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A Shadow of What Was	By : katami Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 49594 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author's Notes: Irana, when has Grimmjow ever gotten what he expected with Jyuushiro and Shunsui?

Affie, I'm glad you guys like my take on Grimmjow, I was actually nervous about how that would go over.

Glad to make someone's day, Satterb, and glad you are enjoying.

Happy Holidays to one and all. I am off to hide from the kin folk and pray that my eyes don't look too glazed when thinking about Byakuya and Ulquiorra.

* * *

The door opened but Kisuke didn't bother to glance up from the box, which was sitting across his knees. He had been trying to convince himself to open it since waking up and hadn't quite worked up the nerve yet. Something told him that it was his own Pandora's box he held and that once it was open his other selves were never going to go back into it - not that they seemed inclined to anyway.

Not that he was even sure he wanted them to.

Isshin and Ryuuken's talk had helped allay his fears of the Captain and Urahara somewhat; and the...he wasn't even sure what that had been back at the shoten, but whatever it was had helped. He had been them for a moment and still held on to himself. He had simply been both of them - or all three of them really - and it had made sense. There had been no confusion, no fear, just him - complete and as he had been meant to be.

"I made tea. Get your ass down if you want any," growled Hiyori, although Kisuke could hear the faint edge of uncertainty in her voice. It was the closest the little Vaizard would come to admitting she wouldn't mind his company and Kisuke found a tiny smile tugging at his lips.

"Green?" he asked, standing and tucking the box under his arm.

"With lots of lemon," Hiyori told him with smirk. Kisuke felt amusement well up from deep inside him at the once familiar argument. He gave Hiyori's head a gentle pat and watched her bristle before giving her a teasing smirk of his own.

�I�m up for a cup. Will any of the others be joining us or is this just a Twelfth division reunion?� he asked, trying to keep his tone light and playful but knowing he fell flat. He wasn�t her captain and she wasn�t the girl he remembered - they both knew it. Kisuke wondered what had prompted the young Vaizard to seek him out and pretend that they were the same people they had once been.

"Jerk," she snapped, kicking his shin. "The others are out buying shit. Me and Hachi got stuck watching your lame ass."

"Into every life and all that," he retorted with a tiny smile, following her down the stairs as she stormed down them and into the kitchen. There was no sign of Hachi, but there was a teapot and two cups on the table. Kisuke sighed and slid into a chair, depositing the box and looking expectantly at Hiyori. The little blonde snorted and poured him a cup of tea, carelessly handing it towards him, which told him exactly how nervous she was. The more tightly coiled Hiyori got the more she tried to act like nothing was wrong.

He breathed in the scent of green tea mixed with a tangy citrus overlay and sighed, his eyes sliding closed to savor it. He preferred his tea straight, but Hiyori liked hers with lemon and the tiny Vaizard had refused to serve him tea unless it was the way she liked it when she had been his vice captain.

They drank their tea in strained silence, neither of them knowing what to say to the other and a part of Kisuke mourned the familiarity they had once had. They had never been exactly friends, but they had cared for each other in their own odd way - like her and Shinji.

"So ya know how to use that sword or what?" demanded Hiyori, breaking into his reverie and making him smile.

"I could show you," he offered, a bright smile pulling at his lips and his eyes shining as his right hand fell to his hip and Benihime. The zanpakutou whispered a soft note of sleepy greeting to him that slid over his senses like silk. The Vaizard blinked at him for a moment, startled, before she gave him a cutting grin with just a hint of fang.

"I guess I could kick your ass later."

"Of course you could," he agreed placidly, earning a frown and a low growl from the little blonde.

"The sword I can understand, but why the hell are you carrying that thing everywhere?" demanded Hiyori, glaring at the shoebox.

"I'm trying to get up the nerve to open it," he admitted, sparing a glance at the rather innocuous looking box.

"What's so scary about a shoebox, lame ass," snorted the little Vaizard reaching over and tugging off the lid. As she stared into the box her eyes grew round and a tiny 'oh' slipped from her lips.

"Even Urahara had things that were important to him," murmured Kisuke, taking a sip of his tea. He could feel the gentle longing and sadness stir in his chest, but the feelings were soft and placid rather than overwhelming. �Things he wanted to remember and treasure.�

He set his cup on table and took a bracing breath before confronting the box. On top was his captain�s haori, quickly folded, but with the Twelfth�s device clearly visible. Kisuke reached out for it, fingers brushing the material softly, almost reverently, feeling the Captain�s pride at obtaining it and Urahara�s impotent fury at having it taken away. The haori was the symbol of everything he had wanted growing up, of all he had achieved. It was also the symbol of everything he had lost. He had left Soul Society in the dead of night, with nothing but the clothes on his back, an exile never to return; and nothing symbolized that half as well as the haori he would never be allowed to wear again.

�Bet that pissed off clown face,� said Hiyori, her tone positively gleeful. �You taking it, I mean.�

�Probably. He always did want my job,� murmured Kisuke, carefully lifting the haori and setting it aside, his hands lingering over it for only a moment.

Under it was an odd collection of trivial seeming items. There was a deck of cards, yellowed with age and worn around the edges, from the first time he had been invited to play poker with Isshin and some of the older Shinigami. There was a broken silver necklace on which had once hung a Quincy cross - Ryuuken�s. There was a gaily decorated fan of Chinese silk - red with herons painted on it - a gift from Shunsui for when he had been made a Shinigami. There was a small jade prayer bead, well worn and often handled; it was a clear beautiful shade of green that seemed both serene and mysterious. The treasure of a Rukongai child, carefully horded and jealously guarded.

Kisuke picked up the bead, rolling it around his palm and staring at it, unable to completely suppress the sadness that wash through him. For an instant he was an eight year old boy in the 78th, cold and hungry, alone in the world with nothing but the small green bead in his hand - a treasure beyond imagining for a child with nothing.

His eyes blinked open and returned to the box, shoving the memory away. There was a small plastic bag of loose tea leaves carefully preserved - his first birthday gift. Next to that was a small dried flower that Masaki had given him at her wedding. She had kissed his cheek and hugged him that day.

Under those were various pictures of Urahara with friends at important functions - the day he had been accepted into the Gotei 13, him in his captain's uniform, a picture of him, Hiyori and Shinji (Shinji was holding Hiyori upside down by the ankle after she had tried to kick him and he had put bunny ears on Shinji). There was a picture of him, Isshin and Ryuuken all looking very stylish in human clothes, one of him kissing Masaki under the mistletoe at a Christmas party, and one of him, Tessai, Ururu and Jinta all together in front of the shop. There was a picture of him and Ichigo sitting on the porch, their heads close together and the two of them talking softly, and one of Yoruichi trying to pants him at the beach while everyone looked on. He had been rescued by Ichigo and Renji uniting to toss Yoruichi into the water. A worthy and noble goal.

Under all those, tucked at the very bottom of the box, almost as an afterthought, was a plain white envelope. Kisuke stared at it, a sad longing going through him, before he lifted it and opened it. The first picture was of him and Ichigo (him grinning into the camera and Ichigo frowning), his arm around the younger man. In the next he was trying to kiss the redhead and being held off and clearly scolded. Then they were kissing, Ichigo's hands tangled in his hair. In the next picture their noses were touching and they were staring into each other's eyes, nothing in the world but the two of them. Kisuke took a shuddering breath, his hands trembling, looking at them it was easy to see how in love they had been.

"Still can't get used to that," muttered Hiyori, coming around to stare at the picture. Kisuke glanced up at her and the little blonde elaborated. "You and him. Together. It seems so fucking nuts, but you guys...," she trailed off, looking at the picture. Looking at the picture, at how they had been, it was easy to see what she meant. They worked. They worked in all the little ways couples were supposed to.

"Yeah," he breathed softly, suddenly not afraid of Ichigo but of losing the chance to recapture what they had once had together. "Do you have a phone?"

"Uh...Did the idiot forget to mention the whole in hiding thing? Because generally in hiding you don't call your boyfriend to sort out shit that could wait until after the megalomaniac is dealt with," growled Hiyori.

"Which idiot? We have a surplus of them in Karakura - starting with you if you think I am going to drop this. The phone was a request. Next time will be a demand. After that, I will get unpleasant. I will be speaking with Ichigo within the hour however. You can help me or you can get out of my way, Hiyori. Either way this is happening," Kisuke growled, hardly able to believe the sudden steel in his voice or the cool crispness of his tone. Apparently it shocked the young woman across from him because she was staring at him with wide-eyed wonder.

"Son of a bitch," she breathed softly.

"My mother is actually a very nice woman," he murmured, thinking of the quiet voice that had sung to him when he was little, or the soft hand that had soothed his brow when he was sick. He could sense Urahara's wonder and the Captain's quiet hunger for Mizuno Sayo, and the almost reverent way both viewed her.

A mother. Their mother. Either of them would have walked through fire for the woman, Kisuke realized with astonishment. She offered them something they had longed for ever since they could remember - a family. It didn't matter that she was only his mother, he was part of them and through him they were linked to her. Just as he was linked to Ichigo, he realized. He wasn't exactly the Urahara Kisuke who had fallen in love with Kurosaki Ichigo, but he was a part of him, just like the Captain and Hat-n-Clogs were a part of him Three parts of one whole. It was such a simple realization, but it made things so easy, swept away the doubts and confusion and left only calm certainty.

"Now about that phone," he murmured with deceptive tranquility.
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A Shadow of What Was