Ikkaku's first mission with Squad 11 wasn't fun to say the least. He hadn't had a chance to fight Zaraki yet, and Yumichika was acting up. He had found several coloured feathers and was continuously pestering him for an opinion. He had not let up even after they had been walking towards their destination for three days.

"I just want to know which ones would suit me better. Is it that hard to choose?" Yumichika pines, waving the multicoloured feathers in Ikkaku's face.

"Fine!" Ikkaku snarled. "The red and yellow!"

Yumichika's face instantly lit up. "Thank you Ikkaku!" he said, skipping ahead of him. After removing the colours he had chosen, the man tossed the others away.

Looking at him from behind, Ikkaku began to rethink his choice. The purple feathers that he had stepped over would probably match his eyes and the tinge in his long black hair. But he knew better than to say anything. If he changed his mind, Yumichika would whine and sulk about it.

He laughed to himself as the man in front of him enthusiastically waved the feathers in the air while telling the other Soul Reapers about them. The man had bizarre views of aesthetics and refused to look on what he deemed 'ugly' things. That frequently repeated word made him wonder why they were friends. Their conflicting personalities and belief clashed, but there was never conflict.

"What do you think?" Yumichika's face suddenly appeared in front of his own, startling him.

"What do you mean?" he growled, pushing him away.

"Yumichika crossed his arms and pouted. "The feathers of course."

It took Ikkaku a few moments to notice that the feathers were now adorned around his right eye. The red ones were on his eyebrows and the yellow on the edge of his eyelashes. To be honest, Ikkaku didn't care in the slightest. But id he said nothing then Yumichika would keep asking him about it until he went mad. So he considered a moment before answering.

"They look...nice, I suppose," he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck and not looking at his friend.

"Really? Do you really think so? Oh I'm so happy!" he squealed, the dark mood from earlier lifting instantly.

"Your mood swings are worse than a woman's," Ikkaku muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Yumichika snapped, frowning.

"Exactly."

Yumichika opened his mouth to continue their argument but then in the distance they heard a blood curdling howl – a Hollow.

The spat was over in a moment as they and the other Soul Reapers ran towards the continued howling. Yumichika raised his head and sniffed he air.

"There are at least seven large Hollows ahead," he said, loud enough for all of them to hear. "If they aren't dealt with soon, undoubtedly they will attract a Menos."

"Right," Ikkaku said, drawing his sword, a smile widening on his face. "Well then, I guess we'd better hurry up and kill them."

Yumichika flashed him an equally gleeful grin. "I must agree with you on that."

The two of them fell into silence and moments later they burst into a clearing and saw the Hollows. There were already several other Soul Reapers attacking them, but they were being blocked by rebel Soul Reapers.

Without hesitation, Ikkaku leapt into the throng, slamming his sheath into the face of one of the rebels. Yumichika dived after him, slashing at a second rebel. It wasn't long before the two lost sight of each other as the battle became more heated.

Laughing madly, Ikkaku slashed his way through the battle, slaying any and all enemies that crossed his path. Blood splashed his face as he sliced though a Hollow's mask. He spun, searching for his next opponent, when he heard a pained scream. His face fell as he recognised the voice.

"Yumichika!" he yelled, sprinting towards where the scream had come from.

In the distance, through the trees, he saw him. Yumichika was on his knees, his left arm dangling awkwardly by his side. His right arm was a bloody mess. A Soul Reaper was standing above him. The man was huge.

He was holding Yumichika's sword above his head, the other hand had lashed out and grabbed Yumichika's long hair. He pulled upwards, dragging Yumichika off the ground. The dark haired man screamed again, but unable to use his arms, he was completely helpless.

"Now you die!" the rebel yelled, swinging the sword down.

Ikkaku slammed the hilt of his sword into the end of his sheath. "Extend, Hozukimaru!" he yelled, and the sword changed instantly into the three piece staff he was accustomed to fighting with.

Roaring, he swung the blade down, slicing through Yumichika's hair. His friend fell backwards, and his attacker only managed to scratch across his chest. The wound was deep, but not fatal.

The attacker stumbled back and Ikkaku swung Hozukimaru over his head before driving the blade into the man's chest. He twisted before pulling his weapon out of the man's body and holding it ready.

The rebel stumbled backward before dropping Yumichika's sword and his severed hair. He stayed on his feet for a few seconds before pitching backwards and hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

Sneering Ikkaku lowered his weapon and turned to his friend. Yumichika was sitting up, breathing heavily. His chest had been torn up by his four bladed sword, and his face was contorted in pain.

Ikkaku offered him a hand, but was laughed off. "I'm not helpless you know," he said, pushing himself to his feet with his right, bloodied arm. Even though he could see his friend's shoulder shaking, Ikkaku didn't offer help again.

Once on his feet, Yumichika walked over to where his sword had fallen. As he stooped to pick it up, he looked at his severed hair. Blood dripped from his chest and ran down to his hand from his arm.

As he lifted his sword from the ground it reverted back to its original form and he sheathed it. The usually smooth motion was shaky and awkward due to his injuries.

"Did you really need to cut my hair Ikkaku?" he questioned haughtily, feeling his now tattered hairline. His left arm still hung at his sided. It must have been broken.

"It was either your hair or your head," Ikkaku said grumpily, reverting his own weapon back to its original form.

"Fine," Yumichika sighed. "Let's just go home.'

He started to walk back the way they had come from, but hadn't gone ten feet before he swayed and Ikkaku had to rush forward to catch him.

"Yeah. And you're going straight to Squad 4," Ikkau growled.

When Ikkaku went to visit Yumichika at the Squad 4 barracks, he was surprised to find the man sitting up in his bed, a mirror in front of his, a pair of scissors in his hand. A towel was wrapped around his shoulders; a second one was draped across his lap, catching his hair as he carefully cut it into a new style.

He spotted his partner before he could knock and waved him inside. Ikkau felt a pang in his chest when he saw bandages wrapped along his right arm. Feeling oddly self-conscious, he stepped into the room.

"Honestly," Yumichika said, clipping at his hair. "You didn't leave me much to work with."

There was a haughty, disapproving tone in his voice, but a mischievous smile was playing about his lips.

"Well I was going to suggest that you cut your hair soon anyway," Ikkaku replied stubbornly. "It's not right for a man to have hair linger than a woman's."

"You only say that because you are bald," his friend shot back.

Ikkaku's eyebrow twitched. "What was that?" he growled, leaning forward.

"Oh, nothing," Yumichika said sweetly. "Pass me that comb would you?" he asked, pointing at the side table.

Not replying, he grabbed the comb and tossed it into his lap. Yumichika picked it up and began delicately running it through his hair. Ikkaku sighed and walked over to the window. It was a fine day, too fine to be cooped up indoors in a hospital bed.

"What do you think?" Ikkaku turned as his friend pulled the towel off his shoulders.

His hair was now on an angle that followed his jaw line and hung a few inches lower. It didn't have the same impact as his long, purple-black hair, but he would easily pull it off. However, Ikkaku's attention was drawn instead to his chest.

The white bandages wrapped tightly around the man's body. When Yumichika realised that he wasn't paying attention to his new haircut, he sighed and smacked his forehead.

"If you're feeling guilty, don't," he said firmly. "What happened was my own fault."

"Who said I felt guilty?" Ikkaku snapped. "I was just wondering about how you would cover these ugly scars," he said, putting enough emphasis on the word to make Yumichika cringe.

"I have a solution and besides," he waved his left arm around. "This was broken two days ago. The scars will vanish in no time."

"Right."

Yumichika was released the next day. The first thing he did was rush back to his room and lock himself inside. Ikkau pounded on the door, yelling through the wood.

"Yumichika! Let me in! This is my room too you know!" he roared, half-wishing the man was still in hospital.

"Give me a minute, i'm just looking for – ah! Here it is!" Yumichika replied. A few moments later, there was a click and the door swung open.

Ikkaku stepped inside and saw clothes strewn over the previously neat and clean floor. A vein popped in his forehead.

"Well," Yumichika tapped him on the shoulder. "What do you think?"

Ikkaku looked over his shoulder. His friend had and orange collar over his shihakshou, that was long enough to hide the bandages on his chest. There was a matching sleeve on his right arm that covered form his wrist to his elbow. There were black stripes in the fabric, and a matching cord that attached the two accessories.

Astounded, he looked at Yumichika's face. He had the feathers on again.

"Well?" Yumichika repeated.

"I think it's..." Ikkaku considered, looking at Yumichika's glowing smile. "Its whatever."

His friend's face fell. "You're not going to tell me are you?"

Ikkaku smiled wickedly. "No."