Title: The Span of a Relationship, part three
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Ikkaku x Nemu
Rating: M
Warning: Some language and angst and innuendo.
Summary: A series of short drabbles using themes at IkkaNemu community.
Disclaimer: I am not Kubo Tite, thus I do not own Bleach. I do not own these characters. I am only borrowing them for my own enjoyment.
1. Don't Look Back
Nemu missed Ikkaku, for so many different reasons. She missed his smile. When he smiled she believed that he could accomplish anything. That grin of his could break down the walls she'd built (walls that Mayuri-sama had, in some manner or another, helped to construct) and made her heart beat faster. Nemu had never believed in anything the way she believed in him when he smiled.
She missed his voice, murmuring to her in the night about everything, or nothing. The words never really mattered so much as his voice--rough, yet soft, strong and soothing. Buried in his arms his voice could lull her into the kind of sweet dreams she'd never before experienced. Waking up to the rumble of his snoring, the feel of his chest expanding and collapsing under her cheek, Nemu sometimes wondered if she ever truly woke from her dreaming.
She missed how she felt when she was with him. It was easier to smile when he was holding her. It felt natural to chuckle when he was speaking, doing, being. Nemu had discovered how to be comfortable in her own skin, after watching the ease with which Ikkaku did everything. Watching him strut around the 11th division, barking orders with easy assurance, seeing him lounge in his chair, bare feet propped on the table, zanpakuto resting across his lap, it was hard to imagine that Ikkaku ever once felt uncertain about anything. Everything Ikkaku did was with the same ballsy confidence that Nemu was in complete awe of.
She missed him more than she'd ever thought possible. At times it was a physical ache that took her breath away, weakening her knees and doubling her over in the kind of gut-wrenching pain that made Mayuri-sama's experiments feel like a day at the beach.
Nemu tried to tell herself not to look back. Living in the past would do her no good, and remembering her time with Ikkaku only made her ache.
Don't look back. She told herself, fingers weaving together in front of her. Yet, when she heard his voice behind her, all her will, all her resolve, dissolved as her heart pounded hard into her ribs, struggling to break free and return to the man who had taught her to smile.
She couldn't help but look back.
2. All the Wrong Reasons
Yumichika had been aware that something was going on between Ikkaku and Nemu. Granted, he didn't know precisely what that something was, but he was aware of the change between the two. Tension had suddenly consumed the air between them whenever they were near one another. Yumichika, beauty that he was, was only too familiar with that kind of tension, considering he'd been on the receiving end of it on more than one occasion. That was merely a consequence of being as gorgeous as he was.
To say he'd been surprised would have been an understatement. Ikkaku and Nemu? The 3rd seat of the 11th division and the vice captain of the 12th division? A man who was in every way a thug and the shy beauty that hid behind her father?
How could that even happen?
Yumichika waited for Ikkaku to tell him. Waited for his friend to reveal all the dirty, torrid details of his affair. Waited with the metaphorical bated breath.
And was damned glad he hadn't actually held his breath, seeing as the bald shinigami never bothered to tell him anything. Honestly, what was the point of being a man's best friend if that man was going to withhold the kind of information that was essential for future blackmail/torment. How was he supposed to use Ikkaku's past against him if he wasn't even going to share the needed information.
It was plainly apparent that not only was Ikkaku not going to share, he was also doing a grade A job at royally fucking up whatever was going on with him and Nemu. Really, this was another reason why Ikkaku really needed to share--there was only so much Yumichika could do with the limited knowledge he possessed. If Yumichika had been kept in the loop he might have been able to foresee whatever disaster had struck and prevented it. But no...Ikkaku and his blasted "private" life.
"This is going to require a fair amount of finesse, not to mention a great deal of discretion."
Hisagi eyed Yumichika, one eyebrow lifting as he crossed his arms over his chest. Iba, tilting back onto the hind legs of his chair with his feet propped on his desk, tucked his hands behind his head while Renji leaned against the door frame of the 7th division office.
"The hell're you talkin' 'bout, Ayasekawa?" Iba asked, eyes narrowed behind his slim shades.
Yumichika gave a long suffering sigh. Really, how much was he going to be able to accomplish with a bunch of thugs as his accomplices? "I am referring to Ikkaku's love life. Or rather, his lack of. At least, I am assuming it is a lack of love life that is making him this moody. He has neglected to inform me of the exact nature of his relationship with Nemu."
"Prolly 'cause it ain't any of yer business." Iba commented, though he was grinning. So. Yumichika had noticed as well. Considering how well he knew Ikkaku, he couldn't help but notice that he'd been off for a while now. And any fool with eyes that worked could see the way he looked at Nemu. Not that Iba blamed him--she was one hot piece of ass, but the whole father factor kind of diminished her appeal. Iba liked all his body parts exactly as they were, exactly where they were, and wanted things to stay that way. Ikkaku always had lacked that part of his brain that weighed the risks of a situation versus the benefits. It was a good thing he had Iba, Renji, Hisagi, and apparently Yumichika to make sure that he didn't dig himself an early grave. Wouldn't suit him at all to have his balls ripped out through his nose, which he suspected would be the end results if he tried anything with Nemu.
However, if Nemu could bring back the man who used to be his friend and drinking buddy, then he'd at least give Kurotsuchi a damned hard fight before he tried to castrate Ikkaku.
Yumichika waved away Iba's statement with a graceful flick of his wrist. "Regardless, Iba-fukutaichou, you know as well as I do that Ikkaku is...a little clueless?...when it comes to such things."
"Fucker's dumber'n a brick, ya mean." Renji drawled, grinning slowly.
Yumichika sniffed at the crass words, sitting up straighter in his seat. "That would be a fairly accurate assessment, yes."
Hisagi's expression remained darkly neutral. "What's any of this gotta do with us?"
Yumichika smiled sweetly at Hisagi, brushing his fine hair off his cheek to dip his lids a bit, the decorative feathers at the corner of his eyes accenting his delicate features perfectly. His smile widened when Hisagi did not appear to react. A challenge? He liked that. Almost as much as he liked Hisagi's tattoo...
"Ikkaku is your friend as much as he is mine. I want to find out what is going on with him and Nemu, and I want to snap him out of the funk he's in. Using any means necessary."
Renji snorted loudly, the un-beautiful sound making Yumichika glare at him. "Yeah right. You mean you're tired of Ikkaku bein' a secretive bastard an' you wanna find out what he's been keepin' from ya."
Iba grinned, settling his chair on all four legs with a thump. "Who gives a fuck 'bout the reasoning? Wrong reasons or not, it's fer his own damned good."
Hisagi's mouth quirked slightly. "Yeah, I doubt he'll see it that way..."
3. Beginning at the Beginning
To say that Ikkaku appreciated the intervention would have been a stretch of the definition of the word "appreciate." In fact, in reality, it was no where near the definition of "appreciate," but they didn't take it personally. After all, if he was a little less dense he'd realize it was for his own good and be grateful. Wasn't his fault he was dumb as fuck.
Hisagi glared at Ikkaku, shoving him back into his seat.
"Back the fuck off, Hisagi." Ikkaku made to rise again but this time Renji thumped the heel of his palm against the bald shinigami's head, smacking him back into his seat. Enraged now Ikkaku bolted to his feet, knocking his chair back. "The fuck--!"
Iba grinned, pulling the two apart. "'Bout damned time you stopped actin' like a pansy bitch." He kicked the chair out of the way and offered Ikkaku a smirk.
"The hell you talkin' 'bout?" Ikkaku glared at Iba, looking like he still wanted to lay a few hits onto Renji. It was the most energetic he'd been since...well. He didn't wanna think about it.
"He's referring to your lackluster performance these past few months, Ikkaku." Yumichika grinned, flicking his hair out of his eyes. Ikkaku turned his furious gaze to him, baring his teeth. "And before you try to deny it, please remember that when you stop doing your job I am one of the first ones to feel the extra weight." He sighed here in a put upon manner, managing to look both tired and gorgeous.
"So? Wazzat matter to you?" Here he looked at Renji, Iba, and Hisagi, jaw locked. He'd argue with Yumichika about his work performance later, but first he wanted to know why this required the interference of the others.
"It matters 'cause ya've also been shirkin' on the drinkin', and frankly my wallet can't take it anymore. By my count you owe us five nights worth of rounds." Iba said, tilting his head in a thoughtful manner.
"Like hell I do! I ain't been out drinkin' with ya fuckers, why the hell I gotta pay--"
"That's precisely the point, Ikkaku." Yumichika met his friend's gaze, his expression serious. "You've stopped doing the things you enjoy. And you've been, quite frankly, sullen. Even Fukutaichou has noticed. And you know that if she noticed..."
Ikkaku nodded slowly, eying Yumichika. If Yachiru had picked up on his moodiness than it was beginning to have an effect. He looked at the sky, sighing.
"So...wha'dya want?"
"Tell us what's made ya all..." Renji frowned, gesturing vaguely. None of them wanted to say the word, because to suggest that any of them could get depressed suggested that they were not as invulnerable as they thought. He wouldn't want anyone accusing him of being depressed, and so he'd never accuse one of his friends of being in such a state. This lack of labeling was more to protect the group's sanctity than anything else; who'd ever heard of depressed thugs?
Ikkaku sighed, the exhalation long as he continued to eye the sky. He could have been vague on the details--he'd never told any of them about his and Nemu's relationship. After a moments pause he decided against being vague. These guys had been his friends for longer than he could remember, and had gotten into more shit with him then he cared to remember. If there was anyone he could trust to keep their tongues behind their teeth, it was them.
So, taking a deep breath, he began at the beginning.
4. Promise Not Forever
In that long stretch of time after they stopped seeing each other, Ikkaku had gone through stages. At first he'd been in denial--he refused to believe that she really didn't want to be with him anymore. It couldn't be true--the woman that had snuck into his room at night and laid on his bed, watching him work, content just to be in his presence, would not have left him over something as trivial as her father's approval.
Well, if he allowed himself to think rationally about it, he'd admit that it wasn't that trivial. But...it hurt, nonetheless. Knowing that she didn't think he was worth the risk of being with hurt more than anything else. He'd known, from the beginning, that her father would not approve of Ikkaku seeing Nemu. And he didn't care--for her, he would risk Kurotsuchi's wrath. Fuck, knowing what that bastard did to Nemu, Ikkaku privately looked forward to the day Kurotsuchi confronted him. The mere thought made adrenaline pound through his veins at the chance to tell Kurotsuchi exactly how often he and Nemu had bumped uglies--in his own damned division--and then letting the freaky-ass 12th division captain taste the sharp end of Hozoukimaru.
What he hadn't counted on was Nemu leaving him before that could happen. That possibility had never occurred to him. He'd always thought that...well, he'd thought she knew...how he felt.
After denial came anger. He couldn't say that he was angry at Nemu, exactly. More he was angry at himself, for believing that they would last. He'd learned, long ago, that the fewer people you relied on, the less likely you were to be disappointed. Since discovering this he'd come to rely on very few people--and even then, his reliance was as minimal as he could manage. Because of the structure of the Gotei-13, it was occasionally necessary to look to someone else for aide. Ikkaku did everything in his power to limit those occasions, but in the end knew that there were one or two people within his division that wouldn't let him down.
He'd thought Nemu would never let him down. When she had, his anger hadn't directed itself at her--even hurt, he couldn't bring himself to be mad at her. Instead, he was furious at himself for misjudging her. He'd thought she was strong enough to stand up to her father if he was at her side, only to find that she wasn't confident enough in his loyalty to her, nor in his ability to help her, to take that first step to freeing herself from her father.
He'd miscalculated. He hadn't made it clear that he would be there for her, and for that he would never forgive himself.
It seemed natural to go from anger to bargaining. He was not consciously aware of when the change took place, but he found himself one day swearing to himself that, if Nemu would only give him another chance, he'd never give her reason to doubt his support of her. If only she'd look at him one more time, he'd find the guts to approach her and work things out. He'd do anything--fuck, he'd even be nice to Kurotsuchi!--if it meant she would smile just one more time.
The depression that followed bargaining was short-lived. Something happened during this stage. Laying in his bed, Ikkaku thought back to their moments together. And, upon reflection, he realized that there was something he'd never told her. He supposed that he merely assumed she knew--there were times when she seemed to read his mind. Looking back, he guessed that he'd merely assumed she would know that which he'd never said.
Now, though, he knew he should have voiced it.
He'd told her, more than once, as his lips had danced over the hollow at the base of her throat, that he loved her. He'd told her, every time they parted ways, kisses grazing over her cheekbone, that she had his heart.
What he'd failed to tell her was that, when he told her he loved her, he was silently promising forever--until his death, the end of his forever, he would love her.
And so, when he moved from depression to acceptance, it was not an acceptance of his and Nemu's split. It was, instead, an acceptance of what he had to do.
He had to get her back.