Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach nor its characters, and I am not making any money out of this fanfiction.
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Chapter One : Bone Deep
Ikkaku...
His behaviour had not changed - at least in the eyes of those who did not know him very well. He still carried himself with his trademark irritating, quiet pride. He still smiled his customary small, arrogant smirk. He still impeccably took care of most of the paperwork of the Eleventh Division. He most definitely was still that unpredictable and potentially dangerous ball of power that all his underlings had learned to fear over the years; those few members of the Zaraki Squads who had figured that maybe now, now that he must be mourning the death of his lover, was their perfect chance to finally beat the pretty-boy and take his seat, quickly remembered to their dismay and rather intense pain that Ayasegawa Yumichika, just like the previous third seat, actually enjoyed being given a physical outlet to his burdening feelings. He had not changed one bit, and he made sure that everyone knew that.
Ikkaku...
Those who knew him well, though, were aware that Yumichika was nothing if not a master at keeping appearances, and they consequently guessed that he was once again simply putting those skills into good practice. To them it was obvious that it was merely on the outside that nothing had changed; on the inside, everything had changed.
Ikkaku!
The bald warrior had finally done it: he had gone and left his faithful shadow behind, as everyone, beginning with Yumichika himself, had always known he eventually would.
When Yumichika had met him all those years ago, Ikkaku had already had it written all over his face, this desire to die, this will to fight again and again until he found the right adversary, the one who would allow him to lose his life without losing face. Yumichika had never held any illusion, he had never fooled himself into believing that Ikkaku would change for his sake, and every time Ikkaku had almost died, Yumichika had merely counted himself lucky that he had survived instead.
Now that it had finally happened for good, however, he thought he could scream from the pain.
Ikkaku! Where are you?!
Never again would he see that manic grin on Ikkaku's face as he entered a battle. Never again would he hear the challenge in Ikkaku's voice as he taunted an opponent, friend or foe, in a badly-disguised attempt to push them into attacking him with everything they had. Never again would the training grounds resonate with the angry yells of the frustrated third seat. Never again would fukutaichou run throughout the Division, shouting for "Pachinko Head" at the top of her voice...
When night came, and Yumichika went home all alone, he would wrap himself into one of the many colourful yukata and kimono that Ikkaku had bought him over the decades, he would sit on the gallery under the stars, and he would pour himself a cup of hot, strong tea - not sake, never sake, no matter how well he could hold it. And then, he would spend the entire evening trying to focus on some organisational problem to solve within the Division, or on how to improve the training drills, or even on how to convince the lieutenant to properly attend and report from her vice-captain meetings - anything that could occupy his mind and prevent him from remembering what, who, was cruelly missing from his life at the moment.
He had already lost count of how many times he had almost fallen asleep on the gallery - almost only, because there was no way he would allow such a blatant sign of distress from actually happening, even if it only meant dragging himself inside the front door and drifting away into a cold, shivering and uneasy slumber right there and then. He was spending more nights on the hard floor than in his bed lately, but this suited him just fine: the very thought of his - their - futon brought far too many new "never again"s to his mind...
Never again would he feel Ikkaku's large, strong hands crawling up his hips and stomach in a silent request, preferably just as Yumichika was about to fall asleep. Never again would he taste Ikkaku's demanding mouth or smell that furiously intoxicating scent of his. Never again would he run his hands on the warrior's bald scalp and smile in appreciation. And never, never again would he be pinned under Ikkaku's tall, muscled, heavy body as they made rough, passionate love in the middle of the night... Damn futon, sitting there all neatly rolled-up, looking perfectly innocent even as it beckoned and made promises it could never keep ever again!
"Never again": those words tore at his mind and heart, relentlessly, every hour of every day, as detail after detail of what used to be his and Ikkaku's life popped up in front of him and reminded him of what he had lost. Everything, everything carried Ikkaku's memory in one way or the other, from the people he met, to the papers he filled, the drills he led, the quarters he lived in, and even the way others called him. Every time he heard "Ayasegawa-sanseki", he felt like some carefully stitched scar was being ripped open anew deep inside him. He managed never to cry on the outside, but his soul had already spilt hundreds of those burning, searing, scorching tears of blood, one by one, slowly, day after night after day...
... Ikkaku...
To anyone who asked, or worse, was foolish enough to offer him their condolences, Yumichika made a point of haughtily and cheerfully explaining once more the way those things were handled in the Zaraki Squads. Ikkaku had been lucky enough to experience the very best kind of death anyone in the Eleventh Division could ever hope for: he had died in battle, giving his very best against an adversary who was genuinely stronger than he was. Yumichika had not been there, but when he had arrived to collect Ikkaku's broken body, the first thing he had noticed, before the blood, before the spilled guts, before the missing limbs and oddly shaped spine, had been the triumphant grin on the proud warrior's face. Ikkaku had died exactly as he had wanted to, and this was something to be celebrated, not mourned!
Life went on - it was supposed to go on. Yumichika was still alive, and he knew Ikkaku would have wanted him to enjoy this. He knew he should be moving on, he should be making the best of what he had, to honour Ikkaku's memory, and to be true to the ideals of the Division they had served together for so long. Just because he did not feel like he could ever be happy again, did not mean that he had to let it show. He would pretend, once more. He was a master at pretending after all, was he not? Nobody needed to know otherwise. And those who did suspect, well, he could just ignore them; sooner or later, they would leave him alone.
Alone.
All alone.
IKKAKU! Where are you!? Why did you leave me alone? How could you bring me here, how could you TRAP me here, and then leave me alone? COME BACK AND FIX THIS, YOU BASTARD!!
Ikkaku was not the first lover Yumichika had ever had, not by far, but he had unwittingly done something none of the previous ones had ever accomplished. The others, upon dying, had always left Yumichika more or less in the same situation they had found him in: alone in Rukongai - sometimes poorer, sometimes richer, but always alone with only his zanpakutou to keep him company, always aimless, and always in Rukongai. This time, however, Yumichika had friends and colleagues surrounding him, he had a job to keep him occupied and to force a rhythm onto his empty days, and he had a home in Seireitei. Ikkaku had actually taken him somewhere, and without meaning to, had ensured that he would have a direction to follow once he disappeared - but strangely enough, this only made everything harder on Yumichika.
Was Ikkaku really gone, if he still had such an influence on Yumichika's life? How could Yumichika properly get over him, when the very air he breathed seemed to smell of Ikkaku? How could he move on, when everything in his life had been molded by Ikkaku in some way? If he had been back all alone on some street of Rukongai, he would have known exactly what to do, he would have known what to expect, and even when to expect it. As things were now though, he was lost, utterly and perfectly lost. How would he ever manage to leave Ikkaku behind, if the very mention of his own name and rank was enough to yank him right back by his deceased lover's side? This had never happened before, with any of his previous partners, and Yumichika was beginning to fear that maybe, just maybe, he would never find an exit to this nightmare, and he would lose his mind before he managed to mend his heart...
** End of chapter one **
A/N:
- prompt table was stolen from the 50ficlets community on LiveJournal
- I'm in need of a language beta, to check on my grammar, vocabulary and so on. British English preferred. If anyone feels like volunteering, please let me know!