Ties of Blood

a/n: For some reason, I'm really in love with the idea of these two being siblings. It's starting to show up everywhere in my writings. lol. Still, I'm pretty fond of this ficlet series as well. There is more to come, so I hope you enjoy!

Big thanks to my reviewers who give me a reason to keep posting this smut-less fic here on aff.net. Thanks to Kuromei, Ranna, and Emyrei!

Oh! And keep in mind that this part is several years later from the previous one.

Ties of Blood
Part Two

Yoruichi woke to the feeling of a familiar hand on her head, stroking gently over her hair. She stirred slowly, the crick in her arms and neck reminding her that she had slept in her mother's room again, still sitting in the chair and leaned over on the bed.

“Yoruichi.”

Fighting back a yawn, the Shihouin heir rose completely, wincing when her muscles protested. “Okaa-sama?”

Her mother looked back at her, pale and drawn from her lingering sickness. “You shouldn't sleep like that, dear heart. It's uncomfortable.” Her smile was tight and weak, even as she dropped her hand back to the comforter.

Yoruichi rolled her neck in an attempt to ease out the kinks. “I know. But I don't want you to be alone either.” She made a face, thinking unfavorably of her father. “Otou-sama hasn't been to see you in a week, despite knowing that...” she trailed off, unable to say the truth aloud.

Her mother was dying, and Yoruichi didn't want to admit it. The recent years had been hard on Kaori, who was bit by bit wasting away. She never fully recovered from her last pregnancy and had been remanded entirely to bed rest.

“Your otou-sama is a very busy man,” her mother attempted, but her words fell on deaf ears. Yoruichi had long lost her admiration of her father, who was a changed man after her brother's death.

She snorted, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “He's not that busy,” Yoruichi muttered stubbornly. “He could come see you if he wanted.”

If he wanted.

Her words echoed in the silence and solitude of her mother's chambers. It wasn't long now, the doctor had claimed. There was no explanation for her mother's sickness, no cause or cure. They didn't know what was wrong. She was just slowly dying, succumbing to some inner malignancy that tore her apart from within. Weaker and weaker with each day, she had already lost the radiance that had been so familiar to Yoruichi.

Her mother looked at her, golden eyes dim and saddened. “Yoruichi… you mustn't be angry with your otou-sama. There is much you do not know.”

Yoruichi blew air out of her mouth, rolling her eyes. “I know all I need to know. What's important.” She flopped forward, balancing her chin on her palm and her elbow on the bed as she glared at the far wall. Yet, the girl failed to catch her mother's wince and was surprised when she felt Kaori's too thin fingers reach for hers.

“You do not know this.”

At the unexpected and grave tone her mother had taken, Yoruichi looked up, Kaori's fingers curling around her own. “Okaa-sama?”

Her mother squeezed her hand. “I must admit a falsity, Yoruichi. I am afraid that I lied to you many years ago. At the time, you were simply too young to understand the truth.”

The Shihouin heir blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Her mother had lied to her? When and where? About what?

She watched as Kaori drew in a slow breath, gathering up what limited strength she held. “Your otouto did not die that day,” her mother explained softly as Yoruichi's eyes widened in absolute surprise. “Your otou-sama wanted nothing to do with a child that wasn't his, so he sent your otouto away.”

Yoruichi wasn't sure how to respond. Her brother – or to be more precise her half-brother – was still alive. Her parents had known this. And yet, Yoruichi had been fed a lie. It hurt for reasons she couldn't understand, a sharp pain stabbing through her chest.

Even more, to learn of the strain between her parents was also unexpected. She had always known that their marriage was one of political convenience, that her mother would’ve undoubtedly chosen differently if given half the chance. Still, she had wanted to believe that her parents held some affection for one another. Any child would have wanted to believe such a thing.

“Your otou-sama is a great man,” Kaori continued, as if reading the questions that weighed heavily on her daughter's mind. “Even so, my heart ached for another. Urahara Takuya saw me for the woman I am, not the connections and wealth a Kasumioji would bring him.” Her expression was wistful and longing. Voice full of affection. Full of love.

Yoruichi listened with utter astonishment, unsure what to think. She loved her mother dearly, and the truth of her infidelity should shock Yoruichi or at least bring anger on her father's behalf. Instead, she felt a gripping sorrow. Her mother was dying. There was no point in making an issue of a deed long past that had nothing to do with her in the first place. And it appeared her mother had suffered enough for it. Had suffered long before it had even occurred.

She swallowed through an unidentifiable lump in her throat and took her mother's pale hand between both of her own. “Did you love him?” She didn't know why she asked, only that she felt she had to know. It seemed important to her, as though a loveless affair was somehow more terrible than one that held meaning.

Her mother's eyes – the same shade as her own – glistened with relief. “I do. Though you are still number one in my heart, dearest.”

Yoruichi's smile was thin and brittle, the comment warming her only slightly. “And my otouto?”

That was asked with hope. Despite only sharing half of her blood, Yoruichi wanted to know more of her only sibling. She wanted to meet him. Even more now that she knew he lived. The manor was large, lifeless, and lonely. Though Yoruichi would never admit the last aloud. It would be giving voice to her weakness, which a Shihouin should not do.

“He is well,” Kaori assured her, pausing for a moment to cough into a plain but no doubt expensive handkerchief. “His father accepted him immediately. They reside in the third district of Rukongai.”

It was not that far, Yoruichi immediately realized. And there was no one who knew the secret passages of the manor better than she. It would be a simple matter to slip in and out with the shadows.

As if sensing her daughter's intentions, Kaori lifted her free hand and cupped Yoruichi's cheek. “I told you so you would know, my dearest love, but you mustn't go looking for him. Your otou-sama would be very angry.” Her palms were perfectly smooth and soft despite her illness, stroking her daughter’s face.

“Why?”

The look in her mother's eyes was pained, speaking of an uncountable sorrow. “To him, Kisuke is a child who should have never been born.”

“Kisuke?” Yoruichi repeated brightly, consigning that name to her memory. It was a good name. She liked it. Bright but mischievous. Just like she hoped he was.

Kaori inclined her head and released her hold to leaning back into the confines of her bed. She seemed even smaller against the elegant frills and lace. Faded and fragile, a wounded doll. Not for the first time did Yoruichi wonder what kind of life her mother must have lived. If her father had ever even loved her at all. If she had ever been more than a means to an heir. And a female one at that.

She had always been so cheerful and teasing, eyes dancing with amusement. She had always played games with Yoruichi, her solace when lessons became too much and she only wanted to be a little girl. Now, she was solemn and quiet, which disappointed Yoruichi greatly. She missed her mother's sunny smile. She missed her light and laughter.

“Minamoto-san is kind enough to watch over them for me since I am unable to do so myself.” There was grief in her tone, as well as a hefty dose of regret.

Yoruichi remembered that her mother had never had the chance to hold her son before he had been torn from her and sent away. Even if the child hadn't been his, it was cruel of her father to do that. Kaori's heart was aching for her second child, who she had only ever glimpsed once. Perhaps it was that grief which was killing her. The knowledge that she had a child she would never see. That her daughter had a brother she would never meet.

“I want to see him,” Yoruichi murmured more to herself than to her mother. In the back of her mind, she could only see the small form, head crowned with light hair. She wished she knew more.

Her mother sighed, worried for her daughter's recklessness and occasional disregard for authority. “Do not disobey your otou-sama, Yoruichi. Do not drag them into this life.”

Yoruichi wanted to argue otherwise, but her mother's limited strength was already failing her. She was as white as her sheets, nearly invisible against the cloth. Were it not for the startling gold of her eyes and hair. Once brilliant but now dulled with sickness. She had lost the vivacity of life, reduced to a shallow husk of a woman.

No, she would not argue. But Yoruichi could not promise either. She cared little for what would anger her father. Infidelity or not, he should at least come to visit Kaori. She was his wife. The mother of his precious daughter. His only child. Surely, that counted for something in his cold, noble heart.

She rose from her chair and leaned against the bed, pressing a gentle kiss to her mother's smooth cheek. “Get some rest, okaa-sama. You are straining yourself. I will be here.”

Kaori's smile was weak yet precious. “You are kind, dearest. Never lose that. Never be anything but what you are. Do not let them take that from you.” It sounded even more like she was saying goodbye.

But Yoruichi wasn't ready to let go.

She especially did not like the weakness in her mother's voice. “I won't,” Yoruichi promised. “Rest now.” She clasped the slim, chilled hand tightly between her own.

Thin fingers weakly squeezed hers. “As you command, Yoru-chan. I love you.”

“I love you, okaa-sama.” She set a gentle kiss against her mother's palm, feeling a sob catch in her throat. It threatened to steal her words.

Kaori breathed out, her eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion took her. She seemed to melt into the softness of the bed, a trace of sadness still evident in her slack expression. She still seemed so young to be struck with such an affliction.

Yoruichi swallowed thickly, recognizing her mother's words for what they were. Her last. Heat burned at the back of her eyes as she held onto Kaori's hand. As if by doing so, she could keep life in that frail, grief-stricken body.

Yoruichi did not want to be left alone, but her mother did not wake again.

In Shihouin manor, it was Yoruichi who grieved the most for Kaori's passing. Her father was an impenetrable black of stone, impassive as his wife slipped away during the night. Yoruichi never once saw him cry. She shed enough tears for the both of them, though most were in the privacy of her lonely quarters.

A Shihouin was strong. Unbreakable. She did not show her emotion or weakness. Yoruichi's grief was heavy, and in the following weeks and months, she missed her mother's gentle words and teasing nature. She no longer had a refuge in the stark sterility of the manor.

But even that wasn’t enough to conquer her defiance.

Yoruichi penned a letter in secret, short but full of apology. No doubt Urahara-san would eventually hear of Kaori's death through rumors and news. Yoruichi wanted it to be more personal than that, given the connection between them. The love that Kaori felt until her dying moments. Yoruichi expressed her condolences where others could not, entrusting Minamoto-san and no one else with the delivery of the letter.

She hated that Kisuke would never get to know their mother.

After Kaori's death, the distance between she and her father only widened. Sujin threw himself into the family affairs, and Yoruichi devoted herself to her duties and her studies. Her father's vigilant eyes left her little room to do otherwise. Even if she wanted to slip out, she was unable to do so. She watched Rukongai from a high window, wondering if she could see Kisuke's home from her precarious perch.

Her younger brother was never far from her thoughts. In Kaori's absence, it was Yoruichi to whom Minamoto-san brought news. Thanks to him, she was kept aware of the Urahara family. She heard and saw her sibling grow through Minamoto's eyes, but it was never enough.

Time passed as Yoruichi herself aged, enduring lesson upon lesson to prepare her for the Shihouin mantle and her position among the Gotei 13, as well as leadership of the Onmitsukidoh. Etiquette and economics, politics and power, all were interwoven into mindless teachings. She only enjoyed the other arts – hakudo, kendo, kidoh, and the like. But even that pleasure faded after repeated, relentless practice.

Sujin's death shocked everyone, including Yoruichi, who was nothing but distant from her father. He had always seemed so strong and unbeatable. She didn't understand how Shihouin Sujin could have met his end at the claws of an odd Hollow. He and his entire guard were slaughtered, the Huge Hollow which was usually not seen outside of Hueco Mundo requiring the interference of three captains of the Gotei 13. One would almost say that it was a random event. Isolated. Unnatural.

Yoruichi didn't know what to think.

But despite its supposed strength, it was still a meager Hollow. Not even a Menos. She could not comprehend how it could possibly destroy her father and his guard. Perhaps he was distracted. Maybe they were taken by surprise. She would never know the truth because none had survived with the details.

Just like that, the burden and responsibility of the Shihouin clan fell on her shoulders. It felt too heavy, but Yoruichi had her pride. Her determination. She would persevere. She would lead the life her position dictated.

But Yoruichi never forgot.

-------------

Kisuke laughed, nearly tripping over his own feet and his geta by proxy as he ran for the escaping ball. In a moment of desperation, he kicked off the footwear and ran barefoot across the dusty road, chasing the colorful piece of rubber. Behind him, his friends were laughing and cheering him on.

The ball rolled out into the main street, and Kisuke had to duck around one of the passing adults. His arms reached out, stretching for the striped sphere, when it collided with another person and came to an abrupt halt. Kisuke was unable to stop his dive and crashed into the dirt, dust billowing around him.

“Owww,” he complained, getting a mouthful of dirt and scraping his knee on a random rock. He felt his fingers touch the tip of the ball before he spied someone reach down and to lift it from the ground. Gaping a bit, Kisuke followed the path of the ball. He stared.

It was a girl of all things! And she was grinning at him, twirling the toy on one of her fingers. Her eyes were pretty, a nice golden color. Warm like the sun.

“You lose something?” the girl asked, tossing the ball from hand to hand.

Kisuke scrambled to his feet, ignoring the dirt that covered his front. Tou-chan was going to be annoyed, but that was alright. He never really got angry. Kisuke was rarely yelled at for much of anything. All of his friends were envious.

He grinned up at the girl. “That's mine,” he replied and heard the footsteps of his friends – like a herd of cows – coming up behind him. “Or ours really. Can we have it back?”

She threw the ball into the air, catching it again with ease. “Do you mind if I join you? I'm pretty good at it.”

“Aww. A girl? No way!” one of Kisuke's friends protested, wrinkling his nose.

“Are you sure?” The ball flew towards the sky with an elaborate twirl, and the girl stuck out her foot, bouncing the rubber easily along it.

Kisuke was awed. None of them could do something that cool. Not even Satsosumi, the most agile of them. Who cared if she was a girl! She had skills!

Thrusting his shoulders back proudly, Kisuke loudly declared, “She's on my team.” Very neatly solving the little issue of her joining them once and for all.

A chorus of “no fair” and “no way” echoed behind him, the boys expressing their jealousy by complaining of foul play. They hadn't wanted her to play, but damn if Kisuke could have her skills either. It just wasn't right.

The girl laughed, twirling the bright rubber on the tip of one finger. “I'm Yoruichi,” she introduced, standing at least good head taller than the boys crowding around her. “What's the game?”

“No game,” Kisuke countered boldly, the unspoken leader of their little gang. His grey eyes shone with confidence, despite the heat of the sun beaming down on them. “No rules either. We make them up as we go.”

He raked a hand over blond hair, giving her a defiant look. And then, he swiped the back of it over his forehead. Dirt dust smeared with the sweat. But his eyes never left the ball, determined to get it back in his possession. He'd worked hard to make that ball. He wasn't going to let some girl keep it.

The girl – Yoruichi – smiled. “Sounds like my kind of game.” She tossed the ball to her other hand, and Kisuke grabbed his chance.

He leapt into the air, batting the rubber sphere away from her hold. Behind Yoruichi, Sasuke deftly caught the ball and sprinted away, causing a stampede of boys to chase after him. Kisuke had a moment to smirk at the girl – which she returned – before he went running after the ball, too. He scooped up his earlier discarded geta along the way, his dad would be angry if he lost them.

Yoruichi's footsteps were barely audible as she followed along after them, easily joining the rule-less game. Kisuke had the distinct impression that he could hear her only because she wanted him to. He wondered who she was. He'd never seen anyone like her before.

And then, idle wonderings were cast aside in favor of fun and games. The waning hours of daylight were spent embroiled in a dirty, messy game of Keep Away. Or their version of it to be more precise. No doubt his dad would be annoyed by the amount of dust caked into Kisuke's clothes. At least that girl was getting just as dirty.

When sunset came so did many summons from their families. Kisuke's friends were forced to go home, leaving the ever-important ball in his hands. He noticed that Yoruichi made no moves to depart, even after the last of the boys – Kenshin – had waved goodbye. She lingered at his side, idly tying her hair back up into its high if small ponytail.

Kisuke regarded her curiously, fascinated by the shortness of her purple-tinted hair. “Don’t you have to go home, too?” he asked as he tucked the ball under one arm. His geta returned to his feet, giving him a couple more inches until he stood just below her chin.

She shook her head, patting a few billows of dust from her form-fitting clothes. “Not just yet,” Yoruichi replied cheerily.

Kisuke considered this. “You should come home with me then,” he suggested, free hand snapping out and grabbing hers. A strange shiver of something pushed against his skin when he touched her, but Kisuke just dismissed it as static. “Tou-san would love to meet you.”

She laughed, allowing him to drag her along. “That's just your curiosity.”

He couldn't refute her statement because it was true. Kisuke was curious by nature. He liked to know things. And if he didn't know, he wanted to learn. The more he understood, the more he could create. The urge to design, to build burned in his blood.

Luckily, they weren't far from his house. One street over, the sign for the Urahara shop came into view. Kyouya-san was sweeping off the stoop as usual, and he smiled slightly as Kisuke approached. He lifted a long finger to adjust his glasses, catching the gleam of the falling sun.

“Ki-chan, your tou-san was looking for you,” Kyouya-san greeted, and his eyes flickered to Yoruichi, widening briefly. He faltered before he caught himself. “Ah, who is your friend?”

“Her name's Yoruichi,” Kisuke declared brightly, continuing to pull Yoruichi along after him as they skirted past Kyouya-san and left little dust prints in their wake. They stepped out of the lazy-hazy heat and into the dry coolness of the shop. “Is tou-san in the back?”

Kyouya-san watched them pass, a curious look on his face as the broom paused on the stoop. “Yes, he is. Nice to meet you, Yoruichi-san.”

Kisuke failed to catch the wink that Yoruichi tossed at Kyouya-san. He intently headed for the back where the living quarters were, directly attached to the shop. Only to have a sudden thought. Kisuke drew to an abrupt halt in front of one of the cases, pointing a proud finger towards a sweet confectionery in particular.

“See that?” he asked, his own gaze locked on the brightly colored piece of candy. “I invented it.”

Yoruichi's golden eyes widened in amazement and curiosity. “What is it?” she pondered aloud, already reaching for the wrapped sweet.

“Rice candy,” Kisuke answered, practically puffing with pride. “But the secret is that the wrapper's edible now. That way it stores better and longer.”

She was already trying it, chewing noisily on the sticky candy. Yoruichi smiled in appreciation, and Kisuke flushed. Somehow, her approval meant a lot to him. It was his first successful experiment. The spare room was chock-full of failures and those currently in process.

“Kisuke? Is that you?” His dad's voice echoed from the back room, along with the noises of someone in the midst of preparing dinner.

He hollered right back, voice echoing loudly against the walls of the shop. “Tou-san, I brought a friend.”

His dad emerged from the open doorway, wiping off his hands with a towel. He hardly looked like a father, what with his youthful face and pulled back dark hair. He was the object of affection for all the women in the neighborhood, but Takuya never noticed. Kisuke suspected that his dad was still in love with someone else and would probably be like that for a long time.

Takuya brightened at the sight of his son. “Will he be...” but he trailed off at the sight of Kisuke's guest and dropped the towel in his surprise. “Yoruichi-sama!”

Behind Kisuke, Yoruichi made a face. “Please don't call me that, Urahara-san,” she corrected, suddenly sounding very adult to Kisuke's amazement. “Here, I am just Yoruichi.”

Confused, Kisuke looked between them, still clutching his ball. “Yoru-chan, you know my tou-san?”

Golden eyes shifted his direction, a light smile touching Yoruichi's lips. “I've never met him before, but I've heard about him from my okaa-san.” And then, her gaze shifted to his dad's again, something knowing passing between them. Like a secret Kisuke wasn't allowed to know.

He frowned, the mention of “mother” making something inside of him clench painfully.

“I don't know my kaa-san,” he murmured quietly, a loss that he had always noticed.

Kisuke loved his father dearly. There was no equal to him, no replacement. Yet, he had always thought of having a mother. He often imagined what she must have looked like, soft and beautiful. And she must have been kind to make his dad fall in love with her. But whenever he asked his father about her, pain filled Takuya's eyes. Kisuke couldn't bear to see it because it made him hurt as well. He stopped asking and only held the knowledge that she had died years ago.

Yoruichi knelt beside him, one deceptively delicate hand resting on his shoulders. Her hand held the calluses of sword work on her fingers. Kisuke knew because his dad had the same, though he hadn't lifted his zanpakutou in years. And once again, he felt that small shock of something from her touch, like a small current flowing over her body and onto his. It called to an unnamed something deep inside of Kisuke, that same something he thought might have been reaching for him.

“She would have loved to know you, Kisuke,” Yoruichi assured him, her eyes filled with the same pain that his dad sometimes showed. “She loved you.”

Gray-green eyes widened. “You knew her?” The ball dropped to the floor, bouncing to a quiet corner.

“Of course I do. She was my kaa-san, too.”

Kisuke's jaw dropped. Yoruichi was his sister? But they didn't look anything alike! And how come he'd never met her before!

Takuya shifted in the doorway, loosing an almost strangled sound. “Yoruichi-sama… err... Yoruichi… are you sure that's wise?” His father was very obviously worried.

“I'm the Shihouin head now. I'd like to see someone try to stop me.” Her jaw firmed with determination before she turned back towards Kisuke, lifting a free finger to her lips. “That's a secret though. We can't tell anyone we're brother and sister, okay?”

Kisuke nodded, chewing on his lip in thought. “Okay, but…”

“But?”

“We don't look anything alike!” he blurted aloud, staring pointedly at her dark hair and pretty, dark skin. Kisuke himself was bronzed from the sun, but he was nowhere near her shade. She looked exotic, while he was just plain.

Yoruichi chuckled, rising to her feet. “I'll let your tou-san explain that one.”

He pouted, wanting the answers now. “That's not fair.”

“I'll make it up to you. When I visit again, I'll bring some friends.”

Kisuke perked a little. “Are they as interesting as you?” he asked suspiciously, also wondering if they liked candy enough to be his test subjects. He had a couple of projects that were suitable for testing at the moment with a few potential side effects.

“In their own ways, yes.” In that moment, Yoruichi's stomach chose to grumble loudly.

Kisuke was feeling a little hungry himself.

Moved into action, Takuya leaned down and picked up his dropped towel. “Dinner should be ready soon. Kisuke, go wash up.”

“I'm not that dirty,” he protested on principle alone.

Yet, Kisuke turned to do as his dad ordered anyway. The fact that each step caused dust to rise from his clothes was not lost on him. He turned down the hall towards the bathroom, leaving Yoruichi in his father's care. No doubt, the man would make her use the sink since she was no less dirty than he was. Kisuke turned around the corner, sliding out of his geta as he did and moving them to his hands. He heard in that moment the sound of their voices, starting conversation again without him. Curious, he paused in the hallway and strained to listen, cautiously quieting his breathing.

“I never expected you would come here, Yoruichi. If not for your letters, I would have thought you didn't even know.”

Their voices faded a bit as they moved towards the kitchen. Kisuke frowned and dared move closer, missing a bit of the conversation. He tried to make his steps silent, but one foot caught on a creaky footboard, and there was a tiny squeak. Kisuke absolutely froze, but they didn't seem to have heard.

“He has reiatsu, Urahara-san,” Yoruichi was saying. “I felt it almost immediately.”

“I know. And it's only going to grow stronger.” His dad sighed. “Luckily, this is the third district. The threat of Hollows is minimal.”

Reiatsu? Kisuke had reiatsu? Like his father? How come he hadn't noticed before?

Water splashed loudly into the sink, and Kisuke pouted. It was like they were purposefully making it hard for him to eavesdrop. He couldn't help but be curious, especially since it was probably “adult” conversation.

“I'll worry about it when the time,” Takuya continued, and it was followed by the sound of food sizzling. “Until then, let him play and tinker.”

Yoruichi chuckled. “Does he make a lot of things?”

“Yes, and not all of it is as harmless as candy.”

More oil sizzled as the tasty aroma of his dad's cooking filled the house. It wouldn't be long before Kyouya-san finished cleaning. He would join them for dinner before leaving for home, where his wife waited for him. Kisuke kept his ears cocked for Kyouya-san's approach, even as he listened in on the rest of their conversation, a bit of it lost by the sound of the tea kettle whistling.

“You look a lot like her.”

“So does he,” Yoruichi agreed, a note of sadness in her voice. “But don't you go falling in love with me, Urahara-san.” The last was obviously teasing, and Kisuke would bet that she was grinning.

His dad laughed, a low sound of amusement. “As charming as you are, Yoruichi, I don't think that will be a problem.”

Dishes clattered as they were set on the table. More water ran, muffling their voices. Kisuke strained to listen, knowing time was short. They'd notice if he was gone too long, even if this information was too good to pass up.

And then, his father's voice was plainly audible as the faucet squeaked off.

“Why?”

Kisuke waited for the reply, wishing he'd heard more of the question.

“He's my brother,” Yoruichi stated simply, her voice almost gentle in the silence. “He’s her son, too. That's all that matters.”

Despite himself, Kisuke smiled. He chose that moment to leave them to their conversation as he still needed to get cleaned up. He couldn't help but think he was glad to have a sister, especially one as beautiful and strong as Yoruichi.

Even if he had to keep it a secret.

**************

a/n: Ah, I had great fun writing young Urahara here. It was a struggle to balance a young Urahara and still make him intelligent and a bit like the Urahara Kisuke we all know and love. Yoruichi is interesting to write as well, as she is one of the few female characters I like.

So, I hope you enjoyed. Next we jump time again and visit... the Academy. Ukitake, Shunsui, and several other familiar faces make their appearance.

I look forward to your comments!