Chapter Text
The park along the river was deserted this late at night, so there was no one to notice the streetlamp that wavered, then flared back into existence--or the girl who popped neatly on top of it seconds later.
Her hair was the same sodium yellow as the lamplight, bound in two pigtails that curled into ribbon-like ringlets defying the laws of physics. She wore a yellow mini-skirt edged with black with a white ribbon in the back, a black corset lined with white and gold, a creamy white shirt with long puffy sleeves adorned with yet more ribbons, and dark fingerless gloves. Her legs were covered by striped blue over-the-knee socks, and heeled black and gold mid-calf boots. The ensemble was completed by a golden looping hairpin in the shape of a flower perched jauntily over her ear and a dark blue cap adorned with a feathery plume.
At first glance, she appeared to be approximately fifteen, but the ramrod straight posture and the weight in her eyes was that of an experienced combat veteran, not a third-year middle school student. This impression was further heightened by the aura of brisk, but firm competence radiating from her like a beacon.
"Ah, well, that's that!" the girl said with satisfaction. Brushing her hands on her skirt, she jumped the twenty feet to the ground without hesitation and landed lightly on her feet. A golden flash enveloped her and her costume was replaced by a yellow sailor fuku and plaid skirt that confirmed her status as a Mitakihara Middle School student.
"You're the one who took out that strange Hollow just now, aren't you?"
The girl was too experienced to cry out, but she took a half-step back as she peered up in the direction of the voice. A shadowy figure stood above her on the lamp-post she had so recently vacated, staring down at her with polite but pointed curiosity.
His costume--if it was a costume--was even more outlandish than hers: an olive-green jinbei and a matching haori edged with white diamonds and old-fashioned wooden geta. What hair was visible beneath his green-and-white striped bucket hat was blond and disheveled, blocking his face with heavy bangs, though it couldn't quite hide the dark circles under his eyes. A curved-handled wooden cane tucked under his arms completed the strange ensemble.
"Familiar," the girl corrected automatically--only for the implications of his words to catch up with her. "Wait a minute. You know about--"
"You're very skilled, you know," the man said smoothly as he stepped off the lamp-post into the air and picked his way to the ground with deliberate ease. "It's rare to meet anyone so young with such control."
The girl blushed. "I've--I've only been doing this for two years, but I've had plenty of practice--"
"Two years, huh?" he said in admiration. "So you're not the one who's been messing about with time, then?"
"Huh? I don't understand what you're talking about," the girl said. She recovered her poise enough to stand her ground as the man approached, though the wariness was still in her eyes. "Who are you, anyway, and what are you doing here? And how do you know about"--she waved a hand to indicate their surroundings--"this."
"My name is Kisuke Urahara," he said. "These days I'm a humble candy store owner. However, like you, I wear a number of different hats." He patted his own with an affectionate laugh, before continuing on in a more serious tone. "Every now and then I get called in as a--consultant, you could say--for spiritual problems."
"'Spiritual problems'?" she repeated skeptically.
Urahara chuckled. "In a manner of speaking. There's been a series of anomalies here in Mitakihara, and I'm here to get to the bottom of it. If they don't stop, the entire world could be in danger."
"I don't know what you're talking about," the girl said briskly. "But," she added as an afterthought, "there have been a lot of strange things happening lately."
And just like that, she'd come around. She didn't trust him, exactly, but whatever oddities she'd experienced had colored her opinion enough to at least give him the benefit of the doubt. Urahara was far too skilled to reject the opening she'd given him.
"I am happy to explain the situation in more detail," he said, glancing around at the deserted park. "But perhaps a more private spot than shouting in public like this? One with refreshments, perhaps? Tea?"
"Yes," the girl said with a firm nod. "I'd like that very much."
***
Mami Tomoe knelt in seiza on the tatami mat beside the low table, contemplating her surroundings with interest as she sipped the tea that Mr. Tsubakishi had laid out for her.
Even before meeting Mr. Urahara in the park, it had been a most eventful night. After saying good-bye to Kaname and Miki--the two potential magical girl candidates Kyubey had selected--Mami had continued to her hunt for witches on her own, only to be confronted by Homura Akemi and her cryptic threats. Mami had walked away before they had come to blows, but she doubted the other girl, so thoroughly steeped in her own self-righteousness, would heed the warning to stay away for good.
More irritated by the encounter than she was willing to admit, Mami had intended to go back to her apartment and sleep. But then she'd felt the unmistakable tug of another familiar in the park along the river and had no choice but to investigate. She'd dispatched the creature with ease before it could harm anyone--and now found herself face to face with an entirely new mystery on her hands.
In her two years as a magical girl, Mami had patrolled Mitakihara every night--sometimes even during the day in emergencies. She knew all the secret nooks and crannies where tourists and ordinary citizens never went, down to isolated back alleys and the seediest corners of the red-light district. She would swear up and down that this particular courtyard, with its run-down little shop and handwritten sign proclaiming "URAHARA CANDY STORE", hadn't been there a week ago.
"It wasn't," Mr. Urahara confessed cheerfully when she confronted him about this. "Normally, we're based out in Karakura, but commuting back and forth every day would have been such a bother. So instead I decided to temporarily relocate! Don't you like it?"
Before Mami could gather her wits enough to respond, he threw open the sliding doors and swept her inside. "Jinta! Ururu! Tessai! I'm home! And I brought a guest!" he added, almost as an afterthought.
The shop itself was extremely small, crammed into the genkan of what appeared to be a traditional Japanese home with raised tatami floors and sliding shoji leading off to the rooms beyond. A makeshift aisle formed by a row tiered shelves on either side of the room were packed with a bizarre array of merchandise that Mami supposed must be candy, though none of it belonged to any brands she recognized.
With casual ease, the proprietor stepped out of his geta and onto the tatami. Mami hung back, uncertain as to whether she should follow his lead until he gestured her forward with a hearty laugh and a wave. "Come up, come up, Miss Tomoe! Make yourself at home!"
"Thank you for having me," Mami said, automatic politeness kicking in. She extricated her feet from her shoes and joined him on the platform in her stocking feet.
"Now, let's see what Jinta and Ururu are up to," Mr. Urahara said, rubbing his hands together.
As if on cue, the shoji screen along the back wall slammed open and two children stampeded in to greet them. One was a dark-haired girl who shied back when she caught sight of a stranger; the other--a red-haired boy a few years younger--with no such shortage of confidence as he pointed an accusing finger straight into Mami's face.
"What's she doing here?" the boy demanded, reminding Mami so much of Kyouko in that moment that she was too startled to respond. "Customers shouldn't be here now. Doesn't she know we're closed?"
"Now, now, Jinta-kun, Miss Tomoe isn't a customer--she's our guest," Mr. Urahara said. "Besides, it's rude to point. Miss Tomoe, this is Jinta and Ururu."
"Nice to meet you," Mami said, still running on autopilot. She hadn't expected Mr. Urahara would have children of his own, but clearly he was full of surprises.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Tomoe," Ururu said, bowing her head politely. "Welcome to the Urahara Candy Shop."
Jinta turned his scorn on his companion, grabbing her shoulder. "Idiot! The boss just said she wasn't a customer!" He shot Mami a look of pure disgust. "Never mind, it's time for Cazh Soul to start. See you later, house guest."
He exited back the way he had come, dragging Ururu in his wake. The shoji screen slammed and all was quiet for a moment as Mami stared after them.
"Oh, don't let his behavior fool you," Mr. Urahara said with a laugh. "Jinta's usually not so nice to strangers. I think he has a little crush on you~~~. "
Mami would never, ever, in a thousand lifetimes understand the minds of school-age boys. "If you say so," she managed.
Despite the noise emanating from the TV that carried through the thin paper walls--not to mention Jinta's enthusiastic sing-a-long with the opening theme--the presence of children in the house made Mami let go of a tension she hadn't realized she'd been carrying. She had spent enough time patrolling late at night in her school uniform outside of bars and clubs in the seedier parts of Mitakihara to be thoroughly acquainted with both unwanted male attention and the swift and necessary responses to it. She hadn't been afraid of anything untoward from Mr. Urahara, but the fact that he was a grown man who knew about magic and spirits was enough to make her wary. But he didn't seem like the type to invite her into his home before attacking her, especially not if his own children were playing nearby.
Mami's initial impression deepened even further when a black cat with golden eyes stalked regally into the room and Mr. Urahara completely lost his mind. He swung the cat around, clutching it to his chest and chattering in high-pitched baby talk about their dramatic reunion. The cat, though clearly not happy with the situation, bore its fate with remarkable grace and stoicism--perhaps resigned to its master's eccentricities by now.
Mami didn't know what business had brought Mr. Urahara and his bizarre establishment to Mitakihara, but anyone who liked cats so much couldn't be all bad.
Said cat--Yoruichi?--brushed against Mami's knees now with a demanding mew, as if sensing her train of thought. Mami obliged automatically, stroking the soft fur, and Yoruichi jumped into her lap, purring furiously in satisfaction.
"I trust you are enjoying your tea, Miss Tomoe?" Mr. Tsukabishi said as he re-entered the room. He set with his tray--laden with tiny cakes in the shape of cartoon rabbits and ducks--onto the table next to the tea service he had laid out for her a few minutes earlier.
"Y-yes, of course," Mami stammered, aware she was staring at him again.
In her defense, Mr. Tsubakishi was striking: a brown-skinned, muscular giant of a man, with bulging muscles visible beneath his white t-shirt and khaki slacks. His dark hair was tightly coiled in neat cornrows and he also sported a glossy handlebar mustache and long sideburns. Opaque rectangular glasses blocked his eyes, adding an air of severity. Despite his imposing physical presence, however, his speech was highly formal and his manners were so polite it was impossible to be nervous around him for long.
"Ah, I see you and Yoruichi-san have become fast friends," Mr. Urahara said, as he settled down across the table from Mami. "Tessai, would you mind putting Jinta and Ururu to bed after Cazh Soul is over? Miss Tomoe and I may be some time."
Mr. Tsubakishi bowed. "Of course, boss," he nodded, and left, shutting the shoji behind him on his way out.
(It was a little odd for two men to live together, Mami thought, but maybe Mr. Tsubakishi or Mr. Urahara had a wife she hadn't met yet?)
Mr. Urahara favored Mami with a winning smile. "So, Miss Tomoe, I'm sure you have no end of questions for me."
"Well, yes--" Who are you? How is it an adult can have magic--and a man, at that? What do you know about witches? What are you *really* after here in Mitakihara? But the question that came out was, "Why have I never seen anyone like you before?"
Her voice wavered and she cursed herself for letting her loneliness seep in to what was supposed to be a simple question from someone who hadn't yet earned her trust. Still, it wasn't like she had very many people to talk to--about anything, really, let alone magic--over the last two years. For a while there had been Kyouko to watch her back, but--
Mami shook herself, trying to stay focused on the conversation at hand. If there were other people out there who knew about witches--who could use magic--then maybe she didn't have to be so alone...
"Excellent question!" Mr. Urahara agreed with a nod. "You've never seen my little shop because, as I mentioned earlier, we recently relocated from Karakura. For reasons that are still unclear to me, there hasn't been much of shinigami presence in Mitakihara in the last few decades--which is why you are unfamiliar with our operations."
"Shinigami?" Mami's mind raced. Soul Reaper. "You mean, you're--dead?"
"Technically, yes," Mr. Urahara said cheerfully. "Though I should point out that we at the Urahara Candy Store are not directly affiliated with the main shinigami bureaucracy in Soul Society--more like independent contractors, if you will."
Contractors. That got her attention. "So you've also made a contract with Kyubey?"
Mr. Urahara regarded her for a long moment without blinking. "Who is Kyubey?" he said at last.
That was a no, Mami realized, her face reddening.
"He's--" What was Kyubey, anyway? She'd spent two years off and on with the fluffy creature as a guide and companion, yet she knew so little about him. "--a friend," she finished lamely. "The one who grants magical girls a wish in exchange for protecting ordinary people from witches."
"I see," Mr. Urahara said, his eyes narrowing. He didn't move, but the energy in the room intensified--calm enough on the surface, but edgy and restless beneath, as if a storm was about to break.
Mami took a sip of tea, wondering if she'd said the wrong thing and he was going to attack her after all.
Kyubey had never mentioned shinigami before. Mr. Urahara didn't seem to know about him--or about magical girls in general--so perhaps the ignorance was mutual. But Mami was so used to relying on Kyubey that the implication that he had blind spots made her extremely nervous about what she might be up against now.
The cat on Mami's lap got up, yawned, and stretched, seemingly oblivious to the rising tension. Then it opened its mouth, and said in a deep raspy voice, "Come on, Kisuke, tone down the reiatsu a little. Can't you see you're scaring her?"
Mami's jaw dropped. Cats can't talk! she thought absurdly.
Then again, she'd spent the last two years with a telepathic creature ordinary people couldn't see as her closest companion. Was it really so strange that Mr. Urahara had a magical friend of his own? Maybe shinigami made their arrangements with cats instead of beings like Kyubey--
--and it was increasing clear Mr. Urahara wasn't as eccentric as Mami had initially assumed.
"Yoruichi-san! How delightful of you to grace us with your wisdom!" Mr. Urahara said, without missing a beat. The oppressive weight vanished as quickly as it had arisen. "My apologies, Miss Tomoe, I meant no offense. Please do explain this contract of yours in more detail."
Mami did her best, skirting around the circumstances that had led to her contract in the first place. Mr. Urahara listened intently, never contradicting her or rejecting her experiences in the way she'd come to expect from adults. Yoruichi occasionally interjected with a thoughtful question of his own, and Mami quicklygot used to including him in their conversation.
"May I see your soul gem?" Mr. Urahara asked, when Mami trailed off at last. Mr. Tsubakishi must have made good on his promise to put Ururu and Jinta to bed; the whole house was eerily silent without the echo of canned and real laughter from the other room.
Mami manifested the source of her power from the ring on her hand, letting the golden egg-shaped jewel roll across her palm. She did not offer it to Mr. Urahara, and to his credit, he did not ask to touch it.
"So, it's like a zanpakutou then," Mr. Urahara said after a moment of careful scrutiny from across the table. "But--incomplete."
Soul-cutter sword. Another phrase she had never heard before. "What do you mean, 'incomplete'?" she added, not sure whether to be offended.
"It's--" Mr. Urahara paused, considering his words carefully. "Every shinigami has a weapon that is a reflection of their soul--usually, but not always a sword. They use it to purify spirits and send them onto the afterlife, among other things. It seems what this Kyubey does when making the contract is to allow you to manifest something similar while you are still inhabiting your human body. And as for 'incomplete', well--does your soul gem have a name?"
"No, of course not," Mami said. She restored the gem to its ring form, glancing up sharply as a question occurred to her. "Do you have a zanpakutou, Mr. Urahara?"
The cat chuckled, although there was only so much magic could only do for feline vocal cords and it came as a raspy cough. "She's got your number, Kisuke."
"I'm afraid mine's not as... nice... as yours," Mr. Urahara said quietly. He looked pointedly at the cane resting across his lap, then tugged at the handle, exposing a few centimeters of glinting silver from the blade hidden within. A distinctly feminine aura permeated the room, along with the coppery taste of blood in Mami's mouth--only to vanish as the sword disappeared back into its sheath.
"Benihime is quite the show-off," Mr. Urahara added by way of explanation.
"Wait, so your sword--is a person?"
Mr. Urahara regarded her impassively. "As with any relationship, you'll find that your power grows if you take the time to learn your zanpakutou's name. Didn't this Kyubey explain that?"
Mami wasn't sure what shocked her more--his matter-of-fact incredulity, or the fact that Kyubey might have deliberately withheld information from her. Surely he would have told her if Soul Gems had names! No doubt shinigami magic was very different from her own, and it was foolish to expect anything to carry over so neatly.
Some of her skepticism must have shown through her polite mask, because Mr. Urahara said, "Well, Miss Tomoe, I am happy to learn more about your soul gem if you choose to share your knowledge with me. But it's already quite late--no doubt your family will be wondering where you've been all this time."
Mami's eyes burned. "N-no," she managed, annoyed at herself for letting his assumptions get to her so easily. "My parents are dead. I--live alone."
"Oh, dear, my deepest condolences," Mr. Urahara said. "My apologies for stirring up what are obviously painful memories."
"I should go home," Mami said, still in a daze. Too much had happened all at once, and she yearned for the familiarity of solid ground and routine after so much upheaval. "I appreciate your hospitality, but I'll see my own way out. Thank you very much for the tea," she added, lest he think her ungrateful. "Please tell Mr. Tsubakishi that his cookies were delicious."
"Of course," Mr. Urahara agreed. "Please know you are always welcome here at the shop, Miss Tomoe, at any time of the day or night. And if you do come across anything strange in Mitakihara on your witch hunts, I'd certainly appreciate hearing about it."
"All right," Mami dipped her head in acknowledgement."But you should know you are technically in my territory, and I don't take kindly to unnecessary interference."
She half-expected him to laugh--most men did when they were told off by a fifteen-year-old girl--but Mr. Urahara didn't even crack a smile. "Of course, Miss Tomoe," he said with a deep bow. "I would expect no less from someone as dedicated and conscientious as you are."
Mami held out a hand to Yoruichi, who sniffed it appreciatively, and rubbed his chin against her knuckles as if to scratch an itch. "Nice to meet you, Yoruichi-san," she said. "Perhaps we can talk more on my next visit?"
She was going to come back, she realized as the words left her mouth without conscious thought. She had far too many unanswered questions to leave it at that. After she'd had a good night's sleep and recovered her bearings, she'd come back to the shop tomorrow and get to the bottom of all this--
"Perhaps," the cat demurred. "I have very busy schedule, you know--so many naps and so little time. But perhaps I could make an exception if you were, say, to bring treats with you--"
Mami hid her smile as best she could. It was reassuring to know that cats were still cats, even when they could talk.
Maybe especially when they could talk.
***
Urahara was far too wired to sleep by the time Mami Tomoe departed, pacing back and forth across the tatami in lieu of rest. There was so much to think about, so much they'd overlooked until now--her mere existence was a giant question mark he still didn't fully understand.
The one good thing about the unofficial nature of his investigation was that Soul Society wasn't calling the shots. The last thing he needed was the usual hamfisted, bungling approach from the military, one that would scare off a girl like Mami Tomoe from providing any information at all.
As if on cue, his soul phone rang. Urahara fished the device out of his sleeve, taking care to check the caller ID before accepting the call.
"Hello, hello?" he said in his fakest, most agressively cheerful voice. "Urahara Kisuke speaking. How are you today, Akon-pin?"
The current third seat of Twelfth Squad and the Vice-President of the Shinigami Research and Development Institute sighed wearily on the other end of the line. "This isn't a social call, Urahara. Status report, please."
"That's because there's nothing to report," Urahara said, still obnoxiously upbeat. "My people and I are settled in Mitakihara, and I'm investigating several leads, but nothing's panned out yet."
"Well, let me know as soon as you find anything," Akon said. "Captain Kurotsuchi remains unconvinced that the problem exists, but as far as I can tell, there's been no change in the sensor readings. If anything, it's getting worse."
"I understand," Urahara said, all levity gone. His enunciation when he spoke again was crisp and polite, without any hint of affected childishness. "Thank you for your understanding, Mr. Akon. One way or another, the situation should reveal itself very soon."
"I hope so," Akon said. "The last thing we need is for space-time to collapse completely because some unknown enemy is meddling with it."
"Oh, I don't think whoever is responsible is our enemy. At least not yet," Urahara said grimly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm not sure yet. Good-night, Mr. Akon." He hung up before the third-seat could get another word in.
Stowing the phone back in his sleeve, he tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and contemplated his options.
Akon had first noticed the distortions in Mitakihara last week while analyzing long-term data from the SRDI's real-time monitors in the world of the living. He'd immediately reported his findings to Mayuri Kurotsuchi--only to be dismissed by the Twelfth Division captain as "unimportant" and "irrelevant" with "insufficient data" to support his "irrational hypotheses".
Alarmed by his superior's intransigence in the face of what appeared to be a potentially dangerous situation, Akon had taken the unusual liberty of stepping outside the chain of command. As Kurostuchi's predecessor--and someone who had been exiled from Soul Society in part due to meddling with forbidden kido--Urahara was the logical choice.
"Are you responsible for this?" Akon said bluntly at the start of that first phone call, cutting straight to chase.
"No," Urahara said absently, sifting through the third-seat's charts and maps on his phone with increasing interest.
"Damn." There was a pause over the line as Akon mulled the possibilities over in his head. "Then who is it?" he said at last.
Urahara was wondering the same thing. "I don't know. But I'll look into it."
"Quietly," Akon said firmly. "And if anything big comes up that requires the captain's attention, this conversation never happened."
"But of course."
Right now, the intrusions were small and subtle enough for even a scientist of Kurotsuchi's caliber to dismiss as random fluctuations or equipment errors. The problem was that if Akon was right, these distortions could expand exponentially without warning--and once such a dramatic rip appeared, it would be all but impossible to stabilize it without a major intervention.
So here he was in Mitakihara to investigate the situation directly. And who should he encounter on a late-night stroll around the city than a magical girl with mysterious secrets of her own? Kurotsuchi's lack of involvement might well prove to be a blessing in disguise.
The last time Urahara had thrown himself into a situation with so many unknown variables was six months earlier, at the height of the Winter War against Aizen. For all the chaos in the Fake Karakura Town, the actual mechanics had been extremely simple: toss every possible weapon--including Ichigo Kurosaki--long enough to distract Aizen from Urahara's true agenda.
He sighed. The only problem with that strategy was that Kurosaki had been forced to sacrifice his shinigami powers in the process. Soul Society was at work on a solution--including Captain Kurotsuchi, which might explain his complete disinterest in Akon's data--but there was no guarantee it would work. Kurosaki's loss might well be permanent.
"Still rolling in residual guilt over the Kurosaki situation, eh?" Yoruichi drawled from behind him. Even with his eyes completely closed, he could tell from the smugness in her voice that she was human again and utterly unselfconscious in her nudity, as if daring him to peek.
She knew him so well. "Of course. Just because it was necessary to defeat Aizen doesn't mean it wasn't unfortunate." He pushed his conscience aside and changed the subject without addressing the obvious bait. "What did you think of our guest tonight? You must have liked her or else you wouldn't have intervened like that when I pushed her. Though I do think you went a little overboard on your plea for treats."
Yoruichi's smugness deepened. "Of course I like her. Third or fourth seat as is, and almost entirely self-taught. I bet with a little training we could have her up to lieutenant-class in no time. And who can resist this beautiful face of mine, anyway?"
"She's not the anomaly we're looking for, but she may know something about it," Urahara agreed thoughtfully. "I intrigued her enough with talk of zanpakutou that she'll return, and we'll have a chance to keep picking her brain for information. And she may let slip important details with you that she won't admit to me."
Yoruichi sighed. "That ring--Soul Gem--whatever it was--was weird, Kisuke. I've never seen any zanpakutou like it before. It looked more like a piece of soul candy-- except that it's capable of granting at least one wish, like the Hougyoku--"
"So you noticed that, too."
"Of course. And the news that there's this--creature--out there who just makes those things willy-nilly out of girls' souls--" She made a feline mew of disgust. "I don't like it."
"And here you thought this trip to Mitakihara was going to be boring," Urahara teased, opening his eyes to admire her at last.
She leered back at him with a pointed smile. "Boring? With you? Never."