So, haha...this story has been in the works for like 6 years. I've been chewing on it forever. I'm always afraid I'm going to mess it up, as mysteries are rather intricate creatures.

But you know what? If you don't write it and share it, you'll never have any fun. So now that my life has slowed down a little, I'm going to try.

WANTED: Someone to bounce ideas of the story off of. I miss having someone to collaborate with. It can feel a bit like shouting into a void sometimes when you're just writing fic alone.

This story means a lot to me-I just want to do it right. They deserve it.

Prologue

There are doors within one's mind.

Doors that creak open. Doors with fancy locks and even more ostentatious keys. Doors that slam, throwing air scented like freshly-sharpened pencils just millimeters in front of your nose.

Some lead to hallways and corridors well travelled, worn down in the middle as if it belonged beneath the footfalls of guests visiting a medieval castle. But still, he can't imagine treading over the same path that many times, already, his shins ache with the dullness that comes with spending 600 years walking on the same few stones.

Still others come in pairs. If you step through one, the other will never be open again. A loss of innocence that you never know you possess until it's a shattered dish, only fit for an artifact of mental excavation, but again, that is life.

Urahara rests his hands on the railing as he looks out over the garden. The moon is full; the leaves are silvered, except for where they lay in shadow. He never bothers to fill in the divot from where he landed that night, after they ran helter-skelter through the dark, far away from the certain death that faced him there. Instead, it just grows thicker with more and more beautiful greenery. It reminds him of other times, when doors weren't closed.

He realizes he is squeezing the rail and lifts his hands up. It is dusty and leaves a residue on his palms, smeared grey. How nostalgic.

He smiles and wipes two of his fingers over his lips, down the side of his face, and peers over the rail, into the mirrored pond below. This too is an illusion. An image of an image meant to simulate something else. His blood isn't pumping, nor does it taste real, but the picture is sexy nonetheless.

Yoruichi had done the same thing as him. Together they had taken only enough time to get out as quickly as possible, no goodbyes, no chances to bring others in their wake. But in the mind of the one who loved her, there is a revolving door. Yes, she was the type to get trapped, around and around, Urahara knew that she'd continue to circle within it, running futilely, trying to prevent it from skinning her heels or slamming against her rear .

But Urahara was never sure if he had ever tugged that man's door open. He thinks he has, but with him you could never tell. That was the magnetism of his appeal. Maybe it opened but he never walked through it. Regardless of if it was ever open, it was certainly shut now.

Ch 1

Yoruichi wrung her hands as she stood in the doorway. Her brows knit together in worry as she noticed the man schlepping back into the shop as if no one could see him.

"That's not a healthy vigil."

Urahara paused. He pulled his hat a little further over his eyes. "Ah, but it's just a ritual. No harm done." He smiled.

"It's been over 100 years, by now." Yoruichi folded her arms across her chest. "I know you feel responsible for many things that happened, but it's not good to hold onto this."

"I've already let go. But, I still wouldn't feel right if I did nothing to remember." His face was solemn. "Even after someone is dead, memories cross the mind when you notice it is their birthday."

Yoruichi frowned. "Listen to yourself, Kisuke." She softened a little before sighing. "Ah…I guess."

She could feel his tension through the air and it melted into her, like it always did at these moments. She could hear his thoughts out loud, as if he was screaming, and she wondered if he could hear hers too. She hoped he couldn't. He really was too hard on himself, but that was something he would never change.

"I know things cross your mind sometimes, too," he said.

There they stood, seconds passing to minutes, minutes to hours, wind on their faces as the earth turned.

Yes, he thought to himself, Yoruichi remembers too.

xXx

Soul Society burned with activity and the flutter of hell butterflies bearing disastrous news. Sandals slapped on the ground as unseated members ran this way and that, fearing every shadow as if it would eat them alive. The war was over, wasn't it? Wasn't it? Rumors mutated and hurled themselves from tongue to tongue, but right now the captains were gone, hidden away in a secret meeting as the vice-captains struggled to contain the panic until further orders.

Yamamoto cleared his throat before addressing his audience. "As you should know by now, the captain of the 12th division Kurotsuchi Mayuri has committed treason of the highest degree." He spoke with authority belying his uncertainty.

The weary faces around the table stared back at him, the ranks of the captaincy slimmer than ever, both in number and appearance.

He continued. "After our recent losses from Aizen and his ilk, he has taken advantage of this moment of weakness and has used our lack of unified defenses and diminished leadership to launch his initiative."

A parade of expressions swept over the faces of the different captains, ranging from shock to sadness to anger to blank stares.

"While I know some of you did not feel especially close to him, and would have regarded his actions as an inevitable betrayal, you must not forget the integral part he has played in many of the day-to-day functioning of Soul Society. This is precisely why he is so dangerous now, and why it is important that he is captured alive."

Eyes silently searched each other, pondering the history of the man who by all means should never have been allowed out of special detention, let alone allowed to become captain.

Yamamoto flipped to a paper with several pictures on it. "As a start, we've taken his closest associates into custody, and we're attempting to get more information from them."

Ukitake was the first to break the silence. "Has anything been found out, yet?"

"Tch!" Soifon spat. "Regardless of our means of interrogation, it seems that they are as clueless as we are about his plans for escape."

Byakuya calmly leafed through the paperwork handed out at the door, settling on a chart, coolly contemplating the situation. "He can't have gone far, and there has been no detection of any unauthorized senkaimon use."

"Yes, but that data came from the 12th itself," said Hitsugaya, as he perused the timestamp. "Is this even reliable?"

"Think about it. This data is trustable," Soifon growled. "That man never gave a damn about anyone but himself and he essentially lobotomized his lieutenant before he left."

Ukitake sighed. "I'm sure that Nemu-chan once had everything that we needed to know, if that is the case. Is there any chance of retrieving it from her eventually, do you know?"

Kotetsu Isane blustered into the hall, nearly out of breath. "Unohana-taichou has been on that for the past three hours with little luck." She spun to face the table and bowed deeply. "She sends her sincerest apologies for not making this meeting, but without her continuous supervision at the moment, Nemu will most likely die or at least lose all higher order functions. She is in deeply critical condition after her assault, and we don't understand much about how she's put together. We're just lucky we found her in time."

"Apology accepted. A possible witness like Nemu is too valuable to lose right now." Yamamoto waved his hand. "Besides, someone in the 12th can possibly reprogram her later, though she will most likely be unseated, if she is ever deemed fit for any form of service again."

He slammed his staff on the ground three times. "I am now issuing a top-to-bottom search of Soul Society! Leave no stone unturned! Try to capture him alive, as his motivations are unclear and must be uncovered to determine if there is any further threat to our wishes for order and peace!"

"I wouldn't restrict the search to Soul Society, only" Kyouraku readjusted his hat, the sly smile returning to his lips. "He's a clever one. Always with an ace in the hole when we needed him…."

Byakuya's face twitched once in slight annoyance as he put the senkaimon data back into the pile of papers and looked for something new.

"You do have a point, but given our current resources and the most likely outcome, we should focus our search efforts here," The Captain-commander reaffirmed.

"Keh, not like it matters to me," Kenpachi grunted. "So long as if I find 'im, I can fight 'im." He laughed. "I always wondered what that freak would be like, but he'd always turn down my invitations. Chicken."

Sasakibe stepped out from the shadows. "I am sorry to do this without your permission, but just in case he did manage to get out, I've sent out an alert to the shinigami assigned to the human realm." He nervously toyed with the hilt of his zanpakuto.

"This is probably all that is necessary at this point." Yamamoto nodded. "I suppose I should tell you to remind them that he is extremely dangerous, and that they are to get word to us right away with a location if he is spotted, rather than to engage him in battle."

"Yes sir, I'll send out a secondary reminder for clarification." He bowed and neatly walked out.

Yamamoto bowed his head. "Today, my friends, my comrades, I give you my sincerest apologies that I allowed my judgment to be swayed in allowing him into the Gotei 13 after he was rightfully sorted into a life of confinement and supervision. But, with your strength, we will set this right."

"Be careful, and do right. Meeting adjourned."

With that, the old man stormed out of the room, causing an explosion of outrage and gossip amongst the remaining captains.

xXx

Mayuri slunk along the wet ground, trying as best as he could to blend into his surroundings. However, his movements were too staccato, even when slow, and his appearance couldn't keep up with the changing scenery around him. At least the drenching rain covered the sound of his footsteps, but it made his clothing stick to him, so that his awkward movements were even less graceful. He reeled in his reiatsu as closely as he could, but if he spent too long in any one place, he could easily be sniffed out by whatever shinigami was assigned to this area of the Human world.

Mayuri knew his strengths, and he was an ambush predator of the highest apex. Like a spider on the wall, the world slipped into his traps, where he could expend as much aggression as possible with the smallest amount of effort. But this was something he had not planned for. He had never planned to be on the run, to be hunted.

No, he had not planned for this and it gnawed at his very core like acid, destroying his deeply practiced façade from the inside out.

In fact, movement of any kind did not come quickly to him. Few things annoyed him more than being hurried. The extra time taken to plan and plot and spin his yarn always translated into a quicker outcome down the road. He would rather march proudly in, conquer mightily and then strut his kingly ass out the door while the eyes bulged and the jaws dropped.

He hadn't had enough time before he fled to destroy everything he would have liked. It would take them a long time to break any of the codes on his files, on his personal log, and even then, he preferred to speak in riddles, in case the time came when he would be placed under mistrust. But, the fact of the matter was that the information was still there, and would be used if it was found. That would be embarrassing for two reasons. It made the bile rise in his throat to think of it.

He had been here only once before—excursions to this world were beyond him, things for his scurrying underlings to do while shirking real lab work. But even if he had wanted to visit this world, this was one place he would have avoided going. He wouldn't have gone there at all if he hadn't needed to be launched into Hueco Mundo during the Winter War.

How embarrassing. It made his blood boil. He would have finished preparing transportation of his own if he had only been given one more week. But no, he had to go see that man. After all of those years of not even having to give him a passing thought…

Unless he wanted to.

Right now, he did not.

Mayuri stopped to catch his breath. He was almost there. He wiped the water from his eyes with the back of his bare hand, and threw back his hair which had now been torn fully loose by the elements. He was not looking forward to seeing himself in the mirror when all of this was done.

There, in front of him was the back of a shop. The lights were still on, and he could see shadows moving about behind the drawn blinds.

Damn.

He had hoped that the hour would be late enough that he could simply sneak in, and speak to that man in private. As disgusting as the fact was, that man was the closest thing he had ever had to a friend…and here he was. How ironic. He breathed deeply, once, twice, ten times, twenty, before heading into the clear behind the shop.

xXx

Urahara stiffened. He felt something…different. Something that shouldn't be there.

"Kisuke," Yoruichi looked at him, concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Hmmm." Urahara's eyes shifted from side to side. "Did you hear anything?"

"I can't say that I did," Yoruichi yawned. "But this rain has been playing havoc on all my senses, both human and feline."

"Don't worry then," Urahara took the last swig of tea from his cup and set the empty container down on the table. "I'm sure it's nothing. I'm going to go stand by the door for some fresh air. I like rain, you know."

Yoruichi cast him an accusatory glance.

"I'm going to go lay down, I'm tired," she said. "Don't stay up too late—you know what happened the last time Tessai opened shop alone…"

They both laughed. Yes, Tessai had not been quite awake enough and had accentually switched some merchandise around. Oh, what a blunder to switch the box. reiatsu restoring gumballs with the new mod souls that didn't have any inhibitions…you know, for that cute spare gigai you've got lying around.

"I'll be fine," Urahara reassured her. "Regardless, you know I'll always wake up for you."

"Yeah. My foot to your face." She stuck out her tongue. "Seriously, g'night."

After he heard her footsteps trail off to her bedroom, Urahara crept over to the door. He couldn't explain why, but he felt the presence of something familiar.

There was a shadow that he could see through the paper of the door. His chest tightened as he reached for the edge, his right hand gripped firmly on his cane, and slid it open.

Mayuri's hand was curled into a tight fist, partially extended forward to knock on the door that was no longer there. The rain had washed off the majority of the white and the black, leaving his deep skin color rare and visible, and his hair was now completely flat and hung limply down his shoulders. Even the robes that generally concealed his outline clung to him tightly, exposing his wiry form.

In fact, when their eyes met, it was harder to say who looked more surprised.

Mayuri dropped his hand slowly.

"Mayuri-san! Good to see you!" Urahara beamed. He took in the extremely waterlogged appearance and continued to stare, frozen.

Mayuri frowned. "Well, are you going to invite me in, or are you just going to stare at me all night?"

"Well, I guess that the rate I'm going, it will be a little of both." Urahara laughed. "Come in, come in. Let me get you something to dry off with, and something warm to drink."

"Yes, that would be much appreciated." Mayuri shut the door behind him, not daring to come in any further than was possible, and took off his shoes.

After much clunking and bustling, Urahara returned with several towels and a few articles of clothing.

"I know that I've sent you several notes inviting you to come visit for old time's sake since the war ended," Urahara mused. "But something tells me that this is not the reason for your visit."

"I appreciate the hospitality, but I do not have much time." Mayuri glared at him. "I need an untraceable gigai as quickly as possible, so that I may leave as quickly as possible."

Urahara's eyes went wide before settling back. He pulled his fan from his pocket, and tapped it to his nose before hiding his face behind it.

"I see then. I may have just the thing…" His face glazed over in thought for a few moments, before recrystalizing into his normal smiling mask. "But first, we'll talk…over tea."

Mayuri's face blanched green, then heated red. "But, I told you I—"

"Hush," Urahara said. The shadows around his gaze grew, reaching further down his face as he leaned forward. "As soon as you arrived, I switched on something special of mine. You'll need the gigai later, but for now I can guarantee that nobody will be able to find you here tonight."