Thank you, everyone, for your support and reviews! I really appreciate it! I'll try to answer everyone individually as I go :) Sorry for not posting this yesterday, July 4th holiday and all. Hope you enjoy the rest of the story!
For the first time in what felt like too long, Yumichika slept curled in the curve of Ikkaku's lean body. Despite the comforting nearness of the young man he loved, he had formless nightmares full of dread, of fear, of a terrible inability to escape something crushing and cruel. Sometimes it was his father. Other times, it hid itself inside Ikkaku himself, telling him over and over, 'What does she think I'm doing with you, eh? Like she doesn't know my tastes by now...'
He woke on the verge of a broken-hearted sob, silent tears coursing down his cheeks. The room was bright with daylight, a cheerful setting that only made the ache in his chest more keen.
'I can't mistake him,' he thought, wiping his eyes with discretion lest he wake Ikkaku and be forced to explain his tears. 'Whatever I feel for him...maybe it will pass? Maybe, if I ignore it, it will cease to exist...'
Ikkaku made a low, raspy sound behind him, partially a growl, like he was dreaming of fighting. It took everything in him not to yelp when Ikkaku blindly nuzzled his ear and followed a soft bite to the side of his throat with an absent kiss. Yumichika lay frozen against the curve of his chest and belly, his eyes widening so much that they threatened to pop out of his head. Terror and elation once more tugged him in different directions, but his heart didn't pay them any mind - it raced in his chest, pounding hard in triumph, relief, and joy.
The heavy, lax hand tucked over Yumichika's waist slid up, then, moving to the boy's small but muscular chest.
And that was when Ikkaku opened his eyes and once more trampled on something he didn't realize was even there.
"Eh? What the - ?! Ah, sorry, Yumichika," the youth said, his voice even more raspy with sleep, his hand dropping from Yumichika's chest. "I'm not used to waking up to you. I thought you were someone else."
"You idiot!" Yumichika hissed, his teeth clenched. He jerked away from Ikkaku's loose embrace and sat up, turning to pummel him with fists that did damage far in excess of their size and delicacy. "Stupid! Stupid!"
"Hey! Hey! I'm sorry, I said!" Ikkaku shouted, lifting one lazy forearm to block Yumichika's furious fists. "Don't get so mad, Yumichika! I didn't realize it was you!"
That just served to infuriate him more, and Yumichika stood to kick him with one bare foot before flouncing away, scared that he might try to do Ikkaku bodily harm.
"How dare you, you idiot!" Yumichika fumed, outraged over it. That overgrown excuse for a man, groping him in the morning like it was the most natural thing in the world and then telling him it was a mistake?! It was too much to bear, truly! "For your information, I got used to not sleeping next to you!"
"Oh? Ah, well, you're too old for it, anyway," Ikkaku said, sitting up with a shrug and rubbing one hand over his bald head. "A boy your age should be able to sleep alone."
"I didn't say I was alone," Yumichika tartly told him, suddenly inspired. Ikkaku wasn't the only one who could have...dalliances!
"Eh? You?!" Ikkaku asked, as if it was the most unreasonable suggestion in the world, or so laughably impossible that the sheer idea of it was ridiculous. "Who?!"
"What an ugly conversation," Yumichika declared it, poking his nose into the air and crossing his arms over his molested chest, blushing at the memory of Ikkaku kissing his throat.
"You started it," Ikkaku pointed out, rising to his feet with fluid grace, the light throwing shadows on the ridges of his belly beneath the half-open layers of his underclothes. "What a stupid thing to yell about! Heh!"
A scratch at the door spared Yumichika from answering.
"Yes?"
"There is a messenger here to see one Ayasegawa Yumichika," she said, cracking the door slightly before hastily retreating in the face of Ikkaku's undress. "Do you wish to see him?"
"Yes, send him in," Yumichika ordered, desperate for a distraction.
It was Kenta, bearing a bundled package and a much-worn smile.
"Kenta! What are you doing here?" Yumichika asked, hastening to divest the man of his small load, giving his shoulders a squeeze in the only form of affection he'd ever been able to show. "How did you find us?"
"Lord Kenji had one of the men trail you," Kenta said, naming Yumichika's Eldest Brother. "He sent me here with these things for you, because they are yours."
"Kenta," Yumichika said, kneeling to be eye-to-eye with him. "I am so very sorry that my escape did you harm. Can you forgive me?"
Kenta smiled at him, saying, "Young Master, your father grows less bearable the sicker he becomes. Master Kenji does his best to mitigate the damage, and in my case he prevented the worst that could happen. He has promised me a bit of land and a house of my own once your father has passed, as thanks for my long service to your House. So, yes, little Lord Kanesuke, I forgive you, and if you hadn't run, I would have found a way to help you escape. I am only sorry that you didn't ask."
He looked at Ikkaku, then, who hadn't bothered to do more than pull on his House hakama.
"Sir, I beg you, deal gently with him," Kenta said, earnest. "He has always been a noble, whatever place he may have hidden. He is unused to difficulties, and should not be abused."
"Eh?" Ikkaku asked, his expression growing thunderous. Before the youth could erupt in an explosion of shouting, Yumichika softly told Kenta, "Madarame Ikkaku has always taken very good care of me...some instances notwithstanding," he followed that with a glare from the corners of his eyes that actually made Ikkaku blush and scowl. "He is never purposefully unkind."
"Master, Lord Kanesuke," Kenta said, lowering his voice so that Ikkaku strained to hear him, reluctantly curious. "He is...he is your master, now. Be pleasant in all things, restrain your temper, and do your best to please him so that he remembers you well. It is always within his power to sell you again..."
"Thank you," Yumichika murmured, realizing that he was right. Ikkaku had tossed the scroll of paper down last night and didn't seem inclined to bother with it, but it was a deed of sale all the same, however meaningless it might be. "I'll remember. Please, carry my thanks to Eldest Brother, and wish the family well."
"What a stupid thing to tell me!" Ikkaku said when Kenta left. He looked bewildered and offended, and ready to start a fight just to have something else to focus on. "Like I care that your father sold you! Heh! Stupid! You know that's stupid, Yumichika, eh? You can't buy a person with money. You belong to you, Yumichika, and I don't care what that paper says!"
"He doesn't know that! And you can't blame him for thinking you're a dangerous barbarian," Yumichika pointed out, gesturing at Ikkaku's loosened clothing, which revealed his powerful build and myriad scars. "You look like a criminal, Ikkaku! And you glare at everyone, it makes them think you're cruel. A cruel, mannerless, barbarian criminal."
"Keep it up, brat," Ikkaku warned, shamed into casting around for his short House kimono. "And I'll pound you!"
Yumichika's level glare only made him more irritated, but the younger boy turned away from him to open the package that Eldest Brother had sent.
"He sent it!" Yumichika cried, gleefully lifting his beloved sword out of the open canvas. "Ah! If only just this, that would be enough! But look, Ikkaku, he sent the kimono you got me as well, and some Kan!"
Ikkaku had donned his short kimono and came over at a slow saunter, tucking in the tails to tighten his hakama ties. His grey gaze was troubled as he crouched, his fine fingers sorting through what Eldest Brother had sent, which was graciously in excess of what Yumichika had arrived with.
"What do you want to do with it?" Yumichika asked, tying his reclaimed feathers in his loose hair. It was a reasonable question, considering they didn't have a place to live, and people without a home didn't have belongings.
"Why ask me?" Ikkaku flared, blushing again and uncomfortable. "This isn't mine to deal with! You belong to you, Yumichika, I said!"
"Ikkaku, whatever you think, there's a piece of paper that says otherwise," Yumichika told him, just to be perverse. "Until I can purchase my freedom from you, I'll always be yours..."
'I'll always be yours...' It startled him as much as it did Ikkaku, both of them staring at one another in surprise. Yumichika knew in his heart that it was true - even if Ikkaku burned the paper, even if he bought his own freedom, even if he died, he would always belong to Ikkaku. It might be full of unfilled longing and regrets, he might rage against it until he thought his soul would fracture, he might consign himself to having his heart broken over and over in all the myriad ways that Ikkaku could thoughtlessly contrive - but the simple truth was, at nearly fourteen years old, Yumichika belonged entirely to Ikkaku.
And he did so whether either of them wanted it or not.
"Stupid," Ikkaku quietly said, and for once he was the first to look away. "Pack it tightly; I'll carry it."
"Ikkaku - "
"I'll carry it, I said!" Ikkaku flared, turning his head to glare down at the smaller boy, just daring him to say anything. "That man thinks I'll abuse you, eh? As if I didn't carry you so far! As if I wasn't willing to fight every single guard at your father's house just to get to you! These things are precious to you, Yumichika, and I've promised to take care of you, so I will!"
It was vaguely alarming how quickly he could forgive his anger at Ikkaku, how quickly the young man could slip back under his guard and into his good graces without even trying. With an ill-repressed smile, Yumichika said, "Thank you, Ikkaku, for caring for what it precious to me."
"Er...yeah, well, if I have to carry this then you're walking," Ikkaku declared, looking arrogantly away as he always did when Yumichika had managed to affect him in a way he wasn't quite sure of. "You damned brat!"
"I intended to, you idiot!" Yumichika said, quickly bundling the items up except for the pinwheel kimono, which he exchanged for the one he'd been wearing. He paused, then, and looked up at the youth who had dared a Manor House full of guards to rescue him. Very softly, he said once more, "Thank you, Ikkaku...for everything."
Those grey eyes turned to his in startled surprise, but instead of his usual deflection, Ikkaku lowly said, "Not too much, Yumichika...not too much, eh?"
"I won't," he promised, hefting the bundle into Ikkaku's arms. "Let me dress, and then we can go."
"Ah," Ikkaku sighed, standing, arranging the bundle to sling it across his body. "And go where, now?"
Yumichika donned the kimono, realizing that he'd grown since they'd purchased it, and not just in the flesh. He settled his sword at his hip and tied back his hair before moving to Ikkaku's side.
"I guess we can go anywhere we want," he said.
Ikkaku grinned at that and headed out, saying, "Come on, brat."
It didn't matter to Yumichika where they were going because he knew one thing was true - wherever Madarame Ikkaku might wander, Yumichika would be right at his side.
Yumichika grew, finally, but he never managed to catch up to Ikkaku, who remained a full head taller than him. Yet he wasn't unhappy all the same. Ikkaku had a build worthy of envy, but Yumichika enjoyed his own willowy grace and the power of his slender figure. They made quite a pair as they drifted through Rukongai, but being idle didn't settle well on either of them, and Ikkaku's frustration made his hair-trigger temper flare at the least provocation.
"No one wants to fight you after this, you know," Yumichika told him, watching Ikkaku rise from his crouch, wiping at his bloodied nose. "These people aren't savages."
"Well, they had me fooled," Ikkaku growled, stepping over the man's splayed body to stand before Yumichika. They had reached that age of long youth, where the body had finally matured enough to allow the focus to fall on other things. Yumichika knew from his own family that such a span of time could encompass centuries or even millenniums depending on the spirit pressure of the soul. But if all the time he had with Ikkaku was mere centuries, it was still far too little...
"Eh? You changed," Ikkaku said, noticing the new kimono that Yumichika wore. It was a daring shade of lavender so light it was almost white, scattered all over with red pinwheels and green leaves in as close a replica of his old one as possible. He'd outgrown it, finally, and had reluctantly given it away. "It's like your other, eh?"
"Yes, I thought so," Yumichika said, preening despite the stench of blood and the haze of odor that surrounded this particular settlement. He pushed his hair back again, and smiled at Ikkaku. "Are you done? You didn't kill him, did you?"
"Nah, he didn't have a weapon, just that club," Ikkaku said, almost mournfully. They were in the minority, though, of people who had weapons. Most everyone was too poor to afford them and had no need of them anyway. The only way to fight as Ikkaku loved was to return to the matches offered by the Mistress of the Open Rose, and neither of them were willing to do that. "You know, you owe me a fight, Yumichika."
"Ah? Do I?" he lightly asked, knowing full well that he did. It seemed a thousand years ago that he'd told Ikkaku of his training to be in the Stealth Force, and the promise he'd made to one day fight the rangy young man. Now, now they were both grown men, but somehow the fight had fallen by the wayside. "Well, what a silly thing, anyway, Ikkaku. I don't want to get my new kimono dirty. And this place is just...well, it certainly isn't beautiful."
Ikkaku scowled at him. It was so ferocious that those who'd come to collect the fallen man decided that a retreat was in order, and scattered to leave the two men alone.
"Ah, such a scary face!" Yumichika chided, pleased when Ikkaku's scowl lessened to his familiar frown. "We'll have to go someplace worse, Ikkaku. We can't continue to make such a disturbance in these districts."
Ikkaku turned a thoughtful gaze east, where the gate of district thirty gave way to thirty-one.
"Hey, Yumichika," he said, his low voice carrying a familiar, soft purr. "Are you okay with it? Eh?"
"What a stupid question!" Yumichika lightly said, looking away because the fading light on Ikkaku's face turned his skin to gold and his eyes to silver fire. "If you decide to go there, I'll go with you, Ikkaku. After all this time, do you even need to ask?"
Ikkaku laughed, amused. "Nah, I guess not. You know, for a noble brat Prince, you've adapted better than I thought, Yumichika."
"It's because I'm so beautiful," Yumichika informed him, daring to look back, smiling when he found Ikkaku's eyes on him. "You're the only one who doesn't see it..."
"Heh, what good is it, eh? Being beautiful in an ugly place like this!" Ikkaku scoffed, casting a disparaging look around. "You're grown now, brat. I guess I did what I promised."
It alarmed Yumichika, as well it should. The more he'd grown, the better he'd become at fighting, the more capable he'd proven himself and the more Ikkaku had fallen back into the desire that Yumichika had first known him for.
The more time passed, the more Ikkaku hated this place and wanted to die.
And nothing Yumichika could do would sway him.
That had the power to make him despair, knowing that his friendship, his companionship, his love wasn't enough to make Ikkaku want to stay. He knew he meant something to Ikkaku - otherwise, why would the man have bothered saving him all those years ago - but whatever it was...it simply wasn't enough.
"Don't say such things, Ikkaku," he softly said. He'd honed feigning indifference to a fine art, because to do otherwise would give reign to the chaotic feelings he had for Ikkaku, and he knew what the result would be. Ikkaku would turn from him in disgust, would reject him, or at the least would laugh at him for his nonsense and just...just walk away. "What would happen to me if you died?"
"Ah, who are you fooling, Yumichika?" Ikkaku asked, smirking wryly at him. "You can take care of yourself."
He headed off, and Yumichika called out, "Ikkaku! I've changed my mind!"
"Eh?" The rangy man turned around to look at him, the breeze toying with the light material of his short summer wear.
"That fight I promised you," Yumichika said, forcing himself into serene calm. "Are you ready?"
"Here?" Ikkaku questioned, his grin growing feral and sharp.
"It isn't beautiful, but I suppose there isn't any help for it," Yumichika lightly said, sighing prettily. Outwardly, he was composed - bored, even - but on the inside his heart was racing with fear and the aching need to give Ikkaku a reason to stay. "Would you rather wait, Ikkaku? Perhaps you need to let your wounds heal..."
"Heh!" Ikkaku laughed, pulling his sword free from his sash and swiping at his forehead again. "As if I'd need to do something so weak as that!"
"Ah, well, I offered," Yumichika said, and sprang at him.
He lacked Ikkaku's honing in the fights the Mistress had hosted, but if there was one person in the world he knew as well as himself, it was Madarame Ikkaku. He knew every nuance of his body language, every adaptive technique the man had ever developed. There wasn't a bend or curve to his body that Yumichika could not read like an open invitation, and while it didn't put him on the same level as Ikkaku, it allowed him to successfully hold his own for far longer than he would've thought.
"You've gotten better, Yumichika!" Ikkaku praised, the sheer strength of his strikes sending shockwaves through Yumichika's slender but powerful arms. "You weren't just boasting, eh?!"
"It isn't beautiful to brag," Yumichika told him, eyes narrowing when Ikkaku's blade didn't hit quite the distance it had just a moment before. He'd never known Ikkaku to grant quarter to anyone, but it was slowly dawning on him that the fierce warrior was doing something that Yumichika had never thought him capable of...
He was hesitating.
By the barest fraction, by the smallest amount, Ikkaku was pulling his strikes. Yumichika doubted that the bald fighter was even aware of it, but that didn't make it any less true.
'Come now, beautiful boy, it isn't the brilliance of those tail feathers that graceful beast wants to see. It's your talons...'
The voice was so clear, so vibrant, and so undeniably not his own that Yumichika lost track of the fight for a split second. His mind filled with feathers and blossoms, curling vines and unfurling leaves as if a beautiful, lush garden had grown within his mind's eye.
'Ah, if only you were as smart as you are beautiful...'
He shook his head, the voice fading, and adjusted his grip on his sword. If there was one thing that he would forgive Ikkaku but Ikkaku wouldn't tolerate from him, it was granting quarter. He would have to press him, and hard, and use that hesitation to his advantage however unfair it felt.
"You're going to lose to me, Madarame Ikkaku," he softly said, gracefully avoiding the swing of that sheath, countering the blade that angled from the opposite side.
"What makes you think that, brat?" Ikkaku asked, baring his teeth in a fierce grin. He always looked so happy when he was fighting, because he was that much closer to getting what he wanted.
"Because unlike you, Ikkaku," Yumichika said, and took the slight opening offered in the wake of Ikkaku's movement. "I won't hesitate."
He struck true, driving the sword half its length through the ropy meat of Ikkaku's shoulder. He might as well have driven it through his own heart, the pain was so terrible, but this was the only way.
"Ah," Ikkaku said in a rough, low, pleased voice. "You're better than I thought, Yumichika. But you won't win."
Yumichika stood there, face to face with him, close enough to feel the heat of his body, the sticky warmth of Ikkaku's blood beginning a slow trickle down his blade.
"If I want, I'll win," Ikkaku said, grinning at him. "If I wanted you to, you'd finish me, eh?"
"Why would you think such a thing, Ikkaku?" Yumichika softly asked, wanting nothing more than to withdraw the blade, to offer Ikkaku a comfort that he would only impatiently reject.
There was an unusual twinkle in those beautiful grey eyes, and a wry, sad curve to Ikkaku's mouth when he rasped, "All I'd have to do was ask you for it, eh, Yumichika? When have you ever told me no?"
He did withdraw the sword, then, doing so with a startled gasp, his head filled with soft, mocking laughter that wasn't his own. He recovered with a light huff and said in a voice that was far from steady, "How ugly! I can think of nothing more flawless, Ikkaku, than dying by my sword - what else would anyone rather see as their last image in life than my beautiful face looking back at them? - but you deserve far better a setting for that vision than a nasty, ugly alley."
Ikkaku laughed, the sound turning to a harsh growl as the pain hit. It didn't lessen his grin, however, because he'd told Yumichika countless times that the only thing that he could truly feel was pain. Pain lasted. Pain left a mark to be remembered, something that laughter, that love, that happiness simply could not.
If that was all he could offer that Ikkaku would take, then he would give everything he could...
Yumichika drew his sword through his fingers, wiping off Ikkaku's warm blood. He sheathed it with care, his violet eyes on Ikkaku's lean face, and softly said, "You're bleeding everywhere, Ikkaku. Let's have that seen to."
"Oh? You're giving up?" Ikkaku goaded him, but there was no heat to his voice. He pressed his hand to the wound, hardly staunching the flow of blood, but his grin was victorious all the same.
"A graceful retreat is in order, I think," Yumichika told him, smiling serenely. "I've given you the fight I promised you, Ikkaku. I never promised you a beautiful ending."
What frightened Yumichika was the knowledge that Ikkaku was right - should he ever ask it of him, should Ikkaku demand it of him, then he would do it, however much it might hurt him, however much he might weep within and rage against it. What wouldn't he do for Madarame Ikkaku?
If Ikkaku ever pushed him to do so, then Yumichika would provide him with his beautiful ending.