Kisuke had just finished getting ready to rest for the night, his chest heavy with the thought he would have to give up Mayuri tomorrow. The blonde had yet to call the one whom commissioned for the doll, but he reasoned with himself that it was too late to call and it would be better to do so in the morning. Just as Kisuke switched off his light there was a very loud clattering noise coming from his workshop. His eyes narrowed before he cautiously move to his staircase that lead down to his store front. Urahara had never had problems with being robbed before, but he was not ignorant to the idea it could happen. The doll maker let out a soft, shaky sigh before descending the stairs silently. It took him a few minutes to examine the main room in the dark. After discovering everything was as it was when he retired, the blonde turned his gaze to his workshop, fear creeping into his heart.
What if they were here for Mayuri? He shook his head to clear the thought. That was a rather silly thought. When did he begin to see his creation as a person? Kisuke’s attachment worried himself, but the more pressing fear of an intruder made it easier to push the concerning thoughts to the back of his mind. The dollmaker quietly made his way to his work area only to find Mayuri and his shipping container turned over on the floor. At this point Kisuke flicked on the lights. he was less concerned about being hurt and more concerned whether the doll had suffered any damage.
“You poor thing. It looks like someone shoved you off the table.” Kisuke immediately moved the box before shifting to lift Mayrui up. “Poor, lovely Mayuri. I wish you could tell me who did this to you. Let us make sure you are all right. You are much to delicate to take too large of a fall.” His nervousness made it easy to fall into his habits of speaking to the doll. The blonde set the doll on a chair nearby to make it easier to check for cracks.
“It looks like you are well. I am so very glad for that,” he could not help the relieved sigh that escaped as he ran his worn hands through a mangled mop of hair. “You took a few years off my life peacock. It also looks like your yukata is ripped. I will try to find you another one.”
Kisuke began to pick up the few items that were knocked over in his mad frenzy to make sure the doll was alright. After calming his nerves he turned to look back at the blue haired creation. “It seems there is no one else but you and me. I don’t think the table is too lopsided but I can check it—” In the middle of his deduction on what could have harmed the doll….it blinked. Kisuke rubbed his eyes frantically. I must be much more exhausted than I imagined. He took in a shaky breath only for it to happen again.
“I must be losing my mind.” Kisuke moved closer, gazing into the golden hues.
It took a moment for Mayuri to take stock of what had happened after his fall. Upon impact he remembered a distinct sound reverberating in his hollow head, followed by the thought that he could have come close to oblivion. He decided he didn’t like this thought and put it away to be ruminated on later. For now, there were more pressing concerns.
The prison of fabric around Mayuri had increased its strangle hold on him, now more tangled in his limbs than ever before. Glassy eyes rolled in their sockets as he thought about a solution to his predicament, but before he could attempt a second try at movement a presence made itself known. A new sensation emerged in the doll then–the feeling of something within hammering its way out of his chest. Mayuri’s instincts took over. He stayed limp and vacant where he lay.
The doll did not know what to expect, but he never for a second thought to doubt that sensation. The pounding in his chest continued as the thing moved towards him. Silent and slow it came down the stairs and emerged into the light.Â
Mayuri didn’t know how he knew it was a man, but he knew it to be so. The first feature that struck him was the size. Urahara seemed just a bit bigger in every way and something about that intrigued the doll. Without moving a digit, he studied the man as he drew closer.Â
The pounding in his chest increased as Urahara took hold of him and lifted him up. But this close he could see the blond hair and gray eyes and marveled at the sight. This man was nothing like the objects sitting on those shelves. This man was alive. Alive. A curious concept that popped into his mind unbidden but concrete. The doll could not comprehend the depths of that word, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt how it applied to Urahara and himself.Â
Still processing this influx of information Mayuri almost flinched when Urahara began to speak. And not only did he speak but he seemed to be addressing Mayuri.
The doll listened as the man nattered on. He could recognize the words by themselves, but strung together they hardly made sense. Mayuri decided he could tolerate the man’s singsong voice and focused hard on comprehension. Amidst all of Urahara’s comments there was one word that stood out above the rest: Mayuri. The doll liked the way it sounded, but the man didn’t say it enough. He just continued on with his incessant chattering.
Mayuri wished he would stop. And so he blinked. That seemed to get the man’s attention.Â
As if working an atrophied muscle Mayuri opened his mouth and echoed back Urahara’s very words. “I must be losing my mind.”