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It doesn’t take long for word of an unknown Shiba to reach the ears of Seireitei. Rumours float on the wind, spreading faster than pollen, and soon there’s not a person left that isn’t talking about it. The gossip only erupts louder when Shiba-fukutaichou takes a week off to hunt the man down, determined to bring home his long-lost family member and take him in. If it were any other family, perhaps the poor man would have been left to rot in the higher districts where Kisuke heard he was last, but he this man is allegedly a Shiba, and the Shiba clan would not leave one of their own to rot.
The gossip about the unknown Shiba only gets more ridiculous with time and after a month passes with nobody meeting the man, they only seem to get worse. Don’t people have anything better to do than speculate if he was actually a hollow in disguise designed to kill Shiba-fukutaichou so that they can take over his position and ruin the court guard squads from the inside? Because that’s exactly what he’d listened to the owner of a small ramen shop in Seireitei, Takabayashi-san, whisper to someone the other day. He’d almost wasted a perfectly good bowl of broth when he struggled not to laugh at the very idea.
All of this is to say, even Kisuke is intrigued. He wants to meet this man who has quickly become a legend without a face. So, when Yoruichi extends an invitation for him to join the Shibas’ latest party—they’re calling it a “welcome to the family” party, but it really seems like just another excuse to blow things up and drink copious amounts of sake—he accepts. Two days later, he’s not sure that was the right decision.
The party is in full swing when he arrives. They’ve set it up on a large expanse of lush green land within the Shiba complex. There’s a stage decorated with glowing lanterns with a band playing atop it, tables filled with food and drinks, and children running around giggling. Even though the party technically only started an hour ago, most of the adults seem more than half-way to drunk and Kisuke wants to roll his eyes.
Kyouraku and Ukitake are sitting off to the side. Ukitake is smiling serenely as Kyouraku leans against him, perfectly content amidst the calm, as per usual.
“You actually came!” A large arm wraps around his shoulders, and it takes every part of Kisuke to not flinch away from the contact, even as he recognises the owner.
“Shiba-fukutaichou,” he greets, shrugging the arm off, “I could hardly turn down an offer from such a prestigious family as yours. Thank you for the invitation to this lowly one.”
Kaien blanches at his over formal tone. “Why do you always treat me like we barely know each other?” he complains. “And as I recall it, you’ve turned down my invitations often!”
Kisuke plays up the wide eyes and shocked look as best as he can. Spoiler: it’s very good. “This lowly one would never dare, Shiba-fukutaichou,” he says.
A snort of laughter draws Kisuke’s attention away. It’s not a familiar voice, and in an instant he’s on guard. This place may be safe—who would be dumb enough to crash a Shiba party, especially one filled with several Captain Class shinigami?—but Onmitsukidou habits aren’t easily forgotten.
As if noting how uncomfortable Kisuke is with having someone out of his immediate view, the person steps to the side, keeping an appropriate distance in a way that Kaien never does. As soon as Kisuke can see the unknown man, his brain pauses, working full capacity to understand what—or rather who—he’s looking at. If Kaien wasn’t standing in front of him, he’d think this was a prank. Kaien masquerading with bleached orange hair just for the fun of it. Or a result of Ganju’s latest prank. But this isn’t a prank.
Kaien grins at the Shiba—because he can’t be anything, but a Shiba when he looks like that—and it dawns on Kisuke that this must be the newest addition to the clan.
“Urahara-taicho, meet Ichigo Shiba, my baby cousin,” Kaien declares, moving to drape himself over the now scowling orange-haired boy.
“Stop introducing me like that, Kaien. We have no idea if I am your cousin or not, and I’m definitely not a fucking baby,” Ichigo grouches, ducking away from Kaien after a few moments with a huff.
Kisuke blinks at the display. It’s somewhat amusing, if baffling, to see the equivalent of Kaien’s face with a permanent scowl instead of a smile, and a distinct sense of caution and grumpiness rather than sunshine and carelessness. Which isn’t to say that Kaien doesn’t have his moments, of course. He’s a fukutaichou, and you don’t get that position by being completely carefree. But here in this complex, surrounded by friends and family, Kaien is in his element and completely relaxed. Ichigo looks ready to bolt at any moment. Kisuke’s sees the way Ichigo’s eyes flicker, watching everyone around them carefully even as his posture is relaxed, the way he’s clocking the exits, his body positioned just right that if he needs to, he can be out of sight in an instant.
Pouting, Kaien doesn’t try to reattach himself to Ichigo, but Kisuke can tell he considers it. There’s a glimmer of understanding in those eyes, though; a sadness. Over the rejection, or over whatever brought Ichigo the point of rejecting the contact, Kisuke isn’t sure, but he knows it doesn’t matter. Kaien in a bleeding heart, and any sadness of his family’s is his as well. “You’re definitely my cousin. Whether it's twice or thrice removed is inconsequential,” Kaien says, breaking the moment of silence that had fallen over them. A grin forms on his face. “Unless you’d prefer I refer to you as little brother?”
Ichigo’s nose scrunches up, and Kisuke watches Kaien delight in the reaction, as if seeing it for the first time. “Not in a million years. Just call me Ichigo. Stop trying to overcomplicate things.”
There’s a shrug from Kaien, and both Kisuke and Ichigo can tell that this isn’t an admission of defeat from the older Shiba. Ichigo appears weary, like this is a conversation he’s had too many times, and Kisuke would wager that is the case.
“Oh ho, what’s all this then? You’re not even going to introduce your sister’s best friend to the man of the hour first? I’m hurt, Kaien,” Yoruichi says, appearing in a sudden drape over Kaien’s shoulder.
Kaien takes it with grace, simply grinning at the contact. “Ichigo walked over on his own. It’s not my fault!” he argues.
Yoruichi is sizing the Shiba up, Kisuke knows. Kaien knows as well, even if he’s refusing to acknowledge it. The most fascinating thing is that Ichigo seems to know it too. He doesn’t say anything, but his posture remains forcibly relaxed, and his eyes glance deliberately over several of the hidden knives on Yoruichi, almost like he knows where she keeps them.
“Shihouin Yoruichi, head of the Shihouins, Taichou of the Second Division, and lover of all Shibas,” she purrs. Kisuke isn’t sure if the faux seductive tone is meant to pull a reaction, to tease, or simply because Yoruichi is legitimately interested. He’s betting on the first, though. Unfortunately, she doesn’t get much of one. The lines between Ichigo’s forehead become more pronounced, but otherwise, there’s no hint of reaction.
“Hi,” is all Ichigo says instead.
If anything, Yoruichi seems to find this even better, cackling. “I like you. Ichigo, right?”
Ichigo nods.
Yoruichi takes the lack of verbal response in stride. “Well, Ichigo, I think you and I are going to get along very well. You need anything and the Shiba’s can’t help,” she offers a smirk and lowers her voice, though not really low enough to be anything more than for show, “Or if you want to get into some trouble without them knowing, you just let me know.”
There’s wariness in Ichigo’s eyes, but he nods sharply again. “Alright, Yoruichi,” he says. He pauses. “Yoruichi-sama? Shihouin-sama?” he mutters, more to himself, as if trying to figure out how he’s meant to be calling this strange woman. If he really was found in Rukon, Kisuke can sympathise with the confusion. It’s only been a month, they can’t expect him to have been occupied with learning the correct ways to speak to people in power–especially coming from one of the great clans, and in particular the one of the great clans that doesn’t care for formalities at all.
Yoruichi laughs brightly, moving to drape herself over his shoulders. Unlike with Kaien, Ichigo allows the movement and relaxes, almost like it’s familiar to him. “Just call me Yoruichi. Or hell, Yoru-nee if you like,” she offers, cackling when Kaien takes offense.
“He can’t call you Yoru-nee!” he argues.
Yoruichi dances away from a half-hearted swipe that Kaien makes, and the dance of flames from his fingertips that are more like a mini firework than the firey kidou Kisuke knew it to be at full power. “It’s not like you to stand on formalities, Shiba-fukutaichou,” she says, pouting like she doesn’t understand what the problem is.
“I don’t care about the formalities,” Kaien says, “Ichigo is going to call me Kaien-nii before he’s allowed to call you Yoru-nee.”
Ichigo rubs at his temples at the argument, but Kisuke blinks at the way his eyes almost glow gold, dancing with mirth that doesn’t translate to the scowl on the boy’s face. But even as he’s smirking, something about Ichigo looks younger like this—mischievous.
“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who decides how to refer to people, Kaien,” Ichigo says dryly. “If I want to call Yoruichi Yoru-nee, I don’t think you’re in a position to stop me.”
Kaien whirls around, hand held to his heart. “Betrayed by my very cousin! After all I’ve done for you!”
Kisuke wishes he had a fan or something to hide the grin pulling at the corners of his mouth that this play-by-play, even as he’s conscious of the eyes they’re beginning to attract.
Just as quickly as the fun atmosphere came, it goes. Something in Kaien’s words makes Ichigo’s scowl turn stony and his eyes shutter like the pull of a blind. “Right,” he says. He doesn’t continue—doesn’t offer any explanation for what that single word means, but Kaien must know because suddenly he’s by Ichigo’s side.
“Sorry Ichigo, you know that’s not what I meant-”
“It’s fine, Kaien,” Ichigo cuts him off. “I’m tired, so I’m going inside for a while.” He forces a small smile onto his face, but Kaien looks even more upset by that.
“Okay,” Kaien says, “go get some rest. You’re welcome to rejoin the party whenever—or not at all.”
Ichigo nods, and then he’s gone. Kisuke blinks in surprise at the place where Ichigo was only a second before. He glances over to Yoruichi, and he’s studying the place Ichigo once was as well with a slight frown. “I thought you said you found him in Rukon,” she breaks the silence between the three of them.
Kaien nods, face becoming more serious. “We did. District 66 of North-Rukon when I found him.”
“How the hell does a bastard child from the outer districts of North-Rukon know shunpo?” she hisses.
Kisuke agrees with the sentiment. Shunpo isn’t something that just anyone can learn. Ichigo is what, under a century old, a bastard child who presumably was pretty roughed up when they found him, and from the outer-rukon. How does someone like that learn a Shinigami technique? Not to mention, to a level that could rival Onmitsukidou members.
Shrugging helplessly, Kaien looks across the clearing to the main building. “Hell if I know. Ichigo doesn’t tell me anything and I don’t push. Most I’ve gotten is that someone trained him. He never names them. I catch him going to give me sometimes, but then he clamps down and just says, ‘a shopkeeper trained me’ or ‘a shopkeeper helped me.’” He sighs loudly.
“And you believe that?” Yoruichi asks him. There’s no judgement in her tone.
Kaien offers her a wry grin. “I’m no Shihouin, but I’m pretty good at telling when someone’s lying. And whoever taught Ichigo knew that boy can’t lie for shit. It’s only been a few weeks, but I can already tell that he wears his emotions on his sleeve, tells things how they are and doesn’t give a shit about formalities. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t telling me everything either, though.”
Kisuke files that away for later. That meant that someone has told Ichigo that weakness and advised him that the best fix, other than learning to be better about lying (which strikes him as too much of a hassle for someone like Ichigo) is to just say as much truth as you can and avoid talking about things that require him to lie. It’s how he would have solved that same problem.
A loud cheer breaks the silence that had fallen over the three, along with shouts of laughter, and one shout of anger as a single firework goes off, bursting bright blue above the party. Kaien visibly shakes off the seriousness, grinning brightly. “Anyway, tonight is a happy occasion. There’s no need to worry over things like that. Enjoy yourselves. Drink some sake and enjoy the fireworks that are actually planned.”
Cackling, Yoruichi grabs Kisuke’s hand to drag him to the beverage tables, waving goodbye as Kaien returns to playing the good Clan Head and greeting people.
“What did you think?” Yoruichi asks, as they position themselves at the edge of the clearing.
Humming, Kisuke sips his drink—a small mouthful first to test for poison before properly beginning to drink it down—and considers everything he’s observed. “He’s not what I expected,” he says finally.
“Me too.”
“You like him though,” Kisuke points out, because that offer earlier might have been something of a test, but he knew it was also serious. It said a lot.
“I do,” Yoruichi agrees. “There’s something about him that just screams ‘trustworthy’ under all that gruff.”
Kisuke understands all too well what she means. Something about the boy tugs at his heart, even though he thought he cut that out long ago when he joined the Onmi and became a legalised murderer. “We’re going to see more of him,” Kisuke says.
Yoruichi nods, because he’s not the only one that understands Ichigo’s abilities without academy training makes him a target for the C46. The only way to subvert the danger of them coming down on him—because that boy is probably subtle as a brick and is unlikely to just let things go, so his abilities will come out eventually—is to put him through official training.
“So, do you want to be the one to tell Shiba-fukutaichou that he’s going to have to let Ichigo attend the academy to keep him safe, or are we going to leave that to Kuukaku?” Kisuke asks, tone deceptively mild even though he blanches at the idea of telling the over-protective Shiba that now that he’s found his lost family member, he has to let him go.
A sharp grin flits across Yoruichi’s face. “I don’t think we’ll have to.”
“Oh?”
Kisuke follows her line of sight to see someone sitting on the top of the main house building. “Ah,” he understands, “you’re going to go straight to the source.”
Rolling her eyes, Yoruichi shakes her head. “No, Kisuke, you’re going straight to the source.”
Kisuke blinks at her blankly. He hasn’t been this confused since he was told by her that he’d be Taichou of the 12th. “Me?” His disbelief shows—he’s not trying to hide it.
“He likes you better,” Yoruichi says, which can’t be true because they barely know each other. He doesn’t need to say as much for his friend to understand. She softens under his uncertainty but doesn’t back down. “He was more relaxed before I showed up. I was watching from a far for a while and he was more comfortable with you. Kuukaku and I were a little bit away, and she told me something interesting too.”
Kisuke stays silent, waiting for her elaboration.
“Shiba Ichigo doesn’t react around strangers. He nods when required and speaks bluntly if he must speak at all, but he doesn’t speak or act freely. But with you, he willingly entered into conversation first, almost like he wanted to meet you. And he willingly argued with Kaien around you-”
“He did around you as well,” he has to point out, because if anything, Ichigo had been more animated when they were riling Kaien up.
“-he likes you, so you should be the one to tell him,” Yoruichi says.
Kisuke sighs. Clearly, his ex-boss has decided. “Fine,” he says reluctantly. “If I must.”
“I mean, you don’t have to. But it’s either you talk to him, and he brings it up himself, or we have to speak with Kaien or Kuukaku.”
Kisuke sighs again. So basically, he must.
Yoruichi laughs softly and pushes him lightly towards the main house and taking his empty cup. “Go on. Talk to him and then head home. This isn’t really your scene anyways,” she says.
He might be offended if he didn’t agree so wholeheartedly. Inclining his head briefly, he shunpos across the field in an instant, slowing himself to not startle the boy as he lands on the roof a few metres from Ichigo. His landing is seamless and silent, and Kisuke considers how to get Ichigo’s attention. He’s not used to wanting people to notice him, so now he finds himself in a uniquely awkward situation. Does he flare his reiatsu so that Ichigo knows he’s there? Does Ichigo even know how to sense reiatsu? Just because the boy knows shunpo doesn’t mean he’s fully trained.
But before he can decide, Ichigo is sighing and turning to look over at him, not even a little surprised. “I watched you shunpo. You don’t need to alert me,” he says.
Kisuke’s eyes don’t widen.; he’s too well trained, but if he wasn’t, he knows his shock would be palpable. How did Ichigo know-
“You’re still thinkin’ so loud, Kis-Urahara-taichou. Come sit down with me or fuck off. I don’t care which, but don’t stand around staring at me like a creep,” Ichigo says, returning to laying down and not glancing his way again.
Still awkward, and unsure of how to broach the subject he’s been sent to, Kisuke takes the offer and sits down next to Ichigo. He’s not quite comfortable enough to lay down, but Ichigo doesn’t complain. Together, they stare up at the sky. It’s a cloudless night, and from this spot, he can see the stars and the moon with astounding quality. Is this why Ichigo chose here, of all places? “You can call me Kisuke,” he says, breaking the silence the only way he can think of, recalling the way Ichigo stumbled over his name and his title.
Ichigo’s lips twitch. “Thanks. I’m not used to the formal shit.”
“I couldn’t tell.”
The boy barks a laugh at his sarcasm, and Kisuke thinks, oh, Yoruichi was right. Because the boy in front of him doesn’t seem any different to earlier on the surface, but there’s something more relaxed in his posture, and when he glances over at Kisuke, those blinds are gone and in his eyes is an amused look soaked in something else that he can’t place. It makes his skin buzz, though not unpleasantly.
“You think you’re so funny.” Ichigo huffs, but there’s a small smile tugging at his lips. “You gonna spit out whatever Yoruichi sent you here for?” he asks.
“I’m the Taichou of the 12th. Yoruichi-san doesn’t send me anywhere,” he lies.
Ichigo rolls his eyes, and the disbelief on his face isn’t hidden, though why he’s so certain, Kisuke has no idea. Does he know about Kisuke’s ties to Yoruichi, or did he observe it from their interactions earlier? There’s a familiar itch in his fingers to investigate—to question and research and resolve things until he understands entirely the situation and—ideally—can use it to his advantage. But Ichigo looks at him like he’s expecting the onslaught of questions that Kisuke knows aren’t showing on his face, so he doesn’t ask any of them. Partially out of pettiness, because how dare this Shiba understand how to read him when they’ve only just met. But mostly, he realises in the twist of a smirk at the corners of Ichigo’s lips, the boy isn’t going to give him the answers he seeks, anyway.
Ichigo’s eyes slip closed, and Kisuke watches in fascination at the sheer display of trust from someone who was living in Rukon. Rule number one: trust no-one but yourself. Especially with any vulnerabilities, like not looking at who’s next to you. The small part in the back of his mind that’s assassin trained whispers you could kill him with ease right now. Which—disturbing, but true none-the-less.
He doesn’t try. He has no reason to kill this Shiba, and he’d be both caught quickly and killed quickly for the crime against one of the great clans. But still, Ichigo’s eyes flutter open, and it feels like he’s seeing straight through Kisuke’s thoughts.
“Seriously. Not that I’m against the company,” not a lie, surprisingly, “but what the hell did you come up here for?”
“You need to attend the academy,” Kisuke blurts out.
Ichigo’s eyes widen and he blinks, for the first time since they started talking. He’s truly surprised by what he’s being told, and part of Kisuke preens under that, even if he also wants to facepalm at how stupidly he’s breached the topic.
“Why, Urahara-taichou, do you want to recruit me? Trying to get in early? Or it is Yoruichi that’s seeking me out?” Ichigo asks. It takes a minute for Kisuke’s brain to latch onto the fact that Ichigo is teasing him right now. Or something akin to it. The taichou, if nothing else, is absolutely mocking.
“While I wouldn’t be against your admission, and I’m sure Yoruichi-san would love the chance to hone your shunpo further,” Ichigo snorts at Kisuke’s dry tone, “this is for Shiba-fukutaichou and the rest of the Shibas’ sake.”
Pushing himself up, Ichigo twists his body, and suddenly Kisuke feels an invisible pressure. It’s not like reiatsu pushing down on him or curling against his own, but there’s something tangible about having Ichigo’s full attention trained on him. “Elaborate.”
Kisuke misses the teasing tones and generally flippant speech in an instant. This was something akin to an order, an edge of caution appearing over Ichigo. Kisuke tries for a calming smile, but Ichigo doesn’t appear any more mollified.
“People from Rukon can’t shunpo,” Kisuke says. “And they certainly can’t shunpo at seated shinigami level.”
Ichigo makes a noise of understanding, and the caution falls away to weariness. “But if I went through the academy and ‘learnt’ it there, it would be fine,” he fills in, whispering the words like he hadn’t considered that his ability to be an issue before now.
Still, at least he catches on quickly.
“Right. But if we tried to tell Kuukaku-san or Shiba-fukutaichou…” he trails off, but Ichigo snorts in understanding.
“I’ll take care of it,” Ichigo says.
Kisuke observes him. “They’re not going to make it easy,” he warns. Because he knows Kuukaku and Kaien—has known them for a very long time now—and it feels only fair to warn the boy that’s only known them a scant handful of weeks that this isn’t going to be as easy as just declaring his desires and then trotting off to the academy.
Humming, Ichigo grins, and there’s that glint of mischief back from earlier. “It’s okay. I told you I’ll take care of it, and I will. Kaien and Kuukaku are easy to convince if you know what you’re doing,” he says.
Kisuke’s not sure he agrees, but he’s completed his goal, so it’s no longer his problem to consider. So he just offers a nod and lets the silence fall over them again. They’re both looking out over the complex now. He should go—he met the Shiba he wanted to meet, and he passed along the information he needed to. There’s no reason for him to remain at this rowdy party. But for some reason, he wants to stay here, enjoying the presence of this boy for a little longer. It’s an unfamiliar feeling.
In the distance, fireworks go off. Given the crowd of people he can see watching them in groups, Kisuke assumes this time they were actually planned. The sky lights up with flowers and butterflies and birds of light that quickly fizzle out, letting darkness fall again before another round go off. It’s beautiful in the way only short-lived things can be. There in a moment and gone in the next, so they must be appreciated in the moment.
Kisuke scoffs at his own thoughts. He’s getting sentimental.
Shaking it off, he looks over at Ichigo and appreciates the way the coloured flames reflect off of his eyes. Ichigo has one leg tucked towards himself with the other one completely extended, and his chin is resting on the knee close to his body. He looks good, like this, Kisuke thinks. Relaxed, rather than cautious. More the age he’s meant to be.
“I can feel you starin,” Ichigo says. He doesn’t say to stop, so Kisuke doesn’t. His eyes trace every line of Ichigo and commit his form to memory. Kisuke tries to convince himself that he’s looking at Ichigo the way a scientist looks at anything–objectively. But there’s nothing objective in realising that he wants to bite his way along the collarbone he can see with how Ichigo’s yukata has fallen slightly on his shoulder and just what-
Stunned by the direction of his thoughts, Kisuke pushes himself up from the roof.
“I should go,” he says.
It’s hard to tell, but Kisuke feels like he can see a faint pink on Ichigo’s cheeks, which makes no sense because it’s not like the boy can hear his thoughts.
“Sure,” Ichigo says. He looks over at Kisuke and offers a small smile. “Is it inappropriate to tell a Taichou to get home safely?”
Kisuke blinks in surprise before chuckling. “Some might take offence,” he acknowledges, thinking of the Kuchikis in particular.
“But not you?” Ichigo asks.
“Not me,” Kisuke agrees. “I appreciate the sentiment, Ichigo-dono.”
Ichigo’s face twists in disgust. “Just Ichigo,” he says.
Kisuke inclines his head but doesn’t agree. He may be a captain now, and they may both have come from the Rukongai, but he’s not ready to drop the honorific for a Shiba he’s just met. He probably won’t even see Ichigo that often anyway, so it’s not like it matters.
Sighing loudly, Ichigo rolls his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Later, Kisuke,” he grumbles.
It’s rather cute, Kisuke thinks before he catches himself. Accepting the dismissal from Ichigo, he shunpos back to the barracks as fast as he can, hoping to shake away the image of an almost pouting Ichigo.
How ridiculous.