this is not a love song
Once upon a time I promised misao_ Urahara/Youruichi, but somehow I´ve never felt like my writing skills were up to the beauty and darkness this pairing means to me. Not that now my writing skills are any better, but talking to autophanous she mentioned she´d like to see some Urahara/Youruichi/Soi Fong and I had this lying around and though well, maybe I can dust if off a bit and see what comes of it.
Urahara/Youruichi and Youruichi/Soin Fong so beware (I think it´s the first time I´ve attempted yuri, mmm)
Rated PG-13 but a lot of suggestive stuff so leaning on the R.
Spoilers, of course.
(and yes, right now I love Kubo Tite more than I love my life, Urahara/Youruichi and naked!Ishida in just one hapter, keep up the good work!)
The first time he kisses her against a wall of stone, the sharp rocks grinding into her back. Yoruichi can´t process ant of it, just how different a man´s kiss feels.
This is not what I am, she repeats, I´m not supposed to feel like this.
She decided long ago that love for a man was dangerous and foolish, that love itself should be banned from all hearts.
"We´ll never fall in love," Yoruichi said, laughing.
Soi Fong nodded furiously.
"Agreed," and she kissed her.
(kissing her is like drinking champagne from a paper cup, sofisticated and intimate, and it has something to do with being young, terribly young)
But Soi Fong has narrow ankles and you can feel her whole being pressing a hand against her hip, her breathing in each of her bones. She is soft and hard, pitiless, and it´s so easy for Yoruichi to love her, to cradle her body in her arms while they both stretch their hands to the sky, because the world is theirs, because Soi Fong has small hands and graceful fingers and she never builds a cage with her body, trying to make her stay.
Urahara is none of this. He has wide shoulders, to begin with, and his smile is like nothing Yoruichi has ever seen. He has a way of grabbing her writs and pulling her against his chest; it hurts and she can barely breath but Yoruichi realizes that Urahara hurts even more in the process. He puts all his weight on her, she is trapped, she is caged, she fights and tries to escape, but Urahara is stronger and he smiles at her. Yoruichi smiles back, amazed at her own anxiety, how it tastes much like freedom.
"It´s just your blood rushing," he tells her, and the precision in his voice reminds her of Soi Fong. "It´s not freedom."
(he is right, though, she would find out some time later; it is only a prelude to freedom, freedom would be when he asks her will you come with me? and she would feel like drowning, thinking he would be leaving, leaving, leaving)
Youruichi decides she will not see Urahara again after that.
Soi Fong is the first person who makes her cry.
"But I´m choosing you!"
"No, you are not. You idiot."
Soi Fong tastes like the ocean she has never seen; it´s more real than ever before and Youruichi simply can´t let go of her body, her soft hair against Youruichi´s face when she cries, the low, desperate noises against her shoulder, muffled, embarrassed.
She has never looked so beautiful to Youruichi.
In the end that´s how Youruichi knows Soi Fong was right.
She has decided she will never see him again.
"I am at peace, with her."
"If peace is what you want..."
"Yes," she almost cries out.
He shrugs, because he knows the answer to all this.
Youruichi resents him like she has never resented anything, or anyone. Not his actions, not their affair; she resents him. His very existence. His rough hands, how delicate they are on her skin, she resents the outline of his face in the night, when she is almost already sleeping on a foreign bed or when she is almost already gone, but something draws her inside a couple of seconds longer. It´s more than that (the whole scenery, four a.m., when she wishes she liked smoking or at least they were wearing trenchcoats), she hates him.
(i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, she whispers into his ear when he is asleep, but she will never know if he has ever heard)
Youruichi hates his kisses, his hair, that silly smile curved on his thin lips like a trapped animal, wounded but still fighting, she hates his fingers around her wrist when he grabs her and brings her to his chest or smashes her against the wall, the fingernails into her skin and sometimes there is blood-
-and those times he would kiss her wrist, later, after the fighting and the screaming, sprawled lazily on his bed and Youruichi would forget the whole world outside, she would know nothing but his lips on the palm of her hand and then down and down, tracing the path to her elbow.
She hates every bit of their time together, his stupid sense of humor and how she can feel his glance and his smile on her back, and the way he sits on the floor barefooted and expects her to fill the hollow between his legs. She hates that he is patient and anxious at the same time, how he turns around if you don´t give him enough attention, the calm and tight tone of his voice and his hands, always his hands, how she can feel them reaching her skin one second before they make actual contact, how she can feel him, and know when he is in a room or not, and know when he is happy or not, even if they don´t see each other, she hates seeing him, she hates not seeing him.
(leaving is not the answer, because what Youruichi hates the most is the person she has become when she is with him)
"I hate you!" she finishes-
-and the second "I hate you" comes muted against his chest.
He smells like sadness and infinite loss, like raw and hopeless need. She hides in the hollow of his neck, his hands big and safe, holding her head, holding her life, containing her thoughs and fears like a dam to a river.
"Whatever you want to do is okay," he says softly; this is new, she thinks and thinks he has so many faces that all of them are true, and his, in the end. He has never hidden from her, really. Youruichi clings to his shoulders, not sure whose fall she is trying to catch.
Whatever you want-
(her fingernails into his back)
-Youruichi wants never to let go of him.
"Forever lasts so long," he makes some tea; the sky breaks with monsters once more, he is tired, he is here and Youruichi wants to touch him, to raise some bruises on his skin, bite him, find a way to say I missed you.
She sees the way his eyes go unconciously wide and then very narrow at the mention of Ukitake, of Shunsui, something like longing and old music playing through a broken gramophone, she´ll never know that kind of feeling, that kind of ties that are not devastating but that pierce your heart whenever they get you off-guarded.
Youruichi doesn´t tell him about meeting Soi Fong, about her soft and sharp knees still and still her beautiful lips curling into cruelty and resentment; Youruichi doesn´t tell him she felt nothing seeing her again, just blank, a void, a hole in her heart.
She presses her forehead against his back, listening to the rattled noise of this ghostly night, of a city of fire that doesn´t know it is burning, of invisible monsters and creatures your nightmares are not sick enough to imagine. She wants to say: Funny how everything in my life fades but you.
Urahara smiles when she can´t see him, and because she can´t see him; she is back, she is here, and he wants to take her in his arms, like they are still young and uncivilized, and tangle his fingers in her hair, make her scream, make her die of this or him dying for her, inside her, the only warm corner of his universe, because he doesn´t know exactly how to say I missed you.
He circles her wrist with his fingers, holding to her embrace.
I know, she says, closing her eyes.