Chapter 21 Maiweg's Orchard
"Did you ever wake up in the morning
to find that nothing was the same?
And the only thing that really matters
is the pleasure and the pain?"
The Lights are Low
Justin Hayward
"You've made up your mind. Now, I need to make up mine."
Yumichika had no idea what those words meant, and his own lack of courage prevented him from asking over the course of the next several days.
What decisions was Ikkaku pondering? What actions might he take? He was not discussing any of it with Yumichika, and this was worrisome; for while Yumichika was confident that Ikkaku would never leave him, he did harbor the fear that Ikkaku might want them both to pick up and leave Venla altogether, anything to be away from his father.
It was vexing and frustrating – a hatred Yumichika could not understand or tolerate. In his own life in the world of the living, his father had loved and doted on him with all the devotion of a gander guarding his brood. What the surrounding society had seen as grotesque, burdensome and unfit to live, his father had cherished, protected, and guided in paths deemed insignificant and unimportant in the world into which he had been born. The ability to recognize bird song or identify the various types of tree or flower, the keen eye and steady hand to frame and paint a beautiful image, the skill to plant and harvest, the cultivation of a gentle, unthreatening touch that allowed him to approach wild creatures with ease . . . these had all been great gifts of an adoring father.
And Yumichika was convinced that, while Totui Madarame probably did not possess the same gifts, he surely had gifts of his own to impart – and Ikkaku should be the recipient.
It simply was not right that father and son should be at such antipathy, especially when the hatred seemed to be all on one side: Ikkaku's. Totui seemed more than ready to make amends. And Yumichika was not about to give up on Ikkaku's stubborn refusal to see reason.
They had both carefully avoided the subject for the first part of the week. And on Wednesday, when they headed down the mountain together – Ikkaku to go to work and Yumichika to turn over some of his handiwork for sale in the finery shop – they did not talk about anything more controversial than how many blocks of beeswax Yumichika should pick up from the apiary.
They parted company at the mill, and Yumichika continued on into the village. The finery shop was on the main road on the opposite side of the village square. Yumichika's business there was quickly handled. He had a number of items to put up for sale, from clothing to bed linens to table dressings. The winter months had been a very productive time.
As he turned over his goods, he withheld two obi's. They were already earmarked for other recipients.
From there, he headed to the apiary which was just beyond the outskirts of the village, lying out by itself on a small man-made berm on the broad flood plain. Here, he procured the wax for candles – two more blocks than what he and Ikkaku had agreed upon. Rather than going back through the village to return to the mountain path, he chose the wagon road that ran along the edge of the fields and orchards at the foot of the mountains. It was a longer way, but the morning was exceptionally pleasant with the fragrance of daimsol floating down from the fells.
Yumichika passed by the Maiweg orchard where the cherry trees were just beginning to sprout buds and the apple trees still looked skeletal and forlorn. He continued on, coming to the Maiweg farmhouse, where Mrs Maiweg was hanging out laundry to dry. She did not see Yumichika, and Yumichika did not approach her. She loved to talk, and any conversation was guaranteed to last at least an hour. Yumichika was too engrossed in his own thoughts to desire any interaction. As he passed the last of the farm outbuildings, he breathed a sigh of relief at having passed through unnoticed.
A couple kilometers of lovely walking country lay ahead of him now. And although he was surrounded by some of the greatest natural beauty he'd ever seen, his mind was engaged in something definitively not beautiful.
"The problem's not Totui. The problem's Ikkaku. He's the one who refuses to forgive his father. He's the one who won't even try to make things right. And sooner or later, Totui may get so angry that he doesn't care either. What am I going to do? I can't let them go on like this. And now, Ikkaku's beaten up Pakkay . . . how could he have been so stupid?"
He turned the same thoughts over and over again, but he could see no clear path forward. All he could do was to try and keep Totui from giving up hope and convince Ikkaku that it was time to let go of his grudge. As for Pakkay, he wasn't sure what to do about that situation. The man's incessant lying was what had led to the current situation; but then again, if Yumichika had simply kept those lies to himself, Ikkaku never would have found out about them and would never have confronted the farmhand. Yumichika hated anything that disrupted the peace, and so he was willing to overlook both men's foolishness and try to make amends.
He was coming to the stone fence between one part of the orchard and another, where grape vines were planted, when he heard the rumble of thunder. A glance over his shoulder showed the leading edge of black storm clouds creeping over the mountaintops. He figured he had at least five minutes before the rain came, and this time he would not be caught out in it. Up ahead a couple hundred meters was an orchard storage shed. The entire landscape was dotted with them.
Yumichika hurried his pace, coming to the wooden structure just as the wind began sweeping down off the mountain. Stepping inside, he was surprised to find that it was not simply an empty shed waiting to be filled with harvest. There was a crude wooden bed piled with straw and an old, moth-eaten blanket against one wall. In the far left corner, beneath a small opening in the roof, was a ring of stones and the charred remains of a cooking fire. Beside it lay a stained cast iron pan and a spit, a copper cup and a tin plate.
Was someone living here?
Yumichika got his answer in the next moment.
A fierce crack of thunder sounded directly overhead, releasing a torrent of rain. The wind was so violent, Yumichika feared it would bring the shed down on his head. He went to the door to look outside just as the shed's occupant came flying in out of the weather, plowing into him and sending them both crashing to the dirt floor.
"Aya-ayasegawa-san?"
Yumichika looked up as the man got to his hands and knees.
"Pakkay?"
The farmhand, dripping wet, got to his feet, but he did not offer to help Yumichika get up. Instead, he looked at him with a guarded expression. "What are you doing out here?"
Yumichika sat up and brushed off his kimono. "I was heading back to the cottage."
"Through the orchards?" Pakkay asked, his voice containing a cool skepticism.
"I was at the apiary, and I felt like taking the long way back," Yumichika replied, getting to his feet. "When I saw the storm clouds, I came in here to take cover." He paused. "What are you doing out here?"
Pakkay's face was impassive. "This is where I live now."
Yumichika blanched. "Where you live?"
Pakkay turned away and began working on a starting a fire. "Yeah. Congratulations. You got what you wanted."
Yumichika swallowed down his confusion. "What do you mean? What—what happened?"
"You wanted me to get fired. I was fired."
"I—I didn't want you to get fired," Yumichika stammered. "I never wanted that. All I wanted was for Ikkaku and—"
"—and his father to get back together. Yeah, you told me." Pakkay fanned the small flame he'd started then straightened up and gave a brief glance at Yumichika. "You're a liar."
"But—but what happened? Why did Totui fire you?" Yumichika asked, his voice incredulous.
"Why?" Pakkay stripped off his wet kosode, revealing muscular shoulders and a thick, powerful torso. "Because I got into a fight with his son." A pause. "All thanks to you. You had to go and tell Ikkaku what I'd said."
Yumichika was obstinate. "Of course, I had to tell him. You were lying to me. You were trying to make me think you and Ikkaku were involved with one another. He needed to know what you were trying to do."
"And why do you think I would do that? What reason could I possibly have for lying to you about something like that?" Pakkay challenged.
"I don't know," Yumichika replied honestly. "Maybe you wanted me to be jealous."
"Maybe I was telling you the truth. Maybe it's Ikkaku who's lying to you," Pakkay replied. "Don't you wonder how we ending up getting in that fight?"
"Ikkaku told me it was because of something you said about me—"
"He was mad because I'd told you about us. He wanted to keep it hidden from you." He paused and sat down heavily on the bed. "Do you think Madarame-sama would have fired me just for getting in a fight? He fired me because he found out what the fight was about. I had to tell him the truth, that I'd been having sex with his son. And then . . . he told me you'd already talked to him about it."
Yumichika was baffled. He refused to even entertain the idea that Ikkaku was lying to him, although when he looked at Pakkay, flushed from his run in the rain, half-naked and overflowing with masculine allure, he could see how someone like Ikkaku might find him attractive.
But that was absurd. Absurd and impossible. Yumichika knew better.
"I'm sorry you got fired," he said. "Even though I still think you're lying, I never wanted you to get in trouble with Totui. I guess part of this is my fault. I probably should have kept my mouth shut and not said anything to Ikkaku." He reached into his bag and drew out one of the obi's he'd set aside. "I was going to give this to you and another one to Totui as a way to say I'm sorry for the fight. But I guess now, it's to say I'm sorry for you getting fired."
Totui reached out and took the obi. He turned it over in his large hands. "It's nice." He stood up and with quiet quickness, looped the obi once around Yumichika's wrists and pulled him close. "So, what else comes with this apology?"
Yumichika jerked back instantly. Around him, the shed walls became the walls of the hutch on the Ulandsee. The straw bed melted into the sleeping roll upon which he had so many times turned over his body to anyone who wanted it. And Hinsamoi stood looking down at him with the gleam of anticipation in his eye. "Put your wrists together."
"What's wrong? Come on, you don't think I'm buying that you just showed up here by accident. Or that you wanted to give me some little trinket gift?"
Pakkay's voice jolted him back to the present.
"Let's see how repentant you really are," the farmhand leered.
Without a word, Yumichika turned and fled.
Behind him, Pakkay watched from the doorway but he didn't go after him. The sound of his laughter was lost in the rain and the wind and the thunder. While it certainly might have been a moment of ecstasy to have basted the little bird, he was finding much greater pleasure in the torment. The only question that remained was how much longer he could draw it out. Something was going to give soon.
The storm raged around him. He could barely see where he was going through the driving rain, and he was so panicked that he had no idea where he should be headed. He only knew what he was running from. His thoughts were spinning wildly in his head. He tried once, then again, to use the speed move, but his concentration was so scattered that he could not manage it and ended up, the first time on his knees less than twenty meters from where he had started, and the second time, face-down in the middle of a freshly plowed field, now little more than a sea of mud.
He struggled to his feet and stumbled several meters, slipping and falling time and again, not even sure which direction he was heading. Finally, he dropped to his knees in exhaustion. Much to his own self-reproach, he found tears mixing with the rain against his face. He wrapped his arms around his shaking body and turned inward.
"I need you . . . Ruri'iro Kujaku."
The cavern materialized around him. He heard Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice at his ear.
"Kimi? What's happened?"
For the first time in a long while, Yumichika regretted having shut his zanpakuto out.
"I need your help," he answered, too ashamed to even look Ruri'iro Kujaku in the eye.
"Kimi, tell me what's happened," Ruri'iro persisted.
"You were right . . . you were right about him," Yumichika stammered.
"Who?" The reikon slid around in front of him and took hold of his shoulders. "Master, look at me! What's happened?"
"Pakkay . . . "
"What did he do?" Ruri'iro asked. "I couldn't see or hear anything."
"He wanted to—to have—" Yumichika shook his head and began sobbing again.
Ruri'iro Kujaku gripped him tighter. "Kimi, open your eyes long enough for me to see where you are."
In the outer world, Yumichika opened his eyes.
Ruri'iro was stunned. What was his master doing hunkering in the mud in the middle of a thunderstorm? The story of what had happened could wait. The important thing was to get Yumichika to safety.
"Master, you have to pull yourself together," he ordered.
Yumichika said nothing.
"Kimi, I can't help you. You didn't bring me with you," Ruri'iro pressed. "You're going to have to do this yourself."
When Yumichika did not respond, the peacock grew more insistent. "You can't stay out here in the middle of a lightning storm. Now, collect your wits and get on your feet!"
Still, Yumichika did not move.
Back in the inner world, Ruri'iro took his master's face in his hands. "You have to get up, Yumichika. You can't stay where you are. It's too dangerous, and you're going to get sick. Now, stop acting like a woman and get on your feet."
Yumichika raised his eyes and looked at him. He had not seen the swirling colors of his zanpakuto's eyes in weeks. That was how long it had been since he had been to his inner world. Their appearance now gave him courage and comfort, despite Ruri'iro's biting words.
He got to his feet and began walking, but the going was so difficult, he found himself, once again, going down every few steps.
"Use the speed movement," Ruri'iro ordered him.
"I don't have the strength," Yumichika replied.
"Yes, you do. You can go short distances at a time. Concentrate."
Yumichika focused his energy. In three moves, he had made it as far as the bottom of the mountain path. From here, he dared not try the move any more, for he felt too weak to control it, and he knew he could easily end up running into a tree or off one of the cliffs.
With Ruri'iro Kujaku encouraging and bullying him every step of the way, he plodded up the mountain, still fighting against the rain and the wind. At last, he came to the cottage. He made it through the door before collapsing in delirium. He felt strong arms reach around him and help him over to the hearth. He opened his eyes just in time to see Ruri'iro Kujaku wave a hand that ignited a fire.
Ruri'iro sat him down among the pillows and placed a hand on his forehead.
"Th-thank you for forcing me to k-keep going," Yumichika said in a strained and rattling voice, his eyes already closed. "You can g-go back n-now."
"That's not happening," Ruri'iro replied. "You're not well. You need someone to look after you."
"I'm okay now—"
"No, you're not. Come on, you need to get out of these wet clothes." Ruri'iro began undressing him.
"Y-you don't h-have to—"
"Stop. Just shut up." Ruri'iro cut him off. "Listen to you, you can barely speak. Now, lie quietly and once I get you out of these things, I'll heal you and restore your energy."
Yumichika did as he was told. He was too exhausted and too flustered to argue. And the truth was that Ruri'iro Kujaku's touch, his mere presence, was putting his mind at ease and taking the edge off what had happened.
At length, he found himself lolling in the warmth of a down blanket and a blazing fire. Ruri'iro Kujaku sat beside him, one hand beneath the blanket, running lightly over his chest.
"There is much fever in your body," Ruri'iro stated. "I can feel it in your lungs."
"It's starting to feel better," Yumichika said, and he still sounded weak.
"I don't know why sickness is harder to heal than injury," Ruri'iro stated. "But you'll be back to normal in an hour."
Thirty minutes later, Ruri'iro felt Yumichika was recovered enough to answer some questions. "So, tell me what happened."
"I was walking home, and I got caught in the rain," Yumichika explained. "I ducked into a shed, and Pakkay came in after me. He was living there—" He stopped abruptly. "Ikkaku's coming."
"Yes, he is," Ruri'iro Kujaku agreed, not stopping his activity. "Good, he can make himself useful and help me take care of you."
"Kimi—"
The tone of Yumichika's voice told the reikon all he needed to know.
"No. You can't ask me to go back. I won't do it," he refused. "I came when you needed me. You can't send me back now. It's time he knew about me."
"Ruri'iro Kujaku . . . soon. I promise. Soon. But not right now. I—"
"I haven't finished healing you," Ruri'iro pointed out. "And you haven't told me what happened."
Yumichika took hold of Ruri'iro's hand beneath the blanket and drew it out on top. "I'll come to you tonight. Trust me. I will. Please . . . go. Hurry. He'll be here any second."
Ruri'iro was looking at him through the mosaic of his eyes, and the sentiment was clear. Words were not necessary for Yumichika to know that he had gone perhaps too far this time, calling on his zanpakuto in desperation and then shunting him back into the secrecy of his inner world once the need had passed and Ikkaku was drawing near. This was an offense that would take a good deal of attention and fawning to undo. But Yumichika would do it, for he knew that this time he was in the wrong.
"Kimi, I give you my word, I will come to you tonight," he repeated. "Please go."
Ruri'iro Kujaku was intrinsically aware that a zanpakuto should be obedient to his master. He also was proud of the fact that he could be disobedient when it suited him. All these years, and his master still had not learned how to overpower him. He could do as he pleased whenever he pleased.
But it did not please him to disobey at this moment. There was no conceivable way that an act of defiance could bring him any happiness under the circumstances. The only thing he wanted was for his master to cherish him enough to reveal him to Madarame.
It was clear that was not going to happen. Not any time soon.
"I will be waiting for you," he said. "If you don't come, I'll know you forever as a liar."
With that, he vanished.
A liar.
That was the second time today someone had called him a liar. It was a moniker he loathed but with which he could not argue forcefully. Maybe he wasn't an outright liar, but he had lately taken to withholding the truth. Still, he was convinced it was all for good reason.
Ikkaku came bursting through the door, shutting it hurriedly behind him before the wind could blow too much rain inside.
"I'll tell you, I'm getting tired of the rain!" he roared. "I feel like I'm waterlogged—what are you doing on the floor?"
"I'm resting a bit," Yumichika replied. "I got caught in the storm, and I feel a little feverish."
"Feverish? You? The picture of health?" Ikkaku cast his wet hanten over a hook on the back of the door and walked over to where Yumichika lay. He leaned over and felt for fever. "You are a little warm. That may be from lying so close to the fire—"
"It's not from the fire," Yumichika sighed. "I'm just feeling a little under the weather. I'll be fine by tomorrow."
"You need anything?"
"Some tea would be nice."
Ikkaku turned to head towards the kitchen area. "What's this pile of clothes? Sheesh, Yumichika, what did you do? Fall in the middle of a cattle wade?"
"I kind of lost my bearings in the storm and fell a few times in one of the fields," came the answer.
Ikkaku picked up the muddy, dripping mound, opened a rear shutter, and tossed the clothes into a soaking trough just outside the cottage wall. "You must be feeling pretty lousy to have just dropped them on the floor." He put the water on to boil then turned to light the kitchen table candle, which was down to a nub. "Did you get the wax?"
Yumichika caught his breath. In his panic fleeing from Pakkay, he'd left his bag with its purchases. "I lost it in the storm."
"You make it sound like you got hit by a tornado—"
"It was bad, Ikkaku," Yumichika cut him off. "But I don't want to talk about that anyway."
Ikkaku poured way too much tealeaf into the sieve. "What do you want to talk about?" he asked expectantly.
"I saw Pakkay today—"
"Ohhh," Ikkaku groaned. "I don't want to hear about him again—"
"Your father fired him."
Ikkaku turned from his tea-making. "What?"
"He fired him because of the fight," Yumichika went on, reaching up to wipe some drops of sweat from his brow. "I ran into him living in one of Maiweg's orchard sheds."
"He's working for Maiweg?"
"I don't know. I didn't ask. He just told me he got fired because of the fight and that he was living in the shed," Yumichika replied.
Ikkaku hesitated a moment then shrugged and turned back to the tea. "There's nothing I can do about it."
"Yes, there is," Yumichika countered. "You can go tell your father that you're not sleeping with Pakkay."
Ikkaku startled. "Why would my father think I was sleeping with Pakkay?"
"Because that's what Pakkay told him," Yumichika answered.
Ikkaku shook his head. "Why the hell would he tell him that? That doesn't make any sense. He'd have to know that a lie like that would get him into trouble. And why would he tell my father the same lie that he's telling you?"
"I don't know," Yumichika moaned. "I don't care. I just want you to go talk to your father."
Ikkaku chuckled. "You must really be sick to make a stupid statement like that." He fixed the tea and brought it over only to find Yumichika already asleep. He settled down beside him. "But don't worry. I intend to find out what's going on," he said out loud, although he was now speaking only to himself.
He helped himself to the tea.
"So, tell me what happened," Ruri'iro Kujaku insisted, sitting down beside his master in the center of the bed in the maroon room.
Yumichika drew in a long breath. "I overreacted to something Pakkay did."
"What did he do?"
"It's nothing, really. Like I said, I overreacted," Yumichika replied, trying to play it off as if it were not worth discussing.
"It was significant enough that you ended up needing my help. What was it?" Ruri'iro pressed.
"He, uh, he did something that reminded me of the things I used to do in Mito," Yumichika said, diverting his gaze, the color rising in his cheeks.
"He wanted to have sex with you?" Ruri'iro asked.
"I—I don't know. I think so," Yumichika answered, confused. "I gave him the obi—"
"What obi?"
Yumichika winced. He'd forgotten that Ruri'iro Kujaku had no idea of the things he'd been doing lately.
"I made him and Totui obi's. I'd been working on them for regular sale, but after Ikkaku's fight with Pakkay, I decided to give them as gifts, sort of a way to apologize for what had happened," he explained.
"Madarame got into a fight with Pakkay?"
"Yes, and—"
"What about?"
"That's not important," Yumichika replied. "All that matters is that he got into a fight. After twenty years without fighting, he goes and picks a fight with his father's servant. I can't even believe how stupid he was."
Ruri'iro simpered. "Hm, it would appear his stupidity is rubbing off on you."
"Kimi, don't start," Yumichika groaned. "You asked me what happened. Now, let me finish telling you." A pause. "Today, I went into town to pick up a few things and I took the long way home through the orchards. A storm came up and I took shelter in one of the sheds. I could see someone was living there, and then a few seconds later, Pakkay came in. He told me he'd been fired by Ikkaku's father because of the fight. I gave him the obi to say I'm sorry, and he . . . well, he acted like he was going to . . . to tie me up with it."
"I understand now."
"I was so shocked that I ran away. I wasn't thinking clearly, and the storm was still going on. I couldn't see where I was going, and I was . . . I was scared. I was afraid he would come after me," Yumichika said in a rush.
"And that's when you called on me."
"I needed your help," Yumichika said.
"And when you no longer needed me, you wanted me to leave," Ruri'iro Kujaku added.
"It wasn't that I didn't need or want you anymore. Ikkaku was coming, and—"
"And you're not ready to show me to him. Yes, I know," Ruri'iro cut him off. "So, why did you come here tonight?"
"I told you I would," Yumichika replied.
"Yes, but why? You don't want to be with me. That's clear. I've become something useful to you – just like you're useful to Madarame," the peacock fussed. "Even now, I can tell that you want to leave."
"I only want to leave when you act like this," Yumichika retorted. "And lately, you've been acting like this every time. You're so jealous that . . . well, it's not very pleasant being around you. I get tired of hearing you say nasty things about Ikkaku." He was silent for a long moment. "We never used to talk about him at all. We would spend hours here, just exploring or training or just . . . being in each other's presence. We don't do that anymore."
Ruri'iro was not moved. "You also used to let me share in your life. You let me have a window to the outside world, to hear the things you hear and see the things you see. I could sense your emotions and even read your thoughts. We were very close to being one soul. It was a great freedom. But all that is gone now."
Yumichika sighed. "It has to be this way," he said. "I know it's painful for you, but you know I'm right. If I really am your master, then you know there have to be certain barriers between us, barriers that I control."
"And Madarame is one of those barriers—" Ruri'iro began.
"No, no, he's not," Yumichika corrected, shaking his head. "You want to blame everything on him, but it's been my decision to block you out. You had to know this would happen."
The zanpakuto sat with hunched shoulders. "Yes, I knew. But I miss you, master."
This was the Ruri'iro Kujaku against which Yumichika had little defense. The sad, contrite, honest azure peacock whose only true wish was to spend every possible moment in the presence of his beloved master.
"I'll make a deal with you," Yumichika offered. "I will come to you every night, if you promise that during our time together, you won't go off on Ikkaku."
This was cheerfully received. "Every night?" Ruri'iro asked.
"Every night."
"Then I accept."
"Now, come lie down," Yumichika said with a weak grin. "I'm tired, and I just want to feel you beside me."
Potato latkes and dried fish again. Three days in a row.
Ikkaku scowled. Yumichika seemed to be losing some of his creativity when it came to preparing his lunch. True, Yumichika was still recovering from his bout with fever, but that had been almost a week ago, and by now he should have been able to put a little more effort into meal preparation. Ikkaku would have to remember to say something to him this evening about it.
Of course, that did not stop him from wolfing every bite down within ten minutes as he sat atop a pile of sacks filled with rice flour in the sacking room.
Still, he was glad to have done it, for in the next moment, he lost his appetite.
He heard his father's voice coming from the mill's main wheelhouse. Ikkaku glanced up to see his father speaking to Yenset. But he heard not a single word. His eyes were riveted to the obi tied around Totui's waist. He had seen that obi every day for the past three weeks. Yumichika had been working on it every evening.
And now, here it was on his father's body.
How had he come by it? Ikkaku had not seen Yumichika bring it down to any of the weekend markets for sale. Had he passed it off to a merchant during the week? That was always a possibility.
Yenset and Totui entered the sacking room, where Yenset showed him the different types of sacking and the costs associated with each.
"I hate to spend the extra money, but I think it's necessary right now. The weather is so damp and there's so much rain, I don't want the grain to mildew," Totui was saying.
"If you buy over 200, I can give you a special rate," Yenset replied.
"Will you give me a day or two to think about it?"
"However long you need."
The two men stood thoughtfully, then Totui noticed Ikkaku's gaze fixed on his waist.
"I see you've noticed the obi," Totui said, his manner well-pleased. "Yumichika does fine work. This is as good as anything I ever had in the world of the living."
Yenset looked on admiringly. "It must have cost you a neat sum."
"It didn't cost me anything," Totui replied. "He gave it to me as a gift."
Ikkaku paled. This was the moment the entire visit had been leading up to. His father had planned the entire thing to unfold in just this way, to raise Ikkaku's suspicions and cast doubt in his mind.
It was Yenset who spoke next.
"A gift? That's a mighty generous gift. What was he repaying you for?"
Totui laughed. "Yenset-san, a gift isn't repayment. It's something given for free, for nothing. Well, I guess that's not exactly true." He looked at Ikkaku. "He gave it to me on your behalf, to apologize for what happened between you and Pakkay." He shook his head fondly. "I'll tell you, I've never met a more magnanimous soul. You know, you are a lucky man to have stumbled upon him."
Ikkaku was silent. He struggled a moment with what to do, then he left the wheelhouse for the pull barn, anxious to be away from his father but also desperate to refute the idea that Yumichika had given the obi to him. It had to be another one of his father's lies. It had to be.
Only somehow, he knew it wasn't.
He knew it was the truth.
He paced up and down the pull barn, clenching and unclenching his fists, going over again and again the words his father had said. Yumichika had felt it necessary to apologize for Ikkaku's actions. He'd felt it necessary to apologize with a token of his regret. He had bent and scraped to the man who had made it his life's work to bring Ikkaku nothing but misery and humiliation. He had expressly disregarded Ikkaku's feelings and his warnings. And Ikkaku was growing more certain by the second that this was something that had been going on from the moment Yumichika had met his father.
"He's got you wrapped around his finger, and you're so blind that you can't even see what's going on right in front of you."
Now, Ikkaku understood what Pakkay was trying to tell him. Yumichika had been going behind his back, cozying up to his father, even denigrating his best friend, in order to prove that he was right, that father and son should be together. Must be together.
Or to prove simply that he could do it, that his allure could conquer all.
Ikkaku slammed his fist against the wall. What damned difference did it make what Yumichika's reasons were? None at all. The fact was that Yumichika had purposefully gone against his wishes and judgment. He'd kept it hidden and only confessed to it as a "sometimes" occurrence, an aberration, the work of happenstance.
Lies. All lies.
Ikkaku stormed out of the pull barn. He needed answers.
And he needed them now.
"Why are you really doing this?" Ruri'iro Kujaku asked from his perch on the open window sill, where his attention flittered between the thrushes darting among the spring garden stalks outside and his master getting dressed within.
The zanpakuto was exceedingly cheerful. This made three days in a row that his master had invited him to join him in the outside world while Ikkaku was down working at the mill. Having this sort of time together made the remaining hours of isolation tolerable.
But at the moment, he had serious misgivings about his master's proposed course of action for the afternoon.
"I've already told you why," Yumichika replied. "I want to get the things I left there."
"Nonsense," Ruri'iro said knowingly. "An obi and a few blocks of wax? That's no loss."
"It was a good bag, too—"
"Kimi, do you think I'm stupid? You're not going down there to retrieve anything." He paused and leaned forward with suspicion. "Are you hoping to run into that farmhand?"
Yumichika shrugged. "Maybe." He picked up the sword form of Ruri'iro Kujaku and slid it through the obi at his waist.
"You're taking me with you this time? At least, you're showing some sense," Ruri'iro noted. "But tell me why you want to see Pakkay. What are you up to? The last time you saw him, you ended up needing me to save you—"
"That's why I'm taking you with me this time," Yumichika stated.
"But what are you hoping to achieve? Are you—are you going to kill him?" A strange, excited anticipation sounded in the kujaku's voice.
Yumichika found it distasteful. "Of course not. At least, I don't plan to. As long as he keeps his hands off me, everything will be fine."
"So, then I ask you again: why are you really going down there?"
"Because I need some answers. I want to know why he's lying to me and to Ikkaku and Ikkaku's father. I want to know what the fight was really about. I want to know why he . . . ugh—" He made a noise of disgust, ". . . why he came onto me when he's supposedly involved with Ikkaku. I just want to know what's going on, because this is ruining all my plans to get Ikkaku back with his father."
"A desire Madarame does not share with you," Ruri'iro pointed out.
"Only because he doesn't know how much better things can be if the two of them reconcile," Yumichika replied confidently.
"Master, don't you think you would do wise to find out why Madarame hates his father so much before you expend any more energy on this endeavor?" the zanpakuto suggested.
"There's no way Ikkaku would tell me," Yumichika answered. "And I'm not interested in what happened in the past. I just want to make the present right."
Ruri'iro sighed in defeat. "Very well, then. I'm grateful I did not inherit your stubborn streak."
Yumichika gave a one-sided grin. "Whatever you say. Now, return. Let's go."
Ruri'iro disappeared back into the inner world. As his master left the cottage, the zanpakuto spoke in silence. "Don't be afraid to use me."
"I hope I won't have to."
Three speed moves brought him to the intersection of the northern road and the mountain path. Here he stopped abruptly, for coming along the road from the direction of the village was Totui Madarame and two of his farmhands.
Totui saw him from a distance and waved his arm.
Yumichika waited, and as three men drew closer, he was surprised to see that the obi he had left at Pakkay's was around Totui's waist.
"Yumichika-kun! It's nice to see you!" Totui shouted as he closed the ground between them. He sent his two hands on ahead and stopped for a chat. "I just came from the mill. I saw Ikkaku, but he was headed out somewhere."
"He's always on the run," Yumichika smiled. "I see you got the obi I made for you."
"Yes, yes, I did! Pakkay brought it over a day or two ago. He said you accidentally left it at his place," Totui said amiably. "That was nice of him, wasn't it? He has every reason to keep it for himself, considering all that's happened. But I'm glad he gave it to me. It's splendid. You have quite a talent."
"I've been doing it for years, even when I was in the world of the living," Yumichika replied.
"I can tell," Totui said. "The workmanship is top-notch, and the design . . . beautiful. Thank you very much. You didn't have to give me anything, though."
"It was my way of apologizing for what happened between Ikkaku and Pakkay. Ikkaku admitted that he was the one who started the whole thing—"
"Don't be so sure of that. There's a good chance that Pakkay might have provoked him," Totui interjected. "Either way, you didn't have to apologize."
"I just don't want anything to—I want you and Ikkaku to have a chance at . . . at . . . "
"I know," Totui said, taking a step forward and placing a hand on Yumichika's shoulder. "And that's very kind of you. Sadly, I'm afraid it won't make any difference." He walked past him towards a watering trough a few feet down the road, where he stopped to splash some water on his face.
"Why not?" Yumichika asked. "Isn't it worth trying?"
Totui wiped his face on his sleeve. "I once thought so. I'm not so sure anymore. Ikkaku will never be able to forgive me, and . . . maybe he has good reason." He sat down on the edge of the trough. "I made a lot of mistakes – terrible mistakes – when Ikkaku was young. He's hated me for it ever since. I tried to make it up to him when he got older, but it was too late. He wanted nothing to do with me." He paused. "That's why I'm here. I searched all over Soul Society for him. I finally found him and decided to settle here to see if I could fix things. But it's clear to me now that it's just too late. There's nothing I can do."
"But there may be something I can do," Yumichika put forth. "I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I do know that Ikkaku isn't unreasonable. He isn't cold-hearted. Given time, he'll come around. There's nothing he wouldn't do for me."
Totui nodded. "I believe that. Like I said before, he seems to be very fond of you. I might even go so far as to say he loves you."
"That wouldn't be such a stretch," Yumichika replied with a chuckle. "We've been friends a long time, and I think it's safe to say he does love me as a friend – though he'd never admit it."
"I think you might be the only friend he's ever had," Totui commented.
"No, I'm not the only one," Yumichika replied, thinking of Kaekae and some of the villagers in Venla. Perhaps they could not really be called friends, but they were close acquaintances with whom Ikkaku had maintained amicable relations.
"But you'd like to be," Totui supposed, to which Yumichika reacted with mild surprise.
"No, not at all." He paused. "I know what it's like to be . . . coveted. I know what it's like to be hoarded, when people don't want to share you with anyone else."
"Yes, I can imagine," Totui said with a thoughtful nod.
"But Ikkaku's never been like that," Yumichika went on. "He's been protective of me, because . . . well, I don't always make the best decisions."
Totui seemed genuinely pleased. "It makes me happy to hear you talk about Ikkaku that way. He'll always be my son, and every father wants to feel proud of his son."
"You have reason to be proud, Totui-san," Yumichika told him, then noticing that the sun was already directly overhead, he announced, "I should be going."
"I'm glad I ran into you," Totui said graciously. "Thank you again. Thank you for all you're trying to do."
Yumichika nodded modestly. He began walking towards the village, waiting until Totui was out of sight before employing the speed move to head back towards the orchards. He still had his original purpose to fulfill.
"Which one of these damned sheds is it?"
Ikkaku had already checked at least a dozen of the wooden structures on Maiweg's property. None of them showed any sign of being lived in. Granted, there were probably close to a hundred of the storage sheds, but Ikkaku was starting wonder if Yumichika had either lied to him yet again or hallucinated the entire episode.
He had come to the boundary hedge of one plot when he saw a man enter the same plot from the other side of the opposite hedge.
It was Pakkay.
"Pakkay!" Ikkaku shouted.
The former farmhand looked to see who was calling him and, recognizing Ikkaku, he took the diagonal across the plot and came to meet him.
"Madarame-san. I never expected to see you out here," he began. "You come looking for another fight?"
Ikkaku was grave. "No. I came looking for answers."
Pakkay was aloof. "To what questions?"
"Why did you lie to Yumichika about me and you? Why did you tell the same lie to my father?" Ikkaku demanded.
Instead of an immediate, flippant answer, Pakkay took a moment before replying, "Wishful thinking, I guess."
"Wishful thinking?"
Pakkay leaned against the trunk of one of the budding cherry trees. "I told Ayasegawa because I was hoping he'd tell you, and you'd be interested. Look, Madarame-sama told me you and Ayasegawa were lovers. Ayasegawa told me you weren't, and well . . . since I thought you were attractive, I decided to see if maybe we could, uh, you know. It all ended up backfiring on me."
"I heard you were fired," Ikkaku prompted.
"You heard right."
"Because of the fight."
"Sort of."
Ikkaku narrowed his eyes. "Because you told my father we were lovers. Why did you lie to him, too?"
Pakkay hesitated, his eyes downcast. "Because I was angry. I was angry because you didn't want me. I was angry because Madarame-sama fired me. So I wanted to hurt him and you the same way you both hurt me. I told him that lie, because I knew he'd be furious, and I didn't care at that point." A pause as he raised his eyes to look at Ikkaku. "But he already knew. Ayasegawa had already told him what I'd been saying, but Madarame-sama didn't think I was lying. He believed me." Another pause. "I guess Ayasegawa must have felt guilty because he came looking for me the other day to apologize. He brought me an obi he had made as a peace offering. It's back in the shed."
"You told me you were afraid of getting fired because you had seen things you weren't supposed to see, that Yumichika was doing stuff behind my back," Ikkaku said. "You were talking about the time he was spending with my father, trying to convince him to make peace with me, weren't you?"
Pakkay paled and looked stricken. "Yes. I knew you didn't want Ayasegawa around your father, and I thought that . . . well, if Ayasegawa really cared about you, he wouldn't have been doing something you didn't want." He took a few steps to one side, seemed to ponder his words, then turned slowly to face Ikkaku. "He has – you must know that he has some very . . . interesting methods of persuasion."
"Like what?" Ikkaku's query was flat.
"I don't—I don't really know how to describe it," Pakkay replied. "He just turns it on, and it's like a moth being drawn to a flame."
Ikkaku's heart sank. "I know what it's like."
"Well, he's very good at using it, and . . . he used it with Madarame-sama all the time," Pakkay went on.
Ikkaku felt his insides churning and tightening into knots. There was no way Pakkay could know about Yumichika's ability unless he had experienced it himself or seen it in action.
"Did he ever use it on you?" he asked.
Pakkay made a disparaging laugh. "I don't think Ayasegawa ever gave me a second look. All the time I was trying to convince him about you and me, he didn't even seem to care."
"Oh, he cared," Ikkaku replied. At that moment, he was so furious with Yumichika that he could barely think straight. Lies. Lies upon lies. Yumichika had made a fool of him, not only in front of his father, but in front of his father's worker. In front of everyone. How many people were laughing at him behind his back? And he had no doubt in his mind that Yumichika had been doing exactly as Pakkay said – using his seductive powers to try and entice his father into a reconciliation that would then have nothing to do with a genuine contrition and love, but everything to do with succumbing to Yumichika's sexual allure.
Pakkay was still speaking. "I just should have been honest. I should have come out and told you how I felt face-to-face. Then you could have at least turned me down directly."
Ikkaku looked at him and felt a sudden affinity with the man whom only moments earlier he had despised. Pakkay was now an outcast, just as Ikkaku had once been. The farmhand may have done some stupid things and played a foolish game, but the true foulness, the greater insult had been on Yumichika's part. The breach of trust was Yumichika's – and Yumichika's alone.
"Who says I'd have turned you down?" Ikkaku was not surprised at his words. This was not a spur-of-the-moment decision. This was a calculated choice. It may have been driven by anger and a feeling of betrayal, but it was not something over which he had no control. Spite was a powerful motivator, and at the moment, it was all he felt for Yumichika.
Pakkay regarded him with incredulous hope. "Well, we haven't exactly had positive exchanges in the past."
"Who gives a damn?" Ikkaku said. "We've both been screwed. You by my father. Me by Yumichika. What's left to lose?"
"But you care about Ayasegawa," Pakkay pointed out. "And I don't think you want to hurt him."
"He doesn't need to find out," Ikkaku answered. "And even if he does, so what? Maybe it will teach him a lesson."
A smile slowly crept into Pakkay's face. "You know I'm not going to turn you down. I've wanted this for months."
Ikkaku did not return the smile. For him, this was a matter of utility. "I've never wanted it." He made a visual sweep over Pakkay's body and took a step forward. "But I do now. You look like you can handle it."
Pakkay gave a chuckle of anticipation. "I guarantee you, that won't be a problem."
The shed was empty.
Yumichika spotted his bag lying near the foot of the bed. The obi he had made was draped over the top of the bag.
Pakkay must be out in the orchard somewhere. Yumichika could use Ruri'iro Kujaku to sift out the farmhand's meager riatsu, the ability to detect spirit energy being one of the zanpakuto's greatest skills.
Yumichika retrieved his bag, leaving the obi. It was still a gift, and the truth now was that he would be happy never to see it again.
He walked outside into the warmth of the afternoon.
"Ruri'iro Kujaku, find Pakkay's spiritual pressure," he said out loud.
"He barely has any—"
"Find what he has," Yumichika insisted. "I know you can detect it." He could sense the kujaku's displeasure, but a moment later, he got his answer, not in words but in the interior directing of his thoughts. He began walking. No speed move this time. He needed the time to think of what he was going to say and how he was going to handle the situation.
He went first along the main wagon road for nearly half a kilometer when Ruri'iro Kujaku directed him to leave the road for a grassy path lined on one side by a stone fence enclosing a plot of young cherry trees. He followed the path to a wooden stile over another stone fence, past a derelict and crumbling wooden shed, and into a plot of more mature cherry trees.
Here, Ruri'iro Kujaku suddenly spoke.
"Master, stop. This isn't a good idea."
Yumichika slowed down but did not stop. "Why?"
"Because . . . it's dangerous." The hesitation in Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice told Yumichika there was more to the story.
"I've got you with me," he said. "If he tries anything, I'll be able to take care of it."
"Master, we should go back," Ruri'iro persisted. "This serves no purpose. It will only make things worse."
"I have to find out what is going on," Yumichika replied stubbornly. "It doesn't—"
His voice fell off abruptly, and he stopped in his tracks.
A faint sensation pricked his awareness. At first, he thought he had to be mistaken, but then he felt it again.
Ikkaku's riatsu.
"No, it can't be. He wouldn't go after Pakkay again,"Yumichika said internally, and although he wasn't speaking to Ruri'iro Kujaku, it was the peacock who answered.
"Master, let's go back."
Yumichika was silent in concentration. After several seconds, he announced, "It is Ikkaku's riatsu. I can barely feel it, but it's his." He began walking again, this time in the direction of the riatsu, Ruri'iro Kujaku admonishing him all the way. With each step, the sensation grew stronger until it was roiling with unfettered power and emotion.
"Master . . . master!" Ruri'iro Kujaku sounded a desperate warning. "I know you can feel that! Go back! He's enraged!
"Yes, I can feel that, but . . . there's something else," Yumichika replied.
Ruri'iro Kujaku was astounded that his master could not decipher what that something else was. The zanpakuto had recognized it immediately. It was a ravenous, capacious sexual hunger, utterly void of any sentiment. Raw physical want.
Coupled with the fury and hate Ruri'iro was also sensing, it was a dangerous combination.
"Master, that's not important. Don't you feel it? That anger is for you!" the zanpukuto said.
Yumichika ignored him and continued forward, moving slowly and stealthily. His entire body was vibrating with the force of Ikkaku's flaring riatsu, but at least he was managing to subdue his own riatsu so as to remain undetected.
He was coming to an opening in the stone wall, the passage from one plot into the next. He knew that Ikkaku was somewhere on the other side of that wall. He drew in a deep breath and stepped into the gap.
The plot into which he had entered was at least a hundred and fifty meters long and too wide for him to even see the boundary to his left. But straight ahead, at the far end of the plot, he saw what he had come to find.
Two men were on the ground. They were clearly engaged in some sort of activity; and although Yumichika could not see clearly across the distance, he immediately determined they were not fighting. He began walking with stilted steps, his movements growing stiffer, his breathing more shallow.
Ruri'iro Kujaku was still calling out to him, urging him to turn back, but his voice was distant now. The world and everything in it was shrinking down to the scene in front of him.
Ikkaku and Pakkay.
Not fighting.
They were naked, grappling with each other, their mouths groping, their hands clutching, bodies entwined like glistening snakes. Muffled sounds of desperation and ecstasy punctuated their performance.
A small crack threatened Yumichika's control over his wits and his riatsu. He could not move. He could not stop himself from looking at what was going on right there in front of him, not ten yards away now. He could see the sweat on the men's skin. He could see the expressions on their faces. He could smell their mingled scents, stronger than the cherry blossoms around them.
He felt faint. He was going to lose control if he stayed any longer.
And then Pakkay raised his head, and his eye met Yumichika's.
"Oh—we, uh, we have company," he stammered, but the expression on his face was anything but ashamed or timid.
Ikkaku looked up. "Yumichika!"
Yumichika stumbled back several steps before turning and running. He was fast, but his upset was so great and his thoughts in such turmoil, that he could not manage a decent speed through the orchard. Within seconds, he could hear footsteps behind him. A glance over his shoulder showed Ikkaku was the pursuer. He contemplated using the speed movement, but Ruri'iro Kujaku warned against it.
"You can't use that here with all these trees and walls! You're too upset! You're not concentrating! You're going to kill yourself!"
Yumichika paid him no heed. He would risk it if it meant getting away from Ikkaku. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing him right now, and he was certain he didn't want to hear anything Ikkaku had to say.
His first attempt was as not quite as disastrous as Ruri'iro Kujaku had warned. He advanced close to fifty meters before slamming into a tree. He went down hard but without any serious injury and was back on his feet quickly, now with a little more distance between him and Ikkaku.
His second attempt effectively put an end to the chase as he nicked one of the stone walls and was sent flying into another, bringing it down, stone-by-stone around him.
He was slow to get up from that one, and by the time he regained his feet, Ikkaku had caught up with him, and leaping over the jumble of stones, took Yumichika by the arms and pulled him onto more level footing.
"Yumichika, what—"
"Let go of me!" Yumichika shouted, twisting away only to have Ikkaku grip him more firmly.
"Stop fighting!" Ikkaku ordered. "You've got a lot of explaining to do!"
Yumichika glared at him, noticing now that Ikkaku had put his kosode back on but it was untied and gaping in the front, revealing his nudity and the fact that he was still aroused, even after the chase. The sight made Yumichika feel both nauseated and enraged.
"Me? What about—what about—look at you! You could—you could at least . . . cover up for the sake of decency!"
"That's not what this is about, and you know it!" Ikkaku spat out, making no attempt at modesty. He pulled Yumichika so they were face-to-face. "You've been lying to me and making a fool out of me all this time."
"You were lying to me!" Yumichika retorted. "You said you weren't having sex with Pakkay, and you were!"
"I wasn't!" Ikkaku shot back, fire in his eyes. "This was the first time something like this happened! But you! You were seeing my father behind my back, trying to seduce him, apologizing for me when nothing was my fault! Damn you, Yumichika! You know nothing about me and my father!"
"That's because you won't tell me—"
"Tell me how my father ended up with a piece of clothing you made," Ikkaku demanded.
Yumichika hesitated.
Ikkaku persisted. "How did he end up with something you made?"
"I made it for him," Yumichika replied, squirming in Ikkaku's grasp. "Ikkaku, that hurts. Let go."
Ikkaku did not let go. "Why did you make something for him?"
When Yumichika did not answer, Ikkaku replied to his own question. "As an apology for the fight I had with Pakkay."
Yumichika nodded.
The vein in Ikkaku's temple pulsed. "How did he get it?"
"Let go of me first," Yumichika said quietly.
Ikkaku's patience had run its course. Instead of releasing him, he tightened his grip and shook him abruptly. "How did he get it?"
"Ikkaku—"
"How did he get it, Yumichika?"
Yumichika's own sense of outrage and indignation swelled up. He jerked free and glared back at Ikkaku. "I don't know! Pakkay must have given it to him, because I—I left it here when I forgot my bag!"
Ikkaku stared at him in silence for a moment, then his anger exploded with enough force to make Yumichika step back in retreat.
"You damned liar! You went to his farm and gave it to him yourself, didn't you? You went behind my back just like you've been doing and gave it to him! You didn't just run into him! You purposefully went to see him! What the hell kind of game do you think you're playing, Yumichika! I told you to stay the hell away from him!"
Yumichika might have felt intimidated, but he was not going to give in.
"Stop trying to order me around!" he shouted back. "I didn't give it to him, but I had planned to!" His manner was defiant. "I left it here by accident, and Pakkay must have given it him! I gave one to Pakkay, too! I thought I was doing a good thing! I was trying to help you—"
Ikkaku lunged forward before Yumichika could evade him and grabbed the neck of his kimono. "Where my father is concerned, I don't need your help! I just need you to do as I tell you!"
"Well, I'm not going to!"
Ikkaku glowered at him with rage. He could not believe that Yumichika was defying him.
"Oh, yes, you are," he seethed.
"What are you going to do? Tie me up and keep me in the cottage?" Yumichika spat.
It occurred to Ikkaku at that moment that he really had no way to prevent Yumichika from doing as he pleased. He would not be violent towards him except in temper. And he could not truss or lock him up. Bullying had not worked. The only thing left was pleading, and that was one thing Ikkaku would not do.
"You really want to push me like this?" he asked bitterly. "Is your need to prove yourself that great?"
"My need to prove myself? What are you talking about?" Yumichika replied.
"I told you to stay away from him, but you couldn't listen to me," Ikkaku said. "You thought you could solve everything. You think that, just by being you, by being beautiful and friendly, that everyone will fall down at your feet. Don't you remember that that attitude is what got you in trouble back in Mito?"
"Stop it—"
"It's going to get you in trouble here, too."
Yumichika pulled away. "Stop it! How dare you say something like that to me?"
"How dare I? You're the one who went behind my back and did what I expressly told you not to—"
"You don't control me!"
"Nobody controls you! You don't even control yourself!" Ikkaku blurted out.
At that moment, Pakkay came around the corner of the stone wall.
Seeing him, Yumichika stepped back. "You . . . you . . . "
"Ayasegawa-san—" Pakkay began, moving forward, reaching his arm out in a dubious gesture.
Yumichika's hand flew to his waist and he drew his sword. "Don't come near me!"
Ikkaku was stunned. "Yumichika, what are you doing?"
"Send him away!" Yumichika demanded.
Pakkay lowered his arm and backed off. "Ayasegawa-san, I know you're upset—"
"Shut up!" Yumichika's voice was nearly a scream. "Leave us! Get out of here now!"
Now, Ikkaku tried to approach him. "Yumichika, put your sword away."
"Not until he leaves!"
"What's wrong with you?" Ikkaku demanded. "You're acting like this is his fault, when it's yours!"
"It's not my fault!" Yumichika protested, and his voice broke. "You lied to me . . . how—how could you do this?"
"The same way you did it with my father—"
"I didn't do anything with your father! How could you think that of me?"
"Because it's who you are! It's like I said, you can't control yourself!"
His words burned like flame. Yumichika felt as if he were, in fact, losing control. His anger was too great to be contained. He was about to retort when he saw Ikkaku's eyes widened.
"What the hell is going on?" Ikkaku said, taking a step back.
Yumichika had no idea what he meant, and he was in too much anguish to care. "Why would you lie to me like this?"
Ikkaku ignored the question. "Look at—look at yourself, Yumichika!" he bellowed. "What's happening to you?"
Yumichika's gaze went down to his hands, and he gasped. A greenish-blue light was rising like smoke from his body.
"What are you doing?" Ikkaku cried out. "Your riatsu is—that's not your normal riatsu! Yumichika!"
Yumichika had no idea what was happening to him. The light he was seeing around his body – he recognized it from his inner world. It was the same light that enveloped Ruri'iro Kujaku. But he did not feel the zanpakutou's presence in this. No, this was something he had brought about apparently all on his own.
And it was consuming him. He could not stop it from intensifying. And as the aura grew stronger, so did the feelings of anger and hurt. At that moment, he felt an urge he'd never felt before.
"Sake . . . sake . . . "
"Yumichika, what are you doing?" Ikkaku yelled, still livid but now fearful for Yumichika's safety.
Yumichika looked back up at Ikkaku, his face cast in helpless confusion.
In his periphery, Ikkaku saw Pakkay spring forward. Before he could stop him, Pakkay had delivered a blow that dropped Yumichika to the ground, unconscious.
Ikkaku leapt forward to Yumichika's side. "What the hell did you do that for?"
"What do you mean? You saw what was happening to him," Pakkay answered, sounding disturbed. "What was that?"
Ikkaku wasn't fully sure himself, but he had an idea. "It was his riatsu."
"His riatsu?" Pakkay sounded incredulous, stepping forward and picking up Yumichika's sword, which had fallen from his hand a few yards away. "You can't see riatsu."
"Apparently, you can," Ikkaku countered, "Because that's what that was." He ran a hand over Yumichika's flushed cheek.
After a brief silence, Pakkay asked, "What do you want to do with him?"
"I'm going to take him home," Ikkaku replied. He looked up and saw Pakkay holding Yumichika's sword. "Give that to me."
Pakkay handed it over. "You, uh, you just want to take him home?"
"What else would I do?" Ikkaku asked, not really expecting an answer and cringing at the feeling he got holding Yumichika's weapon in his hand.
"Well, uh . . . we, uh, there may never be a better chance," Pakkay suggested.
Ikkaku froze for a moment, then he slowly raised his eyes. When he looked at Pakkay, it was as if he were seeing him for the first time.
"A better chance . . . for what?"
Pakkay's voice had a sly inflection. "Look at him . . . you know."
Ikkaku got to his feet. "I hope you're not suggesting what I think you are."
"Why not? Ikkaku-san, you said you and Ayasegawa were never lovers, and I believe you. But don't you want to know what it would be like?" He looked at him with delving eyes. "It's not as if he doesn't deserve it, what with all the lies he told you and the things he was doing with your father behind your back."
Ikkaku stared at him in horror, and it wasn't just at the idea being proposed. No, the realization was dawning in Ikkaku's mind that he and Yumichika had been carefully manipulated and guided to this point – the point of not trusting each other, the point of being jealous and suspicious, even hateful. None of this had happened by mistake. This was all by design. His father's design.
And he had fallen right into it, as had Yumichika.
This ignorant farmhand . . . he wasn't ignorant at all. He wasn't a bit player. He was a skilled deceiver filling a key role in a game that had been set in motion the day Ikkaku had encountered his father in the millhouse. And now that he had succeeded in his purpose, setting Ikkaku and Yumichika at odds with one another, he wanted to celebrate his success by raping the unconscious victim of his ploys.
"If you want to, go ahead," Ikkaku said bluntly. He felt something cold and hard and angry forming in the pit of his stomach.
A surprised grin of delight showed in Pakkay's face. He had expected Ikkaku to put up greater resistance to the idea.
"Do you want the honor of going first?" Pakkay asked, twisted humor in his voice.
"No," Ikkaku replied, moving away from Yumichika. "You go ahead."
Pakkay stepped past him, a sparkle in his eye and anticipation radiating from every part of his body. Ikkaku turned. His fingers tightened around the hilt of Yumichika's sword.
There was no hesitation. He drove the sword into Pakkay's back with enough force to send it protruding out from his chest.
Only a brief gurgling sound preceded Pakkay's collapse to the ground. He fell to his knees as Ikkaku pulled the sword clear. A moment later, the farmhand lay face down in the grass, the life draining out of him.
Ikkaku did not watch the final moments. Instead, he looked at the weapon in his hand, the weapon he so disliked, the one he could not picture covered with blood. And yet, here it was, shining red with the aftermath of death.
Ikkaku's loathing was still intact, but at least he could take some solace in the fact that the weapon could be useful and not only beautiful. He wiped it clean on the hem of Pakkay's tunic, and then he returned to Yumichika.
"I guess we both have trouble with controlling ourselves."
It was the truth, and it while it would not make his decision any easier, it would make it clearer.
He picked him up and began the long walk back to the cottage.