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blonde-and-cat-suc · 1 year

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26. song for a gardener

rating: t

wc: 2.5k

cw/tw: sister!c//a (no incest), mentions of child abuse

desc: In the Bright Moon garden, Shadow Weaver and Adora have a talk about their relationship from the beginning.

(Canon Divergence, S4)

///

An eerie silence hangs over Shadow Weaver’s roses, her petunias, flowers she had only recognized from her former life. Naturally, she didn’t chose to fill this silence if she had the choice, but today she has company, and she isn’t used to the child she raised just... watching her from the other side. Cool. Calculating. Some what curious.

It takes Shadow Weaver a moment longer to realize that Adora is spying on her. Or, she’s trying to. Unfortunately, she’s nothing like her sister, who would know better than to pass by a bush and make the leaves rustle.

Catra was good at a few things. Even if those things never counted for much.

Shadow Weaver pushes the thought away. No need to remind herself that her other daughter was still in the Fright Zone somewhere, picking up where she left off. That was her own fault for not keeping Catra in line so long ago. Her own fault for not keeping Adora in line so long ago.

Honestly, if she wasn’t so used to the hardened, porcelain shape of the mask already, she would’ve just lifted it, yawned and sighed and breathed a little more comfortably. But she is used to it. And she doesn’t want to feel anymore comfortable with herself than she can possibly be right now. Softness was a plague, infective, inviting things she’d fought all of her life to stay away from... The mask would stay on.

The hyacinths on the other side of the garden need watering, too, so she grabs her bucket, promptly ignores that Adora is crouching in a tall, over grown holly bush, and makes her way to the dirt-patch. She doesn’t usually make noise on purpose--it’s annoying, actually, and half of the appeal of gardening is that she doesn’t have to talk the plants down, encourage them to get up and prove themselves with words; all she must do is care for them, and they grow--but today Shadow Weaver hums a tune.

She forgot what this song was called somewhere during her time in the Fright Zone--probably somewhere around the time she had to keep one eye on young Adora and the other on an even younger Catra. That was a couple of hard years, she remembered vividly, and never had time to hum, or read, or write. Just yelling, mostly. Occasionally, she would cast a spell too. But mostly yelling.

The holly bush trembles as Adora stretches out her limbs, sitting, Shadow Weaver thinks. How ridiculous this is. Adora’s not even really trying to be stealthy, but wonders why Catra keeps getting the upper hand on her? Water drains over the hyacinth bed, not too much and not too little. Adora needs to be better than that; slacking off in normal situations was begging for slip ups in battle.

Shadow Weaver thought she raised Adora better than that...

Besides tensing at the noise of the holly bush and the water splashing up to her fingers, Shadow Weaver keeps humming. It’s probably not the right melody, and maybe her notes are off, but she’s more focused on the vibrations echoing off the mask, meeting her skin in a way talking doesn’t achieve. Why did she ever stop humming? It’s fun. A little annoying that she can’t remember the rest of the tune, but it’s fun thus far.

There’s not much else left to do since Shadow Weaver considers this garden's upkeep absolutely essential, and tends to it every single day. She can, of course, revive whatever dead plants happen to show up. That doesn’t mean she wants to. It was just more satisfying to care for the plants like they’d earned that kind of care. Gardening requires something of a tenderness. Something close to it. She has never be able to feel anything close to that, until after the fact, and the prize meant to be won was already won.

Adora peeks her head out of the bush. She must not be aware that despite the mask, Shadow Weaver has excellent peripheral--and, shouldn’t that silly child she raised already know that much? She is being daft on purpose?

“It would behoove you to stop being so obvious.” Shadow Weaver doesn’t look in Adora’s direction, guessing that her face did that thing it does when she’s been compromised. Adora's face didn’t change all that much into adulthood, and it’s easy to remember how pink-shame would dust her nose bridge, reddening against her cheeks like two sunburnt apples. “You are embarrassing me, Adora. Really.”

“There’s no one else here for you to feel embarrassed!” Instead of sinking deeper into the clumps of leaves, Adora tumbles out of the bush, lurking behind to gather herself up from the ground. She isn’t offended, but rather, confused. “You knew that I was here? Weren’t... you using less magic lately?”

“It doesn’t take a magician to know when one is being watched.” She leaves out the part where they made eye contact multiple times through the mask, and how clumsy it was to hide in a holly bush of all things. “What are you doing?”

“Watching.” Adora is candid. “Just watching.”

“Hm.”

She goes back to snipping edges of her double-rose stems. They don’t need anymore cutting, but Adora flanks her side, blue eyes fixed on the thorns curling from the flowers. Does she have an interest in the garden as well, or is she scheming for something? Adora’s dazed look was never like Catra's, whose mismatched gaze was always sharp. Always on alert.

Finally, Adora takes in a gulp of air and rubs at her arm, gathering courage. “Well, I wanted... I wanted to ask you somethings, too.”

“Is that so?” Shadow Weaver is unbothered by this request, knowing that “somethings” were always silly musings when they came from Adora. Silly and unimportant.

“Uh-huh. Yeah.”

They stand in silence, only the opening and closing of scissors cutting more than what should be cut on the rose bush interrupting. Beneath her mask, Shadow Weaver lifts her brow. “I’m waiting for the questions, Adora.”

“Oh! Right, yeah!” She shakes her head. “Uhm, well... I don’t know. I was just thinking about... Me? You? And... M-My family.”

A bit of a sore topic there. But Shadow Weaver’s long stare at Adora doesn’t make her back off. “Didn’t you find out anything when you ran off to the Crimson Waste?”

“No”, she huffs. “Just... that Hordak didn’t take me. Not really, it was an accident, wasn’t it?”

She doesn’t seem like she’s accusing anyone of anything. Shadow Weaver finds that intriguing. “Yes. Taking a First One’s baby is not a feat commonly done.”

Adora’s staring down at her boots. “So... did you really know that I was meant to be She-Ra?”

That question is easy enough to answer: she didn’t. Not really, as Adora emphasizes. She could only tell that Adora wasn’t a typical Etherian-human, and that much was interesting about her. She’s ready to give this answer to Adora, but the questions keep coming.

“Did you ever want to... raise me? Be a mom to me? And Catra?”

Shadow Weaver blinks. “Why does anyone have children, Adora?”

“Huh? I don’t know... I don’t have any kids.”

Fair enough. Shadow Weaver looks away, contemplating, trying to come up with a better way to deter these probing musings that she didn’t think Adora was capable of.

Did she ever want to be a mother...?

Sure. In a loose sense.

It was easy to care for Adora. Brush her hair, change her clothes, shush her to sleep, humming lullabies that she heard years and years ago, as Light Spinner. They even got around to singing the songs together, though, the infant Adora was a lot more content with ruining the melody than Shadow Weaver ever was.

“Do you remember that song we used to sing before I left you to sleep in the barracks?”

Adora’s face draws blank. “No.”

Ah, but then why would she? Shadow Weaver doesn’t pretend to snip anymore of the rose bush, casting her gaze away from Adora and onto the Bright Moon Castle. This place feels... nurturing. Better than anything Shadow Weaver could have ever provided. Because she can’t provide it. She never knew how.

“Did you remember the song?” Adora presses, brushing against the roses, dangling by the stems, too far cut to stay upright.

“Only some of it.” Not that it matters, really.

“That was what you were humming...” It’s not a question directed to Shadow Weaver. Adora rubs her chin, thinking this over. “I... I kind of recognize it. It’s old, isn’t it?”

“Older than you can fathom.” Shadow Weaver’s lifespan is far more than Etherian-human’s would ever be. She can’t tell if Adora already understands that much, but it doesn’t seem important right now anyway. “I used to sing to you so you’d stop crying. You used to cry a lot.”

“I don’t anymore”, she says as if Shadow Weaver wouldn’t believe her.

“Probably not.”

“So, you already knew how to care take of babies? How else did you keep me alive?”

What was with all of these questions? Shadow Weaver lets out a puff of air, heat swelling on the hard surface of the mask, escaping through the cracks. “It’s common knowledge, Adora. Even you must realize that much.” Adora’s mouth parts like she wants to add in, but Shadow Weaver cuts her off: “As for Catra-- you were asking about her too, yes?”

“Yes”, Adora breaths.

“Catra was hell to look after”, she admits, sounding more tired than she ought to be. That was years ago. Catra was an adult now, ruling over an army that Shadow Weaver just couldn’t crush properly under her foot. “I’ve never been more inclined to hate children up until Catra.”

“Then why adopt her? Why bring her in?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“If it was, I wouldn’t be asking.”

A remark like that would get Adora cuffed in the jaw. If this was still the Fright Zone. If Shadow Weaver wasn’t taking up gardening now. “You seemed to like her.”

Adora’s eyes grow wide, two full moons. “What? Is that it?”

She probably wants to hear about the day Shadow Weaver was assigned to cleaning up the potential magicat cadet, rid her of whatever fleas, ticks, and other parasites were latched onto her body. It was a simple task, and back then, she didn’t mind caring for cadets that were Adora’s age. They all needed a little toughening up anyway.

Catra too, was one that needed to learn that the Fright Zone was her home now, and she couldn’t be a Horde cadet if she cried so easily getting into water. Shadow Weaver’s fingers ached holding onto the toddler’s wrists, forcing her into the bath. It wasn’t her first experience with an animal-hybrid cadet, but it was the first time she found one that wasn’t frightened by her mask, or the face underneath.

“You’re ugly!” The toddler hissed, foam collecting on the edges of her mouth where she had already been spitting curses that children her age shouldn’t have known. She kicked around in the bath water, yowling and screeching as Shadow Weaver plucked off a tight, fat tick from her skin. “Leave me alone!”

“If you want to die from infections”--Shadow Weaver yanked the toddler up to eye level, the hatred burning in the little one's eyes deeper and more ferocious than ones of many adults--“you’ll do so on your own time! Now hold still or I’ll throw you back from where you came from!”

“Where did she come from?”

Shadow Weaver had flinched, not realizing that Adora had followed her into the washrooms. This girl often did cling to her, lost and confused as she usually was. Shadow Weaver shoved the magicat toddler back into the water, ignoring her flailing and spitting. “In a box. Left here for our resources.”

Adora scurried closer, leaning on Shadow Weaver’s hip. She didn’t care that Shadow Weaver’s mask was off, or notice the ruined, horrid skin of her face. “Does that mean she doesn’t have a mama?”

“Yes, that’s what that means”, she replied, satisfied that a toddler this infuriating would have no parents to complain to after this bath.

The magicat toddler took to glaring at both of them, nose just above the surface of the water. There were fleas bunching up in her hair-- terminal hair, that only grew from her scalp, eyebrows, eyelashes... Information that Shadow Weaver had to know for other mammalian hybrids. The magicat toddler hadn't reached up to scratch at any of the bugs crawling on her head, and on closer inspection--with Adora being an excellent distraction--Shadow Weaver found long, red marks all over her bare scalp. The poor brat had probably scratched too much before she'd been put in a box. No one had been caring for her before the box. Poor brat, indeed. Such an uncomfortable existence in this world, so far.

It wasn't really Shadow Weaver's job to make the cadets comfortable, but... This child would most likely have some form of infection if this wasn't cared for. It would weaken her before she'd ever have to the chance to prove herself.

Should Shadow Weaver shave her head? She ran her sore fingers through the toddler's soft, grey locks. No, maybe they could brush everything out with some more flea-shampoo. Maybe conditioner.

That day had been such a normal one, and yet... It marked the beginning of the end. Shadow Weaver would name the magicat toddler "Catra", something straight to the point.

Catra and Adora... Both being raised by Shadow Weaver in a few months after their first meeting. Pains in her side. Motivation to work harder. Pride, because these two learned so much quicker than the others did, because Shadow Weaver was molding them herself. Just like she used to, in Mystacor. When she was Light Spinner.

"You couldn't have just adopted Catra just because of me", Adora, adult and rough around the edges, demands for a better answer than the one she was given. "That doesn't make any sense!"

"Don't tell me what I could and couldn't have done." Shadow Weaver grouses. "You're out of line."

It's times like these that Shadow Weaver has to ask herself the same question... Why did she even bother? Why didn't she just stay Horde commanding officer, occasionally being relegated to organize the cadets? Not having this hollowness in her chest where having two young girls looking up to her used to fill? She turns away fully now, heading back for the castle, wanting to be alone with the thoughts she didn't know she had. "I'm done with this, Adora. You'll have to take my word for it, or don't have anything at all."

Footsteps follow her out of the courtyard, heavier than they used to be, but just as feverish to keep up. "Hey, wait!"

Shadow Weaver is silent, but slows.

"Did you..." Adora's voice falls. "Did you ever love us? At all...?"

Shadow Weaver should have seen that question coming... But she didn't, and now she's frowning, "Why are you asking such a thing?"

"I have to know. Please. Please tell me the truth."

The heat of Shadow Weaver's mask on her disfigured, ruined skin is suddenly unbearable. She hooks her thumb underneath the clasp, careful about catching Adora's sparkling blue gaze. As an adult, Adora's demeanor shakes... but she's right back to being rigid after the visceral reaction.

Then, Adora takes a step forward, brave as always. "Tell me the truth."

And Shadow Weaver does.

///

#mariposa fics #open ambiguous ending #basically i wanted to handle this between them while keeping in mind that Shadow is a human being and is nuanced just like everyone else #sister!c//a #tw: child abuse #anti c//a fics #anti c//a

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cheshiresense · 8 months

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[From Here]

Dithered over which pov to write next, figured I’d try Yuzu.

-0-

When Yuzu gets a phone call from Ichigo that they would be having two guests for dinner tonight, she is delighted. In all the years she’s known him, her brother has only ever introduced one person to them as something of a friend. Mizuiro is half a sibling at this point, trusted enough to be around them even when Ichigo isn’t, but before him, and after him, nobody else has ever caught Ichigo’s eye enough to warrant an actual invitation to dine with their family.

“They’re related to ghost stuff,” Ichigo adds bluntly, and Yuzu understands that to mean that these two will at least be tougher than the average yakuza on the street, even if they can’t match up to her brother.

“I understand!” She chirps back cheerfully. “I’ll let Karin know. I can’t wait to meet them!”

Then she hangs up, rolls up her sleeves, and gets to work in the kitchen. No guests of her brother’s will ever accuse them of being ungracious hosts on her watch.

(Karin comes home from soccer practice half an hour later. She laughs, as Yuzu does, when Yuzu tells her of their impending guests.)

-0-

Two hours later, Yuzu is putting the finishing touches on the meal when the sound of the door being unlocked carries through the apartment.

"Welcome home, Onii-chan!" She calls out, plating the last dish before carrying it over to the dining table. "Dinner's ready!"

She can hear Karin leaving their bedroom and coming down the hall on deliberately heavy footsteps. She appears just as Ichigo comes in from the front, Mizuiro a step behind him, with two men bringing up the rear, vaguely middle-aged at first glance, younger at the second, and then just ageless the more you stare.

They're tall, is Yuzu's first thought, but everybody's tall from her perspective. Still, they're taller than Ichigo, especially the one in the very back, and bigger too, even if they've got that same elegant dancer's gait her brother walks with, the one that whispers danger in the hindbrain even to those who don't know what to look for. They're also both blond, one darker than the other, but both with hair that nearly reach their shoulders. One wears modern clothing, the other more traditional, and one is empty-handed while the other carries a cane, but both of them take in the whole room in one calculating sweep that misses nothing. And they're both already smiling politely as they walk in, one with a harmless playful edge, the other with a harmless mysterious air, but both as fake as each other.

Yuzu exchanges a glance with Karin just to check she's not seeing things. Karin gives her the eyebrows that means she's noticed too.

Mizuiro had given off a far less dangerous aura when Ichigo had first brought him home. And he still feels much less threatening than these men now, no matter how much Guest One and Guest Two are probably trying to play it down. But back then, Mizuiro had also come in with sharp eyes and a guileless skin-deep smile, and that at least is exactly the same.

Their big brother sure does have a type. Yuzu sometimes wonders if Ichigo goes out and picks the most suspicious and unsettling people he can find to entertain him, or if he just somehow attracts them with his innate charm.

"My sisters, Karin, and Yuzu," Ichigo introduces without suspense, then jabs a thumb at Mizuiro. "And Mizuiro lives next door but he eats with us when we're here."

Then he gestures at the two men. "This is Hirako Shinji and Urahara Kisuke." He pauses for a brief half-second, and his eyes flash gold in Yuzu's, and Karin's, direction. "Hirako's a bit like me." He pauses again, and a funny half-smile hitches at one corner of his mouth. "They both are actually."

He says nothing else, so Yuzu takes that as her cue to sketch a neat half-bow paired with a bright smile. "Hello! It's nice to meet you!"

Beside her, Karin parrots the motion, if in a more perfunctory manner, but they weren't raised in a cave, so they know how to be courteous.

The men murmur back their own greetings even as their gazes shift back and forth between them and their brother like they're trying to pick up on a second unspoken conversation, but it's not as if there's anything for them to hear either way.

It's just that the introduction was short, names and little else, so Yuzu knows that they're equally untrustworthy, which makes sense because Ichigo couldn't have known them for more than a week or two. But the little else he'd tacked on had been a sign as well— not just that they're like him in some ways, in different ways, but also that Ichigo likes Hirako more than Urahara. Nevertheless, the fact that he'd brought them here at all means that they're interesting enough to make them both tolerable.

Yuzu understands, as does Karin, but they give no indication of it as everyone shuffles around to wash their hands, and Yuzu quickly scoops out a bowl of rice each for everyone in attendance.

"Onii-chan never invites anybody over, so I made a lot of extra food today," Yuzu tells them happily. "Please eat as much as you want!"

"Everythin' looks delicious," The darker blond, Hirako, grins at her, and this time, the expression seems more genuine. At the very least, it gives her a warmer feeling than the other blond, Urahara, who also smiles and trills agreement but radiates more distance than an overseas phone call.

Everyone settles around the dining table, although Mizuiro spares a moment to pull an exaggerated moue of aggrievement. "Never invites anybody over? Have I been forgotten, Yuzu-chan?"

Karin rolls her eyes while Yuzu giggles merrily. "You don't count, Mizuiro-nii-chan. You already eat with us almost every day anyway."

Mizuiro drops the act in favour of a smirk, though he looks pleased too, to be counted as family, as if the novelty of it still hasn't worn off. To be fair, it had taken a whole six months before Ichigo had been willing to leave him in the same vicinity as Yuzu and Karin on their own, and Yuzu knows that being trusted like that by her brother is no small feat.

Conversation drops as everybody begins digging in, and Yuzu lets her gaze drift casually over to their guests as they too pick up their bowls and chopsticks.

It's Urahara she lingers on first because he's the one who lifts his bowl to his mouth, only to stop at the last second, chopsticks poised. His expression doesn't really change, and the lapse only lasts a fraction of a second before he's moving again, smoothly pretending to eat a mouthful before lowering his bowl again, chewing and swallowing thin air masterfully. Even Yuzu only spots it because she's been watching the whole time from behind lowered eyelashes as she grabs some eggplant from one of the vegetable dishes.

She lets her gaze drop completely when she feels the man's eyes move from the food to her and then to Ichigo. Still, she can't quite suppress a pout, although she supposes she can't be too disappointed either since Hirako at least eats a good five bites of his rice before suddenly stiffening, glancing down sharply even as his eyes flicker with the same burnished gold colour that her brother possesses.

Then he looks up, looks at Urahara, looks at her, looks long at Ichigo, and then-

-he laughs. It's a bark of one that echoes with a snarl, except the mirth in it is also entirely genuine, enough for Yuzu to glance up with startled eyes. But the rest of the table does as well, so at least she doesn't stand out. Of course, that doesn't prevent Hirako from grinning at her, all teeth, with a bite that would feel like claws at her throat if not for the fact that it's coloured by something even warmer than when he'd complimented her spread. Appreciation, maybe.

"Is it the rice?" He muses candidly, and then actually eats another bite. "Nah, can't be, it was from the same cooker. It's the bowl, right? Not bad, I can't smell or taste anythin'."

Yuzu blinks and shares another look with Karin, who looks largely bored by the proceedings and hasn't stopped eating. Soccer practice always makes her hungry. But she also shrugs in agreement that Hirako is being sincere, so Yuzu relaxes and looks at her brother next.

Ichigo also hasn't stopped eating, although he isn't shovelling food into his mouth as speedily as Karin is. He swallows, glances leisurely at their guests, then looks back at her. "Not bad. Nothing in the food though?"

Yuzu frowns. "It's the first time you've invited them over, Onii-chan. I didn't want to scare them off."

Also, they're tolerable, and Ichigo even likes one of them, so she'd chosen the mildly poisoned bowls over the severely poisoned ones.

Ichigo just looks amused. "They don't scare easily."

Yuzu pouts again before glancing at their two guests, who are both watching them openly now. Hirako still looks like he's just heard a grand joke, while Urahara seems more than a little bemused, but neither of them feels angry.

Her big brother really is an excellent judge of character.

"You really didn't notice anything at all?" Yuzu asks in earnest, peering at Hirako before squinting at Urahara. "Then how come he did? And did you already shake the poison off?"

Hirako snorts and reaches for the communal chopsticks to swipe another chicken wing. "My... constitution's pretty good at negatin' toxins. And Kisuke's trained for this sort of thing."

Trained? Yuzu stares wide-eyed at Urahara long enough for the man to stop exuding caution and start manifesting awkwardness, which isn't what she wants so she hastily blurts out, "Are you really? So you can identify any poison? But the one I made is an original, so you shouldn't have come across it before."

Urahara stares back at her for a long blank-faced moment, not even bothering to stitch on a smile anymore, and like this, he matches the flat undercurrent of his emotions much better, like ice over water, except the water is the ocean and you don't know how deep it goes or what's waiting underneath.

"Ah," The man finally says, lifting a hand to his hat for a moment and pressing down on it so that his eyes are hidden. Then he looks up again and eyes her like he's seeing her for the first time and is pleasantly surprised by what he's found. "I may not know the exact poison, but I could still tell there was something off. Also, it's plant-based, isn't it?"

He pauses, and then, just like Hirako, he picks up his rice bowl again and swallows a decent mouthful, chewing almost thoughtfully beforehand. "And refined with reiatsu. That's actually more difficult to hide from me. Your technique is clumsy too. Give me an hour and I could probably also tell you the strains you crossed to make it. For now, at the very least, I can say there's definitely wisteria in this."

Yuzu is rendered speechless for a full five seconds. And then she snaps out of it and rounds on her brother with the best puppy eyes in her arsenal. She knows they don't actually work, but Ichigo tends to give in to her when she pulls them out anyway because it means she really wants something. "Onii-chan, you'll invite them back again, won't you? Urahara-san is amazing! I could learn so much if he teaches me!"

Ichigo's eyebrows go up for a moment in a way that speaks of indulgence, but he also glances lazily at Urahara before going back to his food. "Ask him yourself."

Yuzu pulls up short, always slightly stunned whenever her brother refuses her, even when it's not a direct refusal. But generally speaking, if she or Karin wants something enough to ask for it, Ichigo has always been the sort to simply make it happen for them. The only times he's ever refused is when he'd thought it too unnecessary - Karin really shouldn't have asked for a flamethrower for her birthday, it's unwieldy and she can't hide it in her backpack, plus they know how to make Molotov cocktails already anyway, which is almost the same thing - or when he'd considered it important for them to get what they want on their own, usually because it would make for a useful life skill in the future.

Never has it been because of a person.

But for the first time ever, this situation seems to have fallen into that exact category, which... She looks back at Urahara with more curiosity than before. For someone Ichigo only finds tolerable, something about this man has... impressed him? Is that what's going on here? Not even Mizuiro has ever succeeded in that before, so for once, Yuzu has no precedent to draw from.

Well, that doesn't matter right now. The important thing is that Urahara will probably remain in her big brother's life for some time to come, which means-

"Urahara-san!" She shoots to her feet, chair clattering back with the force of it as she bows. "Please teach me more about poisons! It's okay if it's just a little bit, whenever you have time. I promise I'll work hard! And of course, I can pay for the lessons!"

She does some mental tallying. There's a bake sale coming up for her club, and the venue they've chosen is close enough to the Karakura border to attract people from the neighbouring town. If she plays her cards right, some thugs from nearby yakuza groups probably wouldn't mind donating to her cause. Pretty little girls offering pretty little cakes are bound to reel in at least a few idiots.

Of course, she'll have to ask Ichigo to get rid of them afterwards. It's better not to risk putting anything too lethal into a school bake sale, just in case of an accident, so she'll have to stick with upset stomachs at most. Once they've paid up, Ichigo can make them disappear. Those upset stomachs can get really gross, and blood and guts aren't much better if cleanup gets messy, so Yuzu would rather not deal with that part.

Unlike her siblings who don't mind it, Yuzu is unfortunately something of a clean freak. Karin always taunts her about having inherited their father's delicate constitution, and Yuzu can't even refute it, no matter how insulted she feels. It's seriously unfair because she can gut a fish in the kitchen no problem, but human intestines make her gag.

"I-" Urahara starts, jolting her out of her thoughts. The man looks taken aback all over again, and like he's missed a step somewhere. He even feels a bit nervous as he whips out a paper fan of all things, one that hides half his face from view. His gaze bounces between her and her brother, emitting enough anxious vibes that Yuzu suddenly wants to give him an emotional support dog or something. "I'm not sure I would be the... best choice for this sort of thing, Kurosaki-san."

Yuzu is unsure who he's talking to, but just in case it's her, she rearranges her face into the most kicked puppy look of disappointment she's capable of. "Why not? You know your poisons, and it looks like it'll be hard for me to kill you. Onii-chan can only teach me so much, it's not really his area, so I've only been able to trial-and-error it for months now. But I'm a quick learner, and I swear I'll listen to anything you're willing to teach me. Or, is it the money? Just name your price."

Even if she can't come up with it all on her own, she's certain Ichigo will help pay the rest. Honestly, even if it's within her budget, he'll just pour the same amount she shells out back into her bank account. The only reason they have to go in a big circle like this is because Ichigo wants them to learn how to handle money responsibly.

"That's not-" Urahara stops again, then snaps his fan shut, and then all of a sudden, it's like a wall comes up, and everything about him shuts down. He straightens, features as unreadable as the rest of him, and then he turns to Ichigo so that it's unmistakeable who he's talking to this time. "Kurosaki-san, is this really alright?"

Ichigo's basically finished eating at this point. Karin gets up for another bowl of rice. Mizuiro watches them like he's binging one of his romance dramas. And Hirako has his head propped up against one loose fist, eyes half-lidded but intent.

In response, Ichigo only shrugs. "I mean, you can say no. But like she said, I can't teach her much more than I already have, and it's not like she's gonna find a better teacher than you at this point, right?"

"And where did you learn it from?" Urahara asks, grey eyes riveted on Ichigo with the sort of focus that feels like he might've forgotten anyone else even exists.

Ichigo actually quirks a smile, sardonically amused. "Same place I learned everything else."

He doesn't expand on it, keeping the conversation on track instead, much to Yuzu's delight. "Anyway, if you're asking for permission, obviously it's a yes. I wouldn't have let her ask in the first place if I wasn't okay with it. And she's smart. You could do worse for a part-time student."

Urahara remains motionless and unblinking for another few seconds. "...Was this why you invited us for dinner?"

Ichigo shrugs again. "Not really. It's not like I knew you knew poisons. I just thought my sisters should meet you, that's all."

"And why's that?" Hirako interjects, also watching Ichigo with gleaming eyes that never waver. "Cuz ya don't seem the type to let jus' anyone get close to your nearest and dearest."

Ichigo turns to him, and his eyes are fond in a way they very rarely are when aimed at anyone not Yuzu or Karin or Mizuiro. It's not quite on the same level, but it does make it even more obvious that Hirako has her brother's favour.

"I thought it'd be good if they knew a few Shinigami," Ichigo says offhandedly, although judging by the slight stir of surprise from both guests, they hadn't expected he would just come out and say it. Or perhaps they're surprised he's talking about it in front of Yuzu and Karin and Mizuiro? But they're family. Yuzu doesn't know everything about Ichigo, but that's just because she doesn't want to know that much about her brother's life, not because Ichigo wouldn't tell her if she or Karin asks.

"You seem like you might bring trouble to my doorstep one day," Ichigo says, somewhat out of the blue, and all at once, Urahara tugs at his hat again just as Yuzu gets a sense of shifty-eyed discomfort all but waving support lights over the man's head. Hirako sort of feels the same, but in a less... personal way.

So whatever's going on, Urahara's probably the one in charge.

Ichigo seems to sense it too, or he's long guessed it considering his not great feelings for Urahara. Either way, he scoffs, and the light in his eyes says he's annoyed, but not annoyed enough to do something permanent about it. Yet. "Yeah, that's what I thought. So I figured it's better for you to know who you should do your very best to protect if shit goes down around them, because otherwise, I might not even feel like hearing you out. Understand?"

Hirako glances at Yuzu, at Karin, even at Mizuiro, then he turns back to Ichigo, solemn in a way Yuzu hasn't seen since they met, "I understand."

It sounds like a promise.

Ichigo hums, satisfied. Neither of them prods at Urahara for an answer, and Urahara doesn't give one. He feels flat again, like a scrap of paper.

"So like I said," Ichigo continues briskly. "If you wanna teach her, knock yourself out. You can send me the bill."

Yuzu beams at him. Looks like she won't have to waste any cakes.

From his seat, Urahara heaves a sigh, and now he just seems tired and still a bit baffled, but he also finally looks at her again like he's assessing her potential. Yuzu straightens and adopts her best imploring face.

This of all things makes Urahara's mouth twitch, and he even feels amused, except it's the sort of amusement that's all wrapped up in razor-wire mockery. That bit doesn't show on his face of course. Still, Yuzu's fingers suddenly itch with the urge to swap out his bowl with the other one after all.

"So clumsy," The man muses, one finger tapping at the cane leaning against his chair. "...Very well, I suppose I may have a few things I can impart to a budding... chemistry enthusiast. On one condition however. And I don't want money."

He looks at Ichigo again, except he doesn't say anything. Ichigo seems to understand anyway because a grin pulls at his lips, a touch too savage to fit on a human face, and aimed at anyone else, Yuzu knows they wouldn't even have time to pick out a coffin.

Urahara seems to be an exception. It makes Yuzu wonder if he's just that strong, certain in his ability to forever remain stronger than her brother, or if he's simply gambling with his life, and it's Ichigo instead who's decided to be uncharacteristically patient.

She hopes it's not the former, because she has no faith in anyone who thinks themselves capable of staying ahead of her brother forever. But if it's the latter, then maybe she'll have enough time to wheedle out everything Urahara knows of poisons before Ichigo snaps and kills him.

"That seems a bit unbalanced," Ichigo remarks.

Urahara inclines his head, and this time, his voice rings of the same vow that had reverberated in Hirako's earlier. "Upon my blade, my life before your family's, should the worst come to pass."

Ichigo laughs, soft and without humour. "This trouble must be something else. That, or you don’t think your life’s worth all that much. But fine. We'll hash it out tomorrow. Keep your word, and I might even go along with whatever you and your people have been cooking up. But Yuzu gets to bug you for lessons any day of the week from now on."

And once again, between one breath and the next, Urahara trades the gravity for the false affability from before.

It's like watching a performance, Yuzu thinks.

She glances at her brother and watches him watch Urahara, still annoyed, still a bit like he could put a knife through the other's ribs if it wouldn't mean the hassle of mopping blood off the floor.

Ichigo likes Hirako. Yuzu does too, even though they just met not even half an hour ago. There's something about him that makes him approachable and friendly despite the very obvious beast lurking beneath his skin. But that too might be part of the charm because Yuzu's long used to the same thing from her brother. Knowing even just that much, it's not a shock that Ichigo has clicked with him - a fellow monster - in a way he never has even with Mizuiro.

But Urahara is different. Urahara is treated with tolerance only, with irritation and discontent and even derision, on and off. But Yuzu knows that her brother has killed people for a whole lot less than that, and yet here Urahara sits at their family's table while Ichigo looks at him from time to time, tolerant and irritated and discontent and derisive, and he can't stop looking.

She wonders if even her brother is aware of what he's doing.

"I'll leave my number," The man offers, complete with a genial smile. "And you may stop by my shop anytime. Allow me a few days, and I shall have some reading material organized for you."

Yuzu perks up, nods, and finally sits back down, then gets up again to fetch two extra bowls of rice, this time clean of any poison. Hirako snickers but accepts his with a nod. Urahara does the same, with that same winning smile, and then dinner restarts, this time uninterrupted.

Well, who cares if Ichigo is aware or not? He’ll figure it out sooner or later. And besides, it’s all the same in the end— people who push her brother too far will face the consequences, and those who don't will not. That's just the simple truth of it.

But in the meantime, Urahara at least won't be going anywhere, which means Yuzu can finally get some guidance for one of her favourite hobbies, and honestly, that's all she really cares about.

#bleach #myscrap #stunted empathy verse #kurosaki ichigo #kurosaki yuzu #kurosaki karin #hirako shinji #urahara kisuke #kojima mizuiro #this excerpt should be called #no child raised by a monster could possibly be fangless #or normal #and yes ichigo protects his sisters well but also he says the best protection is teaching them how to protect themselves #and the twins just extrapolated from there b/c they may be softer compared to ichigo but that's not rly saying much #anyway yes yuzu and karin have their own little abilities #they're not as strong as ichigo but they have their ThingTM #yuzu's very good at sensing emotions tied up in someone's reiryoku #also kind of obsessed with poison #as she once told her big brother: making poison is just extreme cooking #ichigo didn't rly mean to raise her like this but it's the niche she's growing into and she owns it #and ichigo doesn't see a problem with that #you should encourage your kids' hobbies after all #also lmao this may end up kisuke/ichigo/shinji instead

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