Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Demon of the Rukon District ❯ Retribution ( Chapter 3 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: OmniaVanitus 
Anime/Manga: Bleach Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Hentai / Mystery | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.11.2013 | Updated On: 02.11.2013 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.7K | Visits: 116 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Bleach Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Hentai / Mystery | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.11.2013 | Updated On: 02.11.2013 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.7K | Visits: 116 | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story and the original characters.
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A half empty bottle of sake lay discarded next to him as he reclined lazily on the rooftop with his hand tucked into his shihakusho.
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding while I’ve had to deal with those new recruits. I swear, you’re as bad as the captain.”
Ikkaku cracked an eye at the other man, watching as Yumichika carded a practiced hand through his dark hair before placing it on his hip. The picture of a nagging wife. “How are the newbie’s anyway?”
“As pitiful and inept as usual,” the fifth seat said, taking in the empty sake bottles littering the gold terracotta shingles.
“You said that about the last group.”
“Was I wrong?” A noncommittal grunt answered him and he sighed exasperatedly. “Well, are you going to stay up here all day or are you going to come help me train those bumbling morons?”
“Yeah, yeah I’m up,” Ikkaku muttered, stretching out languidly before he rolled to his feet.
They began making their way back to their division and almost reached the gates when they suddenly spied the sickly white haired captain walking alongside a lean brunette woman. But as they passed, a niggling feeling sprouted in the back of Ikkaku’s mind and it was another moment before comprehension finally flickered in his black eyes.
“That woman…”
Rage grew and swelled with his recognition and before he could even stop himself he was already flash stepping towards her.
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The heavy reiatsu bore down on them as they traveled through the forest and Ikkaku’s heart was already pounding at the thought of the impending fight. His companion, however, was less than enthusiastic.
Bits of leaves and dirt clung to his hair stubbornly from when he had tripped and fallen over a tree root and he couldn’t stop the frustrated sigh that escaped him as he pulled out a stray twig. Yumichika’s face was scrunched up in disgust, not only at his own disheveled appearance, but at the stench of decay for which he willed himself to stop breathing. He trudged on nonetheless, dutifully following the bald man deeper into the woods, but when they made brief eye contact he was certain his glare promised pain. One way or another, Ikkaku was going to make this up to him.
They found her standing atop a fallen tree with her back to them, her curved blades clutched in each hand. She made no move to attack them, but they knew better than to drop their guard. It was only when Ikkaku took a tentative step forward that she even acknowledged their presence at all and only with a half turn in their direction. The threat was clear though and Yumichika swallowed against the wave of unease that swept through him.
“I’ve come to fight you, Demon,” Ikkaku shouted to her. His scabbard and blade grasped firmly in his hands as he fell quickly into his stance. And despite the sweat that dripped down his neck, his lips were twisted into an eager grin.
She eyed him slowly, her gaze flickering only briefly to his lover before once again focusing on him. “You’ve come to die,” she corrected and in an instant, she was upon him.
Their swords clashed and Ikkaku was pushed back with the force of it, but he quickly righted himself and braced for another onslaught. Nicks and cuts covered his torso despite having blocked several of her attacks, but he, however, had yet to land even a single blow of his own. Her movements were fast and unpredictable, but their fight continued on and with him on the defensive.
She landed a heavy blow to his shoulder suddenly cutting deeply into his flesh and he collapsed to the ground with a howl. Ikkaku had expected her to deliver a finishing blow, but it didn’t come as she had rounded on Yumichika instead who had stood by silently, watching their fight as he gnawed on his thumb and completely defenseless. She sliced into his forearm when he shielded himself instinctively, but her second blow was blocked by Ikkaku’s scabbard. He made to attack her, to finally cut her and draw blood, but hesitated when he felt two thin arms wrap around him from behind.
Yumichika dragged him backwards with as much strength as he could muster, feeling the front of Ikkaku’s yukata dampen and stain with his blood. But even as Ikkaku struggled against him in a bid to continue fighting, he knew they had to get out. To stay was suicide.
The edge of the forest was closer now and he continued to bodily drag the baldheaded man with him even as the mad woman dogged them with each step, driving them out with her brutal attacks, cruel laughter and crushing reiatsu.
They collapsed on the ground when they finally breached the tree line, breathing hard and grateful when she didn’t follow after them. Yumichika gazed back into the trees with wide eyes, ignoring his bleeding arm and sweaty skin. The man beside him growled lowly and before he knew it, he was pinned to the ground with a strong hand fisted in his yukata.
“Don’t you ever interfere in one of my fights again,” Ikkaku yelled, even though he was just as relieved to be out of the forest as the other man. He shook his fist, still bunched in the man’s clothing and repeated, “don’t ever.”
Yumichika stayed on the ground, watching as the bald man stalked off and feeling just as distraught at being yelled at by his lover as he was with facing the demon. Her taunting laughter drew his attention once more, just in time to see her receding form.
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They had heard rumors. Before either of them had become shinigami, before their first encounter with Kenpachi Zaraki, they had heard the rumors and the stories and had scoffed at them. But as they traveled from district to district in search of new and stronger opponents, they eventually found themselves in Inuzamurai. And when they emerged from the forest, battered and bruised, Ikkaku couldn’t help feeling slightly jaded.
He’d been denied.
Denied not only a proper fight, but the chance to die in battle and it was a long time before he could forgive Yumichika for that. It was why he had demanded his lover swear to him to never hinder him in his fights again and why he had demanded Zaraki deliver the killing blow. But his captain had surprised him, chastising him instead before walking away and leaving him kneeling in the dirt and staring after him in awe.
He’d been lucky.
Lucky to have survived both encounters with these two demons and he swore to himself then that he would become stronger and fight them both again. And now that he saw her, he’d be damned if he missed out on the opportunity.
Ikkaku skidded to a halt in front of them and shouted, “that’s as far you go, Demon of Rukongia!” His hands were already gripping his sword and scabbard as he eyed the woman and he caste a slight glance at the white haired man standing beside her. “I’m sorry Captain Ukitake, but I can’t let you pass. Not with her anyway.”
“Explain yourself,” Jushiro demanded as he placed himself between them.
“Do you know who that woman is? What she’s do-”
“I am well aware of her history,” the captain cut in. “Now stand down, Third Seat.”
“It’s alright Jushiro,” she said, stepping around him. Kaminari hadn’t missed the use of her old name, had hoped never to hear again in fact, but she had long since decided that if any of her victims tried to seek retribution then she would give them the chance to take it. “If he has a problem with me, I want to hear it.”
“Don’t you remember me, Demon?”
“It’s a blur,” she admitted with a vague wave of her hand and it was true. Much of her time spent possessed by her own sword was a dark haze, but there were a few things she could recall. “Your bald head certainly seems familiar enough,” she said, giving him a measured look. “Tell me, did I mark you?” He looked thoughtful for a moment before he finally jerked his shihakusho aside to reveal the jagged scar she’d left behind on his shoulder. A souvenir from their first encounter. “Ah, now that I remember. Our fight was cut short wasn’t it?”
“Our next one won’t be,” Ikkaku declared.
“So you’ve come to challenge me then, to seek revenge?”
“I’ve come to finish our fight.”
Kaminari nodded in understanding, her hand falling to the hilt of her zanpakuto. But just as they were about to attack Ukitake stepped in between them once more.
“Wait,” he shouted, raising his hands up to hold them at bay before adding sternly, “if you two insist on fighting then so be it, but it will not be here where passersby can be injured.”
“The Eleventh Division’s training grounds should suffice,” Yumichika offered. “It’s not very far from here.”
The fighters agreed and the group walked the short distance to the Eleventh with the third and fifth seat at the lead, but along the way the two would caste furtive glances back over their shoulder. Whether it was to make sure was following or that she wouldn’t attack them when their backs were turned she wasn’t sure, but in the end it didn’t matter.
“You don’t have to fight him,” Jushiro said quietly beside her as the division gates loomed ahead.
“Yes I do.” Ikkaku wasn’t the first to come seeking retribution, and Kaminari doubted he’d be the last. “You know I do.”
They had quickly commandeered one of the large sand covered training fields and it wasn’t long before a large crowd had gathered around them as those busy sparring stopped to watch. But the two fighters paid them no mind as they stepped into their stances, clutching their weapons in a firm grip.
“I almost forgot to ask,” Ikkaku said as he leveled his sword at her. “What’s your name?”
“Kaminari of Inuzamurai,” she answered.
“Well Demon Kaminari, I’m Eleventh Squad’s Third Seat, Ikkaku Madarame.”
They attacked then, meeting in a flurry of sparks as their swords clashed together before disappearing and reappearing in flashes of shunpo. His movements were a blur as he poked and jabbed with zanpakuto and sheath while she was slashing and blocking him in turn. They broke away eventually, pausing in their attacks long enough to survey the damage they’ve done to each other.
Both were breathing hard, and despite the cuts that littered his body, Ikkaku was certain his Cheshire grin couldn’t be any bigger. In their first encounter, he had struggled to land even a single hit, had failed even. But he could touch her now. The cut on her cheek was bleeding slowly and she was favoring her left side where he’d landed a solid blow with his scabbard, no doubt leaving behind broken ribs in its wake.
If she was to be the measuring stick with which he gauged his improvement, then he was going to break her.
“You’re not quite like I remember,” he commented idly.
“Sanity has tempered me. You seem to have improved as well.”
“I didn’t have shikai the last time we met.”
“Then show me now,” she demanded.
“Extend, Hozukimaru,” Ikkaku cried as he slammed hilt and sheath together, whirling the zanpakuto in his hands as it shifted before he leveled the sharp spearhead at her. “Your turn, Demon.”
Kaminari’s sword stretched and twisted with the muttered command, “bleed, Akenisou,” transforming into a long curved blade. Her hands grasped the arched handle on its spine and pulled, separating it into two axe like weapons.
“Now that brings back memories.” With weapons poised, they sped towards each other.
Ikkaku brought his spear down forcefully, but she dodged the attack and quickly countered with a swing of her own. She made to strike him again, but he was already twisting Hozukimaru in his hands and slammed the pommel hard into her chest, knocking her back several paces before she finally skidded to a halt.
She took a step forward, ready to attack again, but stopped suddenly and frowned when she realized a strap on her sandal had broken.
“That’s a very unlucky omen,” Ikkaku warned, watching as she tested her footwear. “Maybe you should concede now.”
Kaminari eyed him carefully. “A thought occurs,” she said as she kicked her sandals off and shifted her feet into the coarse sand below. “If you really wanted to recreate our last encounter, then one of us should be naked.”
Ikkaku let out a bark of laughter. “I’d be willing to wait while you strip,” he offered, and the crowd of men surrounding them echoed him with their own taunts and laughter.
Her mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. “No doubt, but in the interest of fairness, I do believe it’s your turn.”
“Maybe next time.” He leapt at her suddenly, swinging his zanpakuto in a wide arch.
The ground beneath her cratered and she had to use both of her blades to block his attack, but she saw her opening and took it. Knocking the spearhead away, she scrapped her curved axes along the shaft of his zanpakuto with deadly intent, but Ikkaku saw his own opening. Yelling the command “split apart”, the three part pole separated and struck home, imbedding deep into her shoulder and mirroring the gash she had given him on their first encounter.
Kaminari waivered slightly, but steadied herself quickly and threw one of her axes at him with lethal accuracy. He barely managed to dodge it, but acted quickly and took advantage of her loss. She ducked as Hozukimaru separated again and she stretched out her arm, pointing the butt of her axe towards him and summoned its twin and extending her reach, but Ikkaku back flipped to avoid her aim on his throat.
Their reiatsu flooded around them as they rushed towards each other again with a final swing of their blades and when the dust had settled, those watching were surprised that either of them were still standing.
Blood was dripping from their wounds, falling and mingling with centuries upon centuries of aged old blood that already tainted the sand beneath them. They were still panting, their breath ghosting over the other’s neck while their zanpakutos were imbedded deep into their sides.
“You have gotten stronger,” she whispered to him, grunting when he pulled his blade from her and collapsed to the ground.
He turned and took a step and then he was falling too. Black spots clouded his vision, but he could still make out the forms of his division mates as they hurried around him, shouting for the Fourth Division healers.
“Damn it,” he grunted, but his wide grin was still in place even as darkness claimed him.
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A half empty bottle of sake lay discarded next to him as he reclined lazily on the rooftop with his hand tucked into his shihakusho.
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding while I’ve had to deal with those new recruits. I swear, you’re as bad as the captain.”
Ikkaku cracked an eye at the other man, watching as Yumichika carded a practiced hand through his dark hair before placing it on his hip. The picture of a nagging wife. “How are the newbie’s anyway?”
“As pitiful and inept as usual,” the fifth seat said, taking in the empty sake bottles littering the gold terracotta shingles.
“You said that about the last group.”
“Was I wrong?” A noncommittal grunt answered him and he sighed exasperatedly. “Well, are you going to stay up here all day or are you going to come help me train those bumbling morons?”
“Yeah, yeah I’m up,” Ikkaku muttered, stretching out languidly before he rolled to his feet.
They began making their way back to their division and almost reached the gates when they suddenly spied the sickly white haired captain walking alongside a lean brunette woman. But as they passed, a niggling feeling sprouted in the back of Ikkaku’s mind and it was another moment before comprehension finally flickered in his black eyes.
“That woman…”
Rage grew and swelled with his recognition and before he could even stop himself he was already flash stepping towards her.
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The heavy reiatsu bore down on them as they traveled through the forest and Ikkaku’s heart was already pounding at the thought of the impending fight. His companion, however, was less than enthusiastic.
Bits of leaves and dirt clung to his hair stubbornly from when he had tripped and fallen over a tree root and he couldn’t stop the frustrated sigh that escaped him as he pulled out a stray twig. Yumichika’s face was scrunched up in disgust, not only at his own disheveled appearance, but at the stench of decay for which he willed himself to stop breathing. He trudged on nonetheless, dutifully following the bald man deeper into the woods, but when they made brief eye contact he was certain his glare promised pain. One way or another, Ikkaku was going to make this up to him.
They found her standing atop a fallen tree with her back to them, her curved blades clutched in each hand. She made no move to attack them, but they knew better than to drop their guard. It was only when Ikkaku took a tentative step forward that she even acknowledged their presence at all and only with a half turn in their direction. The threat was clear though and Yumichika swallowed against the wave of unease that swept through him.
“I’ve come to fight you, Demon,” Ikkaku shouted to her. His scabbard and blade grasped firmly in his hands as he fell quickly into his stance. And despite the sweat that dripped down his neck, his lips were twisted into an eager grin.
She eyed him slowly, her gaze flickering only briefly to his lover before once again focusing on him. “You’ve come to die,” she corrected and in an instant, she was upon him.
Their swords clashed and Ikkaku was pushed back with the force of it, but he quickly righted himself and braced for another onslaught. Nicks and cuts covered his torso despite having blocked several of her attacks, but he, however, had yet to land even a single blow of his own. Her movements were fast and unpredictable, but their fight continued on and with him on the defensive.
She landed a heavy blow to his shoulder suddenly cutting deeply into his flesh and he collapsed to the ground with a howl. Ikkaku had expected her to deliver a finishing blow, but it didn’t come as she had rounded on Yumichika instead who had stood by silently, watching their fight as he gnawed on his thumb and completely defenseless. She sliced into his forearm when he shielded himself instinctively, but her second blow was blocked by Ikkaku’s scabbard. He made to attack her, to finally cut her and draw blood, but hesitated when he felt two thin arms wrap around him from behind.
Yumichika dragged him backwards with as much strength as he could muster, feeling the front of Ikkaku’s yukata dampen and stain with his blood. But even as Ikkaku struggled against him in a bid to continue fighting, he knew they had to get out. To stay was suicide.
The edge of the forest was closer now and he continued to bodily drag the baldheaded man with him even as the mad woman dogged them with each step, driving them out with her brutal attacks, cruel laughter and crushing reiatsu.
They collapsed on the ground when they finally breached the tree line, breathing hard and grateful when she didn’t follow after them. Yumichika gazed back into the trees with wide eyes, ignoring his bleeding arm and sweaty skin. The man beside him growled lowly and before he knew it, he was pinned to the ground with a strong hand fisted in his yukata.
“Don’t you ever interfere in one of my fights again,” Ikkaku yelled, even though he was just as relieved to be out of the forest as the other man. He shook his fist, still bunched in the man’s clothing and repeated, “don’t ever.”
Yumichika stayed on the ground, watching as the bald man stalked off and feeling just as distraught at being yelled at by his lover as he was with facing the demon. Her taunting laughter drew his attention once more, just in time to see her receding form.
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They had heard rumors. Before either of them had become shinigami, before their first encounter with Kenpachi Zaraki, they had heard the rumors and the stories and had scoffed at them. But as they traveled from district to district in search of new and stronger opponents, they eventually found themselves in Inuzamurai. And when they emerged from the forest, battered and bruised, Ikkaku couldn’t help feeling slightly jaded.
He’d been denied.
Denied not only a proper fight, but the chance to die in battle and it was a long time before he could forgive Yumichika for that. It was why he had demanded his lover swear to him to never hinder him in his fights again and why he had demanded Zaraki deliver the killing blow. But his captain had surprised him, chastising him instead before walking away and leaving him kneeling in the dirt and staring after him in awe.
He’d been lucky.
Lucky to have survived both encounters with these two demons and he swore to himself then that he would become stronger and fight them both again. And now that he saw her, he’d be damned if he missed out on the opportunity.
Ikkaku skidded to a halt in front of them and shouted, “that’s as far you go, Demon of Rukongia!” His hands were already gripping his sword and scabbard as he eyed the woman and he caste a slight glance at the white haired man standing beside her. “I’m sorry Captain Ukitake, but I can’t let you pass. Not with her anyway.”
“Explain yourself,” Jushiro demanded as he placed himself between them.
“Do you know who that woman is? What she’s do-”
“I am well aware of her history,” the captain cut in. “Now stand down, Third Seat.”
“It’s alright Jushiro,” she said, stepping around him. Kaminari hadn’t missed the use of her old name, had hoped never to hear again in fact, but she had long since decided that if any of her victims tried to seek retribution then she would give them the chance to take it. “If he has a problem with me, I want to hear it.”
“Don’t you remember me, Demon?”
“It’s a blur,” she admitted with a vague wave of her hand and it was true. Much of her time spent possessed by her own sword was a dark haze, but there were a few things she could recall. “Your bald head certainly seems familiar enough,” she said, giving him a measured look. “Tell me, did I mark you?” He looked thoughtful for a moment before he finally jerked his shihakusho aside to reveal the jagged scar she’d left behind on his shoulder. A souvenir from their first encounter. “Ah, now that I remember. Our fight was cut short wasn’t it?”
“Our next one won’t be,” Ikkaku declared.
“So you’ve come to challenge me then, to seek revenge?”
“I’ve come to finish our fight.”
Kaminari nodded in understanding, her hand falling to the hilt of her zanpakuto. But just as they were about to attack Ukitake stepped in between them once more.
“Wait,” he shouted, raising his hands up to hold them at bay before adding sternly, “if you two insist on fighting then so be it, but it will not be here where passersby can be injured.”
“The Eleventh Division’s training grounds should suffice,” Yumichika offered. “It’s not very far from here.”
The fighters agreed and the group walked the short distance to the Eleventh with the third and fifth seat at the lead, but along the way the two would caste furtive glances back over their shoulder. Whether it was to make sure was following or that she wouldn’t attack them when their backs were turned she wasn’t sure, but in the end it didn’t matter.
“You don’t have to fight him,” Jushiro said quietly beside her as the division gates loomed ahead.
“Yes I do.” Ikkaku wasn’t the first to come seeking retribution, and Kaminari doubted he’d be the last. “You know I do.”
They had quickly commandeered one of the large sand covered training fields and it wasn’t long before a large crowd had gathered around them as those busy sparring stopped to watch. But the two fighters paid them no mind as they stepped into their stances, clutching their weapons in a firm grip.
“I almost forgot to ask,” Ikkaku said as he leveled his sword at her. “What’s your name?”
“Kaminari of Inuzamurai,” she answered.
“Well Demon Kaminari, I’m Eleventh Squad’s Third Seat, Ikkaku Madarame.”
They attacked then, meeting in a flurry of sparks as their swords clashed together before disappearing and reappearing in flashes of shunpo. His movements were a blur as he poked and jabbed with zanpakuto and sheath while she was slashing and blocking him in turn. They broke away eventually, pausing in their attacks long enough to survey the damage they’ve done to each other.
Both were breathing hard, and despite the cuts that littered his body, Ikkaku was certain his Cheshire grin couldn’t be any bigger. In their first encounter, he had struggled to land even a single hit, had failed even. But he could touch her now. The cut on her cheek was bleeding slowly and she was favoring her left side where he’d landed a solid blow with his scabbard, no doubt leaving behind broken ribs in its wake.
If she was to be the measuring stick with which he gauged his improvement, then he was going to break her.
“You’re not quite like I remember,” he commented idly.
“Sanity has tempered me. You seem to have improved as well.”
“I didn’t have shikai the last time we met.”
“Then show me now,” she demanded.
“Extend, Hozukimaru,” Ikkaku cried as he slammed hilt and sheath together, whirling the zanpakuto in his hands as it shifted before he leveled the sharp spearhead at her. “Your turn, Demon.”
Kaminari’s sword stretched and twisted with the muttered command, “bleed, Akenisou,” transforming into a long curved blade. Her hands grasped the arched handle on its spine and pulled, separating it into two axe like weapons.
“Now that brings back memories.” With weapons poised, they sped towards each other.
Ikkaku brought his spear down forcefully, but she dodged the attack and quickly countered with a swing of her own. She made to strike him again, but he was already twisting Hozukimaru in his hands and slammed the pommel hard into her chest, knocking her back several paces before she finally skidded to a halt.
She took a step forward, ready to attack again, but stopped suddenly and frowned when she realized a strap on her sandal had broken.
“That’s a very unlucky omen,” Ikkaku warned, watching as she tested her footwear. “Maybe you should concede now.”
Kaminari eyed him carefully. “A thought occurs,” she said as she kicked her sandals off and shifted her feet into the coarse sand below. “If you really wanted to recreate our last encounter, then one of us should be naked.”
Ikkaku let out a bark of laughter. “I’d be willing to wait while you strip,” he offered, and the crowd of men surrounding them echoed him with their own taunts and laughter.
Her mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. “No doubt, but in the interest of fairness, I do believe it’s your turn.”
“Maybe next time.” He leapt at her suddenly, swinging his zanpakuto in a wide arch.
The ground beneath her cratered and she had to use both of her blades to block his attack, but she saw her opening and took it. Knocking the spearhead away, she scrapped her curved axes along the shaft of his zanpakuto with deadly intent, but Ikkaku saw his own opening. Yelling the command “split apart”, the three part pole separated and struck home, imbedding deep into her shoulder and mirroring the gash she had given him on their first encounter.
Kaminari waivered slightly, but steadied herself quickly and threw one of her axes at him with lethal accuracy. He barely managed to dodge it, but acted quickly and took advantage of her loss. She ducked as Hozukimaru separated again and she stretched out her arm, pointing the butt of her axe towards him and summoned its twin and extending her reach, but Ikkaku back flipped to avoid her aim on his throat.
Their reiatsu flooded around them as they rushed towards each other again with a final swing of their blades and when the dust had settled, those watching were surprised that either of them were still standing.
Blood was dripping from their wounds, falling and mingling with centuries upon centuries of aged old blood that already tainted the sand beneath them. They were still panting, their breath ghosting over the other’s neck while their zanpakutos were imbedded deep into their sides.
“You have gotten stronger,” she whispered to him, grunting when he pulled his blade from her and collapsed to the ground.
He turned and took a step and then he was falling too. Black spots clouded his vision, but he could still make out the forms of his division mates as they hurried around him, shouting for the Fourth Division healers.
“Damn it,” he grunted, but his wide grin was still in place even as darkness claimed him.