a formal affair | urayoru

iv

From the window in his hotel room Kisuke Urahara watched snow fall gently down to cover the street below him.

Yoruichi had gone a while ago, saying she needed time. How much time, Urahara wasn't sure but he knew that when she was gone it was always too long. Unable to sit still he had taken off. He did not particularly care where he wound up, just that it was nowhere that reminded him of her. He wasn't sure how long he had been traveling, just that he had stopped when he was told that everything was booked for the next day already. He was not known for making plans in advance. Nor for thinking things through. But he was good at thinking on his feet and so he had found a hotel and settled down before the snow.

Down below him he watched couples and families running around the snow covered street with brightly wrapped packages. WIth a dull ache he realized it was Christmas Eve. Tessai was back in Japan, he didn't know where Yoruichi was. Shinji and the others had long ago gone off somewhere as well. Unable to just sit there Urahara pulled on a coat and walked out of the hotel and into the snow covered streets. Maybe he could walk long enough that he would be far too exhausted to remember how miserable his life was at the moment. He pulled his hat low on his head and walked faster.

The people and packages began to blur together until he found himself in another part of town. Spreading before him, covered in frost, was a public garden. Instead of the bright colors he knew usually decorated places such as this, it was covered in white. In the center of the place was a large pond, already frozen over. He could see a handful of families without skates even making their way across the frost, their laughter ringing out across the place. Spanning the pond was a bridge. The large globes of light on it cast patches of light on the ice of the pond under it. A little girl in a pink jacket was using it as a spotlight for her ice skating routine while her brother looked on, behaving only because it was christmas. Despite his mood Urahara smiled faintly at the simply joy that seemed to be present in the place.

A few couples were milling around the edges of the pond. Leaning against a tree, under the shelter of its branches, despite the cold he saw a man sketching whatever caught his fancy. Two boys streaked past him and a moment later he watched a little girl pick up a handful of snow and lob it at them, hitting one square on. The three collapsed in a fit of giggles as their parents came to them with promises of hot chocolate and Santa in the morning. As she picked up her daughter the woman caught his eye. Her lips curved into a smile as she whispered something to the girl who grinned and nodded eagerly.

"Merry Christmas!" she called, waving a mittened hand.

Urahara had to smile at that as he raised his hand and returned the wave. With nothing better to do he walked towards the bridge, his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark green coat. Around his neck he wore a bright wool scarf but he couldn't help but think of the Kuchiki's. The Kuchiki's meant the Shihon's and the Shihon's meant Yoruichi. Frustrated with himself he walked over to the edge of the bridge and leaned against the narrow rail. In the center of the frozen pond he could see a small island. He imagined in spring ducks lived there. At the moment the only thing there were two people laughing as they slipped around the side of the island, their shoes gliding across the smooth surface of the pond.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of someone coming up the steps that lead to the bridge. He could have sworn they were wearing orange, but he could have been mistaken. Besides, orange didn't necessarily mean Yoruichi. Though he would probably always think of her in orange from the ball where they had shared their first kiss and she would probably always think of him in dark green for the same reason. He turned back to the pond with a shake of his head. He knew he missed her but still, it had been a long time and it wasn't as though he had any claim to her.

Still he was a warrior and he felt eyes on the back of his neck. He almost didn't turn around. He almost didn't want to turn around. If it was her, he wasn't sure what he'd do. If it was her—if it was her he was equally unsure. She had just left. when she said she needed time it was not with her words. It was with a note that was left on his pillow when he woke up one morning fully expecting her to be there. Whoever was looking at him was obviously not going away. Apparently he was taking too long because the confirmation of the person's identity came when she spoke his name in a voice he had almost forgotten.