#this train station has better wifi than the damn office

[doodlegraveyard]

Since I did specialists yesterday I figured maybe I’ll post bonus boys even if they’re scribbly

Hopefully the contrast between the earth kids and the magic kids is striking- helps illustrate Blooms normal life vs the one she steps into..

[feelingfredly]

The Fox Guards the Wolf

Chapter 20--Killing Two Birds with One Stone

Ichigo had been slogging away all afternoon.  His eyes burned and his fingers were considering committing mutiny, but he had to get to the end of this scene.  Coming back deal with a dead body was a bitch after you’d gotten past the high of killing them off.  Or at least it was when you were writing it.  He’d have to ask Kisuke if he wanted first-hand information.

He tried to imagine the look on the blond’s face as he answered. Would this be one of the answer-without-even-slowing-down questions, or one of the-just-how-much-can-I-actually-explain-without-making-this-weird questions? How long would they need to have been dating for him to start that conversation?  Three months?  Would they even get to three months?

Ichigo shook his head and forced away that train of thought.  One day at a time, Kurosaki, he told himself. You have to survive this mess with Okura before you start freaking out over relationship stuff.

Plus, he needed to focus on the very real need of getting his manuscript finished.  He’d had very little time to work on it lately, but the radio silence with Kisuke was driving him crazy and work was clearly his best escape, otherwise he’d just end up pacing the apartment trying to convince himself that waiting wasn’t a waste of time.

Kisuke was trained to deal with situations like this, or at least with people like Okura, and Ichigo knew his experiences dealing with low-level thugs didn’t qualify him for anything more than an occasional street fight; he’d long pushed past his skill parameters.

He kept telling Ichigo to wait, to stay safe, that he'd let him know when it was time to make the next move.  Maybe Ichigo had gotten to be too much of a handicap.   His position at the Onmi had never been anything but a joke to Kisuke, and now that they knew that the Director’s plan was to take the blond out of the equation one way or another, saddling him with a civilian ‘bodyguard’ was clearly meant to hobble him. Ichigo was supposed to be a distraction at best, and cannon fodder at worst. Kawasaki probably thought Kisuke’s bizarre knight-in-shining-bucket-hat routine would make him more vulnerable if he had to divide his attention between taking on Okura and protecting Ichigo. The fucker didn’t know what he’d done, though, because protecting the people he cared about was what Ichigo did. The fact that the Director didn’t mean for it to be real meant exactly nothing. Ichigo was going to protect Kisuke, damn it. Nothing was going to hurt him or anyone else as long as he was in the picture.

He was going to… knock, knock, knock. A quietly insistent rapping at the door broke into his mental diatribe.

He was going to answer the door, apparently.

His new apartment was technically in the same complex as the one he’d had with Renji, but it was an older building on the other side of the development, and they hadn’t gotten around to putting in much security. Kisuke had made up for that which was good because with his family still out of town there was no one who should be visiting him.  Ichigo reached up and pressed the tiny receiver button hidden in the shaggy edges of his hair.

One set of life signs in the hallway.   Female. Does not match any friends or family on file.  Running facial recognition subroutine.

The stripped-down version of the security AI Kisuke developed couldn’t do nearly as much as the original, but it was better than a peephole or a hackable video doorbell.

Facial recognition hit.  Maki Hideko.

Ichigo wrestled with the name for a moment before placing it as belonging to the woman he’d met at Okura’s office building.  His shitsuji.

“Just a minute!” Ichigo closed down his computer and disconnected it from the wifi.  He wasn’t exactly paranoid, but he didn’t want to run any unnecessary risks.

Once the humming stopped, he stood up from the desk, grimacing as his body groaned and popped in complaint at having been stuck in one position too long.

“If you’re from the NHK, I don’t even have a TV.  And I’m unemployed right now.” He grinned to himself at the absurdity of it, but there was no reason to let the butler know she’d been made, right?  He snagged his button-down from the back of the couch as he passed, slinging it around his shoulders as he opened the door.

“I told you,” he started, sticking with the pretense, and was gratified to see the look of consternation on the woman’s face.  “Oh!” He dropped a careless bow. “My apologies…  ah…   Maki-san…? I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

She was just as beautiful as Ichigo remembered, but something about the way she was dressed implied that this might be a less formal visit than their last had been.

“Please forgive me, Kurosaki-san.” Maki bowed much deeper than Ichigo had. “I hope I am not intruding.  It’s just that…” she turned her head to one side and lowered her lashes in a move that Yuzu had categorized as totally harmless look, number 3, and actually managed to blush. “Well, it’s just that Okura-dono has been worried about how things have been going for you. He was going to send someone over to check on you to make sure that you were settling in okay and that no one at the Onmi was giving you any trouble, so I volunteered.” She gave a little shrug, “You did say you were curious about shitsuji, and I thought I could kill two birds with one stone.”

Ichigo shifted his weight slightly on his feet.  Well, this was unexpected.   On the one hand, dealing with anyone sent by Okura was a gamble, but on the other...

“Oh, that is very kind of you to offer!” He bowed again, this time a little lower and with a smile instead of his typical scowl. “As you can see, I’m fine, and everyone at the Onmi has respected my resignation, so Okura-san needn’t worry. But I really would like to ask you some questions about your training and experiences. Could we go somewhere?  Maybe talk over a cup of coffee?”

Maki gave him a slow smile—ah yes… Gotcha, look number 2.  Thank you, Yuzu!—and said, “Make it tea, and you’ve got a deal.”

Tea it was, then.

***

“Yes, and then Okura-dono tripped over the tray that I left and ended up on the floor.  I was so afraid that he was going to fire me.  I mean, that is exactly what a good shitsuji is supposed to prevent from happening.  You’re supposed to know what your master needs before he knows.  Provide everything before their request can even be formed into words.”

Ichigo laughed at the image of Okura Kagetaka falling ass-over-teakettle but couldn’t help but notice that the stories being spun for him had been carefully crafted to make Okura a sympathetic character. Kisuke might play the buffoon at times, but he would never simply stumble over an inanimate object.  Actually, he’d managed to navigate Ichigo’s bedroom—a room he’d never even seen—backwards, in the dark, and with Ichigo’s mouth all over him without bumping into a single piece of furniture or tripping over the books on the floor or the cords stretched from the wall to the bed where his tech was charging.  It was unlikely that Okura had that much less situational awareness; Kisuke would have taught him better than that.

Good thing no one expected Maki Hideko to be a reliable narrator in this story.

“So, do most people think of you as an assistant? A servant?  A member of the family?  You hear so many conflicting stories, it’s hard to know what’s realistic.”

Maki sipped her tea and looked thoughtful for a moment.

“They are all realistic in their way. You see, there are as many roles for shitsuji as there are masters.  Every employer has a different set of needs and it is the duty of the shitsuji to fill those needs.  I joined my first master when he was very young. He had inherited a fortune and a position within his family’s company but was lacking in the administrative skills necessary to run a household.  For him I was everything from an administrative assistant to a proxy hostess, making sure that gatherings went smoothly, and guests were happy.  I left his employ when he married because his wife had a long-term family retainer who filled that place for her, and she was more comfortable running things without my assistance.”

Ichigo could put two and two together.  The wife hadn’t wanted someone around who would make her look bad in comparison.  It was hard to blame her. Maki Hideko would be hard to compete with.

“Then, I worked as an assistant to the shitsuji of a family whose head was a member of the Diet.  One butler was not nearly enough to fulfill the needs of that family, but when I was offered the opportunity to move on to assist one of his associates, I jumped at the chance to run a household on my own again. That’s how I ended up with Okura-dono.”

So, Okura was an associate to a member of the Diet.  That was a little heavier than Ichigo had expected, but honestly, politicians were politicians no matter how high on the food chain.  Okura had money and leverage, two things that politicians needed more than blood or oxygen.

“The hardest part about switching employers is where you have to completely reprogram your responses to things.  You might have a master who is a stickler about your being silent until you are spoken to.  It isn’t unusual, honestly—there are lots of masters who prefer to think of their shitsuji simply as tools, efficient and always at hand, and they pay well for the privilege—but then your next station could require that you handle correspondence proactively, or handle telephone calls and invitations without running everything past your master first. It can be difficult to change gears like that.”

“I’m assuming that Okura Kagetaka isn’t one of the don’t-speak-until-spoken-to masters?” Ichigo asked.

Maki gripped her teacup tighter, and Ichigo noted that her fingernails were short and well-manicured, probably so they wouldn’t interfere with her work.  Or her fighting.

“No.  Okura-dono isn’t like that.  He is very…  progressive in his expectations. Not many women become shitsuji, and I must admit that a few have very misguided notions of how we are to behave. It has been refreshing to have a master that respects my skills and allows me to take on new responsibilities.”

Ichigo had wondered about the whole female butler thing. The Butler Café fad sweeping through the city had to affect people who wanted to be taken seriously in the role, especially women.

“He seemed like a very talented guy.” Ichigo tried to sound sincere but perplexed. “I still don’t understand why he’s so invested in this whole situation with me and the Onmi, but I’m not going to ignore kindness when I see it.”

Maki sat back in her chair a little and looked at him over her tea.  “A very wise decision, Kurosaki-san.  Kindness is a rarity in this world.”

Ichigo nodded.  “Still it almost always comes at a price.”

They sat like that in silence for a few moments before Maki set her cup on the table and turned her full attention on him.  Her eyes were dark and lovely and if Ichigo hadn’t recently developed a thing for gray eyes they might have made an impact.

“Kurosaki-san,” she said, gingerly stretching her fingers across the table’s surface towards him, never being forward enough to actually touch him, but the suggestion of it was clear.  “I know that Okuro-dono is very powerful and it must feel strange to have earned his consideration, but he wants you to trust him, to rely on him as a mentor, even.  He sees so much potential in you and feels very strongly that it is his responsibility to keep watch over you.  He has known Urahara Kisuke for more than a decade; knows how dangerous he can be.  Believe me, he will do whatever he can to keep you from Urahara’s clutches.”

Clutches?  Ichigo had to smother a laugh and hide his face in his tea.  Hopefully he just looked overwhelmed by the attentions of a pretty girl.

She was really good at this, he admitted.  Nothing she said was untrue; Okura would do whatever he could to keep Ichigo from Kisuke.  It was his motivation that was suspect.

“I don’t know what to say,” he dipped his head a little.  “I started out just trying to help a stranger, and now I’m in the middle of something that I wouldn’t even put in my novel it seems so farfetched.”

Maki shifted and suddenly her chair was a little closer.  “I’ve been wanting to ask—I hope it isn’t too forward of me—but how does someone who selflessly helps a stranger in a coffee shop have the connections that you do to the Yakuza?”

Ichigo thought about how he should explain.

“I don’t, really,” he said, and could see the disbelief settle on her face. “I mean, they’re from the neighborhood, and I’ve known a lot of them since primary school.  The guy with me the other day?  His little brother and I were in the same class.”

“My dad was a cop, so I knew better than to run with them, and my mom…  well, she died because of a turf war when I was a kid.  Total case of wrong place/wrong time plus a healthy dose of it can’t happen to me. But, between those things I ended up being the guy the local gang wanted to recruit but couldn’t.   They tried to beat it out of me a couple of times, but I just learned how to fight back, and after a while…  well, it was almost like I’d earned enough respect that they let me be.”

“But Masuda…” Maki stopped the name short, clearly trying not to call attention to the fact that she knew his name when there was no reason for her to, “the man you were with the other day.  He called you boss.”

Ichigo let her play it off.  “Yeah, Masuda calls everyone boss, except his boss.  He calls Mamushi kumichō-dono.”

That seemed to satisfy her on some level.

“I thought it was strange,” she started, and then started again.   “Okura-dono doesn’t approve of Yakuza, so it seemed a little odd…”

Ichigo smiled. “Why would a nice guy like him help out a bad guy like me?   Yeah…  not with the Yakuza.  I mean, I’ve had more than my fair share of dealings with them—you can’t ignore them—but your boss isn’t sullying his hands by helping me.”

Two pink spots appeared on Maki’s cheeks and Ichigo thought she might actually be embarrassed. “I didn’t mean anything like that, Kurosaki-san.  I apologize most humbly if it came across that way.”

Ichigo nodded. “I understand.  Believe me.  I know what I look like.  You should see how they react to me when I’m working in the wards at the hospital.  *gasp* That’s my doctor?  No!”

He held his hands up to his chest in a dramatic motion of denial, and a tiny smile quirked Maki’s lip.

“Surely not, Kurosaki-san.  I am convinced that you have the patients eating out of your hands.”

Ichigo sipped his tea and gave a mournful look.  “Oh, if only, Maki-san.  It would have made my decision to be a writer instead of a doctor much harder if that had been the case.”

“A writer,” she looked suitably doubtful, like every other person he’d ever told that to, “and how does that work?”

At this point he had no idea why they were still talking, but why not.

“Well, when I was working at the Onmi it was easy.  I basically camped out in the corner of the room and wrote all day while other people did their stuff.  Before that I had to carve out whatever time I could between class and the hospital and family time.  I spent a lot of time in coffee shops, which is what got me into this mess in the first place.”

He thought back to that day and shook his head.  “Feels like forever ago.  Weird that it’s only been what?  A month and a half?”

“Seven weeks.” The words were out of her mouth so quickly she couldn’t stop them.  “Ah, that’s what Okura-dono…” she looked like she was trying not to swallow her tongue.

Ichigo nodded, “Yeah.  That’s about right.  Time flies.”

And if that didn’t make it clear that he’d been on Okura’s radar the whole time, he was a natural brunet.

Maki sat up even straighter and smiled, all seriousness banished and her almost-flirtatious edge back. “Hopefully, because you’re having fun.”

Well, Ichigo thought as he watched her change gears, a little flirtation never hurt anyone, and returned the smile.

“Good company makes everything more fun.”

***

Good company, indeed, Kagetaka thought, as he adjusted the sound on the receiver a little.

He quickly skimmed through the notes he’d taken, pleased with the groundwork Maki’d laid.  He’d told her to take it slow because Kurosaki wasn’t as easily led as his father, but he was clearly not immune to the pretty girl’s charms.  She already had him talking about Kisuke’s work at the Onmi.

“Yeah,” the redhead was talking again, “he was always working on it, and talking to it.  He called it Yoruichi.  I guess he named it after a friend.  Maybe an old partner? I don’t know.”

Maki made a disapproving noise and Kagetaka could just imagine the delicate purse of her lips. “I don’t recognize the name, but it sounds like the program that was that was stolen from Okura-dono. The man has even less honor than I’ve been told.”

Yoruichi. Kagetaka’s lips twisted in a smile. That had to be the activation code that he needed. It was so obvious… he should have guessed. Kisuke had an enormous soft spot for the woman—but now he knew, and it didn’t matter. With the code he’d be able to activate the main routine as soon as he’d pried it out of Kisuke’s servers. Even better, his last message from Kawasaki said that the Shihoin woman’s partner was being set on a path to intercept any trouble with Mamushi.  It was going to be a lovely irony to use her partner against her. He could sow a tale of domestic troubles that would muddy the waters even more when he finally made his move.

The microphone picked up a faint noise, maybe Kurosaki doing something with his cup, and Okura waited until he started talking again.

“This whole situation is so strange.” He sounded almost defeated. Good. “After I met your boss, I went straight to Urahara and asked if what I’d been told was true. I expected denials and explanations, but he didn’t deny it at all.  He admitted straight out that he destroyed a project Okura had been working on.  Said that it was too dangerous for a private business, and that Okura should know better. But if he didn’t destroy it.  If he kept it….”  Kurosaki’s voice drifted away and Kagetaka wished he had more than just audio on the scene.  It would be nice to be able to gauge the redhead’s reactions better.

“Too dangerous?  That’s ridiculous. Okura-dono’s projects are all for the good of the people.  He wants to keep them safe.”  Maki sounded so righteous when she was defending him.  He’d clearly chosen the right person for this job. “The only people who want to stop him are the ones who lurk in the shadows and are afraid of his light. The Yakuza is afraid of him because he will expose their secrets, and Urahara hates him because he couldn’t control him or make him into a carbon-copy killer.  You are lucky to have gotten away when you did, Kurosaki-san.   The man is a menace.”

Kurosaki sighed and shifted noisily again.   “And here I thought I’d gotten better at judging people.  Maybe that’s why I like writing better than reality.  With stories I can just make things work the way I want them to.”

Kagetaka smirked.  He didn’t need to resort to fiction to have things the way he wanted them.  All he needed was time for the plans he’d put in motion would come to fruition, and Urahara Kisuke would be no more.

He picked up the phone.

“Chiaki-san,” he spoke crisply, “let Director Kawasaki know that I’ve gotten the information that he requested.  He can visit me in my office whenever he’s available, the sooner the better.”

He glanced at the clock and texted Maki-san.  Appointment scheduled.  Please adjust the calendar accordingly.

The mic crackled a little and Kagetaka heard the message notification on Maki’s phone ping.

“Oh, Kurosaki-kun,” she said, “this has been most enjoyable, but it seems my free time has come to an end.”

He could hear the shuffling as the two of them rose to their feet.

“No rest for the wicked, hmm?” Kurosaki teased and murmured something to their server.  “Thank you, then, for spending your valuable free time satisfying my curiosity.”

There was a minor scuffle as Kurosaki insisted on paying the bill, but Maki gave in with good grace.

Good girl, he thought.  Keep him on the hook a little longer.  It would be wise to keep tabs on the young man, even if he was just a pawn in the game.

“It was my pleasure, Kurosaki-san,” she said. Her bow was almost silent, only the sound of her hands whispering along the material of her slacks giving it away.  “Perhaps you will be able to use some of the information I provided in your stories.”

That was greeted with a short laugh and Kagetaka could hear the warmth in Kurosaki’s tone as he responded. “If there wasn’t a place for it already, I would make one.   It will be very useful.  Thank you.”

Kagetaka turned off the receiver and nodded. Very useful indeed.