tampered | log; ongoing;

log; ongoing;

When; Thursday evening.
Rating; PG-13?
Characters; Hitsugaya Toushirou [

boobheight]; Urahara Kisuke [

vivememorleti]
Summary; Not quite polar opposites, the two men from different worlds meet over milk and mochi.
Log;

The way Toushirou saw it, happiness was an emotion that he could not afford to feel to great lengths in the City. There were some people who could multitask at emotion-- in fact, it was one of Matsumoto's strengths, able to keep up with the Gotei while still obsessing over... whatever had overcome her for the day, whether a desire to nap, smother, or drink. To Toushirou, it always felt as though he was diverging attention, energy, focus-- dangerous things to lose within the City, particularly when he'd taken it upon his shoulders to provide and protect others at the expense of his own relaxation, perhaps. How timely it was, then, that so soon after he'd practically been guaranteed a position on the police force, he had managed to secure a time and place for a meeting with Urahara Kisuke.

Dread was a quick and easy way to cut off a sense of accomplishment, after all.

Not the type of dread that one got when facing unpleasantries, although Urahara Kisuke was far from a pleasant man. Instead, the type of dread that came with uncertainty, with an almost complete inability on Toushirou's part to determine Kisuke's intentions or his history, both of which were fairly crucial if the two were to be working together in any capacity. There was no doubt in Toushirou's mind that he wanted Kisuke on their side.

But how much involvement, how much trust he was willing to bet. Uncertainties, see?

Toushirou waited outside the front doors of the shop, knowing that Kisuke had probably long since sensed his reiatsu.

Don't keep me waiting, Urahara Kisuke.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kisuke hadn't expected Hitsugaya Toushirou to come as quickly as he had-- he'd expected no small amount of hesitance from the small captain. He had met Hitsugaya before himself and had always gotten the feeling the boy wanted to trade words with him, but back where they belonged, Hitsugaya had never had the chance to approach him. Something about the boy's reaction toward him gave Kisuke the feeling he was an earlier Hitsugaya than the one he was familiar with.

One he hadn't rescued and one who hadn't bored holes in his back under his own home.

Either way, he'd thought he'd have more time, and had gone to the grocery store to pick up some milk and some butter and some other things in perhaps greater quantities than he really needed to feed one. It was a force of habit, shopping for four, habit like the pipe resting on his lower lip.

He didn't put the pipe out when he called to Hitsugaya, digging in his deep pants pocket for his housekeys; three keys for three separate locks.

"Haven't you ever heard of being fashionably late like the rest of the world, Hitsugaya-san?"

There had been many reasons why Toushirou had avoided staying at Kisuke's shop, during the time when he made his own visit to the living world. And many reasons why he'd felt that having Renji stay there was perhaps a good choice-- those who were slower, they attracted less interest and more pity, it seemed. And, had the pair of them remained in their world, away from the City, Toushirou had absolutely no doubt that the trend would have continued. With no reason to visit, with others who were more intimately acquainted with Kisuke and willing to work, what did it really matter if Toushirou met the man? Both of them always had more than enough on their plates anyway, Toushirou imagined.

But the City was different. It put the two sides of the war in such a stagnant position that there was no need to bother with those on the middle line-- they weren't tipping anything, and so persuading them to join a side had very marginal benefits at best.

At least, that was the impression. And perhaps some of the reasons for why none of Toushirou's colleagues seemed willing to converse with Kisuke.

If anything, however, inaction was worthy of faulting.

"Matsumoto is more than fashionable enough for the both of us," Toushirou replied, not in any hurry to get inside, and waiting patiently for Kisuke to unlock the door. "If you'd wanted more time, you could have asked. I would not want to take advantage of hospitality."

He moved in front of the door to his shop without saying anything, bodily moving Hitsugaya aside without actually touching him, letting the boy know very well who's territory they were on, who was the more comfortable and the more casual. He bit the pipe between his lips and stared over his shoulder, slowly unlocking the door a lock at a time; one, he paused before unlocking the second.

"Then help me with this," he said, smoke curling from his nose as he shoved the bag of groceries in Hitsugaya's direction. It was all more of a test than anything else, judging the other shinigami's temper and his patience, getting a better sense of who he was really dealing with.

"Do you really know what you're getting into, dealing with me? Did they ever tell any of you what I did with Kuchiki-san?"

The man was impossible in a way that distinctly reminded Toushirou of the sixth division captain, acting as though he had a right to this upper-hand, whether this belief drew from the fact that Toushirou was indeed on Kisuke's soil--a right to property, how quaint--or due to the fact that Kisuke was very much the senior, between them, in age and experience, if not in rank.

Years of having Rangiku's bosom pressed against the back of his head, years of having Byakuya dismiss him with a single word-- being moved to the side and being asked to hold groceries, this was nothing.

It also did nothing to help Toushirou's opinion of the man, of course.

Calmly, Toushirou held the bag in his arms, taking care not to peek inside.

"You might be surprised how much word gets around in Seireitei-- but I doubt. As for what I'm getting into, I never promised a concrete deal. We shall see, soon, without distractions."

He slid the pipe from his mouth and tapped it against the side of the building before finishing with the locks, the small clump of burning shredded tobacco falling into a large clay flowerpot full of sand, clearly kept as an excuse for frequent work-breaks. The pipe disappeared up the sleeve of the man's haori a second later, fingers working at the locks again before the last one clicked home and he slid the heavy western door to the storefront open. The bell on it tinkled slightly.

"Careful, break my eggs and you pay for new ones, Hitsugaya-san," he muttered, voice slightly warmer than it had been at first. He stepped out of the large wooden geta he wore one at a time, leaving them outside as he entered. They would be the only ones there, after all.

It still disturbed Kisuke slightly that nobody was there to leave the lights on for him to get back from the store without tripping over himself.

"Surprised is hardly the word I would use. Either way, come in and make yourself comfortable. Go upstairs and have a seat while I put these things away. And don't touch anything expensive."

Edited 2008-06-27 08:41 (UTC)

"I wouldn't dream of it," Toushirou replied icily. No need for verbosity, yet.

It was often best to entertain the whims of men in high positions of power, from what Toushirou could gather, and even more so with men who had fallen from said power. Either way, it was a small expense on his part, and so Toushirou obligingly went up the stairs, leaving the lights conveniently off-- the less he had to see, the less he had to suspect, and the stronger any potential partnership would be. Clarity would come in time, would come with necessity.

Asking Toushirou to be comfortable in such a place, well. Not very likely, he had to admit.

Unsure of which room he was meant to enter, Toushirou leaned against a nearby wall, pondering Kisuke's earlier words. Wondering what advice the man had for him, today.

He spared a look over his shoulder as Hitsugaya disappeared up the stairs, moving downstairs himself to put away the staples he'd bought and retrieve some cold milk, and the japanese pastries he'd promised. Food was good to fill in awkward silences in conversations, especially the sort of conversations he planned on having.

He could hear the ticking grow weaker as he headed upstairs, lingering back where people weren't, like the smoke smell in his hair.

Kisuke switched the lights on as he went, throwing the stairwell and the second floor into light. The other shinigami may as well know there was nothing to keep hidden in the shop. Kisuke spent nine to ten hours in it daily, and he was more than smart enough not to piss where he ate or leave anything incriminating around. Lesson hard-learned, perhaps.

Hitsugaya was still waiting for him in the hallway, so he walked past the boy and opened the nearby room. It was meant for people like Hitsugaya-- outfitted like any room in Seireitei, not like the rest of the 'new' shop he worked out of. He wondered how telling this fact would be as he reached in and flipped the last light-switch.

"I thought I told you to make yourself comfortable, Hitsugaya-san. Don't stand on ceremony around me."

Don't flatter yourself, Toushirou was almost tempted to say, the idea of paying Kisuke so much respect almost enough to make him roll his eyes. But he followed, and he eyed his surroundings all the while-- why turn down such a kind invitation, after all? An eyebrow quirked at the room, and unconsciously, Toushirou's shoulders began to relax. Familiarity was all too scarce in the City.

"Time, however, is something we don't have in excess." Toushirou's eyes followed the lines of the room, cutting across the white, the same color that had been ever-present in Toushirou's dreams, as a child. Muted, yet sharp. "Far from being comfortable, breaking the ice quickly might be prudent."

"Time lasts until it runs out, like anything else." The food he dropped on the table, and the jug of milk, and himself he dropped just as messily into a pile on the floor on the other side of Hitsugaya. He folded his legs together, slumping over the table with his elbows resting on it, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Get something to eat. Enjoy the hospitality while it's free. Break the ice if that's how you think the conversation should go. It's not fair if you know more about me coming into this."

Before Toushirou had a chance to reply, he was interrupted by the other man unceremoniously dumping his share of generosity on the table, breaking enough rules of etiquette to either make Rangiku proud, or Byakuya turn in his sleep, take your pick. If Toushirou followed suit, it was only in sitting now, neatly folding his legs beneath him and blinking away surprise long enough to avert his gaze.

Whatever. He wasn't here for the food, anyway.

"I don't think there's any chance of me knowing more about you coming into this conversation," Toushirou replied absently. "And with a man like you, I don't think I'm quite sure what would manage to break the ice, either."

But he'd try.

"You said you had things to tell me about Aizen."

After a long moment, he leaned forward to take two glasses out of the bag on the table and set them upright and then shut the blinds on the large, low window with a snap. He nodded at the little balls of mochi on the table, filled with an, and he went to get the cap off of the milk and finally decided to use all of the tools at his disposal, working at the ring of plastic with his teeth.

It was being stubborn, but Kisuke was far from embarassed. He talked as the ring finally came loose, spitting it out in his lip.

"Well enough that you don't Kuchiki-san would have been smarter to avoid me if they'd have told you much about anything worth knowing down there. Help yourself and don't choke if I say anything too interesting."

He paused for a second, moving hesitantly to fill Hitsugaya's glass before speaking again.

"Aizen-san was a younger colleague of mine. He tried to play me for a fool twice now-- and actually, there was nothing 'playing' about it."

It was a little strange, watching a grown man rip off a strip of plastic with his teeth, when Toushirou was more than sure that his fingers--or, if it really was that stubborn, his kidou--would have sufficed. But, having been all too familiar with using his teeth when it came to his own sweet tooth and a pile of melons, Toushirou was loath to complain. Besides, harmless things like these, they gave a man character.

Admittedly, perhaps Kisuke had almost an excess of it.

Toushirou closed his fingers around the glass, enjoying its brisk, smooth feel as the air around condensed, drops sliding down until they met with his skin. He was almost tempted to actually take a drink--Momo used to give him milk daily, and ever since the incident with Aizen, Toushirou had been avoiding the drink, on some level--before, as everything else about him did, Kisuke's words held him back.

"Twice?"

So, someone had known about Aizen's treachery before the latest betrayal. Then, why...?

"And you didn't stop him. Didn't want to stop him?"

"If you're not going to drink that, don't waste it and give it here. I'm not offering it to you for my health," he said, regarding the untouched glass in front of the Gotei captain as he snatched a few of the pastries, dropping them on his plate. One stayed in his hand, pressed against his lower lip as Kisuke paused and considered from below the brim of his hat what the most appropriate, or maybe least appropriate, answer to give was.

Kisuke needed to resist the obvious snappish response, throwing Hitsugaya's last words, incriminating, back in his face. Want was hardly a word that belonged in a situation like Aizen Sousuke. The boy's expression looked as honestly shrewd as ever. He had an intelligent sort of look in his blue eyes, but completely guileless. Kisuke was well enough aware that it was diplomatic enough that he was even talking to Kisuke.

"Stop him, Hitsugaya-san? If the most honest person in existence would have come to you, just a year ago, and told you that Aizen Sousuke was a traitor?"

"I'm no Kuchiki Byakuya," Toushirou replied coolly, before taking a small sip of the milk, still watching Kisuke closely. Having learned well from Momo's relentless teasing, he ran his tongue over his lips, to avoid leaving behind a rather premature mustache to match his hair. Attempts at propriety that were anything but. "And you, Urahara-san, aren't exactly the most honest person in existence. Or were you?"

Hesitantly, he reached for one of the mochi, eyes growing softer as they took in the pale color, thoughts blurred.

"Because if you're going to claim to me that you were the most honest person, I'd say that you were fooling people just as much as Aizen did. Perhaps with better intentions.

"But that's a cliche, and I'd rather not go there. Stopping... Aizen now, that's more important."

"I've noticed."

Kisuke paused before continuing the discussion, finally eating the food he was holding, chewing thoughfully, although his mind was clearly not on the taste. He took just enough time eating to make it very clear that he thought his time was more important than Hitsugaya's, but when he spoke, his mouth was still full. He wanted to get the thoughts out before they fled.

Hitsugaya wiped at his face-- still very much a boy. Kisuke muttered.

"I'm telling you that there was shit I could do about anything. Because of my own idiocy, my word was as good as dirt when it could reach anyone worthwhile, and it's been over a hundred years since they could even hear it. I can't do anything without people like you to use as a mouthpiece."

Selfish. The man was clearly selfish, and while Toushirou had already gotten quite a few hints of it in his earlier conversations with Kisuke, coming face to face with the man brought much more of it to the light than Toushirou was comfortable seeing. What did separate Kisuke from Aizen, anyway? He'd heard the rumors of what Kisuke had done to Kuchiki Rukia--and while Kuchiki Rukia was far from Toushirou's top priority, Toushirou never was fond of such a blatant disregard for the welfare of people on the whole. Kuchiki Byakuya, while flawed, at least had this much to his name.

Kisuke's idiocy, Kisuke's word, but Toushirou was hardly clamoring to be Kisuke's mouthpiece.

"Your own idiocy, you say, and yet somehow you hope to find a mouthpiece?" Toushirou asked incredulously, not even able to focus on the mochi that was in his hand, his own personal stress ball that left smudges of chalky sugar on his palm. "While I'd prefer not to argue the minutia, I do believe that I have a little more agency than a mere mouthpiece, and that I do in fact have the capability of making a choice about whether or not I want to be used.

"I still don't even truly know the man who's offering. What he did in this past to make an example of his idiocy. What he did to taint his name and credibility. Or, I suppose, what Aizen did too."

Hitsugaya was feeding him the indignant reply he had expected, and suddenly Kisuke felt as if the mochi was a bad idea. It was sticking to the roof of his mouth, the consistency irritating and distracting, too thick when it went down his throat. Cloying.

He swallowed, hard, before speaking again.

"The problem with a smart man, Hitsugaya-san, is that you can't tell him a damn thing that's good for him. He's smart, he doesn't have to listen. I should have acted more seriously. I should have stood straight and not snuck around at night getting things done. I shouldn't have said, 'keep this between the two of us.' Idiocy."

Things that were hard to swallow-- the mochi was only one; the flaws of a man's own character were another. Still, he and Aizen Sousuke could reach one another here. They weren't separated by uncomfortable physical barriers. Kisuke was even more desperate in this place than he had been when he'd used Kuchiki Rukia, and Kurosaki Ichigo.

But Hitsugaya was more shrewd than Kurosaki, and not as sentimental as Kuchiki. He wanted the truth, and wasn't ignorant to Kisuke's dodging it.

"Hitsugaya-san, if I had ever taken the time to be even slightly responsible regarding anything but my selfish emotions, Aizen-san, who was so very above reproach, may not have been able to frame me and kill two birds with one stone."

For once, Toushirou needed time to consider. To mull over what, essentially, Kisuke was telling him--that all of this was the former captain's fault, one way or another, whether thanks to pride, or responsibility, or just too much damned confidence. But wasn't that how the biggest problems always surfaced? Someone would overestimate himself. Get himself landed in enough trouble to warn him away from such behavior in the future-- this was the plan for Aizen, wasn't it? Somewhere along the line, Aizen would trip over his own ego, and the Gotei would keep a blade pointed at his throat, just waiting for that opportune moment.

Perhaps Kisuke had tripped over that blade first. And, in all honesty, perhaps he'd deserved to.

It was Toushirou's turn to take his sweet time, making sure to drink plenty of water in order to help the mochi go down. Just one, and just to be polite.

"Then, you learned your lesson the hard way," Toushirou noted, after finishing, fully expecting to be berated somehow for belaboring the obvious. "And if you haven't learned it completely, may you experience your hardships again. But I'm not one to either tear down nor help reconstruct pride-- are we venturing to trade more details? History? Clearance?

"Hopefully you aren't the type to work alone."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

log; ongoing;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject