Once, long ago in the Rukon, there was a story of a boy who came out of a peach. He came to two good people who desperately wanted a child, and he became their son.
As he grew, he befriended a monkey, a talking dog, and a pheasant, and left his parents with his animal friends to become a hero. He survived the wastes, he braved the Southern Sea, and came to the island of the Oni, where he slayed every last one of those evil monsters.
He brought back all the treasure, and with that treasure, he went up to the Eastern gate and he spent it all to buy the freedom of every last man, woman, and child captured and enslaved – and then he and all the orphan children, all the broken down and starving, they all crossed the river and escaped that wretched place.
And in the sunlight and peace of the East, they lived happily to the end of their days.
…
Renji traveled for weeks, avoiding the populated areas as much as he could and instead lived like a wild animal, foraging and hunting. He left Hisagi's horse in a stranger's field, as she had become too troublesome to stop and feed, despite how far she carried him each day.
The next weeks are a blur. In the dense forests, he came across a band of woodsmen – bandits, to be more precise – and wanders with them for a time. He feels accepted there, as there were other Rukonjin in the gang, childhood escapees like him, and also like him, he even met one or two men who seemed to have been brought to the Juureichi at some point or another.
It was nice for a while, being able to speak freely instead of begging and scraping and always watching his manners. It was nice not being inferior to everyone around him, it was nice to have… friends again, and for some time, Bazz-B and Grimmjow were Renji's companions.
Little did he know that he'd gone so far south that he'd met one of the roving gangs of bandits that had managed to cross the border and now scourged the countryside. He caught on when they started doing things like killing cows and burning crops, which was when he decided to make a break for it.
They chased him down, and Renji ran for his life, narrowly escaping by running up to the edge of what he knew was the border dam. Halting in a moment's hesitation, his heart wrenching and crying 'no,' because he knew exactly where he was going, what was on the other side. The shouts behind him were growing closer though, and if he did not jump and escape now, they would cut his throat if they caught him.
So Renji held his breath and jumped, leaping over a long slope and skidding down a sheer rockface. The terrifying fall ended when he at last plunged deep into the water. He hung there suspended for a few minutes, breath knocked out of his lungs, then kicked and thrashed frantically.
Luckily, despite growing up in a desert, during his time in Zaraki, he'd learned how to swim, and when he broke the surface, he struck out frantically for the far edge, arrows striking the water around him. "Shit!" he gasped, spitting and choking as he at last made it to the other side and dragged himself out on the bank.
When he looked up, he was home.
The endless parched desert stretched out before him, and behind him, a locked gate and a long turreted wall, smoothed and sloping to prevent anyone from climbing back up – the wall that separated the rolling green hills and even the breeze of the East from the South as though by magic.
Panting, he looked up and around at the few people at the riverside there to witness his narrow escape. Wan sunken faces looked back at him as he rose and wrung his sopping hair out, already beginning to suffer under the beating glow of the sun.
He was back here in the baking heat, where the ground cracked with thirst and the trees all lay dead, where the people looked like skeletons. The crushing desolate poverty of it all: Inuzuri. Renji didn't spare a moment feeling sorry for himself, trudging off from the river side. He had to get his message to the king.
He had to escape this unhappy place. How had he ended up back here again? He'd never wanted to come back as long as he lived.
He was grown now though. He'd survive to see the North with its wild fields of yarrow again, he'd see the flag proudly flying the 'eleven' again.
He's always been told that the wild men of the South have unbreakable spirit.
. . .
. . .
Ikkaku waited for what felt like ages in a lavish hall to meet the Emperor. This place was admittedly even grander than his own home in Zaraki, damn, look at how high the ceiling went! It sure didn't look that large from the outside! Everything down to the last detail was gilded and ornamental and dazzling.
At last he suddenly heard clattering footsteps, and Yumichika burst through the tall doors at the top of the polished steps. Ikkaku lit up with a delighted smile. Yumichika ran breathlessly to him and stood before him, glowing with happiness. Taking him by the hand, Yumichika led him inside.
Then the two of them rejoiced together; Ikkaku lifted him by the waist and spun him about, and Yumichika flung his arms around his shoulders, embracing him. They held each other for a long time in their happiness. "I've found you," Ikkaku murmured. "I've finally found you."
"You have," Yumichika agreed with a laugh.
"I... I don't want to let you go again," Ikkaku confessed, unwilling to break their embrace. He'd truly thought he might never see Yumichika's face again. "I've missed you. Losing you was agony."
"Then stay," Yumichika murmured with a smile, and Ikkaku mirrors it, heart fluttering in joy.
"Do you..." Ikkaku cleared his throat. "Do you remember what I said to you before we parted? Because that's the truth. There's nothing in all the world I love so much as I love you, Yumichika. Tell me you feel the same..." he breathed.
Yumichika gave him a long look, before a coy smile quirked his lip. "Ikkaku," he began.
"... What?"
"How do I look?" he wondered, fluffing his short hair. Ikkaku snorted, laughing wildly and spinning him around and around.
In a day or two, they were married.
Ikkaku would've liked to ask after Yumichika's hand and court him for a proper amount of time or ask his own father's permission, but he didn't want to wait any longer, not just after he'd thought he may have lost Yumichika forever! His fae-lover, fickle and merry, saw nothing wrong in the urgency of his whims, finding it romantic.
The two overjoyed to be together at last, and everyone in the kingdom celebrated. Ikkaku truly felt welcome, to see Yumichika's people so happy that they were wed. After many hours of celebration in the hall, stuffed to the brim with good food and wine and laughter, the two of them left the banquet to consummate their marriage, and everyone drank them a toast, continuing their merrymaking after they departed.
Ikkaku took Yumichika to bed, carrying him in his arms. There were candles lit all down the hallways to lead them to the bedchamber, and as Ikkaku carried him there, they paused at each candle and blew them out together one by one as they made their way to their bedroom.
When they came to the door, Ikkaku slowly set Yumichika down, and their eyes met. His lips parted, his throat dry as Yumichika gave a slow smile and went into his room, leaving Ikkaku in the hall for a moment before he fumbled to enter the adjoining one next door.
As he shut the door behind him, he spared not a glance for the bed or furniture, instead hurriedly unbuckling his belt and rifling through the drawers for bedclothes. He kicked his boots off, laid his sword down and checked his face in the mirror. His cheeks were hot and gleaming with sweat after the feast – Easterners knew how to throw a damn party.
Clothes were lain out for him on the bed, a bowl of water and a sponge on the bureau. He stripped naked and gave himself a quick scrub, and at last, with a yukata on for the night, he stood in front of the door connecting their rooms and raised his hand to knock. Hesitating, he placed his hand on the wood and rested his head there. He doesn't hear anything on the other side.
Swallowing, he knocked on the door and slowly opened it, peeking inside across the large room towards the curtained bed. He knew Yumichika was in there waiting, could see him through the ghostly pale sheets.
Ikkaku emerged cautiously and shut the door behind him. He approached the bed and slowly parted the thin curtain enough to get inside, and it's then that he felt a little nervous. The two of them have not so much as kissed, after all.
For a moment, they just look at each other, and Ikkaku reached out to touch him, brushed a hand along his pale cheek. 'A fae bride,' he thought numbly, 'Can this be real?'
A slow breath escaped him as they lay down together, Yumichika arms coming around his shoulders, his own going around Yumichika's waist, and their lips met at last, warm and sealed together.
Yumichika was bare and glowing in the pale light of a few candles outside the canopy, so lovely that Ikkaku could hardly stand to look at him. 'Gentle,' he told himself, resting his hands softly on Yumichika's back, holding onto him, 'I must be gentle.'
"Why do you tremble?" Yumichika whispered, rolling atop him, a sweet weight in his lap and his soft dark hair tickling along Ikkaku's jaw. Excitement shot through him, breaking through the haze in a warm flush of passion. Ikkaku controlled his breathing, his lips parted and just barely brushing Yumichika's. "Put your arms around me." Ikkaku did.
He doesn't know how long his wedding night lasts - it felt like a dream, a wonderful, wonderful dream void of detail. He could tell you they kissed; they made love; they lay in each other's arms.
"Yumichika, tell me true," he breathed, flesh tingling and damp with sweat, his face pressed to Yumichika's neck, "Do you love me?"
"I do." Yumichika's body molded to his own so well, slotted beneath him.
"Do you truly?"
"Truly I love you."
"None so well as I?" Ikkaku wondered, lifting onto his elbows above him.
"With all my soul, I love you," Yumichika murmured against his lips, cool fingers soothing the feverish back of his head and neck. "And you?" Yumichika smiled.
"I love you more than all the gold, all the battles, all the-" Ikkaku tried to say, not finding the words. "You're… you're wonderful," he sighed. He gently picked himself off his husband – his faerie husband – and laid beside him, their arms lovingly around each other beneath the blankets. He felt very much a man, very much completed.
In the morning, Ikkaku woke to the sounds of servants lighting the fire and laying out some food for them, but the bed curtains were closed, and he felt at ease to lie here bare with his lover nestled in his arms.
He let his hand run over Yumichika's glossy black hair and kissed his forehead. He'd never known he could love something so much.
He knows this is exactly what his dad meant when he talked about needing that something extra to be a man, to be truly ready to become king. How could he ever have understood how to rule and see true worth in the lives of his subjects without understanding this, without knowing that everybody had someone they loved like this, that they wanted to protect at all costs, and be with for the rest of their lives. And for him, that is Yumichika.
. . .
Ichigo and Lady Rukia became fast friends. He came to visit her at least once a week, sometimes more, often exhausted due to hurrying through his work to be able to come to her sooner.
His happiness at making a newfound friend was short-lived however, because as he visited her several times, each time she grew sicker and more frail.
At last he asked, when she could not stand to greet him when he made it through her window, "Princess Rukia, are you sick? You don't look well at all."
"I feel perfectly fine," she rasped, and although Ichigo didn't press her, he didn't believe the obvious lie.
At last, once when he visited her, she didn't answer when he called up to her window, and when he made it up to her, she was lying in bed, hardly able to lift an arm. Her voice was fragile and weak, rattling with sickness. That was when she whispered to him that she'd been cursed.
"Rukia, what's wrong? Are you sick?" he asked desperately, kneeling at her bedside. She looked an inch from death. He felt her forehead gently, put her little cold hand to his cheek.
She licked her cracked parched lips. "I looked out the window," she said in a quiet wisp of a voice. "I saw you in the field, and… the sun," she rasped, her voice breaking with emotion. "... I couldn't resist." Ichigo's face screwed up in wretchedness.
"What will happen to you?"
"I'll die." Ichigo shook his head, uncomprehending, unable to accept her words. "'No time hath she to sport or play,'" she whispered, singing a little, eyes slipping closed in exhaustion, her hand falling limp in Ichigo's grasp. "'A charmed web she weaves away. A curse is on her, if she stay her weaving, either night or day.'"
Ichigo looked at the unfinished roll of tapestry, a red-headed boy and a small black-haired girl joining the newest image. The latest bits were a half-woven picture of the two of them together, her and Ichigo, in the tower, lit up with sunlight.
He turned to her with a dry mouth, insisting with his heart pounding in panic and sadness, "Curses aren't real, magic isn't real."
Rukia was silent, fading under his touch, her chest hardly rising and falling even as he watched. He swallowed hard and took her fragile little shoulders in his hands, not daring to shake her, but trying to wake her up again. "Who, who's cursed you?" he asked desperately. "Why are you sick?"
"Nii-sama," she murmured, opening her eyes a sliver.
Ichigo felt a bitter bubbling of rage build just beneath the surface of his overwhelming sorrow. "Lord Kuchiki did this?" he demanded.
"If I were to leave, he might lose me like he lost Lady Hisana," she explained, not making any sense.
"That's fucked up!" he barked through gritted teeth.
When at last he felt he could leave her side, Ichigo traveled all the way back, walked till his feet ached and he felt about to drop dead in exhaustion and hunger – he dragged himself up to the Kuchiki manor around midday the following day, and as luck would have it, it was one of the few days the mysterious Lord Kuchiki showed his face outside his mansion to visit the gardens.
"Hey!" he confronted him directly, shouting like a mad man that he had to go over there and help Rukia, bring her medicine or something. He didn't get a word in response, barely a cold silent glance before the lord turned away to seclude himself again.
"She's going to fucking die - your sister!" Ichigo screamed. "Don't you care, goddamn you!" Thrown out into the mud by Lord Kuchiki's attendants, Ichigo raged and thrashed as he was shoved down, a knee on his back, his arms bound.
Having had enough of his troublemaking, and what Ichigo suspected was worse, embarrassing the family by having discovered their imprisoned princess, he was to be placed in exile in the wastes of the South. Beaten to shreds, Ichigo spent his last night in the Hokutan tied to a stake in the center of his village.
Yuzu openly wept at the sight of him, trying to feed him sips of water, but Karin stood in silence as they saw each other for the last time. At dawn, he was brought before the royal family and sentenced to a life of exile.
Refusing to be intimidated through violence or shaming, Ichigo still wouldn't be silenced. "You might be fucking heartless, but I won't let her die!" he shouted at the silent Lord Kuchiki and his stupid icy face. "I swear on my soul!"
He was roped up like an animal and led on foot for days, down to the Southern border. When the guards grew careless, Ichigo broke free and escaped, running as fast as he could on shaky legs, vision blackening from hunger, until he broke through the thicket into the woods.
They didn't pursue him further after he entered the trees of the forest, at which time he slowed and doubled over to catch his breath and rest. Apparently, the guards were wary of following him into the Junrinan, the magical forest, which Ichigo supposed was to his advantage.
He turned and walked further into the woods, seeing no reason to worry. There was no such thing as magic, after all.