tampered | (no subject)

Current Mood: amused

(no subject)

when; The morning of February 5th.
rating; PG-13, just for safety's sake.
characters; Jyuu-chan and Kisuke (And Nemu, later on?)
summary; Breakfast of champions! .. Er. I mean. Kisuke doesn't know how to shop?
log;

He was really going to smack Kisuke with his spatula.

.. Normally, such a thought would have immediately been followed up by a vaguely concerned one about how domestic and strange that had sounded, but Jyuushirou was too exasperated to care at that particular moment. Kisuke had no idea how to shop for groceries--or rather, he did and just wanted to test and see if his friend really could create a meal out of anything.

He was tempted to throw a handful of hot peppers in the blonde's portion.

Dressed in a yukata and bare feet, sleeves tied back and hair a messy braid down his back, Jyuushirou looked vaguely sleepy and somewhat like a harried housewife with the half-apron tied around his waist. His height, thankfully, dispelled that image before it could take root, so he wasn't particularly worried about what he looked like.

Making a musing noise in his throat as he turned off the heat and set the skillet on another, cool burner, the white-haired man moved to pour water for them both. --Now to wait until Kisuke dragged himself out of bed. ..Or.. he could go wake him up, but that would be mean.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kisuke reclined idly in his bed, one hand behind his head and the other gripping the fan that waved lazily in his face. The smile on his face at the sound of Jyuushirou's cooking didn't fade one bit, even if the smell was rather... odd. Okay, perhaps he shouldn't have bought the trout.

Sighing amusedly, the ex-captain rolled over and out of bed, pulling on civilian clothes as was his habit of late - a long-sleeved shirt and slacks to combat the weather. Barefoot and bedheaded, Kisuke shuffled into the apartment's combined kitchen-living room area and took a seat at the dining table, setting his fan, now folded, to the side.

His smile widened. "Smells lovely, Jyuushirou! I see you're putting the pistachio nuts to good use."

"I'm going to kill you," came the entirely-too-calm response, and Jyuushirou spun to wield the spatula threateningly. "You are such a brat, Kisuke!" All the same, he was smiling, amused and relaxed around the other man. Kisuke had always been able to set him at ease; it was perhaps his easygoing and somewhat comical nature that did it. Or perhaps he just liked him, and that was enough.

Setting the spatula down, the older man slipped forward, setting the glass of water in front of the blonde and seating himself at the table. Bare feet were tucked under the chair, toes curling lightly against the cool floor. "It's a good thing that I've eaten stranger things is all I've got to say. You have no idea how to buy groceries." It was a little odd seeing Kisuke in anything other than his captain's haori, and even stranger to see him so early in the morning; Jyuushirou couldn't help but stare a little. --This was something he'd have to get used to, after all. Gods, but he hadn't shared quarters with anyone in well over a dozen centuries.

"You have bed-hair," he proclaimed at last, as if declaring the meaning to life, and reached over to smooth it down without thinking about it.

Jyuushirou's death threat was met with a wider grin. "I just haven't bought groceries in so long," was the blithe reply. "Ururu always went out for them, and she's a fabulous cook too, so I never had to worry." He tilted his head at the odd mix frying on the stove, and he found himself trying to distinguish the different ingredients through their scents. "I'm sure I don't have to worry about food poisoning today, Jyuushirou?"

Kisuke chuckled at his friend's quite astute observation and attempt to tame the rebellious blond locks. Such mess was usually hidden and smoothed by his hat, but with his trademark clothes tucked away in a closet, the ex-captain just had to deal with it. "You're such a mother, Jyuushirou," he remarked, letting the other man fuss as he sipped from the glass of water. "I'm quite lucky to have you as a roommate, hmm?"

Blushing at the accusation, Jyuushirou cleared his throat and sipped from his own glass to hide his embarrassment. "I raised my brothers and sisters," he mumbled once he felt he'd controlled the blood rushing to his face. "Old habits are hard to break, I guess." And anyway, Kisuke made it easy to want to take care of him. It wasn't that he was helpless or anything like that; there was just.. a sort of careless, almost clueless innocence he tended to show. And while Jyuushirou knew better than most that it was just an act, it was still refreshing. Most Shinigami he knew were too serious for their own good.

Maybe that was why they got on so well. He enjoyed being around Kisuke. He'd missed him a lot.

"You certainly are!" he exclaimed belatedly, blinking once he realised he'd spaced out. "I'm possibly the best roommate in all of existence! --Nevermind the constant coughing and frequent bed rest." He joked about himself a lot; having lived as long as he had, he had little pride left when it came to his illness. If he'd taken himself, or it, too seriously, he'd have probably worried himself into a grave by then.

He hesitated, then, expression softening into something fond and a little nostalgic. "It's nice to see your face again, at least. I don't like your hat."

Kisuke's wide grin eased into a contented smile, though he did let an amused noise out of his throat at Jyuushirou's blush. "You haven't seen my face in a hundred years," he commented idly, taking another sip. "It's nice with or without my hat." He reached up to pat his own head. "It feels strange, though, without it."

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, the blond man let his gaze wander a little to the floor. It really had been one hundred years, hadn't it? That was a trivial amount in the lives of shinigami, especially ones as old as him and Jyuushirou, but after being isolated from his people for that long, it was odd seeing a familiar face.

"Don't worry about your health," Kisuke said after a moment, looking back up at his friend. "If there's one thing I can do as a roommate, it's making sure there's always hot herbal tea for you in case it happens."

Ah, if only that were said on the computer. He'd add a heart to the end of that.

He would have said something joking to the effect of Kisuke having no idea what Jyuushirou thought of his face, but then the other man was going on, and his blush returned. Thankfully, though, it was only slight, and could have been mistaken for a touch of fever if it wasn't questioned too closely. "--Oh," he said weakly, toying with his glass and offering a faint, oddly-flattered smile, "it's all right. I usually manage fairly well.. And Unohana-taichou is here for the really bad days. I'm very lucky in that respect." He hardly wanted Kisuke to see him on the days that he was hurting so badly he couldn't smile. Those were the worst.

Somehow, though, Jyuushirou didn't think it would bother him.

Embarrassed by that thought, he rose abruptly to his feet and padded back to the stove, taking down dishes and filling plates for them both. (Though he'd tried to keep it simple for himself, at least; he didn't think he was really up to anything very complicated at the moment.) Pale feet carried him back to the table, where he set the other man's breakfast in front of him and settled again, untying his sleeves with an absent gesture.

"I've thought about retiring, you know," he added after a moment, mouth quirking, fingers untangling his braid. "I've not given it too much thought yet, really, but I'm beginning to see that it may be necessary."

The odd smell of the prepared food didn't stop Kisuke from eagerly picking up his fork to attack his breakfast. Mmm. Trout wasn't so bad. Good thing he'd decided to pick up rice anyway, to balance out the odd combination of fish, peppers, nuts, and chocolate. Among other things. "I'm glad many of us are here - glad that I can see you all again. Still," the ex-captain said before he dared to test the concoction, "I'd rather we were all back home."

He dared. In went the food, the fork, and Kisuke braced himself for a gag reflex that never came. Thoroughly but pleasantly shocked, he chewed slowly, pondering the flavor before swallowing. Odd. But not bad! He should purposefully buy the strangest food items again, for another experiment.

"Jyuushirou," he said, beaming, "you are a marvelous, outstanding, top-of-the-line cook. If you were a woman, I would ask you to marry me."

For a moment, it was all Jyuushirou could do to simply blink as he tried to process that. But then he was blushing again, bursting into hoarse, startled-sounding laughter. "Thank gods I'm not, then!" he managed as he began to calm down, both hands against his burning face. "I'll bet you're as bad as Shunsui with women!" Batting his lashes dramatically, he blew the other man an exaggerated kiss. "Though you know I'd say yes just for your sense of humour."

He'd laughed more in the past two days than he had in ages. It was completely ridiculous. He hadn't realised how utterly unhappy he'd been before.

Maybe it was time to retire. Huh. Funny thought, that.

"When we get back home, if I do retire, I hope you know that I'm coming to live with you. And then you can introduce me to the modern human world. After this business with the Arrancar is taken care of, I mean."

Laughter was the only thing in the room for quite some time, Kisuke at his own joke and at Jyuushirou's shock, the food momentarily forgotten in their mirth. "No, no," said the twelfth's ex-captain as the laughter faded, "I think Shunsui is far worse than I am. I'm out of practice, being busy with my shop, training humans, indirectly saving the world... you know, the usual."

He took a sip of water and another forkful of the alien breakfast. It wasn't so bad the second time around. Maybe he'd request an encore within the next week. It was better than any of his own cooking, to be sure.

"I think I would like it if you lived with us when you retire." He downed the rest of his glass. "I've missed you. And everyone. It gets a little lonely when the only old friend is Yoruichi, and she's not a permanent resident."

Smile turning fond, Jyuushirou rested his chin in his palm, eyes curving slightly in pleasure at the response. "I'd enjoy it, I think. As long as Shunsui came to visit, I mean." Shunsui, after all, had been his best friend since their academy days. Kisuke.. well, Kisuke was something different. A good friend, certainly, but he and Shunsui were on different planes entirely, in Jyuushirou's mind. One couldn't really compare them.

"Yoruichi-san comes and goes, then? Even now?" Ukitake, unlike most people, still remembered Yoruichi as the great lady of the Shihouin family. As such, he tended to refer to her in respectful terms. He generally deferred in such a manner to all nobility; it was a habit from his youth that he'd never been able to break. "How are things between she and Soifon?"

"Well, no one's come to visit me in a hundred years - ah, but I guess that's expected. I don't see why Shunsui couldn't visit you, in any case." Kisuke talked about his exile as if it was the most common thing in the world - and it was - but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. It had done exactly what it was meant to do; that is, completely isolate him. Even the magic of gates repelled his touch.

Kisuke's smile faltered for a split-second at the mention of his best friend and her lover, but it was quickly replaced with an easy grin. He was too good at lying through his expression, even without his hat and fan. "They seem quite attached to each other. Soifon-taichou's very content to be on such terms with her goddess, though she is rather awkward sometimes. It's cute." He took a bite of breakfast. "Yoruichi, on the other hand..." He paused. "She's worried about Soifon-taichou, but I keep telling her that if it makes them both happy, she shouldn't worry."

He left out the "about me" from the end of his sentence.

Unfortunately for Kisuke, Jyuushirou was not only entirely too old not to notice such things, but he was also intensely empathetic. He understood people, and he understood his friends even better. So when the other man spoke, Jyuushirou was watching him, brows drawn together and teeth digging into his lower lip.

"You know," he said after a moment, reaching over to lightly squeeze one of the younger man's hands, "I think you'd fool anyone else with that. This has hurt you, hasn't it?"

This, perhaps, had hurt him even more than the exile had. --An exile that Jyuushirou had despised. But he didn't know what to think of Kisuke's situation with Yoruichi-san. It was obvious that he cared for her.. but she felt for Soifon. Jyuushirou would have preferred for everyone to have a happy ending.

Nemu did not sleep much. And she did so much sleep as shut down, eyes still half open, if she wished, and aware of her surroudings. A good survival instinct programmed into her since creation. And she had been fretting all morning, unsure of what to do. She was attending breakfast with two superiors. What did one wear? She settled on her usual uniform, vice captain's badge nestled comfortably in it's usual spot. What did one bring? She had said she would bring a housewarming gift, she's discovered a talent at baking, if only because she was good with directions... but were cookies appropriate for breakfast? Should she bring something else? What could she do?

It had taken her three hours to work up the courage and wait an appropriate allowance of time for 'breakfast'. And it took her that long to realize that perahaps, she was nervous. Urahara Kisuke had been the captain of her division, and all her relatively short life she had allowed herself the small pleasure of listening to the others when they told stories of the old captain. Even Ukitake Jyuushirou had stories told of him, and she had never been allowed much contact with anyone but Mayuri-sama, her division, and the small time allowed her for vice-captain's meetings and the SWA. ... Nervous. Perhaps.. that was it.

It was tentatively, eyes cast downward, that Nemu knocked softly on the door to the apartment, standing stock still with a cloth draped plate in her hands. ... She hoped she did not make a fool of herself...

Kisuke had been in the middle of replying, mouth open and brain gears turning rapidly to come up with some lie, when a knock at the door saved him the trouble. As he extricated his one hand from Jyuushirou's, the other snatched up his fan and promptly unfolded it, wishing he had his hat to accompany the defense technique.

"Jyuushirou," the ex-captain said cheerily, whole face hidden, "I think I'll go answer that."

The man bolted out of his chair, haphazardly tucking the fan into his back pocket as he scrambled for the door. He took a moment to dust himself off and remove all traces of his very sudden display of embarrassment, then opened the door. The face that greeted him on the other side was a welcome sight.

"Ah! Kurotsuchi-fukutaichou, how good it is to see you." He held the door open wide to allow her entry. "Do come in!"

This was perhaps the first time (or maybe the second) that Ukitake actually resented hearing that knock. But then he remembered who it was who was supposed to visit, and rose to his feet, padding to the door to lean around Kisuke's shoulder and smile at Nemu. "Nemu-san!" he exclaimed happily, bustling her in and closing the door behind her. "It's good to see you! --I see you brought the cookies? --You can set them on the counter, if you like; Kisuke-kun was just trying out what I made of his grocery disaster---" He chattered to set people at ease; it made some Shinigami uncomfortable to be in the presence of a captain, so he'd set about making them feel at ease some time ago.

It was a habit that had endured.

He was setting out extra dishes by the time the other two had made it into the kitchen, checking to make sure the food hadn't gotten cold while he and Kisuke had talked.

The creation barely had enough time to bow deeply, murmuring a quiet and respectful greeting to the man who had once led her division before the 13th squad captain caught her off guard. She was not used to be greeted so cheerfully by her superiors, or rather, her true superior. And she certainly wasn't used to being bustled anywhere. She froze up, allowing him to lead her, but she stopped movement immediately when he left her side, pausing, before placing the plate on the counter as she had been told. But she did not move from that spot, waiting for permission to be seated or told what to do.

"I am honored to be invited, this morning." She finally spoke, voice low and level. "I hope I am not an inconvenience."

Smiling behind his fan again, the ex-captain watched as his old friend busied around the kitchen like a housewife, chatting like a squirrel fed too many sugared nuts. "Jyuushirou," Kisuke said blithely, "I actually think this breakfast experiment was a success. I hope you're up to another one with different ingredients some time later this week."

Noting Nemu's stiffness, he then turned to her, leaning over to peek at her expression - or lack thereof. "Kurotsuchi-fukutaichou, there are four chairs at the table. Relax while in our home. We're not going to bite your head off." Again, he would have affixed a heart to the end of that, if he could.

He sat down at his place and lifted the cloth from the plate she'd brought. A delighted outcry of "Cookies!" was the only thing to escape his lips before his other hand snapped out to grab one.

Rolling his eyes at both the thought of another experiment and Kisuke's (rather cute) childish response to the cookies, Jyuushirou smiled to himself and shook his head, pouring water for Nemu. He moved to set it down on the table, passing by Kisuke on the way and reaching around the other man to snatch a cookie for himself.

"You can relax, Nemu-san," he encouraged, smiling gently. "I promise that neither of us is particularly intimidating this early in the morning." After a few moments, he set a plate at her seat and resettled gracefully in his chair. "Kisuke and I were just discussing how funny it is that so many of us are here." A lie, of course, but one he would gladly tell to keep Kisuke's secrets for him. --He'd broach the real subject later, when they were alone again.

Urahara's reaction to her baking caught her surprised as well, and she had to blink several times before speaking.

"Lemon." She simply said, looking to the table and hesitantly taking a seat, accepting the glass of water and plate of food from the white-haired captain with a small dip of her head and a quiet murmuer of thanks. The vice captain eyed the food in front of her carefully for a moment, unsure of what in the world the former 12th captain had been doing when he was shopping for food. But no matter, she had meant what she's said when she had mentioned being able to stomach most anything. So she lefted food to mouth slowly, chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed, no expression on her face. But at the mention of their former topic, or, the one presented her, a small flicker of emotion passed over her face before she managed to quash it.

"Yes... there are many." She finally said, tentative. "... Do you think..." She spoke carefully, as if weighing every word. "... More will come?" But it was one in particular she was worried about.

Original breakfast forgotten, with cookie dangling precariously from his lips, Kisuke looked over at Nemu with raised eyebrows. "More?" he tried to say around the cookie, though the failure was too evident as the treat slipped from his mouth. He caught it before it could fall to the tabletop. "More, Kurotsuchi-fukutaichou?" he asked again. "I don't think it would be a good idea if it happened, considering you still need forces in Seireitei. Not all of the arrancar are here, after all."

He bit into the lemon cookie, pleased that it was something remotely normal compared to Jyuushirou's homecooked meal.

Stealing the other man's fan to lightly whack him with it for his bad table manners, Jyuushirou returned his attention to Nemu to make a soft, vaguely worried noise. "Kurotsuchi-taichou may or may not end up here. Is that something you want?"

Perhaps she did really want him there. He was, in all technicality, her father, after all. And he did tend to control all aspects of her life. He couldn't imagine what it was like to be cut off from one's source of direction.

It just seemed so sad. She was a lovely young lady, after all, and she certainly deserved better than what she was put through.

"I-" Nemu abruptly shut her mouth, not having meant to bring such attention to her own problems or wants. That must seem so rude... and to say such a thing, even if it were the truth? ... Was it her place? Would they tell her creator, her father? Her eyes darted between the two captains, one present one former, a sudden look reflected in them that reminded of a cornered animal. Would they tell? ... Maybe... they wouldn't...

"I would not like that, no, sir." Nemu finally answered, her gaze dropping to her food and the hands folded tightly in her lap.

Another bite of the cookie. Chew and swallow.

Kisuke had expected this. As former captain of the twelfth division, he'd watched Mayuri grow and excel as a shinigami worthy of a seat, even vice-captaincy. But as a captain? No, not if he could help it. Mayuri was ruthless to the point of cruelty, and that was not the way to lead a team. Kisuke didn't want to think about what barbaric experiments Nemu had been forced to endure at the hands of her "father."

"What would you do if Kurotsuchi-taichou arrived?" the blond asked at last, finishing his after-breakfast treat in two more bites.

Honestly, Ukitake didn't know Kurotsuchi-taichou that well. After Kisuke had been exiled, he'd rather avoided the man as much as possible; he hadn't wanted anyone to know how disgusted he was with the arrangement. After all, if Jyuushirou was known for anything, it was his mild personality and indomitable cheerfulness.

Around Mayuri, he had a very hard time being nice. He just didn't like him, and he didn't like his experiments, and he didn't like his research, and he hated what he'd done to the Quincy and to Nemu.

There was necessary and then there was excessive. Kurotsuchi-taichou's work went so far past the bounds of 'excessive' that he had a feeling there should be a new word completely for it.

"You know that you have a place here," he finally said, voice soft and concerned. "And you have a place in my division. He may have created you, but you're a person, Nemu-san. I'm certain that all of the other captains would support your decision if you chose to request a transfer."

He knew that it was probably useless to tell her this, but.. perhaps. Perhaps, having had freedom here, she might choose to leave twelfth division.

Nemu's gaze darted nervously, looking between the two continuously. Her hands, folded, tightened on each other, the grip turning her knuckles white.

"You won't... tell Mayuri-sama what I say?" She asked softly, but she had a feeling that she could speak freely, without fear of reprisal.

"... I would be upset... if Mayuri-sama came here. His brilliance is best used to serve Soul Society..." That part sounded rehearsed, hollow. "... But also because he would be upset with me, I have acted most improperly here in The City. ... And I know if he came here..." Her gaze fell once more, down to her food, though she made no move to eat. "... I could not defy him." She didn't need to mention why.

Kisuke sat back in his chair, his face complete seriousness; he'd even set the cookie on the rim of his plate to eat for later. Though he did not know Nemu's relationship with her creator as well as the others did, but from what she'd said, it was not the most ideal father-daughter relationship, but master-slave.

The twelfth's ex-captain raised his gaze at Jyuushirou at his suggestion for Nemu to transfer divisions. It was possible, yes, but Urahara doubted that Mayuri would allow it. He turned his eyes back to Nemu and observed her anxiety and fright.

"I think," he said evenly, "that we'll address that issue if Kurotsuchi-taichou really does make it here. Personally, I don't believe you've been improper at all, you've just grown as a person without the limits placed by your captain. Nothing should stop you from growing."

Smiling suddenly, he reached out and reassuringly patted the woman's shoulder.

Smiling rather foolishly at Kisuke's words, unable to quite help the abrupt and unexpected surge of warmth, Jyuushirou ducked his head to hide it. There were times.. there were really times that Jyuushirou could understand why he liked the other man so much. Underneath all that light-hearted joking and foppishness, Kisuke was still captain of the twelfth division.

Powerful. Kind. A warrior that few would willingly go against. Brilliant enough to frighten.

Resting his chin on his palm, Jyuushirou's lips quirked. "He's right, Nemu-san. You were created with free will; perhaps this isn't what Kurotsuchi-san had in mind when he made you, but it doesn't change that you have it."

Nemu dipped her head, at a loss for words. She had not... she did not expect such warmth, such acceptance from captains, from her superiors. A light blush suffused her cheeks, unsure of what to say. Under Urahara's hand she had almost shied away, but gathered the courage not to move away from physical contact.

"I have... learned..." The creation finally spoke. "... many things, here. That... I can do things... I can... she's even spoken to me, a few times..." The vice referred to her zanpakutou warily, knowing neither captain would be aware that she had not spoken to her before. "... and I have learned that I am capable of emotion, even though Mayuri-sama told me I was not... that I can be happy, and love..." She smiled softly, not something sad, for once. "And I am grateful, to all the shinigami, for being so kind to me."

Despite all he knew, it came as a surprise to Kisuke that Nemu, as a vice captain, had not spoken to her zanpakutou prior to her arrival in the City. He reminded himself to ask her about it later - about her progress, of course; he didn't wish to remind her about days in Seireitei when the blade was silent - and instead nodded his head approvingly.

He was reminded of his own "children," still small, still growing, but quickly evolving into much more than simple machines. And then he realized how similar and different he and Mayuri were. He wondered briefly how his employees were doing back in their world.

"As far as I'm concerned, Kurotsuchi-fukutaichou," the blond commented, standing to deposit his half-eaten breakfast elsewhere, "you can keep on changing and learning."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only