Yumichika woke to a rooster crowing somewhere in the street, but he was too comfortable to move. His body had formed a nest in the hard futon that had pushed away the biggest lumps, and a large, warm body was curled around him, tucked against him from nape to ankles. Soft breath stirred his hair, wafting over the shell of his ear, and a heavy, leanly muscled arm was folded around his waist, keeping him pulled tightly against someone as warm as a brand.

He shifted a little, yawning, wriggling a little closer to that comforting heat. Yesterday seemed like a distant memory, like something that had happened to someone else. Even the stripes on his back didn't hurt so much, despite the pressure of Ikkaku pressed to them. Actually, he felt better than he had for a long time, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake up to face another day.

"Stop moving," Ikkaku mumbled. "Stop it, I said..."

His arm tightened just a bit then relaxed. Yumichika felt the arm pillowing his head shift just a bit and the boy heard Ikkaku's sword scrape along the floor. He never let that thing out of his sight for a second, not even when he slept.

The rooster crowed again, the noise followed by a sleepy shout from outside somewhere. The town began to wake, rising wearily to face another empty day. How many times had they all been here? How many lives had they lived in the World of the Living and in Soul Society? It seemed horrifying to Yumichika that a spirit could be reborn so many times without retaining any knowledge of its former life - all of those memories, every precious thing held dear, every favorite place and favorite food, all of it forgotten, lost to a life that might as well have never been...

"Hey," Ikkaku lowly said, shifting a little at his back. "Knock it off, whatever it is you're doing."

"I'm just thinking, that can't possibly be bothering you," Yumichika whispered, though he wasn't sure why since they both were awake.

"It is," Ikkaku insisted, yawning. "You've coiled up like a spring, is what, so knock it off."

"Hmph."

Yumichika sat up and scooted over to the basin, intending to wash his face. The water was pink with his blood, and cold.

A scratch at the door had Ikkaku on his feet like a startled cat, his grey eyes wild.

"P...please excuse me, I'm not dressed," Yumichika softly said, hoping he sounded feminine enough. He glared at Ikkaku, who'd wisely frozen in place.

"Would you like some washing water?" the innkeeper's wife asked. "I've got a kettle here, if you'd like to set the other out, I'll come collect it later."

"That would be wonderful, and thank you for your consideration," Yumichika breathed.

"Oh, such manners!" the woman sighed, giggling softly. "Is there anything else I can get for you, young Lady?"

"Some breakfast, if you have any to spare? I'll leave the coin for it with the kettle."

"I'll send my daughter to market as soon as it opens. Let us know if you need anything, dear," she said, and there was a soft rustle as she moved off.

Ikkaku slumped in relief, sighing.

"Here, be useful and dump this out," Yumichika told him, handing the used basin to him.

Ikkaku scowled at him, but did so without protest as Yumichika hesitantly opened the sliding door.

A tea set was waiting on a tray, and the additional kettle was on a thick mat beside it. The scent of the tea was weak, but Yumichika was beginning to understand that these people had so little to give that such an offering was truly meaningful.

He quickly pulled the set inside, snagged the kettle, and firmly shut the door.

"Here," Ikkaku said, tossing the bowl down on the mat next to the fire. "It's empty, brat."

With an unconsciously prim properness, Yumichika took the bowl. "Thank you."

Ikkaku hunkered down next to him, squatting on his heels to watch Yumichika serve the tea. When he took his cup, he drank it in one go, rolling his eyes at the way the younger boy softly sipped his.

"We need to figure out what we're going to do," Ikkaku told him, breaking his silence.

"Do?"

"With you," Ikkaku clarified, accepting a second cup when Yumichika wordlessly poured for him. "We can't keep on pretending you're a girl. You're bound to grow eventually."

"Ikkaku, as much as I detest being mistaken for a woman, it is a little convenient right now," Yumichika said, thinking of the situation he'd gotten himself into. His father would die.

Which seemed reason enough for Yumichika to live the rest of his life as a woman...but even though he could bring new definition to the word spiteful, he wasn't about to bring harm to himself to do so. With a deep sigh, he said, "I guess a noble of any gender would be talked about?"

"Look, I know you don't want to go back to where there are a lot of snobby people like you," Ikkaku said, winning a pretty scowl from the smaller boy. "So here's this - get washed up or whatever it is rich folk do in the morning, change into whatever girlie get-up you want to prance around in, and we'll slip out the garden here as two guys."

He paused and considered, adding, "Well...one guy and a kid who could go either way."

"I have a sword," Yumichika reminded him. "And I have little trouble using it."

It got Ikkaku to grin, but not precisely take him seriously.

"Then what?" Yumichika asked, giving up the battle for now, little knowing it would be the first of countless capitulations made for the sake of Madarame Ikkaku.

"Then we leave," the youth told him, shrugging broad shoulders that promised to become even broader with age. "We'll make our way around to a better district, I'll stash you somewhere and go sell that kimono, and then..."

Yumichika lifted an eyebrow, haughty yet curious.

"...well...we'll figure it out," Ikkaku said, gesturing the whole issue away. "At any rate, you'll be safe with me, and you can earn your keep somehow. Maybe I'll teach you to fight, so that you can take care of yourself when I die."

Yumichika pulled a pretty expression of disgust and told him in no uncertain terms, "You will not die, Madarame Ikkaku! It's just rude!"

Ikkaku chuckled darkly and told him, "Finish your tea, brat."

Surprisingly, Ikkaku washed up with him, something Yumichika gallantly didn't make a fuss over. He figured that if he said even one word, Ikkaku would refuse to so much as look at a washcloth ever again.

"We could wait for the food," Yumichika said, focusing on something else as they cleaned up. He didn't particularly like baring his skin in front of anyone else, but Ikkaku took it as a matter of course and his utter lack of reaction soothed the smaller boy.

"Nah, we'll get something later," Ikkaku gruffly told him. "We'll get out of here before the town gets too rowdy and go sell off your kimono."

"Tsh, my nails are a mess," Yumichika mourned, doing his best to clean the grime out from beneath his ragged, snagged nails. "Uhg, how ugly. My maid would've fainted dead away to see my hands in this state. What a shame!"

He glanced up to find Ikkaku watching him with his usual scowl.

"Eh? What is it?"

"You," Ikkaku said, and shook his wrist once, hard, to emphasize his point. "Are you a man? Crying about your nails like a little girl, heh! How embarrassing."

"Well, pardon me for refusing to walk around looking like an outcast from a salt quarry, thank you very much!" Yumichika tartly told him, then cast another longing look at his hands. "They were so beautiful," he softly sighed, more to antagonize Ikkaku than anything.

"Heh, what a stupid thing to cry about!" Ikkaku declared, and gained his feet in one fluid, graceful movement. He tapped his sheathed sword restlessly against his calf and took a quick look outside while Yumichika finished dressing. "Okay, fold that kimono up and put it in with the bandages; we're leaving."

"Is it safe?" Yumichika inquired, reluctantly thinking that his father was very likely on his trail by now, and would most certainly have both the means and the determination to catch up to him far faster than Yumichika could outpace him.

"Yeah, hardly anyone is up yet," Ikkaku said. "Come on, I said, Yumichika! Don't lay there all day crying about your fingernails!"

Yumichika smirked but did as he was directed, eager to be up and away, to be even further from the chilly shadow of his father's hand. The chances that he could evade his father forever were pretty slim, but he intended to give the man a good run. Maybe, if he made his father angry enough, he'd be punished away from the family homestead instead of in the middle of it.

The pair of them slipped out into the garden and through the gate onto the dusty, uneven road. Just as Ikkaku had said, hardly anyone was up yet but for merchants and some industrious individuals who farmed.

Yumichika felt very nearly inconspicuous in his newly-purchased kimono as they walked along, and hoped it was ruse enough to throw his father's headhunters for a little while.

"Hey, Yumichika," Ikkaku said, glancing at him from the corners of his sly, grey eyes. "How's your back, brat?"

"Oh? Fine," Yumichika answered, shrugging his shoulders a little to test the skin. "That salve worked wonders. Why do you think she gave it to us?"

"Who knows?" Ikkaku answered, turning his head to sweep the street, always on the alert. "Maybe you reminded her of someone..."

He lifted his sword to his shoulders and draped his arms over it in his usual negligent pose, his long feet kicking up dust on the road.

Yumichika glanced behind them, the fine hairs on his nape standing up when he saw two somberly-clad men coming out of a residence. Without thinking, he barreled into Ikkaku, both of them falling into the shadow of a clothesline strung with laundry.

"Eh? Yumichika! What - " Ikkaku abruptly cut himself off when he got a look at the boy's terrified face. In what might've passed for a whisper in his terms, he asked, "Where?"

"There, across the street and up," Yumichika answered, his heart pounding painfully. He was trembling and he hated it, hated that his father had the power to make him go weak with terror, even from such a distance. "He's sent out searchers...it's only a matter of time before he gets a lead and sends his headhunters."

"Ah, well, I'll deal with them," Ikkaku announced, and started to take a step out of the shadows.

"Ikkaku!" Yumichika snagged him by the hard muscle of his bicep and forcefully tried pulling him back, an action that was only successful because Ikkaku didn't resist it. "Are you crazy? My father's men are very dangerous! We need to go far, far away! Please!"

Ikkaku glared at him, his mouth pulled down in a frown, but something in Yumichika's utter, stark fear seemed to decide him. "You think I can't handle them? Eh?"

Yumichika drew up, more from fear now than from his natural haughtiness, and told him in short, clipped tones, "No. I do not!"

The second he said it, he knew he shouldn't have. In fact, it was probably the last thing in the world he should have said - the words were no sooner out of his mouth than Ikkaku was out in the middle of the street, stomping his way up towards those men.

Yumichika made a soft, despairing sound of frustration and crowded close to the pole holding up the clothes, peeking out from behind a flapping sheet to see Ikkaku in all of his cocky glory.

"Man, what a boring day!" Ikkaku said, his loud voice echoing off of the quiet houses. "What a stupid town this is! How come no one wants to fight me, eh?"

"Hey, you there!" one of the men said, turning to watch Ikkaku. "Maybe you can help me - "

"Help you, eh?" Ikkaku asked, drifting to a stop just beyond the man's reach. "Why should I?"

Even from such a distance Yumichika could see the man flush with anger and irritation, and he silently cursed Ikkaku for baiting him.

"There's a reward," the man said, making Yumichika's blood run cold. He was too much his father's son to think that anyone could resist a reward, especially if it was of a sum far in excess of expected. His heart sped up again, deafening him, and he nearly bolted.

But then he thought of Ikkaku so carefully putting salve on his wounds and he hesitated. He didn't know much about that violent and rude young man, but if he couldn't put his faith in Ikkaku's promise, then what good was there in running? He'd be caught for sure without help and maybe, just maybe, Ikkaku would choose Yumichika over the reward.

"How much?" Ikkaku asked.

"Ten thousand kan for any information on a certain someone," the man told him, relaxing in the face of Ikkaku's apparent interest. "One hundred thousand if you can tell us where he is."

Ikkaku scratched his bald head, considering, then shrugged, asking, "Who's the criminal, eh?" When the men shifted in discomfort, he said with increased volume and heat, "Who is it, I said! One hundred thousand kan must mean he's dangerous."

"No," the man said, exchanging stiff looks with his partner. "He's a young noble, twelve years old but small for his age."

"Noble, eh?" Ikkaku mused. "How noble?"

"He is a Prince," the man flared, quick to defend the status of his chosen house. "His family will pay handsomely to have him returned unharmed."

"What a stupid thing to do," Ikkaku told them, shrugging his sword down to hold it loosely at his side. "Running away from a rich family like a brainless idiot."

"Oh!" Yumichika fumed, fists clenching behind the sheet, nearly revealing himself in his outrage.

"But I guess I would, too," Ikkaku said, confusing the men before him. "If my father was a monster like Ichigawa Daichi..."

They leapt away from him, swords appearing from sheaths concealed in their garments.

"How do you know our employer?" the man demanded, his hands tightening on his sword hilt. "Explain yourself!"

"Explain myself?!" Ikkaku asked, the volume of his voice raising yet again. "Hey, listen you two - I'll give you a head start, since there's only two of you."

They laughed, but didn't seem to understand him. "We don't need a head start from you, brat! Tell us where the Prince is, and we'll let you live."

Ikkaku grinned, Yumichika could tell from the way he cocked his head and the tightening of his wide shoulders.

"Ah, well, that's a problem," he said, his voice lowering suddenly, so low that Yumichika almost couldn't make out his words. "You see, I don't care about living."

Both men seemed taken aback by the statement, unsure how to proceed.

"I don't care, I said!" Ikkaku snarled, pointing at them with his sheathed sword. "So let's see which one of us dies today!"

Yumichika clasped both hands over his mouth, biting down on his palm to hold in his horrified wail. He hadn't been trying to deceive Ikkaku when he'd spoken of dangerous men. His father, latest Clan head in a long line of nobles who'd sent sons into the Stealth Force, tolerated no less than exceptional talent in any of his people, including his children. Even the least of his men, like these out searching for Yumichika now, were lethally dangerous.

Ikkaku wouldn't stand a chance.

He was out from behind the sheet and tearing down the road before his brain had a chance to remind him of what waited back home. All he could think of was that he didn't want stupid, brash, ridiculously brave Madarame Ikkaku to die in the road like a dog for the sake of a vain, hot-headed boy running from his father.

"Stop!" he shrieked, and the three of them broke apart, two of them staring at him in dazed incomprehension while the third glared daggers at him. Trembling, on the verge of terrified tears, he said, "Don't kill him."

"Yumichika!" Ikkaku shouted, outraged. "I won't be killed by the likes of these two!"

"Please," Yumichika said, ignoring Ikkaku for now, because if he even looked at the youth's scowling face, he'd probably come apart at the seams. He'd never had someone to be brave for before meeting Madarame Ikkaku; knowing that going back might save the scrappy young man's life made the fear lessen just a little. "He's got nothing to do with this. It's my fault that he's here at all; I asked him for his aide and he graciously provided it. Let him go."

"Prince Ichigawa Kanesuke," one of the men said, and even this close Yumichika didn't know him. "Your father desires your presence at home."

He laughed a little, knowing full well what that meant, and then he was able to look at Ikkaku.

"I'm sorry I got you into this," he said, and tossed the bundled kimono to land in the dust at Ikkaku's widespread feet. "Sell it and live well, Madarame Ikkaku."

"Eh? What's this, now?" Ikkaku asked, nudging it out of the way. "You talk like you're leaving, but you're not, Yumichika. You're not, I said!"

He lunged towards the men with a speed that startled Yumichika, and brought his sheathed sword down hard on an unprotected shoulder.

"You think I would go to all of this trouble for nothing? Eh?!" Ikkaku shouted, pummeling with his free fist as well as with his sword. "Show me that you can take care of yourself, Yumichika, and I'll let you go!"

"I...Ikkaku..."

Those grey eyes cut to his, full of amusement, damn him, and a pride so vast that there was plenty for Yumichika, too.

"Or are you worried about your nails? Eh?" Ikkaku asked, rapidly avoiding the retaliating fists aimed his direction.

That decided him - Yumichika slid his sword from his sash and leapt into the fray.

It felt good to fight, to lash back at the power that had always controlled him. So the skin of his back pulled open again, what of it? He was here, in this dirty street in an ugly district, but he was next to Ikkaku and holding his own against men who killed for a living. If he could survive to gloat about it, what a story this would be!

"Draw your swords!" Ikkaku yelled, the pair of them staggering back, Yumichika slightly behind him. "Draw your swords, I said!"

"We will not draw our swords in the presence of the Prince," the man stiffly told them, holding the sheathed weapon in his hand to counter Ikkaku's hits. "We cannot risk allowing harm to come to him."

"Heh, how boring," Ikkaku pronounced it, then shrugged again. "Eh, no helping it, then. We'll settle this like men...well, kind of like men."

"Hmph." Yumichika refused to rise to the bait. He felt slightly more confident now that they hadn't been killed outright, but the dust was starting to cling to him, and he just knew that he had dirt on his face. "Hurry up, Ikkaku. Fighting in a dirty street, it's just not beautiful."

Ikkaku grinned fiercely and flung himself back into the fray with Yumichika right behind him.

They won, surprisingly, a fact that only penetrated Yumichika's mind when he realized that both men were out cold in the street. Panting, he looked at Ikkaku and smiled, relieved.

"Hey, Yumichika," Ikkaku said, rapidly regaining his breath. "It might not be beautiful, but we did it. Didn't I tell you that I'd take care of you?"

He nodded, blushing a little beneath the layer of dust on his skin because Ikkaku's words warmed him from the depths of his heart all the way to his toes. "Don't gloat, Ikkaku. We might not've won if they'd drawn steel."

"Ah, well, they didn't, and a win is a win," Ikkaku said, straightening to settle his sword over his shoulders again. "Come on, Yumichika, let's get away from this place. If he sends more like these two, things should be fun."

"Fun? Hmph," Yumichika sighed, smoothing his hair back behind his ear. It was straggling from the quick horsetail he'd pulled it into and threatening to break free altogether. "What a strange idea of fun you have, Ikkaku."

The older boy headed off and Yumichika fell into step beside him after retrieving the kimono once more.

"So, that sword of yours," Ikkaku said, slowing his pace just a shade to accommodate Yumichika's shorter stride. "You know how to use it?"

"Ah, yes," Yumichika said, smiling slightly. "Of course I do."

"Let me see it," Ikkaku said, holding out one strong, capable hand for Yumichika's graceful weapon.

The smaller boy handed it over without any of his usual sass, feeling a little flattered that Ikkaku would show an interest in something of his without the intent to tease him about it.

"Hm..." Ikkaku unsheathed it with one hand, just enough to see the blade, then held it up by the middle, checking the balance. "It's a beautiful sword. Did your father have it made?"

"It's a family heirloom," Yumichika said, sliding a little closer. "I think my father's grandfather commissioned it."

"How did you end up with it?" Ikkaku asked, letting the blade drop back into the sheath and turning it to inspect the guard and hilt.

"My father was going to sell it," Yumichika said, frowning. "My eldest brother slipped it to me and told me not to say anything."

"Oh? Why?"

Yumichika shrugged a little. "He was always nice to me and our sisters. Not very many people were. I'm glad he'll take over the Clan when father dies. It will be nice for everyone to have someone just in charge."

Ikkaku handed the sword back, his grey eyes full of questions.

"How many brothers and sisters do you have, Yumichika?"

"Seven brothers, all older than me," Yumichika answered. "Three sisters older than me, and four younger. The youngest pair are twins my stepmother just delivered. There will probably be more. She seems pretty...prolific."

"That's a word for it," Ikkaku snorted, shaking his head. "So how many of you are blood siblings?"

"I don't have any, my mother died having me," Yumichika told him. "Only his eldest three sons share the same mother, the rest of us are all by his wives or concubines. At least I'm legitimate, though. Some of my half-siblings are servants because of it..."

"Hmph."

Ikkaku didn't seem particularly impressed by Yumichika's lineage.

"What about you?" he asked, turning the tables. "Where did you get your sword?"

Ikkaku sobered considerably, all humor dropping from his stern young face. His voice was stiff when he said, "It was with me when I got here."

Yumichika stared at him, sure that such a thing was not possible.

"W...what?"

"It was with me when I got here, I said!" Ikkaku repeated, glaring at him as if Yumichika had disagreed. "I died there with it, and when I finally woke up here, he was in my hand!"

"He?" Yumichika asked, reaching out to touch the sheath. Ikkaku drew it back for just a second, then shoved it at Yumichika to cover the movement. "Your sword has a gender?"

"Yeah," Ikkaku said, watching attentively, as if even a second away from his sword was a cause for concern. "Ever since I can remember, he's...been there."

Yumichika gave him a curious look, surprised whenever Ikkaku blushed and snatched the sword away.

"I don't think I understand," Yumichika admitted. "The only swords with spirits are the Death Gods' Soul Cutters. Is this a Soul Cutter?"

"I don't know!" Ikkaku snapped, sliding the sword to his other side and out of sight. "How would I know? It's always talked to me, is all! When I dream, I can hear him sometimes."

"Well, what does he say?" Yumichika asked, covering his nosiness in pragmatism.

Ikkaku gazed down at the dusty road, lost in thought, then lowly answered, "He says his name...only...I can't hear him clearly. Someday, though, I'll hear him and I'll know."

"Hmph."

It was something to think about, though. Yumichika had, as Prince Kanesuke, been exposed to many a Death God in his day and the facts surrounding them were simply a part of life as he knew it. Yet here was Madarame Ikkaku, torn from the World of the Living before his appointed time, waking in Soul Society with a sword that, by all rights, shouldn't have a spirit inside of it. Was it possible for commoners to become Death Gods?

The two boys walked clear out of that district and circled around to head back towards the center, where the kimono would fetch the highest price. Yumichika, still unused to such abusive excess of walking, lagged to the point of being slow by the time the sun began to set. He was tired and hungry, having spent all of the adrenaline left over from their fight. They hadn't stopped to eat at all and Ikkaku didn't seem inclined to. In fact, when Yumichika finally stopped dead in his tracks, Ikkaku glared at him and asked, "Eh? What's this? What're you doing?"

"Stopping," Yumichika ground out, casting around for somewhere to sit. He was physically fit and used to exercise, given the strenuous nature of his drills and the expectations of his father, but he wasn't hardened to such repetitive movement and lacked Ikkaku's natural stamina.

"Stopping?! Why?"

"Because I'm tired, you idiot!" Yumichika flared, flinging the bundled kimono at Ikkaku, who caught it with a reflexive snatch of one hand. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm thirsty, and I'm filthy!"

"Eh, yeah, well, you are filthy," Ikkaku agreed, getting a fierce glare for his trouble. "Sorry, Yumichika, I wasn't careful enough of you."

It sucked his temper right out and left him merely weak with exhaustion. With a weary shake of his head he said, "Nevermind it, Ikkaku. I can look after myself. Right now, I want water, and food, and a hot, hot bath."

"Heh," Ikkaku laughed a little, amused by his priorities. "I'd say the bath comes first, Yumichika - you look like hell."

"Oh! How dare you!" Yumichika cried, outraged. "And after I helped you in that fight!"

Ikkaku's gleeful chuckles stifled his protests and made him flush again, this time at himself for being so easy to rile.

"Here, now, brat," Ikkaku said, snagging him by the arm. "You're right. It's late and we need to rest. Come on, I'll find you a bathhouse. Maybe one of the other women there can tend your nails."

"One of the other w - Ikkaku!" he snarled, but stumbled along with the youth regardless.

Ikkaku dragged him through the lantern-lit streets to the public bathhouse and got Yumichika safely inside, explaining everything to him in short, quick instructions.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Yumichika asked, reluctantly removing his kimono, giving Ikkaku his back.

"Because I'm not staying," Ikkaku said, deftly unwrapping the bandages.

The first touch of warm water to his healing wounds pulled Yumichika out of his shock enough to testily ask, "Oh? So you're just abandoning me here?"

Ikkaku rudely snorted, saying, "Shut up, brat. I do as I please, the same as you."

"Actually, it seems like I do as you please, thank you very much!" Yumichika corrected him, wincing a little as a scab pulled loose.

"Yeah? Well, that's just the way of it," Ikkaku said, not even having the good grace to lie and deny it. "There you are, Yumichika. Wash up and go soak for awhile, I'll be back."

"Don't bother!" the younger boy flared, irritated. While it seemed he couldn't get further than five steps away from Ikkaku without someone getting badly battered, Ikkaku had no qualms leaving him.

Ikkaku just chuckled and said, "See you, Yumichika."

He poked his nose into the air until Ikkaku was well away, then set to washing up, muttering angrily about bald, hard-headed fools. It was hard to stay too angry, however, when a bath was so delightful. The soap was harsh and stung his delicate skin, but it did a wonderful job of stripping the dirt away. He didn't even mind that it turned his long, silky black hair into a snarled mess - he was clean at last, and glad of it.

There was no one else in the bathhouse, which relieved him somewhat. If there was one thing that Yumichika hated, it was making a mistake, thank you very much, especially in front of an audience! Not to mention that he had the soaking pool all to himself, and he settled into it with a sigh of mingled pain and relief as the warm water engulfed his wounded back.

Yumichika was still soaking in the bath when Ikkaku returned, sulkily paddling his feet at the end of the pool. The youth had already washed up and rinsed to join him, and had his towel in hand as he approached, naked as birth.

"The attendant was really grouchy!" he loudly remarked, hanging his towel up out of the way. Yumichika looked away out of respect as Ikkaku eased down into the hot water next to him, so he missed that the young man had something in his left hand.

"It's because we came at the end of the day," Yumichika told him, looking over at him once the water had settled. "See? No one else is here."

"Yeah, well, money is money," Ikkaku said. With a show of being put out, he held up his hand and said, "Here, give me your hand."

"What? No," Yumichika immediately refused, simply from habit.

"Give me your hand, I said!" Ikkaku shouted, wiggling his fingers. When Yumichika reluctantly lay his own in Ikkaku's palm, the youth seized his fingers and spread them. With a look of concentrated effort on his face, he produced a thin sliver of pumice stone and - much to Yumichika's blank shock - began to smooth the other boy's ragged nails with it.

"Ikkaku..."

"What?" he asked, peering at the nail and smoothing down a place that didn't quite match. "You were complaining so much about it. I got tired of hearing you."

"You shouldn't have that in here," Yumichika whispered, because there was no way he'd say what he was really thinking - which was a heartfelt thank you. Never in a billion years would he have imagined hot-headed and impatient Madarame Ikkaku capable of thinking up such a solution, let alone being kind and gentle enough to put it into action himself.

"Shut up, I said," Ikkaku told him, an old chant by now. "Now you don't have to cry about your nails anymore. You can actually act like a man."

Yumichika just smiled, warmed to his soul in a way that the bath water had no bearing on. He'd been attended by anxious servants, bathed and pampered by people living in fear of his father's wrath, but never once had he felt as cared for as he did having rough, rude Ikkaku so meticulously tending his nails. The youth's concentration had grown to the point that he stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, which caused Yumichika to stifle a giggle.

Ikkaku's grey eyes cut up to his, but then he grinned, pleased that his surprise had lifted Yumichika's spirits.

"Stop being so unhappy, brat," he said, finishing his painstaking work on Yumichika's right hand after a long, focused silence. "Things aren't so bad as all that. I'll take care of you, I said. You need that. It's all you know."

"I'm not so very helpless, Ikkaku," Yumichika told him, offering his left hand, which the youth took without protest.

"If you say so," he absently answered, absorbed in his work. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself, but it was a challenge that would appeal to someone as competitive as Ikkaku, getting all of the nails to be uniform and perfect.

"I'll do yours after," Yumichika offered, feeling generous.

"Nah. Ragged nails are manly. I'll keep mine."

"Dolt."

"Brat."

Ikkaku shot him a look that kept him quiet, and when he was done he held the sliver of pumice stone out to Yumichika and said, "Keep it, so I won't have to hear you cry anymore."

Yumichika took it, intending to keep it, but only part of that was due to the fact that he had soft, easily-worn nails. Mostly he would keep it because it was the first gift ever given to him that had any real meaning or intent behind it.

"Thank you, Ikkaku," he said, stifling a smile when the youth beamed at him, pleased and not ashamed to show it.

"You're welcome," Ikkaku replied. "Come on, let's get some food and sake."

"Sake? Oh, I can't..."

"You will," Ikkaku said, his glare and tone just daring Yumichika to nay-say him. "Come on, I said!"

He stood up in a flood of water, his bare feet slapping wetly on the floor all the way to his towel. He held out Yumichika's, waiting for him to get out.

"Don't look," the younger boy said, oddly uneasy about his smaller body. He wasn't strung with ropey muscle like Ikkaku. His limbs didn't hold the promise of greater height or mass - not that he wanted them, they wouldn't be beautiful on him and he had no desire to change when he was perfect just as he was. But he didn't want Ikkaku thinking him weak and small, not when Ikkaku himself was strong with the surety that he'd get even stronger, even taller.

"Heh? You keep insisting you aren't a girl, Yumichika! Why should I care what you look like?!" Ikkaku shouted at him, shaking the towel for emphasis. "Come on! I get grouchy when I'm hungry!"

"Clearly," Yumichika breathed, offended. Screwing up his dignity, he rose and snatched his towel in one fluid movement that was fast enough to mostly hide his nudity. He needn't have bothered, however; Ikkaku had looked away.

"Thank you."

"Shut up!" Ikkaku growled. "You keep saying that, it's making me uneasy. It isn't like you to be grateful."

"Then maybe I'm trying to change?"

That got Ikkaku's grey eyes to swing back to him, narrow with suspicion and curiosity.

"Not too much," he abruptly said, and trudged off to get his clothes. "I'll get dressed first, brat. Then you'll have the dressing room all to yourself."

Yumichika watched him go, sauntering proudly off like he was king of the world without a care, bald head and bare bottom and all.

'Not too much...'

"I'm blushing," Yumichika murmured, pressing his hands to his warm cheeks, realizing with a start that he was smiling. Could it be that he finally had...a friend?

He bounded after, catching up as Ikkaku was sliding his garment on.

"Eh? What's your hurry? I'm not done yet."

"It's okay," Yumichika told him, his cheeks still pink. "You won't laugh at me."

"Heh?" Ikkaku asked, confused. "Why would I laugh at you?"

Yumichika shimmied out of his towel, still flustered despite his resolve. Ikkaku frowned, trying to puzzle out the younger boy's change, and finally realized with a broad grin, "Ah!"

"Ah, what?" Yumichika asked, hurriedly trying to organize his fundoshi, which only made his movements clumsy and graceless as he attempted to put it on properly.

"You talk so much about yourself, I wouldn't have guessed," Ikkaku said, unaffected by the other boy's nudity. Apparently, he wasn't going to stoop to teasing or insulting Yumichika, despite all of the ample ammunition afforded him.

"Guessed what?" he asked, fumbling his new juban on over his underclothes.

"You're shy." Ikkaku's voice dripped with gleeful orneriness and his grin was wide enough to make Yumichika pause, but only for a split second.

Yumichika felt safer once he had those layers on, and was able to finish with a little less tension. "It's just that...I won't ever be as tall as you're going to get. I won't ever fill out like you."

"So?" Ikkaku's frown returned. "What's that matter? You're Yumichika...well, now you are. I'm Ikkaku and I've always been. Why would you be my size? You'd look funny anyway. You're fine as you are."

"It's just that people expect things," Yumichika softly said, tying his ties, smoothing his folds. "I know I'm beautiful. I just dislike having people look at me and think I should be some other way."

"Ah, I see," Ikkaku said, nodding sagely. "It's because you're shy."

"I'm the smallest of all my brothers."

"And also the youngest, yeah?" Ikkaku pointed out. "Don't worry, Yumichika, no one will tease you now. And if they do, they're wrong and you should pound them. But let me have the first go, will you?"

"As if I could stop you," Yumichika said, smiling at the way Ikkaku lit up at even the idea of a fight. "I'm sure we'll get into plenty of fights. But I can handle them. I was training to join the Stealth Force, you know."

"Eh? Stealth Force? Hm, interesting..."

The gleam in his grey eyes was calculating and assessing, transferring his knowledge of Yumichika to his knowledge of the Stealth Force.

"No," Yumichika said, deciding to be preemptive.

"Heh?!"

"No, we're not going to fight," Yumichika firmly told him. "We're going to go eat and find a place to sleep."

"We're not going to fight right now," Ikkaku amended, grinning his wide grin. "But we are going to fight."

Yumichika smiled at him, realizing that he was absolutely serious and that he had no misgivings at all due to Yumichika's understated size.

"Yes," he agreed, sliding his sword through his sash, finished with dressing. "We are going to fight, Madarame Ikkaku."

And hearing the youth's raspy, rough chuckle was certainly worth every effort that fight would take him, because Yumichika finally, finally had a friend.