The Strongest Sense Linked to Memory The blonde passed his menu to the waiter, who smiled curtly as he scribbled on his notepad, changing Yoruichi's soup to a salad as she'd requested. "Well... I hope this place is as good as I've heard," Kisuke told his date with a valiant attempt at a lighthearted grin. "Yeah, but most likely there's just a fry cook from some lousy burger pit sittin' in the kitchen." Urahara chuckled along with Yoruichi at her comment, almost convinced that they'd broken the ice at last until she immediately went back to surveying their admittedly opulent surroundings, her golden eyes focusing on a Van Gogh hanging on the far wall as if trying to assess its authenticity. Kisuke thought it rather ironic that in spite of their new status as a 'couple' and Yoruichi's rather forward displays of 'affection' when they were in school, now that no one they knew was around she had situated herself across from him at the table, ignoring his chivalrous attempt to pull out her chair, and apart from her recent observation hadn't really spoken for the duration of the evening. She did her best to appear alert and interested in the present but every so often her eyes would cloud over ever-so-slightly, her fingers fumbling absentmindedly with the array of silverware before her or the gold zigzag bracelet dangling from her left wrist. She'd never been so distant before all this, taking a seat beside him without thought wherever they happened to be, joking and teasing whenever she opened that surprisingly delicate mouth of hers. But then, it would have been foolish for him to think that with things being how they were Yoruichi would have displayed the same characteristics she always had. "So... I was wondering how you thought the test went today in Current Events--" "I'll be right back," Yoruichi interrupted as she put her cloth napkin on the table and slid out of her seat, headed for the restroom. "Don't start if they bring our food, okay?" Kisuke nodded, glancing at his lifelong companion as she walked away, the hem of her red dress swaying in time with her movements. Kisuke wondered, as he slid a finger lazily across the rim of his water glass, what they were doing here. Not even simply the question of this particular restaurant, when he knew they both felt uncomfortable with places that expected a formal dress-code, but more what she was doing here with HIM, how they'd ended up like this-- so far from the fantasy of her happily clinging to him, devoted to him like a little lost puppy that he'd harbored somewhere in the back of his mind for the greater part of his adolescent life. By the time Yoruichi returned she looked slightly disappointed to find that only the salads had arrived, as though she'd been counting on the superstition that your meal appeared faster when you went to the bathroom. She slid back into her seat, giving her date a hint of a smile as she eyed the twin plates of assorted greenery topped liberally with tomato and squash. "Hey, nice to see you showed some restraint." "Me?" Kisuke asked skeptically. "I don't seem to recall you showing any at my birthday last year. Kuukaku was fuming about you the entire next day for having to go out and find another cake at the last second." A smile flashed on Yoruichi's face at the reminiscence, chuckling about how little he'd changed in a year while her hands went about cutting the lettuce into smaller bites. "And don't even get me started on when we all went out and you ate half the pizza--" "Okay, okay! Jeez, you make me sound like some sort of p--" Yoruichi stopped as she glanced down at her plate, realizing that she'd cut her salad up too small, the leaves and tomato chunks less than a coin's diameter in size. When had she ever done that, the young woman wondered quietly to herself. The only person she'd ever met that would eat like that, so meticulously and carefully was... "...You okay?" "Uh..." Yoruichi managed as she forced the pang of guilt away, smiling a bit too wide as she did so, "...Yeah, I'm fine." Kisuke didn't ask anything else as they ate in silence, which suited Yoruichi fine; the bubble of apprehension that had welled up in her stomach was making it rather difficult to enjoy her meal as it was. ---------- Keep breathing, Soi told herself as she walked up the stairs to get to her next set of classes, a small stack of her heavier textbooks cradled precariously under her arm. And though it was indeed a challenge for the already skinny girl to manage the weight, her efforts to focus herself had nothing to do with the task at hand. Yoruichi had often crossed paths with her on this staircase, so after the hammer had fallen she'd avoided it on purpose. But due to congestion in the other stairwell and losing a few of her precious minutes to a forgotten notebook, the freshman had been faced with her deepest dread. But no matter how much she cared about Yoruichi her father was right: she wasn't the only woman in the world, and more than that, there was no reason in the world for her to avoid Yoruichi. She'd never shown any fear of Ichimaru when he'd tried to control her, make her afraid and force her into a little box of terrible routine, and she wouldn't let Yoruichi have that sort of inhibiting influence on her now that it was over. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice the person coming down the stairs on the wrong side until they'd collided, the students behind Soi brushing past her or cursing under their breaths as they hurried to class. "Oww... I'm sorry, I-- Oh." The Chinese girl felt her voice catch as Yoruichi pulled herself up, looking equally surprised, as they hadn't spoken since Valentine's-- a little over two weeks prior, much less made an effort for direct contact. "...Hey," Yoruichi said quietly, her smile light and pleasant. Neutral. The shorter of the two nodded in response, but said nothing. It was harder to be focused when her senses were once again being assaulted by the girl she'd so long adored, but she was thankful that at least her face wasn't giving anything away, although as a skill she'd practiced most of her life this wasn't much of an accomplishment. Wordlessly, the senior bent down and helped Soi gather up her things, readjusting her hold on her bookcase's handle when she felt it start to slip. The older girl didn't know why she felt so frustrated all of a sudden, or rather she didn't think that Soi failing to glance over at her, her face not burning red had anything to do with it. She was so used to being greeted with a nervous, almost-stammer of 'Yoruichi-san' that to be treated by Soi like just another person felt strange. "So... how have you been?" Another surprise. Soi had initiated a conversation with HER, rather than the other way around, and though she wanted to believe there was a hint of silent longing buried in the younger girl's tone the fact was that she was speaking in a perfectly composed manner. As if they were a couple that had broken up long ago, but had somehow managed to get past it and be friends. Just friends. Again. "...I've been all right. Kisuke and I spent the weekend together." Yoruichi didn't know WHY she said the last bit; it implied too much that hadn't actually occured. She hadn't slept with Kisuke yet, a feat that she normally would have done already save for something holding her back that she couldn't-- or wouldn't-- acknowledge. Even so, Yoruichi felt another tiny barb in her chest when Soi didn't seem affected by her rather suggestive insinuation, as if she'd WANTED the girl to react negatively. To get jealous. "Thanks," Soi muttered kindly as Yoruichi handed her the last of the books, sliding the whole stack back into the crook of her arm. "Do you need some help getting to class?" Yoruichi asked, watching the freshman already begin to fight back through the crowd that she'd, quite honestly, forgotten about. "No thanks. Bye, Shihouin-san!" Soi smiled as she waved goodbye, disappearing into the second floor hallway. Once she knew she was out of Yoruichi's sight she let out the breath she'd been holding, a slight feeling of exhileration clutching at her. She couldn't believe how easy that had been-- to just have a normal encounter with Yoruichi, without the feeling that the world was crashing down around her or that her heart would burst out of her chest. True, she did feel an ache still, but soon enough, she assured her self, even that would be gone eventually. ---------- "There's the last of the whites," Kisuke declared as he put the detergent in the washer and hit the start button, closing the lid as water filled the base. "...When was the last time you did laundry, anyway?" Yoruichi chuckled, giving a shrug at the blonde's question; she honestly had forgotten about it over the last few weeks, as so much had been going on in that time. As such, she had accumulated a rather large mountain of used clothing, which wasn't much of a problem due to her rather liberal closet space. "Seriously, I know you don't like doing it, but I can't be here to help you out all the time." "Yeah, yeah..." Yoruichi muttered, rolling her eyes just slightly at her companion's nagging. "Of all the things you could be anal about, I don't know why it's this." Kisuke just smiled as he grabbed a basket full of clean clothes, thankful that none of Yoruichi's underwear was in the pile. "I'll be back to help you with the rest." "Nah, it's okay," Yoruichi insisted. "...I'm just gonna fold what came out of the dryer and then I'll be up, okay?" "All right. Don't keep me waiting; the movie's gonna start in a half-hour." The dark-skinned girl waved him off as she began rifling through the dryer-warmed garments, making as little effort to ensuring that they were folded properly as she could. She'd gotten halfway down the pile, grabbing the next white shirt that she could reach when she found it. Soi's shirt-- the one she'd worn the night of her father's accident, the white medium that was still too big for her, that had become mingled with her discarded turtleneck and the rest of their clothes-- was there in her hands, apparently forgotten by the young girl when she'd left abruptly and neglected by the owner of the house. Yoruichi just stared at it for a moment, overwhelmed at what it reminded her of and struggling with the immediate desire to throw it away. She had to get rid of it-- it would look too awkward to give it back to Soi, especially after their encounter on the stairs. Yoruichi hadn't wanted to admit it, much less say it, but something about the way Soi had acted... like she really was over it... had left her feeling strangely empty, confused as the girl had walked away, if only slightly. But this was what she'd wanted, the upperclassman reminded herself. For Soi to get over her... wasn't it? And if it was, why did she get the sense that it was HER that had been abandoned, and not content that her efforts had succeeded? She didn't realize that she'd been squeezing the shirt so hard until the slight prick of her fingernails registered on her palms through the fabric. She hadn't meant to, but it was still warm, so warm that... Before she'd realized what she was doing Yoruichi had pressed the garment to her face, the hem scrunched up in her left hand while she gently held it along the collar, her eyes sliding shut as she took in the scent of the soap that still clung to it, assaulted immediately by the aroma of clean linen. Of her. It was such a simple, unspectacular scent, one she'd never particularly noticed before but now it made Yoruichi tremble, made her breathe it out a little slower than she normally would have, as if her whole body had linked the aroma so irrevocably with Soi that it was reluctant to let it escape her lungs altogether. Yoruichi was beginning to think that Soi really was there, could almost swear she felt the contour of her shoulders and back between her arms, her warm breath along the back of her neck, whispering her name over and over in that voice that said she saw no one in the world but her. But it WAS just the shirt, and after a few reluctant moments her sanity returned, making her pull the clothing away as if she'd been doing something abhorrent. She immediately held the shirt over the nearby wastebasket, but instead of letting go she could swear her fingers simply gripped it tighter. A few minutes passed, in which the upperclassman stared at it, willing herself to relinquish it, to just let it go, to stop thinking about it once and for all. She nearly cursed aloud as she threw it into the basket with the clean clothes, burying it as she threw the rest of the load on top, doing her absolute best to ignore the fact that all her laundry had started to smell like Soi. Yoruichi vowed to at least stuff it in the back of her closet, hoping that without a visual cue she wouldn't keep getting this gradually powerful ache in the pit of her stomach. ---------- Urahara walked back up the stairs, not needing to be told what had caused such a strong reaction in Yoruichi, knowing that it was something she'd obviously not wanted anyone to see. He said nothing as Yoruichi walked up the stairs with her clothes, pretending to be interested in the weather forecast on the TV even as he caught Yoruichi's surprisingly poor attempt to mask her inner turmoil. This wasn't right for either of them, for anyone. It killed him to acknowledge that he was actually wanting to let Yoruichi go, the girl he'd held a torch over for so long, but Kisuke knew that something had to be done.
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