I would like to add a couple statements before you begin, dear reader. This story starts off fairly gently but future chapters (and there are over 25 of them) contain some very rough scenes. There is detailed violence and there is seduction (without being sexually graphic). In addition, you will see that I use the term "kimi" actually as a term of endearment - which I know is not correct, but I liked the sound of it and lifted it from the Zanpakuto rebellion arc, where Ruri'iro Kujaku refers to Yumichika as "Kimi-san". Please forgive any misuse of the few Japanese terms I use . . . and enjoy!
Chapter 1 The Meeting at the Well
"It's lost now, all that age before I knew you.
Is it that forever is hard to find?
You made me recognize what I'd been leaving far behind.
Is it closing in on you, like it was on me?"
Saved by the Music
John Lodge
Damn, it was hot.
And dull.
And he was bored out of his mind. Two weeks and not a single taker. Two weeks and not a single man bold or foolish enough to match swords with him. His frown deepened into a scowl. He'd passed through at least a dozen villages in those two weeks and covered a lot of ground in between. How was it possible that he'd not encountered even one soul willing to fight him?
Such idleness was not good for Ikkaku. It gave him too much time to think, too much time to notice his own awkwardness, his sense of not belonging. No matter where he went, it seemed that he just did not fit in. He wasn't surprised, though. He hadn't belonged in the world of the living, and he didn't belong in the Soul Society now. And he relished being an outcast. He relished his anger; he craved physical contests. He didn't know why the world felt so dull unless he was fighting, or why he viewed everyone else in terms of their potential as an adversary. The one thing he did know was that these traits made him unattractive and unwelcome to everyone he met. But he wasn't going to change. Why should he? What was so important about fitting in, about being wanted? If no one wanted him around, that suited him just fine. Quite frankly, he didn't particularly care for anyone else's company either – sometimes even his own.
He was coming to a village at the edge of a marshy area bordering what looked like a fair-sized inland sea. Skeletal trees hung with gray moss reached up from the murky water near the marsh's ambiguous shoreline. Here and there, interspersed among the trees, were structures like small sheds built upon stilts, rising up a meter or two above the water's surface. As Ikkaku drew nearer, the rank smell of marsh gas and decay drifted up to meet him, but the grimace he made was swallowed by the scowl already in place. He followed a well-worn path away from the marsh onto more solid ground, seeing not more than a hundred meters ahead of him, a village. He judged at least 1,000 inhabitants. Surely, he would find someone here.
He passed through the village streets, finding them empty; but this was expected. The heat was so stifling that it had driven everyone indoors. No one wanted to be out in such weather – including Ikkaku. Still, he was disappointed that his desire to match with someone would have to wait. He continued on clear through the village, finding on the far side, a grove of plum trees that offered some shade. He decided to rest here, and when evening fell and the villagers were more likely to come out, he would see what excitement could be found.
He settled against the trunk of the one of the trees and took a moment to assess his various wounds, accumulated over the past month or so. Most of them were well-healed or on their way to healing. There was a puncture wound in his left shoulder that was giving him some trouble. It had been made by a dull blade in his last battle, a four-against-one skirmish two weeks ago, and although it had not festered, it was not closing up either. And then there was a large abrasion that covered his left cheek and most of his jaw – the result of skidding across the ground in the same fight. Not to mention the fact that he was starving – an uncommon occurrence among the residents of Soul Society, most of whom never experienced hunger. Ikkaku, on the other hand, was insatiable, his appetite ravenous. And he hadn't eaten in . . . he'd lost count of how many days. He was starting to feel the effects of the deprivation, so the chance to get some rest was appealing.
He had just closed his eyes when the sound of someone humming met his ears. It was a soothing tune and a smooth, beautiful voice; but at the moment, when Ikkaku wanted nothing but silence, it was an irritant. Opening his eyes, he looked towards the sound of the humming to see a well just beyond the grove and one lone woman drawing water. The sight made him realize how thirsty he was. Irritant forgotten, he got to his feet and approached the woman. He sat on a stone bench near the well.
"Give me some of that water," he said flatly.
The woman turned and looked at him without speaking. But Ikkaku didn't need to hear the voice to know that he was looking at a man. The face was definitely masculine framed by hair the color of coal, worn in one of the most bizarre styles Ikkaku had ever seen, at least three different lengths in front, culminating in a long single pony-tail down the back, tied with a rose-colored ribbon. The man's eyes were a stunning violet, the sun making them glitter and twinkle. But what was truly peculiar was that he was wearing a woman's flower-patterned kimono, and he was doing woman's work – drawing water.
The man regarded Ikkaku for a few seconds before dipping a copper cup into one of the buckets and handing it to him.
Ikkaku drained the contents in one swallow and held the cup back out. "Some more."
The man slowly took the cup, eyeing Ikkaku with curiosity. He filled the cup again and gave it to him.
"So, what are you supposed to be?" Ikkaku asked derisively.
"Your manners are ugly," the man said placidly.
The response was not what Ikkaku had expected. "My manners?" he scoffed. "I got what I wanted, didn't I? Ugly manners or not."
The man looked at Ikkaku with appraising eyes. "You're not from here," he remarked in a lyrically condescending voice. "I don't recognize you."
Ikkaku downed the water again. "I'm here now. That's all that matters. Get me some more water."
"The bucket's right there. Help yourself," came the reply.
"Fine," Ikkaku shrugged, then said dismissively, "I'll help myself, and you can take a walk until I'm done drinking."
"Take a walk?"
"I don't want to look at you," Ikkaku sneered. "And I don't want you talking to me."
The man folded his arms across his chest. "And the reason for that is?"
Ikkaku grinned. "You're kind of a freak, aren't you?"
The man gave a pitying smile. "You should talk. A brute like you can't appreciate beauty even when it's right in front of you."
"Men aren't supposed to be beautiful," Ikkaku grunted.
"Everything should be beautiful," came the reply. "I can't stand ugliness, whether it be a person's actions, their appearance . . . or their manners."
"Huh, then you're in for a lot of disappointments. By the way, your own manners aren't very beautiful right now," Ikkaku shot back.
"How would you know? You don't even know what beauty is, or you'd be admiring me at this very moment."
Ikkaku dipped the cup into the water and drank. "You have some ego."
"The beautiful can afford to be egotistical," the man replied, sounding completely unperturbed. "You, on the other hand . . . well, it's too bad you don't take better care of yourself. You could be mildly attractive if you did."
That was enough. Ikkaku threw the cup aside and got to his feet, grabbing the folds of the man's kimono and lifting him onto his toes. "Are you trying to piss me off?"
"I think you were already pissed off when you came here," the man stated. "I'm just offering to help you. I could clean those wounds and mend that—that thing you're wearing."
Ikkaku studied the man's expression. There was no fear in his face. No fear at all. Rather, a sort of languid, unworried curiosity rested there, and Ikkaku was intrigued by it. Usually, the faces of those men he'd encountered in his wanderings had looked back at him with fear, loathing or anger – or a combination of all three. But not so this time.
"You're not even carrying a sword. You're not worth fighting," Ikkaku spat out, releasing the man and purposefully trying to provoke a reaction.
But the reaction was not the hostile one Ikkaku had hoped for. Instead, the man smoothed over the crumpled kimono in a delicate fashion. "If you don't want my help, that's fine." He yoked the two buckets, took them on his shoulders and began walking back towards the village.
Ikkaku stood unmoving for a moment, watching the man walk away. It was clear he wasn't going to be able to lure him into a fight. And Ikkaku wasn't even sure that such a contest would be satisfying. After all, he'd meant it when he said the man wasn't worth fighting. Ikkaku doubted that the man had ever even touched a sword.
But there were other considerations. After all, Ikkaku could use someone to take a look at his injuries. And his kosode did need some repairs. And perhaps . . .
"Do you have food?" he called out.
The man stopped and turned for a moment, looking like a dairy maid with the buckets swinging at his sides. "Yes, I do."
Ikkaku walked towards him. "Then I'll let you help me. But only if a meal is included in the deal."
Ikkaku did not see the smile that accompanied the man's quiet chuckle. It was the smile of someone who'd been assured all along of prevailing.
The village streets were still empty as they passed through, turning off onto a narrow dusty side road that eventually got lost in a maze of smaller alleyways.
Neither of them spoke for the first several minutes, then at last, Ikkaku asked, "What were you doing drawing water in the middle of the day? In this heat?"
"I needed it," the man replied carelessly.
"You know it's not normal to draw water in the middle of the day," Ikkaku pressed.
"Maybe it's not the usual, but I needed it and I didn't want to wait. Besides, it's less crowded this way," the man explained. "And I see that it hasn't occurred to you to offer to help me carry the buckets."
Ikkaku detected a hint of irritation in his voice, but he knew it had nothing to do with his failure to offer his assistance with the buckets. The man was acting as if the matter of when he drew water made no big difference, but Ikkaku knew better – and he was certain the man knew better as well. From years of traveling through village after village, Ikkaku had learned that certain things were the same in each place. Early morning and the evening were the two times for drawing water. The village women used the chore as a basis for social gathering. Around the well, in the cool of the rising or setting sun, they could gossip, barter, or do whatever women did – all as part of the trip to the well. The men would also gather, usually only in the evenings, and at a different location, for their own social interaction.
The fact of a man drawing water and drawing it in the heat of the day could only mean the man was an outcast, trying to avoid the others. This most certainly had to be the case, for while it was true that the man was as beautiful as he believed himself to be – more beautiful, in fact, than most women and certainly more beautiful than any man – he was peculiar and, if Ikkaku were any judge, arrogant about his peculiarity.
"I didn't think you needed any help," Ikkaku replied. "You seem to be doing fine on your own." He paused and a smile curled one corner of his mouth. "Besides, you need to carry both of them in order to stay balanced."
The man's only response was a smirk.
They continued walking and came at length to a small traditional machiya nestled between two larger run-down ones. From the outside, its appearance was modest, but upon entering, Ikkaku was stunned. Passing through a high gated bamboo fence, and then through a small, beautifully adorned garden, they came to the raised structure.
Inside, it was a single room, perfectly square, with a cooking area in the near right corner, a futon of luxurious proportions in the far right, and against the opposite wall what looked like a work area with neat stacks of fabrics, spools of thread, and all manner of tailoring instruments. The entire room was beautifully decorated in blues and emeralds, accented with peacock feathers. The atmosphere was warm and inviting.
"This is your place?" Ikkaku asked.
"Yes," the man replied, setting the water down in the cooking area.
Ikkaku decided that he'd come into a bit of good luck. "You live here alone?"
A nod.
"It's nice. You must do well," Ikkaku commented, strolling about for a better look, stopping at the wall of fabric. "You, uh . . . you make clothes?"
"Not just clothes. All kinds of linens," the man replied. "Some repairs. A lot of embroidery."
Ikkaku held up the item on top of one of the stacks. It was an obi, embroidered with an intricate pattern reminiscent of the styling found in northern Rukongai finery, but with enough originality to make it something unique. "You did this? It's good work."
"It's excellent work," came the reply. "My own design. It's for the village elder's wife." He began pouring the buckets into a large ceramic jar.
"Then she should be happy with it," Ikkaku commented, tossing it back on the pile.
"Mmm. Speaking of happy . . . I'd be happy if you would take off that thing you're wearing. It's disgusting and it smells. You smell. There's a basin out back and hot water on the heater. Go clean yourself up and put this on." He left his water buckets long enough to pull a blue kimono off another stack.
Ikkaku was about to protest, but his host had already anticipated this.
"I'll have a meal ready when you come back in."
That was all Ikkaku needed to hear. He took the kimono, and as he headed for the wash porch, he turned back for a moment. "I guess, if I'm going to stay here, I should introduce myself. Ikkaku Madarame."
"And now, I suppose you want to know my name," the man grinned. His voice took on its musical tone. "Yumichika Ayasegawa."
Yumichika.
Ayasegawa.
It was a strange name. But at this point, Ikkaku had decided that everything about his host was strange, the name least of all.
In the darkness, he could hear the evenness of Yumichika's breathing on the opposite side of the room; and for the first time in a long while, his thoughts were of something other than fighting, his emotions were something other than anger. He was consumed with wonder over his new acquaintance.
It wasn't enough that Yumichika had had no fear of inviting a complete stranger into his home, but he'd done everything imaginable to make his guest comfortable.
For starters, there had been the pristine washing facilities. Directly behind the house was a partly enclosed bathing porch unlike anything Ikkaku had ever seen. The tile was white with a violet design, the porch frame hung with white sheers, highlighted with gold weave. A magnificent full length mirror stood in one corner, opposite a smaller half-length mirror on the wall. There was a wall basin, a floor basin and a magnificent sunken bathtub in the floor. It was definitely the wash room of someone who loved to pamper and look at himself . . . it suited his host very well.
But that was only the beginning. After washing, there had followed the meal Yumichika had promised. It had been simple fare, but amazingly delicious. Yumichika was an outstanding cook. Not only that, but like Ikkaku, Yumichika had an appetite. In fact, such an appetite that Ikkaku wondered how Yumichika could be so slight when he ate so much.
From there, Ikkaku had yielded to Yumichika's ministrations in cleaning and binding his wounds, treating them with a home-made concoction from a jar he kept over the hearth. Afterwards, Ikkaku was exhausted, prompting Yumichika to turn over his own bed. It had still been light out when Ikkaku had sunk into the spectacular softness. He'd awoken in the dark at one point to see, through blurry eyes, the image of his host working by candlelight over some piece of cloth or other. He'd fallen off again, and now upon waking, the candles had been doused and all was silent except for the sound of Yumichika's breathing.
In an unexpected way, it was comforting. In fact, everything about Yumichika had been comforting. He'd provided everything and asked for nothing. Ikkaku had been waiting the entire afternoon for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. Even Ikkaku's defiant, derisive demeanor had not been able to shake Yumichika's sense of hospitality.
Maybe, just maybe Ikkaku could stay here a few days. He never stayed in one place very long. He tended to wear out his welcome rather quickly after picking fights with the locals. Maybe here he would find a few diversions. Tomorrow, he would go into the village to see what was about.
Yumichika was up before dawn. As always.
It wasn't that he needed to be up so early; only that it was ingrained in him somehow. He could not bear lying in bed after waking up – and he had a built-in alarm clock that had roused him just before sunrise for as long as he could remember. He always made use of the time, and this morning was no exception. He sifted through the stacks of material until he came to a sturdy gray weave. It would be perfect to replace the hideous and hideously worn garment his guest had been wearing yesterday. If he worked quickly, he could have it ready before Ikkaku woke up. He didn't need to take measurements, nor did he need the old outfit as a guide. Yumichika had a good eye – not just for beauty, but for size and dimension.
He worked quietly, peering over occasionally to his own bed where Ikkaku lay still sleeping – and rather noisily, at that. But that told Yumichika it was a deep sleep, probably a contented sleep; and that gave him a sense of satisfaction, for he had the idea that Ikkaku did not experience much peace. Indeed, the anger had been palpable in him from the first moment of their meeting. Ikkaku had been searching for a fight and found none. He'd accepted Yumichika's offer of help, but Yumichika was not fooled into thinking the search was over. He wasn't even sure that he was off the list of possible contenders.
But that didn't worry him. He knew how to take care of himself, how to diffuse tense or dangerous situations. He had certain talents in which he had great confidence, and so Ikkaku's belligerence had not dissuaded him.
Quite the opposite, in fact. What had piqued his interest was the anger. Where did it come from? What could be the cause? It had felt, to Yumichika, like a general hatred for everyone and everything with no apparent basis. There had been something risky about welcoming such anger into his home; but curiosity had overpowered prudence, and so Yumichika did not regret his decision to invite Ikkaku for a stay. Not to mention that Yumichika truly could not bear the sight of ugliness, and Ikkaku had been just that upon their encounter. Yumichika had decided immediately to attempt an improvement.
"Well," he thought, holding up the kosode to examine his work, "If I can't improve his manners, I can improve his appearance." He smiled his satisfaction with his work, set the kosode aside, and began the task of preparing breakfast.
It was not long before the smell of grilled fish lured Ikkaku out of his slumber. Rolling over, he asked, "What are you making?"
"It's kibbeling," Yumichika replied. "Do you like that?"
Ikkaku made a sound that could have meant any number of things. "What time is it?" he groaned.
"Seven o'clock."
"Seven o'clock? Why are you making breakfast so early! Who gets up at seven o'clock?" Ikkaku shot upright and his eyes fell on Yumichika, already fully dressed. "You're—how long have you been up?"
"Since four-thirty," Yumichika replied diffidently. "Now, will you please lower your voice before you wake up the entire neighborhood?"
Ikkaku glowered at him. "I'm going back to bed."
"Breakfast will still be here when you get up," Yumichika replied.
Ikkaku threw himself back down and pulled the covers over his head. But it was too late. After a few seconds, he sat back up. "Damn you. Now I can't sleep."
Yumichika grinned pleasantly. "Well then, since you're up, come have some breakfast."
Ikkaku rolled out of bed with a dramatic flourish. "I've never heard of anyone getting up so early. This is ridiculous. My stomach's not even awake yet. I can't eat anything right now."
"You can go back to bed—"
"I told you, now that you've woken me up, I can't get back to sleep!" Ikkaku stood up and headed for the wash porch. "Make sure you have some tea ready."
Yumichika shook his head with a grin as Ikkaku disappeared out the door. "So, fighting isn't your only hobby. You like to complain, too."
Still, he made sure he had the tea ready and waiting when Ikkaku returned to the table. He placed the kibbeling in the center, along with some rice and nori, and then he sat down and began to serve.
"I can serve myself," Ikkaku stated. "Men don't serve men. And you're not a woman." He paused and looked at Yumichika's posture. "Although you sit like one."
Unlike Ikkaku, who sat cross-legged, Yumichika sat with his legs folded beneath him, leaning back on his heels. And although it was a common posture for men and women, Yumichika lent to it a delicate aspect that could be classified as dainty.
Yumichika poured the tea. "And you sit like you just stumbled out of a sake bar."
Ikkaku liked the sound of that. "You got any sake?"
"Not for breakfast," Yumichika replied. He continued serving and changed the subject. "You slept well?"
"Until a few minutes ago," Ikkaku replied, taking a sip of the tea and raising an eyebrow at how good it was. "But that bed is too soft."
Yumichika ignored the barb. "You seemed to need a good night's sleep."
Ikkaku shrugged and bit into the kibbeling.
"So, what brought you here?" Yumichika asked, trying to elicit something from Ikkaku's flippancy.
"You did," Ikkaku quipped, taking another bite.
"I mean, to this village."
"What's the name of this place, anyway?" Ikkaku asked.
Yumichika sighed. "Mito Village."
"Hm," Ikkaku finished his fish and reached across the table to take another serving. "So, is it as dull as it seems?"
"It may seem dull to you," Yumichika replied, wincing at his guest's table manners. "I like it. But you haven't answered my question. Why are you here?"
"It was just another village in my wanderings," Ikkaku said.
"Your wanderings?"
"Yeah." Ikkaku pushed his cup across the table, prompting Yumichika to pour him more tea, conveniently forgetting his earlier opposition to being served by a man. "I don't like staying in one place for very long."
"So, where is your home?" Yumichika asked, handing the full cup back over to him.
The question rankled Ikkaku. "Why do you want to know? You ask a lot of questions. What difference does it make where my home is? You want to know? I don't have a home. I haven't had a home since I came to Soul Society." He paused, then added petulantly, "I don't want to be tied down."
"I see," Yumichika said quietly, then trying to quell an obvious surge in Ikkaku's anger, he took an innocuous tack. "There are a lot of souls that enjoy wandering. Soul Society has a lot of beautiful things to see."
Ikkaku scowled. "And a lot of ugly ones, too."
"Well, at least you've got a beautiful one right now," Yumichika crooned good-naturedly.
Ikkaku felt the tug of a smile despite himself.
Yumichika noticed it, too; and he knew the tense moment had passed. He also knew that if he wanted to learn more about this stranger, he would need patience.
When they had finished breakfast, Yumichika gathered up the dishes.
Ikkaku stood up and stretched. "Where are my clothes?"
Yumichika's face lit up like a lantern and he went over to his work area. He held up the kosode he had made that morning. "I made this for you."
Ikkaku stepped forward, looked at it, took it in his hands and examined it. "It's too long," he objected.
"It's not too long," Yumichika replied. "It's only longer than your old one, and that one was too short. It was almost obscene."
"It's too stiff. I can't fight in this," Ikkaku continued his protest.
"Then you're not much of a fighter," Yumichika prodded. "It allows for movement, it—"
"I like my own clothes better. Where are they?" Ikkaku demanded, tossing the kosode aside.
Yumichika simpered. "Your old clothes were disgusting, and you were disgusting in them, so I burned them." A mock sheepishness crossed his features as he picked up the kosode and held it out again.
"You—burned them?"
"Yes." He stretched his arm out further, offering the kosode with greater vigor. The next thing he knew, Ikkaku had knocked his arm aside, grabbed him with both hands, and driven him backwards until he came up against the wall, knocking over all manner of sewing implements.
"What the hell do you mean, you burned them?" Ikkaku raged.
Yumichika was calm. "I took them out back this morning and burned them in the water heater. They don't exist anymore."
"You had no right to do that! Those were my clothes!"
Yumichika sighed. "This is the second time you've grabbed me like this. If you're going to beat me up, just get on with it."
Ikkaku's eye twitched. He wanted so badly to beat the daylights out of someone. And Yumichika certainly gave him reason: he was arrogant and bossy and just plain weird. He deserved a beating. And here was the chance.
So, why couldn't Ikkaku bring himself to carry through on his threat? He could posture with Yumichika, but he could not do what came so naturally to him with everyone else: he couldn't be violent towards him.
And so, faced with Yumichika's taunt, he let loose a great groan of exasperation and released him. "Why are you so damn frustrating?" he charged.
Yumichika smiled. "I frustrate you? You don't know what frustration is."
"Are you implying that I'm frustrating?" Ikkaku demanded.
"And rude and impolite and noisy when you sleep and sloppy when you eat—"
Now, Ikkaku could not suppress a wicked grin. "Drives you crazy, eh? Well, it's exactly how I want to be."
"I believe you."
"And nothing's going to change me," Ikkaku went on defiantly.
"If that's the way you like it," Yumichika shrugged. He reached over and retrieved the kosode. "But it would be nice if you wouldn't grab me anymore. You're going to ruin my clothes. And speaking of clothes . . . will you at least wear this? I put a lot effort into it."
"How much effort could you have put in? We only met yesterday." Ikkaku took the garment. "You were probably already making it for someone else"
"That's not true," Yumichika protested. "I made it this morning before you woke up."
"This morning? You're trying to tell me you made this and breakfast before I got up?" Ikkaku asked in a skeptical voice.
"Yes," came the direct answer.
Ikkaku knew somehow that he was hearing the truth. "Then you're pretty handy to have around." He paused. "Even if you can't handle a sword."
Yumichika folded his arms across his chest. "Why do you say I can't handle a sword?"
"Well, you don't seem like the sword-handling type," Ikkaku replied. "And I don't see one anywhere."
"Hmph!" Yumichika made an odd, flouncing movement as he turned away. "I'm not aware that there's a particular type that wields swords. And besides, I don't fit neatly into any category except 'beautiful'."
Ikkaku grinned. Clearly, he had hit a nerve. "Wow, did I ruffle some feathers?"
"Just go get dressed," Yumichika said in a clipped voice.
But Ikkaku was having fun. "No, no, no. All right, so am I wrong? Can you handle a sword?"
"Why do you care?"
Ikkaku cocked his head with mock carelessness. "Oh, just trying to figure out if you're worth fighting."
"Do you plan on fighting me?" Yumichika asked. "Is that why you took me up on my invitation? I don't see why you want to fight anyone in the first place." He turned away to resume the dishes, but Ikkaku took hold of his sleeve.
"Don't try to change the subject. Just answer my question. Do you know how to use a sword?"
Yumichika gave a dramatic sigh. "No. There, are you satisfied? I'm not worth fighting after all, so I don't expect you to manhandle me again."
Ikkaku burst out laughing. "I knew it! I knew it! What kind of man doesn't know how to handle a sword?"
"One who's about to kick you out of his house," Yumichika replied, sounding offended.
"Oh, come on, Ayesegawa-san. It's just a little fun, that's all, "Ikkaku said lightly.
But Yumichika was still smarting. "You know, there are other ways to defeat an enemy besides fighting him."
"Sure, but who wants the boredom of starving an enemy out by siege?" Ikkaku said, sounding as if the very idea had left a bad taste in his mouth.
"I wasn't talking about a siege," Yumichika replied, his back still to Ikkaku as he plunged the dishes into the water. "There are other ways."
"What other ways? Or what other ways that are as exciting as battle?" Ikkaku demanded.
Yumichika set his shoulders and turned to face him. "Ways you would never appreciate."
His violet eyes were as piercing as his voice was penetrating, and for a moment, Ikkaku could not speak. His thoughts were jumbled, and he could do nothing but stare back into Yumichika's eyes. Then the moment passed, and he recollected himself.
Before him, Yumichika stood with a smug expression. "You see?"
Ikkaku shook his head. "See what?"
"You were completely distracted for a few seconds. If I'd wanted to, I could have made it last longer," Yumichika replied.
"What are you talking about? I wasn't distracted," Ikkaku protested. "What, do you think you can hypnotize people by looking at them?"
"Something like that."
"That's ridiculous—"
"It's my beauty. It mesmerizes people," Yumichika said in such a matter-of-fact voice that there was no doubting his sincerity.
Ikkaku laughed, but it was not a genuine laugh. There had been truth in Yumichika's words, and it was disturbing. Still, Ikkaku was not going to admit it. "Men don't find other men beautiful or mesmerizing, although I suppose you're not bad to look at, as far as that goes," he said with carefully fabricated nonchalance.
"There's that jealousy again," Yumichika sighed. "It's always the same."
"I am not jealous of you," Ikkaku protested. "In fact, I pity you, cause you don't know how to fight. And that's what we were talking about, so don't try to change the subject again."
Yumichika resumed cleaning the dishes without saying a word.
"So, do you want me to teach you how to fight?" Ikkaku asked.
"No." Yumichika's voice was soft, and Ikkaku could tell that he had definitely upset his host, still he was not going to let that stop him.
"Why not? You should be able to defend yourself—"
"Fighting is ugly—"
"It doesn't have to be," Ikkaku cut him off, then he was struck with an idea. "You could take any activity and make it beautiful."
"Don't patronize me," Yumichika snapped. "I'm not stupid. I don't want to learn how to fight. Now, stop pestering me. I have to clean these and then go the morning market."
Ikkaku was surprised. "The morning market?" He had not expected Yumichika would venture out during prime time.
"Yes, and I'm already behind schedule, so either help me or leave me alone."
Ikkaku chose the latter. He changed into the kosode Yumichika had made for him and when he came back in from the porch, it was to find Yumichika standing at the door, a basket on his arm.
"Will you still be here when I get back?" Yumichika asked.
"Better than that. I'm coming with you," Ikkaku replied.
Yumichika looked surprised for a moment. "I meant, will you be staying here again tonight?"
"Sure, why not?" Ikkaku shrugged. "You've got a nice place. And you can cook."
Yumichika rolled his eyes. "I'll choose to take that as a compliment instead of a matter of utility."
Ikkaku could not resist the urge to poke fun at him. "But you are useful."
Yumichika did not miss a beat. "It remains to be seen if the same can be said for you. But please do me a favor. Don't pick any fights while we're at the market. I have to live with these people, and I prefer to stay on good terms."
"I'm not making any promises," Ikkaku grinned. "Let's go."
The streets were just beginning to come alive as they headed for the market place.
By the time they reached the village square, where the market was set up, Ikkaku had come to the conclusion that his initial impression of Yumichika's status in the village had been far removed from the truth. Yumichika was not an outcast at all. This became increasingly evident, the more people they encountered. Certainly, there were curious looks, but more than that, there were friendly greetings; and Ikkaku was certain that the curious looks were due to his presence. Yumichika seemed to be well-liked and on the good terms he deemed so important.
Yumichika's first stop was a vegetable stand where he was met by the vendor – an attractive woman whose eyes, when they were not regarding Ikkaku with wariness, wandered up and down Yumichika's body with ill-concealed lust. Yumichika might have noticed her wanton gaze, yet he gave no indication. His demeanor was pleasant and self-assured as he conducted his business; but if he were bartering, it was the easiest bartering Ikkaku had ever seen.
"So, what will it be today, Ayasegawa-san?" the woman asked. "I put aside all the best for you. I think I still owe you for my last purchase."
Ikkaku took stock of his surroundings while Yumichika engrossed himself with picking out vegetables.
There were a good number of men out and about, giving Ikkaku much to look at and consider as potential opponents. His stern countenance garnered a number of disapproving glances and whispered comments – from both men and women. But he liked this. If he could make them distrust and dislike him from the very beginning, it would make it easier to fight them in the future. And so he intensified his glares and deepened his scowls.
After several minutes, Yumichika regained Ikkaku's attention, and they headed for the next vendor, which turned out to be a distiller's shop in one of the side streets.
Again, Yumichika was greeted with warmth and something bordering on excitement by the owner, a robust man with a ruddy complexion and a receding hairline. There was some small talk, then the man reached beneath the counter and brought out three jars.
"Three of my finest. That should even us up," the man said with a wide grin.
"Three? That's wonderful." Yumichika sounded pleasantly surprised.
"Well, it's been a while since you last came by the shop, but I've been keeping track of what I owe you," the distiller explained.
"That's very good of you," Yumichika replied. "You know I don't drink much, so I'm only now coming to the bottom of the last batch you gave me."
"Was it good?"
"Perfect," Yumichika complimented. "I'm sure this batch will be just as good."
"You can try it out on your friend," the distiller suggested, looking at Ikkaku. "Do you like sake, sir?"
Ikkaku looked sideways at him and remained silent.
"Is that a yes or a no?" the man asked.
"It's a 'don't ask me', " Ikkaku replied. "I'm not interested in mindless banter."
Yumichika visibly blanched, then in a barely controlled voice, he said, "Madarame-san, would you wait for me outside?"
Ikkaku grunted and left the shop.
"Youni-san, I'm sorry for that," Yumichika apologized the moment Ikkaku was out the door. "He's—his manners are terrible. I'm sorry."
"Who is he? I've never seen him before. Is he a friend of yours?" Youni asked.
"Not exactly," Yumichika replied. "I—I met him yesterday and he needed some help, so I took care of him a bit."
"Huh," Youni puffed, then his smile returned. "You sure know how to pick 'em."
Yumichika chuckled. "You're telling me. I have a soft spot for hard cases."
He put the jars in his basket, gave Youni a wink, and walked out to retrieve Ikkaku, who was waiting right outside the store.
As they began to walk again, Yumichika did not hesitate. "Was it necessary to be so rude?"
Ikkaku grinned. "Probably not, but it made me feel good."
"Well, it made me feel terrible. You embarrassed me in front of a regular customer, and as if that—"
"You make clothes for that man? He's the size of a house, and I'm surprised someone as egotistical as you even does business with a man that ugly," Ikkaku interrupted.
"I asked you not to cause any trouble!" Yumichika burst out in frustration. "Does it mean nothing to you that these are my neighbors, my customers, my—"
"Okay, okay, shut up! I get it. I won't say another word," Ikkaku groused.
"While you're at it, you can stop glaring at everyone, too," Yumichika added.
"Look, why don't you just tell me to get lost if I bother you so much? I'm only hanging around for the food anyway. It certainly isn't for the company," Ikkaku said pointedly.
Yumichika was on the verge of an enraged retort, but instead he drew in a deep breath, clenched his teeth and resumed walking.
Ikkaku continued beside him. "So? Tell me to get lost."
"You're such an idiot," Yumichika said under his breath.
"Stop mumbling. If you've got something to say, be a man and say it out loud," Ikkaku taunted.
But Yumichika did not take the bait. He simply kept walking.
Seeing that Yumichika could not be drawn into a confrontation, Ikkaku backed off. He followed at Yumichika's elbow, and at last they entered the final stop on their outing, which was a fabric shop. The instant Yumichika passed through the door, the shop's owner swooped down upon him like a carrion bird.
"Yumichika-san! It's good to see you! How long has it been? A week, at least," the man chattered away. "I've been saving some glorious new fabrics for you. I haven't shown them to anyone else. Come back and see them."
Yumichika smiled. "In a moment, Hinsamoi-san. I need to look at thread."
"Of course, of course. Take your time. When you're ready, we'll go into the back," the man said enthusiastically, then he froze for a moment as he noticed Ikkaku for the first time. "Ah, are you with Yumichika-san?"
Ikkaku did not reply but only stared back with a feeling of intense dislike. Suddenly, his antagonistic enjoyment of baiting Yumichika disappeared in the presence of this new acquaintance. He could not explain the immediate revulsion he felt towards the man, but he relished the idea that perhaps he had stumbled upon his first opponent. The man, Hinsamoi, was perhaps a little older than Ikkaku, sturdily built, and handsome. Like Yumichika, he had a strange delicate manner about him; but unlike Yumichika, he came across as an exaggeration of that delicacy.
When Ikkaku didn't answer, Yumichika spoke up. "This is Ikkaku Madarame. He's a guest."
"A guest?" Hinsamoi asked.
"He'll be staying with me for a few days - perhaps," Yumichika replied.
Hinsamoi studied Ikkaku for a moment. "I think I saw you yesterday passing through the village." Met by Ikkaku's silence again, he asked, "You came to visit Yumichika-san?"
"I just met him," Ikkaku said flatly.
Hinsamoi cast Yumichika a glance that bespoke a warning. "Taking in strangers? That's not like you, Yumichika."
Yumichika put a hand on Hinsamoi's arm. "I just felt like it. I'll be perfectly safe."
Here, Ikkaku stepped forward. "Yes, he will."
Hinsamoi looked from Ikkaku to Yumichika then back to Ikkaku. "Then you're welcome in my shop. Perhaps I could interest you as well in some fabrics."
Yumichika laughed. "Madarame-san has no interest in such things. But I'm anxious to see what you've got for me." He guided Hinsamoi into the back room, shooting Ikkaku a warning glare of his own.
Ikkaku returned the look and took some inner satisfaction at Yumichika's discomfort. He strolled around the shop in boredom while waiting for Yumichika to finish his business, which did not last long.
When Yumichika emerged from the back, he had his arms full of fabrics and Hinsamoi's arm around his shoulders. The gesture was enough to fill Ikkaku with disgust. It had a possessive aspect to it, and Yumichika had not struck Ikkaku as one to be possessed.
"Madarame-san, would you help me carry some of this?" Yumichika asked.
Ikkaku responded by taking all the fabrics. "You can carry the other stuff."
"Thank you." Yumichika was almost demur. It seemed to Ikkaku to be very artificial, but he said nothing.
"So, Yumichika-san, I'll see you soon," Hinsamoi said, walking them to the door. "We can discuss payment later. Make something beautiful."
As soon as they left the shop, Ikkaku spoke up. "I don't like that guy."
"What a surprise," Yumichika replied in a voice that clearly bespoke its owner's rapidly approaching limit of accommodation.
"Hey, I didn't do anything to piss him off," Ikkaku defended himself.
"I know," Yumichika said curtly.
"He just started saying that stuff on his own," Ikkaku went on, sounding accusative as well as defensive.
"I know," Yumichika replied, placid and smooth. "He worries about me. I'm his best customer, and he gives me very good deals. Of course, he'd be worried about me taking in a stranger."
"Is that what you heard?" Ikkaku asked. "That's not what I heard."
"You only just met him. I've known him for years. I think I'm better qualified than you to judge his words and their meaning," Yumichika stated emphatically.
"And I've been all over Soul Society. I've been to villages, towns and cities. I've encountered more people in one day than you've probably seen in your entire existence. I can read a man's unspoken words," Ikkaku challenged.
"And what unspoken words did you hear from him?" Yumichika asked, in a voice that was clearly making fun.
"He thinks he owns you."
Yumichika laughed. "Well, at the moment, with what I owe him for these fabrics, he does own me."
"That's not what I meant," Ikkaku snapped.
"I know what you meant," Yumichika replied. "And you're wrong. He's protective, that's all." He gave a faint smile and shrugged. "I don't see why you're concerned about it. Hinsamoi is my acquaintance, not yours. You never have to see him again if you don't want to."
"Yeah, but if you're doing business with him, I'll end up seeing him whether I want to or not," Ikkaku grumbled.
Yumichika turned his head and regarded him with a now cheerful gleam. "Then that means you'll be staying with me for a while?"
Ikkaku looked as disinterested as possible. "I already told you I'd hang around a bit."
"A place to sleep and food to eat?" Yumichika spoke the assumption.
"What other reasons would I have for staying? Especially since you won't let me fight."
"I won't let you? You talk as if I could stop you," Yumichika sniffed.
"Well, let's just say I'm going to honor your request," Ikkaku replied, adding deviously, "Until a really good opponent comes along. And you know, that bastard back there is someone I'd love to beat the crap out of."
"Madarame-san, please promise me you won't pick a fight with Hinsamoi. I can't afford to make him angry. He's very powerful in the village, and I need him for the work I do," Yumichika implored.
Ikkaku rolled his eyes. "Okay, for crying out loud, don't beg."
"Give me your word," Yumichika pressed.
"As if my word means anything," Ikkaku scoffed.
"Doesn't it? It should. You should be a man of your word—"
"Oh brother," Ikkaku groaned. "Fine, fine. Just stop lecturing me."
"Not until you give me your word."
"All right! I won't pick a fight with him," Ikkaku surrendered, anything to get Yumichika off his case. It might have been his first surrender ever, and that rankled him so he added for his own edification, "Unless he gives me good reason."
"So, what now?"
Those were Ikkaku's first words upon returning to Yumichika's home.
Yumichika began putting away his purchases. "Well, I have work to do. I have to finish that obi for the elder's wife. I'm supposed to deliver it this evening. Plus, I have a few more projects to work on."
"Hmmm, I guess I'll have to find a way to entertain myself," Ikkaku said out loud, although he had addressed the comment only to himself.
Yumichika responded anyway. "You could help the farmers in—"
"Stop right there," Ikkaku held up his hand. "I'm not a farmer."
"You don't have to be a farmer to help out," Yumichika replied.
"What other villages are nearby?" Ikkaku asked, diverting the subject.
"The nearest is Meeha, a two-hour walk to the north. Sender is about three hours to the west. Why? Do you plan to go there looking for someone to fight?"
Ikkaku crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. He smiled in anticipation of another war of words and wills. Despite all his protestations, he had to admit his own surprise at how much he enjoyed baiting and arguing with his new acquaintance.
"You don't want me to fight in this village, and I told you I'd honor that request," he said smugly. "So, I'm going to check out the other villages."
"Did it ever occur to you that I do business in those villages, too?" Yumichika asked, still focused on putting things away.
"Come on, Yumichika, the people in other villages won't know that I'm staying with you—"
"You're already to the point of calling me by my first name?" Yumichika interrupted. "There are those bad manners again."
"I'm not into all that honor bullshit," Ikkaku replied derisively.
"Clearly," Yumichika harrumphed, making a point of sauntering over to his work area.
Ikkaku's eyes narrowed deviously. "Maybe you'd like it better if I referred to you as . . .kujaku-sama. You're proud as one, and—"
"As beautiful," Yumichika interjected with a confident, provoking smirk. He caught sight of himself in one of the many mirrors adorning the walls. "No, more beautiful."
Ikkaku smiled in humor. "You're an interesting character, you know that?"
Yumichika looked at him sideways, a glint in his eye. "I know." He began sifting through the stacks of material. "Well, wherever you go, try not to overdo it. I don't want to risk anyone finding out that you're my guest and my business suffering because of it." He paused then added, "And I don't want to have to put you back together if you lose."
Ikkaku's smile turned into arrogance. "I never lose."
Yumichika held up the obi for his own inspection. He drew in a proud breath; it was a beautiful piece of work, one of the finest he had ever done. It had taken him over six weeks, which was unusual, for he was skilled in not only in design but in speed as well. But he had gone into painstaking detail on this one, and he was already anticipating a beautiful payment. Now, he had only to deliver it to the village elder's wife, and he'd still have plenty of time to take care of some other errands that needed doing.
He stepped out into a balmy evening. He locked the door then stopped to reconsider. Ikkaku had left that morning right after they had come back from Hinsamoi's. It had been before noon, and there was no question that he could make it to any of the nearby villages and back easily in one afternoon. But the truth was that Yumichika did not believe that Ikkaku would be returning. Mito had been stifling to him; he had set off in search of the fight for which he had been hungering, and Yumichika was sure he would find it. Even if he didn't find it, it was unlikely he would return to Yumichika. The question was whether food and shelter were more desirable than fighting.
Somehow, Yumichika felt Ikkaku valued the latter more than the former. He left the door locked.
It was past midnight when Yumichika came home. He was tired but content with the day's business transactions. He would certainly be able to buy some nice things with the profits.
"You're home late."
Yumichika startled and looked up to see the silhouette of Ikkaku sitting on the roof just over the door.
"You came back," Yumichika said as Ikkaku jumped down to the ground.
"Of course, I did. I told you I would. You look surprised." Ikkaku sounded pleased that he had caught Yumichika by off-guard.
"I know, but . . . well, I thought that once you got to one of the other villages, you might find more excitement and decide to stay there," Yumichika explained.
"Well, there was some action," Ikkaku admitted, "But the prospect of a warm bed and a hot meal drew me back."
"You want a meal at this hour?" Yumichika asked.
"All that fighting made me hungry," Ikkaku replied.
Yumichika's gaze wandered in scrutiny over his face. "And undid all my work patching you up yesterday."
Ikkaku grinned. "So, it'll give you something to do tonight."
"I already had something planned for tonight – sleep," Yumichika said, opening the door.
"Well, the night's already half gone. Where were you? I've been waiting here for almost two hours." Ikkaku followed him inside.
"I had things to do," Yumichika replied casually.
"Things that kept you out until this hour?" Ikkaku pressed. "Sounds interesting."
"Don't be lewd," Yumichika chastised. "Go sit down and I'll make you something to eat."
"I'm going to clean up a bit first," Ikkaku announced.
Yumichika smiled to himself. A small improvement, but improvement nonetheless.
An hour later, Ikkaku leaned back in tired satisfaction. Again, Yumichika had delivered a tasty meal, looked after his injuries, and done so without complaint.
Ikkaku had recounted his journey to Meeha village, his short-lived bout with two men, easily defeated, and his uneventful walk back to Mito. Yumichika had listened, expressed his relief that the two adversaries had apparently been transients and therefore, not likely any of his customers, and even laughed at Ikkaku's description of the dullards inhabiting Meeha.
"Of course, it's not so different from here," Ikkaku remarked. "This place is as boring as it comes. You're the only interesting thing here."
"Thing? I'm a thing?" Yumichika feigned insult.
"Well—"
"You could have at least said beautiful thing," Yumichika prompted.
Ikkaku grinned. "I thought that went without saying."
Yumichika actually colored, and that made Ikkaku grin even more.
"Don't tell me I embarrassed you," he challenged.
"No," Yumichika replied. "I just . . . well, I know you like to make fun of me."
"I wasn't making fun of you," Ikkaku protested. "You think you're beautiful. Apparently, so do others in this village. So, it goes without saying. You don't need to keep reminding me."
The crimson deepened in Yumichika's cheek. "Sorry."
Ikkaku congratulated himself silently. He had succeeded in humbling Yumichika, but he didn't want 'humbled' to turn into 'humiliated'.
"Besides," he said, standing up to take his own plate to the kitchen area. "I have eyes. I can see it for myself."
This remark brought a pleased smile to Yumichika's face, and he joined Ikkaku at the basin. "I'll take care of those."
"I've got it," Ikkaku insisted. "Why don't you go to bed?"
Yumichika brightened even further. "You're offering to help."
Ikkaku gave him a sideways glance. "Just to prove to you – I do have my uses." He paused. "But can I assume that you won't be getting up before the crack of dawn since we're going to bed so late?"
"Hm, I can't guarantee that. But I promise I'll be quiet enough that you won't hear me," Yumichika replied.
"No cooking?"
"Okay," Yumichika conceded. "Not until you wake up." He began putting together his makeshift bed.
"And I'm not going to kick you out of your own bed again," Ikkaku stated.
Yumichika was smiling fully now. He was pleased with Ikkaku's improved thoughtfulness, but he was not particularly surprised. After all, he had confidence in his beauty and its ability to overcome even the most hardened of hearts.
"That's fine," he said. "I'll just make this up for you then."
"I can do that myself—"
"It's not a problem, Madarame-san. I don't mind," Yumichika insisted. And that was the truth: he really didn't mind.