Chapter Text
“It’s done.”
Madarame Ikkaku stood over the lifeless body of a man he didn’t know the name of, a smoking gun in his hand. Fitted black gloves clung to his fingers where they gripped the pistol stock in one hand and a cellphone in the other, his brow tense as he watched the man bleed out on expensive, Persian carpet. He brought the butt of his gun up to rub at the crease in his brow, an exasperated sigh on his lips. He knew Zaraki wasn’t going to be happy about the mess, but then again, he shouldn’t have sent Ikkaku if he wanted things clean.
He waited for the affirmative on the other end of the line before he dropped the phone onto the floor and smashed the heel of his boot into the screen with a satisfying crack. The glass splintered, a few stray pieces popping loose, but the screen remained lit. Already irritated and always a half-lit fuse, Ikkaku growled and stomped on the thing again, this time with feeling.
“Stupid piece of crap,” Ikakku grumbled as he stomped on it once more for good measure, only to send a bullet through the screen anyway just to make sure it was completely destroyed. He ran a gloved hand over his shaved head and took a deep breath, assessing the surroundings around him as he made a mental list of what needed his immediate attention, and what could be left behind.
The objectively tacky and overly-grandoise bedroom was— pretty fucked. Other than the man continuing to bleed out at Ikkaku’s feet, there was a broken table at the seating area near the gigantic French doors that lead to the balcony; his point of entry, and where the scuffle had started. One of the chairs there was pretty banged up, too, full of bullet holes and somehow still steaming a little. A mirror to a vanity was broken, large shards of glass scattered near the four-post bed that had, miraculously, remained untouched. A dead bodyguard was hanging halfway over the balcony railing, beyond the open French doors, and another one was leaning up against the door into the bedroom, sitting as if he were simply taking a break if it weren’t for the gaping hole in his forehead.
An almost imperceptible movement at the corner of his eye had Ikkaku looking back towards the bed, a barely-there rustle of the ridiculously fluffy comforter that only a trained eye could catch. With no effort at all, Ikkaku leaned his head slightly to the left just as a shard of glass whizzed by his ear, dodging the attack. His eyes went wide as a warm trickle of blood notified him he’d been cut; it was nothing serious, considering he didn’t feel the slice, but ears bled like a bitch, and he could already feel the dark crimson seeping into the open collar of his white button-down shirt.
Shocked by the speed of whoever was in the bed, Ikkaku raised his pistol in alarm, pointing it at the mass under the covers. Any sane person would have shot immediately, neutralized the threat and moved on, but Ikkaku didn’t kill without a good fight, and he never claimed to be sane.
“Alright, come out, dipshit!” Ikkaku shouted, his voice an irritated growl. Not prepared to wait, Ikkaku pointed his gun up at the headboard and fired once, a warning shot. “You ruined my last good shirt and I really hate shopping.”
There was slight rustling around under the covers before a head popped up, much to Ikkaku’s surprise. He’d expected a little more hiding than that, not that he was complaining, but it was really the who that surprised him. Ikkaku didn’t find many things pretty, he didn’t care for looks or pay any mind to anyone or anything that he couldn’t get into a good, exhausting fight with. But whoever was in that bed? He was fuckin’ pretty– and deadly, to boot, judging by the way he’d managed to cut Ikkaku while going almost completely undetected.
Hard, steel-gray eyes framed by long bangs glared from the bed, not an ounce of fear reflected in his expression. He was all anger and fury, a stark contrast to his elegant features and delicate frame. His long, black hair was tied back in a perfect braid and it was obvious he was wound tight, ready to strike at a moment's notice.
“Well, are you going to shoot me or are you just going to stare like the rest of them?” The man goaded, his voice a playful lilt that bit like a viper. Ikkaku laughed, keeping his gun aimed at the man in the bed as he slowly started to approach.
“A little full of yourself, ain’t–,” Ikkaku was cut short as the man tried to make a run for it, darting from the bed at the same time he threw the comforter up into the air, shielding himself from Ikkaku’s view for a brief moment. Ikkaku stopped walking and held steady, doing his best to predict the man’s movements, though he didn’t make it very far.
The loud clanking of metal chains echoed in the room, followed by a violent screech as the bed was suddenly yanked a few inches to the right. The man on the bed was now the man on the floor, and the floral-patterned kimono loosely draped over him did nothing to hide the shackle around his ankle.
Ikkaku suddenly felt sick.
“Haha, silly me,” the shackled man cooed from the floor, waving a dismissive hand in the air, “forgot about this in all the excitement!” He shook his ankle for emphasis, making the chains rattle ominously. He let out a dry laugh, a sad, withered sound that left Ikkaku feeling… hollow.
Dropping his arm at his side, Ikkaku lowered his gun and made a bee-line for the bed, his pulse thrumming in his ears. Being a criminal for hire, it wasn’t like Ikkaku was a good guy, and he certainly never claimed to be. He’d done a lot of shit, seen a lot of shit, and caused a lot of easily avoidable problems in the name of a good fight, but part of the reason he swung with Zaraki’s gang, part of why he stuck around, was because they didn’t fuck around in shit like this.
For the first time, real, undeniable fear flashed across the other man’s face. He cowered, just slightly, as Ikkaku neared, a knowing look in his eye that had Ikkaku feeling sick all over again. He didn’t hesitate as he grabbed at the chains near the bedpost and pressed the silencer of his gun up against the padlock that attached the shackles to the bed, sending a bullet clean through the metal. He dropped the now-detached chains to the floor with a loud clatter, feeling filthy for even touching the damn things.
“... Is this a joke?” Came the man’s sultry voice, albeit bitter and incredulous. “Please don’t tell me you like to play with your food first. I’d like to die as I was born, thank you–”
“What’s your name?” Ikkaku asked, cutting off the other’s rambling. He crouched down so he was at eye-level with what he now saw were brilliantly violet eyes, elbows resting on his knees. He let his gun dangle from his fingertips between his legs, no longer posing a threat but still at the ready.
“I hardly see how that’s relevant at this point,” came the sassy reply, accompanied by an eye roll that had Ikkaku somewhere between pissed-off and intrigued.
“Just… tell me your name, before I lose my patience,” Ikkaku gritted out between clenched teeth, brow twitching with barely concealed frustration.
The other man eyed him suspiciously for a moment, drawing his legs closer to his body now that he was no longer chained to the bed. He glanced between Ikkaku’s gun and his tight expression, weighing his options.
“Ayasegawa Yumichika,” he finally relented, voice quiet all of the sudden. Yumichika cast his gaze down between them, his hardened look of defiance melting into something sullen as he fixated on a spot on the floor.
“Yumichika, huh?” Ikkaku said casually, tilting his head to the right in thought. That fiery gaze snapped back up at him like a whiplash, obviously not keen with Ikkaku’s brazen familiarity.
“Did I stutter?” Yumichika spit back, bringing a grin to Ikkaku’s face. “And what’s so funny? Did you catch a glimpse of your reflection, dear?”
”Tch!” Ikkaku went rigid as he was so blatantly insulted, eyes narrowing to threatening slits. ”Excuse me?” Ikkaku’s voice was seething, though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying Yumichika’s attitude, so bold in the face of danger.
“So you’re bald and hard of hearing?” Yumichika didn’t get any further as his jaw was snatched up in a gloved hand, silencing him instantly.
“First of all!” Ikkaku began as he pulled them both to their feet, Yumichika’s hands coming to wrap around his thick wrist as his eyes grew wide. “I am not bald. Second! This is a pretty shit way of thanking me for, you know, setting you free.”
Yumichika stared at him for a few, drawn-out beats of silence, his eyes wide and confused. Then, a sly smirk stretched across his lips, eyes narrowing playfully.
“... So you are hard of hearing, then?”
Belatedly, Ikkaku took stock of the way one of Yumichika’s hands had started trailing up his arm, graceful fingertips dancing along the rigid, defined lines of Ikkaku’s muscles. Like he’d been burned, Ikkaku snatched his hand away and let go of Yumichika’s jaw, taking a step back to put some distance between them. For a moment, there was a look of trepidation in Yumichika’s eyes, frustrated and afraid that what must have been his usual trump card hadn’t worked.
“Ah,” Yumichika muttered, defeated, “you’re not interested in men, I take it? Well, that’s unfortunate for me. There go my bargaining chips out the window!” Yumichika raised his hands as if he were throwing the theoretical bargaining chips out onto the balcony, and Ikkaku could only grimace at Yumichika’s flippant attitude towards the subject.
“Listen,” Yumichika said with a sudden desperation, taking that step to close the gap Ikkaku had created between them. The chains still attached to his ankle rattled as he moved, his hands coming up to grip the open collar of Ikkaku’s shirt. He yanked him in even closer, that hard, prickly exterior crumbling down as he gazed into Ikkaku’s eyes.
“I don’t know who you work for or what you’re going to do to me, but–”
“Relax,” Ikkaku barked in Yumichika’s face, cutting his plea short, “we don’t deal in that sort of business.”
“Huh?” Yumichika looked genuinely lost, face falling into a vacant, confused stare.
Ikkaku tucked his gun into the back of his pants and grabbed hold of each of Yumichika’s wrists, gently removing his hold on his shirt. Yumichika went easily with Ikkaku’s guidance, a half-step back rattling those damned chains again. Ikkaku grit his teeth against the sound, making a mental note to check around for a key before he left.
“The… organization I work for. We don’t do that kind of business.”
“You can just say gang,” Yumichika retorted with a roll of his eyes as he flicked his wrists out of Ikkaku’s hold, “and what do you mean you don’t do ‘that kind of business’?” Yumichika used air quotes around the vague term, giving Ikkaku a suspicious look.
“Are you asking what ‘that kind of business’ is? Or are you just dense?” Ikkaku could feel his eye twitching again, hot temper simmering.
A swift backhand to the cheek had Ikkaku standing ramrod-straight, eyes blowing wide as saucers. He was so stunned he could hardly react, slowly raising a hand to cover the spot Yumichika had slapped as he stared headlong into a dagger-like glare.
“Enough,” Yumichika declared, “I won’t be jerked around anymore. What are you planning on doing with me?” His question was firm and final, and once again Ikkaku was left stunned, unsure when Yumichika’s little game of hurling insults turned into Ikkaku jerking him around.
Ikkaku tenderly rubbed at the sore spot on his cheek as he weighed the options, as he considered why he was still entertaining this man instead of sending him on his way. Something told him Yumichika had nowhere to go; no one to look for him, no one to run to. People with a life on the other side, they carried more fear, more hope. Ikkaku had no idea how Yumichika ended up where he had, but he knew he had nowhere to go, and Ikkaku was in no spot to judge.
“Can you clean?” Ikkaku asked as he glanced around the room before bringing his gaze back just in time to catch the curious, elegant arch of Yumichika’s brow.
“Depends on what you mean by clean.”
Ikkaku rolled his eyes dramatically at the answer, a frustrated growl escaping his lips; but yeah, he was the one jerking Yumichika around.
“I’ll strike you a deal,” Ikkaku said as he came to a conclusion, a solution that worked in everybody’s favor. “Help me clean up this mess,” Ikkaku paused to twirl a finger in the air, gesturing to the room, “and I’ll secure you a spot in my gang. Whadda’ya say?”
Yumichika was tentative, eyeing Ikkaku like he was waiting for the big ‘gotcha!’. He couldn’t really blame him, it was an odd scenario, but Ikkaku really didn’t want to clean all this shit up on his own and, well… the truth was, he’d seen shit like this too many times. He’d seen too many people like Yumichika, cast aside to be swallowed up by the next big beast or left to die. Zaraki didn’t usually tolerate anyone who wasn’t useful, but it had been obvious Yumichika had real, deadly skill; Ikkaku would just have to do some convincing.
“None of… ‘that kind of business’?” Yumichika asked almost sheepishly as he glanced around at the damage done to the room.
“Nope,” Ikkaku said with confidence, holding out a hand for Yumichika to shake, “we got a deal?”
Yumichika was hesitant, and the look on his face could only be described as ‘stank’, but he slowly took Ikkaku’s gloved hand into his own, shaking on the deal.
“Alright, first thing’s first,” Ikkaku snapped his fingers and pointed to the dead guy on the rug, “this guy. Help me roll ‘em up.”
Ikkaku marched over to the rug with Yumichika in tow, grabbing onto the dead man’s ankles so he could shuffle him around until he was lying parallel to the fringed edge of the rug. Once positioned, he waved the other man over, instructing him to crouch and push as they rolled the man up in the carpet.
“You didn’t tell me your name,” Yumichika said as they stood up from the task, a small frown on his lips as he observed the blood that had gotten on his hands, “don’t I deserve to know the name of the man who saved me?”
“A bit early to be saying I saved you, don’t you think?” Ikkaku replied offhandedly, grunting as he hoisted the bloody carpet roll onto his shoulder. He lugged it over to the balcony, dropping it down next to the lifeless bodyguard still hanging out. When he turned around to head back inside, Yumichika was right there, so close Ikkaku could feel the warmth radiating off of his body.
There it was again; that thought, that feeling. Ikkaku couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought someone was pretty, but Yumichika was, enough so that Ikkaku didn’t even consider how easily the other man had snuck up behind him just then, or how a misstep like that could have ended his life.
“True,” Yumichika relented, a sparkle in his eye, “but I’d like something to call you by. Unless, of course, you’re alright with Cue Ball.” Yumichika’s lips curled up into a devilish smirk, a taunt, a tease.
“If you want to keep that pretty little head of yours, I suggest not that,” Ikkaku growled as he brushed past a giggling Yumichika, bumping shoulders with the other man.
“So you do think I’m pretty!” Yumichika exclaimed, a gleeful tone to his voice. “I knew it, nobody is immune to someone as beautiful as me.” Yumichika batted his eyelashes and flicked his hair over his shoulder, still trailing after Ikkaku awaiting orders.
“Jeeze, you always this cocky?” Ikkaku huffed, starting to make his way around the room checking drawers.
“Why wouldn’t I be? You have seen me, haven’t you?” Yumichika gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his mouth in mock-surprise. “Are you blind, too?”
Ikkaku whipped around to glare at the other man, eye twitching while Yumichika just giggled from behind his hand.
“You’re fun,” Yumichika said with a sudden genuineness that Ikkaku was caught off guard. He had lowered his hand to instead smile at Ikkaku, a real, thankful smile, one that reached his eyes in a soft, subtle way.
“Yeah, whatever,” Ikkaku grumbled as he went back to checking drawers, pleased when he finally found what he was looking for inside a desk, “c’mere.” Ikkaku motioned for Yumichika to sit in the desk chair he righted, dangling the ring of keys he’d found in the air.
Yumichika hurried over without hesitation, gliding elegantly into the chair and holding his leg out in one fluid motion. Ikkaku wasn’t sure what had possessed him to do what he did next; maybe it was Yumichika’s expectant behavior, the way he sat like a princess waiting for his glass slipper, or maybe Ikkaku was just whipped, wrapped up in the beautiful mess that was Yumichika. Regardless of the reason, Ikkaku found himself rounding the chair to kneel in front of the other man, his hands uncharacteristically gentle for a killer as they cradled Yumichika’s ankle.
A soft, nearly inaudible gasp escaped Yumichika’s lips at the touch, and upon closer inspection, Ikkaku could see where the metal had bit into his skin. The flesh was rubbed raw, red and irritated and flecked with scabs, a testament to the length of time he must have been wearing it. Cautiously, Ikkaku ran his thumb over the tender skin, a name on his lips.
“Hozukimaru,” Ikkaku muttered as he slid the key into place, unlocking the cuff from his ankle. It fell to the floor with a clatter, but Ikkaku didn’t release Yumichika’s warm flesh. “You can call me Hozukimaru.” It was his alias, the one he used over phone lines and in underground chat forums, and a safe namesake to take on with Yumichika for now.
Cool, manicured toes pressed against Ikkaku’s forehead, tilting his head back so he was forced to look up at the other man; Yumichika’s eyes were narrow slits again, an unspoken threat.
“Don’t you dare pity me,” Yumichika spat as a warm, summer night breeze blew in through the open French doors, rustling his kimono and hair in an ethereal way, “and I know that stupid name is fake.” Yumichika used the leverage on Ikkaku’s forehead to push him back, breaking his gentle hold around Yumichika’s other leg as he fell back onto his ass.
“Well, it’s what you’re getting!” Ikkaku shouted as he rushed to stand up, brushing off his clothes. He pocketed the keyring just in case it might prove useful elsewhere, glaring down at Yumichika. “And I don’t waste my time with shit like pity.”
With that, he turned his back on Yumichika not for the first time that night, marching over to the last mess he had to clean up before they could get the hell out of dodge. This one he wrapped up in a sheet, with absolutely no help from Yumichika, the other man still perched on his desk chair as he alternated between inspecting his fingernails and watching Ikkaku work.
“Hozukimaru, huh?” Yumichika sing-songed just as Ikkaku was just about to step over the threshold to the balcony, distracting him enough that he stepped on a loose tendril of sheets and tripped over himself, stumbling a bit before he practically tossed the mass in his arms to join the rest.
Ikkaku bent over with his hand on his knees, panting from the physical exertion.
“Weren’t you supposed to help me?” He grumbled, glaring at Yumichika out of the corner of his eye.
“I like the sound of it,” Yumichika commented, ignoring Ikkaku’s accusatory question, “it means ‘demon light’, right? I think it suits you.”
Ikkaku stood up straight as he met Yumichika’s gaze across the distance. He was twisted around in the desk chair, his arms draped over the back and his legs crossed, eyes trained on Ikkaku like the mischievous gaze of a cat hunting a mouse.
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Ikkaku asked gruffly despite the warmth at the back of his neck, refusing to allow Yumichika’s silver tongue to get the best of him.
“Up to you!” Yumichika cooed innocently as he turned back around, bending at the waist to observe his injured ankle.
With no further help from Yumichika, Ikkaku got the place cleaned up enough, deciding he’d just deal with Zaraki’s shit if it came down to it. By the time he was done, however, Yumichika was lying in the chair at an odd angle, head tipped back and legs stretched out as he let out a long-suffering sigh.
“Are we done here yet?” Yumichika complained, grinning from ear-to-ear when Ikkaku came into view, towering over him with his arms crossed. His ear had finally stopped bleeding but his shirt was a mess, the collar more red than white by that point.
“I’m done, not sure about you though,” Ikkaku growled, only for Yumichika to sit up excitedly and clap his hands together once.
“How convenient, me too!” Yumichika stood up and spun to face Ikkaku, hooking their arms together like they were about to go for a walk in the park. “Where to next, Hozukimaru?”
Exhausted from– everything, Ikkaku could only roll his eyes and make his way to the door, allowing Yumichika to stay latched onto him as he led the way. He rolled his neck, considered the reality, and opened the bedroom door for them.
“You ever heard of Zaraki?”