Dear Reader, I must give you fair warning that this chapter contains extremely graphic sexual content. Nothing violent - just a painstakingly lurid description of sexual activity. This is usually not my style, but it was what came to me one afternoon as the snow was falling outside my house; and so, here it is. Now, just a reminder . . . these are Souls, so they can endure much greater, emmm, exertion, than we mere mortals can! So, if there are some things that seem . . . well, extreme, just remember that in Bleach, characters who get cut in half, impaled by human fists, and disintegrate into thin air are able to make come-backs! I'm not that extreme, but it does get a little wild! Enjoy! Peace, The Kujaku
Chapter 10 The Dragon Meets His Master. Peacock in the Snow.
"Every time I hear the sound of the rain
beating on my roof again,
I want to taste your love,
and I want to go deep."
Deep
Justin Hayward
"The first thing to remember is that a zanpakuto is born of your soul. Its entire existence depends on you, but it's not just some extension of your own soul. It has its own personality, its own voice, its own strength. And its own weaknesses."
Iba Tetsuzaemon sat cross-legged on the floor inside one of Squad Eleven's smaller training rooms. Ikkaku sat across from him, listening intently but impatient for action.
"But my sword existed long before it became mine," Ikkaku pointed out. "It was handed down to me. I didn't create it."
"I didn't say you created it," Iba countered, adding cryptically, "The power to create doesn't belong to us; but that doesn't mean you can't be the one to wield something you didn't create. The soul is eternal. Your zanpakuto may have been created from your soul before you were aware even of your own existence." A pause. "You may not have even been the one to awaken your zanpakuto. But it looks like you're its ultimate end – its master."
"Sound like a bunch of bullshit to me," Ikkaku smirked.
Iba ignored him. "Since the zanpakuto comes from its master's soul, it has a lot of its master's traits. The key is to recognize those traits in yourself and master them—in yourself. Then you can master them in your zanpakuto." He was very serious. "And believe me, you want to master your zanpakuto, because if that power is left unchecked, it can wreak all sorts of havoc."
Ikkaku grinned. "Are you speaking from experience?"
"Damn right I am, but we're not going to go into that right now," Iba replied, sticking to the task at hand. "You see, zanpakuto don't want to be mastered. They want to be equal to or greater than their wielders, and it takes a long time to break them of their . . . delusions of superiority. To do that, you have to learn your zanpakuto's name. Then you'll be able to develop the trust and obedience that's needed to grow stronger together." He paused. "So, before we begin: have you never heard anything of your zanpakuto's voice? Not a whisper? Not even in sleep?"
"I heard his voice, but I didn't think it was him," Ikkaku replied. He shook his head in self-recrimination. "I thought it was my conscience. He even told me he was a zanpakuto, but I just thought I was hearing my own thoughts, that I was jealous because Yumichika had a zanpakuto and I didn't."
"What did he say to you?"
"He, uh, he insulted me a lot," Ikkaku said with a cheeky smile. "But I guess I deserved most of it." A pause. "He was pissed off at some of the decisions I had made."
Iba nodded once. "Did you get a sense that he was powerful?"
"I didn't really pay attention," Ikkaku answered. "Remember, I thought I was just talking to myself."
"Well, I can tell he's powerful," Iba said. "I can sense brute strength in your reiatsu. That's probably your zanpakuto's power pushing through." He stared hard from behind the dark glasses. "He's not going to go down without a fight."
Now, Ikkaku was bursting at the seams. "I like a good fight. Let's get to it."
"The proper manner of communicating with a zanpakuto is called jinzen—"
"I know that—"
"Don't interrupt me." Iba went on without hesitation. "It involves quieting your mind and entering into your inner world – your zanpakuto's world. If you do it properly, you will enter through the center of your zanpakuto's power. He won't like this, but you can't let that dissuade you. Once you're there, wait until he comes to you. Don't go searching him out. Make him come to you. From that point . . . imagine you're dealing with yourself."
"But how do I enter? How do I quiet my mind?"
"Hold your sword across your lap, like this. Close your eyes and empty your mind. Don't let any thoughts get inside. Your zanpakuto has already spoken to you, so chances are he'll come again – especially if he senses that you're trying to reach him. He may try and lead you to enter somewhere other than the center of his power. Don't let him. Go wherever your instinct leads you."
Ikkaku drew in a deep breath. It all sounded so . . . imprecise and haphazard. But he would give it a try.
He positioned his sword and closed his eyes. Clearing his mind was something else altogether. No matter how hard he tried, random thoughts kept popping up. No sooner did he banish one thought than another came to take its place. It seemed as if hours had passed during which he grew weary from the attempt to still his mind; and then, just like that, he felt a serenity settle into his limbs, a heavy warmth that felt very much like sleep, except that he was not tired.
He opened his eyes and breathed deep in wonder.
He was in a cave of monstrous proportions, illuminated by an orange light emanating from walls oozing with lava flows that disappeared beneath the cave floor, a plateau of jagged rock, at the foot of which ran a red river.
The heat was searing, yet somehow comfortable. The air felt close and thick, diffused with a sense of masculine brawn that Ikkaku found very agreeable. Looking around, he was alone. Not a sign of life anywhere. He began walking, taking in a full view and eventually coming to a long tunnel on a slight downward slope. He was about to start down the tunnel when he heard a sound behind him.
Turning, his jaw dropped.
In front of him stood a creature the likes of which he had never seen – or even imagined. The being was bipedal, at least ten feet tall, yet with otherwise human proportions. The face was animalistic but with human expression – a broad, anticipatory grin at the moment. The body was strong and muscular, covered with thick reddish-brown fur, the only piece of clothing, a white loin cloth.
"So, you finally made it."
Ikkaku was surprised to hear the creature's voice – deep and throaty – human. It was a voice he had heard before. The same voice he had always imagined was his own conscience.
"It's about damned time," the creature went on. "I was starting to think you were too stupid to figure it out."
"Stupid or not, I'm here now," Ikkaku replied evenly, perhaps a hint of challenge in his voice. "You weren't smart enough to keep me out, so I guess that makes you pretty stupid, too."
"Who says I wanted to keep you out? I've been waiting for this for a long time."
"Waiting for what?" Ikkaku asked.
"For you to come in here, partner," the being replied with a toothy grin. "I've been ready to start training ever since I came into existence and especially once I found my way into your hands. I had a lot of other owners before I finally ended up where I belonged. And now, I'm tired of waiting. I'm ready to get started."
Ikkaku liked the sound of this. "I'm ready when you are," he said, adding, "I, uh, I don't suppose you want to tell me your name."
The being's tiny eyes narrowed even further. "You have to earn that information." He drew his sword.
Now, it was Ikkaku's turn to smile. "Gladly," he replied, unsheathing his own sword. "Let's go!"
"I love the feel of your hands on my body," Yumichika exhaled, the afterglow of bliss so entrancing it almost took his breath away.
"Well, I love the way your body feels," Mendalo returned, gently stoking his fingers over Yumichika's arm as the latter lay nestled against his shoulder.
After several seconds, Yumichika spoke again. "It's been a long time since I've felt this happy."
"I'm glad I can make you happy," Mendalo replied. "But it bothers me to hear you say that. Have you been unhappy?"
Yumichika considered. The truth was that he hadn't planned to spend that evening with Mendalo. After the recent contention with Ikkaku, he had felt that he needed to spend time with Ikkaku, discuss what was happening between them. But Ikkaku had not returned to the officers' quarters after work. Yumichika was certain that he'd gone out drinking, and that would ruin any chance of talking to him rationally.
But the difficulty was that he was not dealing with Ikkaku's jealousy alone. He was also facing the outrage over what he had done that morning during the contest for third and fourth seat. It had been a foolish and dangerous thing to do. If anyone had been able to trace the burst of seductive reiatsu back to him, that would have spelled a quick end to his tenure as a member of Squad Eleven.
He wasn't even sure why he'd done it. Yes, it would have been humiliating for Ikkaku to be bumped down to fourth seat, but he still would have been serving under Zaraki. The chance to regain his seat at a later date would still be there. Then there had been Ikkaku's provocation, his downright rude behavior in trying to force Yumichika to fight Iba for a position that Yumichika didn't even want.
But perhaps more than anything else, his pride had played a part. He could have let things play out and been none the worse for it. Instead, he had used his reiatsu, knowing that only one person in that entire room would know immediately and definitively from whom it had emanated. He'd done it to remind Ikkaku of his power, to demonstrate that the next time Ikkaku wanted to put him on the spot and try to teach him a lesson, he'd better not forget that Yumichika had powers that were difficult to counter.
Of course, he regretted it now. The use of his reiatsu had backfired on him, and now he found himself, instead of waiting for Ikkaku's return, seeking solace in Mendalo's bed.
At last, he replied, "It's not really that I'm unhappy. It's just that . . . I miss Venla and the life I had there. I miss the way things used to be between me and Ikkaku."
"How did things used to be?"
"He used to be . . . a lot less angry than he is now," Yumichika replied. "We didn't argue as much. It was . . . like living in a perfect world for eighteen years."
"And then?" Mendalo prompted.
"Huh. Then the serpent showed up," Yumichika sighed, "Just like in the story from the living world . . . the first man and woman were tricked by the serpent and cast out of paradise. That's how it seemed . . . "
"Who was the serpent?"
Yumichika hesitated. "I can't tell you. That's between me and Ikkaku." He frowned. "But it was our own stupidity that cost us everything we had gained."
Mendalo looked down to see the furrowed brow and distant eyes. The subject was obviously a painful one for Yumichika, and yet Yumichika was the one who had brought it up.
"Eventually, that stupidity drove us both out of Venla, and things have never been the same since," Yumichika went on. "And once he met Zaraki . . . that changed his entire world."
"How did he meet Zaraki?" Mendalo asked.
"They met in a small, very poor village out in what I think must have been 80 east, though I'm not sure. Ikkaku challenged him to a fight—yes, I know that was stupid—anyway, he challenged him and he lost. But even after that, he still wanted to find him. He told me it was so he could fight him again and kill him. I thought that was ridiculous, but I went out to find Zaraki anyway—"
"Wait a minute, you knew Ikkaku would probably end up getting killed, but you went to find Zaraki anyway?" Mendalo asked, sounding perplexed.
"I had no choice," Yumichika replied. "Ikkaku would have left me behind if I hadn't done it—"
"Left you behind? Because you wouldn't help him find a guy who would probably end up killing him?" Now, a tinge of anger colored Mendalo's tone.
"There's a lot more to it that I'm leaving out, because it's just too . . . it's too hard to explain; but yes, he would have left me behind if I hadn't agreed to help him. And I wasn't willing to lose him," Yumichika explained hastily. "Anyway, after I met you, I went back and told Ikkaku about Zaraki joining the Gotei 13, and we set out. I thought he was still intent on fighting Zaraki again, but then he told me he wanted to join the Gotei 13 instead. He wanted to serve under Zaraki." He paused. "I wanted to be with him, so I knew that any chance of returning to Venla was gone at that point. Once we became Shinigami, that marked the end of any chance of going back to our previous life."
"So, the only reason you became a Shinigami was to stay with him," Mendalo concluded.
"Yes," Yumichika replied.
Mendalo was quiet for several seconds, prompting Yumichika to speak again.
"Do you think I made a mistake?"
"I don't know if you made a mistake or not," the sword smith replied, "But it seems you were meant to be a Shinigami one way or another."
"Why do you say that?" Yumichika asked, surprised.
"Only Shinigami have zanpakuto," Mendalo explained. "You had your zanpakuto way before you ever became a Shinigami, but here you are."
"Fuji Kujaku didn't want me to become a Shinigami, though," Yumichika pointed out. "He wanted to go back to Venla."
"And still, here you are," Mendalo persisted. "You see, it doesn't matter what you or Fuji Kujaku wants; the fate of a zanpakuto is to be wielded by a Shinigami. I will admit, it's strange that you were in contact with your zanpakuto before you became a Shinigami, but the bottom line is you became a Shinigami. You can't avoid fate."
Yumichika considered. "I just hate to think that I'm fated to this kind of life. There's nothing beautiful about Squad Eleven. There's nothing beautiful about the way they look or speak or fight—"
"Are you that miserable?" Mendalo queried. "I don't get the sense that you're quite as disgusted with them as you say you are."
"Of course, I'm disgusted, but it won't do any good to brood over it," Yumichika replied. "I have to accept it and try to fit in. It may not be what I'd like, but it's what I choose to do. I have to stay with Ikkaku." He pushed up onto one elbow. "He's very angry at me right now."
"Oh?"
"I did something at the squad this morning that . . . he got very angry."
"What happened?" Mendalo asked, rolling onto his side to face Yumichika.
"We have a new officer, and that officer wanted to challenge for the fourth seat. Captain Zaraki made him fight Ikkaku to see who would be third and who would be fourth. Ikkaku was about to lose, and I didn't want that to happen, so I . . . I used a little bit of my reiatsu to throw off his opponent. It worked, but Ikkaku was furious at me afterwards," Yumichika explained.
"He had a right to be," Mendalo defended Ikkaku in his absence.
"Why?" Yumichika asked with raised brow. "It wasn't a fair matchup to begin with, because Iba had shikai—"
"Iba? Tetsuzaemon? Is that who Madarame fought?"
"Yes. And he was about to win—"
"Iba is a good warrior. Even more than that, he's a good man. If he'd beaten Madarame fair and square, he would have deserved third seat," Mendalo pointed out. "You're the one who made it unfair by using your power to influence the outcome."
"Well, I did what I thought was necessary," Yumichika replied dismissively. "Either way, Ikkaku was angry that I used my reiatsu."
"And like I said, he had a right to be angry," Mendalo repeated.
"Okay." Yumichika was flippant. "On top of that, he's jealous."
"Of?"
"Of all the time you and I are spending together. He won't admit it, but I know he is," Yumichika stated.
"Am I taking away time you used to spend with him?" Mendalo asked.
"A little, maybe," Yumichika replied. "But it's not like we were doing anything . . . just sitting around."
"Maybe you should try sitting around with him a little more," Mendalo suggested. "After all, we have been together the past five nights."
Yumichika put his hand on the outer curve on Mendalo's thigh and caressed up along its length to his hip. "And every one of those nights has been . . . I feel . . . I feel wanted again. I feel beautiful again. I don't want to lose that."
"Sex isn't a drug, Yumichika," Mendalo grinned.
"It's not the sex," Yumichika countered. "I just want to feel . . . like I mean something to someone."
Mendalo nodded slowly. He put his hand behind Yumichika's head and drew him into a kiss, then as their lips parted, he whispered, "You would still mean something to me even without the sex."
It was the truth.
Interesting. Yes, this was very interesting, indeed.
The dozen or so swords that had not been blown to bits in the explosion still had appropriate levels of reiatsu. It appeared that only the damaged swords had lost their potency. That meant that something in the breaking of the metal had loosened the spirit energy of the zanpakuto and someone or something had been waiting to gather it up and whisk it away.
The reiatsu trail of the perpetrator had not contained any elements of zanpakuto energy; therefore, however the energy was removed and transported, it had not leaked out and left a trail of its own.
And the perpeptrator's trail ended in Seventy West. So, either the villain had the means to cover his own reiatsu or the reiatsu had simply faded by the time the incompetent idiots of Squad Two had reached the end of the trail, leaving Squad Ten and then Eleven to try and pick it up again.
Either way, it was not a matter of importance. What was more meaningful was that somewhere out in Soul Society there was a concentration of Asauchi spirit energy. The combined energy of over 400 hundred swords should be fairly intense, despite the weakness of each individual weapon. And such an energy should be readily detectable. Only, it wasn't.
Captain Kurotsuchi left the shambles of the destroyed forge and walked the short distance to the temporary forge. Here, two of the transient sword smiths were working alongside one of the Gotei 13's permanent sword makers.
Mayuri approached the latter. "Heykibi, come across the street with me. I have some questions pertaining to the investigation."
Heykibi, a stout, no-nonsense man with a horse-shoe ring of black hair around a red, shiny dome of sweat-dappled baldness, regarded the Squad Twelve captain with little interest. He was one of a very few who was not intimidated by the captain's reputation for cruelty.
"I'm busy," he grunted, rolling his cotton sleeves up even further to reveal the strong arms of a man who made his living at labor.
"It will only take a minute," Kurotsuchi persisted, employing his best effort at politeness.
Heykibi straightened up, threw off his work gloves, and turned to the two other smithies. "I won't be long." With that, he led the way out of the building to the ruins of the old forge. He stopped on the threshold. "What are your questions?"
Mayuri was still in polite mode. "These zanpakuto weren't destroyed in the explosion," he began. "Their reiatsu is still intact."
"Yes. So?"
"But the ones that were broken. They lost their reiatsu," Mayuri went on. "I know a broken zanpakuto can lose some of its reiatsu, but these ones lost all of theirs. I wonder why that is?"
Heykibi shrugged. "They may not have had much to begin with. The explosion may have been so violent that it dispersed a lot of reiatsu. Look, it blew a lot of zanpakuto into millions of pieces of shrapnel."
"But it wasn't strong enough to damage the adjacent buildings, so I think it couldn't have been that violent an explosion," Mayuri observed. "And look at the blast mark . . . the investigators noticed this earlier, but I'm only now curious about it. The crater radiates out from this spot on the floor. The debris pattern is almost perfectly circular, taking into account the presence of walls and such. Yet, all the zanpakuto over on the far wall are only minimally damaged, probably by taking hits from the destroyed zanpakuto."
"So?"
"It looks to me as if the bomber didn't toss in a grenade or something in order to just cause damage. If that were the case, we'd have a very different debris pattern based on where the zanpakuto were lying when the explosion took place. Instead, we have a uniform circular pattern. Whoever did this piled the zanpakuto together and then detonated the explosive. The purpose of the explosion wasn't to disable the forge; it was to destroy zanpakuto." Kurotsuchi walked over to the furnace itself. "You see, nothing over here is damaged. The molds, the furnace, the anvils, the tools . . . all of this is still intact. Maybe a little pitted and scarred, but still usable."
"We can't use them," Heykibi stated. "We've been told not to touch anything at the scene until the investigation is completed."
"That's not my point. My point is that this whole side of the room – and these completed zanpakuto over on this rack . . . none of this was touched. The bomber's aim was not to destroy the forge but to destroy the zanpakuto. Apparently, he didn't have time to get all the swords on the pile before he had to use the explosive." A pause. "And that's where I need some answer from you. If a zanpakuto is broken and reforged, can it regain the reiatsu it lost?"
"To a certain degree," Heykibi replied. "It depends on the zanpakuto and the amount of reiatsu lost."
"Let's use these Asauchi as the example. Can this level of destruction still permit for the replenishment of lost reiatsu?"
"These zanpakuto cannot be reforged," Heykibi said. "All that can be done is to melt down the pieces and create new ones. So, the question of restoring their reiatsu doesn't even come into play."
"You swordsmiths know how to imbue spirit energy into these weapons when they are nothing but hunks of metal. It's part of your art," Mayuri said. "Where do you get the spirit energy that you use to infuse into the zanpakuto?"
"I couldn't tell you where it comes from," Heykibi replied. "There are incantations that we use to bring it forth, but it doesn't always work."
"So, you have no means by which to collect reiatsu in order to use it in the creation of a zanpakuto," Mayuri suggested.
"A way to collect reiatsu? I don't know if such a thing exists at all," came the doubtful answer.
"Where do you think all the spirit energy from these destroyed zanpakuto went?" Mayuri asked.
Heykibi shrugged. "I imagine it just got dispersed on the air."
"Do you have a record of each zanpakuto made here?"
"Of course. They're kept in the office behind the water vats."
Mayuri looked at the water vats, still perfectly intact. That meant the office was probably undamaged, as well. "Bring them to me."
"They're huge books—"
"I only want the books that contain the most recent zanpakutos, the ones destroyed in the explosion."
Heykibi scowled but did as he was told. "I don't know what you expect to find. These are just production records."
"Maybe I won't find anything." Mayuri grinned – an altogether sinister thing. "Maybe I will."
Ikkaku leaped forward with a shout of excitement. His opponent engaged him with equal enthusiasm.
They had been battling each other for . . . he wasn't even sure how many hours had passed. Time seemed to have no meaning in this world. The only thing that mattered here was the fight, and his opponent was certainly more than capable of bringing it to him.
They'd moved beyond the cave, emerging into a deep, lush jungle, and here the combat continued.
"You're not bad, partner," the being stated. "You're nowhere near what you could be, but you're not bad."
"Neither are you," Ikkaku replied.
Hoozukimaru lowered his sword. "Ahhh, we can grow stronger together," he said with anticipation.
"I have to know your name first," Ikkaku said.
"I'll tell you what. The first time you defeat me, I'll tell you," came the reply "So, it's all up to you."
"No problem," Ikkaku said dismissively.
"Says you," Hoozukimaru shot back, raising his weapon and lunging forward.
Ikkaku parried and jumped aside. "You like to fight dirty," he sneered.
"Huh, I'm a reflection of your soul," Hoozukimaru laughed.
Ikkaku grinned maniacally. "Perfect!"
They engaged again, their battle carrying them further into the jungle, up steep inclines and into deep valleys, across streams and along cliff edges. They fought in parity the whole way, both of them lost in the thrill of combat.
Hoozukimaru taunted Ikkaku every step of the way, and Ikkaku responded in like kind. But then the zanpakuto spirit said something that caught Ikkaku off-guard.
"Why didn't you listen to me all those other times?"
"What other times?" Ikkaku asked.
"You know that was my voice." Hoozukimaru lowered his weapon.
"I didn't know what it was—"
"I told you I was your zanpakuto. You didn't believe me. You were so jealous of little pretty that you refused to believe your own senses," the dragon chided.
"Little pretty?"
"Ayasegawa."
"Yumichika? How—how do you know about Yumichika?"
"If you see it or hear it, so do I," Hoozukimaru replied.
Ikkaku was perplexed. "How is that possible?"
"How would I know? I just know what I can do," came the reply. "I don't give much thought to how or why."
Ikkaku nodded appreciatively. "My way of thinking exactly." A pause. "So, what do you know about Yumichika?"
"I know that unless you get serious about training, you're never going to surpass him," Hoozukimaru stated. "And I know you're jealous of him, even though you shouldn't be. It's your own fault you haven't progressed as far as he has."
"What do you mean, I haven't progressed as far as he has?!" Ikkaku accused. "I'm stronger than he is, better with a sword, better at—"
"You're nowhere near as far along as he is with relation to your zanpakuto," the dragon interjected. "He's known his weapon for years. They've grown together for years. You're only beginning. But if you want to overtake him—"
"The only one whose skill I want to match is Kenpachi Zaraki," Ikkaku said emphatically. "As for Yumichika—"
"As for Yumichika, you know he'll always defer to you, and maybe that's the way you like it, but you being a guy who goes around touting his own strength, you know that he can defeat you any time he wants – and easily." Hoozukimaru saw the look on his master's face. "I know what his powers are. Believe me, his zanpakuto is just as seductive as he is."
"You know Fuji Kujaku?"
The false name raised the dragon's hackles, but he would not contradict it. That was a matter better left to Ruri'iro Kujaku and his master.
"I know him," Hoozukimaru replied. "And he's a lot more powerful than you realize. But that doesn't change things with you and me. You need to get stronger, partner. A lot stronger. I don't mind if little pretty can take you – he's got unconventional methods, but I'll be damned if the rest of these . . . weaklings are going to surpass my master. But you're going to have to show me a lot more than what I'm seeing now."
As a rallying call, it was effective. Ikkaku nodded resolutely. "Make it worth my while, and I'll show you what I've got."
"It's snowing again!"
Despite Yumichika's excited proclamation, Mendalo was not as sanguine.
"You really want to walk home in this? Look, it's almost two o'clock in the morning, it's snowing . . . why not just stay here?"
"Because I need to be there in the morning, so Ikkaku will see that I didn't stay out all night again," Yumichika replied. "Besides, I love the snow!"
"Do you think it makes a difference if you're there in the morning when you only got home at two?" Mendalo pressed.
"Yes!" Yumichika smiled. "To Ikkaku, it will make a difference."
Mendalo heaved a sigh of concession. "Okay, then I'll walk with you – unless you're going to use flashstep."
"In this? No, I want to enjoy every step," Yumichika replied. "How can you be so dull? Look at how beautiful it is."
"You're crazy."
Mendalo dressed and they stepped out together. Despite the snow falling, the air didn't feel so cold, and after twenty minutes of walking, they had built up enough body heat that the night felt pleasant.
"I wish you could see Venla and how magical the mountains looked in the snow," Yumichika said wistfully as they entered the squad eleven area. "By February, the trees were covered with ice. They looked like crystal. All the mountain streams were frozen solid, even the cascades. It was peaceful and quiet and . . .
"It sounds cold," Mendalo quipped. "It's all nice as long as you have a warm fire to escape to."
"You know, in all the years I lived in Venla, all the winters on the mountain, there was something I never got to do," Yumichika said.
"What was that?" Mendalo asked.
Off to their right just inside the squad eleven main gate was an ornamental garden, at least twelve inches deep in undisturbed snow. The garden was bound on the east side by the outer wooden wall of the squad perimeter; on the north and south walls by administrative offices, and on the west side by a wide path that led from the main gate through the interior courtyard, splitting it in half, on the far western end of which was the main training hall.
Yumichika took hold of Mendalo's hand and plunged forward into the snow. He forded his way across the waves of snow, humming some unrecognizable tune as he went.
"What are you doing?" Mendalo laughed, slogging along behind him.
When he was at least twenty yards off the pathway, Yumichika stopped. Releasing Mendalo's hand, he turned to face him. "I've never made love in the snow."
For a moment, Mendalo was speechless. But when he found his voice, he didn't know whether he was thrilled or mortified. "In the snow? We'll freeze to death."
"No."
"Someone might see us. We're right here in the middle of the squad area," Mendalo deferred.
"It's late. It's snowing. No one's out," Yumichika said, bracing himself against a tree as he removed his heavy winter moccasins. He cast off his hanten and undid his obi, letting it slither through his fingers where it was lost in the snow. He shrugged off the black kosode and white shitagi, which fell to the ground around his feet. And then slowly and deliberately, without ever taking his eyes from Mendalo's, he loosened the ties on his hakama and let it drop. The fundoshi was last, and he stood completely naked in the snow.
The snow flakes melted against the warmth of his body, turning into droplets of water which drew glistening lines as they ran down the porcelain skin.
"You're not going to let a little snow stop you, are you?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.
Mendalo came closer, but when he reached out, Yumichika leaned away, falling purposefully onto his back in the snow, the sound of his laughter like a siren's song, erotic and irresistible.
Mendalo forgot about the cold, stripped off his clothes in seconds, and dropped down on top of him. The contrasting feeling of the warm body and the cold snow made him tingle from head to foot. But even more rapturous was the intensity of Yumichika's passion. Clearly, this was something he had long desired, and he was set on getting every bit of enjoyment out of the experience.
Lying deep in the snow, the cold made Yumichika shiver, but this only added to both men's anticipation and lent to the moment a hint of desperation. Mendalo drew one of Yumichika's legs up over his shoulder and tilted his pelvis up. It was the position they both preferred, for it not only allowed them to maintain eye contact but the pressure of such a tight fit had the effect of rushing both men to the brink and delivering the most powerful release.
Mendalo slid inside his lover with strength and rapid zeal.
Beneath him, Yumichika put a hand out. "Slowly. . . go slowly."
Mendalo wondered if Yumichika had any idea just how hard it was to fulfill that request. Between them, Yumichika's own erection was full and hard, twitching with each spasm of pleasure. Mendalo, in a moment of playful mischief, grabbed a handful of snow and rubbed it into Yumichika's privates – which, at the moment, were not private at all. "You need to slow down, too!"
The shock jerked Yumichika upright, but Mendalo had anticipated this and held him at arm's length. "You'll break me in half if you do that!" he warned with humor in his voice.
"You—you bastard!" Yumichika accused through his own laughter. "You want me to get frostbite?"
"You won't get frostbite," Mendalo assured him, wrapping his finger around the offended flesh and kneading gently. "Just lie back . . . and enjoy yourself."
Yumichika relaxed. He stretched his arms above his head in a calculated pose of defenselessness. He closed his eyes and indulged the feeling of increasing tension as Mendalo continued to massage his erection while moving with slow clock-work precision in and out, agonizingly hitting every sensitive spot with just the right intensity to prolong the love-making to the point where Yumichika felt as if every muscle in his body had turned to liquid.
Mendalo, despite his initial reluctance at the idea of having a romp in the snow, now found himself in the middle of the most erotic experience he had ever known. Watching the expressions that crossed Yumichika's face, hearing his gasps and groans of increasing pleasure, seeing and feeling him writhe and twist – almost as if to escape the arousal being visited upon him – Mendalo did not want this encounter to end.
He withdrew fully, bringing a choked cry from Yumichika's lips, quickly muffled as he lay down on top of him and covered his mouth with his own.
"W-why did you s-stop?" Yumichika stammered between devouring kisses.
Mendalo whispered in his ear, "Do you trust me?"
It was a strange question to ask after how they'd been spending the last five days.
"Well . . . yes."
Mendalo sat up. "No, I mean . . . do you trust me?" He held up one hand, and in it was Yumichika's discarded obi.
Now, Yumichika understood.
"I remember, the first time we met, it terrified you," Mendalo said. "I don't want that to happen again."
Yumichika did not have to consider for long. He did trust Mendalo, and the truth was that he wanted to see if he had overcome all the terrible shadows of the past. It might even be something he could enjoy if done with the right person.
"You only want to tie me up, right?" he asked.
"I won't hurt you."
"You'd better not," Yumichika grinned. "Remember, I'm a Shinigami now. That little piece of cloth won't be enough to hold me if you get out of line . . . "
"I won't get out of line," Mendalo said, kissing him tenderly.
Yumichika looked him in the eye, holding the gaze for longer than usual. He nodded and spoke with quiet certitude. "I trust you."
Mendalo got to his feet and pulled Yumichika up with him. He trounced through the snow less than fifteen feet to where a birch tree stood. He turned Yumichika's back to him and sat down with his own back against the tree. As he sat, he carefully guided Yumichika down, penetrating him as he did so. The depth of the insertion, made all the more intense by Yumichika's own weight bearing him down, almost brought Yumichika instantly to climax. He was ready, and he wanted it very badly. He put his hands on Mendalo's knees and attempted to push himself up, to create the motion on his own that would send him over the edge.
But behind him, Mendalo, put his hands on his shoulders and pressed him down. "Don't move," he whispered. He drew Yumichika's hands behind his back and bound them together with one end of the obi.
"But I—I'm r-ready," Yumichika gasped, followed by small moans of exertion wrought by teetering at the very brink. He was too lost in the sensations of his body to even notice his hands now secured behind him. Just two or three small movements would bring him.
"Stay still," Mendalo repeated. "We're going to make this last." With those words, he reached around with the obi in front of Yumichika and, operating by touch only, tied the remaining length of cloth tightly around the base of his penis.
This caught Yumichika's attention. "Wh-what are you d-doing?" he said, barely able to manage the words, his entire body now straining for release.
"This will keep you from coming," Mendalo replied, "At least for a little while." He pulled the knot tighter.
"But—but—"
"You let me know if it hurts." Mendalo placed one hand, fingers splayed, over Yumichika's throat, drawing his head back onto his shoulder. "You just enjoy the ride." With his other hand, he went to work on his lover's bound erection, running a finger back and forth over the tip, changing to a circular direction, and then gently massaging between thumb and forefinger.
Yumichika had never known such ecstasy. Or such agony. Every fiber of his being was poised, even yearning to be catapulted into the fullness of the arousal his body was undergoing. And yet, the constriction placed upon him was highly effective at preventing culmination. Mendalo's fingers on his throat, applying light but firm pressure, kept his gaze pointed at the sky, where all he could see was the continuing rain of snowflakes. He could not see any of the things being done to his body, and this left him focusing only on the intensity of touch.
And that, alone, was driving him closer and closer to losing control.
Each time he tried to generate movement against the fullness inside him, he was held in tantalizing place by the sword smith's strong hands.
"You'll hurt yourself if you try to come while that tie is on," Mendalo warned him. "Do as I said and try to relax. I'll know when it's time to take it off."
A spasm rippled through Yumichika's body. "Y-you're t-torturing m-me," he gasped, but his voice was filled with the floating tenor of one lost in rapture.
"Do you want me to stop?" he teased, already knowing the answer.
"No," Yumichika whispered.
"Good . . . cause we haven't even started yet."
Ikkaku opened his eyes.
Iba was sitting across from him.
"What—what? You're still here . . . " Ikkaku stammered. He felt as if he were awaking from a deep sleep.
"Still here," Iba replied. "It's been eight hours. That's a long time for a first meeting between a Shinigami and his zanpakuto."
Ikkaku shook his head as if to clear it.
"I take it you were successful making contact," Iba assumed.
Ikkaku nodded. "You can say that again."
"Were you able to control the interaction?" Iba asked.
"More or less," Ikkaku replied.
"And he was respectful of you?"
"More or less," Ikkaku repeated. "He's . .. not what I expected."
"What did you expect?" Iba queried, cocking his head to one side.
"Something . . . less animalistic."
This statement made Iba snigger lightly. "Animalistic? That sounds fitting for you."
"To be honest . . . he was fitting. Even though he isn't what I imagined, he was even better," Ikkaku said. "We battled almost the entire time, and we were evenly matched. But he finally defeated me and kicked me out." A smile crossed his face. "I can't wait for the chance to go against him again."
"It sounds like you're off to a good start. And to be able to enter on your first try – that's impressive."
Ikkaku nodded once. "And I have you to thank for that." He got to his feet.
Iba also rose. "I should probably be present for your next attempt, as well."
"How does tomorrow sound? Same time."
"Sounds good," Iba acknowledged.
"Heading back?" Ikkaku asked, walking towards the door.
"Yep," Iba answered, pulling on his hanten.
Opening the door, Ikkaku made a hooting sound. "It's snowing again."
Iba joined him on the threshold. "Wow, it's really coming down." He looked at Ikkaku. "You're going to freeze."
"Ha! The cold doesn't bother me," Ikkaku replied, although this was a lie.
"Maybe you already have ice in your veins," Iba stated with a wry inflection.
"Definitely."
They began walking.
Mendalo remained inside Yumichika as he rolled his lover into the snow. He knelt behind him, gripping Yumichika's hips and drawing his pelvis up to maintain the deep insertion. Yumichika, hands and penis still bound, lay face-down in the snow like an unstrung puppet, gasping and moaning.
"P-please . . . please . . . f-finish me," he begged, his voice thin and quaking. "I can't t-take anymore."
But instead of speeding his motion, Mendalo began to withdraw – slowly, by pushing Yumichika's hips forward until he was completely clear. "I think you can take a lot more," he countered in a husky voice. "I think this kind of game is what you're made for." With that, he pulled Yumichika towards him again, gradually pushing inside once more, only an inch or two deep; then pushing him away again, just as gradually. He continued to repeat this movement, stoking his own already pounding erection.
Beneath him, Yumichika could no longer move. His muscles had turned to mud. The strength of the sensations being wrought upon his body was such that it was overtaking his self-control, burying his sense of reason in the ravages of passion. He hardly knew where he was anymore; he was only aware that his body was being carefully manipulated in the most rapturous manner, and that he was at the mercy of a man who actually knew better than he did, how to coax a body to the highest levels of pleasure.
"Do you like that? Do you want more?" Mendalo whispered, his voice falling somewhere between a taunt and a threat, and it had the effect of further increasing Yumichika's arousal.
"Y-yes," Yumichika replied, a shudder rattling his entire body. "F-faster . . . please, g-go faster. And—and d-deeper."
"Like this?" Mendalo quickened the movement, but only slightly.
"Deeper . . . faster," Yumichika pleaded.
"Oh, it's not time yet. It's too soon," Mendalo whispered. "I need to slow you down." With that, he pulled out completely again as Yumichika cried out in protest.
Mendalo grinned. "No, no. No complaints." He turned Yumichika onto his back and straddled his shoulders.
"Open your mouth."
Yumichika did as commanded, and in the next moment, he felt silky flesh against his tongue, then his entire mouth was filled with the warmth and fullness of his lover's manhood. He relished the feel and taste of Mendalo's most coveted prize, and he worked vigorously to indulge every inch of the iron-hard flesh. With his hands bound, he was nothing more than a receptacle; yet, even so, he knew how to use his mouth to reduce a man's will to tatters in a matter of seconds. Mendalo was no exception. No matter how deeply the sword smith delved, Yumichika was able to take him.
For Yumichika, being forced to perform orally on Mendalo, a man for whom he had warm and passionate feelings, was scintillating. The mirage of his own helplessness was strangely exciting. He had never imagined, after what had befallen him in Mito, that he would ever take joy in being bound and helpless. But this night was proving that he had moved beyond the fear. He trusted Mendalo. And it was also the case that he was not truly rendered powerless. His strength had grown such that he could snap the bonds around his wrists in an instant. But he liked feeling as if he were at the mercy of his lover; and he knew Mendalo would do everything in his power to heighten the experience.
Mendalo watched Yumichika's display of oral prowess, and it occurred to him that he wasn't just looking at another sex partner. The quality that made this encounter so much greater than those he had known previously was that his feelings for Yumichika were not simply those of utility or sexual satisfaction. In a few days, he had grown deeply fond of a man who was unlike any other man he had ever known – an odd combination of masculine and feminine characteristics; a gentle nature sharing the same body with a preening, egotistical peacock; a sultry, worldly male siren with the naiveté of a child.
And he wanted nothing more than to please this man in every way possible, including stretching this experience out as long as he could. He drew back as Yumichika craned his neck, straining after him, mouth agape, his breath rising in glistening crystals.
Yumichika opened his eyes to see Mendalo getting to his feet.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
Mendalo walked quickly over to where the rest of their clothes were lying in the snow. He came back quickly with his own obi.
"Were you afraid I'd leave you teetering on the edge?" he teased, dropping down and rolling Yumichika onto his side.
"I was . . . I was enjoying the f-feel of you in my mouth," Yumichika breathed.
Mendalo grinned. "So was I." He untied Yumichika's wrists.
"Why are you—why are you untying me?"
Now, Mendalo's grin broadened into a seductive smile of his own. "You liked it?"
Yumichika nodded.
"Well not to worry. It's not over yet," Mendalo assured him. Using his own obi, he bound Yumichika's wrists again, this time in front of him. Then, in a moment of wicked humor, he picked him up into his arms and headed for a snow drift that had built up at least four feet deep against the wall of a frozen fountain.
Knowing what he had planned, Yumichika resisted. "Don't you dare! Don't—don't even think about it!"
"You're the one who wanted to make love in the snow! You're the one who likes the cold!" Mendalo reminded him, then swinging him once, he called out, "One!" A second time. "Two!"
Yumichika flailed with his legs, eluding Mendalo's hold, before the count of three could be reached . But Mendalo was not about to give in. He forced Yumichika down on his front, then he took the end of the obi that was still bound around the base of his penis and used it to truss his ankles together, pulling it taut and effectively ending any struggle.
"You bastard!" Yumichika cried with laughter as Mendalo picked him up one more time.
The sword smith tossed him into the drift, where he disappeared from sight.
But even as he vanished, his voice did not. He could be heard laughing and cursing somewhere deep in the snow.
"Should I come in and get you?" Mendalo asked.
"You—you'd better!" Yumichika demanded, though it was not much of a threat. His muffled voice diminished any authority he might have been trying to assert.
"Hmmm . . . let's see," Mendalo hemmed. "What will you let me do to you if I rescue you?"
"What—what will I let you do?! You're already doing everything you want!" Yumichika cried.
"Now, that's true," Mendalo agreed. "Well then, I guess I should just go home."
"Don't you dare! Get me out of here!"
Mendalo shrugged to no one but himself. "Okay, if you say so. Here I come." He dove into the snow drift, finding himself surrounded in unseeing darkness. He began scrabbling through the snow almost as if he were swimming. "Say something so I can find you."
"You're doing this just to drive me crazy!" Yumichika scolded. "It's not that big a snow drift! Just get me out!" At that moment, a hand brushed against his side, and in the cold closeness of the drift, he was suddenly engulfed in the limbs of his lover, who was kissing him wildly, running his hands over every inch of goose-bumped flesh, sucking and teething the pricked nipples, parting the clenched buttocks to expose the raw, tender opening directly to the icy cold of the snow.
Yumichika was caught between laughing and crying. "S-stop it! You're p-playing g-games with m-me!"
"And what a lot of fun it is," Mendalo replied, sliding his hand between Yumichika's legs and fondling his sack.
Yumichika flinched.
"Don't try to get away," Mendalo warned. "One pull on this—" he tugged the obi, "—and you might end up really hurting yourself. Now, let me do as I please." He bent Yumichika's knees up, then parted them, pressing them down to the sides. He felt his way with his mouth down Yumichika's abdomen, coming to the coarse bed of pubic hair, which he tugged at with his teeth, bringing moans of painful delight from his lover. He bypassed the twitching penis and found the object of his search, soft, rounded, heavy in his mouth. And here he stayed, intent on savoring his unfettered access.
"What's that sound? Do you hear that?"
Iba had asked the question as he and Ikkaku walked down the path, rapidly growing deeper in snow, that split the courtyard of the main squad eleven administrative area.
No sooner had Iba spoken, then Ikkaku heard it, too.
Laughter.
And muffled voices.
Oh shit . . .
One voice Ikkaku recognized immediately, despite its indistinct words and its distance away.
"Someone's in the garden," Iba said, turning in the direction. "Look, there are footprints going off that way. They're practically filled with snow again, but—"
"Sounds like two people just having some fun," Ikkaku interjected, trying to get Iba moving again.
"But after what happened with the explosion, don't you think we ought to take a look?" Iba pressed.
"Not in this case," Ikkaku replied. "Listen, they're laughing and . . . well, let's just leave them alone."
"I think we need to check it out—" Iba was about to take a step into the deeper snow, but Ikkaku stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Look . . . I'll, uh, I'll check it out," he said. "I . . . I know one of those voices, and I don't want anyone to be embarrassed. You go on. I'll handle it."
"But—"
"Don't make me give you an order," Ikkaku frowned. "Believe me, it's not anything threatening. Just . . . stupid."
Iba sighed then nodded curtly. "But if you're not back in quarters in fifteen minutes, I'm coming to make sure everything's alright."
"Fair enough."
With that, Iba continued on his way.
And Ikkaku grimaced into the darkness before taking a step off the path and towards the garden.
Five minutes Mendalo had labored; and he had been rewarded with Yumichika's wrenching, writhing struggle for self-control, maintained only by the knotted obi. But it was time now. He stood up and carried Yumichika out of the drift, setting him down close to another birch tree, this one a young growth with a skinny trunk of flaky, paper-thin white bark.
"Are you ready?" he asked, stretching Yumichika's arms above his head and tying them off to the base of the trunk.
"I've b-been ready." Even through chattering teeth, Yumcihika somehow managed to sound sultry and wanton. "Y-you'd better hurry, b-because I-I'm going to explode s-soon."
"That's what you said thirty minutes ago," Mendalo teased. "But it's time. Me first."
He unbound Yumichika's ankles, spread his legs and pulled him to the full length of the obi holding his wrists. Then he crawled on his hands until he was face-to-face with him. He kissed him gently half a dozen times. As he drew back, he saw the look of anticipatory bliss on Yumichika's face, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, lips tremblilng.
"Yumichika, look at me for a second."
Yumichika opened his eyes. The pools of violet were as dangerous as any unfathomed sea.
"This might hurt a little," Mendalo began. "But I promise, it will be worth it. I have to keep you from coming."
Yumichika could only nod, not having any idea what Mendalo was proposing.
"You tell me if it hurts too badly, and I'll make it stop," Mendalo said.
"H-hurry," was all Yumichika could say, and then a spasm wracked his body, battling for release.
Mendalo bent over and covered Yumichika's mouth with his own. At the same time, he reached down with both hands and grasped the end of the obi in one hand and the slip knot in the other. With a rapid, fluid movement, he drew the knot tighter.
Yumichika shrieked into Mendalo's mouth and bucked against the pain. The natural reaction to lower his arms in protection met with the resistance of the ties binding him to the tree, but he had the presence of mind not to break free, preferring to prolong the very act that he had been pleading for to come to conclusion.
"Keep kissing me—just focus on kissing me," Mendalo whispered. "The pain will go away in a few seconds. Just keep kissing me."
Yumichika did his best to follow Mendalo's instruction, but he could scarcely draw breath. And then, after thirty seconds, just as Mendalo had said, the pain faded into a dull throbbing.
"One more time."
Yumichika had not even processed Mendalo's words before the tie around his penis was once again drawn tighter, and this time, it brought tears to Yumichika's eyes, although he could manage no sound other than a strangled gurgle. The pain of this garroting also took much longer to subside, during which Mendalo moved back down between Yumichika's outstretched legs, drawing them both up over his shoulders. He leaned back, and using the cleft of Yumichika's buttocks to guide him, slid down until he found the small indentation. He probed once, only an inch if that, causing Yumichika to buck and flail.
But Mendalo had anticipated this and had Yumichika's legs quickly under control, and then he went steadily inside. Not fast, not slow. He went at a speed meant to give himself maximum pleasure, and as he buried himself inside his gasping, quaking lover, the very image of subjugated beauty, he wished he could even further prolong this incredible sight. But looking at Yumichika, he knew it was not possible. Yumichika would be ruined for good if Mendalo let his own selfishness take over.
He began moving in and out, slowly at first, then increasing in speed, until each thrust had the force of a battering ram, forcing a cry to erupt from Yumichika's lungs with every pulse. He drove harder and deeper and faster, never taking his eye from the face of his lover, contorted with the intoxicating mixture of arousal, pain and desperation.
Was there anyone—anything—in all of existence that could rival this man's ability to seduce?
But Yumichika, for his own part, had long since stopped trying to seduce on purpose. Any hint of seduction that Mendalo was experiencing now was the result of Yumichika's natural attractions.
The moment the tie had gone on him, Yumichika had been sinking ever deeper into the role of the one being taken. And it was a role that he was finding almost hypnotic.
He wanted to climb whatever heights were available to him, and Mendalo seemed more than willing to take him there. The feel of the sword smith, tight inside him, moving over the spot that could bring him – would have brought him by now, except for the knot binding him – the jarring, jolting, brutal pounding, the friction of skin against skin, the sound, the smell, the cloth around his wrists growing tighter when each pull and jam, the freezing cold of the snow against his back . . .
The knot was not going to hold him.
Almost as if reading his mind at that very same moment, Mendalo yanked it tighter. Yumichika went stiff against the pain. Mendalo emptied himself into his lover. Yumichika felt the warmth inside him, and as it filled him, it seemed to melt the rigidity and his muscles went limp.
Mendalo waited a while before withdrawing.
"Your turn now," he said. He stretched Yumichika out once again, took him in his mouth and went to work. He licked and lapped and sucked then crawled up his body, kissing him as he went. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," Yumichika said, his voice barely even a whisper. He was shaking uncontrollably.
"One last thing . . . try not to hurt me," Mendalo smiled, as he positioned himself astride Yumichika's waist, facing his feet. He raised up on his knees, reached beneath him with one hand to grasp Yumichika's penis, which he held steady as he lowered himself slowly onto it.
Immediately, Yumichika began to spasm. The angle he was at intensified the contact, sending him into a fit of sensation, unable to release. Atop him, Mendalo leaned forward slightly to increase the friction. He reached beneath Yumichika and inserted the fingers of one hand, massaging gently.
And then he began the movement of his own body up and down. When Yumichika tried to control the movement himself, Mendalo pressed him down. "No, no, we're going to do this my way." For nearly five minutes, the sword maker took Yumichika in and out, and then he began moving rapidly. He removed his fingers from inside him and pulled loose the slip knot.
Mendalo was not sure what happened next. He didn't have to make a move for Yumichika to erupt violently; he felt the first dozen or so thrusts, powerful to throw him off balance. He teetered on his knees for several seconds, the sounds of Yumichika's choked screams still loud enough to raise fear of being heard. Then something knocked him face down into the snow in a flash of blue-green light. A wave of erotic potency swept over him, smothering him for several seconds in a sea of ravenous hunger. He pushed up on his hands and knees, turned his head to see Yumichika lying panting in the snow, frequent spasms rattling his body; and he felt a burning urgency to . . . possess and . . . consume him. But then, the hunger started to fade, leaving him bewildered yet feeling more fulfilled than he had felt only seconds earlier, before the flash of light.
He crawled over to Yumichika.
"Yumichika?" he said softly, rubbing his palms against the pale cheeks.
Several seconds passed, then Yumichika's eyes fluttered open. As his vision cleared, an almost imperceptible smile curled his lips. "Wow."
Mendalo freed his wrists and helped him sit up. "You're still shaking."
"That was . . . that was . . . " Yumichika's voice was thin, the trailing remnant of ecstasy.
"Good?" Mendalo finished the sentence, kissing his temple.
"Amazing," Yumichika corrected.
"You make it easy to create amazement," Mendalo remarked. "And I have to tell you, I was blown away - literally." He paused. "What was that?"
"What was . . . what?" Yumichika asked.
"That flash of light," Mendalo replied.
"Light?"
"When you came, there was a burst of bluish light, and then . . . I felt like I—I wanted to . . . to devour you. It passed over me and then it faded," Mendalo explained. "It was your reiatsu, wasn't it?"
"I think so," Yumichika whispered feebly. "I felt . . . I felt like my spirit energy exploded into a—a million pieces."
"Well, it was an incredible feeling passing over, but . . . dangerous," Mendalo admitted. "Something I'll have to keep in mind for next time."
"Next time?" Yumichika gave a weak laugh. "Next time will kill me."
"I would never let that happen," Mendalo assured him. "Come on, we'd better get dressed and get you back to your room. I hope no one heard you."
"Was I loud?"
"Uhh . . . a little, yes. But it's also possible that other people may have felt that wave of your reiatsu, as well." A pause. "Can you sit up while I go get our clothes?"
"Mm-hm."
Mendalo retrieved the garment and returned to Yumichika who was unsteadily on his feet. He helped him dress then put on his own clothes. Right away, Yumichika leaned against him, and it was clear he was going to need support, which Mendalo happily provided, putting his arm around his waist.
"This is embarrassing," Yumichika said self-consciously. "I'm a Shinigami. I shouldn't—shouldn't be wiped out by sex."
"I'm glad you were," Mendalo smiled. "Stokes my ego." He chuckled. "Besides, I think you have a higher sexual sensitivity to begin with, so it's only right that you would react with greater . . . vigor."
"I'm glad you knew what you were doing," Yumichika stated in a tired voice. "You, uh . . . you've done that a lot before?"
"A few times."
"A lot."
Mendalo nodded. "A lot. But never like that before. That was the most incredible experience of my entire life."
Yumichika raised his eyes to meet Mendalo's. "Mine, too."
They left the garden for the officers' quarters.
As they passed through the archway that separated the administrative buildings from the living compound, a lone figure emerged from his hiding place behind one of the garden's larger trees.
Ikkaku waited until they were completely out of sight before allowing himself the luxury of a heavy exhalation. He'd been afraid that the burst of Yumichika's reiatsu might rob him of his senses and expose him. But unlike Yumichika's purposeful seductive assault on him in Guckoo, this had been a brief, insanely intense surge of sexual enticement, after which Ikkaku had immediately sensed a marked reduction in the level of reiatsu he normally felt from Yumichika. Clearly, the sexual climax had drained a considerable amount of his reiatsu.
And fortunately, during the activity, Yumichika had been so engrossed in the sensuality of it all, that he apparently had not even noticed Ikkaku's presence – a rare thing, considering his sensitivity to Ikkaku's reiatsu.
But now Ikkaku was alone, the snow falling around him, silence settling over the night. He was shaking but not from the cold. What he had just witnessed was churning in his stomach, tying his insides in knots. He wasn't even sure precisely what he was angry about. It was clear that Mendalo was not forcing Yumichika to do anything against his will; and although he hated to admit it, it was also clear that the sword smith had a genuine affection for Yumichika. But that brought him no comfort.
He began walking back towards his room, consumed in this thoughts. As he passed through the archway, he came suddenly face-to-face with Mendalo.
"Oh—Madarame-san." The sword smith was clearly shocked.
"Mendalo."
An awkward silence filled the space between them, then Mendalo said, "It looks like the snow is coming down even harder now than before."
"Yeah."
"I'd better hurry back to my place before it gets too deep." It was a passable excuse, which Ikkaku accepted with a nod and no questions.
But as they parted, Mendalo had the sense that Ikkaku knew something of what had gone on that night. And Ikkaku was aware of this. Yet, it brought him no satisfaction. If Mendalo suspected him of knowing what had taken place, that still didn't undo what he had seen. It didn't return Yumichika to him—
Return Yumichika to him? That was an unexpected thought. An offensive thought. Yumichika was attached to him; not the other way around. And to prove it, he walked past Yumichika's room, straight to his own. He did not stop to call on him or see how he was. Damn, Yumichika had just given a full-body demonstration of how he was, of what was important to him.
While Ikkaku had been meeting his zanpakuto for the first time, under the tutelage of a near stranger – all because Yumichika had declined – Yumichika had been busy romping around in sexual euphoria. Yumichika probably didn't even care that Ikkaku had started his training in jinzen that night.
Damn, Yumichika probably didn't even remember how much he had yearned for Ikkaku. He seemed to have forgotten all that Ikkaku had once meant to him. It seemed impossible, but someone else had replaced him in Yumichika's affections. The only other possibility was that Yumichika had let easy sexual conquest take over his life again.
And Ikkaku did not what to contemplate what that would mean.