As soon as he was fished out, the tiny guy drooped onto the top of the bank and panted, dripping with ditch water. He did not let go of the stick. Yumichika tugged on it a few times, then gave up and looked across to the wiggling feet of the larger fellow still sticking out of the bank.

Meanwhile, Ikkaku had gotten the worst of the mud off of his face and was wading over to pry the guy out. He pulled once, twice - and fell backwards into the ditch as the other guy came out with a squelchy 'pop!'. They landed in a heap in the muddy water. After a short, impromptu fist fight that nobody won (but Ikkaku's nose lost) and a lot of spluttering, they crawled up to lean against the bank, worn out and smelling of fertilizer. Yumichika and the tiny guy watched the whole thing in silence.

Yumichika broke the silence. "So... I think we've had a bit of a misunderstanding. If you two are alright, we should just... go..."

The larger of the two strangers was having none of that. "Wait a minute. Are you seriously gonna try to kill us and then say it was a misunderstanding?" He started crawling up the bank, glaring from Ikkaku to Yumichika and back. He had a really, really ugly glare. "If that's the plan, Pal, think again. Look at poor Hanatarou! He can't handle that sort of excitement! We deserve an explanation. And maybe a bunch of cash."

Poor, tiny, sodden, drooping Hanatarou did indeed look pitiful. Yumichika kind of felt bad. That was, until the ugly guy made it all the way up the bank. Then Yumichika managed to yank the stick back from Hanatarou and held it up in a defensive manner. It was a completely unnecessary gesture, however, for at that moment the ugly guy spotted his motorcycle lying on the edge of the road.

"Bonnie!" With an anguished yell, he scuttled over on his hands and knees and carefully eased it upright. Bonnie was a beat up old Harley of some type, but this guy treated her like a lady, setting her up carefully and then trying to wipe the mud off with more mud. Judging by the varied collection of scuffs and dings, however, Bonnie and he did not always get along. This was perhaps not their first trip into the ditch. Yumichika and Hanatarou watched his ministrations in silence, Yumichika still holding the stick, Hanatarou looking somewhat abandoned.

Ikkaku finally clambered out of the ditch. His nose was bleeding again, and the permanent marker had smudged off a bit more in the water; he looked like a corpse paint enthusiast with hay-fever. He would need more lotion, for sure; he was bright red again under the mud. What with the continued escapades involving blood and general filthiness, his shirtless lifestyle was becoming more and more convenient. On the other hand, the pants would need to be laundered if he intended to spend more time in Yumichika's company.

Ikkaku addressed the ugly guy who was still fawning over his battered motorcycle, reverting to his bloody-nosed accent. "That was a pretty good punch down there. You want to fight, or call it even?"

"What? Oh. Was that me? Of course it was me! Pretty impressive, right? But how does that make us even?"

"I distract you into crashing your bike, you punch me in the face. Considering the crash was technically your fault and you called be bald, I'd say that's more than fair."

"There's no way that was my fault! I'm a fine, upstanding citizen! I pay my taxes! And what about Hanatarou? He ended up in the ditch, too! And you ARE bald!"

"It's shaved. And I guess he can punch Yumichika in the face. Fair?"

"Hey, you don't have a say in what happens to my face!" Yumichika brandished the stick indignantly.

Hanatarou stuttered quietly, "That's really not necessary. We're all fine, right Ganju?"

"No, Hanatarou! You have to punch him! A man has to protect his honor!"

"Exactly!" Ikkaku nodded vigorously in agreement, blood spattering everywhere. "We're not square until you hit him!" He continued as an afterthought, "It doesn't have to be the face, though."

Yumichika narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but stopped brandishing the stick in Hanatarou's direction. Hanatarou wearily got up. He plopped his helmet back on, for some reason, and cautiously approached Yumichika. Yumichika proffered the arm that was not still occupied holding the stick, as a target. He and the pink helmet eyed each other warily.

Hanatarou made a fist. Not a very good fist, but a fist. He carefully gauged the distance, the wind speed, the footing. He coughed lightly. He pulled back his arm. He punched!

And he missed! His meager momentum carried him forward in a lurch, and he headbutted Yumichika in the stomach. Yumichika said "urk" but was otherwise unaffected. In other words, Hanatarou used Headbutt on enemy Yumichika! It wasn't very effective...

Hanatarou did not move from the end-point of his headbutt, so Yumichika poked him in the shoulder. Ganju and Ikkaku stared on in baffled incredulity. The flow from Ikkaku's nose slowly subsided, bitter for being all but forgotten.

"Ow..." Hanatarou staggered back from the savage poke. He pulled off his helmet. He rubbed the back of his head and grinned sheepishly (and droopily) at Ganju. "Is that okay? Is my honor safe now?"

Ganju looked at the ground and exhaled gustily in defeat. "Yeah, I guess so." He shrugged at Ikkaku. "I'd fight you instead, but my sister'll throw me out of the house if I cause any more trouble this week. You know."

Ikkaku was still dealing with his incredulity at the punch. He could not get his left eyebrow to return to its resting position. "Um. Sure. So we're good?"

Ganju shrugged again. "I guess." He held out his hand to shake. Ikkaku took it. They shook. It was very manly indeed. They became the best of man-friends. Ganju graciously ignored the nose blood getting smeared on his hand.

Ikkaku gripped just a bit more tightly. "But I'm not bald. It's shaved." His smile was a bit too friendly. The blood all over his face did not help the image at all.

Ganju replied in kind. "Of course not, Cueball. You work hard for that hairless shine."

Yumichika and Hanatarou were again stuck staring wordlessly. The handshake continued, both contestants showing more and more teeth. When their noses were nearly touching, a great cracking noise from their joined hands broke the standoff. They jumped apart, wringing their hands nonchalantly. Hanatarou tentatively reached out his hand toward Yumichika to shake as well. Yumichika rapped it with the stick.

It became a silent, four-way standoff quickly enough after the friendly handshake. Their eyes flicked around the rhomboid they had fallen into, judging and appraising: The Good, the Bad, the Ugly, and... the Other Guy. Yumichika was not sure exactly what one was supposed to say to friends recently won through vehicular violence, and he assumed that the others were likewise stumped. Ikkaku and Ganju's faces said as much, or maybe Ganju always looked like a stoned gorilla. It was Hanatarou, of all people, who spoke up at last.

"So, that is, not to be rude, now that we're honorable and, um, friends and all. With manly handshakes. But why were you chasing us?"

Yumichika tried valiantly to stop turning red out of embarrassment, but he failed. Ikkaku was already as red as he could get in more ways than one, so he scuffed at the ground with his muddy, bloody, sandaled foot instead. Ikkaku answered:

"Thought you were kidnappers. Ganju, that is. Don't see that many pink helmets around, and the kid we're supposed to be watching has one."

"Seriously?" Ganju's face had gone from stoned gorilla to exasperated gorilla. "Hanatarou, you need to bulk up. This is the third time this week! I'm tired of being mistaken for a criminal!"

Hanatarou seemed to droop even more. "Yeah, sorry." He twiddled his pointer fingers together and looked appropriately remorseful for failing to be buff. Then he perked back up (relatively) in concern. "Wait, what about the kid? Why did you think he was me? Is he lost?"

"Not he; the Hellbeast!" Yumichika shivered in spite of himself. "She escaped when we were supposed to be watching her, back in Kansas early yesterday morning."

Ikkaku nodded along. "Stole our boss's Indian Chief and took off. I still don't know how she's riding that thing! She's only like three feet tall!"

"Ah... she... three feet..." Hanatarou drooped back down to sit on the grass, fading off into the background. It sort of looked like he was trying to evaluate his arm muscles through his shirt sleeves. Whatever the outcome, it didn't seem to please him. The drooping intensified.

Ganju rolled his eyes at his compatriot and returned his focus to the conversation. "You followed her all the way to California, then lost her and decided to hassle innocent taxpayers? How hard is it to keep track of one little girl?"

Ikkaku's forehead twitched in irritation. It could not have been comfortable, considering the burn covering his face. "She's not normal. A Hellbeast! She likes to drool on my head!"

Yumichika nodded emphatically, sunhat bobbing. "She's worse than our boss! Well, not the drooling part. If we don't get her back, he'll murder us! She's just the same!"

Ganju snorted. "Afraid to die? What sort of men ARE you?"

"Dying's one thing, but being MURDERED IN OUR BEDS is something else entirely." Ikkaku's eyes were very wide. He may have been putting entirely too much thought into this during the long drive the day before.

"Besides, weren't you the one screaming bloody murder when we were chasing you a few minutes ago?" Yumichika smirked. It provoked the return of the exasperated gorilla face on Ganju.

"I just happen to be the sort of man who would rather not die today, if you don't mind. Besides, I was watching out for him." He gestured vaguely back at Hanatarou, who was mournfully doing pathetic finger exercises by himself.

Yumichika and Ikkaku shot the little guy a dubious look. "That's fair," they said in unison.

Ganju nodded with great seriousness. Then he cocked his head. "So what's this girl of yours doing out here? Going to Disney Land? Escaping into the ocean? Hunting rich husbands in Silicon Valley?"

Ikkaku held up his finger, as if to explain, then stopped. His mouth opened. It closed. He squinted in confusion.

Yumichika deadpanned, "You don't remember, do you?"

"It was that... thing. Women. AHA!" Ikkaku grinned and smacked his hand with his fist. "The woman convention!" Then he shuddered. "Not husbands. Not yet. No..."

Yumichika was going to try to explain what "woman convention" was supposed to mean, but Ganju had adopted the look of a gorilla sparked by sudden recognition, perhaps from sighting a particularly delicious bit of thistle. "The lady convention? My sister's been talking about that! She calls it something else. Don't remember what. Says it's not worth her time."

Ikkaku and Yumichika adopted identical looks of gorillas who have just driven all the way from Kansas in a stupid wisteria jeep and would really like to go home now, and are shocked that they have just found exactly the man they need to talk to. Or something like that. It was a lot of nuance for two faces to convey.

"You know what it is?"

"Take us there!"

Ganju shrugged. "All I know is it's at some fancy pants guy's estate. My sister would know where."

"Take us THERE, then!"

"Ask her for us!"

Ganju was rocking the face of an uncertain gorilla. Certainly a gorilla, mind you; the adjective is for the gorilla's expression. "I don't know. She's not a fan of Mr. Fancy Pants, but she's not a fan of clowns like you two, either. No offense."

"At least TRY!"

"Let us follow you home!"

"Not in a creepy, stalker-ish way, that is." Yumichika added. He waved the stick in a reassuring manner, then gestured with it at Ikkaku. "And don't lump me in with that clown."

Unimpressed, suspicious gorilla arrived on Ganju to round out the gorilla-faced super squad. "That is not nearly as encouraging as you seem to think it is. But it's not like she couldn't just shoot you if you made her mad. Yeah, okay, whatever." He turned around to fish Hanatarou out of his gloomy, droopy funk. "Hey Bud, we gotta go! Get that helmet back on!"

Hanatarou was surprised out of trying in vain to do a pushup, and fell on his face. He hopped to his feet spritely enough, though, and plunked the pink, soggy helmet back on. He gave a salute and marched over to the bike.

"Why do you have the bike but he has the only helmet? I thought you were all rich in California." Ikkaku asked as he tried to squeegee the blood off his tender chest before he got back into the jeep.

"Safety!" Hanatarou piped up.

"It's my helmet. I'm not gonna let him break his head open when I give him a ride just because I can't afford another helmet. It's not decent."

"Cheap, chivalrous safety!" Hanatarou added helpfully. His expression was obscured by the helmet, but he held up his finger excitedly when he said the words 'safety' and 'cheap'. "If you're going home, can you drop me off, though? I'm gonna be late."

"Crap, you're right! Sorry!" Ganju hopped onto Bonnie and coaxed her to growling life. Hanatarou was already waiting for him on the back. "You guys hurry up! We're going!" Ganju tiptoed Bonnie painfully back onto the most road-like part of the dirt path and roared away.

Yumichika scrambled back into the jeep while Ikkaku finished wiping blood off on his pants. Yumichika did not think about the ditch water soaking into the seats. He just followed the motorcycle back toward civilization.