Title: Reconcile

Author: Nirvana

Genre: General/Angst

Summary: In which Urahara must face a confrontation he can no longer avoid. Oneshot.

Characters/Pairings: Urahara Kisuke, Kuchiki Byakuya, Shihouin Yoruichi, no pairings.

Spoilers: Not really, but for clarification, this follows immediately after the Soul Society Arc.

Disclaimer: We all know the drill, but I must say it anyway: I don't own Bleach.

-

"No more hiding, Kisuke," Yoruichi says as a bowl of warm milk is placed in front of her. "He's coming."

Urahara releases a tired breath and crouches down to her eye level, a mischievous gleam surfacing in his gaze. He begins to poke her ear with the end of his fan, only to persist when she bares sharp, white teeth in a wordless threat. Urahara gives her his trademark smile: guarded and good-natured, and replies, feigning hurt, "My dear Yoruichi, what in the world makes you believe I am hiding?"

She eyes him hard, or eyes him as hard as a seemingly harmless cat can, before she turns her attention to her meal, lapping softly at the liquid.

Taking the subtle dismissal in good stride, Urahara snaps his fan shut, straightens and makes his way to the front door as he feels the carefully controlled reiastu approaching them at an alarming speed. Yoruichi's voice is the only thing that keeps him from crossing the threshold, from meeting his fate. He can feel the burn of her eyes on his back.

"Benihime—" she starts.

"Now, now," Urahara playfully scolds. "You, more than anyone else, know I will not need my zanpakutou for this. I would go so far as to say it would be a clear insult to him, ne?"

Yoruichi does not reply for a long moment. Then, "What will you do?"

Their visitor is here, a mere one, five, ten steps away. His friend's inquiry stalls Urahara for a bit longer.

"I'll do what I do best," he replies easily. "I'll just roll with the punches."

She finally looks away. Her eyes are downcast. "You weren't wrong," she murmurs.

Urahara's grin is strained. He clenches his jaw in an effort to keep it up but fails miserably. "You don't know that."

"But—"

"Yoruichi…" He glimpses her through his matted bangs. There is a somberness in his voice that does not match the amusement swimming in his gray eyes. She is fleetingly struck by the oddity of it as the rest of her protests die on her lips. "Besides," Urahara says after a pregnant pause, "who's to say I was right?"

"Well," Yoruichi responds, and he can hear the joking in her deep tone, "I never said that, Kisuke."

For an absurd moment, as he's done so many times before, he wants to turn his back on the world, on his responsibilities, and share another laugh with Yoruichi over some plum wine. For all the centuries he's known her, she's always had this affect on him.

"No, you didn't," he admits with a smirk. "Wish me luck."

Resolute, Urahara slides open the door to his shop, steps outside and beams amiably at the man that stands before him.

"My, Kuchiki-taichou," he exclaims in greeting. "What brings you to my part of the neighborhood?"

The tip of a blade swiftly pressed to his pale neck is answer enough.

"This was always such a good thing about you, Kuchiki-taichou," Urahara compliments. "You were always to the point." He deliberately draws his attention to Senbonzakura, adding, "In this case, quite literally."

The only visible sign of Byakuya's anger is the vice-like grip on his zanpakutou.

"I should kill you," he states, deadpan.

Urahara lowers his head slightly, shielding his eyes with brim of his hat. His smile widens. "You should," he agrees quietly. He steps forward, feels the blade break flesh. There's warmth on his skin from his blood and Urahara almost relishes in the slight pain. He holds up his hands in surrender. "You can," he says, deathly serious, his grin still in place. "I wouldn't dare try to stop you, Kuchiki-taichou."

The silence between the pair is smothering. Urahara can feel it bearing down on his lungs, suffocating him, squeezing out every bit of precious air he greedily breathes. He doesn't want the calm before the storm. What he wants is for Byakuya do to something. Callously scold him like he does his many subordinates, glare disdainfully at him like he does to those he deems below him, take his weapon and with one, clean cut to his throat, put an end to his life and to this guilt that has consumed him for months.

They are both very aware of the fact he deserves any punishment Byakuya is willing to deliver. That much is certain.

What Urahara doesn't deserve, is this blank, impenetrable stare that for once, he cannot decipher.

"Why?" Byakuya breaks the silence with the gently spoken word. "Why her?" he asks.

Urahara is not expecting that. Mildly bewildered, the shopkeeper takes the risk and gives the man a quick glance. He feels his smile falter as he recognizes an emotion in those blue eyes that suddenly bring forth memories of a time long ago, before he became the rogue and before Byakuya became the captain, when the roles they played weren't so definite, when they were both comrades.

But…aren't they comrades now?

"Why Rukia?" Byakuya bites out and Urahara does not need to see to know his gaze has returned to that impeccable frigidness he is infamous for in Soul Society.

'Why' is indeed a very good question even Urahara feels he can not fully answer. Out of all the unsuspecting shinigami he had at his fingers, out of all the soul reapers he could have used as a collateral, a pawn, a puppet, why did he choose Rukia?

His reasons are much too selfish to even attempt to utter. But he will try. He must.

Urahara's smile returns. "I have an idea," he ventures evenly. He gestures behind him. "Why don't you come inside for some tea, hmm? Yoruichi is inside and I'm sure she will be delighted to see you." He's brave enough to meet Byakuya's eyes once more. Only this time, he refuses to look away. Urahara holds the man's cool gaze steadily. "I promise, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Despite the lack of reaction on Byakuya's visage, Urahara knows he is thinking, deliberating, considering and then…

The blade moves away from his neck as the taichou lowers his arm and sheaths Senbonzakura.

For now, for today, Urahara is sure he will not die for his sins.

He does not know whether to be relieved or saddened by this.

Byakuya, without another word, moves past the ex-captain, slipping off his footwear as he steps inside the shop. He pauses, however, when Urahara calls out to him, barely glancing over his shoulder at the blond.

"I…" But Urahara trails off, feeling suddenly foolish. What can he say? How can he put into words how deeply and terribly remorseful he is for the decisions he has made? For the unspeakable risk he put Kuchiki Rukia in for the sake of keeping his creation in total secrecy? How?

Byakuya raises a delicate brow in warning. His patience is waning.

There is nothing he can say, Urahara realizes, nothing at all. Maybe tomorrow, the proper words will come to him, maybe not. Nevertheless, for right now, the least he can do is give this man the explanation he so rightly deserves. After all, isn't it an older brother's duty to protect his younger sister from harm, in any shape and form?

Urahara beams, moving to stand beside Byakuya. "I have an incredible selection of teas to choose from," he gushes. "Do you like green tea, oolong or Earl Grey, Kuchiki-taichou? Or maybe peppermint is to your fancy." Urahara slides the front door behind them close as he and Byakuya, together, step into his home.

As he rushes into the kitchen to prepare the beverages, as he listens in on a partially one-sided conversation between a feline and a captain, as he recalls another time many years ago, he cannot help but smile just a little more. A miniscule weight is lifted from his shoulders but it is more than enough for him to feel the difference.

This is a start, Urahara decides. To what, he does not know.