Dear Reader, This is the final chapter in The Peacock series. It's a short one, and a little sugary - so diabetics, beware! Now, you might be thinking, "How is TK going to resolve everything in 3,000 words?" Well . . . I'm not. You see, as I prepared The Peacock for online posting, I added in all sorts of things which were not in the original version, and now those things need to be resolved/answered. In addition, I've been writing another Yumichika/Ikkaku story that was going to be a complete stand-alone. But now, I've decided to just weave them both together. So, where this series ends, another series (as yet unnamed) will pick up, and all will be resolved. Needless to say, since I am meshing two very distinct stories together, I have some major rewrites to do of the new story. It may be a few weeks before the first part of the next story goes up. At any rate, I'd like to say thanks to everyone who read The Peacock. I've had a lot of fun writing it and reading the reviews. So, bis gleich! TK

Chapter 11 The Return Home

In the east, as we journey on our way,
The dawning of the day, let me walk by your side,
Take me back where no frozen heart remains,
No sorrow and no shame.

The Eastern Sun
Justin Hayward

Picture the wings that take you home,
Home to the love you need.
That's what you need.

Island
Justin Hayward

Such a rainy afternoon. The kind of early spring downpour that quickly saturated the ground and formed ever-expanding puddles on the dirt walkways and the grass lawns. The sky was grey from end to end, but not the kind of dull, monotonous grey that drove the people to depression; rather, it was a textured gray, lighter in some areas, darker in others, constantly shifting beneath the high altitude winds that swirled above the cloud banks.

From his hospital room, Yumichika thought it looked beautiful, and he longed to be outside in it.

But Captain Unohana would never permit him to go outside unescorted. Even after nearly four months, he was still too weak for such a venture; and since there was no one available to go with him, he resigned himself to a comfortable seat on the broad window sill where he could at least enjoy the view.

A single knock at the door briefly preceded Ikkaku's entrance. He was no longer a Shinigami, and so he did not wear the uniform. Thankfully—at least as far as Yumichika was concerned—he had not gone back to wearing the vulgarly short kosode-type outfit that had been his preference back when they had first met. Instead, he wore a longer, sleeveless kosode of a vile green color over a black hakama. It was not what Yumichika considered flattering, but it preserved Ikkaku's decency.

Since resigning his position in Squad Eleven, Ikkaku had been staying at the transient billets, but he spent little time there. Most of his waking hours were passed in Yumichika's hospital room. He had set his focus on helping Yumichika recover as quickly as possible, but it had soon become apparent that the process could not be hurried. Or rather, Captain Unohana did not want to speed up Yumichika's recovery of his reiatsu. She seemed to think that it was best for Yumichika to regain his spirit energy at a natural rate, with no interference from outside sources.

Progress was painfully slow, but it was steady and that was a good thing. The forced waiting had allowed Yumichika to absorb the events of the last four months whilst in the company and comfort of friends. Even so, he still had not come to terms with the loss of Ruri'iro Kujaku. He managed to keep an expression of serenity on his face, but the underlying melancholy always played through. It seemed that the more time that passed, the harder it became for him to believe that the peacock could still be in existence somewhere. Yet, he was not willing to consign Ruri'iro Kujaku to death quite yet, as if admitting such a thing would make it so. He was not prepared to do that.

In fact, in the midst of so much loss and chaos, the possibility of Ruri'iro Kujaku still being alive was one of only two threads Yumichika could hold onto. The revelation of Heykibi's treachery had been distressing enough, but news of Mendalo's death had sent him reeling into the depths of despair and mourning. Only Ikkaku's persistent attention and consolation had kept him from tumbling over the edge into despondency.

Now, four months later, Yumichika appeared to be over the worst of the agonies of mind, but he was far from recovered.

Ikkaku walked over to stand by the window where Yumichika was sitting. "Whatcha looking at?"

"The last of the snow is finally melted. The rain washed it all away," Yumichika replied, continuing to gaze out the window.

Ikkaku paused a moment before stating, "And that means it's time we should be going away."

Yumichika looked up at him with uncertainty. "Are you sure about this, Ikkaku? I know how much it meant to you to be here serving under Captain Zaraki. I know how happy you are here. Are you really sure you want to leave?"

Ikkaku's answer was immediate and unequivocal. "I'm positive."

Yumichika did not contest his assertion. He had listened to Ikkaku speak of little else for the past four months.

"Where will we go?" he asked, drawing his legs up to his chest so Ikkaku could sit down on the window sill.

"I have a few ideas in mind," Ikkaku replied.

"You know I can only walk five or ten minutes without having to rest," Yumichika reminded him.

"I know. And it's not a problem." He stood back up. "Come on, I want to show you something." He helped Yumichika out of the room, down the hall, and outside into the meager shelter of a door awning. He could not help but notice how thin and frail Yumichika still was, and he wondered how long it would be until he put a little weight back on and regained the perfection that had once been his hallmark.

Ikkaku got a firm one-armed grip around Yumichika's waist and said, "Hold on."

Ikkaku was proficient at flashstep, even if his travel was rough and jerky. With Yumichika's added weight, little though it was, he was almost as clumsy as a bird trying to fly with an oversized twig in its beak.

He went towards the southern edge of the Gotei 13 area and settled down outside a small wooden warehouse. He opened the door and they went inside, and here there was a cart, laden with provisions, a canvas tarp over the top . . .

"It's just like the one Kaekae gave us," Yumichika said, stepping inside.

"Very similar."

"And it's already loaded . . . "

"Except for perishables and anything you might want to bring," Ikkaku nodded, feeling that he had done a good, thorough job.

"Oh, but that's a lot of work for you, Ikkaku," Yumichika deferred. "Wouldn't it be easier to do what you just did? You could carry me bit by bit using flashstep. It would be a lot faster."

Ikkaku faced him in the rain-dimmed light coming into the warehouse. "I don't want to go fast. I want to take our time, see the places we're traveling through, slow things down for once." He went over to the cart and checked the security of some of the supplies tethered to it. "We can get to know each other again. And maybe recapture some of what it felt like the first time we did this."

Yumichika grinned, and it was genuine. "I didn't know you had those kinds of thoughts."

"What kind of thoughts?"

"Sentimental. Nostalgic."

Ikkaku gave a half-grin, half-smirk. "Yeah, well . . . don't get used to it. Deep down, I'm still that crude, manner-less asshole at the well."

"That goes without saying," Yumichika quipped. "But, you know, I kind of liked that guy." He walked over and examined the cart. "Looks like you've thought of everything."

"Just about. We can leave any time you want."

"It will be messy traveling at this time of year."

Ikkaku continued to inspect the job he had done packing the cart. "Un-huh. Just like it was last time, or have you forgotten the floods and the mud and constant rain?"

It was funny, because he was complaining, yet he sounded excited and anxious.

"You're looking forward to this, aren't you?" Yumichika posed.

"Yeah. I guess I am," came the staid reply.

"You won't be sad to leave here?" Yumichika pressed.

"Sure I will," Ikkaku shrugged. "But the thought of good things to come outweighs the sadness." He looked away self-consciously. "Besides, I finally figured out that . . . if you're not here, I don't want to be here."

That was all the convincing Yumichika needed. "So . . . when are we getting started?"

Captain Unohana cleared him for travel. Yumichika had feared she might present a hurdle to his departure, considering how she had watched him like a hawk when he was a patient; but Ikkaku knew better. He knew that Unohana was convinced that the best thing for Yumichika was to get as far away from the Seireitei as possible, in the company of someone who would look after and love him. And she believed that Madarame, despite his failures in the past, would fit that bill quite nicely.

Yumichika had never been put off by good-byes. The sorrow of parting ways had always appeared in the light of new experiences. It was the same this time. Rangiku, Yachiru, Iba, Captains Ukitake and Kyoraku. They, among others, had all come by to say their farewells once they'd heard that the departure was imminent. Even Shuhei had come by, fumbling through a good-bye that was as clumsy as it was charming.

Ikkaku had made a point of going to see Captain Zaraki, although catching him in garrison was not an easy task, for he spent much of his time—and the squad's resources—searching for any clue as to Heykibi's whereabouts. But he happened to be in garrison at the moment, and Ikkaku went to see him. It was a strange situation, Ikkaku having resigned his commission four months ago, now facing the man who had once been his captain and in whom he still saw so much to admire.

But he'd learned the hard way that admiration wasn't enough.

It had been a cordial enough meeting. Zaraki felt no sense of loss, other than that of seeing yet another good fighter depart. He'd not said a word about Yumichika or his single-handed defeat of the demon. It was clear that his aversion to kido was unchanged by events. Ikkaku held nothing against him. After all, it was not Zaraki who had changed, but rather Ikkaku.

Zaraki's parting words reminded Ikkaku of the man's single-mindedness.

"If you hear or see anything of Heykibi, you send me word. Got it?"

Ikkaku nodded once. "Got it."

With that, he took leave of his former captain, and he was quite sure he would never see him again.

They set out on a cold morning—not cold enough to bring the frost, but enough to make their breath visible in the slanting sunlight.

Yumichika insisted that he start out on foot, and he managed to get along well for the first fifteen minutes, which was longer than either of them had expected. Because the cart had been housed right at the border of the Seireitei, they were immediately beyond its walls as soon as they set out. Being outside the Seireitei, moving leisurely through the thin band of poplar trees that ran east to west just south of the city, then following the dirt road that ran alongside the tiny river Eitei, nodding a greeting to the workers in the fields, passing fellow travellers headed north . . . Ikkaku felt comfortable and at peace. He had no regrets about his decision. And seeing Yumichika walking beside him, quiet but clearly content, he knew he had done the right thing.

And he would continue to do so.

For two months, they headed due south, passing through villages, avoiding the larger towns and cities. Yumichika was able to walk a little longer each day, but Ikkaku was careful not to let him overdo it, and so Yumichika spent far more time in the cart than on his feet. When the weather was nice, they would pull the tarp back, and Yumichika would sit at the front, where he could watch and comment on their travel. When the weather turned wet, up went the tarp, and Ikkaku would climb in the back to rest while the weather passed.

It was those moments, lying beside Yumichika under the cover of the tarp with the sound of rain and thunder overhead, feeling the strength of the wind as it rattled and nudged at the cart, a profound sense of peace settled over Ikkaku's soul. He knew those moments were the makings of enduring, favorite memories. It amazed him just how far he had strayed from the recollections of how it felt to lay by Yumichika's side, to hear him breath, to feel the beat of his heart.

But what amazed him the most was that all the sensations he was recovering were coming to him without the benefit of Yumichika's most powerful weapon.

The seduction was gone.

Completely and utterly gone.

To be sure, Yumichika's beauty remained, still tarnished from his ordeal but regaining its luster bit by bit every day. But it was only beauty. The feeling of being drawn in, the wanton desire to possess him, the unspoken allure that had always been bubbling just beneath the surface – gone. In fact, if anything, Yumichika now appeared to have grown shy and taciturn, indifferent to his physical beauty, and disinterested in the physicality he had formerly displayed.

All of which was perfectly acceptable to Ikkaku. He no longer had to wonder if his attraction to Yumichika was of his own making or if it were due to Yumichika turning on his ability. On top of that, while he missed certain aspects of Yumichika's arrogance and narcissism, the greater part of him reveled in the company of someone who now, unlike before, made his need known.

So passed the days for nearly two months, as they traveled further south and then, crossing the mighty river Goet on a cable-drawn ferry, they headed east.

After two more weeks of travel, Yumichika recognized the line of the eastern horizon, the hazy outline of jagged mountains. He said nothing as they journeyed nearer and nearer, and he even managed to hold his silence once they turned due south again and started up the well-worn track on the north-facing side of a mountain Yumichika knew like the back of his hand.

"Is there a reason we're going up the mountain instead of through the valley?" he asked.

Ikkaku was grinning. "Of course, and you know the reason."

"Is this part of the nostalgic journey?"

"No, this is the present. And the future."

Yumichika could barely contain his joy, although it was tempered with caution. "We're . . . coming here to stay?"

"Yep."

"But—but what about your father? If he—"

"He's gone. While you were recuperating, I came and checked everything out before deciding to come here. I found out my father has been gone for years. No one knows where. I'm sure he's still out there looking for me. I also learned that the cottage is empty. I guess no one wants to live on the mountain and deal with the hike and the winters and . . . all that stuff. I went to see it. It needs some work, but it's not in bad shape. The villagers all offered to fix it up and get it ready for us, but I told them we'd take care of it. It'll give us something to do."

Yumichika was speechless.

"So, is this a good decision?" Ikkaku asked.

Yumichika nodded. "A very good decision."

Up the mountain they went, taking the zig-zag trail to where it met with another trail coming from the other side of the mountain, nearly half-way to the summit. Here they took the other trail, and by late afternoon on that warm day in mid-June, they entered the meadow above Venla.

Yumichika climbed out of the cart, walked halfway across the tall grass and stopped to turn and look about him.

Time seemed not to have touched the place, other than the state of disrepair of the human aspects of it: the cottage, the garden, the wash porch. All of nature's finery was intact and as resplendent as ever.

The pines reached up in green majesty against the deepening blue sky. The grass waved gently in the westerly breeze. Bird song filled the air. Could there be a more perfect place?

Yumichika walked slowly to the cottage ruins. Ikkaku had been right. It wasn't in such bad shape. The roof was in shambles, parts of the walls needed repairing, but it was still a sturdy structure. He stepped inside and a broad smile spread across his face. A large twig basket sat on the floor by the blackened hearth. It was filled with fruits and vegetables, some salted meat, two loaves of bread tightly wrapped in burlap, and a jug of what could only be the local's malt.

Yumichika turned to see Ikkaku in the doorway. "Did you sneak away while I was sleeping and put this here?"

"Neh," Ikkaku replied, "But yesterday, while you were sleeping, I flashed over to Venla and let Yenset know we would be arriving today. He must have brought it up here. You know, they were all very excited that we were coming back. Yenset even offered me my old job back." A pause. "I wanted to come back here, because I knew this was where you were the happiest. And I was happy here, too."

"Ikkaku . . . I . . . I . . . " Yumichika stammered. At length, he pulled himself together. "I need to be sure this is really what you want." He drew on one of his fondest memories. "It won't be easy here. It'll be a lot of hard work."

Ikkaku smiled. He knew the memory. "I like hard work."

"The winters will be very cold." Yumichika reminded him.

"Not inside."

"No luxuries—"

"You can turn any place into a thing of beauty."

Yumichika was touched that Ikkaku recalled the conversation. "Then you're really sure?"

"Positive."

"Then I guess we'd better to start to unload some of this stuff before it gets dark," Yumichika suggested.

As it turned out, little got unloaded. Instead, they both went to the mountain stream to bathe and bring fresh water back to the cottage. Then as Yumichika rested, Ikkaku brought in a bamboo floor mat and some blankets and placed them in front of the hearth. As the sun began to set and the temperature dropped, he started a fire. They had a light dinner from the basket provided by the villagers, then they both laid down to sleep.

As the fire grew low, Ikkaku pulled Yumichika close to him. "Tell me if you get cold."

Above them, through the gaping hole in the roof, the sky was filled with stars. During his entire time in the Gotei 13, Yumichika had not had the time or inclination to look at the stars. During his penance in Mito, his frame of mind would never have permitted star-gazing. But here, lying in Ikkaku's warm embrace, he felt as if this place and this moment had been made just for him.

"I'd forgotten what the night sky looked like," he said quietly. From somewhere nearby, a Wood Pewee called up, "tee-up, tee-up" as if in agreement. "I can see heaven."

Ikkaku knew the feeling. He tightened his embrace. "Me, too. Here, in my arms."

Yumichika craned his head up and smiled. "That's pretty sappy for you."

"Are you trying to ruin the moment?"

"Nothing could ruin this moment," Yumichika replied. He was silent a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice had the smooth tenor of someone who had come safely to the end of a long journey. "I feel like I'm back home."

Ikkaku felt the mountain night all around them.

"You are home," he whispered. "Our home."

For those who recall from Part I, the conversation Ikkaku and Yumichika have at the end of this chapter is the same conversation they had upon first arriving in the meadow in Venla, only the lines were reversed.