Summary: Ikkaku mourns
AN: This was a very difficult chapter for me to write. I have tried my very hardest to put myself in Ikkaku's shoes and imagine what he would feel when faced with this kind of situation. I hope I've done him justice.
Just outside of Zaraki's office, Ikkaku's heart had stopped, then pounded achingly in his chest. When the messenger bumped into him in the hall and gave him his apologies, Ikkaku had stopped breathing. His breath hadn't caught in his throat or anything, it had simply stopped. Those short seconds had stretched endlessly in Ikkaku's mind. When he saw the orange fabric in Ichigo's hand everything stopped. Ichigo had babbled something, Ikkaku had heard what the kid had said but nothing sunk in until the words I'm sorry. Now he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. Walking back to his room, Ikkaku felt completely numb. Somehow, his legs moved mechanically towards his room and his hand clung fiercely to the orange collar and when he got to the door, he figured out how to unlock it and step inside. Then the door clicked closed and Ikkaku lost all strength in his legs. With his back slumped against the wall, he slid to the ground.
"Hōzukimaru," Ikkaku whispered. "Is it true? Have I lost him?"
There was no hesitation in the reply, no sense of sympathy: Hōzukimaru delivered the answer with frank brutality.
"Yes."
One word. Just one word and everything began to crumble. The entire world seemed to be shattering into small pieces and caving in on him. Ikkaku was used to pain. In his afterlife, he had endured more than his share of injuries. He had been cut, sliced, stabbed and jabbed. He had been battered, bruised and beaten unconscious. He had felt the full brunt of some of the most dangerous kidou spells and stood up to the most terrifying reiatsu in Soul Society. He had been close to death more times than he could even remember but never had he felt pain like this. It wasn't crushing or breaking or burning or tearing or bursting or even cutting. It was everything and everywhere all at the same time.
I've lost him, Ikkaku thought. Yumichika. My Yumi. I've lost him.
Shutting his eyes tightly, Ikkaku went to bury his face in his hands. Something thick and soft brushed against his face. That's right, he was holding Yumichika's collar. It smelled of dirt and sweat and blood but if he inhaled deeply with the cloth pressed against his nose, Yumichika's scent still lingered; the sweetest scent in the world. What was that smell? Ikkaku had never thought to analyze it before. It wasn't floral or fruity, nor was it spicy or musky. It was… fresh. It was like the air after precipitation, like a wide open meadow, like newly washed sheets that have been hung out to dry beneath the warm summer sun. How long before that scent faded? Maybe he could do that time freezing bubble thing. But he sucked with kidou. Maybe he'd ask Kira. He knew a lot about that kind of crap.
FUCK! How could this be happening and what the hell was going on with him. In the face of bad news he would usually be kicking the shit out of anyone who dared cross his line of sight! He shouldn't be sitting in his room, wallowing in his own misery. He should be out getting shit faced drunk. Maybe then he would wake up in the morning with a killer hangover and if he was lucky Yumichika scolding him while bringing him cool drinks to keep him hydrated. Maybe it was all a bad bad dream.
Even as he thought it, Ikkaku knew there was no escaping this. Not even his beloved sake could save him now. That's why he was sitting here in his room, clinging to piece of fabric and feeling like his insides were being crushed.
It wasn't supposed to be like this! It was never supposed to be like this. Yumichika was the one who watched him fight. He was the silent strength that had kept Ikkaku alive all these years. Ikkaku was sure he would have found death easily if it hadn't been for that man. Even warriors need a reason to fight. Ikkaku's eventual goal might have been to die under Kenpachi's command but… Yumichika used to say Ikkaku lived from fight to fight and centuries ago he would have been right but somewhere along the way he had found a beautiful, amazing man to share every day with and suddenly waiting for the next fight didn't make him restless anymore.
I guess he finally got what he wanted, Kenpachi had said.
Every member of the 11th Division wanted to die in battle and Yumichika, despite his differences was undoubtedly a man of the 11th and a skilled man of the 11th, so there was no way Ikkaku would believe that he was defeated by a mere hollow. Not unless… not unless he went into the fight looking for death.
He was really sad when he left, Yachiru had said.
That was a brutal argument for sure but could it really have pushed Yumichika to this? Sure Ikkaku had hurled some harsh thing out there but Yumichika hadn't exactly stood there and taken it. Yumichika knew a hell of a lot better than to listen to Ikkaku when he was pissed. Ikkaku always blurted out idiotic things. He pushed buttons he knew should be left alone but in his fury, Ikkaku didn't pay much heed to the warnings in his head or even the glares that followed. The whole sword thing had caught him off guard and the fact that Yumichika had been so defiant about it had taken his rage to a whole new level. He had said anything he could to wipe that snide look off of Yumichika's face, he had attacked everything that he knew Yumichika took pride in…
"You ugly bastard."
The minute it left his mouth Ikkaku wished he could take it back. Yumichika flinched like he had just been hit and Ikkaku felt a pang of guilt but he was still pissed so he turned away.
"You brute!" Yumichika shrieked behind him. "You wouldn't recognize beauty if it slapped you in the face."
A hand on Ikkaku's elbow spun him back around but before he could open his mouth another hand connected hard with his left cheek.
"Oww! What the fuck, Yumi?"
"See! Ungrateful bastard. As if you could find someone else who is as beautiful as me and will put up with you day by day."
"You think you could find someone who will put up with your shit every day?"
"You do!"
"Because you're a good fuck. Oww! Stop hitting me!"
"You PIG! How dare you insinuate the only reason you're with me is because I'm fantastic in bed."
"I'm not insinuating anything. I'm telling you how it is. That and I used to think you were a good fighter."
What was he so pissed about in the first place? So Yumichika's sword was a kidou type, what the hell did that matter? It wasn't like Yumichika chose it that way. No one had any damn say in the swords abilities, they just had to deal with what they got. The fact that Yumichika somehow managed to use a partial release and be so efficient and powerful with it was impressive enough but Ru'iro Kujaku's true release was devastatingly powerful and efficient. So was Ikkaku upset with the sword or with the lie?
When he found out that Yumichika had been keeping such a huge secret from him, Ikkaku, on the one hand, sort of understood why Yumichika would want to keep it from the rest of the Division. Yumichika had to face enough adversity as it was looking and acting the way he did. Ikkaku was proud of him though, for staying true to himself and holding his chin up despite it all. Although no one would dare whisper about Yumichika in his presence, it didn't mean that Ikkaku hadn't overheard. Of course Ikkaku wanted to rearrange their faces but Yumichika was a man with pride. He didn't need Ikkaku to defend his honour. It did however give Ikkaku plenty of fuel during training, not that he would ever admit to it.
Still, for Yumichika to keep such an enormous secret from him was something entirely different. He had thought that they shared everything and for Yumichika to lie to him for so long… well, there was no other way around it. It hurt. Yumichika either didn't trust him to keep the secret or he had no faith in him.
They often joked about Yumichika being the brain and Ikkaku being the brawn. He knew he wasn't the smartest man and it had never bothered him before. He held no resentment to the fact that Yumichika outshone him intellectually. Back in the academy, Ikkaku would never have passed had it not been for Yumichika's "tutoring," if copying over his friend's shoulder could even be called that. When it came to paperwork and planning a battle attack, Yumichika was the man to ask. Ikkaku was the one who ran in head first, brandishing his sword and slicing down the few who stuck around to face him. That was the way it was and it worked well for them.
Ikkaku was known as the fearsome 3rd seat of the 11th Division. He had never needed brains and he was proud of his gruff reputation. He never cared that people would sometimes make allusions to his not quite so sharp nature. He might bash their faces in for their insolence but he really couldn't blame them either. He was well aware that he lacked in that department and that was ok, he had never really wanted to be any other way.
Until that night, when he had wished he had been smarter so he could have figured it out before, so he wouldn't feel so suddenly foreign to the man he thought of as his other half. Yumichika's defiance that night felt like salt rubbing into the wound. Yumichika didn't seem to have any regrets about lying to his lover for so long. Ikkaku had never felt stupid before, but he had felt like an idiot that night. No matter how many ways he had tried to look at it, every time Yumichika had snapped back at his admonishments, it felt like beneath the defensive words Yumichika was saying, "You're so stupid, Ikkaku. Look how long I've lied to you and you've never even noticed. I can't be blamed for your lack of intelligence."
Had Yumichika really thought so little of him? What did it matter now? In the end, it turned out that Yumichika was right. A few defensive words and Ikkaku had turned vicious, aiming for the spots he knew hurt Yumichika the most. There hadn't been a single logical thought in his mind that night, everything just blurted forth from the anger and the pain he would never admit he felt.
Could he admit it now? Even to himself? He had never really deserved Yumichika in the first place. He wasn't beautiful, classy, cultured or any of that other stuff Yumichika was. Everyone had always wondered why Yumichika would choose such a brute like him and none more than Ikkaku himself but actions spoke louder than words for Ikkaku and Yumichika chose him. There was no doubt that Yumichika deserved better, he deserved everything in the world and if Ikkaku weren't quite so selfish, maybe Yumichika could have gotten it.
Yumichika had a taste for the finer things in life. That was a given but so was the fact that he had settled when it came to his lover. It wasn't to say that Ikkaku wouldn't have done anything to make Yumi happy but the truth of the matter was that Yumichika could have gotten any man he wanted. It wouldn't have been easy considering Ikkaku had threatened any man that lay a finger on him and had pummeled the few that were too persistent or too stupid to take heed of the warnings but it wouldn't have been impossible. Despite all the crap he had to put up with, all their differences and all of his flaws, Yumichika had chosen Ikkaku.
"You're home!" Yumichika squealed, launching himself across the room.
The smile on Yumi's face and the sparkle in his eyes made Ikkaku's breath catch momentarily. Then, suddenly, he found himself with his arms full of the warm, familiar body.
"Where are my presents?" Yumichika demanded giddily.
"Presents?" Ikkaku asked.
Yumichika's eyes hardened immediately, "Madarame Ikkaku, if you forgot my birthday then you can walk right back out of here right now!"
"I didn't forget, idiot!" Ikkaku chuckled, "You said you didn't want presents. All you wanted was me home for your birthday."
"You didn't get me anything?" Yumichika gasped. His shoulders drooped and his lip pushed out into a pretty pout. "You're so thick, Ikkaku. Of course I wanted presents! No one says that and actually means it."
Yumichika turned to walk away but Ikkaku's arm snaked around his waist, pulling him back against his chest.
"Such a drama queen," he smirked, holding up a bundle wrapped in blue fabric.
Within a matter of minutes, all the contents of the bundle were laid out on the futon; a jade hanko with ink pad, a new paper fan and a box of warashi, almost too beautiful to eat. Launching himself in Ikkaku's arms again, Yumichika covered the bald man with gentle kisses.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"I thought you would like 'em," Ikkaku smiled.
"Thank you, for coming home today," Yumichika clarified.
"You thought I would miss it?"
"No, I knew you would come."
"I love you," Ikkaku said.
Yumichika gasped softly. It was no wonder, Ikkaku rarely ever said it first. Sometimes he would go months without saying the actual words. Watching Yumichika's eyes twinkle and the soft smile grace his delicate lips, Ikkaku wondered why he didn't say it more often. This was why he loved this man, because no one else looked at him like he was the entire world, no one else loved him like he was flawless and no one could stake their claim to beauty quite like Yumichika and be so absolutely right. How had he been so lucky to call this man his own?
How had he lost him? How had he been so stupid that he lost his Yumi. He would never that smile again. He would never feel the tingle as he watched Yumichika's beautiful violet eyes glow with love and admiration for him, only him. He should have told him. He would… what was this?
Large, heavy drops were sliding down his cheeks. He was crying. The mighty Madarame Ikkaku was crying. The tears were flowing freely and he was completely powerless to stop them. Ikkaku didn't cry. He was furious at himself. He yanked his sleeves over his eyes again and again to wipe them away but fresh tears replaced the last immediately. With a howl of resignation, he hurled the closest thing to him, Hōzukimaru, across the room. Ikkaku expected to hear his zanpakuto's infuriated protest but there was not a sound other than the shattering glass of the broken mirror and the dull thud as Hōzukimaru hit the ground. Understanding immediately, Ikkaku uttered a silent word of thanks to his sword who thought better of reproaching him when he was already in such turmoil.
"Pachinko-chan!" Yachiru's voice sing songed into the room.
Ikkaku didn't even bother to turn away. He just sat there amongst his tears as she walked in and stopped beside him. She looked at the shattered mirror and the broken warrior crumpled on the floor and her innocent expression seemed to mature suddenly. She placed her little hand on his shoulder.
"It'll be ok, Ikkaku-san," She said.
She had never called him by his name before and for some reason the seriousness of the situation hit him so much harder because of it. Dropping his head, new tears sprung forth from his eyes, his shoulders shook and he allowed himself to wallow in the hell he had created for himself. Yachiru put her arms around him and held him until he fell asleep. Then, with her inexplicable strength, carried him to his futon and tucked him in.
AN: I added Yachiru in at the end to remove some of the oppressive thoughts. I don't particularily like her because she's brat but, I think, she would have handled this situation the way I wrote it. I would probably like her if she was just a wee bit disciplined so I'm probably not writing her in character.
Hanko are name stamps that can be made of wood, plastic, ivory, stone or jade.
Warashi are dainty little Japanese tea cakes used in the Japanese tea ceremony. They are made of white bean paste and are usually shaped like flowers. Google them. So pretty.