Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Reminiscence ❯ 02 -- Selfless ( Chapter 2 )

Title: Reminiscence

Memory: 02 -- Selfless

Author: La Loba de Mibu

Rating: PG

Characters: Ikkaku and Yumichika

Warnings: None

Summary: Despite his brash and sometimes barbaric exterior, Ikkaku was a rather selfless person. For all his pomp and circumstance, Yumichika could be quite selfless too.

Notes: The number of the chapter does not reflect the chronological order of the present storyline, rather the flashback portrayed therein.

Disclaimer: Tite Kubo owns all things Bleach.

 

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Previous Memories ~ Series Index

 

::Memory 01::

 

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When they first met, after only three days of tailing Ikkaku, Yumichika had developed a clear sense of the other man's rhythm of life. Ikkaku would meander around a district, picking fights and picking up the defeated party's coin as a reward more often then not. When there was no one to challenge he'd wander around the market place looking for food, and when that need was satisfied, he'd ask around about local bounties. If that proved fruitless, he'd call it a day and rent a room for the night at a cheap inn when he had the coin, or camp out in the wilderness of the town's outskirts when he didn't.

 

Yumichika was sure that his presence hovering in the background must have annoyed the bald headed man to death, if the throbbing veins at his temples were anything to go by; however, not once did the other man actually follow through on any of his threats to hurt Yumi, so he continued to shadow the irritable man.

 

However, unlike Ikkaku, Yumichika didn't even have a single coin to his name. And for the three days he trailed the man, he'd had no luck in scavenging any food for himself other that a few half moldy roots he'd dug up the second night when Ikkaku had camped by a small wood. By the forth day, he was so light headed he couldn't even see straight anymore. He hadn't realized he collapsed on the path until he'd woken up to find himself being carried on Ikkaku's back sometime later.

 

Ikkaku had stopped as soon as he groaned awake, settling them down on the grass by the path, and immediately pushing a meat bun into one of his pale shaky hands. Yumichika devoured it, along with three others. Later that night, Ikkaku shared more food as well as his campfire with him, though he hadn't presumed to ask; because despite his brash and sometimes barbaric exterior, Ikkaku was a rather selfless person. And for all his pomp and circumstance, Yumichika could be quite selfless too; well, when it came to certain people he could be.

 

 

He never ever forgot the gruff kindness Ikkaku had shown him. It was the first he'd been shown in his life since he awoke in one of Rukongai's worst districts after passing away from his life on earth.

 

So it was that years later, when he and Ikkaku hit an economic rough patch on their travels through the rough outer districts, Yumichika decided it was time he learned from example and repaid his now good friend in kind.

 

“Che, now that's just lame,” Ikkaku complained, as he checked the pockets of a group of ruffians he and Yumi had just dispatched, “None of these bastards has a single coin on `em!”

 

Yumichika sighed as he checked one last pocket. It seemed that everyone in these parts was stripped for money. A stomach gurgled loudly and he turned to watch Ikkaku grumble a dejected command for silence at his abdomen. Yumichika smiled at the antic, despite his own answering hunger pangs. They hadn't eaten a decent meal in nearly a month, scraping by on mouthfuls of whatever they managed to scavenge from field, forest, and much to Yumi's disgust, sometimes garbage.

 

“Ikkaku, let's split up for a while. We might have more luck that way,” he suggested, stepping away from the men they had felled.

 

“Hmm, yea . . . Meet me at that big oak we passed by on the outskirts before sundown,” he agreed and left with a parting nod.

 

Yumichika watched him go for a moment before he turned as well, making a bee line for the market place. He'd already made his decision that morning when he'd seen the way Ikkaku was almost stumbling along the path in front of him. Yumichika had realized earlier that week, that for some time Ikkaku had been passing most of the food they found along to him, eating much less than his fair share of whatever they scavenged up.

 

Yumichika was in a word, outraged. Clear logic dictated that if anyone should be skimping out on food it should be him, not Ikkaku. He was smaller, more delicately built, and fought less often than Ikkaku; logic clearly dictated that he didn't need as much food as his larger more active companion. Of course, Ikkaku usually told logic to fuck off and die.

 

The idiot often picked the worst of times and the worst of ways to be noble; on occasion making Yumi's mouth twitch with the urge to give him a good tongue lashing. But Ikkaku was an outrageously, perhaps even violently, proud moron, and Yumichika would rather bite his tongue off then make him lose face by confronting him about things like this. Besides, he'd already found the solution.

 

“Welcome! How may I help you? Oh my, what a divine kimono!” the shopkeeper greeted Yumichika as he walked into her kimono stall.

 

Yumi couldn't help but smile fondly at the material as he ran a hand over the immaculate bright colored threads of the pattern on the pale sleeves; it was still relatively new. He'd bought it only a little less than a year ago, during a time when Ikkaku had hit a jackpot while gambling; the bastard had incredible luck. He had bought the beautiful kimono with his share of the winnings, and taken extreme care of it.

 

“Yes, it is,” he agreed, just a tad melancholy, “Actually, I've come to trade it, if you please.”

 

The shopkeeper's eyes widened in surprise, but they quickly bartered a fair price for the item. Yumichika drove a hard bargain, if he was going to part with his precious kimono, then he was going to milk as much as possible out of it. Finally he walked out of the shop in a much duller gray yukata lacking even the simplest of designs, and headed towards the food stands with a purse full of money.

 

When he arrived at the oak tree with a box of riceballs, and steaming meat buns in an ugly plain yukata, he thought Ikkaku's eyes would fall out his head. He tossed him the now heavy coin purse as he settled on the ground beside the bald man, before unveiling their first real meal in a month.

 

“Yumi—” Ikkaku began, brow furrowing as he looked him up and down, but Yumichika stuffed a meat bun in his mouth to silence him.

 

He didn't want to hear it. He'd been selfish to keep the blasted kimono as long as he had with how bad things had been going, and he knew it. It didn't mean he wanted to hear it said out loud.

 

“Shut up and eat,” he huffed, and pointed at the purse, “That should keep us well fed for three weeks, maybe more if we stretch it, long enough to get to the next - and hopefully better off - district.”

 

He ignored the stunned way Ikkaku sifted through the coins, and turned to his meal. He resolutely kept his eyes on the horizon, watching the sun as it slowly sunk into the earth even as he felt Ikkaku's stares throughout their meal. But as time went on, it began to irk him, and it wasn't long before he found himself getting defensive, having completely misinterpreted the reason behind Ikkaku's gaze.

 

“I know I must look a fright, but honestly, staring like that is just brutish!” he snapped eventually, but he only ended up frowning and picking idly at the ugly material covering his lap, “It was the least expensive thing they had . . . It's just my luck. Grey isn't suited to just anyone, you know.”

 

He ventured a look at Ikkaku, where he expected to find a snide expression at his misfortune, but instead was met with a new look he couldn't quite read. The look eventually turned into a smirk, but again it was not one familiar to Yumi; and he could only stare back slightly confused as Ikkaku broke the last of the meat buns in half and offered him the larger of the two pieces.

 

That pulled Yumichika away from trying to interpret the strange new looks, and he made it a point to take the smaller piece from Ikkaku's other hand and push the one he'd originally offered away. The smile Ikkaku gave him then was just plain weird.

 

“Guess it's a good thing you're not just anyone then,” Ikkaku finally replied, weird smile turning into an equally weird grin.

 

That grin, and the accompanying veiled compliment, made Yumichika feel flustered in Ikkaku's presence for the first time since they'd met. He turned away, bringing his piece of the last meat bun to his face with both hands, and nibbling on it; a very infrequent nervous gesture which Ikkaku, unbeknownst to Yumi, had long learned to recognize.

 

“Well, of course not,” he mumbled between nibbles, further flustered as Ikkaku chuckled quietly beside him.

 

It was probably too much to hope that the orange glow of the sunset would obscure the pink he knew to be tinting his cheeks.

 

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~*Owari*~