Following

By

PND

Part 11

AN: Sorry it took so long...it's kind of a random chapter.

Thirteen years. It seems like such a long time, but really, it isn't.

For Ikkaku, thirteen years just seemed to fly by. Fighting and traveling seemed to engulf his life. He enjoyed them. If he didn't fight, he traveled looking for one. If he didn't travel, it was because he was in a good location for fighting. It was pretty simple and there wasn't much of a problem with it, but right now he wasn't doing either.

He was trying to travel.

He wanted to fight.

But right now, thirteen years after they had first died, he stood still.

Yumichika had stopped at the side of the road to pray.

He had never seen his companion do anything of the sort and he found it unnerving. Religion to him didn't exist. He was in the afterlife now, wasn't he? It didn't make sense to him to have any kind of religion, but to Yumichika...

Yumichika was praying.

He wasn't kneeling in the dirt, no, but he was squatting, leaning forward on his toes to steady himself, kimono brushing the dirt, hands gently held up in front of his face, eyes closed.

Praying.

Ikkaku couldn't get over it. Thirteen years and he'd never seen Yumichika get ruffled over a death. He could fight well enough to get by and had killed several men, but it seemed that something about that child they just passed struck a chord in him.

Ikkaku coughed quietly to clear his throat. He didn't want to bother the younger man, but he did want to get going.

"Yumichika."

"Yes, I know." Yumichika's eyes slowly slid open as he settled his hands on his knees to study the dead child in front of him. In a simple motion he stood, toes curling to regain some sense of feeling in them. He patted down his kimono to remove dust and flicked those dark eyes at Ikkaku. "Let's go."

Ikkaku nodded dumbly, taken aback by the absolute lack of feeling in that gaze. He let Yumichika set the pace and waited for the tension to lighten a little before he said something stupid.

"What's the point in getting so worked up over some dead kid? It's nothing we haven't seen before."

Yumichika didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Ikkaku didn't give him a chance to breath before continuing.

"It's not like that kid meant anything to you. Never even seen him before, you know? Probably better off dead anyway."

"Ikkaku," Yumichika said gently, turning to look at his friend.

"Yeah, I know. Most kinds here are orphans anyway. I can't see a lot of people wanting to take in some little brat. Probably died of starvation, don't you think?"

"Ikkaku, please stop."

"Not really the best way to go, is it?" Ikkaku flashed a smile at Yumichika, but it quickly fell away at the look on his face. "What is it?"

"Why is it that you hardly talk at all when I want to, but when it's obvious I don't want to you can't stop yourself from sounding like a complete idiot?"

Ikkaku suddenly felt cornered. "What's that kid to you? Nothing. Why are you so worked up about it?"

"You wouldn't understand, Ikkaku. You don't think about things to way I do. It was obvious that that child didn't starve to death, you clout. It was a little girl, not that you could really tell from her face, as bloody as it was. She was probably beaten and raped by bandits or some bloodthirsty passerby. I wonder if anyone is missing her. Is someone missing their daughter? Their friend? Does anyone even know she's gone? I would rather starve to death than not have anyone care."

Yumichika ran his fingers through his hair and let out a soft sigh. "That's why I prayed for her. That's what you're really wondering about. Don't you think someone who had a horrifying death should at least receive one prayer for their soul to find happiness?"

"I doubt anyone prayed for me and I'm happy," Ikkaku snorted at the idea.

"I can't believe how thick you're being! Ikkaku, it's because of people like you that murder exists!" Yumichika stopped, suddenly aware of what he said. His features shifted to worry and his throat suddenly felt dry.

"Why did you have to bring that up?" Ikkaku felt cold all of a sudden. "Haven't you forgiven me for that, yet?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Yumichika murmured softly.

"Of course you didn't," Ikkaku slowed his pace and stopped. "I think we need to talk about this."

"We don't ha--"

"No, we do." Ikkaku sat down on the side of the road, facing at open field on the side. He set his feet in the slight incline leading off from the road and stared at the grass and dirt in front of him. "Why don't you want to talk about it?"

"It's not important."

"Bullcrap. It's important to you. How you died has always rubbed you wrong, hasn't it?"

"Ikkaku, I don't want to talk about it."

"You're talking," Ikkaku told him firmly. "I'm going to sit here and listen to every word that comes out of your mouth, dammit. So, talk."

"I don't hate you," Yumichika sighed.

"That's good to hear. Keep going."

"I just don't like it. I was young. That's what bothers me so much. I barely lived."

"You looked plenty old to me. How old were you?"

"I was nineteen, barely a man." Yumichika closed his eyes. "I didn't realize then how pitifully young I was. Back then I was as old as I'd ever be in that moment. I knew everything I could know at that age, but now I know so much more. My thoughts aren't those of a child. I can see with clarity how foolish I was and what I've missed out on."

"What do you mean?" Ikkaku felt slightly relieved as Yumichika sat down beside him, placing his sandaled feet on the incline. He stared down at them, noticing how worn they were getting. They'd have to get him a new pair soon before he broke them. Yumichika had probably noticed their state long ago and Ikkaku idly wondered why he hadn't mentioned it to him.

He probably didn't want to be a hassle.

"Ikkaku, I've never done a lot of things I wanted to do and that bothers me. Having my existence cut short was a shock. I always wanted a lot of things I never got to do. I never got to fall in love with my wife."

"You were married?" Ikkaku was shocked, but suddenly he could imagine it. Yumichika had probably been betrothed to a princess of some well-off family and married her for politics rather than love. But still…he could see Yumichika's pleasant smiles he'd reserve for her. They would probably both be beautiful and happy for the rest of their lives and he—Ikkaku frowned—he'd cut that happiness short.

"Yeah, she's probably remarried and living out her life the way she wanted now." Yumichika smiled softly, probably recalling a fond memory. Ikkaku felt jilted somehow.

"No kids?"

"We weren't married very long…only a few months." Yumichika played with the print on his kimono for a second and shook his head. "But still, I think that's why it bothered me so much. I think 'What if that child had been mine?' Would I cry? Would I care? Would anything I do even matter? Of course not. What's done is done."

"Yumichika, I'm not really good at this stuff, you know? We don't talk about stuff like this…" Ikkaku rubbed the back of his head. His hand was cold and goosebumps were rising on his neck. "You aren't lonely or anything are you?"

Yumichika stared at him for a minute, making Ikkaku suddenly feel like he was being judged.

"Lonely?" Yumichika repeated, getting to his feet, still studying Ikkaku. The man beside him would never replace what he'd lost, but— "I don't suppose I am." —he had a friend, didn't he?

"That's good," Ikkaku agreed, glad Yumichika's sullen attitude had seemingly lifted just because of a short conversation. Maybe Yumichika just needed to be reminded of who he was and what he had. Ikkaku stood up; glad Yumichika seemed to be over whatever was bothering him.

"We're friends, aren't we?" Yumichika turned, letting his hair fall over his shoulder, watching the way Ikkaku's eyes lit up in surprise. He gave a small laugh. "Sometimes I even feel happy."

End part 11.