Title: Dusty Gold
Fandom: Bleach
Characters: Urahara Kisuke, Shihouin Yoruichi
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Bleach / mine, though Yuusuke does.
Summary: Kisuke's first experiences with a life-changing addition to his world.

Really... he'd almost expected a kitten . And not for the reasons he'd chuckle about later, once the shock of everything had worn off and he'd had time for it to sink in. It was simply that baskets left on doorsteps, especially those that came covered in a blanket, normally held a bunch of squirming kittens threatening to do you in with their sheer cuteness.

Or at least, that had been his experiences thus far, attested to by the number of fat, spoiled house-pets living in many of the homes nearby, watched over by an overindulgent child or two. Which was perhaps why his first glance at the basket that appeared somehow overnight on his doorstep had been one of confusion. While he'd certainly been expecting a guest -- and a specific one at that, given the reiatsu he'd caught at the fringes of his perceptions -- that guest in question was often a bit larger, and even when she wasn't, wasn't prone to appearing curled up in a basket on his doorstep.

Crouching down in front of said basket, he'd rested his crossed hands on the crook of Benihime, peering curiously at it from under the shaded brim of his ever-present hat for a moment before reaching out with a shrug to pull up a corner of the blanket. They were just kittens, after all. It wasn't as though they were going to jump out and tear his face off. There was only one kitty in his life who might have been likely to do just that, and he hadn't seen her for months now.

Only... it hadn't been kittens that he'd found. In fact, the contents of the basket had been enough to cause Urahara Kisuke to nearly fall over, plopping down hard onto the front step as he stared incredulously at the sole occupant of the basket. Leaning forward, he had blinked a few times and tried to make sense of things. That someone would leave, of all things, a baby on a front step -- HIS front step, to boot -- was most certainly not one of the things that he'd ever considered would happen to him. But a baby it was, sleeping soundly on a relatively nondescript, tan blanket, a little tuft of blond hair oddly misplaced against dark skin. And then the infant had wakened, and opened sleepy dark golden eyes to look at him, and he'd understood.

He'd been conscious of the way his hands shook slightly as he lifted the child out of the basket, his mind numbly counting weeks -- a little over 9 months total, why hadn't he suspected something? -- and stiffly picking out the resemblance that he couldn't deny. And it had all made sense, even as he'd dimly remarked to himself that it was likely he wouldn't see her again for a very long time. He didn't have any doubts that it had been her who'd left the baby, her reiatsu's sense was burned into his soul like a brand. He couldn't not be conscious of it.

He understood why she'd done it, of course. He knew her too well not to understand, and in a way that was the hardest part of it all. The knowing. The knowing that while neither of them were really cut out to be a parent, she'd taken it upon herself to designate him as the one to take care of their mutual mistake, as sad as it was to consider a child that way.

And he'd been right, though it was an empty victory. It hadn't taken long before he'd adjusted to the new role that had been thrust upon him, learning to change diapers and figure out some way to stop midnight crying spells. It had taken an even shorter time before Urahara Yuusuke had become simply another part of their ragtag little group, riding on Tessai's shoulders and learning bad habits from Jinta.

He'd watched the boy grow, noting that he resembled her in more outward ways, with his gregarious and extrovertive personality, easily able to charm his way into anyone's hearts with those smoky yellow eyes and impish smile. But in a lot of ways... he could see himself in his son. He excelled at shunpou, something that Kisuke could only remark inwardly was only to be expected of the son of Shunshin Yoruichi. But aside from his personality, that was where the similarities stopped. Yuusuke was as mind-hungry as he had been, and the way he pored over any scrap of knowledge he could find, there would have been no doubts as to his parentage. Not that Kisuke had any. He had no reason to.

There had been others who'd shared her bed -- he'd always known and accepted that, despite his secret wish to be the only one -- but he'd always recognized, even if it was only within himself, that she held him in a special place. That if there was anyone who she could truly say she loved, it would have been him. And it was because of that knowledge that he knew she could never have left another man's child for him to raise.

Even if he hadn't known that, known her enough to know that, her own behaviour was enough proof. He hadn't seen her for nearly 8 years now, but that didn't mean much. Not because she tended to go missing for years at a time -- she did -- but because even though he hadn't seen her, he knew she came. He knew she came at nights, or when she thought he wasn't there, and he knew well enough to know that she came to see. Came to watch as the child they'd made together grew. And as much as it had hurt at first, knowing she'd come and specifically avoided not only him, but Yuusuke too, he'd come to accept it. Just as he'd come to accept that perhaps one day, one day in the future when she could accept it on her own, she'd stay again.

But it was still hard, to find himself awakened in the night, to feel the faint taste/sense/touch of her reiatsu, that indefinable sense of her and to simply lay there and mime sleep -- he knew she wouldn't have bought it -- knowing that he could sense her, that she knew he could and still did nothing. He'd actually tried to catch her once, one of the first times she'd stolen by when Yuusuke was still a baby, and all he'd gotten for his troubles was a flash of sad golden eyes before her form had melted away into the cat and she'd been gone through the window.

Honestly, he'd always hoped that if she ever got a chance to actually meet the child she'd abandoned, that she'd be unable to leave again. It was a selfish wish, and he knew it, but that still didn't prevent him from having it. And it was that selfish wish that always had him up on nights like these, sitting out on the porch with a cup of tea, a still and untouched cup of milk sitting across from him -- habit, he always told Tessai, but he knew they both knew better -- just watching the stars. Wondering what the morning would bring, closing his eyes and imagining he could sense her close by. And sometimes, he actually did sense her, and he'd keep his eyes closed and pretend to be asleep, and when the sensation would leave and he'd open them, the cup would be drained. As if in silent apology to him that she couldn't do more.

As was the case tonight, as he felt the faint tingle at the corner of his senses, sighing and relaxing against the wooden frame, listening for the faint, barely audible brush of footsteps against the tatami floor. Only this time, he didn't pretend. Didn't sit there and wait patiently. Instead, he gave what he gauged was enough time for her to pick up the cup and simply spoke, keeping his eyes closed.

"It's been awhile..."

He didn't really expect her to say anything, if anything he expected a sudden rush of air and the sound of the cup hitting the floor as she vanished, but instead he received a sigh and a dry chuckle as the hat was lifted off of his head.

"Yeah... guess it has, Kisuke."

Opening blue-gray eyes, he peered up at her with the faintest ghost of a smile on his face, studying her. She looked much the same, her hair a little longer, eyes a little older. But still the same Yoruichi he'd always known. Nodding through the dull ache in his chest, he held out his own cup in silent toast to her.

"You didn't have to leave, you know."

It was a risky move, going right to the heart of the matter, but he was tired and somehow the games they usually played just... didn't have the same spark that they once did. Resettling himself on the floor, he cocked his head to the side with an echo of his normal smirk.

"You should stay for a visit, Yoruichi-san I'm sure Tessai and the kids would love to see you."

A ploy and he knew it. Better than that, she knew it, and he knew she knew it. But at least it got a wry chuckle out of her as she shook her head, stepping forward to carefully drop his hat back on his head as she leaned down to press her mouth to his for one long moment before whispering.

"Maybe next time, Kisuke."

And then she was gone, in a flutter of movement and a flash of dusty golden eyes. He stared up at the moon for another moment or two before shaking his head slightly, small smile spreading across his features as he gathered up the cups and turned towards the door. Not yet... but maybe soon.