the white cylinder, “is going to be the death of you. You should know better at your age. I suppose, though, that they’re right. Old dogs really don’t learn new tricks, and you are definitely,” he reached across to the over-flowing ashtray on the Director’s desk and stubbed the ember out, “an old dog. You’re lucky you’ve lasted in this game as long as you have. Have you considered what you’ll do after the powers-that-be decide that they need to drag the Onmitsukido into the 21st century? If you’re not careful they’ll just take you out behind the building and put you out of your misery.”

Silence stretched between them, the Director’s hands clenching in fury on the desktop. Kisuke made a sympathetic sound.

“Such a shame, too. After all your years of devoted service.” He looked at the older man through the shadow cast by the brim of his hat. “Maybe you could get a job working for Taka-chan. I’m sure he’d be happy to help you, even after you retire from the field. Who needs contacts or leverage, hmm? Loyalty is so much more important.”

Kawasaki scowled and jabbed a ragged-nailed finger in the air. “You know nothing about loyalty, you bastard. I’ve watched you for fifteen years. Always thinking you know best. Disregarding orders. Breaking the chain of command any time it suits you. When the time comes, I’ll be happy to sign the kill order with your name on it. Yours, Kurosaki’s, and your little friend Shihouin. Give me a reason, Ki-chan. One reason. I’ll drop you so fast you won’t know you’re dead until you’re dining in Yomi.”

Kisuke planted both feet squarely on the floor, facing his old mentor. It’s come to this.

“Have you been to the training rooms recently, Director-san?” His voice was light. Harmless. “I hope that you have. Keeping track of your subordinates’ skills is so important in these situations. Knowing exactly what talents to match with what task. Your newest batch of recruits is very different from the class I entered with. Much more independently minded. And, while they all have honed their physical skills, many of them have never even seen combat.”

Kawasaki glared, tired of the dance.

Finally.

Kawasaki leaned forward, a look of almost delight on his face.

“Oh, I know you’ll kill some of them. Maybe all of them. I don’t care. That’s the thing you never understood. I. Don’t. Care. Plus, it has the added bonus that I know killing all those so-called innocents will destroy you. I will send everyone from the senior agents down to the mail boy if I must. You are just one man. You’ll screw up sooner or later, and I will be there to laugh as you bleed out. You with your convenient morals and your ridiculous belief that the Onmi exists for any reason but what I tell it to. I know where all the bodies are buried. No one will touch me. You are out-gunned, out-classed, and out of time, Ki-chan. Today is a new day. Okura-san understands that.”

Kisuke tsked at him, rolling his eyes derisively. Such a drama queen.

“Taka-chan understands better than you do. He understands that he has you in his pocket. He gives you scraps of power and keeps you on a leash. You’re his very own pet Onmi Director. I can’t even imagine the hard-on it gives him when you two get together. Do you always kneel for him, or is that something he reserves for blowjobs?”

Kawasaki’s rage was incandescent. “How dare you speak to me that way? I’ll kill you myself. But first, I’ll have you court-martialed. How’d you like to be convicted of treason, Ki-chan? And Kurosaki, too. You can watch yet another innocent life be destroyed because you couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut.” He almost smiled, but there were too many teeth. “I’ll ruin you first, and then I’ll have you killed. Then I’ll make your body a present to your protégé so he can take it home and piss on it. I think that will pretty much guarantee my retirement, don’t you? How’s that for a new trick, you little bitch? Hmmm?”

“Not a new trick,” Kisuke answered blandly. “Hell, not even a new family to ruin. You had Kurosaki Masaki killed. Taka-chan told me you approved it personally. Something about her connections to Mamushi’s lieutenant at the time. One of the other convenient casualties of the turf war you two engineered.”

Kawasaki dropped back into his chair and grinned. “Ah, so good of you to remember. Killing her worked even better than we’d hoped. And now, you couldn’t have done me a bigger favor than pulling Kurosaki Ichigo into the frame. What better reason for you to turn on your old yakuza associates than a new young lover whose mother was killed in a turf war? Your friend Shihouin won’t like you going against her dear Uncle Mamushi, so you’ll have to kill her, too. Then, once it’s come out that you, an Onmi-trained assassin, have killed them both, it will start a new turf war, but this time it will be between the Onmi and the yakuza. The gangs will target agents everywhere, and we will be then be able to take them out with impunity. The branches will be decimated in weeks, leaving a very nice power vacuum. Then, the public—scared to death of the yakuza—will be thrilled to accept the assistance of the Okura keiretsu. Such a respectable business, run by a retired civil servant who wants nothing more than to give back to the community that has given him so much. In the end, you will be brought in and that will be the end of Getaboshi. The irony is wonderful, isn’t it? It is practically poetic that your undoing will be the keystone of Okura-san’s success.”

“You can’t just kill me, though,” Kisuke said quietly, and Kawasaki chuckled at how much less confident he sounded.

“Oh, can’t I?” Kawasaki sat back, nicotine-stained fingers steepled. “What if you tried to kill me?” He pulled a drawer open and laid his service pistol on the desk top. “It would be easy. My word against yours.”

Kisuke snorted. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.”

Kawasaki nodded. “True. You are a born killer. Everyone knows that. But that works to my advantage as well.”

The pistol disappeared back into the desk, and Kawasaki leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially.

“You are the greatest killer the Onmitsukido has ever trained.” His voice was oily. “No one will have any trouble believing that you managed to kill the old snake where so many others failed. All I must do is convince them that after a decade of killing you’ve gone over the wall. It wouldn’t be difficult. I have reams of documents proving that you have always had zero respect for the rules, and I have dozens of people willing to testify against you. They will say anything I tell them to say.” He lit another cigarette and dragged the smoke deeply into his lungs with a satisfied sigh. “You’re trapped, Ki-chan. Even a Go master like you won’t be able to find a way out. Now, get out of my office,” the Director ordered, sneer firmly back in place. “I can’t wait until I never have to see your face again.”

Kisuke stood and stared down at the man, his face blank, before turning to leave.

“For once, something we agree on, Director,” he said. He stopped at the door and looked back over his shoulder. “I will be happy to never see your face again.”

His lip pulled up slightly at the corner as he saw the Director’s expression fade to one of doubt. He pulled the door open, and left, the seed of fear well planted behind him.

Yoruichi murmured in his ear. One life sign remains in the room. Heartrate just spiked.

Kisuke smiled.

#Urahara Kisuke #Kurosaki Ichigo #UraIchi #Bleach #Kisuke stirs up trouble #Yoruichi is listening #Tessai's smart and gets out of the way

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feelingfredly · 5 years

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The Fox Guards the Wolf

Chasing Tails

Part Fourteen

Kisuke suppressed a sigh and picked up the pizza box. It looked like Ichigo wasn’t coming after all.

He had to admit he was a little surprised. He hadn’t expected Taka-chan’s brand of persuasion to work so well on the redhead, but then Ichigo didn’t have any history with the man. He looked normal enough. Successful. An empire builder.

Unfortunately, he was also a psychopath.

Another sigh threatened. Was it really too much to ask to have one thing in his life that Okura Kagetaka couldn’t ruin?

Kisuke? Yoruichi murmured in his ear. Ichigo just arrived downstairs.

Apparently not. The pizza box trembled a little in his hand.

He was probably heading up to his apartment. There was no reason to expect him to…

“Oh, thank God, yes! Give me that!” Ichigo exploded through his door on a wave of kinetic energy and Kisuke spun on his heel, holding the box up to grabby hands. “I am starving. This whole super spy gig takes way too much effort.”

Kisuke stepped back from the table and watched Ichigo slip into a chair at his table and inhale a slice of pizza. “Super spy gig?”

Your heart rate has risen ten percent. Yoruichi said, but Kisuke ignored her. It wasn’t important. Ichigo had come.

“Mmmmm,” he moaned around the bite in his mouth and Kisuke shook his head. No one should enjoy pizza that much.

“Yeah,” he swallowed, “I had a bitch of a time getting rid of the Yakuza following me. At least I think it was one of Mamushi’s men, but it could have been someone else, I guess. Whoever it was, he stuck to me like Yuzu when she wants me to buy ice cream.”

He ate his second piece slower, apparently now convinced that it wouldn't disappear if he didn’t eat fast enough.

“Once I lost him, I went to the gym. The cleaning guy knows me, and he let me in to call Renji from their phone. Luckily he was studying so he didn’t mind the interruption.”

As the second piece disappeared, so did the edge of Ichigo’s frantic energy.

“He was already at the apartment, so that made the next part easier, but still.” He pushed back from the table a little. “I had to explain some of what was going on and honestly, considering how little I actually know about what’s going on, that didn’t go so well.”

He shrugged a little and didn’t meet Kisuke’s eyes, and the blond could tell he wanted to ask a thousand questions, but he wasn’t going to push. Yet. He wasn’t going to wait for very long, though.

“Okura-san told me to have the papers looked over, so…”

Kisuke interrupted. “I’m sorry. Papers?”

Ichigo’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “Oh yeah. You don’t know about that. Huh. I guess I’m too used to you knowing everything.”

That was a loaded statement if Kisuke'd ever heard one. It was fair, though.

“Focus, Ichigo, if you would. What papers?”

Ichigo took an extra-large bite and stared at Kisuke challengingly, forcing him to wait while he chewed. It had been a long time since anyone had been so openly defiant with him. Probably since Yoruichi had left on her current mission. It was… cute.

“I am sorry, Ichigo-kun,” he bowed his head a little, quietly teasing the redhead in return, “whenever you’re ready.”

Ichigo swallowed and shook his head. “Like I’m ever going to be ready for you.” He froze realizing what he said, and Kisuke couldn’t stop a grin from forming. Ichigo apparently decided that ignoring it was safer than denying it, and rushed on.

“Well, Okura-san tried to convince me that you were a dangerous man who had broken in to their labs and stolen or destroyed his work. He claimed the two men who jumped you at Como’s were over-zealous employees there to escort you to a meeting he'd arranged to try to get his property back, and they were only there as a safety precaution because you’re too dangerous to be allowed to come alone. Then he bemoaned the fact that I, a poor defenseless bystander,had been involved, and cried mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.”

“He said that since it was only because of his employees’ mistakes that I was entangled in this brouhaha, he wanted to make sure that I had the financial wherewithal to escape your clutches, now that you’ve decided I am a useful pawn.”

He put down the remainder of his pizza slice and Kisuke moved into the kitchen to grab a napkin for him.

“Thanks.” He wiped his hands clean and looked at Kisuke. His eyes were well-lit by the overhead lamp, and Kisuke could just see the little golden freckle that sat in the corner of one of the warm brown irises. “He gave me a settlement offer of eleven million yen to ‘cover damages’ and then a potential future position within the Okura keiretsu that would pay my tuition to med school, when I decide I want to go back.”

The two men stared at each other silently for a moment.

“Then he suggested that I have someone I trust look over the papers, so I gave them to Renji. He’ll go over them and make sure there’s nothing hidden in the legalese, like selling the guy my first-born son or something. He seems like the type who’d do something like that.”

Kisuke felt something in his chest loosen at the words. Ichigo hadn’t believed Taka after all.

“Children have never been Taka-chan’s currency of choice, but I learned long ago not to put anything past him.”

Ichigo snorted at that. “Yeah, he did the whole song and dance routine with enough skill that it was clearly something he’d practiced long and hard. Only people who have things to hide go to that much trouble.”

Kisuke wondered if he was that transparent to Ichigo. He’d practiced dissembling even longer and, arguably, to just as troublesome ends as his misguided protégé.

“Stop that.” Ichigo stood and walked the few steps into the kitchen proper, grabbing a water glass from the shelf and filling it from the tap. “You’re not the same.”

Kisuke looked at his defender and shook his head with a sad smile. “How can you be so sure, Ichigo-kun? I am not, and I’ve lived in my own head for quite a long time.”

Ichigo rinsed the glass and placed it on the drain board. “That’s your problem. You’ve been stuck in your head with all this crap for years. It’s no wonder you can’t see it.”

He started putting the leftover pizza away with the economical movements of experience, and Kisuke wondered whether it was a skill he'd developed during his time raising his sisters, or from bachelor life.

“Can’t see what?” Kisuke was almost afraid to ask.

Ichigo wet a dishcloth and moved to wipe down the table. “That you’re not Dr. Frankenstein, and if this guy, Okura, is a monster, he isn’t your creation.”

His face was unusually serious, the mobile lips held tightly as he stared at Kisuke, trying to make him understand.

“He didn’t tell you anything that was too far from the truth, Ichigo-kun.” He didn’t ever want Ichigo to feel like he’d lied to him. “I have broken into his offices and destroyed things. I have thwarted him at every turn, and I have every intention of continuing to do so. I am not innocent in all this.”

Ichigo rinsed the towel and wrung it out, placing it carefully, and Kisuke could see the tension in the other man’s posture.

“The bastard knew about my dad. My sisters. He very carefully didn’t threaten them, if you know what I mean.” His eyes darkened and Kisuke was surprised by the depth of anger he could see there. “If you hadn’t set yourself against him, I’d be very disappointed, anata.”

***

Ichigo spent the next hour recounting details. Kisuke loved details. Luckily, Ichigo had a good memory.

“The butler was impressive. I’m pretty sure she was armed—it looked like an asp like mine, maybe the shorter version?—and even Masuda-san was careful around her.” He shook his head, remembering the Yakuza’s warning. “When a gangster says to be careful around someone, I’ve learned it’s in my best interest to listen.”

Kisuke nodded. “Not a bad lesson to learn. How long did it take you to learn it?”

Ichigo grumbled. “I learned it. That’s what matters.”

Kisuke laughed, the first truly relaxed sound Ichigo had heard from him since he’d arrived. “Very true.”

Ichigo had felt more than a little bit of pride when Kisuke complimented his actions after leaving Okura’s offices. He’d half expected the blond to laugh at his gleaned-from-fiction approach to things—ditching his tail, switching computers, changing his clothes—but he’d just nodded and said, Good, good. Did you take a shower?

Ichigo didn’t want to think about why he might have needed a shower; he might never leave the apartment again.

“I don’t think she touched me, but with the backpack it’s almost impossible to tell. I wasn’t thinking about trackers or anything when I first got there, honestly. It wasn’t until I was on the way out that I remembered how she followed me into the building rather than leading me.”

Kisuke moved to put water on for tea. “Is that why you left your bag at your old apartment?”

Ichigo nodded. “I figured, if I wanted them to believe that I believed them—can this get any more convoluted?—I couldn’t come straight back here. I could have gone to my dad’s, but that’s the last place I want their attention focused.”

“So,” he said, taking his mug and looking over the rim at Kisuke and sipping slowly, “you’re going to need to put new trackers or sensors or whatever it is you use on my new stuff.”

Kisuke’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I would normally deny such behavior in the most strenuous of terms. However, since you wouldn’t believe me and I wouldn't insult you by insisting that it was true, I will simply agree and thank you for trusting me.”

Ichigo reached across the table and squeezed Kisuke’s hand. “You’re welcome.” He let the corner of his lip quirk up in a half-smile. “Don’t fuck it up.”

Kisuke met his gaze and then bowed his head . “I will do my best not to.”

***

It was late before they finished the impromptu debriefing, and Kisuke could see Ichigo’s shoulders slumping. He wasn’t accustomed to this sort of thing and as sanguine as he was pretending to be, Kisuke knew it was taking its toll.

“Kisuke?” Ichigo asked. “This thing you stole. What was it?”

The blond twisted in his seat so he could see Ichigo better. “Taka-chan was working with me when I first came up with the idea for Yoruichi.” He laughed a little. “Maybe I’d seen too many video games, but I was convinced that I could improve upon the normal concept of a security AI. You’ve seen a little of what Yoruichi can do hooked up to a known system. The complete version allows someone to embed her into a system on the fly so you can use your enemies’ security against them. It then runs a scorched earth protocol cutting all contacts with the existent hardware except for those that Yoruichi is using. It basically subverts any computerized security system, turning it into a zombie for me to use.”

“He didn’t want to stop there. Taka thought that accessing the system during an operation wasn’t enough. He thought we should use it, attack with it remotely, and leave the original system’s owner looking guilty of an unprovoked attack.”

Kisuke stirred a little restlessly. “He always believed that pitting targets against each other was the way to destabilize situations enough that someone could come in and take over with minimal effort.”

Ichigo stiffened a little. “Like the yakuza turf wars?”

Kisuke nodded. “Exactly like that. It started small. I think he was experimenting. He engineered a falling out between two Onmi agents. One was reprimanded and lost his position. He…” Kisuke paused and tried to find the best way of explaining, “he didn’t take it well. He figured out that Taka was behind the machinations but couldn’t prove anything. He tried to beat a confession out of him. Taka allowed him to do substantial damage, and then pressed charges against him.”

Ichigo frowned. “Allowed? You mean he could have stopped it?”

Kisuke nodded. “Absolutely. Taka-chan was better than anyone in the Onmi at hand to hand combat—including me. He could have ended the assault in less than a minute, but he didn’t. He wanted the injuries as testimony. He also knew that the constant reminder of the agent’s loss of control would make everyone else uneasy. It is his gift, you see, the ability to read his opponent. However, it is also his greatest weakness. Once he has evaluated a situation, he becomes inflexible. Predictable. But never underestimate him.”

“After that, I kept a closer eye on him. I was impressed with his ability to read situations and people, but I disliked how little he considered the consequences of his actions on others. The Director, though, saw his indifference as an asset. When it became clear that the local yakuza groups were choosing to organize amongst themselves against law enforcement, he sent Taka in to shake things up. It was a perfect fit in many ways. Taka’s mother worked in the soaplands in Nakasu. She died when he was young, and he worked his way up from the lowest ranks into a position of relative respect by the time he was in his early teens. That was when I found him and persuaded him that a life outside the yakuza would be preferable. It wasn’t hard. He hated the men who took advantage just because they could, not because they were better, or smarter, or even stronger. He knew he was smarter than any of the people he had to bow and scrape to, and it burned. The Director knew it, knew Taka’s hatred for the yakuza and his penchant for creating chaos, and sent him out anyway.”

Ichigo frowned. “So, you’re saying that the Director wanted a turf war?”

Kisuke shrugged. “Turf war. Assassination. Anything that would stop the gangs from working together.”

“And it didn’t matter who got hurt in the crossfire.” Ichigo rapped his knuckles on the table. “Like my mom.”

Kisuke sighed and nodded. “Like your mother. She knew the locals—some more than others—and believed that she could reason with them, but once Taka got into someone’s head, it rarely turned out well.”

Ichigo sat back and rolled his shoulders. “Sounds to me like it is time for your Taka-chan to learn a lesson about messing with people’s lives.”

Kisuke gave him a sideways look. “He isn’t my Taka-chan, you know.”

Ichigo didn’t look at him. “But he was. You still call him Taka-chan," he practically spit the name out. "Clearly he means something to you.”

Kisuke moved closer and put his hand on Ichigo’s arm until he acknowledged him.

“You’re wrong, anata. There is nothing between us. Yes, he was interested in pursuing a relationship at one time, but it was never more than a question of politics and power, and that was not a game I have ever had the time or inclination to play.”

“As far as why I call him Taka-chan, I do it because it gets under his skin. He hates being subordinate to anyone, but at this point he truly hates being beaten by me. If he had his way, I would cast aside my too-familiar ways, grovel and call him Okura-dono as he so clearly deserves, and then beg him to allow me to follow him into his brave new order where the last man standing is the only one worthy.”

Ichigo appeared mollified, but Kisuke made a mental note to try to reinforce the message when he could. The last thing he wanted was for Ichigo to think there was some twisted attraction beneath the animosity between him and Taka-chan.

“The only thing that Okura Kagetaka is to me is a threat that must be dealt with.” He wanted Ichigo to understand. Needed him to understand. “I might not have created the monster, but I gave him skills that he wouldn’t have had otherwise. So, it falls to me to make sure he doesn’t use those skills to sew more chaos.”

The redhead looked at him and slowly nodded. “I can see that. Just don’t get too caught up in it, okay? I’ve seen you working. I don’t think moderation or perspective were subjects they taught you in spy school.”

“No,” Kisuke couldn’t muffle a laugh. “No, they weren’t.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes until Ichigo turned to him and raised and eyebrow.

“I wonder… was there a class in how to steal your boyfriend’s clothes? Or did that skill just come naturally?” The sparkle was back in his eyes, the dark brown shining with amber again, and Kisuke smiled.

“Oh Ichigo, do you really need to ask? It comes naturally.” He slanted a wicked grin across the table. “Plus, if I’m wearing them, you can’t be.”

Ichigo blushed. “You are so full of it…”

Kisuke stood up and started walking down the hall. “If you want it back,” he stopped in the bedroom door, “come and take it.”

His Ichigo was never one to back down from a challenge.

#UraIchi #Bleach #Kurosaki Ichigo #Urahara Kisuke #Uncertain Kisuke #a little flirtation

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feelingfredly · 5 years

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The Fox Guards the Wolf

Part Fifteen

A Wheel Within a Wheel

Renji slid the papers across the table and stretched with a groan.

“You don’t do anything by halves, do you Kurosaki?” He looked tired. It almost made Ichigo feel bad for asking him to help.

“Go big or go home, right?” He gave a half-hearted smile. “But you know that. Hell, you’re the one who taught me that.”

That brought a sparkle to the redhead’s eye. “I guess I did, didn’t I.” A half-laugh hung in the air and then the larger man leaned forward. “Now, I’m going to teach you something else.”

Ichigo cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, Sensei?”

“Asshole.”

“Your favorite kind.”

The redhead snorted. “You’re lucky that’s true, man. But enough of this. I’ll start thinking it’s foreplay.” He waggled his eyebrows and Ichigo nodded. The time for banter had passed. “You asked for my help.”

Ichigo nodded. “Tell me what you found.”

Renji leaned forward. “First of all, the contract itself is fairly straightforward. Okura outlines the grievances you could have against their employees and admits limited responsibility for them, enumerates the fair market value of damages for those responsibilities, and agrees to pay that amount if you agree to accept their limited definition of responsibility, valuation of damages, and that you will pursue no further judgments against them. The valuations are huge for the actual behaviors that are being defined as damages, but you know that.”

Ichigo nodded. Whatever Okura’s intentions were, he wasn’t playing. He was throwing around some serious money. It was pocket change to someone like him, but still.

“It’s after that where things stop looking normal. There is some very serious language in here about non-disclosure, which is weird. It isn’t like you’re going to work for them.”

He didn’t disabuse him of that notion. He knew that somehow this was going to end up with Okura thinking he was pulling Ichigo’s strings. If he couldn’t tell anyone about it without suffering, all the better. It was all about leverage.

“They don’t want you discussing the settlement with anyone. No one. No how. You sign this… you don’t tell anyone afterwards.” Renji flipped the document open to one of the last pages and spun them towards him with a flourish. “And then… there’s this.”

Ichigo grabbed the papers and started scanning. His eyebrows rose.

“They can’t be serious.” He re-read the paragraphs in question, but his understanding didn’t change.

Renji watched his reaction and nodded. “Yeah, I thought you might like that. According to this, you have one week to review and sign this settlement, which will start a timer after which you will have one month to sever all ties with the Onmitsukido and its agents. If you fail to meet those deadlines, then the contract is null and void, and you will then find yourself open to litigation by Okura on behalf of its employees, since, if you don’t accept their evaluation of the situation and the damages you incurred, then you were responsible for the actions that led to the injuries received by two Okura employees during the fulfillment of their duties.”

It had already been four days since he received the settlement offer. That meant that if he didn’t sign this within three days, he was opening himself up to a ton of legal troubles. But, on the other hand, if he did sign it, then he had a whole other world of trouble to deal with.

Son of a bitch.

Renji let him sit and stew for a few minutes and then chuckled.

“What’s so funny, Pineapple Head,” Ichigo asked.

“Now, now,” he said, “none of that. Not when you’re going to want to hear the rest of what I have to say.”

They eyeroll was almost audible. “Okay, then, Counselor. Dazzle me.”

Renji grinned. “I told you I was working with a visiting professor, right?”

Ichigo nodded.

“Well, it just so happens that Saito Daichi-sempai is actually a benrishi.”

“And this helps me how?” Ichigo asked.

“Well, when I was reading this section, I decided that for all this contract stuff he was the best resource I had. So, I redacted the identifying bits of the document and asked him to look it over. According to him, this is a classic form of “unconscionable contract,” and wouldn’t stand up in court regardless of the situation leading up to it, even if you signed it.”

Ichigo’s shoulders sagged in relief. Thank goodness for small favors.

“He did say, however, that if you intended to accept the settlement offer, that you would have a much harder fight on your hands, so take that into consideration.”

It made sense. You wouldn’t expect a court to see a huge settlement as burdensome, even with the restrictions.

“So, you’re saying don’t sign it unless I’m willing to live by the restrictions or fight them over it, but that I shouldn’t be scared into signing if I don’t want to.”

Renji hummed. “That’s about the size of it. I will say, though, if you don’t sign it you can expect them to start making threatening noises before they realize that you’re not going to lie down and take it. It may get ugly.”

Ichigo hated bullies. It looked like a fight either way. He was okay with that. “Fuckers.”

The two sat like that for a few minutes.

“You’re not going to sign it, are you?” Renji asked, finally.

Ichigo grinned at him, an evil glint in his eye. “Of course, I am.”

Renji straightened the papers dramatically and shook his head. “Poor fools have no idea what they’ve gotten themselves into.”

***

“I know, Dad, I know.” Ichigo tried to calm him with little success. His blood was boiling.

“I told you when you got involved with them that this would happen, that it would bring nothing but trouble, and now you’re telling me that one of the most powerful men in Tokyo is watching me—watching your sisters! How could you do this? If you’d just taken the med school placement instead of going off on this crazy….”

Ichigo cut him off. “I’m not getting into that again, Dad. We’ve been over it a hundred times, and no amount of arguing is going to change what’s going on right now.”

Isshin could almost feel the steam coming out of his ears, but Ichigo was right. They had to face this danger the way he’d faced the other troubles Ichigo had brought home over the years. They survived countless run-ins with local thugs. Threats and invitations from the Yakuza. They’d survive this.

“Are you certain that the contract you signed isn’t enforceable?” he asked again.

There was no way he could pull enough strings to get Ichigo out of something like that. He had to trust that Renji was right and this wouldn’t come back to bite them all in the ass. It relieved him to know that Renji was no fool. He had to believe that between him and his mentor they wouldn’t make that kind of mistake.

Ichigo was watching him like he expected another outburst, but he answered.

“My supervisor, Tsukabishi Tessai, gave the contract to a lawyer retained by the Onmitsukido. They confirmed what Renji said. He also agrees with me that getting you and the girls out of the picture for a while is smart, especially if we can send you someplace Okura isn’t likely to have employees who can watch you.”

Isshin hadn’t made Lieutenant because he was stupid. He knew that nothing would stop someone as powerful as Okura Kagetaka from keeping eyes on his family if he stayed in Karakura Town, but he was damned if he’d just sit and wait like a dog.

“Where does Tsukabishi Tessai suggest we go?” he snarked. He hated that his son had gotten involved with these people, even when faced with the truth of what they were. Spies. Underminers. Untrustworthy bastards, all of them. Ichigo frowned and Isshin forced himself to be calm. Attacking the Onmitsukido was not the way to get his son to see reason.

“No,” he sighed and met his son’s eyes, “really. Where does he suggest we go? Is there someplace he knows that Okura isn’t likely to have eyes and ears?”

Ichigo’s shoulders loosened and Isshin allowed his to as well.

“Urahara-san suggested that you three take a little vacation to Okinawa. The Urasoe Tedako Festival will be happening soon, and there are tons of tourists flooding the area. You’ll have plenty to keep you and the girls busy, and you won’t have to worry about standing out in the crowd.”

Isshin gritted his teeth at the mention of Urahara. He knew that the man wasn’t the demon some people said he was. There were more trained assassins working for the government than freelancing. But, like the rest of the Onmi, he toyed with people’s lives. He’d come to the house after Masaki was killed. Had offered to help with expenses, and tuition. Had even somehow managed to calm the turf war between the local gangs, but for Isshin it was too little too late. If Urahara had that leverage, and had used it earlier, his Masaki might still be alive. It was only because the man had sworn to protect Ichigo after the catastrophe at the coffeehouse that he even tolerated the mention of him now.

“Let me guess,” he said, too tired to fight any more, “Urahara has already bought tickets for us, and arranged for a place for us to stay?”

Ichigo grinned a little lop-sidedly. “Actually, no. I have. I didn’t want just anyone to know what our plans were, so I used the training you gave me on shaking a tail and lost the eyes that the Onmi had on me before making the arrangements.” His eyes sparkled. “I think I may have even managed to sneak it past Kisuke… I mean, Urahara-san. But, with him it’s hard to tell. Once you board the Shinkansen, they’ll be able to track you, but I booked plane tickets from Tokyo to Sapporo, and from Yokohama to Taipei, as well as the ferry from Kagoshima to Okinawa. Once you get on the ferry, it’ll be clear if someone’s following you. You’ll have a whole day’s sailing to spot them.”

Isshin watched the gleam in Ichigo’s eye and wondered… how long had it been since he’d seen his son this enthusiastic about anything? Certainly, never about medical school.

“And you did all this for us? With your own money?” he asked.

Ichigo nodded, red creeping across his cheekbones. “You know I’ve saved everything I earned through school. You’ve taught me to be careful with money, and after the income I’ve been getting from the Onmi, this is something I can do to try to make up for putting you and the twins in the middle of all this.”

Isshin frowned, hesitant to accept such a huge gift from his son, but he knew it was already done, and it was better to just accept graciously. As much as he hated it, he had to depend on Getaboshi to keep Ichigo safe. It was his job, now, to make sure the girls were as well.

“Well, then,” he said, forcing a half-smile. “It looks like your sisters and I are going to the beach.” He puffed out his chest. “The physical therapist says that swimming is the best exercise for my back. I wonder how I’ll look in a bathing suit? Your sisters will be envied by everyone that they have such a handsome father!”

Ichigo looked so pleased that he had agreed, he almost felt bad for fighting in the first place. Almost.

He took a deep breath. Urahara had better keep his promise. If he didn’t, he would kill him himself.

#Bleach #UraIchi #Urahara Kisuke #Kurosaki Ichigo #Setting Things in Motion

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feelingfredly · 5 years

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The Fox Guards the Wolf

Part Thirteen

Wise Foxes Understand Traps

Sorry this has taken me so long. I got side tracked with a few other stories, but I'm back. Hope you all enjoy!

A few notes to those interested in my word play--

In Part 12 I wrote that Karin and Yuzu were called Tarepanda, and Rilakkuma, after characters created and owned by San-X. Tarepanda (たれぱんだ) is a cute panda whose name ["tare" (垂れ)] means "lazy" or "droopy" in Japanese. Rilakkuma (リラックマ, Rirakkuma) is a brown stuffed bear whose name means "Bear in a relaxed mood." They are both adorable and harmless, which is why the Yakuza keeping an eye on the Kurosaki twins can't decide who's who.

Okura is a Japanese family name that appears in the Shinsen Shōjiroku, an imperially commissioned Japanese genealogical record. The name means "large warehouse" which is where the nicknames the Yakuza use for people associated with the Okura keiretsu come from.

Now on with the show!

Ichigo didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or not when he realized that calling the guy they were following "warehouse" had nothing to do with warehouses.

“So, who is this guy?” he asked, finally.

Masuda-san tilted his head down and looked at him over the edge of his sunglasses. “You yanking my chain, Koguma-chan? Not nice after I let you come along and everything.”

Ichigo snorted and shook his head. “No. As much as I’d like to know what the hell is going on, I am honestly clueless. What’s the deal with the nickname? This is clearly not a warehouse.”

They were standing in front of a gleaming white office building, its mirrored windows shining in the evening sun like coral colored stained glass.

The yakuza gave him a sympathetic look. “I guess it makes sense. Getaboshi-san is as bad as the boss about keeping secrets. Worse probably.”

He pulled his cigarettes out and lit one as he moved to stand in the shade of a well-pruned boxwood hedge, offering one to Ichigo again, like he couldn’t believe anyone would actually pass up the opportunity to smoke.

“The guy we were following works for Okura Kagetaka. He’s low-level muscle from what we can tell, but with Okura it’s hard to be sure. They don’t leak much, and what you do find out is misleading about half the time. Getaboshi-san taught him well.”

Ichigo froze. “Taught him well?”

Masuda-san huffed. “Shit, you weren’t kidding. I thought you might be messing around a little, but he hasn’t told you anything, has he?” The older man took a long drag off his cigarette and frowned. “Guess he thinks the less you know the easier it’d be to keep you out of trouble. He doesn’t know you very well, does he?”

Ichigo ground his teeth and stared at the white building. “No. No, he doesn’t.”

He was going to learn, though.

“Okura-san used to be Onmitsukido. Getaboshi-san brought him in when he was just a kid. Seventeen or eighteen I think, but again… this stuff isn’t exactly talked about. They had a falling out years ago. No one knows why. My guess is Okura-san got a little greedier than Getaboshi-san was willing to tolerate.”

Ichigo frowned. “Greedier?”

The yakuza shrugged. “You get good enough at certain skill set you think rules don’t apply to you anymore.”

That was… unsettling. From what he knew of Kisuke’s skill set, having that let loose would seriously wreak havoc.

“If that’s true, how come I haven’t heard of this guy before?”

Masuda-san looked at him like he wasn’t sure he’d heard the question right. “Uh,” he shook his head, “had you ever heard of Getaboshi-san? It isn’t in their best interests to be well known.”

Ichigo sucked air in through his teeth. He should have realized that. Being a cop’s kid, he had a tendency to believe he knew more than the average citizen, but the Onmitsukido was a whole different ball game.

“I guess I have a lot to…” he stopped mid-sentence as the yakuza stepped closer and waved his hand in a shut-up movement.

A tiny woman in a black pantsuit was crossing the parking lot towards them, and Ichigo was certain she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in his life.

“Watch yourself, Koguma-chan.” Masuda whispered. “This one bites.”

It took her a minute to cross the distance, the setting sun casting a golden halo around her, and Ichigo could see the physical awareness in her movements, the gliding steps she took better suited to a dojo than the high heels she wore that would still probably only bring her up to his shoulder.

She stopped squarely in front of the two men and gave them a preposterously low bow.

“Kurosaki-san,” she said his name as if she’d known him forever, “what a pleasure it is to see you. I must admit that Okura-sama was not immediately available, but as soon as we realized that you’d arrived we notified him, and he is on his way. He apologizes for keeping you waiting and requests that you come inside and wait for him in comfort.”

She smiled a not-smile. “He was most insistent.”

Masuda gave the woman a brief bow and turned back to Ichigo. “You want me to come in with you, boss, or should I head back?”

Boss? Well, he could work with that.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, Masuda-san,” he bowed more deeply to the woman than his companion had. “Now that I’m here, there’s no need for you to stay. Tell Mamushi I appreciate your assistance, and that if there’s anything I can do to return the favor, let me know.”

The yakuza nodded and bowed his goodbye. “No problem, boss. I’ll pass the word along.”

He tossed a final half-bow to the woman, sucked the cigarette down to its filter and headed back the way they’d come. Ichigo figured he’d wait until he was out of sight before he called his boss, and then, if things went the way he expected, Kisuke would be told as well.

And didn’t that just fuck all? Caught spying by two people at once. It was a record of incompetence even for him.

“I appreciate the invitation,” he left the space open and good manners forced her to introduce herself.

“I beg your pardon, Kurosaki-san,” she said. “I am Maki Hideko. I am Okura-dono’s shitsuji.” When Ichigo did a double-take at the term, she gave a slightly more sincere version of her earlier smile.

“I’ve never met a butler before,” Ichigo said, his curiosity piqued. “I’m assuming that you do more than answer the door for him.”

The woman nodded and gestured that he should precede her. “I have been with Okura-dono for several years now. It is my honor to make things run as smoothly as possible so that he may turn his attentions to,” she cast her eyes up slightly to meet his, “more important things.”

Ichigo didn’t know whether she thought he was important or was wondering why her boss thought he was. Either way, she was determined to keep him in her snare long enough for her boss to deal with him. He could turn and run, but he couldn’t imagine that he was in any danger. Masuda had been allowed to leave easily enough.

“What can you tell me about your boss?” He figured he might as well ask a few questions while he was waiting. Even if she didn’t answer them, the way she didn’t answer them would tell him something.

“I’m sure you’re aware of the success of the Okura keiretsu,” she said as they pushed through the impressive front doors of the building and walked into the quiet air-conditioned space. Ichigo didn’t disabuse her of that notion. He didn’t think it would go over that well. “Okura-dono has built everything you see here from the ground up. I believe that speaks for itself.”

Ichigo nodded solemnly. “He is clearly very successful.”

“Indeed.”

The shitsuji led him into a small anteroom off the atrium. It was Western in style, a few upholstered chairs and a table, and Ichigo dropped his bag on the polished surface carefully before turning back to his escort.

“Would it be alright if I used my computer while I wait for Okura-san?” He tried to look as harmless as possible. If the look on Maki-san’s face was any indication, he was quite successful.

“Please, make yourself comfortable Kurosaki-san,” she bowed her agreement, “although I’m afraid we do not have a public wifi for you to use. Security issues, I’m sure you understand.”

That was the first thing he had totally understood. If what Masuda had said was true, this Okura Kagataka would have been trained to be very security conscious and letting a stranger play on your intranet was Bad Security Protocol number one.

“Absolutely.” This didn’t seem like the time to crack out the smart-ass attitude, so he bowed again. “Thank you.”

“Is there anything I can bring you? Water? Tea?” Maki-san had fallen back into her service script, but Ichigo wasn’t fooled. As he’d passed the front desk, he’d noticed the camera feeds for the room he was being kept in, and he was certain that the butler wasn’t armed in the traditional sense, but it appeared that she had something the size of his collapsible baton under the back of her jacket, so he wasn’t dealing with your typical admin.

“No thank you,” Ichigo refused. “Do you have any idea how long it might be before your boss will be here?”

A small smile crossed her face, and Ichigo felt his skin crawl a little.

“Oh, I’m certain he won’t keep you waiting. Okura-dono is very excited to finally get to meet you.” She nodded one last time and backed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

Great. Ichigo thought. I have a stalker and they’ve never even met me. What did I do to deserve this?

Kisuke’s face flashed through his mind and he grinned to himself. Oh yeah. That’s what I did. And I intend to do it again, too.

The irreverent thoughts kept him from getting too nervous as he pulled out his phone and turned on his hotspot.

One message. OMW

Ichigo smiled briefly and texted back No hurry before shoving the phone back in his pocket. No sense in advertising that he was connected to the outside world any more than he already had.

He pulled out his laptop and opened his most recent document. He focused on putting the stress of the situation aside and finding that place in his head where he was in control of everything that happened. After a few minutes he could feel his heartrate slow and his breathing even out, and he smiled to himself. Worked every time.

It was that calm face that turned to the door when it opened again.

“Okura-dono will see you now.”

***

Kagetaka didn’t know what he expected. The description of Urahara’s companion had been unusual enough to allow his men to track him down, but Kurosaki Ichigo on the page looked nothing like the young man standing in front of him.

The reports indicated an indulgent child who threw away a medical school placement to take a year off, who spent his time in coffee shops and hanging out with friends. They did not convey the predatory grace of a trained fighter, or the clearly intelligent mind behind the pretty brown eyes and dramatic orange hair.

“I appreciate your acceptance of my invitation to meet, Kurosaki-san.”

The young man raised his eyebrow a millimeter, the only indicator he gave about how little choice he was given in the decision, before bowing his head politely. “My pleasure.”

Kagetaka chuckled, and the eyebrow was raised again, this time more noticeably.

“We both know that isn’t true, but I appreciate your politeness. Your father would be proud.”

The eyebrow lowered and a faint line appeared between the reddish brows. “If you know anything about my father, you know that social niceties aren’t his strong suit.”

He inclined his head. “Yes. Lieutenant Kurosaki-san—he’s retired now, isn’t he? His injury was terribly unfortunate. —has quite the reputation as being, what do the Americans call it? A straight shooter.”

It was true. Kurosaki was never going to climb any higher than Lieutenant even if he hadn’t gotten injured. He didn’t play politics. He only cared about getting the job done. That wasn’t why Kagetaka had mentioned him, though. Kurosaki the younger needed to know that he was not the only piece on the board, and the sooner, the better.

“Well then,” the young man crossed to a chair, uninvited, and dropped lazily into it. He looked at Kagetaka, taking in his suit and tie, his expensive haircut, and his pretty brown eyes lingered on his face for a moment. Kagetaka knew he was a good-looking man. Taller than average. Better looking than Urahara in many ways. Maybe that would work to his advantage with this boy. “Since I no longer have to uphold any imaginary familial expectation, I’ll be blunt. Why am I here?”

The older man smiled. “I was going to ask you that. You did come here, first.”

Kurosaki stilled for a moment, and then gave an unrepentant grin. “For what it’s worth, I was following someone, and he led me here.” The redhead shifted, crossing his ankles, and Kagetaka couldn’t stop a tiny shift of his own in reaction. He frowned as Ichigo bared his teeth in a picture-perfect smile. “Before I even realized where I was, your butler had appeared and was chivvying me inside.”

“By then, I was curious. She made it sound like you knew all about me, and as far as I know there’s no reason for you to know me at all. So…” he inspected a finger for an invisible hangnail, and then gave Kagetaka a challenging look across the polished surface of the desk. “Here we are.”

Kagetaka chuckled. It was a nice sound. He’d practiced it for years.

“Clearly, I don’t know everything about you, Kurosaki-san,” he said. He cupped his injured hand with his healthy one, holding the white bandages in front of himself like a neon sign. Harmless. “What I do know, is that you were caught in the middle of a conflict that wasn’t of your own making, and I simply had to apologize for the situation it has put you in.”

He pressed a button on his desk, and Maki-san silently appeared with a file. She handed it over with a bow, carefully not looking at the other occupant of the room, and departed just as silently, leaving Kurosaki to stare after her.

“I have to say,” he said, “I’ve never known anyone with a butler before. I would love to interview her sometime. Research for my writing, you know. Actual details are so hard to come by when it comes to things like that.”

Kagetaka didn’t know what to make of that. If he was serious, maybe that type of information could be bartered with in time.

“Oh well,” the redhead turned back to him, his momentary curiosity shoved to a back burner. “I’m sure you’re not interested in my little hobby. You were going to show me something?”

He pointed to the file on the desk, and Kagetaka nodded.

“Yes. I had these drawn up after the unfortunate incident the other day.” He slid the file across the table with his uninjured hand. “I can only hope it makes a small reparation for whatever distress my employees put you through.”

Kagetaka went on. “The Okura keiretsu may not have the weight of age behind it, but I assure you, as long as I am director I will take full responsibility for any damages caused through our business practices.”

Kurosaki stared at the folder, a strange look on his face, and then reached out and pulled it to himself.

He scanned the pages quickly, clearly competent to sift through the legalese, and his eyebrows climbed higher than they’d been before.

“I’m afraid I’m not quite following.” He closed the file and looked across the table. Kagetaka was certain that the younger man followed perfectly well, but he wasn’t about to push the issue. “This looks like a settlement for damages. But… there were no damages. If anything, your employees,” he emphasized the word, “were the ones who were damaged.”

This was where things were likely to get sticky, so Kagetaka took his time answering.

“I don’t know if you are aware that I studied under Urahara Kisuke for a number of years.”

That got him a brief nod. He went on.

“When I left my position at the Onmitsukido, it was the most difficult decision I’d ever had to make. I had invested more than a third of my life to their service, but I finally realized that I could no longer stand by and watch as someone I considered a mentor broke the very rules that he’d initially taught me. Everyone in the department knew he’d become unstable, but I had seen it firsthand.”

Kagetaka widened his eyes and gripped his bandages a little tighter, pleased when Kurosaki’s eyes were drawn to his injured hand.

“Urahara-san didn’t appreciate my decision.” He lowered his gaze and let his shoulders droop. “The week before my departure he destroyed several years’ worth of research I’d done in my personal time, citing a conflict of interest between my personal projects and my work for the Onmitsukido. It was a serious setback for me. I had intended to use that to start my own business once I’d gotten out. However, it was his word against mine, and the material was gone anyway. I let it go and moved on.”

He looked across the table and held the other man’s gaze for a solid three count. “Urahara didn’t.”

“Over the next two years there were several ‘accidents’ in my offices where projects were suspiciously corrupted, or newly developed hardware went missing, but how could I prove his involvement? I couldn’t. However, the last time I managed to record video of him in our research facility stealing our most recent artificial intelligence research. That proof in hand, I contacted him and requested a meeting, hoping I could use the video as leverage to force him to return what he’d stolen.”

At this point he forced a self-deprecating laugh. “I probably sound paranoid but working with Urahara-san taught me the necessity of it. I sent my employees to the coffee shop that day to escort him here. They were armed for their own protection. They knew they were dealing with a trained assassin—I owed them that much information before they had to interact with him—and, being loyal to the Okura keiretsu, I am afraid that they were over-zealous in their roles.”

“You were never part of the equation. They assumed he had brought you along as backup, and, that since you were in Urahara-san’s company, you were as great a threat as he.” Kagetaka shook his head earnestly. “They would never have acted the way they did otherwise.”

Kurosaki’s eyes had widened almost comically. “You mean they thought I was a thief, too?”

Kagetaka sighed and nodded. “Urahara-san has never been one to spend time with innocents.”

The redhead flopped back in his chair, his face a study of surprise. That had gone well, Kagetaka thought.

“When I found out that not only were you not a member of the Onmi, but that you had taken the time to tend to my employees’ wounds after Urahara attacked them, I felt terrible. I was even more upset to discover that somehow the events of that day had driven Urahara to pull you closer to the Onmitsukido. I don’t know what use he hopes to put you to, but I only hope that he hasn’t treated you badly while he’s kept you there.”

He lowered his lashes and gave the redhead a small smile. “Now that I’ve met you, though, I’m less concerned. You don’t seem like the type to be taken in by fairy stories. I’m sure that growing up with your father, you learned how to hold your own.”

Kurosaki smiled back at him and gave a little nod of satisfaction. “Yeah, being a cop’s kid, I learned all about how to spot phony setups and liars. But, tell me something.”

“Certainly, Kurosaki-san,” Kagetaka agreed.

“Did you ever meet with Urahara after what happened at the coffee shop?” He leaned forward in his chair. “I mean… did you ever get back what he stole?”

Kagetaka shook his head and let out a tired sigh. “Unfortunately, no. But don’t feel bad, Kurosaki-san. That opportunity was lost, but it isn’t the first time I’ve had to start over.”

The look of frustration at the injustice of the situation on the kid’s face was everything he’d hoped for. He pushed back from the table and prepared to seal the deal.

“That, however, is my problem, not yours. So, please take the papers I gave you and have someone you trust—maybe someone with the police department?—look over them, and get back to me. I know that you’ve been living at the Onmi headquarters, and if they have some plan to use you, I’m sure they’ve made promises about your position and your future that you’d be foolish not to consider. The Onmitsukido as a whole, is a wonderful organization and they can do great things for you. This,” he waved at the file, “isn’t an attempt to match that. I just want to make sure that the actions of my people haven’t cost you your freedom. I know how Urahara works, Kurosaki-san, and I couldn’t live with myself if you, too, lost your youthful potential to him.”

***

Ichigo’s phone pinged and he pulled it out to see an unknown number calling. He accepted the call.

“Someone really hates your guts," he said, without preamble.

“You sound surprised by that discovery.” Kisuke’s voice sounded almost sad in his ear, and Ichigo frowned. He shouldn’t sound like that. “Tessai-san could probably give you a list if you’d like.”

Ichigo snorted. “I’ll ask him for one the next time I see him.”

He meant it to be humorous, but they both knew there was an uncomfortable amount of truth behind it. He was tired of not knowing what was going on. If he was going to protect his family, and Kisuke, and even the crazy Yakuza guys who kept showing up, he needed more to work with. But first he needed to do a little damage control.

“I have some questions for him anyway, but first I need to run by my old apartment.”

He didn’t explain that he was going to ditch everything he was wearing, his bag, and the file of papers. It would be clear enough when Kisuke saw him later. Luckily, he had backed up his manuscript that morning to an external drive. He’d grab his old laptop to use until he could make sure nothing futuristic or funky had been done to his current machine. The phone he’d have to keep. It would be too suspicious to ditch it, too.

Something echoed through the connection. “Will you be coming home this evening, Kurosaki-san?”

Ichigo frowned. It was almost as if he’d heard the question twice. He looked around suspiciously.

Kisuke was standing behind two parked cars about twenty feet away. Geta and bucket hat were nowhere to be seen, and Ichigo admitted that if he hadn’t recognized the blue hoodie as one that had been swiped from his own closet, he probably wouldn’t have recognized him.

Kurosaki-san? Ichigo scowled at the formality. He'd make Kisuke pay for that later.

“Why don’t you order take-out,” he said, nodding once, before dodging around a little old man walking at him like he owned the sidewalk. “It’s getting late, and I don’t feel like cooking.”

#Bleach #UraIchi #Tricks and traps #ichigo kurosaki #Urahara Kisuke

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feelingfredly · 6 years

Text

The Fox Guards the Wolf

Part Two

Rats and Snakes

Faint shadows striped the floor, pink tinged from the neon moonlight of the Tokyo night, and Okura Kagetaka’s shoulders relaxed as he crossed the threshold to his private sanctuary.

It had been a good day. His sensei would have been proud. Now all he wanted was a bath and sleep.

He was halfway to his dressing room, pulling at his tie, when his phone rang. It was business.

It was always business.

“Shachō- no-Okura.”

There was a pause on the line and Kagetaka frowned at being made to wait.

“Okura-dono,” the man finally spoke. “Chiaki Haru speaking. I apologize for bothering you, especially so late, but you indicated that you wanted updates concerning the situation with Urahara Kisuke-san as soon as we heard anything.”

The frown faded. Progress. Good.

“Hai.”

He could hear papers rustling in the background. “As you directed, Suzuki Touma-san and Kondo Sora-san were dispatched this afternoon with orders to bring Urahara Kisuke-san, willingly or not, to the research facility. The driver followed them after drop off and they made two stops, one at the convenience store east of Yoyogi Park, and from there they traveled straight to a coffee shop near Tokai University Hospital.”

Kagetaka nodded. It made sense. Shibuya was Urahara’s style. Crowds and chaos. Easy to hide in. Easy to hunt in.

“And Urahara-san?”

“As they stated, they were in possession of reliable information on his location. Ten minutes after entering the coffee shop, they left again following Urahara Kisuke-san. Their information, though, apparently did not extend to his companion. They were,” the man on the phone sounded strangled, “summarily disarmed and bundled into a car under guard. We don’t know where they were taken, as of yet.”

Kagetaka felt his stomach tighten.

“Companion? You mean Tsukabishi Tessai-san?”

Another pause. “No, Shachō. Tsukabishi-san was driving the car which took the men away, but there was another with Urahara-san in the café. It was a younger man with bright orange hair. He disarmed Suzuki-san while Urahara-san faced Kondo-san. He then reportedly gave medical attention to Kondo-san before allowing them to be removed from the scene. We are currently trying to identify him.”

Of course Kondo would need medical attention. Urahara was no fool. An attacker that could rejoin a fight would be a wasted first move. The fact that Suzuki didn’t need medical attention was the surprise.

“Did the unknown man leave the scene with the others?”

“No, Shachō. He left on foot after the others drove away.”

“Where did he go?”

Yet another extended pause. Unacceptable. Kagetaka needed to remind his people that his time was not to be wasted.

“I am sorry, Shachō. He was not followed. Since his orders were to track Urahara Kisuke-san, the driver chose to follow him instead of his companion. By the time he called in, the companion had disappeared.”

Kagetaka gritted his teeth.

“Does this mean that Urahara has been brought to the research facility as directed?”

He knew the answer. If he’d been taken, the idiot on the phone would have led with that information. Since he didn’t, failure was a given.

“No, Shachō. Again I apologize. The driver lost his target after he? crossed into Shinjuku. He has been… reprimanded.”

The Yakuza used to take fingers for failures, weakening their sword grips and making its members more dependent on their teammates. Too much of it had turned it into common knowledge, and it became easy for the police to use it to identify their members. Reprimands within the Okura keiretsu were less visible, but just as permanent.

The driver would not be failing him again.

He took a deep breath. Kondo and Suzuki being taken had been part of the plan. Urahara was infinitely more skilled than they were, regardless of what kind of firepower they were carrying. The point had been to get them in his sights, and in that the mission had succeeded. The fact that they were not actually his men was a bonus. Mamushi-san had rolled the dice when he embedded spies in the Okura organization. Kagetaka’d given them a chance at a valuable target. If they weren’t able to fulfill their orders, no one could question their disappearance, and there would be no suspicion to fall on him.

Tracking Urahara had been a higher priority, but success was still not expected. The fact that there was a new player on the scene was a much more disturbing development. That mystery would have to be solved and quickly. If Urahara-sensei had taken another under his wing after all this time, then the game had changed drastically.

“Shachō?”

Kagetaka shook himself from his reverie and peeled off his jacket before throwing it into the laundry. He would arrange for two teams to set up surveillance of the coffee shop tomorrow, but it needed to be handled discreetly. He didn’t want another of Mamushi’s men to figure out how important the redhead might be.

“Yes. That will be all Chiaki-san. Please keep me informed if anything new comes to light.”

“Yes, Shachō. Good night.”

Kagetaka disconnected and plugged the phone in to charge on the shelf in his dressing area. Everything was in motion. Now he had to be patient.

Urahara Kisuke would pay for his lack of foresight.

It had taken him nearly a decade to build the keiretsu after Urahara turned him away. The bodies he had buried in the process were the very foundation of its strength. The fear he’d instilled in the hearts of his opponents was necessary for its continuing success. Power equaled respect both on the street and in the boardroom, and he had no romantic ideals concerning the right and wrong of it.

Unlike his sensei.

He reached in to pull two towels off the shelf, and noticed a flicker of movement before a burning sensation erupted on the back of his hand. A snake.

A mamushi.

“Ah, Okura-kun, I see you found my companion.” The voice was unmistakable.

Urahara. How?

Kagetaka dropped the towels and took a step back, his mind racing. “Konbanwa, Urahara-sensei.” He stepped away from the shelf where the snake had been hidden and backed into the bedroom. “I didn’t realize you were visiting this evening. I apologize for the rudeness of your reception. If I’d been able to prepare, I would have given you the recognition you deserve.”

A shadow separated itself from the wall in the corner, and moved silently into the dim slashes of light from the windows.

“You are too kind, Okura-kun. I haven’t been your teacher for years.” The shadow stopped moving. “I know how busy you are these days. I would never want you to put yourself out on my account. I hate to be a bother.”

You’d hate for someone to be prepared for you, you mean, old man.

Kagetaka moved to the table beside the bed and picked up a discarded hair tie. He’d never make it to his phone, and he hadn’t been able to see where the snake ended up. He’d just have to hope there were no other surprises hidden in the room and wait Urahara out. He slipped the tie around his wrist and pulled it tight.

“You are never a bother, Urahara-sensei, and we both know you never stopped teaching me. Why even now, I’m certain you have a lesson in mind.”

Urahara took one more step into the room, and a band of light fell on his face. He looked the same, shaggy blond hair, gray eyes, and a foolish smile that hid a razor-sharp intellect. He wore black, but looked more modern day hipster than ninja. The hakama he wore in the dojo would stand out too much, Kagetaka supposed.

“You honor me, Okura-kun.” A mocking little bow. “A humble servant like myself could only hope to be able to provide wisdom to the head of the impressive Okura keiretsu.”

His hand burned. The snake had bitten his little finger and he could feel it beginning to swell.

“Oh my,” Urahara tilted his head and looked at the injury. “That isn’t good. You should probably get it looked at. It seems the mamushi doesn’t care for your attentions. Especially since he was simply minding his own business.” Urahara gave that little silly smile again, the one Kagetaka dreamed of smacking off his face, and shrugged but his voice held an edge. “I can sympathize. Sometimes one has to protect ones privacy, even when the attention comes from one as august as the head of the Okura keiretsu.”

Kagetaka was beginning to sweat, and little dots were obscuring his vision. He blinked rapidly to try to clear them, but no luck.

“It’s fascinating, don’t you think?”

“What is?” Kagetaka asked. Urahara kept smiling. “Mamushi venom has so many different qualities. It can cause red blood cells to rupture. Trigger swelling. Necrolysis. It can even cause a victim to lose their vision.”

Urahara stepped a fraction closer.

“You would never lose your vision, though, would you Okura-kun. No. Once you set your sights on something, it would take something radical, maybe even life-threatening, to make you change your mind.”

Kagetaka laughed shortly, pulling the hair tie even tighter around his wrist. “Sounds to me like you’re describing yourself, Sensei. I’ve never known a more single-minded man.”

Pale hands spread in a gesture of acceptance. “I admit, I can be rather focused at times. It is both a blessing and a curse. I’m sure you understand.”

Kagetaka inclined his head a fraction. “I do.”

“I am a bit surprised at our cold-blooded acquaintance’s behavior, though.” The bland tone was back. “I thought he would be friendlier. I mean, since his master is a friend of yours.”

The burning was worse, but Kagetaka kept his voice even, his attention piqued.

“His master?”

“Of course, Okura-kun. I mean, I recently spoke to two who claimed to belong to you both, so I assumed you must have some sort of relationship. It is too bad, though, that none of Mamushi-san’s pets seem to recognize you as a friend.”

“I do hope Mamushi-san doesn’t mind that I brought this pet to you. You brought his other pets to me; it seemed only appropriate.”

Kagetaka’s eyes flew to his old master’s. He knew. The bastard knew.

“Plus, I knew you would be able to provide for him. The snake’s favorite is rat, you know. And Tokyo is full of rats. Even in the nicest places.”

Embarrassment and anger made Kagetaka’s cheeks burn. Or maybe that was the snake bite, he couldn’t tell.

Urahara was watching him closely. Probably timing the venom. Ever the scientist. Ever the bastard.

“I did learn one interesting thing from the two men you sent me,” he said brightly. “Did you know that the new treatment for mamushi bite includes something called relaxation incisions to the affected body parts? It is terribly clever. They slice open seams along the skin to release tension from the swelling. That way the injured parts won’t rot and die from not getting enough blood, and it allows them to release the poison trapped in them. It means weeks of healing, but it’s better than dying from the inside out, don’t you think?”

Sensei had always told him he held grudges and anger too close to his heart, that they would poison him if he let them. Now the old fool was lecturing him again, even if his method had become more dramatic.

“It really is too bad you’re right handed. Any treatment is going to seriously hamper your ability to hold things. Pens. Brushes. Swords. Guns.” There was a pregnant pause, and then an inane laugh. “It will wreak havoc on your golf game, as well. Maybe Mamushi-san will finally be able to challenge you and beat you fair and square. You know he thrives on competition. The country club will never be the same.”

Fool. Kagetaka thought. He’d been such a fool. He shouldn’t have tried to play both ends against the middle. Urahara was a target that required his whole focus, and by trying to kill two birds with one stone, he had only opened himself up to twice the danger. Luckily, his sensei was still too sentimental. Otherwise he’d have been dead already.

Kagetaka swayed, struggling to keep himself upright.

“I apologize, Sensei, as enjoyable as it has been seeing you again, perhaps you will excuse me. It has been a long day, and I find that I still have a few things I must tend to before I can close the books for the day.”

“Of course, Okura-kun,” Urahara said, sketching a bow. “You do look a little worse for wear, if you don’t mind my saying so. You should really be more careful.”

There was a long pause, and his sensei finally showed his true face. Gray eyes stared coldly at him, even flatter than those of the snake in his dressing room, and Kagetaka swallowed thickly.

“Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

The floor rushed up to greet him, and then there was darkness. In the distance he heard a phone dialing and a cheerful voice.

“Ah, hello Chiaki Haru-san. Your master has had a little accident. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to send the physician up to his quarters. The door is unlocked.”

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feelingfredly · 5 years

Text

The Fox Guards the Wolf

Part Nine

Fighting Impulses

“So…” Ichigo stared around the room. “This is the Sanctum Sanctorum.”

Kisuke raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, and Ichigo frowned.

“Somehow I imagined more bubbling beakers and giant static electricity generators in Frankenstein’s lab.”

Still no response.

“It looks like an altar to Bill Gates and Steve Jobs, with a dose of Miyamoto Shigaru thrown in for good measure.”

That did it.

“The beakers and Bunsen burners are down the hall. The generator is in the basement. And it is much more Miyamoto than Gates or Jobs, if you don’t mind.”

Ichigo smiled. “Gotcha.”

Kisuke sighed and shook his head a little. “Yes. I admit it. You got me, and you didn’t even have to tell me my baby was ugly.”

The redhead grinned and wandered over to an empty desk in the corner. “Is this for me?”

He nodded. “I promised you time to write, didn’t I? I need you to be close in case I need to handle something in a hurry, and this way you still have your own space.”

That earned him another smile. “Next you’ll tell me I can keep a toothbrush next to your sink.”

Kisuke couldn’t resist. “My sink is just down this hall, and you can keep anything there you want, Ichigo-san.” He watched as the red head snapped up to look at him and fought not to give himself away with a smile of his own. “And my bed is big enough for two if you get tired and don’t feel like trekking back up to your apartment.”

An interesting flush crept up Ichigo’s neck, and Kisuke wondered if he reacted that way to everyone. He hoped not.

“Why do people keep trying to kidnap you?” Ichigo punctuated the statement by dropping his backpack on his desk and pulling out his computer. Kisuke assumed that meant playtime was over.

“My fascinating personality?” He dropped into his chair and pulled two keyboard trays towards him, hitting a careful progression of keys to unlock the computers, while Ichigo plugged in his laptop.

A few beeps and whirs later both men had their respective workstations up and running.

“Seriously,” Ichigo spun his chair to face him. “If I’m going to keep running into these guys I should at least know that much. Is it leverage? Money? Access?”

Kisuke pushed back from his work for a moment and considered how much to explain.

“I suppose,” he said, “in its simplest terms, they want to know what I know.”

Ichigo frowned harder than usual. “Do you mean they want to know how much you know, or they want to have the same knowledge you have?”

Kisuke admired how quickly Ichigo recognized the potential layers in his explanation. Always the wordsmith.

“Mostly the latter.” He pulled his fan out and tapped his chin a few times. “Although, the former is something they wouldn’t mind knowing either.”

“So basically, they want to force you to make whatever it is you’re making for them, and they want to know how much about them you and the others here,” he waved his hands to indicate the office building, “know about their plots and plans to take over the world.”

Kisuke nodded. “That’s about the size of it, yes.”

“Huh.” Ichigo looked disappointed. “Here I was hoping for something exotic, long-ranging and complex, but it’s really just business as usual, isn’t it?”

“I beg your pardon?” Kisuke stared across the office at his companion. It was the first time he’d heard anyone associated with the Onmitsukido, even as tangentially as Kurosaki, declare that one of their conflicts was basically… boring.

“I mean, you’re working on something that’s new and different, but that’s not the plot is it? The plot is someone wants something that doesn’t belong to them, and they’ll do what they can to get it.” Ichigo shrugged, unimpressed. “Am I wrong?”

“Not really.” Kisuke gave a half-hearted smile. “I think the only things that change are the names of the people involved, and how many times they’ve stabbed each other in the back to try to get an advantage over the other side.”

He thought of Okura Kagetaka sadly. “I’m not even sure some of them know which side is which anymore.”

“Is this thing you’re working on something that would work for anyone?” Ichigo asked.

Kisuke considered the combat AI and how it could be applied. “Yes. And before you ask, I considered that when I started designing it.” He looked at his computer screens, taking in the bits of code sitting there, and tried to imagine never having started the project. Never having mapped out how it would work. Never having mastered the intricacies of Yoruichi’s AI function. It made him terribly sad. “I just couldn’t not create it. Do you understand?”

Ichigo’s brown eyes looked at him full of sympathy. “I do. Probably more than most.” He laughed a little under his breath. “Do you have any idea how many times my friends and family have asked me what the hell I’m doing taking a year off to write a novel? I know it isn’t the same. My stories are never going to earn me a place on the cover of SuperSpy magazine, but when they’re in my brain I just can’t ignore them. They’re too real for me to just let them fade away.”

Kisuke nodded. “You do understand, then.” He looked back down and started typing, trying to get his suddenly jumbled thoughts in order.

Ichigo watched him quietly for a moment and then turned back to his own work.

***

Ichigo stretched and his back cracked ominously. He really needed to work on his posture while he was typing.

“Why is it so hard to dispose of a body?”

Kisuke didn’t look up from his work. “Human body?”

Ichigo snorted. “Yes. Human body. What other body would you worry about disposing of?”

Kisuke made a noncommittal sound. “Well, if you’d taken out an animal but were trying to disguise your presence you’d need to worry about disposal. A dead gorilla would be a dead giveaway to anyone tracking you through the jungle. Gorillas don’t have many natural predators, and none that would leave the same marks as most weapons.”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t be worrying about disposing of the body, I’d just want to temporarily hide it, probably in place because I wouldn’t be able to drag something that big very far from where I killed it.”

“True.” Another noncommittal sound. “So, how much time do you have?”

Ichigo huffed. “Time for what?”

“To dispose of the body, of course,” Kisuke huffed.

“Uh,” Ichigo rifled through his notes, “Ten hours? Well, ten hours to remove it from the first site and get that cleaned up. After that I don’t care how long it takes to dispose of it, as long as it doesn’t lead anyone back to me.”

Kisuke hmm’d softly. “You want to move it as soon as possible if you can. Leaving it in place gives you too many variables. Plus, it makes clean up much worse. How much blood?”

Ichigo stared at the blond. Were they really having this conversation? “None. Hopefully.”

“How’d you kill him? Drugs? Poison?” Kisuke still hadn’t looked up from his computer.

“Scopolamine. Accidental overdose.”

“Classic. Too bad it was an accident.”

Ichigo tried to figure out what he meant by that but couldn’t follow the train of thought.

“Why is it too bad?”

“If you meant to kill him, you could’ve used the scopolamine’s effects to get him to go wherever you eventually intended to dispose of the body under his own steam. Then you wouldn’t have the transport problem. You’d have to make sure no one saw you with him, but that’s not a significant obstacle most of the time.”

“It really works like that? The whole Devil’s Breath, thing?” Ichigo was fascinated.

“Yes. The drug cartels in Colombia have been using it for decades. Scarily effective.” Kisuke stopped typing and finally looked up. “But it’s better if you don’t write it that way. You might make some people… nervous.”

Ichigo weighed the idea and nodded slowly.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

***

Kisuke touched the sensor behind his ear and Yoruichi’s voice greeted him. Hello Kisuke.

“Update data files on Kurosaki Ichigo.”

A few seconds passed, and the voice purred at him again. Data files updated.

“Did you say something, Urahara-san?” Ichigo pulled his earbud out and turned to look at him.

“Just talking to myself, Kurosaki-san,” he said. It was true. There wasn’t anything in this Yoruichi that wasn’t him. Just an enhanced him.

“I think I’m going to head upstairs for dinner.” Ichigo looked back over his shoulder. “Do you have plans?”

Kisuke looked at the clock in surprise. He hadn’t realized it was so late already.

“I’m so sorry, Kurosaki-san. I completely lost track of the time.”

Ichigo just smiled. “So did I. I can’t believe how much progress I made today. You want to come up for curry? My sister Yuzu sent enough for an army.”

Kisuke stared at the redhead. No one had ever been happy with his losing track of time before.

“Curry sounds delicious.”

***

“Did Tsukabishi-san say there was a gym in the basement?” Ichigo finished drying the last bowl and put it back in the cabinet. “I really need to get a workout in tomorrow if possible.”

Kisuke nodded. “There are two. One has the basic treadmills, weights, and so on, and the other is for sparring. I’m sure you could find a partner if you’re interested. It isn’t like a dojo, though. Down there pretty much anything goes. It’s more about efficacy than style.”

If he thought that was going to be a deterrent, he was in for a surprise. The redhead actually looked more interested.

“It would be a good to stretch myself against someone who isn’t just going to use traditional judo. I haven’t had a real fight since high school.” He laughed, but Kisuke could sense the excitement bubbling just under the surface.

Every time he thought he had a handle on Kurosaki something happened to prove him wrong.

“Don’t tell me your father encouraged fighting.”

The younger man grinned and picked up his cup of tea. “Encouraged is a strong word. Let’s just say that my dad understood that it was likely to happen, and believed that if I was going to fight, I’d better be good enough at it to both walk away the winner, and to leave no permanent damage behind me.”

That sounded like the Kurosaki Isshin Kisuke remembered.

“No permanent damage, hmm?” he asked, pouring tea for himself as well.

“He always said it was because he didn’t want me to turn into a thug and it was important to think about the long-term consequences of my actions. But I know the truth.”

“And what was that?”

Ichigo took a drink and met his eyes over the top of the cup. “He didn’t want to have to do the paperwork afterwards, of course.”

Kisuke didn’t choke on his tea, but it was a close call.

***

The exercise rooms were surprisingly crowded. Or not surprisingly crowded, if you thought about the jobs most of these people had. This was an associated branch of the Onmitsukido after all.

Ichigo looked at the people sparring and was impressed by the sheer variety. There were young and old, male and female. He heard Japanese, English, Korean, and an African language he couldn’t identify, but they all had one thing in common. They were all kicking ass and taking names.

“You must be Kurosaki Ichigo-san.” A pleasantly non-descript young woman in her twenties appeared at his elbow. “Welcome to the team!” She gave a brief bow that was respectful enough to make him feel like he was actually welcome, but somehow conveyed the message that he still had some question marks beside his name. “I’m Tanaka Midori.”

Ichigo returned the bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Tanaka Midori-san.” He indicated the people scattered across the mats. “Is it always this crowded?”

The young woman looked around and nodded. “Most mornings, yes. Everyone likes to get their workout in early in the day so they don’t end up missing it if their schedule changes unexpectedly.”

That made sense. Maybe he’d do better to put off his workout until later in the day.

“Kurosaki-san.”

Ichigo turned, only slightly surprised to see Kisuke standing behind him. “Good morning, Urahara-san. What brings you out of your lair this morning?”

Tanaka stiffened beside him and he supposed he should be more respectful to Kisuke around his coworkers.

Were they his coworkers? He’d never seen anyone around except Tessai. He’d have to ask.

“I realized after our conversation last night how long it had been since I’d gotten in a good sparring session.”

Tanaka stared at him slack-jawed and Ichigo wondered if that indicated that Urahara was lying about sparring, or that just seeing him outside his lab was disconcerting enough to throw her for a loop.

Considering the physical control he’d seen the blond exert, he was betting it was the former. But, if he wanted to pretend he lacked skills, who was Ichigo to protest?

He wandered over to the corner where they had an area for stretches and sat down next to the wall, legs spread as widely as possible, and slowly scooted forward until he felt the insides of his thighs begin to burn. He sat like that for ten seconds and then rotated into a Chinese split, and held that, breathing deeply as he felt his muscles first protest and then relax into the familiar movement.

Urahara had taken the opportunity to prop one foot on a waist-high beam and lean into a hamstring stretch that looked completely effortless.

They stretched like that for a few more minutes in silence, until Ichigo figured it was time to roll the dice.

“Shall we shake the dust off, Urahara-san?” He pretended not to notice the audience they were gathering.

“Nothing would suit me better, Kurosaki-san.”

***

The sparring areas were simply mats spread out through the basement with walkways between, and Ichigo led them to the nearest unoccupied set and bowed before stepping on them

“Rules?”

Kisuke shrugged. “Why don’t you decide this time. It is too early for me to be making decisions.”

Ichigo cocked his head to one side and he half expected an argument, but the redhead surprised him again.

“Let’s try to keep it civil, then. No knee shots or eye-gouging, and I’d prefer not to be singing soprano afterwards. Good for you?”

He couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. “Good enough, Kurosaki-san.” He faced the younger man and settled into a comfortable stance. This was going to be interesting.

Ichigo slowly moved counter-clockwise a step and then another, and Kisuke played along, but unlike many of his sparring partners, he didn’t dance around. No, the redhead was much more cautious, watching his feet and hands, trying to see when the tendons tightened to move.

So, Kisuke did the same.

They measured each other that way, judging reach and angles, until Ichigo sighed.

“This is boring.”

In a split second the younger man had closed the space between them, lashing out with his left leg, first kicking low and then high without withdrawing to rebalance. Kisuke took the first kick to the calf and then blocked the second, moving quickly to the side before landing a closed fist strike on the inside of Ichigo’s thigh just above the knee.

There was an indrawn breath behind him, and he wondered what their audience would think of what came next.

As expected, the thigh strike threw Ichigo off balance, but he quickly regrouped, and sent a flurry of punches and strikes—arm, chest, arm, turn and strike to the back—and Kisuke flowed into his defense. Blocking he could tell that Ichigo was still feeling him out, measuring how much force to use to strike without over-committing, and he leaned back, using his superior reach, and swung his right foot up, just missing the redhead’s chin.

A scowl appeared for a moment on Ichigo’s face, and Kisuke knew his intentional undershot had been recognized and unappreciated.

It might not have been Kisuke’s best idea.

He watched as Ichigo changed stances, dropping his traditional karate positioning into something looser and dirtier.

Kisuke threw a short punch, snapping Ichigo’s head back from the quick jolt, but as he pulled back, he noticed a strange short slide of Ichigo’s foot. Somehow the smaller man channeled the energy behind his punch, translating it into a modified backbend, and he watched in surprise as Ichigo dropped both hands to the floor behind him and kicked him first in the hip, then the chest, and then finally in the chin, before flipping over and away from him after landing the shot that Kisuke had chosen not to.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually landed a hit like that on him.

He grinned.

Two quick shifts later and he had Ichigo’s elbow stretched to its natural limit, but before he could lock it into place to force him to the mat, his foot was lifted just enough for Ichigo to spin him in a half-circle, drop to one knee, force the overextension of his own arm but in a way that pulled Kisuke forward and over him, so he could then ram upward and headbutt him in the solar plexus.

The two separated, breathing harder now.

Kisuke noticed that the redhead was gently shaking the arm he’d just sacrificed, and he quirked an eyebrow. Ichigo shook his head in silent refusal, and they faced off again.

This time Ichigo went straight for a judo throw, lunging forward and grabbing the front of Kisuke’s gi. He slid his right leg between Kisuke’s thighs, and pulled him forward with all his strength, sliding him up to where he was practically sitting against Ichigo’s hip. As the shorter man prepared to pull him over, Kisuke forced himself further forward into the hold, and then wrapped his arm around the redhead’s throat. Ichigo realized that if he threw Kisuke at that point, he’d basically strangle himself in the process, so he performed a quick release, and shoved instead, sending Kisuke backwards with a stumble.

Their audience had grown, and he could hear mutterings from the crowd.

It was his turn to attack. Low punch, elbow block, hit to the ear, and then grab the redhead by the gi and use his own bodyweight to throw him to the floor. But instead of faceplanting, Ichigo hit the mat on his hands and made a perfect leg sweep, catching Kisuke’s leg just enough to keep him from following through with a floor hold and pin.

By this point Tanaka Midori and the others had seen enough. No one in the gym would wonder why Ichigo had been brought onto the team. Now it was time to really push things.

Ichigo’s face was flushed and his eyes were wide and bright. There was a sheen of perspiration on his skin, and Kisuke could practically feel the weight of his focus. It made his skin hot, and his heart race, and it had nothing to do with the exertion of sparring.

It would always be like this between them, he thought.

He crossed the space between them and jabbed into the brachial nerve cluster at Ichigo’s right shoulder, eliciting the first true gasp of pain from his opponent. He followed that up with a side strike to his neck, and then flipped the smaller man around, pulling both arms up into a full nelson.

He pressed on the back of Ichigo’s neck, forcing his head down, cutting off his air, and reducing the blood-flow to his head, and he started a slow ten count.

Ichigo groaned, and Kisuke could feel it vibrate under his hands. He’d reached six by the time Ichigo tried to counter, dropping his weight a little, but he wasn’t concerned. Once the gray started setting in, it would be over.

Ichigo raised his hands to his own head. It was probably pounding from the restricted circulation, but he hadn’t tapped out yet, and Kisuke was a patient man. But then, suddenly, the redhead struck himself in the forehead, and the shock of the impact both snapped his head back allowing a rush of blood to travel back in, and it loosened Kisuke’s grip just long enough, that when Ichigo dropped his weight entirely, stomping backwards on the arch of Kisuke’s foot, and rotating his hip to pull Kisuke completely around his body, he was caught completely by surprise. It was such a novel sensation that he simply released his hold, and let himself be pinned.

Ichigo looked down at him, their breath mingling their faces were so close together, and Kisuke could feel the redhead’s heart pounding where their chests were pressed into the floor.

A murmur was spreading and Kisuke could hear whispers of he pinned Getaboshi from the crowd. Ichigo must have heard it too. He pushed off and rolled to his feet in an easy movement, offering Kisuke a hand as he stood.

“Thanks for taking it easy on me, Urahara-san.” He gave a polite little bow and turned away from the crowd standing around. “We’d better get cleaned up, though. Tsukabishi-san wanted me to remind you that you had an appointment at eleven, and I don’t think either of us would come away from that fight in once piece if I let you miss it.”

Kisuke watched as the spectators dispersed, Ichigo’s comments reducing what would normally have been gossip mill fodder for a month into just another sparring session. He had controlled an entire room of trained agents with three sentences.

Kisuke’s heart sped up noticeably enough that he didn’t need Yoruichi in his ear informing him of it. How was it that Ichigo managed to keep him so off balance, so fascinated?

They pushed the button for the elevator and waited, listening to the sounds of sparring starting up again behind them. Kisuke could feel the heat pouring off the man next to him, could smell the faint tang of perspiration.

The door opened. They stepped in. The door closed.

“Why’d you let me do it?” He wasn’t sure what Ichigo meant.

“Do what?”

“Why’d you let me break loose so easily?” Ichigo’s voice was a little rough and he hoped he hadn’t injured his windpipe with the throat punch.

Kisuke remembered the vicious heel to the instep, and the elbow to the ribs, and wondered what Ichigo would think of as hard.

“We were sparring,” he said as the door opened on his floor. “Anyway, my ego is healthy enough that I don’t have to win.” He gave a little half-smile. “At least not all the time.”

Ichigo stepped further back into the elevator, his eyes fastened on Kisuke’s, that fascinating flush on his cheeks again.

“Okay,” he said, “But to be fair, I’ll let you pin me next time.”

The doors closed.

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