Disclaimer:I don't own Bleach...

Warning:... Lot's of gore but if you read the first chapter, than you'll be just fine with this.

P.s:...don't criticize me, ok? It's just an idea. I don't know if that's even possible!

The blood seethed freely from the dark-haired male's chest, just where his heart is. Was. The throbs once in place were slipping and crashing between five dirty fingers covered in deep shade of crimson. The beating quickened, becoming louder, stronger and more intense as wide violet eyes focused dizzily on the sickeningly-pink/red-shaded muscle in the man's clutches -his heart, in Ikkaku's bare hand.

Pressing, crashing, burning, stinging, choking. It hurt. The pain was so immense that he couldn't even scream. He trembled uncontrollably, both from the unbearable pain and the horror of the situation. His breaths came in choked gasps from his slightly parted lips, accompanied by sickening noises of babbling blood raising in his throat and strange cracking\screeching of sort from his broken ribcage as his open chest rose and fell in quick motions. Obviously, he couldn't speak even if he tried.

He wasn't dead yet, though. Several veins and threads still connected his heart and body, and everything from throat below just seemed to shower down in rain of red.

He wondered in haze were he had gone wrong. Ikkaku was going wild in rage, Hollowfied and massacring everything and everyone in his way inside the open hallways of Las-Noches. Lower ranked Arrancar and Hollow haven't stood a chance, and the real trouble begun when he turned against his fellow Shinigami comrades. And really, what chance Kira, Hisagi and Iba had against a raging Hollowfied Third-Seat that just-so-happen to secretly be in the same power-level as a captain by possessing Bankai? it was a miracle they even managed to avoid being blown to pieces and keep their heads attached on their necks for so long.

"... Yu..."

He thought that if anyone beside Zaraki-Taichou had a good chance of stopping Ikkaku, it would be him. Actually, the others too thought that Ayasegawa had the best chances of stopping Madarame's slaughter. After all, he was his best friend for years, he and Ikkaku knew (almost) everything about each other -or at least Ikkaku must definitely consider him as a special friend -he would recognize him, right?

At first they thought it worked; when Yumichika suddenly appeared in the bloody scene to try and stop him. Yes, the raging Third-seat did immediately abandoned his attempts of trying to sever poor Hisagi and launched himself to shove his friend forcefully back to the wall by gripping his throat so tight he couldn't breath, but he didn't kill him on the spot, unlike all the others he killed without a second thought.

It was Yumichika, so naturally they thought it worked; that a person -Ikkaku- would at least try restrain himself from hurting his best friend -Yumichika. They were sure it worked.

Until five-clawed fingers pressed and ripped its way into his best-friend's chest. And it hurt said friend in more way than one.

. . .

'Maybe it's my punishment?' The dying man wondered with violet eyes emptying out from signs of life and awareness, gazing from the clutched heart of his in the bald's hand to his own shaky hand, close to his chest and fingers soaked in blood. 'For trying to be something I'm not, for trying to take a place that's not mine...'

"Yu... mi..?"

'For trying... to stay with him... for-' He cough with ominous sounds coming from his chest and throat, blood never stops flowing. 'For... lying...' He raised the shaky bloodied fingers to Ikkaku's chest, trying to touch the man's heart without really realizing what he was doing. '...to think he trusted me so much and I-...' with a feeble 'huff' from attempting to breath his body lost its balance, leaning forward and falling on Ikkaku chest.

Into Ikkaku embrace.

"...Yumichika?... Oi! at least say somethin-Wha-..."

He felt warm hand tighten around him, supporting his wight. He could no longer move his limbs at all, even his shaking has begun ceasing. He need not to look up to see that Ikkaku was back to himself. He knew he was back, could feel it, smell the familiar the pure masculine scent of blood and sweat of a hard training day of his dear friend, a scent he knew all too well.

Bright violet irises finally glazed in blindness. The grip on the Ikkaku's Shihakusho tightened and Yumichika nuzzled into his neck. Somehow, he felt the black fabric on his back twist in the bald's grip.

"Y-yu-... ch..."

That's fine. It doesn't matter that he was dying. As long as Ikkaku is back to himself and alive, everything's fine. After all, Ikkaku is a tough, strong worrier. And stubborn too. He would be fine. At the very least, Yumichika was glad that he could help Ikkaku snap out of what was possessing him, even if it cost him his life. And as for his own death, Ikkaku never really needed him -Yumichika concluded. He'll get over it quickly.

Ikkaku will live happily and die the way he wanted to. He has a place he belongs to, has friends, has his sword. Yes, Ikkaku will be just fine. Other than that, nothing else mattered.

. . .

"Yu... Yumi...?"

. . .

'But... then...' The grip on the black cloth loosened 'why... did he just sounded so... worried... so... terrified?... almost as if-'

. . .

. . .

The arm fell back limply to Yumichika's side, unmoving.

. . .

. . .

"Yumichika!"

. . .

. . .

He never finished that last thought.

.

Note:... You know how I said there's only friendship? well, there are two hints to something in here. So, have you noticed it? What are these hints?