A/N (pretty long today, sorry):

- From the Psyche Ward: your review sent me straight on Cloud 9! In particular, I am sooooo happy to hear that you think the characters are still in character, this is so important to me, thank you! (grins, giggles, sighs, and hums to herself in disgustingly happy contentment)

- Oh. My. Goodness! I got a positive review from VioTanequil, THE VioTanequil whose stories I enjoy so much!! (squeals) (Should PND pop up and make a positive review too, I'll probably pass out for good... O.o )

- v-a: as I hinted, one of the two shinigamis was supposed to be a cameo appearance by a rather famous "modern-day" character. That was until I realised that my story is probably taking place at least something like 150 or 200 years ago, and that my cameo is famous for his glasses - and my brain got stuck on how shinigamis could possibly be wearing glasses when people in the real world mostly weren't. So now it's up to you to use your imagination: re-read my description of the shinigami who talked to Yumi, factor in the glasses, and make your own deductions ;-) Of course, I could simply have changed the identity of the cameo, but I didn't feel like it for some reason. Heh.

- By the way, (Spoiler alert!) I forgot to mention: yes the Hollow scene from the previous chapter was shamelessly inspired by the last published chapter of the manga (-104). But at least my Yumi didn't go around weeping pathetically like little Shuuhei did! Yumichika so totally pwns Shuuhei - again! (sadistic grin) (By the way, was I the only one to guess the identity of the crying kid pretty much from the first picture he appears in - this I guess not, just the hair was a dead give-away - and to be disturbed by the sight of tough-guy Hisagi publicly losing it like that? I also didn't think he was that young...) (End of spoiler alert)

- Oh and in case you didn't notice: I can't write fighting scenes. I just stink at them. I love watching them and imagining them, but I just can't write them. (And please nobody mention how stupid it is of me to write a story about two fighters when I can't write fighting scenes - I know :-P ! )

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Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

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Chapter Nine : Threatened Identity

Ikkaku grinned widely while dodging a well-aimed hit. Turning on the spot, he detected an opening and lounged at his opponent, who barely had time to block his attack, and lost his footing in the process. Smelling victory, Ikkaku rushed forward, swerved at the last moment, and landed a crushing blow on his opponent's shoulder, sending him crashing into the dust face first. With a huge smile on his face, Ikkaku turned around, laid his stick on his shoulder, and came to tower over his defeated opponent who was still lying face down on the floor, panting very heavily.

" Well done, kid! Very well done! "

The boy didn't answer ; instead he pushed himself off the floor on one arm and flipped over. He was still catching his breath, so he just looked Ikkaku in the eye and gave him a fierce grin of his own. Ikkaku offered him a hand and pulled him up, making sure he was steady on his feet before releasing him. They staggered together to the river that was running nearby, took off their fighting clothes, jumped into the cold waters, and started to scrub themselves to get rid of the dirt and sweat that had seemingly managed to cover every single square inch of their bodies during their training session. As usual, the kid was the first one out of the river - skinny and scrawny as he was, he always quickly got cold when dipping in outside waters, and he much preferred to go and lie on the grass in the sun. Ikkaku took much longer, letting the river massage his muscles and cool his nerves: he would be going to fight for money later on in the day, and he could do with a bit of relaxation beforehand.

When he finally got out of the water, he wrapped a towel around his hips, grabbed a pot in the bag, and went to join the kid, who seemed to be sleeping but then turned his head and opened his eyes when he heard Ikkaku approaching. A nervous wince played on the beautiful face as the man stopped two feet away from him and looked down at him, surveying the thin naked torso and limbs, looking for any sign of severe injury. Satisfied not to find any, Ikkaku motioned for the kid to get up, unscrewed the top of the pot of ointment, and started spreading it on all the visible but minor cuts and bruises he could find. He then treated himself in a similar manner, handing the pot to the boy in the end for him to do his back.

As they were putting their regular clothes back on, Ikkaku couldn't help but marvel at how much progress the kid had done in just under three months. He hadn't been exactly helpless when it came to fighting when Ikkaku had found him, but he had progressed by leaps and bounds since they had started the training sessions. He was a very attentive student, who listened to every word Ikkaku said and took them to heart, applying all his powers of concentration, and his exceptional determination, into putting into practice every little hint and piece of advice Ikkaku gave him. He was also, as Ikkaku had noticed from the very first day, much tougher and stronger physically than his appearance seemed to indicate, and this, coupled with his sheer stubborness, led to his willingly enduring long hours of hard training every day without ever complaining. In fact, Ikkaku had come to realise, after the boy had almost passed out from exhaustion a couple of times in the middle of a drawn-out fight, that far from pushing the kid, he actually needed to pull him back sometimes, to force him to take things a little easier, or even to stop and rest altogether. He had learned to set goals and limits for the kid to reach, and he was constantly amazed at how quickly and apparently almost effortlessly the boy always seemed to reach those objectives. Ikkaku had dubbed him a fighter on the first day he'd seen him, and his initial intuition had been confirmed and reinforced with each passing day ever since.

After a quick meal during which they ate the last of their food, Ikkaku picked up his sword and the empty bag and left to go to the town they had seen earlier lower down in the valley. It was a rather big city, and Ikkaku was confident he would have no problem finding a place where he could earn a reasonable sum of money. He looked back when he reached the paved road, to make sure that the place where he had left the kid was not visible to any passing traveler. He had no intention of repeating the rather traumatic experience of three weeks before, when he'd come back to find the campsite deserted, and so he took extra precautions to ensure that the kid would be safe while he was gone. Of course, a freak encounter with a Hollow was not something that could actually be prevented, but he still made darn sure that all other possibilities were being eradicated.

He still remembered the shock he had felt, and the panic which had seized him as he'd noticed the unmistakable signs of some huge thing having passed very close by the empty campsite. He had spent a good half-hour roaming the area and yelling at the top of his voice, but to no avail. Getting desperate at the realisation that night had fallen and the kid was out there with nothing but the clothes on his back, Ikkaku had done the only thing his frantic brain could think of: he had built a huge fire in a nearby clearing, hoping against the odds that the boy would somehow see it, wherever he was. The possibility that the kid had actually deliberately run away had crossed his mind too often for comfort, but Ikkaku had preferred to hold on to the idea that his disappearance was accidental and that he was intent on finding his way back. Ikkaku didn't care how much the voice inside his head was mocking him, he just didn't want to face a near-future without his little fighter - not yet, and definitely not like that. So he'd run around, picking up dead wood, hacking off tree limbs and feeding the ever-growing furnace, long into the night, refusing to stop, because it was easier to prevent his brain from over-thinking when he was keeping his body busy. And when finally he had heard the boy's voice shouting his name, and he'd turned around to see him standing there, disheveled and exhausted but alive and well, Ikkaku had been more than happy to give a mental finger to the voice in his head, even as he gave in to his relief and held the kid in a crushing embrace.

Upon reaching the city, Ikkaku spent very little time locating the right kind of neighbourhood for his purposes: poor, but not so poor that the rich people who were the best betters would not even come there. He was used to gauging streets, houses and people at a single glance, and he quickly found a tavern that seemed to him to be the kind of place where he could find someone who would know about where to find a fighting club. Sure enough, a short enquiry with the bartender led him to a secluded booth where a man who kept his face hidden under a large straw hat looked him over attentively before giving him directions to a nearby underground bar, and the name to mention to be accepted in. Following the instructions, Ikkaku easily located his target, and soon he was putting his name down for the afternoon tournament. There weren't many patrons in the bar yet, but that didn't surprise him: those places tended to get crowded mostly at night, which unfortunately meant that the day fights were not the best source of money. In normal circumstances, night-time was precisely when he would have bothered to come, but those days were not normal circumstances: Ikkaku wanted to avoid leaving the boy alone in the woods at night as much as possible. If that meant fighting more often for less money, then so be it. He loved fighting anyway, so having to do it more frequently didn't exactly break his heart, to say the least.

The rest of the day went very much as expected, and soon Ikkaku found himself the winner of the tournament, though judging by the number and the appearance of the betters, this victory was not going to provide him with a lot of money. He shrugged: it didn't matter, as long as he won enough to buy food for a few days. As he waited for the organisers to tally his winning, he let his gaze wander around, over the room, and the other competitors, and the bar, and the notice board besides it. That's when he saw it. It was just a black on white hand-drawn picture, but there was no mistaking the striking features: he was looking straight at a representation of his little fighter's face. He went to un-pin the notice with a slightly shaky hand, and read it over. He felt his jaw slacken and his brain freeze in astonishment. What he was holding was a "missing" notice, and the amount of the reward offered to anyone who could locate the boy was quite simply ludicrous. It was so big Ikkaku couldn't even wrap his mind around it. It was more than he had ever made in a single year, that was for sure...

A tap on his shoulder brought him back to his senses. Instinctively, even as he turned to face the tournament organiser handing him his earnings, he crunched the notice in his fist, before quickly shoving it in his bag. In a daze, he grabbed the pouch that was dangling under his nose, barely noticing how light it was, and he hurriedly left the bar, as though the place had suddenly somehow become dangerous. He had to exercise a great deal of self-control not to break into a run once he was outside, and he settled instead for a very fast walk straight ahead, with no care as to where exactly he was going.

In contrast with his legs, his brain seemed stuck. No matter how much he tried to push past it, he couldn't get over the sheer ridiculous amount of money that was offered as a reward for the capture of his angel-faced fighter. It didn't make any sense, it simply didn't make any sense. Who in Soul Society would ever pay that much just for a kid?! Forcing himself to slow down, Ikkaku looked for a secluded place to pull the crumpled piece of paper out of his bag, and take a good look at it again. This time, he noticed the name of the institution offering the reward, and his blood froze in his veins. He knew that infamous name - who didn't? It was one of the top-most famous "orphanages" in the whole of Rukongai. Looking at the address listed under the name, Ikkaku realised that the infernal institution was located just a couple of days away from where he had originally found the kid, which made total sense and confirmed to him that the boy mentioned on the notice was indeed the very same boy he had been taking care of those last few months.

His mind reeling fiercely, Ikkaku once again crumpled the piece of paper before burying it deep into the bag, and forcing himself to start walking again. He barely remembered to buy food before leaving town, and it took him quite a while to orient himself and find the right exit to the city, which was a sure indication of just how much out of order his brain was. Night had come by the time he finally started on the road back to the campsite, but for some strange reason, Ikkaku found that each step seemed harder to take than the previous one. One part of his mind was telling him to hurry and get back to the kid quickly, but the rest of his being was dreading seeing the boy again. Ikkaku couldn't even think of the boy's face without seeing the insane reward amount superimposed on it - how would he react when he saw the kid for real again? Even worse: how could he dream of managing to hide his confusion from the ever-paranoid boy? The kid would know that something was wrong, he would know it right away...

Ikkaku's heart was heavy when he finally stepped into the campsite clearing. He still didn't know what to do or say, and an intense fear had lodged itself into his stomach that somehow the boy would just take one look at him, and know, and run away. So it was to his very intense relief that he realised that the kid had already gone to sleep under a bush, all rolled up in the blanket. Feeling almost giddy, Ikkaku dropped to his knees next to him, unstrapped the bag from his shoulder, and took his sword out of his belt. He tried to make as little noise as possible, but he still managed to wake the kid up, who suddenly raised himself on an elbow and fixed Ikkaku with wide open eyes. After a couple of seconds, though, recognition came to him, and his face broke into a little smile barely visible in the moonlight, while a sigh of relief escaped his lips. Disentangling himself from the blanket, he offered a good half of it to Ikkaku, before promptly going back to sleep under his own half. Ikkaku remained kneeling for several long minutes, until a great shiver traveling down his back convinced him to join the boy under the warmth of the blanket. He had barely settled himself when he felt the little body come snuggling up to him, while a muttered string of nonsensical words fell from the kid's mouth, both of which confirmed to Ikkaku that the boy was fast asleep. Carefully, Ikkaku wrapped one arm around the boy's thin body, and placed the other under his own head. He closed his eyes, and his overwrought body and brain welcomed the oblivion of sleep. The last thought that crossed his mind before he fell asleep was the boy's name, which had been written on the notice.

Yumichika.