Here we go with Chapter 2. There is technically no Yumi in this chapter, I hope you aren't all too disappointed. Forgive me for Ikkaku's characterisation, it hasn't come out quite right. I hope to rectify that next chapter. It's partly down to the awkward position he's been put in; I'd like to think so anyway.
Crazy Authoresses CAT and AMS- Thanks for the great review, it's nice to know specifics. Yes we can have a Sue fire; in fact, I have one burning right now. Hope the update is speedy enough. I can't promise it'll always be this fast though. I am a busy college student.
Terminally Mental- I take your slightly awed tone as a good sign. Thanks for the review. Hope this is to your liking.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. Funnily enough Tite Kubo owns Bleach.
Enjoy.
"You will let me see him now."
Madarame Ikkaku, a man not known for his patience, had kept his temper so far, but there was only so much polite distraction he could take. He didn't raise his voice, an admirable show of control from a Shinigami with little, but he stood taller, impressing the fact of his height and superior strength upon the Fourth Division Shinigami who still saw fit to detain him. The only one who now saw fit to do so, the rest having long vacated the room at a run.
The healer wilted under his scrutiny, but held his ground. "Madarame- san, you should really remain in bed. You still need to rest."
"I couldn't care less about that!" growled the Third Seat. He was trying to be nice, but this healer made it so damn difficult. "I'm perfectly able to get up and move about, and if I'm capable of that, I'm capable of going to see Yumichika. Let me see him."
"Please Madarame- san, Unohana- taichou said that you and Matsumoto- san should rest." The Fourth Division Shinigami flapped his hands like a distressed bird, which only irritated Ikkaku further. "Ayasegawa- san isn't even allowed visitors at the moment. I'm sorry."
"I don't want to hear your excuses." The Third Seat growled, disgusted by the healer's whimpering. "I want to see Yumichika so you will take me to see him." The healer started to apologise again, now taking shelter behind the door to Ikkaku's room.
"Now!"
"Madarame- san." Unohana arrived to save her endangered subordinate from a very messy extinction.
"Unohana- taichou." Ikkaku acknowledged her with a bow, with a degree of restraint he had given up on with the rest of Fourth Division.
"I assume from the wreck you have reduced my Seventh Seat to that you are adamant about seeing Ayasegawa- san?" Unohana was one of very few people in Seireitei who could make an Eleventh Division Shinigami feel bad about starting a fight, and it was working on Ikkaku now. He blushed faintly and muttered an unrepentant apology to the quivering mess of Shinigami hiding behind the door.
"I will let you see him, briefly, if you will stop terrorising my Division and rest as you should be when we return."
"Fine." Ikkaku answered quickly, impatient to get going. He'd worry about the difficult task of not mistreating the Fourth Division after he saw Yumichika.
Unohana led him down the corridor, away from the more bustling corridors to a quiet area usually reserved for the more serious patients. The silence made Ikkaku nervous; it was oppressive.
Unohana finally stopped at the last door on the corridor. She opened it, but paused with her hand still resting on the handle, and turned to face Ikkaku.
"Before we go in I must make sure you understand the extent of Ayasegawa- san's injuries."
"I've already been told." Ikkaku answered, anxious to see Yumichika and decide for himself what the damage was. Fourth Division and Eleventh Division had very different ideas about what 'injured' meant. "Serious, almost fatal, but currently stable. Not to put too fine a point on it, Unohana- taichou, but that said by a member of Fourth Division means something entirely different for Eleventh Division."
"I am sorry to say," and indeed, her face had grown melancholy, "that it means the same in both cases, even for a battle Division like Eleventh."
"What do you mean taichou?" Her expression made Ikkaku nervous. Unohana was known for being calm and composed; for something to disturb her like this it had to be bad. "It cannot be as bad as you are making it out to be." There was too much hope in that statement; it needed quashing.
"His condition is very serious, Madarame- san, and contrary to what my Division may have told you, there is still no certainty as to whether he will pull through or not." The truth, in all its baldness; Ikkaku almost laughed at the irony. "Most of the injuries he suffered have already been mended. However, he sustained severe damage to his abdomen, including his stomach and lungs; as a result, he is still too weak to breathe for himself; he is being given aid in that respect, at least for the time being."
"He can't breathe for himself?" Ikkaku echoed, staring at her. That was bad, very bad; if the numerous injuries she hinted at weren't bad enough. He watched her face as he processed the information. Something was wrong.
"That's not it, is it." It wasn't a question. The melancholy had returned and she nodded after a moment.
"He has been badly scarred, Madarame- san."
Ikkaku snorted, despite the severity of the situation. Yumichika wasn't going to like that. The narcissistic little bastard would be commiserating for years if even a tiny scratch of that scarring was to his face.
Unohana's expression cut off his humour. "I think you had better see for yourself; but I warn you, Madarame- san, it may be quite distressing."
"For him or for me?" He asked with a grim look, taking her cue that this was not something he would be teasing Yumichika about later on. She didn't answer, but he figured he already knew.
The room was dim, curtains pulled across the one large window to keep the sun from disturbing the occupant. It was a futile gesture really; Yumichika wasn't going to wake up anytime today at least. A single bed stood against the back wall, under the window. Machines stood at the bedside, trailing tubes and wires, humming gently as they aided the wounded man. In the low light, Ikkaku could just make out the vague form of his friend beyond the wires, pale as the sheets of the bed, an oxygen mask in place to assist him where he could not aid himself.
Ikkaku approached cautiously. Something about that still, white shape unnerved him. Yumichika was colour and movement and noise. This couldn't possibly be him. Not reduced to this.
Two steps from the bedside, the full extent of Yumichika's injuries became clear. The colour drained from his face, until it was as pale as Yumichika's; at least, as pale as the unspoiled side of Yumichika's face. The right side was burned with lines of blood, mapping a series of intersecting scores, which extended underneath the mask Yumichika wore. Ikkaku followed the network of scabbed scars as they wove down Yumichika's neck and disappeared into bandages bound to the shoulder of his right arm.
And there a horrific scene got worse. The bandaged limb stopped just short of the wrist, an empty space where the right hand should have been, where Yumichika's sword hand should have been.
Ikkaku took an involuntary step back, gasping in air when he realised he had not taken a breath. Unohana stood behind him, gauging his reaction. He turned on her.
"That's what you meant?" he growled, instinctively reacting in anger, however misplaced. "You said scarring, not mutilation!"
"I told you he had suffered extensive scarring," Unohana reiterated calmly, not batting an eyelid at his harsh tone, "which includes the loss of his right hand and irreparable damage to the right eye."
He forgot to breathe again, too dazed by the latest revelation to berate her for withholding the extent of Yumichika's injuries. "Irreparable?" he whispered, horror overtaking his face. "He's blind?"
She waited a moment to let the revelation sink in, then nodded. "I did warn you that this would be quite distressing."
This was his fault. He'd spoken with his assigned healer (not the Seventh Seat he'd reduced to a wibbling mass) as soon as he'd woken up. He knew that all this had happened after the Espada had taken him out. That made it his fault. As the strongest, with Hitsugaya down and despite Rangiku's higher rank, it was his responsibility to look after the others. He had failed, and Yumichika had paid an appalling price.
"You were unconscious, Madarame- san." Unohana could read his face far too easily. "What could you have done?"
"I shouldn't have gotten caught. I should have been the one to do it, to try and free them from that bastard Espada. It wouldn't have mattered so much if that-" he gestured at Yumichika, trying to ignore the flinch that jolted him when he looked at the space where the right hand should have been, "happened to me; I'm used to getting torn up."
"Even though your zanpakuto's shikai is a two handed weapon?" Unohana asked quietly.
"I would manage." Ikkaku brushed her off. "I could've found a way to deal with it. But this... "
He trailed off, as the depth of the problem hit home.
"If the injuries don't kill him, the scars will."
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