Ruri'iro Kujaku had just about enough.

He was sick and tired of throwing a tantrum, sick and tired of throwing a tantrum on demand, sick and tired of throwing a tantrum just because Yumichika demanded it.

Enough. Enough of all this nonsense, all this absolute rubbish about hiding his true nature and concealing himself from the world.

He was done with this stupid, stupid arrangement, and he was going to jolly well make sure Yumichika knew that.

Now, he just needed to see that idiot shinigami to tell him that.

Sitting cross-legged on a large boulder in the middle of nowhere, (not really nowhere, but nowhere that mattered, anyway), Ayasegawa Yumichika placed his zanpakuto on his lap, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly.

"Sakikurue, Ruri'iro Kujaku," the intonation came.

Yumichika looked incredulously down at the single blade of his should-have-been-released shikai.

The metal glinted back at him in the dimming evening light, the way it caught the light almost mocking him.

Kujaku had never voluntarily refused to release in his original form when given the appropriate chance, not since Yumi had first manifested the zanpakuto, not since they had first met.

Perhaps he had not enunciated clearly enough, Yumi mused. (Deep down inside his consciousness, he knew he had, though. This was merely an excuse to do what he was about to do.)

Perhaps repeating himself would be a better idea.

"Sakikure, Ruri'iro Kujaku," he called sharply, eyes now open but narrowed at the single naked blade sitting on his lap.

Nothing shimmered, nothing shone, nothing even twitched. There was no falx, no split blades, no kidou vines, nothing.

The single blade shook gently, making sure to nick his right calf just-so-slightly before settling down in his lap.

Yumi's eyes widened in shock.

The blade hummed innocently.

He could not believe this. Shinigami did not get cut by their own zanpakuto. Not now, not ever. To get hurt by one's own zanpakuto was the starkest demonstration of one's sheer inability to control not only one's blade, but one's very soul.

It was the best show of a shinigami's absolute incapability.

And there was no way in heck Ayasegawa Yumichika was even the slightest incapable.

He was not going to accept this, he was not going to take this sitting down. No friggin' way.

Yumi gritted his teeth angrily, successfully resisted the urge to strip the tsuka-ito off Ruri-iro Kujaku, took in a deep breath, closed his eyes.

And dived right into his inner world.

He had not been there in too many years, he almost got lost.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here."

It was that dratted voice, Yumi noted with a dash of annoyance as he huffed on purpose and sat down a little heavier than he needed to.

There was no reaction, and the wind still blew through the trees.

He sighed slightly, leaning back to lie down on the grass under the shade of the largest tree. A finger tugged at a nearby green stalk as a wry smile came to his face.

"What do you want, Kujaku?"

"Excuse me? Please refrain from addressing me as such."

Yumi heard him huff, and could not quite keep the smile off his face.

"I am no ordinary peacock, please do attempt to get my name correct occasionally. It's Ruri'iro Kujaku."

Ruri'iro Kujaku sniffed, appearing with a whirl of lapis lazuli flowers from behind a tree.

He stepped forward until he cast a shadow over Yumichika's face. "And what are you doing here?" Ruri'iro Kujaku's chin raised and he looked down at his wielder from around the corner of his eyes.

"As far as I was aware, this is my inner world," Yumi's smile disappeared, replaced with a look that was best described as apathetic disdain.

"Well, you sure haven't been a decent landlord," Ruri'iro Kujaku glared at Yumichika.

Yumichika glared back, annoyed.

"Let's see about that."

"No, you'll see about that!"

Not giving Yumichika a single moment to butt in, Ruri'iro Kujaku began, eyes flashing a furious lavender-almost-wisteria. He reached a trembling hand down towards Yumichika.

"Firstly, you don't ever turn up."

Yumi blinked.

Ruri'iro Kujaku's index finger extended, jabbing towards Yumichika with every emphasized syllable.

"Secondly, you repeatedly insult me."

The corner of his mouth twitched up in what was almost a sneer.

"Thirdly, you have the gall to demand that I twist myself to your every whim and fancy. Oh, Fuji Kujaku, Oh Ruri'iro Kujaku, Oh I don't need you."

He sniffed very loudly, turning his head away, jaw set in anger.

"Fourthly, said whim and fancy goes completely against not only my aesthetic, but yours as well."

He turned slowly to face Yumichika again, this time obviously trembling in anger.

"Fifthly, you get yourself beat up as hell by fighting with just a naked blade."

The look on his face was that of tightly controlled rage.

"Sixthly, you dare say you're trying for bankai when you don't even utilize shikai properly."

"And lastly, you let the whole friggin' world trample over you because you're just a fight-loving member of Squad Eleven but there's nothing that they can see that backs it up!"

His voice was raised now, the raw emotion behind it so cutting. Yumi inhaled sharply, the retort on the tip of his tongue.

Ruri'iro Kujaku paused to draw a breath, and Yumi was about to cut in furiously, but the simply electrifying (despairing) look in Ruri'iro's eyes made him pause and stare in shock at his zanpakuto spirit.

A single trembling word, exhaled shakily as Ruri'iro Kujaku slowly turned away, the disappointment hidden deep beneath layers of lavender-almost-wisteria.

The wind whistled through the few trees, the leaves rustling in the wind.

Yumi barely heard the next sentence.

"Why?"

The words of 'do I really disgust you that much?' lay hanging in the air, silent, unspoken.

They stayed there, zanpakuto and wielder, two more-than-halves of a whole staying perfectly still, locked in each other's image.

Ruri'iro turned slowly back, eyes the last part to face Yumichika. The flash of pain and betrayal passing so quickly Yumi almost missed it. The zanpakuto spirit's jaw clenched before he turned his head to look at a faraway tree before slowly beginning to walk away.

"I don't know."

Ruri'iro's head snapped back to look at Yumichika who was now leaning against the tree, playing with a lapis-lazuli flower, a conflicted look on his face.

His voice raised again as he looked back at his wielder in shock, a look of sheer disbelief coming over his face. "What do you mean you don't know? You don't know why you've been doing all this all these many years? You don't know why you've been doing this to yourself? You don't know why you've been doing this to me?"

He choked, face twisting into what looked like a bitter grimace. "You can't not know! You just can't! How can you say this? What do you even mean by you don't know? What's there not to know about it? You just want to protect yourself! You just want to secure that spot in that damned squad of yours so that you can live out your life in bliss and happiness! You're a selfish bastard! And that's what you want to be for the rest of your life, but newsflash, genius, that isn't going to happen! I-I…"

He stopped suddenly, the tension draining out of him instantly.

"I won't allow it."

There were no tears running down Ruri'iro's face, but for a moment, Yumi could almost see them there.

Truthfully, he would have been touched, he would have been moved, but now, right now, he was trembling with barely suppressed anger. He opened his mouth to speak, to yell, to cry something, to defend himself and his actions, and all the things he had done.

"You've obviously had enough of me, Yumichika," Ruri'iro cut into his thoughts with his soft words, "And now, I have had enough of you. Perhaps you're furious, perhaps you can't be bothered to solve this all. Perhaps you've even been torturing yourself about it in the dark. But you know what?"

He smiled, a wry smile, "I don't care anymore."

"Goodbye, Yumichika."

He stepped into the small grove of trees, and Yumi watched him take the first ten steps silently, hands trembling slightly.

"Wait."

Ruri'iro paused in mid-step. He slowly turned, "What is it now, my darling shinigami," he drawled, the drawl Yumi recognized as the one he used to deal with people he couldn't stand. (That hurt, rather unexpectedly.)

"You have something to say?" The zanpakuto spirit raised an unimpressed eyebrow before snorting, "Lost for words now, eh? At least you won't say Fuji Kujaku ever again."

There was a stunted silence that neither seemed able to cut. Yumi's right hand trembled, and Ruri'iro's left shook. Neither moved until Yumi took in a deep breath.

"There's nothing I can say that can make this better, is there?"

Ruri'iro's other eyebrow raised as he looked back at Yumi, a look of crazed laughter-almost-disbelief on his face.

"Of course there is, idiot."

For the first time since he had stepped into his inner world, Ruri'iro's eyes were sparkling clear, Yumi noticed.

The slight, wistful smile returned to Ruri'iro Kujaku's face. "Say it only if you mean it, Yumi."

Ayasegawa Yumichika returned the smile with a small, cracked one of equal sincerity before slowly ducking his head to the ground.

When he looked up again, his eyes sparkled with determination, and Ruri'iro Kujaku was gone.

His smile widened.

"Sakikurue, Ruri'iro Kujaku."

The western sky exploded in a brilliant flash of lapis-lazuli flowers.

"'Bout time."

Madarame Ikkaku rolled his eyes, smiling.

Happy Birthday, Del! :D