Author's Note:

I love the dynamic between Yumichika and Ikkaku, but it's not exactly very healthy at times. Please don't take this story as an example of good conflict resolution! I hope you like it, though; this is the first time I've written with these two as the protagonists.

This story can be read as a companion to my story Dreams in the Dark, but can also be read as a standalone tale.

Of Petals and Peacock Feathers

The halls of the Fourth division were perpetually hushed and peaceful, with white walls and tiled floors to promote serenity. Kido wards damped the sounds of suffering and erased the smells of antiseptic and illness from the air. Those who disturbed the peace had to deal with Captain Unohana, whose calm smile could strike fear in the hearts of battle-hardened warriors without her saying a word. No one crossed Captain Unohana – not even Captain Zaraki.

No one wanted to annoy Zaraki, either, so none of his men even thought about disobeying Captain Unohana.

However, even Zaraki's mandates couldn't stop Ikkaku's fury this time. The burly soul reaper stalked through the halls with a face like a thundercloud, snarling at every Fourth division member who got in his way. "Where is Yumichika?" he demanded, grabbing one hapless girl after spending a fruitless fifteen minutes searching.

The girl squeaked, staring up at him with a petrified expression. Ikkaku growled in frustration, shoving her aside. "Anyone know where Yumichika is?" he asked hotly, glaring at the young men and women hurrying along the corridor. "Anyone?"

"Madarame-san, you should be in bed," a gentle voice admonished.

Ikkaku froze, then slowly turned around. Captain Unohana stood behind him, hands folded in the sleeves of her haori. "Unohana-taicho, where is Yumichika?" he asked, marginally more politely.

Unohana ignored the anger simmering beneath his tone. "Ayasegawa-san is not ready to receive visitors," she informed him. "Please, return to your room. You may see him when he's better."

Ikkaku's reiatsu writhed around him like an inferno, scorching the air and forcing the nearby healers backwards. Unohana raised an eyebrow at the violent display. Chastened, Ikkaku pulled the energy back under his skin, glaring at the onlookers as if daring them to comment. "Please, Unohana-taicho, where is he?"

A lilting laugh came from around the corner. Yumichika strolled into view, one hand resting nonchalantly on his hip. "Why, Ikkaku, I never thought I'd hear you beg. That's not very beautiful." He favored the muscular soul reaper with a sly smile. Ikkaku's hands clenched into fists.

Unohana turned to him, eying him sternly. "Ayasegawa-san, what are you doing out of bed?"

Ikkaku interrupted before Yumichika could answer. "What the hell did you do to me?" he roared, advancing on the slender shinigami.

Yumichika tilted his head to one side. "I don't know what you're talking about," he responded arrogantly. Smoothing down the feathers at the corner of his eye, he turned away. "Unohana-taicho, I apologize for this ugliness."

Ikkaku grabbed Yumichika's orange neckpiece in both hands. "I got a message from Kurotsuchi asking to 'study the effects of the zanpakuto reiatsu transfusion' that apparently you did," he snarled in Yumichika's face. "Then he showed me a picture of your shikai." Ikkaku shoved Yumichika away, wiping his hands roughly on his hakama as if he was disgusted by Yumichika's presence. "What the hell is that?"

Yumichika paled, losing the façade of health that had covered his ashen skin. He stumbled backwards, staring at Ikkaku in shock. "Damn it," he muttered subvocally. Then he straightened. "Ikkaku, dear, you don't know what you're talking about," he explained condescendingly.

Ikkaku took an aggressive step forward. "That looked like a damn kido blade to me," he challenged, bitterness permeating his tone. He reached out to grab Yumichika again.

"That's enough," Unohana interrupted sternly. She caught Ikkaku's wrist in a firm grasp, preventing him from moving. He glanced at her sheepishly. "Madarame-san, this is unacceptable behavior in a place of healing. Please return to your room immediately." Her tone brooked no disagreement.

"Sorry, Captain," Ikkaku muttered. When she released his wrist, he balled his hands into fists at his sides. "Damn it, Yumi, Kurotsuchi had better have been lying," he spat angrily.

Yumichika sighed. "Come with me, Ikkaku," he ordered in a bored tone. "Let's leave Unohana-taicho to her business."

The shinigami in question shook her head in resignation. "If you two insist on being foolish, I won't stop you, but I don't want to see any new injuries on either one of you, understand?"

Yumichika bowed his head politely. "Of course, taicho," he replied. Then he looked at Ikkaku. "Let's go." Without waiting for a response, he leapt into shunpo, leaving Unohana looking after him disapprovingly.

Ikkaku followed his lover over the roofs of the Seireitei as he'd done so many times before, stewing over the picture that Kurotsuchi had shown him. Yumi, you'd better have a good explanation, he growled mentally. Why did Kurotsuchi say you have a kido blade? You know that using kido is a weak and cowardly way of fighting! The anger churned within his gut as he wondered if his partner had been cheating in every fight he'd been in.

Yumichika led the way to a small copse of trees outside the city, where they often went when they wanted privacy. The old oak trees towered over long grass and scattered wildflowers, shielding the grove from prying eyes and ears. Yumichika landed in the center of the glade and pretended to study the view as Ikkaku dropped to the ground beside him. Ikkaku glared at him hotly, but the slender shinigami feigned indifference.

After a minute of awkward silence, Ikkaku burst out, "What the hell, Yumi? Why's Kurotsuchi saying you have a kido zanpakuto?"

Yumichika shrugged nonchalantly. "Because it's true."

Ikkaku grabbed his shoulders and spun him around. "Not going to deny it?" he bit out harshly.

The vain shinigami shrugged again. "Why should I?" A touch of temper entered his voice as he continued, "I used it to save your life, you know. You wouldn't be pitching such a hissy fit if that hadn't happened."

Ikkaku shoved him roughly. Yumichika moved with the force, allowing it to send him backwards in a graceful glide. Ikkaku lifted a hand, tempted to hit Yumichika again, but lowered it with a snarl. Rather than respond to his lover's accusation – which he privately admitted held a grain of truth – he growled, "So how long have you had it?"

Yumichika stepped forward, hands spread in entreaty. "I wanted to tell you, but I knew Zaraki would kick me out of the squad," he said earnestly, dropping his mask of indifference. He looked down. "I found out the first time I called Ruri'iro Kujaku's name." It had shamed and terrified him, although that had been long before they met Zaraki, for Ikkaku had despised kido even then. He had been Yumichika's only friend at that point, and Yumichika couldn't bear to lose that friendship. So he had buried his power so deeply inside him, he almost had almost forgotten Ruri'iro Kujaku's true name.

Ikkaku rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever." He turned his back on Yumichika, staring into the distance. "That doesn't change the fact that it's a damn kido blade. Fuck, Yumi, kido? It's weak and cowardly! No real warrior uses it!" No real warrior would rely on something so craven.

"Cowardly?" Yumichika asked softly, head tilted to one side. "Really?" His voice was gentle, almost amused, though only a fool would have mistaken that for happiness. In the face of Ikkaku's accusation, all his masks had snapped back into place.

Ikkaku spun in his heel and threw a furious glare at the effeminate shinigami. "Damn it, Yumi! Kido is cheating, it's weak, it's dishonorable! There's a reason why it's forbidden in the Eleventh!" He ignored the hurt underneath Yumichika's haughty, distant tone, too angry to care.

"Oh?" Yumichika bit out in a voice like ice. "So are you saying I'm not a real warrior?"

Ikkaku folded his arms across his chest. The red tattoos on the corners of his eyes crinkled as he stared coldly at his lover. "Are you? Or have you used that damn blade of yours to succeed?" It was an unfair accusation, and he knew it, but he wanted Yumichika to hurt as much as he did. How could Yumichika have done this to him?

Yumichika's eyes narrowed, and he bared his teeth in a humorless smile. "Shall I show you?" Without waiting for an answer, he ran a hand over his zanpakuto. "Bloom, Fuji Kujaku." The katana split into four vicious scythes, reiatsu rising around the slender soul reaper. Ikkaku's crimson spirit energy swelled in response. "Draw your sword," Yumichika ordered quietly.

Ikkaku, teeth bared, obeyed. "Still using a fake shikai?" he taunted bitterly.

Yumichika flicked his bangs back, favoring Ikkaku with a condescending look. "I don't need my full power for something as ugly as this." Without waiting for an answer, he launched himself at Ikkaku.

The clash of blades filled the clearing as the two powerful shinigami crashed together. Ikkaku, katana in one hand and reinforced sheath in the other, snarled as he fought; Yumichika remained coldly silent. Crimson reiatsu battled with emerald in a brilliant light show. Again and again, Ikkaku launched brutal attacks, only to miss as Yumichika slid easily aside. Fuji Kujaku flicked out over and over to taste Ikkaku's blood, leaving delicate marks on his skin.

Yumichika's violet eyes practically glowed as he pressed Ikkaku backwards. The burly soul reaper refused to give ground, slashing fiercely at Yumichika. Any one of his blows would have crippled the slender shinigami, if they had landed. But Yumichika was never there. "Fight me head-on, damnit!" Ikkaku roared in frustration.

"I thought you said I was a coward?" Yumichika returned icily. "Isn't this what you expected?"

Anger coursed through Ikkaku's veins. "Fine," he growled. "Extend, Hozukimaru!" He clapped his sheath and sword together, and reiatsu boiled around his clenched hands. When the energy cleared, he held a long naginata with a red tassel dangling from the end.

Yumichika smirked. "Better."

With a wordless roar, Ikkaku charged at Yumichika. The slender shinigami sidestepped, lashing out with Fuji Kujaku as Ikkaku hurtled past. Ikkaku caught the blades on his spear, pivoting on the ball of his foot and whipping the spear tip at Yumichika's face. Yumichika arched out of the way, but not quickly enough to avoid a gash on his cheek. Blood dripped slowly down his face as he glared hotly at Ikkaku. Ikkaku laughed cruelly. "That the best you can do? Weak, Yumi, weak."

Yumichika straightened, eyes flaring. "Tear in frenzy, Ruri'iro Kujaku," he whispered. Ikkaku's eyes widened. Emerald and azure vines burst from the blades in Yumichika's hand, shimmering with peacock-bright hues. The strands whipped around Ikkaku's torso, pinning his arms to his sides and throwing him back against a tree. Yumichika paced after him with the deliberate grace of a panther.

"So, does that feel weak to you?" he purred, drawing to a halt just inside Ikkaku's personal space. Any pain he felt was subsumed beneath a cold, sadistic desire to prove his point.

The bald shinigami struggled fruitlessly against his bonds, furious eyes promising violence as soon as he escaped. Yumichika tilted his head to one side. "No answer? That's unlike you, 'Kaku." Ikkaku snapped a rapid front kick at Yumichika, who dodged and pursed his lips. "So ugly," he murmured critically. A wave of his hand sent more vines writhing around Ikkaku, tightening enough to make the bound soul reaper wince.

Yumichika ran a tender finger along Ikkaku's chest, tracing the path of the vines. "You see, this is only the beginning of Ruri'iro Kujaku's power," he murmured. Curling his fingers into claws, he raked down Ikkaku's abdomen, leaving bloody trails behind. Ikkaku hissed between his teeth. "Now that's much more beautiful," Yumichika purred, lifting his head and fastening his glowing eyes on Ikkaku's.

Ikkaku strained against his bonds, ignoring the blood trickling from the numerous cuts decorating his body. "Yumi…" he growled hoarsely.

Yumichika laughed lightly. "Yes?" He dragged his fingers over a slash on Ikkaku's ribs, and the bound soul reaper shivered. Raising his hand to his lips, he licked delicately at the crimson stain. Ikkaku's eyelids fell to half mast. Yumichika hummed, letting his fingers drift up to encircle Ikkaku's neck. "I'll ask you again. Is this weak?"

Ikkaku bared his teeth, snarling. Yumichika's fingers tightened minutely on his throat. "Damn it, Yumi!" Ikkaku growled, glaring at the slender shinigami. Though they had played games of pain and submission many times in the past, this felt terrifyingly real.

Yumichika tsked. "That's not an answer." He stepped closer, until Ikkaku could feel his breath hissing over the cuts on his chest. Clenching his hand roughly, he murmured, "Want to give me a better one?"

Then, before Ikkaku could answer, Yumichika caught his lips in a bruising kiss, one meant to punish rather than arouse.

The muscular soul reaper gasped, the sound muffled by Yumichika's mouth. The taste of iron and sweat mingled with the flux of reiatsu on his skin and the pressure of Yumichika's hand on his windpipe in a heady cocktail of arousal and tension. Yumichika's nails dug into his neck; Ruri'iro Kujaku's vines clamped tightly around his limbs. Sparkles crept across his vision, and he realized that his eyes had fallen shut.

Before the swirling blackness could overwhelm him, Yumichika released his grip. Ikkaku dragged in a shuddering breath, chest heaving. Yumichika's lips brushed over his in a parody of gentleness. Ikkaku's mouth opened, but no sound came out. The vain shinigami studied him, one hand resting softly against his collarbone. The other still held Ruri'iro Kujaku in a loose grip, controlling the rivers of power streaming from the blades. When Yumichika took a step back, those rivers brightened, and flower buds began to form on the vines.

Ikkaku slumped in his bonds, fighting against the curious sensation of blood pouring from an invisible wound. There was no pain, only a steadily increasing weakness that sapped the strength from his limbs. For a warrior who prided himself on his power, the feeling was horrifying. Yumichika watched him dispassionately, silky black hair falling over one eye. Ikkaku growled, raising his head to meet Yumichika's blazing gaze. "What the hell is this?"

Yumichika brushed his bangs aside. "Ruri'iro Kujaku's true power," he said silkily. "Don't you like it?"

Ikkaku glared at him. "Damn it, Yumi, real warriors don't use tricks like this!" His eyes widened as the vines ripped more energy away from him.

Yumichika's lips thinned. He looked away, then back at Ikkaku. "You know, you keep talking about 'real warriors'" he said conversationally. Carefully concealing his hurt behind a casual façade, he continued, "Why do you get to determine what a 'real warrior' is?"

The question made Ikkaku wince. He knew, better than anyone, how hard Yumichika had worked to earn his place in Zaraki's division. The other members had initially scorned a man who flaunted his beauty, but no one doubted him now. When Yumichika gave an order, men leapt to obey. He deserved the rank he held. But the thought of his true shikai turned Ikkaku's stomach. The lying didn't bother him nearly as much; he would have hidden such a power, too. But that power… "Why, Yumi?" he growled. "Kido is worthless and dishonorable, you know that. Why?"

The flamboyant soul reaper laughed bitterly. "You think I chose this? You think I wanted a zanpakuto that relied on kido?" He gestured with the hand that held Ruri'iro Kujaku, and Ikkaku gasped as his bonds tightened. He struggled involuntarily against the kido-wrought web, while Yumichika watched coolly.

When he slumped into the vines, the buds grew larger.

Yumichika tilted his head to one side, eying Ikkaku predatorily. "You didn't answer my question," he reminded Ikkaku softly.

Ikkaku snarled at his lover. "Fucking hell, Yumi, what's the point of this?"

"Wrong answer," Yumichika purred icily. He stepped closer, until Ikkaku could feel the heat of his body on his skin. The tips of Ruri'iro Kujaku's blades scraped across Ikkaku's chest. The muscular shinigami swayed dizzily as yet more energy drained away into the vines. Only the tree behind him kept him upright. Yumichika chuckled cruelly. "You think that kido is weak and cowardly," he murmured in Ikkaku's ear. "Now, it may be cowardly, in your black-and-white worldview, but it's certainly not weak." His hand clamped onto Ikkaku's neck, forcing him against the trunk of the tree. The rough bark scratched his skin through the cuts in his shihakusho. Yumichika's violet eyes locked onto Ikkaku'sb. "Is it?"

Ikkaku bucked against Yumichika's hand, teeth bared. "Fuck you," he ground out. Yumichika's fingers tightened, and Ikkaku gasped. But he refused to give in. "You know I'm right," he taunted breathlessly. "What would Zaraki think if he found out?"

Yumichika's eyes flattened. His hand clenched hard around the hilt of his zanpakuto, turning his knuckles white. "Right now, I don't care," he whispered. Then he reversed his grip and punched Ikkaku in the stomach with his pommel.

The bound soul reaper crumpled. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly as he gulped for air. Yumichika watched him coldly as he hauled himself to his knees, panting. Ruri'iro Kujaku dangled limply from his hand. The vines trailing from the blades still wrapped around Ikkaku's torso, but the fall had freed his legs.

Yumichika seized his collar and hauled him upright, throwing his back against the tree again. "Satisfied?" he hissed. Ruri'iro Kujaku's power flowed in waves, pulsing in time with Yumichika's heartbeat. The anguish that the vain soul reaper successfully hid from his face permeated his reiatsu, a painful mixture of humiliation, worry, and fear of abandonment.

Ikkaku's own reiatsu rose in instinctive response to his partner's distress, and Yumichika hissed. "I don't need your pity!" He raked his nails down Ikkaku's chest, tearing his gi open.

Ikkaku shivered. "Yumi," he murmured.

Yumichika cut him off. "Save it. You've made your point." He spun on his heel, releasing the bald shinigami. "Tell Zaraki, tell the squad, tell the whole damn world for all I care," he spat bitterly. With a wave of his hand, the vines fell away from Ikkaku. As they withered in a coruscating blaze of energy, Ruri'iro Kujaku's four scythes collapsed back into one blade.

"Yumi," Ikkaku repeated softly. His lover ignored him as he walked away. "Yumichika!" Ikkaku yelled, grabbing his partner's shoulders. "Don't you dare walk away," he snarled, an inch away from Yumichika's face.

Yumichika shrugged out of his hold and glared at him hotly. "Why do you care?" He raised an eyebrow, drawing his usual arrogant façade back around himself. "That's not a very beautiful attitude, you know."

Ikkaku growled at the resurgence of his lover's haughty mien. Yumichika always did this when he wanted to avoid a painful subject, and right now Ikkaku couldn't stand it. "Stop it, Yumi," he demanded.

The elegant shinigami smoothed down the feathers at the corner of his eye. "If that's all you have to say, I'm leaving," he informed Ikkaku condescendingly. He turned to go, and Ikkaku, irritated, grabbed him again. Yumichika turned back around slowly, one eyebrow lifted superciliously. "Really?" he asked softly.

Ikkaku didn't let go.

In one swift move, Yumichika swept Ikkaku's legs out from under him, dumping him onto his back. The slender soul reaper followed him down and straddled his hips, both hands gripping Ikkaku's shoulders fiercely. "Why can't you give up?" he demanded in frustration.

In answer, Ikkaku grabbed Yumichika's gi and yanked him into a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. Their tongues tangled together in a fierce struggle for dominance as reiatsu surged around them. Yumichika bit Ikkaku's lip, drawing blood, and the bald soul reaper hissed. "Fuck, Yumi," he gasped as they broke apart. Yumichika purred. His eyes glowed with power as he sat up, caressing Ikkaku's chest with his fingernails.

Ikkaku gazed up at his lover soberly. "Don't ever give up," he ordered fiercely. "Pansy kido zanpakuto or not, there's no one else I'd trust at my back." It wasn't an apology, but it was as close as Ikkaku would ever get.

Yumichika nodded in acknowledgment. His hands traced the numerous cuts marring Ikkaku's skin, heedless of the crimson staining his fingertips. Ikkaku bucked his hips up, and Yumichika chuckled. "Patience," he admonished as his fingers continued their torturously slow paths. "I haven't forgiven you yet." He stopped, hands splayed flat on Ikkaku's chest, and looked him in the eye. "You have to get used to me using kido," he warned seriously. "Zaraki may despise me for it, but I'm done hiding."

The bburly soul reaper nodded. "I'll support you," he promised firmly, squashing his own discomfort with the idea. "You've supported me in everything else, after all."

Yumichika tossed his silky black hair over his shoulder. "Of course I have. Though truly, some of your ideas weren't very beautiful."

Ikkaku rolled his eyes, grabbing Yumichika's slender waist and flipping them over. Looking down at the pinned shinigami, he smirked. "You thought they were beautiful at the time," he pointed out smugly.

Yumichika glared at him halfheartedly. "Just shut up and kiss me, damn it," he growled. Ikkaku chuckled and eagerly obeyed.