Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or any of the characters except for my OCs, nor do I make any kind of profit out of this story.

A drunken night with his best friend has consequences Urahara Kisuke is not quite sure they are even ready for. Shihōin Kimiko on the other hand, is born during autumn into a noble clan of assassins in a fictional world, and a century away from two major wars. SI, Worldbuilding

Chapter 2 - Celebrating life

Careful hands stroking over her head woke her up, the sensation so soothing that she didn't protest even when she was ripped out of the hazy fog comfortably clouding her mind.

The hands were so familiar, she unconsciously nudged closer as far as her current body would allow.

A low voice murmured close to her.

The refreshing breeze in spring. The moon hovering over midnight. Careful hands and a soothing voice. So very warm.

This man is her father.

It is not the first time her thoughts have led her in this direction. She has never believed in any religion. For her, people lived and died, returning to the earth as they did so. A clear beginning and a clear ending; life and death.

She had lived, a child of two people whose love for each other had faded years ago, only fond memories holding them together.

She had died, her car tires having lost their grip on the ice covered road, as she returned home from her best friends birthday party.

Yet, she still felt, still thought, still remembered.

Reincarnation had never been a concept she thought about in detail before. Life was so precious because it only happened once, so she had tried to live hers well.

But waking up in a body so very frail, sight cloudy and dark, instincts controlling her reaction, she had not been able to deny reality.

She was alive. Once again.

Days passed before she was able to accept this new reality. Her thoughts were often straying into nothingness, every new smell and sound enough to distract her small undeveloped mind.

Perhaps that's why it took her so long to notice.

The way her small body hungered, all but demanded sustenance, but never seemed to excrete the very same. Where she realized that people weren't supposed to have a presence, where her surroundings weren't supposed to emit a kind of warmth she had never felt before, and where there shouldn't have been a drowsy current in her own body.

She could not see her parents for the longest time, her eyes too undeveloped to focus properly, but she was able to feel them, their presence unbearably distinct. She could hear their voices, one mischievous and confident, the other low and soothing.

She loved them before she even saw their faces. Before she even realized her own name. Perhaps it was because she noticed how her parents held her so very carefully, how their presence left her rarely even at night, maybe even when her body started crying out for them.

Days and weeks passed in which the snippets of conversation she had slowly managed to pick up seemed to slowly paint a picture of her surroundings.

Kimiko-sama, the servants – and where was she that her surroundings seemed to very traditional – called her, their voices full of deference. Little Ki-chan, her mother sometimes called her, Princess her father would whisper to her at night.

But it was the person who felt like a sharp blade sliding apart water, stern and unmovable like a rock, Hiraku-sama, who ironically clued her in to where she lived her current life.

He whispered to her about clan duty, about Seireitei and the Shihōin clan. Murmured to her old stories of centuries longs past and to Kimiko the names of her parents Kisuke and Yoruichi suddenly made so much more sense.

She was Shihōin Kimiko, the princess of a noble clan of espionage and assassination specialists, and the daughter of two main characters in an anime she had watched as a child.

Even years later, she would acknowledge that her crying fit when she realized this was well justified.

Hearing the senseless murmurs close to her ear, Kimiko allowed her father's voice to carry her back into the waiting oblivion.

The door sliding open managed to rouse her from her drowsy sleep. Half-turning around to face that particular direction, she absentmindedly loosened her grip on her comfortably soft blanket.

The servant hovering close to her – and there was always at least one close to her – stood up carefully, her presence moving towards the door.

Small snippets flickered past her ears, and she scrunched up her face when she only managed to hear a few of the words. Her name was repeated, along with something sounding like celebration.

Time had passed surprisingly quickly, and now that Kimiko thought about, the seasons had passed several times. Was it her birthday? It was strange to think about the fact that she was already one year old, when her body was barely developed enough to count as a three months old.

But then again, Kimiko remembered that Shinigami seemed to age strangely to begin with, so she hadn't panicked beyond feeling some surprise. It was just annoying to realize that she would remain as helpless for quite some time.

Starting when gentle hands lifted her up, she instinctually made a small sound of discontent. The presence holding her felt apologetic and Kimiko had grown used to the undercurrents of deference most people seemed to feel like in her vicinity.

Only moments later, Kimiko felt herself being placed on a soft surface. She knew what was going to happen almost immediately. She was always placed on this cushion whenever her clothes would be changed.

As layers upon layers were carefully placed on her body, and a distinct weight of jewelry was placed over her head, Kimiko wondered what kind of birthday party warranted her layer of fine clothes.

As her attendants murmured soothing words, Kimiko felt her parents near her and instantly perked up. There was also the man who felt like a silent shadow, his presence protective and calm.

Tessai.

The quiet older man was also a constant in her life, often watching over her when her parents were too busy to do so.

It was interesting to realize how different they were to how they were portrayed in the show. Urahara Kisuke was not the cheery laid-back manipulator as depicted in the future, nor the unsure nervous captain shown in the flashbacks. He was a bit unsure, melancholy and he adored her so much that Kimiko sometimes ached.

Yoruichi and Tessai seemed more similar to what she remembered, even if the older man seemed less flamboyant and more studious than the man helping her father in the Shoten.

Her mother was more open, mischievous in a cat-like way; and had none of the weight on her shoulders.

Kimiko hadn't even exchanged a single word with her parents, yet those facts already made her heart hurt.

Familiar hands picked her up, her mother – a cat stretching on a roof in the summer, playful yet dangerous – settling her carefully in her arms, and her father's presence twirled around her in something akin to a hug, and she hummed in contentment.

Life was good.

''Could you please stop laughing already?'' Urahara Kisuke did not whine. He was simply stating a request, over and over again.

Yoruichi kept snickering mercilessly. She would tease him incessantly about this for centuries to come. ''I merely mentioned that you clean up nicely.''

Eying his kimono and hakama combination, the elaborate patterns contrasting sharply but pleasantly with the dark forest green undertones, and the golden obi, paired with the way his hair was pulled back by a golden hair pin – Yoruichi's smirk widened another fraction.

''Kisuke, Kisuke… You are here as the consort to the head of the Shihōin clan. You can hardly expect to be allowed to wear anything less than I do.''

Urahara Kisuke was a genius. A master of combat and kidō, a ruthless assassin – so why was he feeling like the only way to regain his dignity was to erase the last few minutes of his life from existence?

''I am not your consort.'' He protested sharply, only drawing another cat-like smirk from his best friends face. Deciding that the better part of valor would be to simply ignore his Commander, he opened the chōji door to his daughter's room, watching how the two attendants excused themselves with a small respectful bow.

Yoruichi flashed in front of their daughter, a practiced motion drawing her into her arms and Kisuke couldn't help but wrap his reiatsu around Kimiko in a protective embrace.

''Shall we brave the den of the beast?'' Kisuke ventured helplessly – still wishing he could simply don a mask, and hide his presence from the world. But then again, watching the way Yoruichi and his daughter seemed to fit seamlessly together, both clan in fine layers of silk and jewelry; he didn't wish to be left behind.

Urahara Kisuke had never been bothered by his lesser social status. He had earned his positions, had waded through blood to get where he was now no matter what others might imply, but just this once he wondered.

But it would not do to dream and forget reality.

''Yes, let's go. I am looking forward to seeing how many marriage proposals little Kimiko is going to get today.'' Yoruich chuckled, steel flashing in her cat-like eyes, reaitsu swirling dangerously – and Kisuke wondered how many would dare.

Probably too many. Sensing Hiraku-sama's reiatsu heading into their direction, Kisuke sighed.

''Yes, yes. Let's just get this over with.''

In Soul Society, a child's first birthday was considered the most important event in their life. Since births were a rare event to begin with, as creating a new life within Soul Society needed a high amount of reiatsu from both parents, the first birthday served as a way to show the strength of the clan, parents and child.

The tradition was still based on the time when children and their mothers would often die in childbirth, and the successful first year gave certain insurance towards their continued survival. It had been twisted to suit the noble's needs, where instead of celebrating the birth of a child, it was all about politics and the subtle power struggle between the clans in Seireitei.

The event of the decade, some called the birthday of the new Shihōin princess.

The Shihōin compound was cleaned to perfection, the courtyards tended to minutely, and flowers blooming even in autumn providing a celebratory contrast to the finely dressed people pouring into the premises.

Wearing his own fine set of traditional wear, Kisuke smiled pleasantly through the introductions, ignoring the many curious and partly disdainful glances sent his way. It wasn't a secret that a commoner was the father of the new Shihōin Princess and Kisuke was sure it was the scandal of the century.

''- you honor us with your visit, Kosho-sama.'' Yoruichi's voice came from his right, his best friends uncommonly serious, no traces of her usual teasing visible, their daughter perched on her lap like it was a throne, looking around wide-eyed.

He eyed the elderly man chatting with Yoruichi, and the two attendants hovering near. The Kosho clan was the noble clan responsible for the Kidō development in Soul Society, and commanded the Kidō Corps.

Kisuke knew that Tessei was still working towards being allowed to roam their libraries. His friend was singularly talented in Kidō, and had joined the Kidou Corps right out of the Academy, only their strong lifelong friendship letting him stay at the Shihōin compound.

A rasping laughter answered her. ''Of course, I could hardly allow myself to miss this event. Your own celebration seemed just like yesteryear.''

''Not everyone can be as old as you.'' Shihōin Hiraku seemed to materialize at Yoruichi's other side, causing another rasping laughter to echo.

The Kosho clan head fingered his walking stick, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. ''I hardly have any more amusements left in my life, but since I seem to have held up the celebration, I shall go and look for old Kasumioji. That fool still owes me some good sake.

Hiraku, young Yoruichi and Kisuke, little Kimiko, I shall take my leave then.''

Watching the old man hobble away in quiet fondness, Yoruichi subtly leaned towards her friend. ''Old Kosho is an old friend of my grandfather's, so our relationship is pretty good.''

''He seems like an interesting man.'' Kisuke answered diplomatically. Having sat through the congratulations of the other noble houses, Kisuke had founded his own conclusions already. It was interesting to be able to silently study the people around him, how they reacted to his presence, the way they eyed his daughter.

Sometimes he preferred to surround himself in silence, and just watch. Cataloguing all words and actions around him, the pieces fitting together inside his head like a puzzle. It was what made him such a good Onmitsukidō operative. Luckily, people rarely expected him to speak at this event anyway, and it was amusing to watch Yoruichi having to speak so politely.

Sharp-eyed and smiling pleasantly – and he was sure at the end of the day the smile would be permanently stuck on his face – Kisuke soldiered through the rest of the hours long line, and reminded himself that whipping out Benihime and starting a mass slaughter was unacceptable.

Truly the things he did for that child of his.

Kimiko was securely fastened in his arms, as Kisuke did his duty and mingled, dredging up names and faces from his memory, and counting the minutes until he could rip this outfit from his body and slump into his bed.

Yoruichi was held up with the rest of the noble houses, and so Kisuke had the unfortunate duty to present his daughter to the lower noble houses.

The appearance of The Captain of the Eights and Thirteenth squad in front was a stark relief. Kisuke didn't know them that well, but since he had tagged along with Yoruichi on various events, he was at least acquainted with these two.

Kyōraku Shunsui had abandoned his usual pink flower kimono for something darker and more formal, only his scarf had retained his favorite color. Ukitake Jūshirō, on the other hand was clad in light tones; and the contrast between them was somewhat apparent.

''A pleasant evening, Captain Kyōraku, Captain Ukitake. I hope you find yourselves well.''

A good humored grin twisted Kyōraku's lips upward and Ukitake smiled patiently in a way that felt so genuine Kisuke was reluctantly impressed.

''Ah, Urahara-san. It seems like you've made a good amount of progress.'' Kyōraku Shunsui remarked in good cheer.

Absentmindedly, shifting his daughter a bit closer to himself, Kisuke allowed his smile to turn a touch wry. ''Don't remind me. I'm sure this will scar me for life.''

''Then thankfully, this is the only celebration of this size before she turns a whole century old.'' Ukitake chuckled good-humoredly. ''So after this you'll have some time to recover.''

Before Kisuke could even formulate his response, Kimiko who had so far been amazingly content to simply be cuddled by either of her parents, having slightly dozed off for the last few minutes from what Kisuke could tell, turned her attention to the Captain of squad eight.

Kimiko, still slightly disoriented from having so many presences around her for the first time in her life, was suddenly assaulted by the brightest blob of color she had ever witnessed.

It was so distinct from the other muted blobs that it automatically made her pay attention.

Pink. Someone was actually wearing pink. Trying to sense past her father's presence that usually seemed to drown out everything else, Kimiko tilted her head in thought.

Fallen leaves under a shaded tree, softness masking a core of steel.

This man was also dangerous. Just like her parents.

It was the sort of presence that she had come to associate with those strong enough to dominate those around them, a sort of inner assurance that no matter what happened, it would all turn out fine. Kimiko still didn't know if the presence could be equated to reiatsu or if it was something altogether different, but she felt relief at the thought of being able to judge those near her when she was so helpless. Sometimes she thought it was an ability babies possessed, but forgot as they grew older and gained their sight.

Still, she could that this person was strong.

Loosening her death grip on her father's clothes, Kimiko stretched out her small hand towards the pink darkish blob, feeling the way her father subconsciously shifted to accommodate her.

Her father was saying something she had to struggle to understand.

''…apologize, she must be curious.''

Feeling particularly proud that she had made out most of the sentence, Kimiko became more insistent.

Her father, and who would have thought that Urahara Kisuke would make such an excellent father, huffed fondly at her and Kimiko instantly knew that she had won.

Bless her father's indulgent heart, she soon heard him speak to the bright blob. It was a shame that Kimiko had tuned out during the introductions.

''Do you want to try holding her?''

The voice that answered him was a deep and soothing baritone, the kind of voice a story teller should have. ''Yare, yare… why not?''

Large, but careful hands cradled her only a moment later, her hands fisting themselves into the bright fabric and Kimiko couldn't suppress a smile.

The bright blob chuckled, his presence twisting warmly; and Kimiko buried her hand into a warm shoulder.

''Well, little Kimiko, was it? You're a cute one, aren't you?''

Kyōraku Shunsui cooed softly, watching with amusement as the little child fisted her fist into his colorful scarf, a frown of concentration on her face. It was adorable.

''I don't think she's ever seen pink before.'' Kisuke mused idly, a flash of amusement lightening his eyes.

Ukitake Jūshirō smiled warmly. ''Poor Shunsui, you're only being liked because of your unusual scarf.''

Shooting his best friend a dirty look, the Captain of squad eight, pouted exaggeratedly. ''The scarf is part of my charming personality, Juu-chan. So little Kimiko obviously likes me.''

Kimiko wasn't so far into admiring the silky pink fabric before her that she was unable to hear the sentences around her. So this was who held her so very carefully.

Kyōraku Shunsui. It was still strange for her to be reminded of the fact that she was living in a world she previously thought of as fiction. Her parents had long stopped being mere characters to her. She loved them for who they were, for how they treated her with so much love that it ached.

Feeling the way his presence was so warm, a roaring bonfire hidden behind a deceptive layer of lazy currents; Kimiko gurgled happily at him.

''See, Juu-chan. She obviously likes me.'' Kyōraku sounded just the slightest bit smug, but Kimiko noticed that the hands around her still remained so very careful. Just for that she decided she liked the person holding her a little more.

''Yes, yes. You've made your point, Shunsui.'' Ukitake voiced patiently, and Kimiko concentrated on the other Shinigami.

The gentle breeze on a summer day, the soothing smell of tea in autumn. A kind smile and gentle voice, a deceptive clear lake hidden beneath.

''…precocious one, right Juu-chan?''

Chuckling followed the question, and Kimiko furrowed her brows as she realized that her attention was once again caught completely by something else, so much that she had missed part of the conversation.

Turning back her attention towards her surroundings, Kimiko felt her father's presence pulse strangely. It was normally soothing, pulsing around her protectively, but now it was nearly bubbling, something sharper hidden within.

Unconsciously whining in discontent, Kimiko reached towards the presence of one of the two most important people in her life. Her father's voice washed over her, voice too low for her to make out the words in her state, but the hands wrapping around her were familiar.

Inhaling her father's scent, Kimiko buried her small fingers in his clothing, her whines subsiding that she was back in her father's arms.

His presence curled around her, cocooning her small body – and to Kimiko's alarm, her eyes started to drop, the small episode obviously having tired her out.

The voices around her suddenly seemed muted, as if reaching her through a layer of wool.

Sleep, Kimiko decided, sounded absolutely wonderful right now.

''Finally.''

Loosening another kimono serving as her undergarments, Yoruichi stretched her body languidly. The rest of her clothes had been peeled off her carefully by two attendants, but the last two layers were less delicate.

Ushering all the servants out of her private quarters, he attention turned towards Kisuke and Kimiko; her third seat having already abandoned most of his clothes at some unknown point.

''Don't make such a face, Kisuke. We survived, didn't we?''

Slandering over to her small family, the Shihōin Princess grinned in amusement at the disgusted look twisting his features for a brief moment.

''Barely.'' He protested tiredly, before frowning thoughtfully at her. ''I think Kimiko might be very sensitive to reiastsu.''

''Are you sure it's not the normal child sensitivity?'' Yoruichi pondered thoughtfully, trying to recall whether she herself witnessed instances of special reiatsu sensitivity.

''No. I've had the suspicion for some time now. But today when I briefly felt a spike in emotion, Kimiko immediately reacted.'' Kisuke smiled wrily, the twist of his lips part helpless, part proud.

Because how could he not be? Reiatsu sensitivity was usually correlative with a high potential when it came to controlling one's own reiatsu. Such a talent. It would help Kimiko immensely in the future, Kisuke was sure.

''The Elders…''

''-won't have to know.'' Kisuke cut off Yoruichi's worried exclamation. Both knew how easy it was to push someone over the edge with overly high expectations, especially a child.

Yoruichi's reaitsu calmed, a steely undertone suddenly present. ''Nevertheless, we shall simply have to make sure that nothing can harm her.''

Golden met grey-silver eyes and both smiled, Kimiko continuing to slumber peacefully even among the raging reiatsu thickening the very air in the room.

Her dreams calm and unperturbed.

A/N Finally the second chapter. Life keeps me really busy right now, so don't expect too many chapters. But until I say that the stories are abandoned, I'll always get back to them... eventually.

Thank you for your support! I hope you liked this chapter.

C'ya soon,

AriesOrion