Chapter Text
The tap of a metal can on the desktop is enough to startle Kisuke awake, louder than a shot to shake off the fragments of his dreams.
A late night at the office is nothing new, so he doesn't think much to wake up at his desk. His mouth tastes stale and his back aches from leaning over all night to sleep, but it's not even the first time this week it's happened.
His boss stands beside his desk, eyeing him with a disapproving frown which mars her normally pleasant features. Aizen is polite, perfectly mannered, and efficient at her role as the head of their department. Seldom is a penny misplaced that is not found, like seldom is there a hair out of place on her head. He'd think she was too put together if she had no flaws otherwise.
"Urahara-san, you do know that most people go home at the end of the day." Even her reprimand is mild.
Kisuke smiles, weakly, too scattered to really protest. Wary of what he might say so early, so he turns to look at the can of coffee on the desk rather than to think too hard on why Aizen always manages to rub him the wrong way. Somehow too close, too watchful - always.
"Thank you."
Aizen only sighed for the perfunctory gratitude, hand settled onto her hip the posture of a pending lecture that Kisuke was all too familiar with.
But then the deafening roar that shook the very walls drew his attention. Kisuke had started to his feet without even realizing, hair on end at the sound of something dangerous. Breath held and poised. Only to jerk in place at the loud sound of shattering glass as the office windows out to the streets splintered and spidered.
Unconcerned, Aizen wandered closer to it with a smile on her face.
"It would appear they got here faster than anticipated."
Too stunned to ask Kisuke stayed put, arm raised to protect himself when the window burst inwards, but not before he had seen the reflection in the glass of a man almost identical to Aizen herself.
Frozen he can only watch as Aizen seemed to transform before his eyes from the mild, too attentive manager into a cold, sly woman. Expression bored even amid such chaos. Enough to keep him in place to offer no assistance and to fear putting his back to her to flee.
There is a whisper in a woman's voice to run to fight another day.
Another roar makes the air vibrate around them. Physical force to it somehow that makes the shards of glass scatter further over the floor and desks.
"Don't worry, our game isn't over yet Kisuke Urahara." Aizen almost coos at him, voice dripping with condescension.
"What do you -"
Kisuke can get out nothing further as the world fractures along the seams in the air he couldn't see previously, breaking down. Then there is nothing.
The tap of a metal can on the desktop is enough to startle Kisuke awake, louder than a shot to shake off the fragments of his dreams.