Chapter 4 The Trade
"I was lost on the far side of that mountain.
Did you try to find me?
I was left on your doorstep one gray morning.
No, you never had to buy me."
Heart of Steel
Justin Hayward
Ikkaku mopped the sweat from his brow. As if last summer had not been sweltering enough, this summer was even worse. In fact, the heat had driven him back to Mito much sooner than he'd planned. He'd only been gone for ten days, and he'd intended this sojourn to be at least two or three weeks.
After living on and off at Yumichika's home for almost a year, he'd settled in quite comfortably. He had continued his adventures into the surrounding area; and taking Yumichika into consideration, he did his best to say how long he would be gone and made every effort to return on time.
He had given Yumichika little reason to berate him; and in return, Yumichika had grown even more accommodating. They had come to a fairly peaceful coexistence, punctuated by bouts of verbal jousting and the occasional physical contest, which Ikkaku always won unless Yumichika unleashed his seductive capabilities, which he did not do often – not against Ikkaku, at least. However, Ikkaku was quite confident that he used those powers against the other villagers. It was the one area of greatest contention between them. Ikkaku hated Yumichika's ability, and he hated it even more when he used it. He could no longer deny its existence, not after seeing it in action. It made him uneasy, but he could not stop Yumichika from using it. And its existence was not enough to keep him away from the comfort and companionship Yumichika offered.
The sun dropped below the horizon, and at last the temperature eased to a comfortable warmth. It would make the last two hours of his journey tolerable. He pushed on until at last he could see the lights of Mito.
He had come along the shore road, and as he neared the first of the hutches, he suddenly felt a longing, a deep desire to be in Yumichika's presence: to enjoy the coolness of the garden, the comfort of a real bed, the simple goodness of the meals Yumichika prepared, but most of all, the pleasure of Yumichika's attention.
Every step increased the desire until it was like a flame consuming his every thought. And then he heard it: a sound he had heard before, a gentle humming and wordless melody. It was coming from the direction of the hutches, and Ikkaku recognized it immediately. He followed one of the walkways out into the darkness of the moss-covered trees, and then, quite unexpectedly, a light caught his eye. It looked like a single lamp glowing hazily near the last of the hutches, close to the open sea. Ikkaku followed the light and the sounds of intermittent humming and now occasional singing. The full moon cast a light through the openings in the trees and into a small water glen, and there, swimming languidly was Yumichika. He was alone, singing to himself and clearly relishing the moment.
Ikkaku's first instinct, as usual, was that this was dangerous. Who knew what else was swimming in that water? But as he watched, his thoughts changed. The idea of danger and caution gave way to freedom and abandon. Yumichika seemed very happy at that moment, and Ikkaku felt himself settling into a more comfortable position as a voyeur.
He observed that Yumichika swam very well – seemed utterly natural and at home in the water. And the way he laughed and smiled to himself was beguiling. When he finally climbed out of the water onto one of the walkways, the dappled moonlight reflected in the droplets of water on his skin. Ikkaku had seen him naked before, and his opinion never changed: Yumichika was too thin and not muscular enough. But he was pleasant to look at, as far as such things went.
As he stood wringing the water out of his hair, it was almost as if he were performing, as if he knew he was being watched. He then sat down on the walkway and lay back, propping one knee up, his arms resting at his sides. He looked like a sculpture of finest marble – tempting enough to entice even the most jaded observer.
It was then that Ikkaku felt the presence of another person. Someone else was watching. He sank deeper into the reeds, desperate not to be seen yet hoping to catch sight of whomever else was there. But he saw nothing and heard nothing except for Yumichika. Eventually, the sensation of another soul faded away. At length, when he felt he could move undetected, he stepped back along the walkway but continued watching from a distance, still worried for Yumichika's safety. Another thirty minutes passed, then Yumichika stood up, put on his kimono, and started walking back to the shore.
Ikkaku, feeling things were now safe, raced on ahead of him. He reached the machiya well before Yumichika arrived and was able to assume a pretense of long waiting.
As Yumichika entered the garden, Ikkaku stood up from where he had been sitting on the porch.
"Madarame-san!" Yumichika greeted him with a broad smile. "You're back again!"
"And again I have to wait," Ikkaku groused. "You're never here."
"That's because I never know when you'll be returning, and I have things to do," Yumichika replied, but his voice belied a certain sly knowledge.
Ikkaku waved off this explanation. "Can we go inside? I'm starving."
Once inside, Yumichika went first to the wardrobe, where he selected a dark green kimono and traded it for the damp one he was wearing, placing the latter out on the washporch to dry. Then he set about preparing a meal.
"Where did you go this time?" he asked.
"South," Ikkaku replied. "The other side of the Ulandsee."
Yumichika looked up in alarm. "You didn't go to Fastuca, did you?"
"I might have—"
"Ikkaku!" he fretted. "After what happened last time, you know I don't want you going there!"
"Relax," Ikkaku said. "I didn't go into the town, just the outskirts."
Yumichika was not pacified. "I've asked you to stay away from there altogether."
But if Yumichika were being hard-headed, so was Ikkaku.
"I went to visit the Sisters. But forget about where I go. I want to know where you go every night. You're never here when I come back, and when I am here, you're out all hours on business," Ikkaku retorted. "What do you get up to at night, Yumichika?"
A smile formed slowly on Yumichika's face. "If you're so worried about what I do at night, why didn't you join me?"
"Join you?"
"In the water."
Ikkaku felt his throat tighten. "What are you talking about?"
Yumichika rolled his eyes. "I've told you before . . . your riatsu is hard to miss."
Ikkaku felt like a fool, and that feeling made him angry. "You bastard," he ground out.
Yumichika chuckled.
"Oh, you think this is funny?" Ikkaku spat.
Yumichika shrugged. "A little bit, maybe."
"You could have told me you knew I was there," Ikkaku accused.
"You could have told me you were there instead of spying on me."
"I wasn't spying on you!"
"What else would you call it?"
Ikkaku was too flustered to find a clever answer. "So, that whole thing – you put on that little show because you knew I was there?"
"Well, not exactly," Yumichika replied.
"Not exactly? What the hell does that mean?" Ikkaku challenged, then he recalled the sensation of someone else's presence. "You—you knew someone else besides me was watching?"
Yumichika set a plate of dried fish and figs on the table and turned back to start the rice. "Someone always is. It's part of the whole fascination with me."
Ikkaku's jaw dropped. "Yumichika, what's the matter with you? That's—that's crazy! That's dangerous and . . . it's not . . . it's not decent. You're out of your mind."
Yumichika faced Ikkaku and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Decent? This coming from a man who fights for the thrill of it. That's not decent, and it's dangerous. I'm being lectured on moral behavior by a barbarian—"
In the next moment, he found himself in a headlock.
"Be careful what you say," Ikkaku warned playfully. "You won't always be able to use that little trance of yours to get you out of trouble."
Yumichika was having too much fun to even try.
"And don't think you can insult me with impunity," Ikkaku went on. "You once accused me of having no manners. Well, that's better than having bad manners."
"Okay, okay," Yumichika conceded. "I'm sorry. Now, let me go."
"Not until you tell me why you didn't acknowledge that I was there. Why do you want to make a fool out of me?" Ikkaku demanded.
"I wasn't trying to make a fool out of you," Yumichika replied. His next words startled Ikkaku. "I wanted you to stop hiding and come join me. Would it have been that hard?"
Ikkaku released him, and Yumichika straightened up, regarding him earnestly.
"Anyone can leer at me from the shadows, but you're different. I thought you were brave enough to come out and go for a swim, too. Can't we do things like that together?"
It was an odd question, yet Ikkaku knew it was meant in pure, open innocence. Yumichika was used to being ogled, and perhaps that was part of the problem – he was the recipient of no genuine affection.
"I guess so," Ikkaku mumbled. "But I'm still pissed off that you didn't tell me. Just how well are you able to sense my presence anyway?"
"I can tell when you're near, as long as I'm not focused on something else." Yumichika paused. "It helped that I happened to be thinking about you at that moment."
Ikkaku's alarm went off again. "Thinking about me? Why?"
Yumichika put some water on for tea. "I was wondering when you were coming back." He hunched his shoulders self-consciously. "I missed you, if you can believe that."
Ikkaku swallowed. "Yumichika . . . I warned you not to get attached to me."
"You're attached to me," Yumichika returned as a justification of sorts.
"There's a big difference" Ikkaku insisted.
"Oh? How so?"
"I know you'll always be here. You're never going away." Ikkaku paused. "I may leave one day and never come back."
"Of course, you'll come back." He smiled. '"You can't stay away."
"I may get hurt or killed. Or I may find somewhere else I'd rather stay."
Yumichika was still smiling. "If you don't come back, I'll go look for you like I did last time."
"That's what I'm talking about. That's what I don't want. I don't like those kinds of attachments," Ikkaku objected.
"Well, it's too late," Yumichika replied. He pushed the fish and figs across the table. "Eat some more and stop worrying about me. I can take care of myself. I make my own decisions."
Maybe that was true. Maybe Yumichika needed no one to look out for his best interests. Still, it seemed to Ikkaku that his host had a blind spot when it came to the risks involved in his own activities.
But Ikkaku was not blind, although sometimes he wished he were. There were things he would rather not see.
"You're not really going, are you?" Ikkaku's voice was a mixture of disappointment and scoffing. It was the following evening, and he was lounging on the floor where he normally slept.
Yumichika pulled himself away from the mirror and his primping long enough to cast an amiable grin in Ikkaku's direction. "I've already told you, you don't have to come. In fact, it'd be better if you didn't. You'll only end up getting into a fight." He paused and added wryly. "Besides, I might decide to dance, and that would make you furious."
"If I'm there, you won't dance. I'd see to that."
"That would ruin everyone's fun," Yumichika said with a wave of his hand. "Better you stay here."
That was all Ikkaku needed. "I'm going," he decided.
Yumichika smiled to himself. Ikkaku was predictable enough, and Yumichika had gotten what he'd wanted all along: Ikkaku's company. He knew Ikkaku would never willingly go to a village festival, and so he had to resort to mind games to lure him. And the truth was, Yumichika didn't really fear a violent outburst, for Ikkaku had shown incredible restraint ever since Fastuca.
"If you're sure," he put forth. "I don't want to force you."
"You can't force me to do anything," Ikkaku said. "But if I see you doing anything stupid, I'm going to stop it."
Yumichika was not going to argue. "Very well, but if you feel you must stop me, then at least do it discreetly."
"No promises," Ikkaku replied. "It's better if you just don't do anything stupid. Now, let's go. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave."
Yumichika eyed him with disdain. "You're not wearing that, are you?"
"Yes, I am. It will do just fine."
There was no chance for further protest. Ikkaku ushered him out the door.
The gathering was in the village market place, one side of which was a grassy square decorated in garlands and colored lanterns.
A first glance showed that almost the entire village had come out. Spirits were high, and a sense of genial camaraderie prevailed.
Yumichika and Ikkaku passed through the crowd, Ikkaku looking for the nearest sake vendor, Yumichika greeting everyone with a demur sweetness that was in complete contrast to his self-absorbed arrogance. But this was something Ikkaku had come to expect. He had recognized months ago that Yumichika was a strange combination of contradictory impulses. There was no sense in trying to figure him out, and any attempt to do so only left Ikkaku feeling more confused and frustrated than before. It was easier to accept him with all his quirks, just as Yumichika accepted him.
"Yumichika-san, you must dance with me!" A young girl, no more than twelve or thirteen years old, suddenly emerged from the milling throng and implored with large, pleading eyes.
Yumichika smiled down at her. "Of course, I will," he consented, and allowed himself to be pulled out onto the green.
Ikkaku was relieved to see that there were many dancers, men and women and children, and that the music, once started, had a traditional aspect to it. There would be no erotic or seductive performances here.
All the dancers did the same slow, measured movements. The little girl seemed anxious to show her partner how good she was. And she was good, if a bit lacking in the grace and fluidity of the older, more experienced dancers.
Yumichika paid her every attention, gently correcting any deficiencies, and nodding his approval at the well-executed moves. And yet, somehow, he still managed to be the center of attention. His participation in the dance cast all the others in shadow. He was elegant and beautiful, and every expression that crossed his face spoke of serenity and confidence.
When the dance was over, before Yumichika could return to Ikkaku, he was approached by Hinsamoi, Youni and Yori, the orchard tender. Ikkaku watched as the four men laughed and chatted. He could not make out their words, but that didn't matter. The body language was indication enough.
Yumichika was up to his usual display of flounce and false modesty. The other three appeared to be in competition for who could command the most of his attention.
It was infuriating to Ikkaku that Yumichika would indulge such attentions – even return them.
And then it happened.
Yumichika turned his eye slowly to where Ikkaku stood and regarded him only for a few seconds but with an expression calculated as a challenge. Yumichika knew Ikkaku hated his flirtatious manner, hated his degree of intimacy with the other men in the village, hated his willful ignoring of Ikkaku's warning and demands. But here he was, flaunting his disregard and employing just the slightest bit of his seductive ability to show his defiance and egg Ikkaku on.
Maybe it shouldn't have bothered Ikkaku, but it did – greatly. For months Yumichika had comported himself in such a manner as not to provoke Ikkaku, but it seemed that such restraint had been too great a burden, or that Yumichika needed to reassert his ability to seduce and entrap. It could have been that the two of them had grown too comfortable with each other, giving Yumichika the idea that he could play the same games with Ikkaku that he played with the others. Based on their conversation the night before, it seemed that was the case.
But Ikkaku would not fall into the trap. He would not play this game. He waited until Yumichika turned away and then he left the green.
Yumichika noticed immediately that Ikkaku had left. As he stood with his three companions, he felt a brief flair of Ikkaku's riatsu and turned just in time to see the back of his retreating head. He looked back to his friends. "Will you excuse me?"
"Are you going after Madarame?" Yori asked.
"I must," Yumichika replied. "He's upset about something—"
"He's always upset about something," Hinsamoi cut him off. "He probably got angry at you for talking to us."
"That may be true, but I still can't let him go off angry," Yumichika insisted.
"If you ask me, you spend way too much time worrying about him and catering to his every whim. Every time he has a fit, you run after him," Hinsamoi went on.
Yumichika simply smiled. "I guess that's my problem." With that, he left and headed in the direction Ikkaku had taken. He figured he had gone back to the house, and upon arriving, his intuition proved him right.
Ikkaku was there, stuffing food into his sack. He did not acknowledge Yumichika's arrival.
"What are you doing?'' Yumichika asked. "Besides emptying my cupboards?"
"I'm leaving," came the terse reply.
"But you just got back yesterday," Yumichika intoned. "Why are you leaving so soon?"
Ikkaku continued filling the sack. "You love to bait me, but I'm sick of it."
Yumichika protested. "I'm not baiting you. Maybe I like to be a little playful—"
"Be playful with one of your other friends. They seem to like it," Ikkaku snapped. "I'm leaving." He threw a few pieces of the clothing Yumichika had made for him into the bag and headed for the door.
"Are you coming back?" Yumichika asked, sounding anxious.
Ikkaku was snide. "Of course, I am. I can't stay away, remember?"
As Ikkaku took his first step out the door, Yumichika spoke with perhaps more feeling than he'd ever intended to show. "I don't want you to go."
Ikkaku did not even look at him. "Remember that the next time you want to be playful." With that, he left and Yumichika was alone.
Several seconds passed during which Yumichika stood unmoving in in the middle of the room. He recalled his excitement the day before. Ikkaku's return had seemed like the end of a long drought, even though he had been gone less than two weeks. Yumichika had looked forward with eager anticipation to the contentious interaction that marked their relationship. He had beamed at the return of someone who made only the simplest of demands.
Now, that someone had taken off in anger, and Yumichika, despite his own self-assurances, was not convinced he would return this time. That thought felt like a stone around his neck, and he could not abide it. He cared enough about Ikkaku to try to stop him, to acquiesce and admit his own wrong-doing. He hurried out the door, but as he crossed the garden, it was not Ikkaku he encountered but Hinsamoi.
"Hinsamoi-san." Yumichika tried to hide his impatience. "You came away from the festival for me?"
"I came to talk to you," Hinsamoi replied, and his manner was serious. "Where were you going?"
Yumichika hesitated, then told the truth. "I was going to look for Madarame-san. He left, and I—well, it was my own fault."
"Let him go," Hinsamoi stated bluntly. "If he doesn't recognize what a good thing he's got here, then let him go."
Yumichika shook his head. "I can't. I did something I knew he wouldn't like, and I have to apologize." He started to usher Hinsamoi towards the entrance into the alley, but Hinsamoi took firm hold of his arm.
"Let him go, Yumichika-san," he insisted in a voice that was without humor or compromise. "He'll be back. I guarantee it. He won't pass up what he's got here, not when he's getting it all for free."
Something about Hinsamoi's words made Yumichika angry, and although he maintained his calm, gentle demeanor, his words were less than kind. "You've never passed it up. Why should Ikkaku be any different from you?"
Hinsamoi's arm shot out, and before either he or Yumichika realized what was happening, he struck Yumichika across the face.
Yumichika raised a hand to his cheek and felt the warmth and sting. He was too shocked for words. He'd always considered Hinsamoi to be completely safe – one of the enraptured. So, how could this have happened? He looked up at Hinsamoi, expecting to see remorse or at least surprise. Instead, he saw a gleam in the man's eye that frightened him.
"Let's go back to the festival," Hinsamoi ordered, and Yumichika did not even think of opposing him. He'd been so shaken that he could not muster the presence of mind to use his powers of persuasion.
He accompanied Hinsamoi back to the festival.
"What the hell is the matter with him? Why did he have to act like such an idiot!"
Ikkaku moved in a clipped, irritated gait along the shore road. He had felt anger with Yumichika before, but nothing to compare to this. The other foolish things Yumichika had done had been simply ignorant, but this had been calculated provocation. It was inconceivable. They had been getting along very well, to the point where Ikkaku had been willing to admit to himself that he had actually grown fond of Yumichika, despite his own best efforts to remain aloof, and despite Yumichika's silly games. Ikkaku could easily say it had been the happiest year of his life since coming to Soul Society – perhaps the happiest ever.
And then Yumichika had to go and do something so stupid, so self-centered, that it effectively undid all the joy of the past twelve months. The attempt to get a rise out of Ikkaku had been bad in and of itself, but even worse was that it showed Ikkaku what Yumichika really thought of him. Yumichika apparently considered Ikkaku to be just another one of the many admirers who could not resist his allure, and he had mocked their relationship for nothing more than the thrill of the tease.
"Madarame-san?"
Ikkaku looked to his left and saw Kaekae coming down the pier.
"Ya na'at the festival?" the boatman asked.
"I was," Ikkaku replied. "And now I'm leaving."
Kaekae smiled knowingly. "Wha'd he do this time?"
"He did something he knows I hate," Ikkaku replied, "And he flaunted it in front of me."
Kaekae raised a curious eyebrow.
Ikkaku went on. "He . . . he flirts with everyone – men and women. And it drives me crazy. He doesn't realize how dangerous it is. And how . . . how cheap it is."
Kaekae was silent.
"Do you think I'm acting like an idiot?" Ikkaku asked.
"Oh, I'm na one to say who's an idyit and who's not," Kaekae deferred. "I'm only gon' say that ya two are'n happy 'less ya fightin'. Who'd a thought ya two'd be friends, but I'm glad ya are."
"He has a strange way of treating his friends," Ikkaku glowered.
Kaekae gave a cackling laugh. "You're na one to talk."
Ikkaku could not even muster up any indignation. The old man was right. "I'm still mad at him anyway," he concluded.
"Then go on one o' ya trips," Kaekae said in a way that seemed to Ikkaku to be the permission he'd never requested or even known he'd needed. "Ya canna leave him for good."
Ikkaku was about to take offense at the repeated idea that neither he nor anyone else could withdraw themselves from Yumichika's allure. But Kaekae's next words showed him that the old man had other thoughts on the matter.
"He needs ya."
Ikkaku faltered. "Needs me? Yumichika needs nobody."
"So ya say." Kaekae shrugged but his voice and expression had a knowing inflection. "Go now."
Ikkaku started to leave, but then asked, "Why aren't you at the festival?"
Kaekae was already returning to his hutch. "Cause I hate seein' it, too."
For three days, Yumichika did not venture out of his machiya. Going back to the festival that night had been mortifying enough. He had come home afterwards to discover a red mark that was slowly turning into a bruise on the side of his face. His perfect beauty had been marred, and he was sure everyone at the festival had seen it. But that was not what kept him at home. He did not want to see Hinsamoi, and if he went into the market place, it was a certainty that he would.
Other than Ikkaku's mildly aggressive posturing, no one had ever laid a violent hand on him in his entire existence – not in the world of the living and not in Soul Society. He had no idea how to react to such a thing. Sequestering himself from society was something he'd grown used to in the living world, but then he'd had companionship in his isolation. His family had always been there with him. But here in Soul Society, where he'd become a social creature, avoiding contact with others did not come naturally to him. Yet, he was too distressed to venture out.
So, he kept to himself and focused on his work in an attempt to forget what had happened.
"You can't hide forever."
Yumichika startled.
It was the first time the voice had come to him in his waking hours.
"I—I can hear you," he replied.
"Naturally."
"But I'm awake. I've never heard you when I'm awake – only when I'm asleep."
"You can hear me whenever you want to," the voice replied. "Maybe even when you don't want to."
"But I thought—I thought you were a dream," Yumichika went on.
"You hoped I was a dream," came the gentle correction. "But now you know I'm not."
"Then tell me who you are," Yumichika demanded.
"You're not ready."
"I'm tired of you saying that. I want to know who you are. Sometimes I—I'm not even sure you're real. I think I'm just imagining you," Yumichika lamented.
"You know I'm real. When you're ready, you will bring me forth yourself and see me for what I am."
"Why are you here now?" Yumichika asked, frustrated with the voice's lack of cooperation.
"You were lonely, and you wanted me—"
"I didn't want you," Yumichika protested. "I've never wanted or asked for you. You just show up."
"You wanted the part of me that is able to lull others into doing what you want. You call it beauty. It's much more than that. Even Madarame recognizes it," the voice explained. "You're afraid that you've lost it."
"Madarame? You know about Madarame?" Yumichika asked. "How do you know about things outside me?"
"Don't change the subject," the voice replied. "You're afraid now. I can feel it all through your riatsu."
The petulance left Yumichika's manner. "I don't understand it," he admitted. "How could he hit me? I would never have thought he could do such a thing."
"Could you not see it in his eyes?"
Yumichika felt his spine stiffen.
"So, you did. Then you know . . . " the voice went on. "He did it because he wanted to. He believes he has the right. You are to blame for that. You don't know how to use me properly."
Yumichika clenched his fists. "Use you? I don't even know what you are. How can I use you at all?"
"You use me all the time, only not very well," came the reply. "I'm the most natural part of your soul."
Yumichika was in no mood for mystery. "None of this helps me."
"How should I help you? You don't know what you really want."
"Do you?" Yumichika spat out.
"Yes, of course, I do."
"Then tell me."
"You want everything to be as beautiful as possible, including your relationships. You're upset because things got out of your control—"
"Out of my control? Madarame-san left after less than one day! Hinsamoi hit me, and he's been a long-time faithful customer! That's not just losing control! That's—that's . . . "
"Wondering if you ever had control to begin with?"
Yumichika's head drooped in exhaustion and confusion.
"I told you – it's because you don't know how to use me properly," the voice reiterated.
Yumichika rubbed his temples. "I'm tired of your games. I'm tired of trying to figure out what you're saying. Just tell me what you mean."
There was a bit of soft laughter. "Tired of my games? You love to play games. You don't like this one because you're not winning." A pause. "But that doesn't matter. When are you going to come out of hiding? Do you want to live in fear of that man?"
Yumichika was not sure how to answer.
"If you would use me in the ways I could teach you, you would have nothing to fear from him."
At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Yumichika hesitated. Who would be coming to see him? He was not expecting anyone, and he rarely invited others to his home.
"Are you going to answer it?"
Suddenly, the voice inside him felt like a comfort – a safeguard, even. It made him feel less alone, less vulnerable.
He opened the door. At the sight of Hinsamoi, arms piled high with fabrics, he felt his confidence waver.
The voice was more forceful. "Don't let him in."
Yumichika regarded the merchant with an impassive countenance. "What can I do you for you, Hinsamoi-san?"
"You haven't been by the shop for three days," Hinsamoi replied, assuming a concerned air. "I was worried about you."
Yumichika remained equivocal. "I'm fine."
"I brought these new fabrics by," Hinsamoi went on. "I thought they would suit you."
Yumichika held out his arms. "Thank you."
"I'll bring them inside."
"Don't let him in," the voice cautioned. "He's not here because he's sorry. He's here because he can't stay away."
Yumichika looked at Hinsamoi's gentle, pleasant expression. This was the man he knew. It must have been an aberration the night of the festival. Yumichika still had control. He could prove it now.
"You can set them down over there by the cutting table," he said.
Hinsamoi did so. Yumichika looked through the top few bolts.
"These are nice," he commented.
"I thought you'd like them." Hinsamoi paused, examining Yumichika's face. "I did that to you?"
Yumichika nodded.
"I didn't think—I didn't think you were that fragile," Hinsamoi said, sounding remorseful. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it."
"Why did you?"
"Because I was angry. You made me angry, and . . . . I hate what Madarame is doing to you," Hinsamoi answered.
Yumichika looked puzzled. "What he's doing to me? What do you mean?"
"He's taking so much of your time, and he treats you very badly."
"Taking so much of my time? He's never here," Yumichika protested. "He stays for a few days then goes off to find some excitement."
"That's what I mean," Hinsamoi said. "He comes and goes as he pleases, with no thought for you. And you let him stay even though he gives you nothing."
"Hinsamoi—"
"Or does he give you something?"
Yumichika recognized the change in tone and manner in the last question. It was the same as that which had preceded the episode three nights ago.
This time, he wouldn't be flippant. "He has nothing to give," he replied. "But I don't want to talk about him." His fear drove him to reach down inside and draw on his ability, despite the revulsion he now felt towards Hinsamoi. "I think I know why you got so angry. I have been neglecting our friendship. You miss me, don't you?"
Hinsamoi was taken by the subtle gleam in Yumichika's eyes – the faint wisteria glow that beckoned with the promise of pleasures known and unknown. He reached out and carefully touched the bruised cheek. "I do miss you." An odd expression crept into his features. "This bruise . . . oddly enough, it makes you even more beautiful." He paused. "Tell the truth . . . didn't you feel just a slight twinge of excitement?"
The question mortified Yumichika, but he managed to maintain his demeanor.
"I was stunned," he began, stopping when Hinsamoi drew out a spool of gold-weave thread from the fold of his garment.
The merchant saw Yumichika's eyes widen; it was so easy to entice him with beautiful things.
"Not even a pinprick of excitement?" Hinsamoi held the thread up like a lure in the palm of his hand.
"Are you asking me to make a trade?" Yumichika put forth.
"If you think the price is fair." He leaned closer. "I ordered this especially for you. I knew you would be the one to appreciate it."
"It must have cost you a great deal," Yumichika ventured.
"That's why I have to make it worth the barter," Hinsamoi stated. "You're the only one who has anything that comes close to its value."
"So, it's not an apology," Yumichika said.
"It's that," Hinsamoi replied, "And an invitation to future trades. There's a lot more where this came from. But you have to be agreeable to the conditions."
Yumichika took the thread and turned it over in his hands. "It is beautiful."
Hinsamoi smiled. He'd won.
And somewhere, deep inside Yumichika, a part of him had lost.
It had been a slow journey. Ikkaku had been in no hurry, so after five days of walking around the Ulandsee, he came to Paikuu. He'd chosen the city because he was confident it could quench his thirst for a fight; and with the lingering traces of anger still swirling inside him, he was desperate for a physical contest.
And he knew where to find one.
He recalled precisely the route to Imakao's estate and wasted no time heading there. It was late – almost midnight – when he climbed over the wall and began searching for a way in. There was one person in particular he wanted to find, and while he had no plan where to look, he was willing to go through the whole place room by room to find him.
He resorted to the same method as last time, leaping up onto the ledges and going from window to window, looking for an opening. This time, it did not take him as long as it had the first time. The heat meant many open windows. He selected one that opened onto a small, empty room with doors at both ends. No sooner had he stepped foot on the floor, though, than a man unexpectedly entered the room.
Ikkaku recognized right away that he was a guard. This was an added bonus. Maybe he'd have to fight the entire contingent to get to the one he was looking for.
"Intruder!" the guard shouted, drawing his sword.
Ikkaku drew his sword to parry, but the blow never fell.
Behind the guard, Imakao appeared. Seeing who the intruder was, he put his hand on the guard's wrist. "Stop, Hemlei." Then to Ikkaku, "I recognize you. You were the man who came to take Ayasegawa away that time." He didn't sound worried or even concerned – merely interested and curious.
"That's right," Ikkaku replied.
"So, are you here looking for him? He's not here," Imakao said.
"I was hoping to find that skinny bastard who runs this place," Ikkaku stated, "But you'll do for now."
"I'll do?" For what, may I ask?"
"I need someone to fight," Ikkaku replied. "And I figure you and that pinprick bastard have done enough to hurt Yumichika that you both deserve whatever I feel like giving you."
Imakao turned to Hemlei. "Leave us."
"My Lord, I don't think that's a good idea."
"I'll be fine. Wait outside the door." He waited until the guard was gone, then turned with a grave manner to Ikkaku. "You mentioned Yumichika being hurt? Has something happened to him?"
"Nothing's happened to him," Ikkaku replied. "I'm talking about all the other things you've done to him. You've hurt him by making him—by making him what he is."
Imakao's easy manner returned. "And what is he?"
"You know what I'm talking about," Ikkaku shot back.
"Truly, I have no idea," Imakao replied. "Yumichika is much the same as he ever was. I didn't turn him into anything. And I would never do anything to hurt him. He brings me far too much joy."
"Yeah, I'll bet," Ikkaku seethed. "With erotic dances and—and whatever else you have in mind."
Imakao strode through the door opposite the one the guard had gone through, motioning for Ikkaku to follow. The door led into Imakao's sleeping chamber. He went over to a table in the corner where there was a decanter and some glasses. He poured himself a glass. "Sake?" he offered. Ikkaku refused.
"I have a great many things in mind," he said. "Some of them involve Ayasegawa; some don't. He's a very talented and skilled man."
"I don't like the talents you're making use of," Ikkaku said in a threatening voice.
"That is a matter better discussed between you and Ayasegawa," Imakao shrugged. "But I don't think coming here and picking a fight with me or other members of my household will do you any good."
"It'll make me feel better."
Imakao eyed him with delving perception. "Why do you need to feel better? What's happened that's upset you?"
"That's none of your business—"
"It is, if it lands you here in my private rooms, looking for a fight." He sat down comfortably on a plush chaise, as if he were doing no more than entertaining a caller. "I've known Yumichika-san for many years. I know what he's capable of, and I know what his desires are. I would venture he'd say the same about me. And . . . " He took a long sip of his liquor. "I'd venture that you haven't figured out how to deal with him, and that's why you're angry and frustrated. He can be like that – difficult and infuriating. You may think you can change him, but you'll never win." A pause. "And after a while, you won't want to win. Losing to Ayasegawa has its advantages."
Ikkaku was flabbergasted. He could not even begin to comprehend the meaning of Imakao's words.
Imakao went on. "So, you can stand here and posture, you can fight me, or you can accept the fact that Yumichika has something you need. That's the only reason a man like you would stick around. You should focus on getting as much of that something as you can while it's still available."
"A man like me? What's that supposed to mean? You don't even know me," Ikkaku sneered.
"You're angry. You're violent. You're possessive – at least you were that night. You're the complete opposite of Ayasegawa-san. Yet, you still live with him."
"How do you know I'm still with him?" Ikkaku demanded.
"Ayasegawa told me himself. Didn't you know he still conducts business here once a month? I'm rather surprised you permit it. Or are you afraid that by forbidding him, you may lose him?" Imakao asked.
Ikkaku grit his teeth. "I'm gone most of the time," he said pointedly. "I didn't know he was still coming here."
"Now, you do," Imakao said. "So, what will you do? Lock him up in his own home? He won't stand for that." He leaned back and eyed Ikkaku with an almost challenging expression. "A better question would be, why do you care what he does?"
"My reasons are my own," Ikkaku snapped.
Imakao finished his drink and stood up. "I respect that. I didn't mean for you to give me an answer. I meant that you should answer the question for yourself. Like I said: he has something you want, something you need. Try being honest with yourself." He refilled the glass. "Now, are you going to fight me or not?"
Ikkaku hung for a moment before heading for the door into the ante-chamber through which he'd entered.
"Just one more thing, Madarame-san."
The use of his name told Ikkaku it was true that Yumichika was still doing business here and that he must have mentioned his name often enough for Imakao to remember it.
"Yeah?" he said over his shoulder.
"That night you came here . . . I hated you," Imakao said. "I hated that you would trespass on my estate and try to force Ayasegawa to leave with you. But I don't hate you anymore. I know, from what Yumichika tells me, that you aren't a danger to him. You're probably a good thing for him." He paused. "But so am I. We should be friends, not enemies."
"I don't want your friendship," Ikkaku replied. "But I'm not listing you as an enemy either."
With that, he was gone.
Two months later.
The view from the top of the mountain was captivating. Mito Village was ideally situated. Ikkaku could not deny it. Nor could he deny that Yumichika constituted the greatest part of the village's attraction.
Two months Ikkaku had been gone. It was the longest he'd ever stayed away. He'd known since that day at Imakao's that he would return. It had only been a question of when his outrage and offended ego would quiet and heal. It had taken longer than expected, but as the days had worn on, and Ikkaku had gone from town to town, stirring up whatever commotion he could, he found that satisfaction was more elusive than ever it had been.
In days past, he would have felt exhilarated – even if only briefly – after a fight. Not so now. He felt tired, anxious and lonesome. Lonesome! It was a horrible feeling and an even more horrible thought that he could experience such weakness.
But no amount of horror could deter his slow journey back to Mito and Yumichika. Although it disgusted him, he had to acknowledge the truth that both Yumichika and Imakao had asserted. He could not stay away. If it meant he had to swallow his pride, so be it; especially this time, after he had stormed off in fury, even after Yumichika had apologized and begged him to stay. If Yumichika felt any compulsion to crow at his return, Ikkaku would let him have his gloat. It would be small price to pay for what he stood to gain.
He started down towards the village. It was early afternoon, and there were few people in the streets. Ikkaku passed them as if they didn't exist and headed directly for Yumichika's.
Going inside, he found the room empty. "Yumichika!" he called out.
There was no answer.
He went to the wash porch and opened the door only to be met with sounds of contention and anger. But there was only one voice. He raced across the porch, bursting into the tiny wall-enclosed garden behind the machiya, and there he found Yumichika, hunched over a water-filled tub, his arms elbow deep, having a violent argument with some piece of cloth or other that was not cooperating in the washing.
At the sound of someone entering, Yumichika startled and raised his head.
"Ikkaku!" The joy was so radiant in his face that Ikkaku's fears about his own pride were laid to rest instantly.
Yumichika came around the tub and, for a moment, it appeared he was going to embrace him; but he opted instead for a nod of the head. "I'm so glad you're back."
There was a strange inflection in his voice, as if he were not only glad, but relieved.
"Looks like I saved some piece of clothing from your wrath," Ikkaku quipped, strolling over to take a look in the tub.
"Oh, that doesn't matter," Yumichika said excitedly. "Come inside. Are you hungry?"
"A little bit, yeah." He was starving.
"Wonderful. I'll make you something. Come and sit down."
Ikkaku smiled inwardly. He had made the right decision to come back. Yumichika was ready to serve him like a king. He sat down among the pillows and watched as Yumichika busied himself in the cooking area. It took Ikkaku only a few seconds to notice that Yumichika, despite his enthusiasm, was moving rather stiffly.
"Why are you moving like that?" Ikkaku asked.
"Like what?" Yumichika asked.
"Like you've pulled every muscle in your body."
Yumichika chuckled. "You try standing over a wash tub for eight hours. I hate wash day. I hate it. I should just pay for a service, but I don't trust anyone."
"I'm getting sore just looking at you," Ikkaku said.
"This is nothing compared to the shape you've come home in a few times," Yumichika replied.
"Yeah, but I'm fighting men, not a kimono."
Yumichika smirked. "Do you want to try your hand at it? There's still a lot to do. You're welcome to it."
Ikkaku held up his hands. "No thanks. Besides, I don't want to deprive you of the joy you seem to derive from it."
Twenty minutes later, Yumichika had a meal on the table. But that wasn't all. He'd been waiting two months to say the only thing that had been on his mind the whole time.
"I'm sorry for what I did, Ikkaku," he said, sitting down across from him. His voice contained an earnestness that proved his sincerity. "It was stupid of me."
"It was stupid," Ikkaku agreed, stuffing down a mouthful of rice. "But don't apologize, Yumichika. Just don't do it again."
"I won't," Yumichika promised.
Ikkaku had never seen him so humble.
Yumichika spoke in a tepid voice. "But will you . . . will you stay a few weeks now?"
The question came as a surprise, but Ikkaku was ready with an answer.
"Yeah. I'll stay for a while." He drew in a deep breath. "You know, I have to admit . . . I don't get it. Why do you do all these things for me? Why do you want me around? The entire village hates me. They only tolerate me because of you. You spend half your time patching me up, the other half feeding me. I treat you pretty badly. Even when we're getting along, we're arguing all the time. Why—why do—why are you-"
"I like having you around." His characteristic frankness was softened by the odd shyness in his voice.
Ikkaku was impatient. "But why? I've never done anything for you."
Yumichika was silent for a long time. He appeared reluctant, but at last, he answered, "You're the only person who's never wanted anything from me."
Ikkaku barely managed to swallow his mouthful of sake before he blurted out, "Never wanted anything? Have you been paying attention all these months? You've provided everything, and I've—I've done nothing but make demands."
"That's not true," Yumichika replied. "The only thing you ever asked me for was a cup of water. I offered everything else." A strange, somber shadow had fallen over his face, lending a forlorn aspect to his beauty.
Ikkaku was silent for a moment, then he said, "Well, I'm glad you offered, because I could never repay you."
Yumichika, seeming to grow more uncomfortable with each second, gave a clearly artificial smile, stood up, and announced, "Don't worry about it. I never asked to be repaid." Then in an attempt to abandon the subject, "You must be exhausted. I'll fix you a bath."
"Yumichika, what's wrong?" Ikkaku asked. It had been a long time since he last saw his host in such a withdrawn state. "I can tell something's bothering you. What is it?"
But Yumichika's only response was to flash the phony smile back over his shoulder and give a meaningless answer. "Nothing's wrong."
"Don't lie to me." Ikkaku's voice was serious and insistent. "If something's happened, you'd better tell me."
Yumichika sighed. He really did not want to say what was on his mind, but he also knew Ikkaku deserved to hear it. "I'm going to say this, and you're going to laugh at me," he began, "But you won't leave me alone until I tell you, so I will." A pause. "I feel like . . . you need me."
Ikkaku did not laugh, as Yumichika had feared. But he did find the statement amusing enough that he could not hide a curl of his mouth into a slight grin. "Even though, according to you, I never ask for anything?"
"Just because you don't ask doesn't mean you don't need," Yumichika replied. "I know you would never ask me for anything, so I . . . I anticipate what you need."
Now, Ikkaku chuckled and shook his head. "You are the strangest person I've ever met."
"You like to tell me that."
"Because it's true," Ikkaku said, adding in an attempt to lighten the mood, "And, uh, for the record, I make it a habit not to need anyone. But if it makes you feel better, I like to make demands of you, and I like it when you give me what I want. I mean, I'm getting shelter, food, water, clothes from you. You look after me when I take a beating. What do other people ask of you? To make clothes for them? To mend a tear here and there? And pay you for it. I haven't given you anything in return – except for my company. And that's not exactly fair payment. "
Yumichika's expression was the most serious Ikkaku had ever seen. "Believe me, it looks very different from my perspective. Let's just say I trust you."
Ikkaku raised an eyebrow. "You trust me? To do what?"
Yumichika shrugged self-consciously. "I just trust you, that's all. You would never—" He cut himself off, as if he feared giving too much away.
"Ah, come on, say it! You were about to make sense—finally—cause I haven't understood any of what you're trying to tell me right now. So, come on, tell me what it is," Ikkaku pressed. "What is it I'd never do?" Seeing the stricken look that suddenly crossed Yumichika's face, he became worried for a moment. "Yumichika?"
Yumichika's struggle showed in every part of his body. At last, he said, "You'd never make me regret being beautiful."
Ikkaku tried to disguise his surprise and puzzlement at this cryptic statement. For several seconds he sat in silence as the color rose in Yumichika's cheeks. Clearly, it had been a difficult and embarrassing admission, and Ikkaku had to tread carefully.
"You're right. I'd never do that," he said at length. He waited a few seconds to see if Yumichika would say anything else. But when he didn't, he went on. "I never thought you could regret being beautiful. You love the way you look."
Yumichika nodded slightly. "I do," he agreed, then he stood up and began clearing the plates.
"Then what's the problem?" Ikkaku pressed.
"I don't—there's no problem," Yumichika replied. "Don't listen to me. I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm tired and . . . I'm just glad you're back. I don't want to ruin it."
Ikkaku sighed. He'd actually believed he might get some useful insight into Yumichika's inner workings. He should have known better.
"I'm only letting you off the hook because I'm too tired to pursue it, and I could really use that bath right now."
"I'll go prepare it," Yumichika offered, sounding relieved as he headed towards the wash porch.
A short while later, he came back in to announce the bath was ready.
Ikkaku went onto the wash porch and began to undress before he realized he had brought nothing to wear once he had bathed.
He stepped back inside. "I forgot to get—"
Ikkaku stopped in mid-sentence.
In the dim light, he saw Yumichika changing into his night shift.
But he saw something else, as well. Yumichika's right shoulder was deeply discolored and swollen.
Yumichika had started to slide the shift on, but Ikkaku stopped him, crossing the room in three steps and taking hold of his sleeve.
"What happened? What are all these bruises?"
"Oh," Yumichika sighed with a sheepish smile. "I didn't want you to see that."
"How did you get these?" Ikkaku's voice was severe as he moved behind Yumichika for a closer look. A horrified breath escaped his lips as his eyes took in the sight of more bruises on his back. "Shit, Yumichika, what happened?"
Yumichika turned to face him. "Let's just say you were right about me: I'm not worth fighting."
"You got in a fight with someone?" Ikkaku asked, his eyes widening in surprise.
Yumichika shrugged. "I guess you could call it that."
"Who was it?" Ikkaku demanded.
"I didn't know them. They were highway bandits," Yumichika replied, pulling the shift on.
"Highway bandits?"
"I was coming home from Sendar, and I got jumped."
Ikkaku drew the shift back up and examined the bruises more closely. "When did this happen?"
"It was early last week," Yumichika replied. He pulled the garment down again and started to turn away.
But Ikkaku was not giving up. He reached out and took hold of Yumichika's arm, causing him to wince and give a muffled groan of pain.
Ikkaku let go of him immediately. "I'm sorry, Yumichika," he apologized. "But these bruises – you didn't get them all at the same time."
"Are you a doctor now?" Yumichika quipped.
"No, but I'm an expert on bruising. I've had plenty of personal experience," Ikkaku pressed. "How did you get these?"
Yumichika's expression softened. He drew closer and regarded Ikkaku with intense eyes. "Are you worried about me, Ikkaku?"
Ikkaku steeled himself. He knew the look being directed at him, and he knew his own vulnerability to it. And he was furious that Yumichika would attempt it on him at a time like this. "When I see you covered with bruises, yes, I worry."
"It was just a skirmish on the road." Yumichika's voice was dulcet, hypnotic. "It's over, and I don't want you to worry."
Ikkaku felt himself sinking under, and he was sorely tempted to continue the fall. The only thing that stopped him from giving in was the persistent image of the bruises pushing their way into the forefront of his thoughts.
He pulled himself together, turning abruptly away. "Don't do that, Yumichika," he warned. "I'm serious about this. You're lying to me. Why?"
"I'm not lying," Yumichika insisted, coming around to stand in front of him. "I was walking home from Sendar and I got jumped. Why is that so hard to believe? You've seen it happen before, so you know it's not so improbable."
"You have bruises on your shoulder and your back. There's not a mark on your face," Ikkaku said. "Why would someone attack you and only beat you up from the neck down?"
"I don't know," Yumichika replied. "Maybe it's because I went down so quickly, they didn't need to . . . " He stopped speaking as Ikkaku slowly raised his eyes and looked at him with disbelief and disgust. "I wish you wouldn't look at me like that," he stammered.
"I wish you wouldn't lie to me," Ikkaku countered. "You said you trusted me. You know, there's not much I've been able to offer you, but the one thing I can do is make sure no one ever hurts you."
Yumichika smiled in an unsuccessful attempt to disarm. "Even you can't do that if you're not here. Besides, I don't need protecting, Ikkaku. It was one time." He grinned. "But I'm touched that you want to protect me. Can we please stop talking about it now? Your bath will get cold."
Ikkaku frowned in resignation. He wasn't going to get anything more out of Yumichika, so he backed off.
But this wasn't near being over. Finally, there was something Ikkaku could do for Yumichika. He would not be deprived of it because of Yumichika's ego.
He headed for the wash porch.
