put it in a pan, stirred it with my finger

[vivememorleti]

It's only been forty-seven minutes since he's arrived, but Kisuke has already managed to glean the basics of the situation out of the surroundings through careful observation. But all of that can only get him so far, and there is no need to be so eternally surreptitious when he knows that there is a valuable source out there in the city. The most valuable of all. Someone that knows him, someone that trusts him ... just enough, and not too much.

He hasn't been to the apartment assigned to him yet. There hasn't been much reason to, besides curiosity, and he has other curiosities that are more pressing. They bring him across the city to where she is in moments. He'd felt her there as soon as he had arrived, of course. There was something about her, as if she were letting her reiatsu drift across the city, just subtley enough for those who knew where and how to look to take a peek. He knows why, of course. Whether or not she does.

She's waiting for him.

Someone far more important than Kisuke, that was, but he can take advantage of it nevertheless. He finds himself outside of her first floor apartment. Leaning forward, he breathes against the glass until it fogs, quickly drawing a small, curvy heart in the ice crystals before rapping his sharp knuckles against the glass.

"Kuchiki-saaaan, I know that you're in there, you know. Open up and let me in, would you please? It's very cold out here and I have bare ankles!"

Comments

[unburden]

Rukia startles immediately at the feel of someone tapping at her window. She's been working on homework, quiet at her desk and with every intention of calling Rin afterward to check if he needs any help with his own, but the intrusion causes her to leap to her feet, grabbing behind her for the glove to expel herself out of her body.

Until the voice registers, and she blinks at the sight of Kisuke leaning up to her window. Normally, she might wonder if she's imagining the scene, but the heart drawn into a frosted circle on her window is just ridiculous enough that she couldn't have conceived of it herself. Sighing heavily, Rukia presses her lips thinly together and strides easily to the window, sliding open the lock and pushing the pane off to the side. The screen easily pivots into the room, and Rukia offers a wave of her arm in the direction of her room.

"Urahara-san," she says, trying to mask the deep relief that she feels in his presence, but not bothering to hide the slight unease. When he's from will end up being a critical detail.

"You could have used the door."

[vivememorleti]

"No, I really couldn't have," he says with a deep laugh before climbing in, having only a little trouble fitting himself through from the ground outside, but he manages and holds up his prize in front of her. It's just the manila envelope that had been there at the train station. It isn't the envelope, exactly, that means he couldn't come in, but the fact that he is not wearing any gigai, which means that it would have, for all intents and purposes, appeared to have been carrying itself.

The lack of body alone should be enough to give Rukia a small idea of his situation, only because he so rarely exits his own. It feels less like slipping out of a claustrophobic room for him anymore, than shedding the comfort of a warm blanket. It's simply been too long.

"Lucky to find you were here," he says. He won't take his shoes off until she invites him to stay directly, and he lingers near the window, though he turns to shut it, and shut out the November chill.

"What a nice autumn night," he says, "for a talk with you."

[unburden]

He presents his envelope in much of the same way that Rukia imagines one might dangle a toy in front of a cat, as though expecting her to do something with it, but the envelope is not really hers to take or do anything special with, so Rukia leaves Kisuke hanging. The point is made, however, calling attention to the fact that Kisuke is not, as Rukia is, wearing any sort of gigai to help him blend normally with the folks outside.

Which is worrisome in of itself, because Kisuke doesn't shed that gigai for any small reason.

Closing the curtains over the window, Rukia flips the main light of the room on. Thankfully, today her bed is made, and her room has a couple of chairs in it besides. "Please, have a seat," she says, waving in the direction of the larger one, before stepping to the side of her bed, contemplating it.

She looks up, deciding to extend the courtesy. There's no need to rush. "Would you like something to drink, Urahara-san?"

[vivememorleti]

"There's no need for you to go to the trouble, Kuchiki-san," he says, neatly slipping his feet out of his shoes to leave them in a line by the window, before moving further into the small apartment, taking in the shape of it, the size, where all of the rooms are. A first floor apartment is a nice snatch for Rukia, she's quite lucky, he thinks, at least in that small respect. He adds, "I'll take something warm, though."

Seating himself in the chair by the bed -- it is either for company, or for Ichigo, because it's big for Rukia -- he sets his cane down on the corner of her bed before looking up at her from beneath the brim of his hat, eyes wide.

"How long have you been trapped here? You haven't done anything with your hair, so either you are from before you had it cut, or months after I last saw you. In the first case, that would mean that whatever time you, and Kurosaki-san by the feel of it, had spent here had no effect on the timeline back there. That's the sort of answer I'm fishing for, anyway."

[unburden]

Even with the subtle acceptance of her offer, Kisuke doesn't stop to give Rukia time to dip into the kitchen, to where the electric kettle and a pair of mugs are tucked away in a cabinet. She stands politely, rather than sitting, to show that his request hasn't escaped her notice, hands folded neatly in front of her person, only breaking apart briefly to touch at her hair.

It's about the same length as it was when she'd left Karakura, only to arrive here, long enough to tickle at the back of her neck without getting in the way on her patrol. She's considered cutting it even shorter on more than one occasion, but like everything else about her life here, she feels suspended in a moment, encased in glass, and nothing must change if she hopes to leave the same way she came.

Her gaze drops.

"I have been here for nineteen months," she says first, before making eye contact again. "When Ichigo first arrived, he was from a different time than myself, ahead by a few months compared to what I had experienced. He had memories of me that I didn't remember experiencing. Your first theory is therefore probably closer to the truth."

Hands shaking, Rukia steps out of the bedroom, somehow managing to gather the kettle, filled with water, and the mugs and tea leaves necessary for brewing. Stepping back into the room, she keeps her chin high before placing everything neatly on her desk and plugging the kettle into a nearby extension cord. "So, how are things back home?" she asks, gaze suddenly steady.

[vivememorleti]

He notices the shake in her hands. He is too observant not to, even if he were willfully ignoring it. And he wants to do something to comfort her, feeling as close to Kuchiki Rukia as anyone, after all is said and done. But he doesn't deserve the right to offer her comfort, not after what he had done to her. Sincerely given or not, he doesn't deserve to make himself feel better by making her feel better.

When she comes back in, his lips part at her question. It's a minute before he begins forming the words of his answer. It's complicated, but complicated is familiar territory for either of them.

"The Quincies," he finally decides on starting with, "Were hiding themselves in Soul Society. They were in the Seireitei itself. A step to the side of the world, you might say, beyond the ability of most to sense them." Kisuke shrugs, reaching up to adjust the hat on his head. When he speaks again, he does so with honest regret, and without bragging, simply fairly confident of himself. "I regret that there was no way that I could be around to prevent their counter-attack before they made it. Though even then, we may not have been able to put up much of a fight. The odds are against us. The way that the powers of a Quincy function means that the idea of our winning from the beginning was beyond the ridiculous. But I have hope, Kuchiki-san."

He tilts his chin up, throwing light onto the wide smile in his eyes. "I'm working on it. And so is Kurosaki-san."

[unburden]

Though surely the situation has a great deal more nuance and gravity than Kisuke's words would on their own suggest, the elements of the situation are familiar. The Quincies and shinigami were embroiled in a long conflict that ended as it did due to the diametrically opposed approaches their had to the cycling of souls. The idea that some Quincies survived was already made clear with Uryuu and Ryuuen. The idea that there are even more Quincies than that, those who have carefully stowed away and bidden their time and listened with an ear to the wall of Seireitei, achingly familiar to Aizen's infiltration of the same.

Kisuke has given Rukia all that she needs to believe him, though to believe in him is another story entirely. Her gaze rises, slightly narrowed and suspicious, at the mention of Ichigo.

Of course Ichigo would work on saving Soul Society. Even in spite of the way he'd been treated over the years. The only detail that remains then is...

"Do you know if Ishida Uryuu-san is involved in the Quincy attack?" Rukia asks, quickly double-checking the state of the kettle.

[vivememorleti]

His gaze grows cooler when the subject is taken off of the pillar of Kurosaki Ichigo, a source of great fondness for Kisuke, and limitless pride. Talk of the war itself holds less appeal, but he can understand where Rukia is coming from, and why. He clears his throat.

"Ishida Uryuu-san, all of Kurotsuchi-san's intelligence suggests, has aligned himself with the Quincy, but he has not yet made a move, and we have no further intelligence. I should think that he is not working against us. though. I should think. I ... want to have faith that that's how his mind works, but I can't be certain of anything. That boy has too much of his father in him for that."

He lowers his gaze further, dark lashes fanning over dark eyes, as a tone of remorse fills his voice. "Yamamoto soutaichou-dono has fallen in battle. He was replaced by Kyouraku-san."

[unburden]

Somehow, the idea of Ishida working alongside the Quincy doesn't surprise Rukia. He'd always been so proud of his heritage, in what his powers were able to accomplish, in the philosophy and treatment of life that the Quincy had adopted. No matter how fond he might have become of his friends, Ishida exhibited a certain loyalty to the Quincy ways.

It was possible that he would reenter their ranks to try and find a resolution by his own terms. It was also possible that he never planned on forgiving Soul Society for what it did to his people.

Rukia glances down briefly at her feet, hating the fact that she can't even hazard a guess which it is, not without Ishida in front of them.

But she gets a greater surprise when Kisuke continues.

"Yamamoto soutaichou-dono," she repeats, tone breathless and low. Without realizing it, her hands grip at the fabric of her dress, squeezing tight. "Who else? Did we lose anyone else? I didn't realize... I didn't think that the Quincy were that strong."

[vivememorleti]

At length, Kisuke reaches up, removes his hat, holds it against hs chest solemnly. Yamamoto was one thing. The man had been great, but had also fully lived out to perform everything that he was able to in life. There had been deaths of those far younger in age, with far more they could have had left to accomplish with the time that they had. That moves Kisuke more than anything else about the tragedy.

"Kira Izuru-san," he says, conveying his condolence to Rukia with a reflective tenderness of voice, "Is also among those that were killed, but further officers have been confirmed dead. But there are many wounded, and communications are poor. Sadly, the Twelfth is in near as much chaos as the rest of Seireitei. But when I had left, I was in contact with Kurosaki-san. We were both en route to the front of the stage of war. He requested that I do whatever I can, until his arrival. And I have hope, Kuchiki-san. As I said. I am putting all of our hopes in him one more time."

[unburden]

She lets go of a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and the guilt comes immediately after, burning like a brand. Because her brother's name wasn't in the list. Because Renji's name wasn't in the list. Nor Ukitake-taichou. But the relief is brief as her heart aches at the mention of Kira, of all people. Kira, who had better intuitions about Ichimaru-taichou than any of the rest of them, who was tormented by the way things had ended thereafter, who so quickly fell into a heaviness that no one seemed capable of lifting him from.

He wielded it as his weapon, as he did Wabisuke.

"I am so sorry to hear of the losses," Rukia says, closing her eyes, intending for it to be brief, but unable to open them again just yet. "It seems that we're really making a habit of relying on Ichigo to come to our rescue, doesn't it?"

[vivememorleti]

"Is that such a bad thing?" he wonders, purposely aloud, though he leaves the question rhetorical. "Kurosaki-san is like his father. He is not someone who would ever be satisfied by sitting by when there was a sacrifice that he could make himself. Having us rely on him makes Kurosaki-san a better person," he finishes, slipping his hat carefully bck over his head and pressing it down.

He gives Rukia's bed a look. "I apologize for being the bringer of mixed tidings, Kuchiki-san. But I'm glad that I could be here with you."

[unburden]

I don't know, Rukia immediately thinks, although she knows better than to put it to words. In her heart of hearts, she agrees with Kisuke's assessment, the growth and change in Ichigo more evident with each passing day. And if anything, there's also a peace that she's seen smooth over his features at times. He's meant to be a hero. He's built to protect others.

Sometimes, she thinks that his name should be less of a reference to protecting one person, and instead alludes to how he's the one person to protect everyone.

Her chest aches.

After a pause, Rukia steps back, hopping onto the bed and folding her hands neatly on her lap, giving Kisuke an even look. Even if he didn't intend for it to be so, she's keeping his question rhetorical.

"What would you like to know about this city, Urahara-san?"

[vivememorleti]

That gets another laugh, a little self-deprecating in comparison to the first, and Kisuke leans forward to rest his arms over his knees, studying Rukia with a smile that pulls one side of his mouth more than the other.

Of course he wants to know absolutely everything about this place, but it's a poor way to go about a thing, moving from generals to specifics. Specifics are more useful.

"Is there anything you think I ought to know?"

[unburden]

He laughs. Of course he laughs, in that slightly aggravating and yet extraordinarily charming way of his, the one that makes it impossible for Rukia to decide exactly how much he knows and how much he's manipulating instead. Her cheeks flush, though almost imperceptibly, as she straightens her shoulders and prepares for a parry of wits that she hasn't been exposed to in quite some time.

A luxury that she only concedes to because... well, chances are, they're trapped for a while.

"Well, what do you know so far?" Rukia asks, volleying the conversation back to his side of the court. She doesn't get the impression that she was the first place he went, even if she was probably the first person he ended up seeking out.

[vivememorleti]

"I know that Kuchiki-san is here," he says, "And that Kurosaki-san was here. I know everything that was in that packet, what my telephone number is, what my apartment number is, and where to find it on my map. I know the number and nature of all of the interesting spirits that I can sense. I know it's November, and that it's eight years in the future from what I last remember. I know you'll let me in your window if I knock, and ... that you are a school student."

[unburden]

"And working at a children's toy store," Rukia adds with a small exhale, too contained to be much of a sigh. This does spare her the need to discuss what she normally does with new arrivals, and it actually takes Rukia some time before she's able to come up with anything that might seem relevant to him at all.

"I'm training one of the individuals you might have felt in your initial search. Okumura Rin, who was born of a human mother and demon father. I will be so rude as to ask that Urahara-san permit me to continue my training with him uninterrupted for the time being," she says, quickly bowing her head humbly. "Although I do think he could benefit soon from having a talk with you. I would also say that of the interesting spirits in Darrow, we are not the only ones who would require a gigai or some similar mechanism to interact with the population. There are other solutions used by some of the individuals here. In case you were interested."

[vivememorleti]

"Kuchiki-san," Urahara says, giving her a not at all sort of wave of his hands. "I've got no right to tell you who to train or deputize. Those are your decisions as a seated officer of the Gotei, and a shinigami, which I am neither. I'll keep my nose out of your business, at least, until you decide there is a right time for me to stop doing so." He bows his head slightly.

"But it is very good news to hear that there may be a market for my skills here. Especially if it happns to be a paying one." His smile spreads further across his face. "I don't think what this city's promised me on its own will pay nearly enough for me to have any fun money."

What 'fun' might be defined as, he doesn't volunteer.

[unburden]

Rukia stares while Kisuke offers his reassurance, feeling slightly condescended but trusting him for the most part. More than anything else, she supposes that there probably isn't a single person in Darrow who is half as interesting to Kisuke as Ichigo was, the product of generations' worth of meddling and testing on his end. A hero made almost entirely by Kisuke's hands.

Until his smile broadens.

"W-wait, oi," she says, sitting up straighter, hands fisting in her blankets. "I didn't say that you should go manufacturing and selling gigai; I only meant that if you wanted to learn from what other people use, if there's anything you don't have for yourself... Urahara-san, there are plenty of respectable jobs that you can find."

[vivememorleti]

"Kuchiki-san," Kisuke returns, voice deep with artificial offense as he raises a hand as if to stop her from taking the perceived insults any further. "You don't mean to suggest that my business isn't respectable, do you? I make a lot of perfectly useful products for the use of people with uniquely special needs. That's all."

He gives a glance toward the electric kettle. He isn't in a rush, but it would be nice to have something to occupy his hands and mouth in case he needs it. "All of which can be done out of the back of another, more respectable business, of course."

[unburden]

Rukia takes a deep breath, just in time for the kettle to start whistling. Getting to her feet, she busies herself quietly next to the desk. She shouldn't expect Kisuke to stop working simply because he's moved to another world; if anything, their unfamiliarity with the place means that he needs to be researching, regardless of whether or not their aim is to return home.

Turning to face Kisuke with a faint smile, Rukia nods politely. "I have matcha and Ceylon black tea. I think the latter suits your tastes more, if I recall," muses Rukia. "Shall I grab some milk and sugar?"

[vivememorleti]

"That sounds perfect, Kuchiki-san," Kisuke returns with an earnestly sweet smile, before lifting a leg up onto the chair with him to rest his chin on his knee, listening to the scratch of stubble against the soft fabric. He is about to speak up again, for better or worse, when he notices a third party enter the room. Quickly perking up, he points rudely at the small, strange animal. "Who's that?"

[unburden]

It hasn't been very long since Rukia first acquired the little jackalope that hops into the room. Even though all advice tells her to keep him contained in his cage, Rukia hates leaving him there for long, always letting him out whenever she's available in the apartment to give him more freedom to play and explore. Now she wonders if that was a mistake, carefully balancing teapot, milk, and sugar on her way back into the room.

"Oh, that's Beri-tan," she says, blushing up a storm at having him discovered. As well as his name. "He was a gift given to me some days ago. A jackalope, so I'm told."

[vivememorleti]

"Hoh, Beri-tan," Kisuke says, sliding out of his seat to his knees on the carpet of the bedroom floor, clearly pleased about the animal's presence. He's never seen anything like it before, which gives it more utility than almost anything else in the apartment right now.

"Does he bite?" he asks, but does not actually care, and picks the animal quickly up under its forelimbs and fluffy rear, examining it from the back end before giving it a bounce. "What a set of fine antlers you have."

[unburden]

"Be careful with him," Rukia pleads, quickly darting over to her desk to place down all of the items she's brought with her from the kitchen before darting across the room to close the window fully and tug the curtains shut. Breathing in deeply, she steps back to the whistling kettle, turning the heat off before dropping a fair few leaves into the teapot and pouring out the water to let the tea steep.

"He doesn't bite," she says, once the danger of boiling water has been tended to. "But he panics very easily. On the bright side for you, he can see all spirits, as far as I can tell."

[vivememorleti]

"I suppose that would be kind of disconcerting," Kisuke realizes, lowering the rabbit a little apologetically to rest it against his chest, easily tucked into the neckline of his robe. He hadn't actually thought of that until she'd brought it up.

"Not very used to the whole thing after all this time, after all," he admits. Before he'd headed to Hueco Mundo to do field research, and then straight to Soul Society, he'd had the need to step outside of his gigai ... precisely twice.

The last to deal with Aizen-san. He frowns.

[unburden]

"You essentially carved a life out for yourself in Karakura," Rukia says quietly, waiting for the tea to properly steep and sitting briefly on the foot of her bed, glancing over to watch as Kisuke tucks Beri into his robe, keeping him warm. "It's not surprising that you became used to that way of living. Among the living, with a living body..."

Her voice trails off briefly. It was a path that he'd sent her hurtling down once, even if that train stopped before the destination.

Sometimes she's tempted to ask if that was always part of her design, giving her life again.

"There are a lot of people who would be able to see you here even without a gigai," she adds, starting to pour the tea out into their cups, adding milk and sugar to Kisuke's, and only sugar into her own.

[vivememorleti]

It's a very honest conversation suddenly, the one he's having with Kuchiki-san, and he grows subdued, dropping himself lightly back into the chair he'd been in, with the rabbit and its antlers tucked very carefully against him yet. It's a very Kuchiki-san pet to have. Soft and prickly at the same time. Best to handle with care.

Though Kuchiki Rukia possesses far more grace and dignity than a rabbit; as expected of Kuchiki.

"It's a strange town," he observes. Strange like Karakura Town had been, and maybe for some of the same reasons, which is interesting. "But you know, I think it might be a decent town to make a life in. After all, it has the protection of one very responsible shinigami."

He holds a hand out for the tea, meeting her blue eyes.

[unburden]

As Rukia steps across the room with both mugs of tea in hand, her eyes stray to where the rabbit has already started to doze off against Kisuke's warmth. It's a peculiarity about the man, Rukia thinks, how he's able to put so many people at ease. Indeed, if not for the unique nature of everything between them, Rukia imagines that she would find it to be quite easy to trust Kisuke and his expertise. And even now, she still imagines his heart to be in the right place.

If not necessarily his eyes.

"Dozo," she murmurs as she hands the tea over, then retreats back to her bed, hopping easily onto the mattress with her feet not quite touching the floor. "Darrow is certainly not the worst city to live in, provided living simply is the goal. However much happens here, there's no question that the majority of people have been safe since us outsiders first arrived in Darrow two years ago. But it only has one active shinigami with a lot of ground to cover."

She takes a careful sip of her tea, gaze raised above the rim of the mug. "One that has not yet achieved bankai."

[vivememorleti]

"It truly is a shame that Kuchiki-san hasn't," he says slowly, uncertain whether or not she is asking for help, exactly. Taking a long sip of the tea, he burns the tip of his tongue. He should have waited. He wonders why it's always so difficult with food. With everything else, he has it down to an art and a science.

"After all, you're surely aware that you are well above the level of one of your seat. Is that something that you think you would like to pursue? I can guarantee results, if that's the case. Though I can't guarantee you will like them. But you know I ... don't think I can help you do your work. I don't know if I have the right to call myself by that name of shinigami anymore. That doesn't mean I would sit idly by were there a problem that needed what I can offer."

[unburden]

Rukia quietly makes her way through two more sips of the tea before she sits up again. She doesn't feel guilty for delaying her words; Kisuke can stand to deal with a bit of uncertainty now and again, she thinks.

"It's quite the luxury, isn't it, Urahara-san," she says softly, lowering her mug until it almost sits on her lap. "To be able to choose to respond to only the problems that require your unique solutions. The name of shinigami doesn't have the same meaning here. The responsibilities of a shinigami differ between here and home."

She closes her eyes. "But, regardless. I want to achieve bankai. Really."

[vivememorleti]

"I've failed," he says, "In nearly every responsibility that I'd had, you know. At this point, you probably know more than a little about that story, don't you? Are you sure you want to be goading a person like that into being an ally? He would be the definition of unreliable, after all."

He takes a deep breath before drinking more of what she'd offered him. It's sweet and silky, and not nearly a good enough distraction. "As soon as I get a chance to set up some facilities," he promises, the first earnest words since her last reply.

[unburden]

"Since when have past failures ever been a good reason to quit?" Rukia asks, not making excuses for Kisuke or suggesting that his oft self-imposed exile has been a fruitful one. "You've failed at nearly every responsibility that you had, but you've also been the only person capable of fixing them, Urahara-san. Not all people clean up after themselves."

Breathing in more of the hot steam, Rukia relaxes her shoulders at last, closing her eyes.

"He's not very much like you, you know," she says, taking a sip. "But that's why he needs you."

[vivememorleti]

"Kurosaki-san?" he asks, lifting his head in surprise from his cup to stare across at Rukia with a quizzical expression.

"I'm not a very pleasant person actually, you know," he says, "The moment that I walk into a situation." He lifts his free hand to tap a finger against his temple. "I start thinking of all of the ways it could go wrong. Kurosaki-san isn't capable of that. He's only capable of envisioning the outcome that he needs. He's that kind of person. That's his strength."

And also his weakness, as Rukia has pointed out. If that's the case, Kisuke is left wondering what his own missing piece is. Why he'd needed Kurosaki Ichigo so badly.