epidemiology | [CLOSED] we're painted red to fit right in

[CLOSED] we're painted red to fit right in

CHARACTERS: Urahara and Shuyi
DATE: 10/17
WARNINGS: Excessive references to the song "Radioactive" by Imagine Dragons, because I have no shame.
SUMMARY: Urahara asks Shuyi to show him what she can do, because he is a nosy bastard.

Presented with a puzzle, a conundrum, or something entirely new, Urahara can't help but put himself right into the middle of it, whether it's in his best interests or not. He's already pressing more closely to the Audentes than he initially intended to, due to not being able to simply remain in his shop and allow life to continue while he mulls about what he needs to do. Being in the thick of all this has made him bolder, determined to either solve every problem or uncover every fact, and this is neither fact or problem.

This is just curiosity, which is more dangerous, because he can't simply retreat to his shop when he pushes too hard.

Benihime is chuffed and awake, because she knows what he's thinking about- like anyone as invested in particle physics as he is could resist analyzing and understanding something like this. A majority of that intense interest makes up his entire shikai, even if it's just manipulating reishi. And that's not even started on his Bankai...

At the same time, like any good Zanpakuto, she's concerned.... in her own way.

One of these days, dear heart, you're going to wander into something and not like what you find, she chirps, far too gently. Like him, she's usually at her least sincere when she speaks politely.

And, like he usually does when he's set in his mind about what he wants, he ignores her, and continues walking towards the field the girl had indicated. When he arrives, he's all casual- nothing to see here but a cheerfully delighted man in outdated clothing and a hat that covers his eyes.

"Shuyi-san, I presume? Unless you have another name you'd prefer..."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The reason she picked a cemetery as a meeting place isn't to lend some morbid aura to the power demonstration that she's preparing for him. It's the greenest and most open area she can find, without understanding that she is stepping on corpses. Her people don't bury their dead and the Rauthas elevate them in statues.

Shuyi sits with legs crossed among the gravestones, face lighting up the moment she sees him and gesturing for him to take a seat in front of her. She has her white Audentes uniform on, sleeves pushed up her arms, and black boots scuffed with reddish dust from her adventures in the Badlands.

"That is the name I was given and I willingly receive," as for the other name she was handed, that is a story for another day. "You are Urahara?"

For him, it's a trifle bit amusing- he was never alive in the strictest sense, having been born in Soul Society, but he's still a Shinigami. They protect and guide the spirits of the dead, first and foremost, and even if he's given up that mantle, a human cemetary (or a close equivalent) will always feel a bit like an old friend to him.

Something, something... Greets death like an old friend, or so the saying goes- that's what it seems to look like as he smirks almost nostalgically at the gravestones surrounding them, before taking the offered seat on the ground.

"Urahara Kisuke, yes." He crosses his legs and leans forward, his attention now solely focused on her. "Always a pleasure to meet another member of the team personally. We seem so scattered most days." The fact that he's here to learn and maybe even teach and not exchange social pleasantries, notwithstanding.

Shuyi is among those in the Audentes who enjoy social pleasantries. There was a time when the only thing she wanted in life was to be alone, to be without eyes and ears following her everywhere, but the years since spent out in the wilderness has reawakened her longing for social contact. Even talking about the weather is more entertaining than sitting all by one's lonesome.

"Are we to be friends rather than rivals in this team then?"

Her smile turns into a smirk, but she keeps it light, innocent. She reaches for a small pebble lying in the middle of them, holding it up between two gentle fingers to check for any alien ants.

He makes a perplexed sound, one that's cheerful and irreverent to the point of seeming theatrical- the pantomime of someone expressing surprise when there really is none to be had. "I wasn't aware anyone took to starting rivalries here," he lilts, speaking in the same irreverent tone, as if a rivalry between most of the people here wouldn't be a destructive force he isn't certain ALASTAIR is ready for.

"And if they are, I know I don't have the time for any of that," his tone lowers a bit, the theatricality of it dialing down to come as close to sincere as he can manage in a situation where his guard needs to be up. He's still feeling her out.

She maintains the friendly smile on her face, all those years wearing her face as a mask at state dinners and negotiation tables now serve her well. She is testing the waters as much as he is, but sees little need to put up any more guards or to delay the stunt she has promised him.

She nods in agreement. "Time is the most precious thing any of us have."

Placing the pebble between her palms, it takes a moment for her hands to let go, revealing nothing but a handful of dust. But in the split second as her hands draw apart, the pebble falls to the ground as errant molecules invisible to the human eye crisscross between her two palms to break it apart. Such small fission creates no heat or light, but the briefest high-pitched noise follows a beat after. Atoms scream.

Even a soul can't disagree with that statement- they may be fundamentally immortal, but eventually they, too, have to die in some form or fashion to maintain the balance between the living and the dead.

And speaking of balance...

He's amazed by her display and does nothing to try and hide it. When she said bonds, he had several theories, but he never thought it would be as simple (and as extraordinary, because its simplicity is what makes it brilliant) as all that. He was correct in his assumption- their abilities, in some ways, complement each other. He manipulates spirit particles and remakes them in his own image, however temporary (but still destructive) the effect may be.

"Now that is a truly frightening gift you have, Shuyi-san." Could he help her with that? Probably. His knowledge of science exceeds what he can actually do, himself. He uses particle physics to control his own Shikai, rather than simply force of will like most Shinigami- it's his niche. "I believe I caught the implication that you could do that to anything. Is that true?"

Gift, he said, when her people never thought of the blood running through their veins as anything but. It's a burden, rather a curse, when each person is born with a ticking timebomb that doesn't explode but rots you from the inside out. The Rauthas had offered a way to take away that burden, while her friends showed her how to make the most of it, and this man-- She still doesn't know what drives his interest aside from idle curiosity.

Shuyi nods in agreement when he calls it frightening, forcing an apologetic smile to make up for it.

"The stronger the material, the easier," and there lies the paradox. "Diamonds burn so bright and fast, but air is impossible to destroy."

At her apologetic smile, he offers one of his own- that was a bit rude, wasn't it? Calling it frightening, but there's no other word for something that can destroy diamonds with barely a thought.

"I was correct about us having something similar where I'm from. I'll admit, it's not always quite so flashy."

He's showing too much, but enough people have seen some of his abilities now that holding back for the sake of it is pointless, and if she's willing to show such an ability to a complete stranger, it's only fair she see some of his.

"There's more than just bonds that hold together everything in the universe, though there aren't many who can see or even use the other." He pulls himself to his feet. "We call it reishi- the closest approximation to the term would be 'spirit particles.' They're in every world I've seen thus far, though significantly weaker than average. Fortunately, I'm very good at manipulating them."

"Reishi?"

She might have butchered the pronunciation, but her face lights up with interest. Her ability was never anything special in her eyes, not when all her kin have what it takes to do it, given much practice. But she would never call it the ability to manipulate anything. Only severe and destroy. His seems that much more interesting.

"What is the purpose of these spirit particles?" Before he goes about manipulating them, surely one must know their rightful place first.

"For the living world? Absolutely nothing. Think of them as dust brushed off souls in the transition between life and death." He pulls his cane apart, revealing the thin blade inside. "Any person with my abilities can harden the spirit particles in the air so that we can fight without ever having to touch the ground, among other things, but she-" he places the flat of the blade on his palm, indicating the blade is the she he's referring to- "prefers to restructure."

And before she can ask what sort of maniac refers to his sword-cane as if it were a legitimate person, he adds in a hushed, nearly reverent voice, "Awaken, Benihime."

The blade glows with a pulse of red-tinted light and no longer is there a sword-cane in his hands, but an elegant blade with a ornate hilt, accentuated by red tassels. "With her, the use of spirit particles ranges from weapons to defense, depending on what I need at the time."

And more besides, but he can't go into all that for his own reasons- this is what everyone has seen. Explaining it won't make it easier to understand for anyone who might try to block him. If they've seen it, they either have figured out something or they never will- whoever that anonymous they might be.

It pays to be paranoid.

The concept of an afterlife is difficult for her to comprehend, like someone thinking about the possibility of other universes for the very first time.

Shuyi listens with brows furrowed in concentration, slowly rising to her feet to better see the sword, no, person? There's still so much she doesn't understand from what he's saying, like putting together a puzzle with one too many missing pieces. But she does try. If nothing else, she knows that he is showing her all this not for his own good but as a favor to be respected. She leans closer to take in the magical weapon, hands held behind her back to keep herself from reaching out to touch it.

"Do you deal with the dead then?" Nothing from the living world, he said. "Can Benihime restructure the spirit of a fallen comrade to become a weapon or a shield in your hand?"

If there were simpler terms, he'd find them. This is actually the first time he's ever explained all of this to someone who has absolutely no context about the world he comes from.

"In a sense, yes- you could definitely say I deal with the dead." And while he's never thought about that, he's fairly certain she could. There are plenty of reasons why he doesn't use his bankai and the nearly limitless potential of her power to restructure within her radius is frightening.

There's that word again.

"It's possible, but it's just as easy to use what I have in front of me." He tilts his body away from her, pacing a bit away so that neither she or the gravestones will get in the way and whispers a spoken command, "Sing, Benihime." The accompanying swing should do nothing but cut through air, but a wide arc of blood-red light slices its way through the ground, turning up dirt and splitting a large rock that had been in the path of its destruction in two. The attack leaves a perceptible pressure in the air, like gravity has increased and is bearing down relentlessly, though it only lasts for a moment.

"That's a basic technique for her- she isn't as sweet as a name like 'Crimson Princess' implies, you see."

Shuyi takes a step back when he does out of some instinct for self-preservation. She may know little of him and his intentions so far, but only the powerful can appear to be so at ease with the world. And just as well. It's hard to hold back the gasp that escapes her lips when the rock breaks apart with so little effort and she rests her arms against her stomach when even the air seems to change. For a second, it feels as if she's sinking, though she forgets the sensation as soon as it lifts, which worries her even more.

Caution is writ on her face when she turns to Urahara, even if she tries to break the tension with a wry smile.

"One should never underestimate princesses." She tries to relax, stand up straighter, drop her hands to her side slowly. "So it seems with the dead too. You are still able to kill and destroy the living using her, yes?"

"Only if I have to." The war with the Quincies occurred when he was still just a Second Division seated officer, low enough on the totem pole to avoid a lot of the fighting, but high enough to have done his share of damage. Shinigami don't make it a habit to harm humans- just Hollows and their own when they've become too dangerous to even bother incarcerating.

The sword in his hand pulses red and reverts back to her bladed cane form, allowing him to sheathe her neatly, not quite missing the apprehension. Better to put the blade away for her comfort than anything else, even if he knows he's just as dangerous with his bare hands. "It's not very tasteful when you know you have an unfair advantage anyway." He cants his head, smirking a little bit as the fading afternoon light breaks up the shadows obscuring his gray eyes. "I'd rather avoid getting mixed up in fights, but it's not always that simple."

They say courage isn't about being unafraid, but about staring down danger despite your fears. She prides herself on that but hardly admits that it's more the unknown that frightens her. It is less about the blade and more about the gaps between his words, the things he isn't telling her. Benihime is only hinting at even greater power.

But she squares her shoulders and lets out a quiet sigh, returning his smirk with a smile.

"Only the strongest ones say that. People like you, Urahara, have no need to prove your might."

That is the bait.

His smirk turns cautious. Oh, she's a sly one, indeed, and that makes her just as dangerous as he is- but at the same time, he's fascinated. He might avoid fights if and when he can, but he'll stick his hands into any fire if it means sating his own curiosity and drive.

"And the mark of a careless warrior is revealing all your tricks at once." He wags a finger, gently, rolling over his words in a languid, flippant lilt. "When you do that, you expose your weaknesses and limits. It's always to your advantage for an opponent to believe you're weaker than you are." He adds, a bit more seriously, his voice dropping an octave. "And... Even more important, it's safer for your allies as well."

Sly isn't the word she would use to describe herself. That implies some intent driving her curious jabs, when she quips only to amuse, to incite a reaction, and nothing more. She hasn't yet learned all the tricks of the trade.

So she chuckles when he calls her that, rather pleased with herself despite the reprimand contained in his words.

"Do I not look weak enough?" A beat. "Perhaps I speak too much."

"I think you'll end up being underestimated regardless of how much you speak," he lilts jovially, more than happy to mock casual sexism, because while Soul Society has far fewer concerns about things like that the Living World, it's still an issue. And one he finds no use in, beyond how well he can use it to take advantage of. In those cases, it's well-deserved.

"It's no fault of your own- people just tend to look at pretty young women and forget the old adages about roses and thorns. You could say you tear apart bonds in matter all you wish, but they'll still downplay it until they see it themselves." A beat, from his end this time. "I doubt that's anything you need me to tell you, though. I'm sure you've seen it a time or two."

She seems like the type who has been vastly underestimated- maybe that's why she's so bold.

Shuyi has no words to explain why her role was to sit pretty and keep quiet while her former husband's part was to speak and make his thoughts known. Why her father told her sister to stop playing with swords and to lower her voice, when she is twice more skilled than even the imperial guards. But she sees it and knows how to navigate it as best as she can.

So she smiles in a conspiratorial manner. Bold, yes. "I am lucky in that manner then, but what of yourself?"

"Urahara, do you pretend to be a rose without thorns?"

One would argue that it isn't so much that people doubt his thorns as it is they don't quite realize they're often poisoned. Poor Rukia learned that the hard way, and he hasn't quite stopped regretting that poor decision.

One would... argue a lot of things about him, really. He contains multitudes, which isn't as abstract a metaphor as it might be otherwise with a shinigami. His heart, body, and very soul belong just as much to Benihime as they do to him, and he'd do wise to never forget that if he wants to keep her happy.

No one likes an unhappy Zanpakuto.

He laughs jovially, his mask of innocence as transparent as cellophane. "We~ll, I don't know that there's so much pretending, Shuyi-san. I can't help that people tend to think I'm a buffoon just at first glance." His tone lilts into a dramatic wistfulness. "It can be a bit insulting sometimes, you know? I run a quaint little shop back home, so I have professional image to maintain. It's just people take it so seriously."

And that's entirely the reason for it, isn't it? No ulterior motives, no subterfuge, no desire to keep himself closely guarded. And of course, he doesn't work hard to make sure people take his acting at face value. It's all just a professional front, and people are silly for falling for it so consistently.

Of course.

Hiding in plain sight. Perhaps that's the common denominator between them. No one ever suspected that she would be so bold, so powerful and so full of rage as to inflict such misery upon her world for the sake of a handful people she hates, but she has never hidden her audacity, never kept the blood that courses through her vein or her hatred for tyrants any secret.

They only didn't believe her. Come to think of it, he's among the few who accepted her claims so readily.

She keeps up her smile, but this time it is only fond, no longer mischievous.

"I know too much now to insult you, Urahara."

He lifts the corner of his hat up just a bit, enough that the dark shadows that usually obscure his eyes fall away, and the two of them can actually have this moment of understanding eye-to-eye, rather than have the emotional intimacy obscured by this simple little barrier that keeps Urahara's front so well-maintained.

It's easy to see why such a silly little article of clothing serves as a shield for him- when you can actually see his eyes, no amount of playful subterfuge and deflection can hide the fact that he looks deeply, deeply tired.

"Thank you." He smiles- it almost reaches his eyes, but not quite, and he slips the hat back down on his head in the hairsbreadth of a pause after he says it. "I am a shopkeeper, and I'd like to think that's the whole and sum of it now, but I haven't really had much luck. All those cliches they say about tigers and stripes hold true."

If he thought he could retire after centuries of correcting past mistakes and a single Winter War, he was sorely mistaken. ALASTAIR had other plans. And to be fair, had they not intervened, he would have found something else.

The eyes are windows to the souls, and all that.

Shuyi may not know how rare an honor it is to look into the eyes of one Urahara and walk away unscathed, but she knows to spot the moment someone lets their guard down, even for a little bit. And for all the years she spent witnessing and learning the ins-and-outs of manipulation and political intrigue, none of that have swayed her belief that trust must never be betrayed. It is sacred, non-negotiable, whether or not the other person reciprocates.

"One day, Urahara, you will be just a shopkeeper and I--" what will she be? "I can be someone you would be right to underestimate."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[CLOSED] we're painted red to fit right in

ngl i wrote her to that song

just plays it in the background of this whole thread

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject