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.

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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."

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