Imperfect

Warning! Read Me!

Contains major spoilers! Since I have started to write this story before the Turn Back the Pendulum Arc, this may count as an AU to that.

This story is going to contain shonen ai, yaoi (you know, the m/m thing!) and Mayuri. If you have a problem with any of these please stop reading this fic unless you are a mazochist of course. Flames against either yaoi or Mayuri or both—or any kind of combination of these are going to be ignored and the flamers will be immortalized in the form of a voodoo doll with pins where it hurts them the most!

Just joking!

Or... am I:)

Thank you!

What is different: In this story Mayuri was still free when Urahara became a captain, and the two of them did not meet in the Maggots Nest! Even though Urahara founded the Research and Development Institute right after his promotion, he did not offer the position of second in command for Mayuri – simply because they didn't know each other back then.

Mayuri still has most of his original set of limbs and other bodyparts, including ears and hair too (no hat, mask or any other accesories either).

Timeline: set about 100-130 years before the main storyline of Bleach.

Huge thanks to my dear betas!

Prologue

It was spring, the last week of the school year and as such, the corridors of the academy were full of little groups of seniors who were chatting enthusiastically. Most of them gathered around the long lists hanging on the walls, looking for their names.

This comfortable buzzing was suddenly disturbed by the heavy sound of someone's hurried steps and the loud bang of an opening door. Shibazaki Gonsuke, the academy's current student advisor, took one last sip of his tea then started to read another paper.

There was no need for him to look up to know who broke into his office; he was expecting this meeting. He'd known this would happen ever since the results of the student applications came from the 13 protection squads. Yet he still didn't feel ready for this clash, even though he'd had a week to prepare himself.

The sound of steps came closer and closer and with a dull thump someone slammed a paper on his table.

"What is this about?! I demand an explanation!"

Gonsuke stared tiredly at the paper and sighed, no matter how much he wished he couldn't run away anymore.

"Good morning, Kurotsuchi-san!" he muttered and without even looking up, pushed the paper aside.

"Don't 'good morning' me but answer! What's the meaning of this?!"

Gonsuke put his brush down, arranged his features into an expressionless mask and looked up (the first time since the student entered the room) right into a pair of yellow eyes glowing with anger.

He knew exactly what the student was trying to ask, but he didn't feel like making it easier for him. He'd been working for eighty years at the academy and had met many students, but never such a bad-tempered and arrogant one as Kurotsuchi Mayuri, not even among the children of the Great Noble Families. During the six years Mayuri spent at the academy his name had practically become a legend among the teachers and office workers with his regular rows and questionable dealings with the other students.

This was his last year though, and Gonsuke knew it was only the matter of days before Mayuri stepped out of his and the school's life forever, and received his well-deserved punishment from the real world. So he wanted to enjoy this last chance to be as minimally helpful as only one can get with long years of bureaucratic experience.

"This is the squad list, Kurotsuchi-san. And I would appreciate if you put it back on the wall. Others may need it too."

"Iknow what this is." Mayuri growled with rage. "But what is this number supposed to mean?" He pointed at the paper.

Gonsuke followed his movement with a tired look, although he was sure he knew where it lead: to Mayuri's name.

"The number of your new squad, and your rank there."

"But this is not where I applied for!"

"I know, but this is where you were admitted to."

"But this cannot be! This must be a mistake! I must have had enough points to be admitted! I demand that you check it again!"

"There is no mistake in this. Although you achieved maximal points, as always," he added with a touch of sourness in his voice, "the 12th squad rejected your application, so it was sent on to the other squads."

"But why?"

With a sigh Gonsuke leaned on his elbow and looked at the young man in front of him. The 12th squad wasn't among the strongest squads but it was the most strictly supervised one; the place where the most dangerous experiments were carried out.

Over the years when an accident happened at the 12th squad it was always at the expense of the whole Soul Society. After the incident with the Bounts the office of 46 made a serious decision to avert further calamities, and from that day onward only students with unquestionable morality and sense of responsibility could be accepted into the 12th squad, which had to be proven with a personally signed recommendation from a teacher.

How could he explain that the reason for the rejection was simply that there wasn't one shinigami in the whole academy who would vouch for Mayuri's sanity, much less for his unquestionable morality or sense of responsibility? At the end he chose the only solution he could think of, he shrugged and with an emotionless face he said:

"I can't even imagine, Kurotsuchi-san," and quickly, before the other had a chance to react, he added: "The decision is final. From now on, you are a member of the 4th squad. Congratulations!"

"But I..."

"Please put this paper back as you leave."

"But..."

"Goodbye, Kurotsuchi-san!"

The boy shot a long, hateful glance at him, picked up the paper and stormed out the door.

Chapter 1

Letters

It was a day just like any other when Yoruichi decided to visit Urahara. The weather was so nice and it'd have been such a shame to sit over papers (or so she thought) but that man was nowhere to be found. He wasn't in his lab or any of his favorite spots. When she found him at last he was alone, lying on his back on one of the tall rooftops of the lonely buildings with a lollipop in his mouth and arms under his head. His gray eyes were scanning the clouds so unaware of the existence of the rest of the world as only he could be.

"Yo! Kisuke!" she greeted him as she appeared next to him. "What are you doing here?"

"Yoruichi-san?" Urahara looked up with a tired smile. "Nothing. Just watching the clouds and thinking."

"So… the experiment has failed again." This wasn't a question but a statement; one she knew was true. Urahara only nodded.

Yoruichi wondered whether she should tell him how sorry she was, but perhaps there wouldn't be any point of it. This wasn't the first time, and surely not the last either; they both knew it. So she just sat down next to him, looking up at the sky and let the companionable silence to envelop them.

It was one of the strangest things, she mused, how the usually spirited Urahara could gaze at the sky for hours without moving the slightest whenever he was troubled. Yoruichi knew of course that there was a sky above them (she was even aware that it was pretty), but in her opinion staring at it solved nothing and so was pointless and boring.

But for Urahara it seemed to smooth his troubled mind, and when he spoke again he sounded pondering:

"Have you ever noticed even if rain falls in Soul Society, how it never falls here, among the walls of the Seireitei? Isn't it weird?"

"Yeah" she grinned. "Although it is even more weird to hear you complain about it. After all, isn't it the 12th squad that keeps it this way?"

"On the order of Yamamoto-sama. This is supposed to be the place of perfect weather, or so he thinks." Urahara said with a shrug. "It never changes. Every day, it's always the same, never a storm, and never a drop of rain. It feels so... alien."

"Well, perhaps" she agreed with a small nod and laid down next to him with a long, cat-like stretch, an intimate gesture which she allowed herself only in his presence.

"But most people like it, and I can't say I mind it either. It's better than getting wet and walking up to the neck in the mud every day. I guess this must be why Yamamoto orders it to be like this."

"Always without a change... " whispered the man and Yoruichi had to smile.

"Now aren't you unusually philosophic today?"

Urahara just remained silent and closed his eyes. When he answered at last, it came unexpectedly with a tired sigh.

"It died right after the activation, you know." he said slowly. "There are 254 shinigami under my command and there wasn't one, who could find an error in the design of that compact soul. Yet it failed." He stopped for a moment as a sudden wind blew his hair into his face.

"That was how I realized. They are all clever and hardworking men, selected after hundreds of tests. Yet useless, all of them." He gestured wearily, "We chose them considering what everyone would expect from a subordinate, but with this we also prevented any kind of development. The same pattern of thinking, being sorted out by those tests. They are just like this weather."

"Hmm…" she sounded amused. "You sure are strict with your subordinates."

"Quality over quantity, dear Yoruichi," he smiled seductively.

"Yeah, I guess this explains a lot." She said with a wide grin. Urahara laughed with her, but his voice lacked any real joy. When he spoke again he sounded distant.

"Always sunshine, ne? So boring. Some rain would certainly be... refreshing."

-oOo-

How Yamada Momotaro had ever become an officer of the 4th squad was a mystery to everyone, especially to himself. He never had big dreams, never wanted to become a hero, and the greatest ambition of his life he ever dared to allow himself was dreaming about seeing the living world once. Not as a protector of course, just as a tourist.

He liked his life simple, without as much action as was possible. It wasn't because he was lazy, but whenever he tried to make an effort to solve a problem on his own, somehow said problem always became worse and he got in trouble; making everyone to be angry with him. So after a few years at the academy he gave up on trying. It was much easier to simply do what he was told to do, nothing more and nothing less. This way no one yelled at him, he could remain faceless and nameless and it even saved him time for reading and daydreaming.

It worked perfectly well 'til the day when Momotaro had to face the frightful fact that what he considered to be a good tactic was something that others saw as a sign of obedience and trustworthiness. One day an officer walked up to him, pushed a letter into his hands and patted his shoulder with a wide, friendly smile on his face.

"Congratulations, Yamada! In recognition of your efforts and hard work, from now on you are one of the 20th seated officers, leader of the 24th supply and cleaning team. Don't bring shame on your rank!"

With this position new assignments came, and his nightmare had started.

This ordeal's newest development was the report writing for the monthly-published newspaper, the 'Court of Pure Souls'. The magazine usually left a few pages empty for every division to fill it with articles on whatever topic they choose. In the 4th squad writing them was the job of the lower ranked officers, and this month it was Momotaro's turn.

All his friends told him that since the whole Seireitei was reading the magazine this was a great chance for him to stand out and draw attention to himself and his opinions. This thought somehow didn't make Momotaro feel any better.

Today was the last day before the deadline. He had to hand in his report at noon, yet now, at eleven o' clock, he still didn't have the faintest notion of what to write about. In the past two hours all he did was to scribe the word "Healing Magic" on the top of the paper. It sounded like an interesting topic, one worthy to appear in the newspaper; all he needed now was some idea how to continue it.

He took his brush in his hand and stared at the paper.

Nothing...

He put the brush down, than picked it up again, and glared at the paper a bit more.

Still nothing...

He wanted to scream. He grabbed the brush and threw it at the wall with all his strength, but almost immediately regretted it. After all it wasn't the brush's fault that he was in this situation. He knelt down to find it, but couldn't see it anywhere. While he was climbing under the desk the sounds of throat clearing caught his attention.

"You may stand up now. I know you are hiding under the table."

Momotaro jumped as high as a flea in his surprise, and bumped his head on the tabletop with a loud thump. For a short moment he wondered if he was wrong; the person who spoke couldn't be the one he thought he was, but after a moment of hesitation he had to admit he couldn't imagine anyone else with such a creepy voice.

"Kurotsuchi-san? I'm not hiding, I'm just," he mumbled as he crawled out from under the furniture and scrambled to his feet. "I mean... I...I..."

It was a mistake, and he immediately knew it. It was a mistake to look at Mayuri's face while talking to him. Before he looked, he couldn't see those cold and penetrating eyes staring down at him, he didn't feel the chill in his spine, and he didn't get a barely surpass-able desire to run away and hide under some rock. Before then he didn't feel like a piece of meat in the counter at the butcher's, being eyed by an elderly housewife who is wondering whether she should make a stew or a pie out of him. And before then he could also remember what he wanted to say.

Talking about shops, sometimes Momotaro wondered how someone could live with eyes like that. They must be very useful in combat, but how does someone go to the grocery store and ask for a liter of milk, some eggs and luncheon meat and not be arrested for mental harassment?

Well, Mayuri probably never went to the grocery, decided Momotaro and shook his head, trying to forget about the rather disturbing image. He should get back to the situation at hand, he reminded himself. So where was he? Oh yes! Under the table… Or rather, explaining what he was doing there.

Mayuri impatiently raised a dark eyebrow. "Yes?"

Momotaro, for lack of any faster explanation, only lifted the brush in his hand with a hopeful smile, but the grimace on the other man's face immediately ensured him that all hope was futile.

He sighed heavily. He couldn't understand how could he end up in such a situation. He was an officer after all, and Mayuri was only his subordinate, a less than unimportant rookie. He shouldn't be under such a mental pressure only from talking to him.

"What... what can I do for you, Kurotsuchi-san?" he asked.

Mayuri throw a scroll on the desk.

"Now that I have finished the work for today, here is a list of a few documents I need from the library. I have marked their finding place after the titles."

What was this supposed to mean? Momotaro didn't get it. He could only stare at him in disbelief.

"On the paper." the other man said with dry scorn and pushed the paper a bit closer to him.

Momotaro gave up. He still wasn't sure why Mayuri thought it was important to show him his library list, but it was clear he was expected to read it. As he proceeded from one finely calligraphied line to the other, a terrible suspicion started to take shape in his soul.

"But Kurotsuchi-san!" he breathed.

"What?"

"These documents are... they are all in the restricted area!"

"Yes."

"But only officers are allowed to borrow books and documents from the restricted area!"

Mayuri looked him up and down with a mocking disdain in his eyes.

"You are not really a sharp one, are you?" He sighed under his breath. "Why do you think I'm telling you this? You are my commanding officer. I'm not allowed to take them, so you will."

For a brief second the idea popped up in Momotaro's head that he should probably ask exactly why he should do this (not to mention, what Mayuri needed those documents for) but the look on the others face silenced him. There was no point in arguing, all he could squeeze out of himself was but one question:

"Now?"

"Of course!" snapped the blue haired rookie impatiently. "I have other things to do, too."

Momotaro swallowed nervously. "I... I'm sorry, but I can't."

Mayuri shot an angry, disbelieving glare at him as if he didn't hear him right.

"What?"

Momotaro slowly raised the brush again, with an even more hopeful smile. Mayuri's glare slowly grew from disbelieving to murderous.

"Yes, I saw it the first time, too."

"I... I mean..." Momotaro took a deep breath and explained. He told him everything about the newspaper, the article, and the deadline. Surprisingly, as he spoke, Mayuri listened him silently with narrowed eyes. Then he took the paper from the desk, read the words on the top of it, and pushed it under Yamada's nose.

"Is that all you have written?" he asked in an unfathomable voice and Momotaro could only nod.

Mayuri sighed deeply and sat down to the desk.

"Go to the library!" he commanded. "I will write this." And with that, he grabbed a brush from the table and opened the little, varnished box of the ink stone.

Momotaro didn't dare to believe his ears. Someone willing to save him sounded simply too good to be true, and imagining Mayuri as such a savior was just over the definition of unbelievable. Something was amiss here; it had to be. He had just opened his mouth to voice his doubts when the other man's hand stopped above the paper.

"Just to inform you," he said without even looking at him, "It is half past eleven. So make haste or you will have to gather your non-existent ideas by yourself. Or do you want to tell me you feel like you could finish this in time?"

"Well... no. But..."

"Of course not," smirked Mayuri cynically, "Now go, and let me work. Shoo-shoo!"

And with that he stood up, pushed Momotaro out the office door, and slammed it behind him. The boy just stood there for a long moment, still clutching the library list in his hands.

-oOo-

The librarian (an old woman with one of those half-moon shaped glasses that had seemingly no other purpose than adding a very piercing effect to the wearer's glances), when finished reading the list Momotaro handed her, shot him a long, disbelieving stare.

"Is that all?"

Momotaro felt the chill creeping up in his spine. He had a very bad feeling about this. Librarians never looked at him this way when he tried to take out books, but of course the titles of those books usually started with words like 'adventure', 'rubies' or sometimes, when he felt really wild, 'dragons'. They definitely never contained words like 'verocosa' or 'anammox' or 'chromoblastomycosis'. Really, he had never even known before that such words existed.

And then the librarian asked the question he feared from the start.

"Yamada-san, what do you need these books for?"

He felt the sweat running down on his back. He needed a lie fast, and a good one too...

"I... I should widen my knowledge and wanted to read something new! Something exciting I've never seen before!"

The woman looked at him for a long moment as if he'd grown another head, but eventually said nothing, only shrugged and left for the other room leaving Momotaro alone.

He wanted to scream! This was the worst lie he ever heard. Something exciting? What kind of sick pervert would find a book with the titlechromoblastowhatever exciting? Well, perhaps Mayuri would, he realized, but he wasn't sure if this counted as an extenuating circumstance for him. He would bet anything that the librarian never believed him for a moment, but she hadn't pressed him any further, and when she appeared again she held a huge pack of dusty scrolls and tomes in her arms. Momotaro had to sign a few papers, and he was free to go. Then he ran out of the building as fast as he dared under the book pile.

When he entered the office again, Mayuri was still sitting in his chair. He was leaning back comfortably, resting his chin on the little tent formed by his fingers, and staring motionlessly at the wall with unfocused eyes, and there was no paper to be seen on the desk or anywhere around him.

Momotaro started to get worried. He wondered if he should ask, but it seemed too straightforward. After all Mayuri had helped him out, and being impolite to him now wouldn't be too nice. So he just put down the scrolls on the table and waited, hoping the other man would catch his meaning.

Mayuri's eyes lit up. "It was time for you to arrive! What took you so long?"

"I'm sorry. The library was crowded and the librarian lady was busy."

Mayuri answered only with a smug snort, and opened up one of the scrolls. Momotaro just stood there and waited to see his half of their agreement, but Mayuri clearly didn't let his presence bother him.

"Kurotsuchi-san?"

"What?"

"The article? May I get it now?"

"I have handed it in," he said plainly without looking up.

"Wha... Why?"

He pointed at the clock on the wall. Its hands stood on quarter to one.

"I was right on time. The man from the editing office just arrived to take the reports and articles. I told them you sent it."

"But I wanted to read it!"

"You will be able to read it when the new magazine is published. Just like everyone else," he said smugly and grabbed the scrolls from the desk. "Now, if you don't mind I don't have time to chat with you. I must read these," he said and stormed out the door, just as he came.

-oOo-

When Urahara went to work that morning the offices were already empty. This was nothing surprising, of course; at eleven o' clock, most shinigami were ear deep in their jobs in the labs or in one of the computer rooms; no matter what a certain captain believed about flexible working hours.

Urahara didn't mind it though. He didn't want to meet with anyone right now. In the past few days even if he went to the office he usually did nothing other than stare at the walls. After the failure of his last experiment he couldn't find the motivation to continue the work.

Yet he was in a good mood today. Humming a soft little tune that he made up on the way, he waltzed down among the tables to his office door in his loudly clapping sandals with a mug of cocoa in his hands. It wasn't even as much of a tune as a bunch of sounds put after each other without any kind of planning or order, but he enjoyed them nonetheless.

He had almost reached the door when something caught his attention. A magazine was lying on one of the desks, with the picture of a young, jovially grinning shinigami in the colors of the academy on the cover.

For a moment Kisuke halted and glanced around in the room. It wouldn't be nice to take someone's magazine without permission. Yet reading at your workplace is also not too nice.

He considered this for a moment, then picked up the newspaper and casually started flipping through the pages, reading everything that seemed at least moderately interesting. When he reached the squad articles, he abruptly stopped. Should anyone have been in the office at moment to see the whole situation, they could have noted many oddities in Captain Urahara's behavior.

First were his eyebrows. They climbed unbelievably high on his forehead, while his eyes started to grow slightly similar in size to a dessert plate. As he proceeded lower and lower on the page, his everyday smile (which he wore strictly on weekdays, as opposed to the special one for holidays) was gone, replaced by a surprised grimace.

A good observer could have also noticed how the look in his eyes turned uncharacteristically cold as he shut the magazine and threw it into the paper bin with a sharp move.

However, the office was empty, so nobody could have seen anything. No one was there to see him walking up and down in his office for the rest of the day with that spaced-out look on his face that always foretold the birth of a new invention.

Nobody was there when he locked himself up in the laboratory after the sun had already set and the streets of Seireitei fell silent. And so at 7 o' clock the next morning, when people went to work, nobody understood why Urahara was already there even though it was still so early, and why he peeked into every paper bin he could find, and why he was so disappointed over the fact that all of them had been emptied over the night...

a.n.: No, Momotaro and Hanataro are not the same person!