Hokie Dokie! Well this is my first attempt at Ikkaku/Yumichika, so please be kind. I would really like to do some more of this pair, so constructive critisim about how they could better be in character would be greatly appreciated! ^^ It makes me laugh to think that this was intended to just be the meeting between the two, and it actually turned into a Yumichika appreciation session. That doesnt mean you should leave though! *reaches out desperately*

As always, the review button loves you secretly and needs you to return some of that love by clicking it. But seriously...reviews make me very very happy. ^^

Madarame Ikkaku winced as a bandage was wrapped tightly around his arm. "Che. This reminds me of the first time we met, eh? Yumichika?" When Yumichika didn't reply, instead beginning to bandage the deep gash on Ikkaku's shoulder Ikkaku frowned, his mouth turning down in displeasure "You do remember it don't you?"

"Of course." Came the soft reply as Yumichika stood back and regarded his work, indulging in this habit of brushing his hair away from his face and holding it in place. Something which Ikkaku had soon noticed he did when he was pleased, as opposed to the thumb biting he did when worried. Eventually he nodded "You're done"

"Hmm" Ikkaku moved to the side to make room for Yumichika, who sat down, the springs in the bed shifting at the extra weight. He flashed a brief grin "I half expect you to put down a bowl of rice now"

A slight smile touched Yumichika's lips but he didn't reply, instead he occupying himself with the straps on his sword. Ikkaku snorted slightly and rested his elbows on his knees, his mind going back to their first meeting. Before the Gotei 13, before Kenpachi, before their friendship. That was an odd thought, it seemed like they had been (albeit unlikely) friends forever. Yumichika had always followed him around, he had always stolen all the best fights, even though the two of them were probably equally matched.

How had it started? A fight. It always started with a fight. He had been outnumbered, nothing new there, but he had lost and then it had gone dark until…

Ikkaku opened his eyes slowly. His head hurt and he felt nauseous, like someone had a huge hammer and was pounding his head and stomach simultaneously. The small lines of light filtering in through the small window hurt his eyes too. With still blurry vision he looked around the unfamiliar room. It was small, sparse. A bed, a chair and table…and an occupant. He narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see the person against the wall more clearly. A woman? It certainly looked like a woman, with long hair and a brightly coloured floral clothing, but rather shapeless. Well, he concluded, some people are just unlucky.

He grunted as he moved slightly and a wave of dizziness washed over him. The figure came closer "You should stay still." The voice was high, but not a woman's, and as his vision cleared Ikkaku could see, rather to his mortification, that he had been mistaken. His host was a man. Effeminate, and blessed (or cursed, considering Ikkaku's incorrect judgement of his gender) with features that some women would kill for: Silky black hair and high, well defined cheekbones. A striking pair of violet eyes, arrogant and slightly smug, that told everyone they focused on in no uncertain terms that they were better than you in every way. But, in spite of this, he was still a man. Ikkaku felt a childish flash of jealousy that this man had such nice hair, despite its rough cut, while he had none at all.

The man moved closer and looked down at him. "When you can move, there's water in the next room" he paused for a moment, as if expecting Ikkaku to respond before adding "To clean yourself."

Ikkaku blanched. Clean himself? Why would he want to clean himself? Before he could voice his objections the man began to move away. "H-hey!" he called, his voice slightly hoarse from a vaguely remembered elbow in the throat, but was ignored. With a growl he reached out and grabbed the end of the man's long ponytail, yanking it so hard that the pretty head it was attached to was pulled back sharply and he almost lost his balance. He rounded on Ikkaku sharply "Why did you do that?" the man felt his hair carefully. "How rude! How…ungrateful! I take the time and effort to help you and all you can do is…is…" he trailed off.

"You were ignoring me" Ikkaku grumbled. "You're the freaking rude one." A frown marred the others face, but he was silent, which Ikkaku took as encouragement to continue. "Who are you, and why did you help me?" He gingerly sat up, testing to see if the nausea and dizziness were waiting to jump him. They weren't.

The mysterious, and it was beginning to dawn on Ikkaku, quite vain man pulled the clip out of his hair and began to comb it with his fingers, pulling out the tangles and rucks caused by Ikkaku's forthright attempt to get his attention. "You have quite a beautiful fighting style" he commented eventually, his purple eyes locking onto Ikkaku's with a quiet intensity.

Ikkaku felt his jaw slacken. What was that supposed to mean? "Beauty's got nothing to do with it. It's just fighting."

The dark haired man's eyes widened. "Beauty has everything to do with it, why would you choose to do something that wasn't beautiful?"

Almost instinctively Ikkaku could see that if he got into this he would be there for hours, so instead he grudgingly muttered "Madarame Ikkaku"

The other looked taken aback "What?"

"Name. My name. What's yours?"

The man smiled slightly and touched his forehead. "Ayasegawa Yumichika"

Hands behind his head, Ikkaku leaned back. "Heh. Well Yumichika. Pleased to meet ya. And…thank you I guess."

Yumichika laughed quietly and crossed his arms, his eyes closed. "It's nothing. It would be a shame to lose a good fighter in such an ugly way."

Thinking back, he didn't even manage to escape the bath. The next day Yumichika had poured a bucket of water over his head. Cold water. He had used the excuse that Ikkaku was snoring loudly and it was irritating, but it didn't take a genius to work out that it was his way of getting back at Ikkaku for pulling his hair. Despite his sometime childishness and rather annoying insistence that he keep overly clean Ikkaku couldn't help but feel that he has gained something though.

A friend certainly, for in the time it had taken for him to recover from his wounds they had struck up a, wary at first, but soon comfortable, friendship. But there was something else.

Certainty.

For once he could say that there was somewhere he could return to, somewhere he was welcome even. He was no longer a wanderer. He could go back to Yumichika, and he would patch up his wounds if he needed it and feed him, and relay any information about fighters or interesting events that Ikkaku might have missed by traveling, and all on the simple condition that Ikkaku allow him to watch his fights.

Ikkaku also had a sneaking suspicion that Yumichika didn't have many companions. He soon discovered that the smaller man was incredibly vain and self obsessed, and rather abrasive in many resects. He was especially fond of provoking "ugly" people, hurling insults at them until they tried to hit him. He wasn't a bad fighter either, but his style was very different from Ikkaku's, and his reasons for fighting. Ikkaku fought for the pure adrenaline rush he got from the experience, and the pleasure of seeing someone beaten. Yumichika fought to see the indecision and fear on his opponents face as they realized that he was winning. It was a little cruel, like a cat playing with a mouse. He even stood a little like a feline, especially when angry, with his sword held low and his back arched slightly.

It didn't mean, though, that if the going got tough the pretty-boy wasn't willing to fight dirty. Ikkaku would never forget his shock at seeing Yumichika knock someone out with a solid headbutt in a bar brawl. Ikkaku had felt quite relieved that, firstly he was on his side in that fight, and, secondly, that afterwards he had mourned over his clothes, which had been ripped, and his bruised forehead. It was nice to know that some things stay the same. Yumichika didn't indulge in fighting often though, as it got his clothes grubby, and if there was one thing he couldn't stand (and Ikkaku learned this the hard way) it was untidiness.

However, despite their many differences Yumichika seemed to understand Ikkaku well. He never interfered with Ikkaku's fights, not even if Ikkaku was losing. He would just pick him put and put him back together when he had finished. He was also one of the few people who didn't make bad jokes about Ikkaku's bare head, which raised him immensely in the short tempered fighter's opinion.

Ikkaku nodded. Yes. That fight had bought him an invaluable companion. A friend who would follow anywhere if asked, and kinder than he let show underneath his arrogant and superficial exterior. Ikkaku was glad he had lost that fight.

"This is unlike you" Yumichika's voice pulled him back to the present. "Dwelling on the past. One might think you're starting to feel your age."

"What age? You'd better be careful what you say." Ikkaku flashed a grin and stood, testing his arm. It was well bandaged, as expected of a perfectionist like Yumichika. "C'mon, let's go."

Yumichika nodded and stood, tucking his sword into his belt. "Right."

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