Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Reminiscence ❯ 03 -- Fight Dirty ( Chapter 3 )

Title: Reminiscence

Memory: 03 - Fight Dirty

Author: La Loba de Mibu

Rating: PG

Characters: Ikkaku and Yumichika

Warnings: None

Summary: Throughout the centuries, Ikkaku had learned all of Yumichika's buttons; and knew just how to push them, to get the most out of a spar.

Note: 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.

 

Previous Memories ~ Series Index

 

::Memory 01::Memory 02::

 

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Because a spazztastic Yumichika is pure love . . . and caffeine is my crack . . .

--Loba

 

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“Watch the face!” Yumichika screamed in rage as Ikkaku's zanpaktoh swung a little too close for comfort.

 

“Learn to dodge!” Ikkaku shouted back with a fierce grin and lunged towards his companion's impeccable visage once more but was quickly blocked.

 

They had recently finished another boring patrol, and decided to make up for it with a friendly spar on the 11th Division's training grounds. Ikkaku was developing a nice high, but he needed to push further if it was going to be anywhere near satisfying.

 

There were only three people in the Gotei 13 that could give Ikkaku a truly satisfying spar. The first and most obvious was his captain, Zaraki, whose sheer amount of reiatsu never failed to make Ikkaku drunk with bloodlust. The second, and most unbelievably to anyone outside the 11th, was his vice-captain, Yachiru, whom saw their spars as a game of tag where Ikkaku was it; and even after more than a century, Ikkaku had yet to catch the pink-haired blur. Finally, the most overlooked was probably Yumichika, whose prissy, fickle demeanor had always belied the fighting spirit held within . . .

 

“Teach me to fight,” Yumichika had requested one day centuries ago.

 

He had been bandaging a long gash on Ikkaku's forearm, and had looked up suddenly to pin Ikkaku with a pair of intense violet eyes. Ikkaku couldn't deny it caught him a bit by surprise; it had never crossed his mind that his slight and undeniably effeminate traveling companion would ever desire to wield a blade.

 

“Why would you wanna learn?” Ikkaku had asked, utterly curious. When he saw the other's eyes take on a dreamy expression he'd learned to dread over the past months of their travels together, Ikkaku became wary.

 

“Because,” Yumi had placed his hands on his cheeks and quietly gushed, “It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

 

That was not the answer Ikkaku had been expecting, and made him dubious that the request wasn't just another one of Yumichika's odd childish whims, so he'd refused.

 

But one night weeks later, when he'd left Yumichika alone briefly to collect a bounty, he'd come back to find his companion surrounded by three rather burly drunkards. From the wholly disgusted look on his face, Ikkaku could only imagine the men had mistaken him for a common hustler, and were propositioning him. Ikkaku had moved in just as Yumichika gave them a scathing retort, but before he could get there, one of the drunks angrily grabbed the slight young man and backhanded him roughly across the face.

 

Ikkaku had been on them in a second, filleting the two closest to him without a care. He'd turned to get rid of the one who'd struck his companion, only to witness in shock as Yumichika screamed in absolute rage and broke the taller man's nose with a single strike of his palm; then proceeded to kick the brute's head in savagely when he'd doubled over from the shock of the first blow.

 

“How dare you touch my face, you vile—” a long string of expletives followed, each one paired with another kick; profanities such as Ikkaku had never imagined the delicate looking young man to have ever heard, much less know how to use.

 

The next day he'd presented Yumi with a simple kodachi, and began teaching him to wield it. Surprisingly, Yumichika took to it like a fish to water; and it was only after watching Yumichika's first victorious swordfight, that Ikkaku came to understand what the other had meant when he'd called it beautiful . . .

 

No one, aside from Zaraki and Yachiru, knew that it had been Ikkaku who had taught Yumichika to fight. But if they did, most would certainly think it boring to fight a former student, because as a teacher, one would know all the student's moves. But Yumichika had a habit of absorbing what he was taught and manipulating it in such a way as to be almost irreconcilable with it origins; and that was something that he always found irresistibly entertaining. Throughout the centuries, Ikkaku had also learned all of Yumichika's buttons; and knew just how to push them, to get the most out of a spar.

 

For instance, going for his face made Yumichika fight dirty; as demonstrated when Ikkaku prepared to parry Yumi's next strike, only to end up taking a foot square in the jaw, hard.

 

“Ikkaku, you balding bastard! So help me, I'll kill you if you keep that up!” the normally calm beauty was screeching like a banshee, which only made Ikkaku laugh heartily; Yumichika's fist was quite suddenly and very quickly coming at his face.

 

“Oooh, such a scary face, Yumichika!” Ikkaku taunted, barely managing to dodge the punch, “I thought you were immune to such ugly expressions!”

 

Using the word ugly in reference to Yumichika made his reiatsu climb through the roof and become a damn right murderous force of nature.

 

Ikkaku laughed, feeling a glorious adrenaline rush as Yumi's zanpaktoh came crashing savagely down into his sheath, and actually managed to crack it, with a movement almost too quick to be seen. Wanting to egg him on further, he swung Houzikimaru towards the other's face again, wondering how Yumi would counter at this close a range. But Yumichika couldn't dodge fast enough from such a short distance, and the tip of Ikkaku's sword managed to prick his cheek just slightly. Ikkaku's eyes widened, recognizing the danger of his error, and he drew his sheath and sword close as he braced himself against the wrath of Yumichika's retaliation.

 

Pain, like nothing else on earth or soul society, bloomed between Ikkaku's legs and he couldn't even find the breath to curse as he fell in a pathetic heap to his knees. Ikkaku couldn't make out the insults Yumichika was shrieking at him over the sound of whatever the other was beating his head with either. All he could do was groan pitifully as he cupped his aching manhood, while his skull took a nice thrashing.

 

Yep, going for Yumichika's face made him fight really really dirty. But Ikkaku wouldn't have it any other way.

 

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~*Owari*~

 

 

 

fire dream

 

mistrust

 

heart beat