Hey All, It starts off pretty rough, and it's got a bit of a dark side, but I hope you like it.

P.S. if you find any mistakes at all, feel free to let me know.

Tears ran down Hanataro's cheeks as he whimpered and wished for the tortures to end. He could feel the blood leaking down his thighs, the bruises forming on his hips beneath the harsh, rough hands that held him. The third man to so far be buried to the hilt in Hanataro's backside let out a moan as he came, seed running down with the blood along the boy's legs. As the man pulled out, he heard the others laughing and more hands reached out to hold him down as another set to take his turn. Once again the slender and beaten form wretched from side to side trying to throw the men off, but they were bigger, stronger and more determined.

"hush now ya little fuck," the one positioned behind the healer cooed with false reassurance, stroking the black hair that stuck with sweat to Hanataro's forehead. "You know you like it, whore." He grabbed Hana's neck and a soft cry escaped the seventh seat's lips as he braced himself for more pain to shoot through his body.

When the pain didn't come, he felt more than heard the scabbard of a blade being drawn as he was released by his captors and fell to the ground. His entire body throbbed with unfathomable agony as he tried to raise his head, to scream, to run, but was unable to move. The darkness around him seemed to grow thicker as the world swung out from under him and blurred. The last thing he heard before losing consciousness was the single word of a release. He didn't know if it was friend or foe, but his mind played it loudly as he sank into the dark, fearing the worst.

As Hanataro regained awareness of his body, the first thing he noticed was the pain. His entire body ached to the core. After all the sexual abuse those brutes from the eleventh squad had made him endure, he was lucky to be alive. He wondered vaguely how he had not bled out entirely in the alley outside their squad's barracks, but the thought was interrupted as he began to notice a second thing. He was warm.

Carefully and slowly he opened his tear-strained red eyes and blinked into the morning light. He was wrapped comfortably in a large yukata beneath a soft comforter on a bed in a strange apartment. He sat up and looked around. The place was clean enough, though untidy and lived in. He could see a small kitchenette area and a sitting area with a low table and cushions instead of chairs or mats. Off to one side of the room was a basin where it seemed someone had washed his stained uniform which was hung to dry on a rack by the wall.

Hana blinked several times, taking it all in before an alluring aroma turned his head and he finally noticed that someone had laid out tea and some soup and sandwiches on a tray by the bed. He eagerly started in on them, realizing then that he hadn't eaten anything since the morning before. He had been heading home for dinner when... He stopped the thought before it could be completed. Just thinking about it made him ache again.

As he was finishing up the tea and wondering what to do next, panic struck him when heavy footfalls sounded outside the door. Images of the night before rushed through his mind and as the door opened he contemplated feigning sleep to deter another attack. Not being quick enough to act on the instinct, he could only stare as whoever it was entered the room. The scowl of dark eyes and a shine of polished scalp were the first things the small healer saw, and he remained unsure of whether this was good or bad.

"Madarame-San?" he squeaked. His voice was hoarse from screaming last night and sounded even weaker than usual. The third seat turned his attention to the big blue eyes shining nervously up from his bed, and gave a half grin, which only seemed to make the boy slink further down into the blanket.

"Yer awake! And ya ate too, I see. Good. Need ta get yer strength back up." The muscled man put down the bundle he'd been carrying, shifting his zanpacto to a stand by the door in the process. Hanataro stared on in wonder as the other took the basin he'd brought in, filled with water, and brought it over beside the bed for the slighter man, along with soap and a clean cloth.

"Thought ya might wana clean up a bit." he went back to the table and took another item he'd brought in and carried it over to the healer as well.

"Might be more comfortable in this," he explained, handing Hana the yukata. "'T's one 'o Yumichika's, 'cause mine are all too big for ya." The smaller man looked on with a stunned silence as Ikkaku felt the drying uniform on the rack and mumbled something, the only word of which Hanataro understood was 'damp.' He then picked up the large basin filled with dirty water, which Hana could have easily bathed in, and lugged it with little difficulty out the door.

The healer sat in silence for a moment, listening to the heavy steps fade, then, when they didn't return immediately, he began to take inventory for the first time of his injuries. He let the large garment slide off his shoulders and pool around his waist as he felt the bruises rising up from his neck all the way down his torso to his hips. They were painful, black and turning green and yellow, but they had definitely been tended by someone with a basic healing skill. The same could be said for the cuts and scrapes, which had also gotten treated with some sort of salve. He moved lower, wincing as he did, then noticed that he was naked under the yukata and blushed feverishly at the thought of Ikkaku and whoever had healed him seeing him naked. Still, he was glad that he hadn't been taken back to the fourth division. He knew that he was the victim in this, but somehow, he felt ashamed. He felt as if it was his fault; that he had somehow asked for it, walking through the eleventh that late at night. If he had been taken back to the fourth, all his friends and colleagues would know. He didn't want anyone to know.

He had gotten cleaned up in the fresh water and dressed in the flowery yukata that even coming from Yumichika was too big, and was just running his fingers through his hair to flatten it a bit when Ikkaku came back. This time he knocked, though he didn't wait for an answer.

"Hana? You decent?" he asked, poking his head in the doorway just the same. Hanataro tried not to look terrified of the big man and nodded.

"Uh, huh" He squeaked back, not managing full words. The third seat had always frightened him. The eleventh squad were known to be brutes, and of them Ikkaku was bested only by Zaraki, who only didn't frighten Hana quite as much because of Yachiru. The pink-haired girl loved Hanataro, and so Zaraki was usually at least civil and at most uninterested toward the small man. His experiences with Ikkaku on the other hand left a fearful impression on the slighter shinigami. The man had, in the past, even thrown things at the healer's head from the confines of a hospital bed. He was an angry man who hated being in the fourth division's barracks and always gave everyone trouble when he was there, which was often. He also had a habit of sending others there, often in pieces, and often subordinates from his own squad. Even when he had seen the fighter outside his own division's walls the man always seemed to have a scowl on his face and be yelling at someone or other, his katana slung threateningly over his shoulder. To see him now, without his Zanpakto, a half grin on his face, preparing tea at his kitchenette while Hana sat silently on the bed watching, you would think this was a different man entirely.

"How ya feelin' this mornin' then?" The bald man asked, sitting down on a cushion, then shaking his head and answering himself. "What am I sayin'? of course ya feel rotten. Those sons o' bitches nearly ripped ya in two…" he lowered his head for a moment, and then met the other's eyes again. "Look, Hana, I know the guys who done this to ya were in my division, an' I'm sorry 'bout what happened. They aughta know better than this. If ya want to have them brought up officially on charges, I'll be glad to put the paperwork through myself, but for now I put them to my own form of justice, and believe me, they're being punished but good." His face was nearly free of his ever-present scowl, and he seemed sincere, but all the seventh seat could do was stare. When he realized this, of course, his blue eyes dropped to his hands sitting gently in his lap.

The kettle whistled and Hana was grateful. He needed to think. Ikkaku rose and finished making the tea, setting a cup down in front of the smaller man, who for the second time that morning burnt his tongue hastily drinking the hot liquid. Ikkaku watched as the other gulped down the tea and avoided eye contact, saddened by how uncomfortable the boy obviously felt, though he was at least trying to mask it. Normally he would have had no problem with being avoided or even feared by the lower ranking officers of the seretai; that went for any division. But seeing as the healer most likely saw him as the head asshole of the gang of assholes who did this to him, the clench in his gut was probably warranted. It had been a long time since he'd had to deal with someone recovering from rape, but he knew that it wouldn't be easy. It would be hard for Hanataro to trust people again, and he hadn't been so close to Ikkaku in the first place.

"So, I should go check on some things." Ikkaku broke the tension, getting to his feet. "You just stay here an' rest, and when I come back I can walk ya back to yer division if ya want, alright?" Hanataro nodded without looking up at the full height fighter, still sipping slowly on his tea. The bald man nodded to himself as he gathered his Zanpakto and left. It wasn't going to be easy.

Hope you liked the first part. Things will not be so devastating from here on, and be warned I do have a bit of a different take on Ikkaku.

~Andromeda