Miss Murder.

Urahara stood there, in the middle of the night, staring at the damp canvas of an almost finished landscape; a painting of the ice cold artic… an embodiment of the ruthless climate, and a desolate world. He peered at it closely, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized his work; taking in every detail, spotting every error. The quick, short dashes of white that was the wind and snow… His lips tightened; his eyes then strayed over to the deep glittering blue of the water with bright foam coating the waves' tips; and then scanned the pale, harsh, raw strength of the cold ice.

He dabbed at the drying paint, it wasn't perfect. It was far from perfect. The color was too solid; the brushstrokes too unnatural. The water looked still and had no depth, and the sky was like a ceiling. The sky was supposed to be unreachable, but it looked like a ceiling. It shouldn't look like that. He didn't want to be deceived again; he wanted to know what he could reach, what he could touch. And what he couldn't. He felt the frustration that he had tried to quell for so long rise within him, slowly and lazily like a snake uncoiling and rearing its head. The bitter memories came into sharp focus once more; no matter how hard he wished he could forget.

Hey Miss Murder can I?
Hey Miss Murder can I?
Make beauty stay if I,
Take my life?

She was free as the wind, dangerous like the ocean, and cold as the ice. No man could keep her, for she always managed to elude their grasp. No man could shield themselves from her, for she always found a way in… and a way out. She felt no remorse, no pity. She broke the hearts of so many with simply a glance and a word, she let their dreams crumble around them, and she crushed their hopes beneath her heel, leaving both for the dead. And she never looked back. Not once.

Brought up as the first female and 22nd generational head of one of the four great, noble families, she was taught to be ruthless and cruel. Friendship? Love? Those words meant nothing. They were simply words. She had to be stronger, smarter, and faster than anyone else if she was to command the Special Forces. And she was.

With just a look they shook.
And heavens bowed before her.
Simply a look can break your heart.
The stars that pierce the sky;
She left them all behind.
We're left to wonder why.
She left us all behind.

Goddess of flash, and commander of the Mobile Corps; there was not a single being alive who could catch her. A wild, beautiful and untamable creature she was. No one could reach her, no matter how hard they tried. She led them on, even the most wily and cunning and quick. She played them by a string like a masterful puppeteer. And she couldn't care less if they were so intoxicated and obsessed with her, because she knew they could do nothing about it.

Back when he wasn't the exiled genius, simply genius, he remembered how he'd watch her taunt and tease all the others, letting them think one thing, when really it was the other. He remembered how she used to move through a room and everyone's eyes would be fixed upon her. They, as well as he, were always mesmerized by everything about her. Her vicious beauty, her mischievous smile… her words and her seductive and deceptive voice… they were entranced even by the way she moved. He remembered the elation, and the blissful ignorance he had felt, when she came to him. The jealously would always build unbearable layers of tension so thick, he often wondered why no one choked on it.

Hey Miss Murder can I?
Hey Miss Murder can I?
Make beauty stay if I,
Take my life?

He remembered catching a glimpse of Byakuya peering in through the window one night, when he was with Yoruichi as they lay exhausted, sweaty and entangled; wrapped in each others arms.

Byakuya had always been jealous. He always wanted all of Yoruichi's attention and affection to himself. Their famous game of tag was initiated so he could spend more time with her. It was simply one of the many futile attempts made. Then again, it wasn't completely unsuccessful. Little by little, Yoruichi had grown fond of him, but it wasn't the kind of fondness he wanted.

It went on like this for many years. Uncountable others would chase and follow her, but she spurned all advances. As only a noble of her heritage could. But again, she wasn't like most nobles. She didn't like her life. She hated all the rules and responsibilities. She wanted a life she could enjoy. Not one to waste away constantly fighting and ruling. She was tired being feared and treated like a goddess. She even hated it. But it was her life.

Urahara had never been perturbed of all the other lovers and admirers. He was the only one who could reap all the fruit from this completely untouched tree, because she let him. She chose him.

Dreams of her crash won't pass.
Oh, how they all adored her.
Beauty will last when spiraled down.
The stars that mystify.
She left them all behind.
And how her children cried.
She left us all behind.

Then she came along; a small and slender Chinese girl with deep sorrowful and entrancing dark eyes. Inconspicuous really. But Yoruichi noticed, and took her under her wing. She taught her everything, and treated her with the affection everyone else always longed for.

He didn't give much thought to it a first; having naively believed that Yoruichi could never leave him. So used to her coming back into his arms at the end of each day, he was. As she always did. But things had begun to change.

Hey Miss Murder can I?
Hey Miss Murder can I?
Make beauty stay if I,
Take my life?

He began to notice how Yoruichi never stopped thinking about the girl. Often, he would catch her gazing blankly into the distance when she actually spent what little time she did with him. She spoke with him less and less; and when she would speak it was of nothing but the girl. Her praises and thoughts for her priceless protégé… her longing and her care were evident through the way she spoke. So much so, even he couldn't dismiss it without feeling unease. Threatened even.

She was never really the same around him. Always preoccupied, always thinking of something… of someone else.

The time she spent with him was minimal… and as all these things that used to be one of life's constants began to diminish, the distance between them began to grow.

Then he was sentenced to exile. He decided to ask her to leave with him; to test her loyalty to soothe his incessant worries. She had been hesitant at first. But he coaxed her, even goaded her into following him. It was a lot to ask, he realized. But then again, he was the escape from her life. The escape she had always longed for. And he knew that. What he didn't know, she longed for something else equally; something that she even considered staying back for.

When the weeks progressed towards their departure, he was barely able to catch a glimpse of her. After spending so many nights alone he could only wonder what she was doing; he hated feeling unwanted… overlooked… left behind.

He would wait for her, at the end of each day. She'd drop by fleetingly and reassure him that she was still going; then she would ask him quietly, softly, whether he needed help with anything else. And he always said no. He didn't know why, but he did. And then she would disappear again.

He'd never worried before, but his growing insecurities and suspicion wormed its way into his heart. Reasoning with himself, trying restraint; he couldn't quell it. It didn't work. He saw how ruthlessly she abandoned everyone else and he knew how easily she could do it. A small voice inside him, the part of him that wanted to believe she wouldn't, nagged at him. Telling him he was being too nosy, too self-doubting. She wouldn't do that to him… But then the fiercer side of him cut in. The part of him that was not clouded, not deceived; the part of him that made him as smart as he was, that let him survive and rise the ranks to the most powerful of the Gotei 13. He knew she had the power. She could do it… but would she? He had to find out; he had to make sure.

The night before they left…

He came to a decision…

Slipping into the shadows, he followed her out.

What's the hook, the twist.
Within this verbose mystery?
I would gladly bet my life upon it.
That the ghost you love, your ray of light.
Will fizzle out without hope.
We're the empty set just floating through, wrapped in skin.
Ever searching for what we were promised.
Reaching for that golden ring we'd never let go,
but who would ever let us put our filthy hands upon it?

Yoruichi and Soi Fong were out searching for Hollows to eradicate. Worry gnawed at his mind, chewing away and derailing at all trains of organized thought. Of course, it was a little ironic that it wasn't the worry that they'd be in danger of being hurt or killed….

Night had fallen quickly. He had followed them silently into the glade, surrounded by a wall of majestic and tall Cherry Blossom trees; the perfect cover. He watched them, his heart thundering in his ears, his blood pounding through his veins; their forms were bathed in the pale glow of the moonlight, he felt pangs of jealousy every single time she looked at the girl. Then he saw her warp her arms around the girl's small frame. He saw how close they were standing together. Then how they had lain together in the grass; he saw the way she had spoken so softly, gently… the way she had held her so tenderly… and the way she seemed to feel so at ease… peaceful, and calm when the girl touched her back…

Witnessing too much, he ran. The branches rustled menacingly and reached out to whip his face as he crashed through the forest; the wind howled in his ears as it tried to drag him back. His hair flew over his face as he stumbled through, arms raised to protect his face. He felt the stinging welts on his skin and the leaves ruffling his hair.

His footsteps had sounded so loud, his breathing so ragged, he felt his chest constrict as the hands of cold truth wrapped its fingers tightly around his heart. He ran through the empty dark alleyways of Seireitei, almost on the verge of collapsing… he ran like he had never run before, fooling himself into thinking that if he didn't stop, he could outrun the realization.

As soon as the door to his room closed, he collapsed onto the floor, clutching his chest, feeling his heart hammer beneath his palm, as if it wanted to escape, just like he wanted to escape reality. One that was so painfully real now.

He thought he had her. He thought he had caught her. He thought he could never lose her and that she could never leave him. But had had the truth shoved right in his face. He couldn't deny it anymore. Her love and her care had never been bestowed upon him.

All the times they spent as one were uncountable.

But they didn't mean a thing.

They were intense… passionate.

She was wild… vicious.

Not gentle.

Not loving.

Hey Miss Murder can I?
Hey Miss Murder can I?
Make beauty stay if I
Take my life?

He was just another one of her toys. Another one of her playthings; he had simply lasted longer. In the end, he was simply another possession that had lost its worth. He was tossed aside, just like all the others.

How delusional he was. How could he catch the wind? How could he tame the ocean? How could he break the ice?

And that was it.

He simply couldn't.

He couldn't do what Soi Fong did so effortlessly.

And how was it so?

Then, their first week of exile together came to pass. She hadn't spoken at all. Almost as if she was mute. She would nod and shake her head and smile when he spoke. But she offered no words of her own.

He remembered watching her while she slept on the ground in the grass beside him. He remembered gazing at her peaceful visage, the way she curled up, subconsciously inching closer to the warmth of his body. He could see the slight rise and fall of her chest as her breath caressed his skin. Then a tear leaked out from beneath her tightly shut eyelids. Her lips moved. She murmured her name. Her name.

For the first time ages it felt, that he had heard her speak…

And it was to say her name.


She whispered so many gilded lies… but never to him.

She murdered so many dreams … but never his.

She always untouchable to everyone else…

But not to him…

Never to him.

Until then.

Until now.

Hey Miss Murder can I?
Hey Miss Murder can I?
Make beauty stay if I,
Take my life?

He stared at the painting, feeling sick. Angered.

Then with one fluent movement, he unsheathed Benihime and swung. The cold steel edge cleaved through the air and tore through the canvas. The tattered strips of his painted world fluttered to the ground where they lay, still.

Breathing heavily, he watched black and crimson bleed through, and swallow everything.

"Yoruichi," he whispered.

Song belongs to AFI (though I changed it slightly); characters belong to the creators of Bleach. Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Dark S3cret.

P.S. Reposted.