baroqueworks | (no subject)

pound of flesh;

Asked me if I've, uh, read his own
And whether I could spare a pound
Of flesh To cover his bare bones
I said "Man, take a pound, take two.
What's a pound of flesh between friends like me
and you?"

Ikkaku has an almost pathological need for balance. Every step taken with his left foot must have a corresponding step from the right; for every hour he spends with Hoozukimaru in his left hand, he switches over to the right. Every hit parried or countered from one direction must have another parry or counter from the opposite direction. Every rock kicked must have the same number of kicks from each foot.

Every time Yachiru chews on one side of his head, he keeps her on the other side until she has gnawed on it from that direction.

Ikkaku himself isn't always aware that he does it, but Yumichika wonders if the only reason he's so eager for another fight with Ichigo is so he can add a scar to the other side of his chest.

music box;

Feel mortality surround me
I close my eyes and think that I have found me
But life inside the music box ain't easy
The mallets hit the gears are always turning
And everyone inside the mechanism
Is yearning to get out

Yumichika likes to imagine that Captain Zaraki's spiritual pressure tastes like a mouthful of blood. That Yachiru's tastes like candy dipped in blood. He knows Hisagi -- like a warm bowl of clear soup. Yumichika knows from a taste of his reiatsu that Hisagi is reliable, steady, loyal. He's a good man, and Yumichika almost regrets having had to leave him panting, as it were.

He thinks all the girls would be a little sweet. Matsumoto Rangiku would be tangy, Kuchiki Rukia minty. He can't imagine a flavor for himself -- too many aspects to take into account, too many combinations of personality and skill and history to sum up in a simple taste.

Yumichika likes to imagine that Ikkaku's spiritual pressure is delicious. Bitter and spicy, heady and strong. He can't imagine matching it to anything he's tasted yet, but he thinks that he'll know when he tries it, someday.

blue;

Never seen a bluer sky
Yeah I can feel it reaching out
And moving closer
There's something about blue
Asked myself what it's all for
You know the funny thing about it
I couldn't answer
No I couldn't answer

Ikkaku sometimes wonders if he can't get his fingers knuckles-deep into the scar Ichigo had left on his chest. He'd peel back the skin, let it split back along the seams it had healed along, feel the fibers of his muscles against his knuckles and his nails scrape along the cartilage of his ribs. (He thinks it might look a bit like peeling an orange even if intellectually he knows he'd be bleeding everywhere.)

Yumichika never wonders why he picks at the scar -- it's just something he does and maybe it itches or it hurts (and it sort of does, when it's cold as fuck outside) or maybe he just does it compulsively because it took a hell of a lot of wheedling and compromising to convince Captain Unohana to let it scar. Scars are scars are scars, and if Ikkaku picks at them it's because he's fucking insane and Yumichika accepts that about him.

Yumichika probably realizes that he picks at minor cuts, too. The ones he deems too unimportant and not life-threatening enough to bring to the attention of 4th Division healers. Dragging out the healing time, relishing the way blood wells up in the reopened wound. Captain Unohana would scold. Iemura would bitch. (Yumichika doesn't complain, though. He thinks scars look great -- on other people. Not least of all on Ikkaku. Ikkaku thinks Yumichika has great taste.)

words that we couldn't say;

Funny ain't it
Games people play
Scratch it paint it
One in the same
We couldn't find them
So we tried to hide them
Words that we couldn't say

When Ikkaku and Yumichika clash, the entire division gets restless. And noisier, and more annoying, and more obnoxious, and all of Seireitei feels it down to its bones. Yumichika and Ikkaku were always on the same wavelength. It was one of those constants; like Captains Kyouraku and Ukitake. Like Kenpachi and Yachiru. They don't seriously argue very often -- once every couple decades or so, and people rarely ever know why -- but whatever it is, it doesn't surprise anyone that Ikkaku usually gets his way.

The entire Division's barracks gets inundated with agitated spiritual pressure, and the only ones immune are Captain Zaraki and Yachiru. Everyone else walks on eggshells, because Ikkaku's gonna be in a foul mood and Yumichika gets even higher-strung than usual.

And then, most of the time, after a few days, without a word to each other, everything goes back to normal. Sort of. Ikkaku's considerate and thoughtful, judiciously keeps his mouth shut when appropriate. Yumichika keeps his complaints centered on things Ikkaku also likes to bitch about, and his usually sharp mocking to gentle ribbing.

They tiptoe around each other for a week or so, but neither says what more or less boils down to, This is stupid and I miss you.

riot;

You're not the only one
Refusing to back down
You're not the only one
So get up

Let's start a riot, a riot
Let's start a riot

"Name's Abarai Renji," Ikkaku says with a smirk, shifts Hoozukimaru across his shoulders and cracks his neck. "Weak as shit. Asked me to train him."

Yumichika knows that name -- remembers the transfer, remembers the Inuzuri stray that came with it. Abarai had wild eyes, those tattoos -- and he sneaks a look at Ikkaku. "Are you going to?"

Ikkaku spends most of the next day trashing Renji. He arrives back to the quad with a thoughtful expression, without a scratch. "Wants to beat Kuchiki Byakuya," he said, then nodded once, decisively. "Like to see where he goes."

Renji is a stubborn hothead who survived the pits of Rukongai, who has a goal and the determination to stop at nothing to reach it. Ikkaku doesn't train him so much as fight him until he can't move and then spend the next few minutes dissing his technique. Yumichika's there when Renji learns his soul cutter's name. He's on the ground, fingers twitching, trying to push himself upright while Ikkaku steps on his back and presses him back down.

When Renji finally lets out a triumphant roar of, Howl, Zabimaru! Ikkaku releases Hoozukimaru and grins.

life starts now;

You've done all the things that could kill you somehow
And you're so far down
But you will survive it somehow because life starts now.

He whispers in his ear, promises great things in the future, tells him that he's got nothing to lose, that he could become a lieutenant, a captain, anything he wants. He's resplendent in greens and blues, head held high, eyes sharp as the edge of a soul cutter blade.

Say my name, Yumichika.

Yumichika finally understands, smiles and breathes, Ruriiro Kujaku -- and his first reaction is to jump up and down and cheer because his shikai is so fucking powerful and he could do great things, win against anyone; he's never seen a soul cutter like this, and Yumichika thinks that he could maybe even beat Ikkaku with it --

and then he remembers the rest of the division and requests very politely (because he's still not sure how to address a soul cutter, and Ruriiro Kujaku is at once both alien and so utterly familiar) that he change into something more suited to melee combat.

Kujaku gives him a long, bored look and (almost flippantly, the bastard) refuses.

headstrong;

Back off I’ll take you on
Headstrong to take on anyone
I know that you are wrong
Headstrong we’re headstrong

Ikkaku stands in a patch of broad-leafed plants that reach his waist, hollow little flowers dangling like lanterns off nearly every stem. The patch is as wide as he is tall, long enough to line three guys of his height head-to-toe in; shaped like a lizard's claw. And he can see the shape of a serpent in the valley-- in the way the grass bends, as if pressed flat by some enormous, twisting burst of wind.

There's a distant roar, the leaves in a thick cluster of bamboo shudder violently and Ikkaku starts forward again.

He wakes up to Yumichika shaking him by the shoulder, eyes wide in the dark. "You'll give us away," Yumichika says flatly. "We're in hollow country. You're like a beacon for anyone who wants to find us."

It takes a moment to remember: there are no deep, grassy valleys in Soul Society. No fields of grass that stretch beyond a horizon, no lone temple atop high foggy mountains. No thick clusters of bamboo growing around a speeding river. It's strange, though. Ikkaku hasn't felt so calm in a long time.

The next time he has this dream, it's in a relatively safe place and Yumichika sleeps through it.

He didn't expect to be facing an enormous dragon breathing on his face, but such is his life.

Ikkaku runs his tongue over his teeth, draws his sword and sneers at the oversized lizard like it isn't even worth his attention. It bares its teeth and Ikkaku hears You're an interesting one, before the dragon opens its mouth and roars.

cover up;

Put the mask back on, put the mask back on
Don't take it off till everbody's gone
Put the mask back on, put the mask back on
No disguise has ever lasted so long

Yumichika is a terrible liar. He's never outright lied about Ruriiro Kujaku, but he thinks that if Ikkaku asked the right questions, he'd snap like a twig.

He doesn't, though. Ask questions. Ikkaku doesn't ask questions because he knows that if Yumichika wanted to tell him something, Yumichika would make damn sure he hears it whether or not he really wanted to in the first place.

He can't even quite lie to himself, Yumichika thinks, or else his true shikai would be Fuji Kujaku, and he'd be a scarred, bulky bastard with an eyebrow piercing and zero skill at kidou. He'd crop his hair short (or shave it off completely), skip accessories and decorations, ignore the blisters and calluses on his hands, ignore the people who talk down to his division 'cause the Zaraki Division is the best and the strongest and if other people just don't get it, then fuck 'em.

He told this to Yachiru, once. Nothing about Kujaku, just -- Maybe if I were more like the rest of the division -- and she'd punched him so hard on the shoulder she almost dislocated the rest of his arm. She'd said, "But then are ya gonna turn stupid like the rest'a the guys, too?"

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