Bleach (Ikkaku/Yumichika)
Title: Gorgeous
Author: Cadence
Rating: PG
Word Count: 291
A/N: Prompt: Bleach, Ikkaku/Yumichika: fighting - ' no one's sure which one of them is crazier'
That a human could see them was unusual. The confusion, anger and fear in his eyes as his eyes went from Ikkaku's fight with the Arrancar to Yumichika's calm demeanor as he observed was not.
Yumichika didn't fight if it wasn't necessary. It had always confused people, seeing him standing calmly while Ikkaku blustered and bled and often nearly died. They thought Ikkaku was insane with bloodlust, and they thought Yumichika was weak, uncaring or both.
"Zaraki squad, third seat, Madarame Ikkaku!" Ikkaku yelled, and Yumichika smiled slightly.
They didn't understand, of course. There was meaning in that, in being in eleventh squad, Zaraki's squad. Meaning beyond numbers. Third seat, or fifth (fifth-could-be-fourth, which only reinforced people's impressions) - what did it matter? Either of them could be a lieutenant (or perhaps a captain - Ikkaku didn't talk much about that, though) in any other squad. But they never would be, because they were eleventh squad, and that meant they loved fighting more than anything else.
Ikkaku grinned and struck out with sword and sheath, flipped and dodged, heedless of the blood dripping down his face.
Yumichika just didn't necessarily prefer his own fights. His soul slayer's power reflected that, of course. But in some ways draining anyone else's power felt... artificial. A manufactured drug, compared to the natural, beautiful high that was watching Ikkaku fight.
Ikkaku fighting was gorgeous in a way that Yumichika never could be. He was always entirely devoted to the battle - flexing muscle and deliberate movement, the slice of steel and the rush of pure power. He never cared about anything else, be it death or Yumichika himself.
Yumichika cultivated beauty, but Ikkaku in sweat and blood was beautiful enough to take his breath away.
Author: Cadence
Rating: PG
Word Count: 291
A/N: Prompt: Bleach, Ikkaku/Yumichika: fighting - ' no one's sure which one of them is crazier'
That a human could see them was unusual. The confusion, anger and fear in his eyes as his eyes went from Ikkaku's fight with the Arrancar to Yumichika's calm demeanor as he observed was not.
Yumichika didn't fight if it wasn't necessary. It had always confused people, seeing him standing calmly while Ikkaku blustered and bled and often nearly died. They thought Ikkaku was insane with bloodlust, and they thought Yumichika was weak, uncaring or both.
"Zaraki squad, third seat, Madarame Ikkaku!" Ikkaku yelled, and Yumichika smiled slightly.
They didn't understand, of course. There was meaning in that, in being in eleventh squad, Zaraki's squad. Meaning beyond numbers. Third seat, or fifth (fifth-could-be-fourth, which only reinforced people's impressions) - what did it matter? Either of them could be a lieutenant (or perhaps a captain - Ikkaku didn't talk much about that, though) in any other squad. But they never would be, because they were eleventh squad, and that meant they loved fighting more than anything else.
Ikkaku grinned and struck out with sword and sheath, flipped and dodged, heedless of the blood dripping down his face.
Yumichika just didn't necessarily prefer his own fights. His soul slayer's power reflected that, of course. But in some ways draining anyone else's power felt... artificial. A manufactured drug, compared to the natural, beautiful high that was watching Ikkaku fight.
Ikkaku fighting was gorgeous in a way that Yumichika never could be. He was always entirely devoted to the battle - flexing muscle and deliberate movement, the slice of steel and the rush of pure power. He never cared about anything else, be it death or Yumichika himself.
Yumichika cultivated beauty, but Ikkaku in sweat and blood was beautiful enough to take his breath away.