Title: Meetings
Rating: PG-13 language and Ikkaku's ignorance
Warnings: pre-YAOI, cussing, violence, bigoted remarks that in no way reflect my own opinions, spoilerish for Ch. 206 but not really
Pairings/Characters: Ikkaku, Yumichika
Summary: Judge not lest ye be judged.
AN: Just my musings of how Ikkaku and Yumichika meet. All I really know is that they're hanging out by the time Ikkaku gets his ass kicked by pre-shinigami!Kenpachi, so yeah. Just having some fun with 11th Division's longest-running couple. I might do more in this vein, I might not, I dunno.

The first time they met, Ikkaku tried to take him for all he was worth. Lying face down in the dirt of some rukongai roadway, Ikkaku oozed fake blood from fake wounds and patiently waited for the next bleeding-heart boy scout to come along.

By all counts, it was a good grift.

Ikkaku's favorite, really. Simple, yet effective, two things Ikkaku excelled at.

It worked well enough solo, though much better with others despite diminished returns. Alone or with associates, on those rare occasions he found it necessary to hook in with some of the local punks, Ikkaku usually pulled in enough to cover lodging, food, and necessary expenses. The blood was his own recipe, a realistic yet cheaply-made mockery that was slow to dry, and stood out as one of Ikkaku's finer moments of inspiration. Quick on the draw and undefeated in a fair-enough fight, Ikkaku had just enough wits to pull this trick off and managed to consistently scrape his way through the afterlife depending solely on the kindness of weaker strangers.

Until Yumichika came along and fucked it all up.

That prissy-assed bastard.

Ikkaku had lain there, face down, for almost an hour with no takers, surreptitiously shifting his position to keep from going numb. The sun hung high in the air, stealing any shade he might have enjoyed while leisurely baking his skin. A couple flies showed interest in the congealing mess smeared and pooled around Ikkaku's crumpled form; he had to continually convince himself that, despite how annoying they were, the flies were good for the act.

When at long last he heard the slowing of footsteps, Ikkaku had to hold back his joy, listen, and wait; as risky as it was, Ikkaku had gotten used to the blind attack and trusting his ears to tell him when to go. The strides were either small or the steps quick and the body they carried hardly weighing a thing, this much he could hear. Alone, the mark slowed as he approached, stopping just out of range.

A shy guy, eh? Cautious little bugger.

Ikkaku tightened the fist seemingly pinned beneath himself around his dagger's handle and upped the ante. His breathing, already shallow, took on a labored, ragged, rasp that forced itself all watery and weak around a good, thick drool. The mark edged closer and Ikkaku could feel reprieve for his flesh where his body blocked out the sun.

Just a little closer, almost there...

Brilliant pain surprised Ikkaku as a well-aimed kick landed deep in his unprotected side. The sickening crunch informed Ikkaku that his ribs surrendered and his lungs shoved all the air they held out in mass exodus. Rolling to avoid the next blow, Ikkaku scrambled to the nearby brush and his hidden sword. He needed to keep this attacker at arm-and-blade's length and the dagger seemed too close, too dangerous. Smirking as his fingers found their prey and getting more than a little excited about the pain that pushed towards adrenaline-doused pleasure, Ikkaku whirled on his opponent.

And, making his first mistake, stopped dead on the spot.

The only thing Ikkaku loved more than a grift gone well was a good fight, but even he had some morals, however skewed they might have been.

First on the list: never hit a lady.

"Oi," Ikkaku snapped at the woman, "what the fuck do ya' think yer doin'!"

"It's not very polite to rob people, you know."

Ikkaku spat, shoved his dagger in his belt, and dropped his sword easily to his side. He eyed her warily and the woman eyed him back, expression uninterested and barely there under hooded lids. Standing as tall as her small frame allowed, she wore a mannish cut to her clothes and her poorly-cut hair pulled away from her face. Definitely not a working woman, Ikkaku figured, not with such baggy clothes, but obviously of a lower class. No woman with any reason to live traveled this far out without a escort of some sort.

Still a damn fine-looking lady, even if she was a real bitch.

Ikkaku spat again, this time at the woman's feet. Sure, he couldn't hit the scrawny, little chick but he sure as hell didn't have to show her any respect. She frowned at this gesture, sniffing oh-so-condescendingly, infuriating Ikkaku even more.

"Whatsit to you?" he growled, eyeing her while he prodded at his ribs, assessing the damage. "None of your godsdamned business, what I do."

"True. But you annoyed me."

"Annoyed you! You completely bat-shit, woman! You broke some of ma' ribs an'... Oi! Don't you walk away when I'm talkin' to you, you ugly-ass whore!"

Apparently tired of the conversation, the woman had the nerve to turn her back on Ikkaku and walk off, apparently tired of her impromptu bought of violence and the results there of. She waved her hand airily over her shoulder, brushing him off and forgetting him already.

But then Ikkaku had to go and call her ugly.

The woman stopped dead.

Before he could even block with his sheathed sword she buried her fist well into his cheek. Spinning from the blow's force, Ikkaku tried to steady himself and counter without striking out. Not fast enough. For the second time in five minutes he felt her heel slam into him; this time his lower back took the brunt of the blow and he toppled forward. Able to tuck his head in at the last second, Ikkaku rolled over and back on his feet, whirling around in time to rebuff her next attack with the scabbard but lost his dagger in the process. Sliding back the woman bent, found the knife in the dust, and without a breath or a blink, hurled it at Ikkaku; it struck and stuck in his thigh with sickening ease.

His ribs had something nasty to say about that last tumble but this new pain beat all. Real blood-blooms blossomed as crimson soaked into his clothing, dripped down his leg into the dust, and generally made a mess of things. Ikkaku's back found a tree's thick trunk to collide with and catch his falling body. He now hurt from top to bottom, broken and bleeding everywhere, and this crazy little cunt looked ready to kill him.

Ikkaku grinned, all teeth and love of violence.

Maybe he'd have to break his rules, just this once. Passing up a fight like this would practically be a sin. This girl knew how to handle herself and besides, she already had a handicap when considering his injuries; he blatantly ignored the fact that she had given herself her own advantage. Pulling the knife from his leg and unsheathing his sword, Ikkaku almost laughed as he lunged forward, making his first attack in the whole confrontation.

"You'd attack an unarmed man?" the woman scoffed, dodging easily. "I thought you were despicable but now I know you're evil."

"The only thing I'm attackin' is some idiot chick who thinks she can take me out 'cause I insulted her piss-poor 'ppearance."

"And your stupidity, does it know no bounds?"

"Th'hell that s'posed to mean?" he ground out, his frustration mounting as no blow found their target. Maybe his injuries were worse than he thought. It felt like molasses had swallowed his limbs and Ikkaku couldn't keep up with the quick-footed woman; as his vision began to dim he could hardly see her as well.

"I'm a man, you dim-witted, two-bit, petty thief."

"Sure as hell don't talk like one," huffed Ikkaku, his movements losing accuracy if not power; he took out a small shrubbery when the other dodged once more. "Too damn delicate in the face and shit. Too godsdamn flighty, too. Hold still, damn it!"

And now she... he was laughing at him! Finally looking interested in the fight, or at the very least the conversation, the other man's enjoyment pealed loudly in Ikkaku's already-ringing ears.

"Delicate! You think I'm beautiful, don't you? Admit it!"

Refusing to answer such a stupid question, Ikkaku lunged wildly at his opponent, who hardly seemed to oppose him anymore, the no-fun moron. Unfortunately, by that time Ikkaku had bled so much the road had turned to mud in places and he disastrously found his footing in the middle of one such muck-patch. Filth squelched around his knees as he went down, biting his cheek to hold back the pained scream he knew was coming.

It came anyways.

And then strong hands helped him, albeit roughly, over onto his back and into a better position.

They also became intimate with his thigh, pressing themselves over his wound, but Ikkaku couldn't be bothered with how close another man's hands were to his jewels, no matter how wrong an action.. Whether or not those hands intended to finish him soon, that he focused on; he rather hoped they would after his embarrassingly huge failure in judgement and skill.

"Jus'... Do it," Ikkaku ground out, trying to push the other away. "Kill me already!"

"Later, I promise," he smiled, pulling off his sash with one hand in order to tie it into a tourniquet around Ikkaku's thigh. There were those fingers again, too close for comfort.

Mustering his strength, Ikkaku shoved the man off of him and tried to pull himself up. Blood loss and fractured bits told him to stay down and he tottered a moment, considering their pleas, before steadying himself with his sword. The sheath lost somewhere nearby, Ikkaku had no choice but to bury the naked blade in the mud as he supported his weight on it's length. If the bit-... bastard wasn't going to off him then Ikkaku would i make /i him finish it.

"You have got to be kidding me," his opponent-turned-nurse sighed, the mirth leaking from his thin face.

"I ain't dead yet, am I? Then the fight ain't over, not 'til I'm dead or you."

"You want so badly to die," the other replied, "then I will just have to see what I can do."

Ikkaku readied himself as the other man took his fighting stance, watching his opponent's every move. He had one more pass left in him, maybe two but Ikkaku doubted it; he had to wait for the right moment. Surging forward, the stranger threw a wide right and Ikkaku rolled, raking his blade across the other's belly. Hope sparked within him only to be over-shadowed by the exploding pain in his jaw; Ikkaku only had a moment to be glad he didn't bite his tongue in half when a second blow followed and he blacked out completely.

Ikkaku couldn't tell whether he died again, but either way the pain disappeared.

And reappeared with gleeful vengeance when he awoke sometime later, laid up in a shitty inn under the care of the local medicine woman's too-ugly-to-marry-so-might-as-well-apprentice-her assistant.

The woman's overbearing attention, paired with incessant, unwanted thoughts about the stranger-bastard who left him alive and broken, made for a miserable week or recuperation. Not one to lie prone with his brain trying to hold a conversation with itself, Ikkaku slept his days away to avoid his own mutinous mind, as well as the obnoxious healer's prattlings. At night he tested himself, seeing how much closer he could get himself to the outhouse and how much further he could get away from bed pans.

Damn fool invention if you asked him. Downright foul.

With an almost-full moon in the sky and the ability to walk with only the slightest of limps, Ikkaku made his escape from on the seventh night. Having no intention of paying for his care, he founds his things in the room's small cupboard and, without a glance or a grain of guilt, snuck out of the inn.

Only with the fresher air of the open road in his lungs and the lights of the town lost behind ten bends did Ikkaku allow himself a laugh at the idiots he left behind. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out his pipe and tobacco tin to prepare a celebratory smoke.

"Mother-fucking, limp-wristed pile of shit!" Ikkaku shouted at his empty tobacco tin. Checking his wallet he found it in nearly the same condition, save for a neatly-folded note tucked in where money should have been. Ripping the piece of paper out, Ikkaku opened it with all the anger he could muster and struggled over the perfectly-written words in the dim moonlight.

I knew that once you found out I graciously paid for your medical care you would want to bestow upon me a small token of your gratitude. Considering that you were unconscious upon my exit, I helped myself to what only seemed fair. Thank you so much for your generosity!

Until we meet again,

Yumichika Ayasegawa

P.S. - Please take care. Your life is mine and I so hate sharing with others! 3

Grumbling and growling Ikkaku crush the note in his fist. Hurling it into the dark woods around him, he felt no better for taking his rage out on the bit of paper and ink. Ikkaku couldn't wait until he came to the next town; he'd find the seediest bar, get real drunk, beat up the biggest guy there, and run out on his tab. As soon as he got that out of the way, then he'd start searching.

Yumichika, huh?

That pretty little bitch didn't have a prayer.

-fin-