JTS: AN EFFING IKKACHIKA LOVE STORY SPECTACULAR

RAIN: ...Welcome to our collab!

Chapter 1: From the Sleeping to the Waking

I opened my eyes slowly, blinking a few times as I absently swayed where I stood. It was like waking from that sort of deep sleep where you have to take a few minutes to just sit there and contemplate your dreams, what shit you have to do later in the day, and just about anything and everything that could possibly pass through your mind. I spent a few moments like that, unsure of what I was doing or where I was, but too far away to bring myself to truly care.

But, as I came out of this lapse, I realized I was standing at the gates of a village. Sand blew around my feet, which wore odd sandals that I did not recognize. As I looked down, I noted the simple white robe that was draped over me. As I raised my hand to rub at an itch on my head, I paused and stared at the back of my fingers as I spread my hand in front of me. The fingers were long and thin and undeniably mine, but I did not recognize them. They were a stranger's hands. And this was a stranger's town, and the robe and shoes were clearly not mine either. I instinctively curled my hand into a fist, lashing out at the stone of the wall in front of me with all of the strength contained in this unknown body. I hissed under my breath as the skin on my knuckles split open and began to weep blood and my fingernails cut into my palm. I was real alright. This was no dream, but perhaps it was a nightmare.

Reaching up to my head with my good hand, I realized that I had perfectly smooth scalp. Odd, I thought, as I could not recall why I would be bald. A flash of panic followed this thought, as I wracked my brain. There was simply nothing whatsoever to be found about myself or my past or where I was. The panic turned to blind rage, as my head spun in confusion. What the hell was this? What kind of sick, fucked up joke? Instinctively, I turned back to the wall and gave it another blow, but this time left handed. I felt a smirk spread over my face as blood rushed to the surface of the torn skin. Perhaps it was instinctual, but even with my mind gone I knew I could—if nothing else—rely on this body and its physical strength. The satisfying sound of skin and bone against stone was proof enough that I was not any sort of invalid, and that I was at least capable of decent injury. There hadn't been any accident, now I was sure of it. I felt amazing actually, now that I had stopped to take notice. It was a little strange, but I could feel myself practically buzzing with strength and adrenaline and...something else I couldn't quite put my finger on. But who cared? Right now I felt alive and bursting with energy, and the thought almost made me want to laugh out loud. Here I was, in a situation that would break any sane person, and I was enjoying myself.

I straightened up and squared my shoulders, looking out at the town in front of me and the landscape behind me. I had no sense of that déjà vu you were supposed to get in this sort of situation, but that didn't bother me. I hesitated as I thought of what to do next. I could walk through the gates and try my luck with the people there. But the thought quickly repulsed me, and I nearly shuddered. People were annoyances, I realized suddenly. I knew somewhere deep inside me that I had never needed another person, and that I was best left alone. I was… dangerous. The word came to me suddenly, and I paused to think on that. Why in hell would I be dangerous? This nearly made me lose it too, because a messed up man in the middle of nowhere who couldn't remember his own name was only a danger to himself. Where did that come from, anyway? I was about to shake it off as a stupid superstition, when I stopped cold and a wave of red peppered with black flashed over my vision.

"Ikkaku,"

I heard. I was unable to see who had called out, but I instinctively reached out for them, struggling against the darkness that was threatening to take me under. The voice had been quiet and mournful, and just a bit desperate.

"Ikkaku," the voice called again as I stumbled where I stood. "Stop this! Madarame Ikkaku, if you ever cared about me, if you have ever felt anything at all for me, you will stop right now!"

The last word was nearly a scream, and the anguished sound drove me to my knees where I dry heaved into the sand. Gone was that feeling of superiority that I had minutes ago. I was horrified beyond belief, because I knew somewhere in my heart of hearts that this was my punishment. This barren land was my exile, and that voice was my greatest sin. And even worse, I knew the voice that called to me. I could feel the passion in it, even as they cried out in pain and fear. It was the sound of someone I loved, but that I had hurt beyond repair. I collapsed into the sand on my stomach, clenching my eyes shut so I wouldn't cry. How disgraceful was this position, how low could I sink? What was the dream and what was the nightmare? I didn't know anymore, and I gave up trying. I shut my eyes firmly, and let the blackness take me.

When I came to, I found myself being propped up slightly by a pair of gentle hands with something being trickled into my mouth. My eyes shot open, and I instinctively turned to the side and spit out the water unceremoniously. I turned back to face the person who held me, but my glare froze on my face and the angry words got stuck in my throat, which only resulted in an odd expression and a coughing fit. When it had subsided, I shook the stranger's grasp off—once again, unceremoniously—and had to stop myself from staring. He was beautiful and vaguely familiar, like a very distant relative or a friend of a friend. The man looking down at me had cropped raven hair that I had a strange desire to reach out and touch, and I immediately glared more harshly as the thought came to me. What was getting into me today?

He straightened up and offered a hand, a casual smirk spreading over his lips. "It's really a shame," the man said absently, his voice smooth and familiar in some way. "That someone like you, neither ugly nor beautiful, would have come to such an ordinary end like that. It is just so...cliché, wouldn't you agree?"

I stared at him dumbfounded, and refused his help. I got to my feet on my own and stood, realizing that I was several inches taller than him. Towering over the man made me feel better, like I was more in control.

"Please," I drawled roughly, the words coming out before I could stop them. "I would have been fine without you."

But he only looked amused, and reached for my hands to turn them over. The man looked at the scratches with an intense sort of fascination that both confused me and freaked me out at the same time. His touch made me shiver involuntarily, and I immediately berated myself for that reaction. It wasn't odd that I'd be attracted to him (I did have eyes, after all) but it was embarrassing to act like a little schoolgirl with a silly crush. From the way his lips quirked too, I could tell he had noticed and was trying not to laugh. I nearly growled as I snatched my hands away. "They're fine," I muttered petulantly.

"I'm sure they are," he responded, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. "You could say thank you, you know."

"And why would I do that?" I asked, still reeling from his touch. "Who are you, and what the hell are you doing here?"

"Why does it matter?" he countered, giving in anyway and laughing. "Ayasegawa Yumichika."

I hesitated before replying shortly with the name I had heard earlier, as it seemed to fit perfectly, like a pair of old boots that have been broken in after many wearings. "Madarame Ikkaku."

"A pleasure," came the wry reply, and I froze. My eyes widened, but despite this I could only give him a hard stare. Because at that moment, I had realized that he was the owner of the voice I had heard earlier. What on earth was going on?