When he first showed up in Sasayakinokaze (North Rukon District 72: The Whispering Wind ), he'd been disoriented, to say the least. One minute he was engaged in combat, the next thing he knew, he was dead.
Or… he thought he was fighting… Ikkaku found that as soon as he set foot in the afterlife, he struggled to recall the exact circumstances of his death.
"That usually happens" the woman at the desk had said when he'd reached her. "One of the side effects of the Konso- memories associated with your life are usually left behind."
She'd smiled and handed him a small slip of paper. N72, it said in its ominous scrawl. Next thing he knew, he was standing in a dense forest with little recollection of his former life, barely any clothes, and no emotion left but a strong thirst for retribution, a taste for the blood of others, and the death of anyone who dared to challenge his strength.
With these few things, he'd wandered into the main population of Sasayakinokaze, welcomed by a kind old woman who ran an inn. An inn, he realized, that was catered to those who had recently arrived in the district. For one night only a bed to sleep in was provided, and then you had to make your own way, unless you paid.
Regardless of the terms, Ikkaku was happy for a place to get his shit together, even only temporarily.
The staff in the inn, which Ikkaku came to learn was called The Chime, filled him in on how everything worked.
"There are 360 districts in the Rukongai, North, South, East, and West 1-80. The first district is always the best– conditions, food, work…the 80th districts are nothing but bloodbaths as far as the eye can see. No one survives there for long. The center wall surrounds the seireitei, where the Gotei 13 live and—" Ikkaku had gleaned that much from the worker before fucking off and going to lay down to get his thoughts together.
Ikkaku figures his luck could have been worse… but damn his luck could have also been a hell of a lot better. He'd shown up with nothing but a short white yukata, no knowledge of anything to do with the afterlife, and very little knowledge of who he used to be. Even that knowledge was fading minute by minute. He'd come to learn that often the only knowledge of a person's previous life came in the form of close familial connections. Some were able to remember more details, but that was exceedingly rare. It just depended on the person.
Ikkaku had a gut feeling that the knowledge of his previous life was escaping him for good reason. It didn't matter who he used to be, anyway. The only thing that mattered now was staying alive long enough to quench the lust for battle that seemed to be simmering deep in his bones.
He shifts on the straw mattress and brings the katana he'd arrived with up for inspection. A razor-sharp blade, navy sheath, and a handle wrapped in red cloth. It seemed, by all accounts, a normal sword, and however he'd gotten it, he was thankful for it. It would certainly help in his new mission to kill anyone who had the nerve to challenge him.
Ikkaku briefly wonders what would happen if he died here.
The first fight Ikkaku gets into barely piques his interest. It's a quick fight, a weak man approaching him trying to steal the meager money that Ikkaku has scrounged up. Ikkaku had dealt a few swift blows to the man's stomach and head before finally breaking his neck. The man hadn't even gotten a scratch on him.
Ikkaku had taken everything of value from his 'opponent', if you could call him that, and had gone on his way, leaving the dead man in the alley. A few kan heavier, Ikkaku wanders to the market of Sasayakinokaze. He had discovered quite quickly that he needed food to survive in this world.
Hunger was something that was not supposed to happen in this place, the innkeeper had told him when he stumbled back to her doorstep one day. You must have reiryoku, how fascinating. We don't get many with that down in these districts. She'd been kind enough to give him a portion of rice and a few vegetables. He would have rathered meat, but he wasn't in a position to be picky, and he ate the food he was given with grumbled gratitude.
Ikkaku came to find that there weren't many people like him, especially in the lower Rukongai. The few that had this 'reiryoku' either became soul reapers or were killed by others simply for having it at all.
Ikkaku had a general disrespect for authority, so becoming a soul reaper was out of the question. He had no desire to live in the seireitei, surrounded by walls and rules. He liked it much better out here in the Rukongai– hungry but free. He could kill who he wanted, fuck who he wanted, and no one could say anything about it.
Unfortunately, the woods surrounding Sasayakinokaze were not suited to hunting, or he would just do that. Not many animals or other creatures lived there anymore, having been driven into other forests by the constant presence of souls. Ikkaku would have to venture deep within the trees to even find a squirrel, and he wasn't confident enough in his navigation to think that he could make his way back.
His stomach growled loudly and cursed under his breath, looking around the bustling market for a food stall.
He found one that was tucked away from everything else, selling mostly onigiri and a few pastries. It was clear that the stall was not frequently visited, though Ikkaku could not fathom why, as the food was decently priced and looked delicious. The old woman smiled sweetly at him as he passed over most of his kan, and he took his pack of food and set on his way.
He had no real plan if he was honest. Just keep moving. He figured he would wander around to other districts, searching for strong opponents to fight. Hopefully, they'd kill him. He wanders through the edge of the town and off to the south, looking to hopefully encounter some stronger individuals there.
He doesn't have to go too far before he's stopped by a group of men just outside of town. Ikkaku looks them over, curious. 'They look strong ' Ikkaku thinks, standing firm, 'hopefully they are'.
"What do you want?" Ikkaku asks, resting his katana on his shoulder, "Looking for a fight or something?"
One man steps forward, dressed in a grimy, tattered yukata that had seen better days. Ikkaku wasn't one to judge though, if he was honest, glancing down at his clothes. He really should wash them at some point, probably. The man before him was tall and broad, carrying a tekkan wrapped hastily with what looked like bandages. He glared at Ikkaku like he wanted to pound his head in, and Ikkaku raised an eyebrow at the man.
"Well?"
"You are Ikkaku, yes?"
Ikkaku gives him a look, "Yeah, what about it?"
The man draws his tekkan and the rest of his group draws their weapons as well. "We have come to kill you."
Ikkaku notes something about the man's face, familiar, though he cannot place it. "I see. Well, I don't really do, uh…" Ikkaku does a quick head count, making sure to get the short one in the back, "seven on one fights, I'll take you one at a time though. Man to man."
The man sneers, "Oh really? Well, unfortunately, we aren't here to fight for fun. We're here to finish this quickly." He raises his sword and rage takes over his face. " You will pay for the death of Harudo Tanaka!"
Ikkaku stares at him blankly. "Who?"
The man's face contorts, "Who?! What do you mean who?!"
Ikkaku scratches his head, and then it clicks. Dipshit, he thinks to himself, you've only killed one man since you've been here.
So far.
"Oh, that scraggly bastard who cornered me in the alley? That who you mean? Who are you to that guy, anyway? He went down like a sack of rocks!"
"I am Botan Tanaka, and he was my brother ."
Ikkaku purses his lips, now understanding why the man looked familiar. "Ah I see, come to avenge him then?"
"He was our friend, too!" The short one in the back shouts. "You killed him!"
Ikkaku sighs, "Well, it really wasn't my fault that he took on a fight he couldn't win. He was weak." He shrugs and drops his pack, unsheathing his sword and taking a fighting stance.
"While I prefer one on one, I suppose that won't happen here. It's no matter, I'll take all of you on and win." He grins, grey eyes piercing through the skull of the man before him. " Just try and give me a good fight, yeah? I don't want to put up with any more weaklings."
That seems to do it, as, after Ikkaku's last statement, he is rushed by all seven opponents. The symphony of agonizing cries and clattering of blades is music to Ikkaku's ears. Pain blooms from various points on his body and he feels ignited with renewed energy. He feels alive for the first time since his death.
The fight is not as quick as Ikkaku thought it would be, and he sustains more wounds than he would have predicted, but he still emerges victorious. The men who fight him are blinded with rage, which ultimately leads to them to their demise. Ikkaku sighs and approaches Botan, finding him reaching for his tekkan despite his arm barely being attached to his body.
"You've still got some fight left," Ikkaku notes, gazing down at the man curiously. "I wonder, how will you fight when your arm is barely functional? Does revenge mean that much to you?"
Botan glares up at Ikkaku, rage and hatred mixing into something quite formidable, if Ikkaku is honest. It doesn't change the fact that he's the one lying on the ground, though. "What's with the look?"
"You killed my brother, you bastard. Why are you not lying on the ground, then?" He sounds angrier at himself than at Ikkaku. Ikkaku rolls his eyes and takes a minute to clean off his blade.
"You just weren't strong enough."
The man growls, but it's weak and wet with blood. It is very clear his life is almost over. Ikakku crouches down to the man, matching his gaze easily.
"If you want to avenge someone, or seek revenge on their behalf, you need to be strong enough to cut down any object in your way." Ikkaku looks over his katana for a minute, contemplative, before sheathing it. "If I'm honest, this fight was quite boring for me. You should have waited until you were more skilled before you came after me, then maybe you could have avenged your brother with honor. Instead, you lost, so what honor have you and your friends brought him?"
Botan snarls, "The honor is in our death."
Ikkaku is taken aback at the statement.
"The honor is in seeking revenge for my brother, my only brother. Revenge sought for love is the greatest devotion." He coughs, and his mouth sprays blood. "I will die here, but I will die knowing I did what I could to avenge him. That is where the honor lies."
Ikkaku looks curiously at the man as he takes his last shuddering breath, his body stilling. He snorts a laugh and stands. "That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard."
After a while of searching their bodies, Ikkaku comes out with a fair amount of kan and a few other supplies, which he adds to his pack for later. As he gathers his items and goes to head down the path to the lower Rukongai, he glances back at the pile of bodies left behind him. He looks over Botan's corpse, still reaching for his discarded weapon, the last remnant of having fought for his brother's honor.
Ikkaku scoffs and turns away, continuing his journey.
"Such bullshit." He mutters to himself, and the only reply he gets is from the songbirds in the trees.
The Bloody Heron was the only sign of life this late at night. As it was a pleasure house, it made sense. They were always more active at night. Ikkaku had been traveling for months now, and finally the lights and sounds of anger and merriment had reached his ears. It was not a home, nothing really was out here in the Rukongai, but it was at least a place familiar, where he knew he could bounce off of if he desperately needed to. Just seeing it was enough to draw the exhaustion from his bones.
Ikkaku wandered up the steps and pushed open the heavy door of the gambling house, giving a quick two-fingered salute in greeting to the bouncer standing beside the door.
"How's it going Riku?"
The burly, scarred man shrugs, "Same old same old."
Ikkaku grunts in response and continues inside. He greets a few acquaintances of his and makes his way to where the owner, a broad, strong woman named Ayako counts her money behind the bar.
He approaches and her brown eyes shoot up at his presence. A grin breaks out on her face.
"Well well, if it isn't Ikkaku. Haven't seen you in a hot minute, my short-tempered friend. Tell me, how has the lower Rukongai treated you?"
Ikkaku scoffed and crossed his arms. "How do you think?"
She snorts and counts out a few more coins. "Well you're alive, so I suppose better than most. You find any good fights while you were out there?"
Ikkaku sighs and pulls up an empty chair. "Nah, just the usual, unfortunately."
She hums in understanding. "Such is the fate of those strong enough to fight, I suppose." A bottle of saké is retrieved from below the bar and a dish is poured for him.
"My condolences for your lack of a good fight."
Ikkaku scoffs— he doesn't need pity, he needs to spill some blood. Though, he supposes saké is a good second. He picks up the ceramic dish and downs all of it in one go.
"So, anything interesting happening?" Ikkaku asks, tossing a few kan on the counter to keep the drinks flowing. She shrugs and pours him another dish.
"Been pretty quiet, actually." Ayako shrugs, "I've been itching for a good fight myself, honestly. The Yakuza have all moved down into Kusajishi (North Rukon District 79: Grass Deer ), so there isn't a lot going on here anymore."
"Why not fight me?" Ikkaku asks, a smirk on his face, "I could give you a hell of a good time." He pats his katana and Ayako lets out a barking laugh.
"And lose what's left of my life? Nah, I ain't like you, Ikkaku. I like a good fight once in a while but it ain't my reason for living." She cracks her neck and leans back in her chair. "I'd lose to you easily enough. I might be stronger than most of those Yakuza bastards, but you'd wipe the floor with me."
She pours herself a dish of saké before refilling Ikkaku's, and they drink it together. Ayako sighs, a small smile on her face.
"Had you caught me a few centuries ago I'd have beaten you to a pulp, that much I know, but age catches up to you even here in the afterlife." She smiles a knowing smile at him. "Now though? Nah you wouldn't have fun at all, and neither would I. I'd like to not die in battle, if I can help it. Though I suppose there are worse ways to go."
Ikkaku says nothing, wholeheartedly disagreeing. There is nothing greater than the concept of dying in battle. Any other form of death is cowardly, weak. Live by the blade, and die by the blade. He keeps his thoughts to himself for the moment though, and tosses a few more kan down. She pours another dish for him, and Ikkaku drinks.
They say nothing else for a while, the only sounds between them being Ayako counting her money and Ikkaku sipping on his never-ending saké. Ikkaku had never had a friend in the 75 years he'd been here, but he figured if he had to choose someone to bestow that title to, he'd give it to Ayako.
Ayako was old, older than she let on, but she was strong. While she may have not had any reiryoku to speak of, her brute strength and skill with a blade made her a fierce opponent, this Ikkaku knew. As the older owner of a popular gambling and pleasure hall, she had to be. Even the Yakuza knew not to fuck with her, lest they be on the wrong end of her nodachi .
That didn't stop the younger, more inexperienced and impulsive members from coming into her hall and trying to cause trouble though. Always with their smug grins, their knives and other weapons, "What are you gonna do, old lady? Throw candy at us? "
They always quickly discover the meaning behind The Bloody Heron's name.
Ikkaku glances around at the floor. "Painted recently?"
Ayako snorts into her saké. "Had a couple of dipshits try to run out with some of my girls the other night. I relieved them of their heads. Was good timing too, the boards were looking quite worse for wear."
Ikkaku nodded approvingly, noting the fresher-looking color of the blood-soaked wood. It was a color worthy of a gambling hall in Chinomanto (North Rukon District 68: Blood Cloak ). Ikkaku downs another dish of saké, feeling the alcohol work its way through his blood and make his body simmer with a pleasant heat. He handed Ayako the dish and she took it, placing it gently in a bucket of dishwater nearby.
"Got a crawl space I can hole up in for a few nights?"
Ayako shrugged. "If you've got the coin. Be needing any services while you're here?"
Ikkaku dug through the coin purse he had, noting his lowering funds. Not only that, but he was bone tired from his travels, and he truly just wanted to rest somewhere for a while as he stocked up on money and supplies.
"Not really in the mood for a fuck, to be honest. How much for the room?"
Ayako contemplates for a minute. "How's this— you work security for the next few nights and I'll let you hole up here for a while. Riku is going to be running some errands for me and I need the extra hands."
Ikkaku shrugs, there are worse jobs. "Done."
Ayako nods and stands up, cracking her back as she does, "Well, if you need anything from Aisurukumo (North Rukon District 69: Loving Cloud ), then tell him now."
Ikkaku snorts and stands to follow her as she leads him to the back room where the staff of The Bloody Heron stay. "I'll ask him to bring me a good fight."
Ayako chuckles and says nothing else until they arrive at the last room. It's hardly anything special, but for Ikkaku's needs it works perfectly. A worn futon sits tucked in the corner, a small chair and table, and a container with water.
"Make yourself at home, I'll have Kiyoko stop by to say hi."
"I can't pay her." Ikkaku says, tossing his few belongings onto the small table. He props his katana gently against the wall.
"Fair, but you know she likes you. She'll come by to say hi whether you can pay or not. She'd be furious with both of us if I didn't tell her you were here." Ayako pokes absentmindedly at a loose hinge on the door. I'll have to fix that later, her face says.
"Alright then." Ikkaku says, tone flat.
Ayako says nothing else and leaves him to get settled. Ikkaku sets up the futon, flops down, and lets himself relax for the first time in many days. He can hear the wind blow gently outside the window, which is shoddily put into its frame. It functions, he supposes.
A few minutes later he hears clacking of wooden geta down the hall from his room. He hears a gentle, excited knock on the door and doesn't look up as he calls out a curt 'come in'.
He smells her before he sees her, though that's mostly because his eyes are closed. She smells gentle, like a lily, and he suppresses a chuckle. Leave it to a powerful woman like Ayako to have such a gentle person in her care. Though, he supposes, better for her to be here than other places.
Ayako, however brutish, takes care of the girls she employs. She lets them keep any tips they receive outside of their normal charge, pays them decently, and provides good food and amenities for them. They are protected and given the best care that can be afforded in a district like Chinomanto. All in all, Kiyoko could have it worse.
He hears the rickety chair creak and turns his head, opening his eyes as he does.
"Hi Ikkaku, it's been a while." Kiyoko greets, a kind smile on her face. Her voice is soft, like a breeze on a field of wheat.
Ikkaku doesn't trouble himself with beautiful things, but he can recognize a beautiful woman when he sees one, and Kiyoko is just that. The iromuji she's in is a soft yellow color, tied with a light blue obi . She has a pin in her long brown hair, but it's simple, wooden. Her face is bare of makeup, but freshly washed. She must be off duty, Ikkaku notes, as he realizes this is the most simple he's ever seen her dressed.
"Been busy," Ikkaku says simply, stretching out his arms. "I told Ayako I can't pay you, by the way. Not sure if she told you."
Kiyoko frowns a little, "I'm not here to service you Ikkaku."
Ikkaku closes his eyes and tucks his arms behind his head, "Well, then I'm not sure what you're here for."
"I came to say hi."
Ikkaku shrugs, "Well hi." he turns his head towards her and looks at her suspiciously. "You're being weird. Knock it off, I don't like it."
"I'm not being weird," Kiyoko blushes, though Ikkaku cannot fathom why, as she's still fully dressed. For now. "You're just being mean! I came to say hi to you because I wanted to see you after you've been away, idiot."
"Well, you said hi, so unless you've got something else to say, I'm tired." He states simply. She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest.
"Well, I was hoping that you'd tell me about your travels." She says, leaning back in the chair and glaring at the wall. "You know how Ayako feels about us going outside the Heron."
Ikkaku scratches the side of his face, paying no mind to the sour tone of her voice. "You know that's for your own protection. You have it better here than some people."
He can feel Kiyoko's eyes roll from the opposite side of the room. "I know. All the more reason for me to want to hear about other districts. Please tell me." She insists.
Ikkaku has always had a soft spot for her, if he's honest. It's not like he was in love with her, but if he was to settle down and marry anyone he figures Kiyoko isn't the worst choice ever.
Though, battle is the best wife anyone could ask for.
Ikkaku sighs, "Can I tell you tomorrow? I'm fuckin' beat right now."
Kiyoko huffs, "I'm working tomorrow, you should just tell me now."
Ikkaku groans, though he really isn't that annoyed. "Fine, brat."
Over the next hour or so, he tells Kiyoko where he's been over the last few months. The routine is familiar, one they've had for years. He tells Kiyoko stories and she listens aptly to all of them. He's had many from his 75 years of wandering, and over the years he has indulged her interest in all of them. He leaves out the gory bits as best he can, but overall he keeps the stories true to what they were.
He tells her of his recent fights with the gangs in Kuroyama (South Rukon District 80: Black Mountain ), how the leader was this nasty, scarred man who had no eyes or nose ('I swear Kiyoko, he looked like he'd been carved up by a beast, how he was even alive was astounding!' ). He told her of his encounters with powerful monsters, weak men, and most importantly, his recent encounter with a soul reaper.
"She was so weird, Kiyoko." He says, hands gesturing wildly in the air. "I had just gotten done with my fight with some Yakuza bastard, and this chick shows up from nowhere and offers to heal my wounds, the nerve of her!"
Kiyoko laughs at his wild gestures and his indignation at someone else's kindness. He looks at her, eyes wild as he remembers the encounter. "It's crazy isn't it?!"
She can't help but snort another laugh, hands coming up to hide her face. "Did you think maybe she took pity on you?" She says, knowing it will get a rise out of him. Ikkaku's face flushed with outrage.
"She'd better not have! I'll find the bitch so help me! What was her name, anyways, she told me… Is.. Isara? No… Isano? Gods I can't even remember, I'm so angry." he glowers at the ceiling, "Her and her stupid hair beads, I'll kill her for her actions!"
Kiyoko continues laughing as Ikkaku rages, not daring to bring up that he is the one who accepted her kindness to begin with, and they fall back into the way things always are. Ikkaku angry about something, and Kiyoko laughing because he's just so dumb sometimes.
"I don't think she took pity on you, Ikkaku," Kiyoko says after a while, her smile never leaving her face even though she's finished laughing. "I think she probably just wanted to help someone who was injured."
Ikkaku grumbles but doesn't say anything else about it. Kiyoko looks down at the man and her chest blossoms with something warm. It is a familiar feeling, though it is one that only comes up when Ikkaku is involved.
'Don't do it, Kiyoko' Ayako had warned, 'Don't fall in love with him, you'll only hurt yourself, in the end. '
Ayako had been right, it hurts. The warmth that blooms in her chest turns to pain as she looks at him, this man she knows deep down she could never have, but she doesn't care. How could I not love him? She questions no one. No one answers.
Even if she can just get Ikkaku to stay, that would be enough.
Ikkaku looks to her and there's something in his eyes that she knows the meaning of. Ikkaku told her already, he can't pay, so he won't move first. He rarely does, when it comes to the women he beds, she found out. He lets them move first, set the tone, before he makes his move and takes as much as he is allowed.
In Kiyoko's case, she offers everything.
Ikkaku doesn't kiss when they have sex, and that's okay. Kiyoko learned quickly that Ikkaku is not a kisser, and though she desperately wants to feel his lips on her own, she understands. She made her peace with it a long time ago. As long as she gets to have him in some way, she will take everything she can and give herself back.
Ikkaku does not treat her softly, which is okay with her. That rough, burning personality is part of who Ikkaku is; a fire stoked with rage and lust for more than just a warm body. Kiyoko takes it all, for she loves this man, why wouldn't she want every part of him? Ikkaku is not violent with her, though. She can see the way he holds himself back from truly harming her, and for these small kindnesses, she is thankful.
As Ikkaku slides into her body she feels her chest nearly burst with the warmth from earlier, the pain seeping away and making room for that feeling of completion that she so desperately craves. Ikkaku's face in her neck is a presence she longs for even outside of bed, though Ayako has told her such desires are a fool's dream.
But when it comes to Ikkaku, Kiyoko is nothing but a fool.
So she will try, she resolves, as she feels Ikkaku start to reach his end. She will try everything in her power to sway him to stay here. Even if it is not with her, so long as he is here, she is content. Ikkaku reaches between their bodies to bring her to a close as well, and the pleasure she receives at the hand of the man she loves is nothing short of euphoric.
As the curtain draws and Ikkaku pulls away, Kiyoko is left with a burning resolve solidifying in her chest to stave away the pain.
The four days Ikkaku works as Ayako's security are woefully uneventful. He spends much of his time with his arms crossed across his chest, glaring out into the crowd as they laugh and cheer for each other. His gray eyes scan over the men, keeping an eye on the few of Ayako's girls working that night. His eyes catch on Kiyoko, who is dressed in a very bright colored tsukesage . She's quite difficult to miss if he's honest, in the vibrant teals and pinks that make up her clothing.
He watches as she rests a hand on the arm of the man she's wooing and the man instantly is smitten, Ikakku can see it. Kiyoko is very good at her job, Ikkaku knows this firsthand. She's one of Ayako's most popular girls for a reason. He looks somewhere else, knowing that Kiyoko can take care of herself. She doesn't need him worrying over her like a mother hen.
Ikkaku hears a commotion to the side of him and he looks over. Four men, clearly well past drunk, stand menacingly around one of the new girls (Ikkaku never bothered to learn her name). She's clearly uncomfortable, and Ikkaku feels anger simmer in his blood.
"Here we go again." He sighs and stalks over, a hand on his katana.
"What's going on over here?" He asks, purposefully letting his reiatsu flare. The four men look at him, faces contorted in perverse expressions that disgust even Ikkaku.
"Oh hello ," the largest one, clearly the leader says, voice thick and dripping with something slimy that Ikkaku does not like. "Would you care to join us? Sweet little Runa here was about to offer us some services ."
The man grins, teeth rotting and black. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind another, would you Runa?"
Runa was a small woman who had recently arrived in the Rukongai. She was sweet, too sweet and innocent to the workings of the disgusting world in which she was thrust. Ayako had taken her in and had actually put her in a position in the kitchens, so Ikkaku wasn't entirely sure what she was doing out here. The poor woman was clearly out of her element. She was trembling with fear, looking between all the men before her. "I-I…"
"C'mon little lady, you said you'd give us a good time~" one of the others starts getting closer, "You should know, the four of us are a package deal, you offer yourself to one, you offer yourself to us all~"
Ikkaku, sick of their antics, steps forward and claps a hand on the man's shoulder, "Alright buddy, time for you and your friends to fuck off."
The four men turn to him, "Oh really?" the leader grins. In a flash, two of the others have grabbed Runa and she cries out, drawing attention to the situation. Ikkaku notices the crowd go quiet, waiting to see what happens next. They all draw knives of various sizes, and Ikkaku sighs, popping his katana out of its sheath.
"I guess this is how we're gonna do this." He sighs, disinterested. He locks eyes with Runa's frightened blue ones. "Runa, close your eyes, you don't want to see this."
The fight is quick and barely interesting to Ikkaku, with three of them going down in just a few quick strokes of his sword. The last one drops his knife, legs and hands trembling and eyes wide with fear. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kiyoko move forward and snatch Runa from the mess. He can hear her soft voice offering comfort, and he feels a growl work its way up his throat.
"Gods I can't stand men who prey on the weak like that." Ikkaku spits venomously.
"P-p-please, sir, d-don't kill me…" the man begs, sinking to his knees in front of Ikkaku, "I-I'll do anything…"
Ikkaku holds the blade of his sword at the man's throat, eyebrow cocked in interest. "Anything, ey?"
The man nods, his eyes full of fright. Ikkaku grins, nodding down to his own waist, "Then suck it, creep."
"W-what?" The man stutters after a moment, looking for the joke.
"You heard me." Ikkaku's voice is steady as he glares at him from the bottom of his eyes. There is no joke.
"I-I…" The man hesitates, staring at the front of Ikkaku's yukata with horror, "A-anything but t-that…"
"Oh?" Ikkaku cocks his head, mock confused. "You said anything though, didn't you?"
The man's eyes look to him, pleading and Ikkaku reaches down to snatch him by the front of his yukata. He hauls him up so that the man is dangling, and Ikkaku glares daggers into the man's shit-brown eyes.
"You feel that? That fear you have right now? That's how you made that girl feel," He points his sword in Runa's direction, then holds the tip at the man's throat. "I can't stand men like you. I hope it was worth it, in the end."
He drops the man to the floor, and the last words the pitiful creature says are something along the lines of please, no or I didn't mean it . Ikkaku couldn't care less as he presses the blade to the man's neck and slices clean through, sending blood spattering on himself and the floor. The man splutters for a second, choking on his own blood under Ikkaku's disinterested gaze. When he finally falls still, Ikkaku throws his head back in an annoyed sigh.
"Gods, that was so boring ."
He flicks the blood off his katana and sheathes it, scratching his neck. He feels the presence of someone behind him and he turns to see Runa, still trembling, looking up at him with her eyes shimmering with tears.
"T-thank you Ikkaku…" Her voice wobbles.
"Don't mention it." Ikkaku shrugs, then fixes her with a firm look. "I know things for you are confusing right now. You're scared, and you're not used to this life. This place is not a place where you can let your guard down. Be more careful."
She wilts, and Ikkaku almost feels bad. Almost. What he said was the truth, after all.
"Y-yes…" She agrees, fingers threading together anxiously.
"You need to be strong to survive in a place like this," Ikkaku says, leaning against the wall where the dead man's body was resting. "You'll get there though. Ayako will help you."
Runa doesn't say anything else, and that's fine with Ikkaku. He brushes past her without saying a word, and takes time to get one of the other guards to help him haul the bodies out to the back. Once there, they unceremoniously dump them amongst the compost and leave them to rot. They come back inside to see Riku, fresh from his travels, and Ayako, fresh from a business meeting, being informed of the situation by Kiyoko.
Ayako turns to meet Ikkaku's eyes. "Thanks for the paint job."
Ikkaku shrugs, "Bastards couldn't take no for an answer."
Ayako snorts and directs them all to the bar. Kiyoko passes by Ikkaku and brushes a hand on his arm, which he ignores. She looks at him sadly for a moment before going back to Runa and leading her upstairs to calm her down.
Ikkaku notices blood on Ayako's nodachi and nods at it. "You get some action tonight then too?"
She shrugs, "Had some fuckers come up on me as I was walking back, nothing terribly exciting."
Ikkaku nods and Riku pulls a small bundle from his travel pack. "Almost forgot this, boss."
She takes the package gingerly and places it behind the bar. "Thanks Riku, for going to all that trouble. Any news of Yakuza movements?"
"Nah, not really. More of the same, all moving down into Kusajishi. No one knows why, though they don't seem to have a solid base of operations yet. I'll keep an eye on it."
Ayako nods and brings out a few sake dishes, filling them all and offering the liquor to each of them. "Drinks on the house tonight for both of you. I've got to check on Runa. Feel free to use the baths too."
She wrinkles her nose as she says it, and Ikkaku makes sure to hide his laugh from her, lest she hit him. As she stalks away, Riku downs his drink and turns to Ikkaku. "I have some news for you, too."
Ikkaku raises an eyebrow at him. "Oh? What of? Someone half-decent at fighting show up in Aisurukumo?"
"Actually, yes."
The answer shocks Ikkaku, and he squints, seeking the catch. Riku pours another dish of sake and drinks it in one shot.
"The Red Siren of Rukon has made it back to the northern Rukongai." Riku says simply as if that explained anything. Ikkaku stares at him, brow furrowed.
"The what?"
Riku looks at him, a little shocked. "You've not heard of them? I thought you must have, they're notoriously strong." He leans back against the bar and fixes Ikkaku with a knowing look. "It's even said that they've never lost a battle."
Ikkaku's interest is peaked, and he grins his wide, toothy grin. "Well then, I suppose I shall have to see for myself. Tell me more about this Red Siren ."
Riku does so, telling tale after tale of the mysterious person's strength. Ikkaku listens as Riku tells him that the Red Siren had once exterminated an entire district because someone looked at them wrong, about how even the trees part in reverence to their power. The katana they wield, according to the stories, contains the power of thousands of souls slain by its blade. Claims that they use their powers of seduction to lure in the most powerful foes, only to slit their throats after the deed is done.
Most importantly, to Ikkaku, many of the stories revolve around this person never losing a battle.
He grins after Riku's tales are told. "Well then, I suppose I should give it a shot myself. I'm shocked I have not heard of them before, for how long I've been here."
Riku shrugs, "From what I know, they've spent the last 75 or so years traveling all over the Rukongai. Rumor has it that they've traveled to every district and killed at least one hundred people in each one."
"So many rumors," Ikkaku drinks another dish of sake. "I'll put them all to rest, along with this Red Siren motherfucker. Can't wait to knock them down a peg."
Riku chuckles, scratching his neck. "You never change, Ikkaku."
"Why should I?"
Riku shakes his head, "No reason for you to, I just think it's funny is all. I heard they're headed to Utsukushitori (North Rukon District 70: Beautiful Bird ). You'd best start soon, they move quickly."
Ikkaku hums in acknowledgment. "I suppose I'll head out then."
Riku nods and holds his full sake dish up to Ikkaku, "One last drink, in that case, should you not make it out alive."
Ikkaku smirks but says nothing more, downing the sake with him. Ikkaku does not care that this could be his final night here. He knows that they'll go on fine without him.
Ikkaku stands and gives Riku a short goodbye, not one for sentiment. He makes his way back to the room where he's been staying and gathers up his few belongings, intending to leave immediately. He finishes wrapping up his pack of medicine when a presence at his door appears. He turns around to see Kiyoko standing there, face drawn into a frown, hands clenched into fists at her side.
"So that's it?" She says, tone bitter and sad. Ikkaku looks at her quizzically.
"Is what it?"
"You're just going to leave?"
Ikkaku resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Oh, that. Yes, that's it. This person apparently has never been beaten, which means they're strong. That means I need to fight them."
"You don't need to, Ikkaku," Kiyoko says, stepping into the room. "You can stay. Ayako would have you, you know." Her voice pleads with him, and he meets it with hardened walls of callous indifference, laughing at the absurdity of her statement.
"Stay and do what exactly, Kiyoko? Work security for the rest of my pitiful existence? No thanks. It's fine in the short term, but I don't stay in one place for very long."
"Yeah, I know," Kiyoko seethes. Ikkaku glares at her from the sides of his eyes.
"What the fuck is your problem? You knew this was coming."
"I didn't think you'd leave so soon though, I thought you'd stay." She says, and Ikkaku notices that her eyes shine with a few tears. "I thought maybe…"
"Maybe what, Kiyoko?" Ikkaku spits at her, "Maybe you could spread your legs so nicely and it would make me stay, huh? Maybe sweet talk me into giving up the only thing that makes existence worthwhile?" He sees the hurt in her eyes and he keeps going anyway, intent on adding insult to injury.
"Don't think so highly of yourself, there's not a damn thing in this world you could do to tie me down. I thought you knew me well enough to know that by now."
He does not spare her another glance, turning around to continue getting his pack together.
"You are cruel, Ikkaku," Kiyoko says, voice laced with sorrow and rage. "I cannot believe I love you."
"Yeah, I can't either. Now if you're done, get out. I need to get going."
Kiyoko says nothing else, but Ikkaku can feel her ire. A small sound comes from behind him, like something being placed, and then he hears the sound of her geta clicking on the bloody floors, making their way away from him. He sighs, a burden removed from his shoulders. He hopes that she can move on quickly once he's dead.
He turns to leave and spots a small pouch on the chair next to where Kiyoko had been standing. He picks it up and looks inside, noting the significant amount of kan.
Stupid girl. Ikkaku thinks, and he slips the pouch inside his pack and makes his way out to the front of the hall.
People have started to trickle out, with only a few patrons remaining. Ayako sits behind the bar, as usual. Riku is beside the door frame, ushering out the last of the patrons so the hall can close for the evening. There is no sign of Kiyoko.
Ikkaku wanders up to Ayako and she looks at him, her weathered face drawn into a neutral expression.
"You really know how to hit someone where it hurts, don't you Madarame."
Ikkaku purses his lips together. "She'll get over it."
"No, I don't think she will."
It's quiet for another moment before another pack is handed to Ikkaku. He looks at Ayako, met with a hard look of disapproval. The three dots at each corner of her eyes catch his gaze, just for a moment, before he takes the package from her.
"For your journey. Maybe getting your ass beat by this Red Siren will knock some compassion into you."
Ikkaku shrugs and tucks the food away. "Probably not."
The older woman snorts, going back to what she was doing. "Take care, Ikkaku. You know where we are."
Ikakku nods, "Yeah."
Without much else to say, he nods to Riku in farewell and sets off into the night, determined to finally meet his end.
Since arriving in the afterlife, Ikkaku has never really cared what someone looked like. In terms of fighting, he'd fight anyone, man, woman, or anything in between. He just needed to fight, and as long as that person gave him a good one, it didn't matter who they were. In terms of a quick lay, he generally preferred women, but he'd fucked others too, since arriving. He didn't care so much for what anyone looked like or what bits they had— as long as it was him who did the fucking, he didn't care.
Outside of Kiyoko, he didn't care too much for the pretty ones either, they generally wanted money from him that he didn't have (though he didn't shame them for it, they needed money just as much as he did). Plus, everyone's face is the same in the dark, so it's not like it matters.
In the same breath, while he'd been mostly concerned with survival and the glorious feel of blood on his hands, he wasn't totally inept— he could recognize true beauty when it was in front of him, and the man before him was truly beautiful.
Almost inspiringly beautiful. Almost.
Long inky black hair cascaded down the back of the man before him, framing his sharp face and his violet eyes perfectly. The man was shorter than him, but was clearly powerful, standing firm and strong in front of Ikkaku like nothing could take him down despite his thin, delicate frame.
To be fair, he had just felled 4 brutish men with one single swing of his katana, so the look of 'nothing can kill me' was well deserved, Ikkaku figured.
Blood soaks the ends of the pale orange yukata the man is wearing, branching up towards his hips as the fabric soaks it in. There were a few droplets spattered on the man's chin, and the look in his eyes was vicious, like there was nothing better in the world than the feeling of taking a life.
Finally, Ikkaku thinks, someone who fucking gets it.
The man's violet eyes lock onto Ikkaku and he instantly feels threatened. The surge of reiatsu he feels nearly knocks him down, but he holds his ground, determined.
What is this feeling? Ikkaku wonders, this reiatsu… it's so… ravenous.
"Are you next then?" The man's voice is sharp, amused. He looks Ikkaku up and down like a predator surveying his next kill.
"That I am." Ikkaku replies, "Fair warning, as pretty as you are, I don't plan on holding back" A sinister, yet joyful grin crosses the man's face.
"I'd be insulted if you did." He says, flicking his wrist to remove the blood from his katana. He gracefully steps over the bodies of the four men he'd just killed, geta sinking just slightly in the blood-soaked earth. "But, introductions are in order, I believe, no?"
Ikkaku scoffs, "What's the point of telling your name to the person you're about to kill?"
The man tsks in disappointment and it makes Ikkaku's blood boil with the need to fight fight fight.
"Not very good manners then. You should always give your enemy the courtesy of knowing the name of the person who killed them." He looks at Ikkaku expectantly, a dangerous glint in his eye. Ikkaku scoffs.
"What, are you planning on losing?" The man laughs.
"No, I'll cut you down easily enough, just thought I'd learn the name of the man who I'm about to cross blades with." Ikkaku rolls his eyes and says nothing else, but raises his katana to the ready.
The man sighs and flicks his hair behind his shoulder, nose in the air. "Well then, it can't be helped. You brutes of the Rukongai are all the same, no class, no manners," he looks back at Ikkaku with a look that screams danger. Ikkaku suppresses a shiver of excitement— never has he seen his own bloodlust reflected so perfectly in someone else.
"Well even if you have no manners, I do. Allow me to introduce myself."
The man raises his katana to his face, letting the beautiful blade glint in the sunlight, and he smiles wickedly.
"I am Yumichika Ayasegawa, the Red Siren of Rukon." He points the sword at Ikkaku. "The rule of this battle is simple— you win, you get to fuck me. If I win, I will kill you."
All of Ikkaku's muscles twitch in anticipation– he needs to slice flesh now. "Shut your mouth and let's start swinging blades. Gods you pretty things talk so much…"
Yumichika pauses, seemingly curious, but laughs airily at Ikkaku's reaction all the same, "Very well then, my mysterious friend. Less talk, more blade."
In an instant, Ikkaku has lost sight of him, and in the next moment, Yumichika has run his blade down his left arm. Ikkaku manages to dodge the worst of it and counterattack, but it's not fast enough to hit Yumichika. Blood runs from the wound, shallow enough to not affect his performance, but deep enough to alarm him. This would not be an easy battle, and the thought made his blood run hot with excitement.
Yumichika laughs and points the bloody sword at Ikkaku again "I want to warn you though, friend, in the 75 years that I have roamed the Rukongai, I have never lost a battle."
Ikkaku smirks and lunges at Yumichika, bringing his sword up from down low to try and cut his stomach. Yumichika dodges with an electric grin on his face, and brings his katana down at Ikkaku, aiming for the neck. Ikkaku blocks and lets out a pained laugh when Yumichika knees him in the stomach. He pushes the other man away and throws his head back in glee.
"Well then, Yumichika! I suppose this is your lucky day!" He wipes blood off his mouth, "Because I, Ikkaku Madarame, have also never lost a battle in all the years I've been here!"
Yumichika smiles, friendly, and threatening all at the same time. "I see, well that streak breaks for one of us today, then doesn't it?"
Ikkaku laughs a true laugh, a laugh of joy. He is having fun.
From the elation on Yumichika's face, he can tell that he is having fun too.
They lunge at each other and sparks fly from their blades.
Ikkaku has experienced a lot of new things since he's been in the Rukongai.
He's watched people wither away from hunger before his very eyes, he's watched people turn swords into magnificent weapons, and he's watched people perform incredible magic tricks (something he learned later was called kidō and not 'magic'. It's all the same to him). He's watched people pop into existence seemingly from nothing, and he's experienced the greatest tasting onigiri he'd ever had in his life or his death.
He has experienced pleasure, pain, rage, and now, elation.
This experience, of crossing blades with an enemy who was also fighting for the sake of fighting, who was fighting to kill him and bathe in his blood, swinging his sword with the true intent to kill… it was the greatest feeling in the world. Finally, he'd found a person worthy of battle, and Ikkaku sent a prayer to whatever God was listening that this battle could last forever.
The following, however, was one he never wished to experience again.
Yumichika stood on Ikkaku's left wrist, Ikkaku's right arm pinned under his own body, katana thrown somewhere in the frenzy. The bloody tip of Yumichika's sword was pressed menacingly against his throat— a twitch of his wrist and he could slit Ikkaku's neck apart.
Ikkaku had taken a beating in the battle, cuts both shallow and deep crossing over his whole body— Yumichika had been a truly formidable opponent. A combination of nimble movements and powerful swings led to him getting the better of Ikkaku, who was not used to fighting people who used such techniques. The techniques he was used to were meatheads running at him head-on and trying to beat him into submission with brute force.
Not that Ikkaku hadn't gotten a few good swings in– Yumichika was bleeding too. Ikkaku had caught him in the thigh, most notably, where there was now a thick red stream flowing over the pale skin of the other man's leg. He'd managed to catch him in a few other places, but overall Yumichika had done the most damage.
Ikkaku let himself relax against the bloody ground, content to die this way, at the hands of the enemy who defeated him. His gray eyes locked with Yumichika's violet ones, a final challenge. Blood continues to flow from a wound Yumichika inflicted above his eye, and he closes one to avoid the sting.
"Well then, kill me if you're gonna do it." Ikkaku spits, blood trickling from his mouth. "I will say, that was the most fun I've had in almost 75 years. You're strong, stronger than I thought you would be."
Yumichika smiled a different smile, one that Ikkaku did not have the care to try and interpret. "I also had a very good time, Ikkaku Madarame. You even cut me," thin fingers go to the wound on his thigh, running through the blood and bringing them, dripping, back up to his face.
Ikkaku watches Yumichika contemplate his own blood for a moment, before licking some of it off his fingers. Ikkaku stares openly, not even pretending that he's not turned on by that image, of a deft tongue wrapping around thin fingers to gather his own blood. Yumichika smirks, lips and sharp teeth stained red.
"It's been a while since I've bled like this. I must say, what you did to my clothes was uncalled for, but the red and orange do go beautifully together, don't you think?"
Ikkaku wasn't quite sure what was happening, but he found he couldn't look away from Yumichika even if he wanted to. The tone of his voice triggered some kind of primal fear in Ikkaku that he had not felt in a long time. He could not tell if he enjoyed the feeling or not, and that set him on edge more than anything else.
Yumichika adjusted the blade so that the very tip sat below Ikkaku's chin.
"I have a proposition, Ikkaku."
Ikkaku hardens his stare, but does not answer.
"Let's be friends."
Ikkaku blinks, taken aback. "I'm fuckin' sorry?"
Yumichika shrugs, "What is there to be sorry about? I think it's a good idea," he tilts his head at him and some of his long hair falls to the front. "For years, I have been looking for someone who gives me even a fraction of the thrill this battle has given me, and here you are… I would hate to kill you. If I kill you, we can't have fun again."
Yumichika steps off of Ikkaku's wrist, but Ikkaku is too drained of energy to do anything other than continue to lay there and take in Yumichika's words.
"If I am not mistaken, you and I are the same in this regard."
It's quiet for a moment, nothing but the whisper of the breeze in the leaves, the occasional bird or tree frog calling for its mate.
"I suppose we are." Ikkaku finally states. They stare at each other for a while before Yumichika starts walking away. Ikkaku watches him go, brow furrowed in confusion.
"I thought you were going to kill me."
Yumichika stops at Ikkaku's katana and bends down to pick it up. "Get over yourself, didn't you hear what I just said?"
He walks back over and drops Ikkaku's katana at his side. Ikkaku just looks up at Yumichika.
"Did you not hear me?" Yumichika asks again, annoyed, "I said we're friends now. We can't battle again if I kill you. Now get up."
Ikkaku just stares, anger starting to churn in him. Why won't Yumichika just kill him?! "What if I don't want to be your friend?"
Yumichika shrugs. "Then that's your prerogative, I'll kill you though, if that's the case, and I'd really rather not."
Yumichika takes a cloth from inside his yukata and starts cleaning the blood off of his blade. "Killing someone with such a thirst for battle and blood… to kill someone like that wouldn't be very beautiful, don't you think?"
Ikkaku doesn't give a shit if something is beautiful or ugly or anything of the sort, but he thinks through his options. Die, which is what he was expecting since Yumichika won, or survive and be friends with the man who beat him. He finds both to be deplorable, but the point of battle is to die. The rage boils over— he's a warrior, and he won't take his pride being discarded like a dead animal!
"Just kill me! You won, I don't understand why you won't take your victory. The point of battle is to die, so finish the job." Ikkaku spits venomously, glaring at Yumichika with everything he can muster.
Yumichika looks at him with disappointment and slight disgust.
"Stop begging for death, it makes you ugly, and I do not like ugly things."
Yumichika finishes cleaning his blade and gently slips it back into its sheath, violet eyes piercing through Ikkaku's in such a way that made the warrior feel naked, insides bared to this utter stranger.
"You are skilled in battle, but you do not know what it means to be a warrior." Yumichika's voice is flat, almost disinterested. In an instant, Ikkaku's blood is hot again, anger overtaking him.
"The fuck did you just say?" Ikkaku shouts, grabbing his sword and pointing it at Yumichika. Yumichika looks at it with one eyebrow arched— he and Ikkaku both know that Ikkaku is too battle-wearily to fight right now. It is evident by the way his arm shakes, the blade in his hand unsteady at best. "I am a warrior, my pride is the most important thing to me. We fought, you won, so kill me!"
"What part of being a warrior involves begging for death?"
The simple question makes Ikkaku shut his mouth, though his glare does not waver. Yumichika is standing over him now, looking down at him. The blood drips down his leg and runs over his geta, pooling on the ground. Ikkaku scowls at him and Yumichika meets the gaze steadily.
"What part of being a warrior is giving up just because you lost? If you're lucky enough to not die in a battle with an opponent who is trying to kill you, would you not use every moment to better your skills so that the next time you meet, you can cut them down in one stroke?"
Ikkaku stares at Yumichika, pouring all the anger he has left into his eyes, though the arm holding the katana finally falls to his side. Yumichika's hair starts flowing in the wind again, catching the light of the sunset in the background.
"I have finally found an opponent worth fighting again. You say you have never lost a battle, and this I now believe." Yumichika steps away from Ikkaku, shaking his head in disappointment. "If you were to beg for death from an opponent lesser than me, they would kill you without question. I, however, see the beauty in your fight, in your desire for battle, and how I long to surround myself with only beautiful things. They are so rare in this ugly, ugly world."
Yumichika fixes him with a challenging gaze. "Should you wish to better yourself, and fight me again, I propose we become friends."
Ikkaku scoffs. "Friends who what? Kill each other in the end?"
Yumichika smiles again, a wicked, wild smile. "If we're lucky."
Ikkaku purses his lips and mulls over Yumichika's words. He watches Yumichika as he tilts his head back and stares at the sky, observing how the oranges and yellows blend so perfectly with the purples. They thread together, like a wondrous, intricate tapestry, cloaking the world in glorious light and patterns. It's okay looking, Ikkaku thinks.
"So what do you say, Ikkaku Madarame?" Yumichika meets Ikkaku's gaze. "Shall we be friends?"
The silence that falls between the two strangers is disturbed only by the gentle roll of thunder in the distance, warning of rain and storms to come. The birds and frogs continue to cry out for their mates, while the crickets begin to creep forward as the night approaches, creating a beautiful catalog of sounds that enshroud the two bloody figures.
The bodies of the men Yumichika killed earlier rest in a heap, but otherwise do not disturb the landscape, simply another background detail in the moment. Yumichika continues to look expectantly at Ikkaku, waiting for an answer.
Ikkaku heaves a sigh, lays back on the blood-soaked earth, and glares at the clouds.
and so fell the sword of fate