One is Too Many

Sorry, I'm in a rush, but thanks for reviewing and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!




~god's eye~


“Are you guys always that pathetic?” Ikkaku lay back on his bed, beer in hand, loose sleeping pants tied at his waist. Kira sat quietly on the floor, the bottle the older man had pressed on him sitting mostly full beside him. He didn't answer, just watched the lines of fading evening light march across the floor. “Hey, I'm talking to you.”

“Yes, sir. I don't know, sir. We didn't really do a lot of training, or fighting.” Slender hands lifted the bottle slowly and he took a little sip, more to avoid saying anything than because he liked it.

“Aw, quit with the sir crap. Hate that shit. Ikkaku is fine.” A large hand patted the bed. “Come on up here, the floor is uncomfortable.”

“Of course, sir.” Soft folds in his night clothes smoothed as he rose gracefully and stepped delicately over to sit beside his Captain. He was prodded immediately and lay down on his stomach, bottle balanced against the pillow.

“Fuck, you're so formal. Relax, we're buddies, aren't we? Have another drink.”

“Of course, sir.” A groan of frustration and a heavy arm pressed him into the mattress

The slim back tensed but relaxed immediately; deep relaxing breaths were taken and he chugged most of his beer back, hoping it would help him calm down. It didn't. Every movement of the limb had him tensing again and forcing himself to relax. “So, when was the last time there was an exhibition sparring match?”

The lean back tensed up immediately and didn't relax this time. “I don't remember, sir.”

“Don't lie.” Strong fingers flexed against the soft cloth of the blond's uniform, gently threatening.

“I'm sorry, sir, I don't remember. About, thirty years ago, right before the second last group of recruits joined. I think. I could check the records for a more exact date, sir.” Kira tried not to curl into a ball; he knew the Captain hadn't been pleased by the match, even if he had been smiling. 'Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me.' A useless, continuous loop made him feel even more the coward.

Ikkaku hummed and ran his fingers over the dark cloth, pressing each rib lightly. 'He's so damn skinny.' The bald man watched as a few sips of beer were taken and grinned at the faint grimaces after each one. “What do you like to drink?”

“Sir? I don't really like any type of alcohol.” More specifically, he hadn't been allowed to have any type of alcohol and wouldn't know the difference. He and Matsumoto had been drinking but it was the cheapest, strongest crap they could get, so they would forget everything. The blond hadn't had anything since then or for decades before.

Ikkaku snorted and patted the younger man's left shoulder, then frowned when he didn't even flinch away like he usually did. “You must like something. Do you like sweet things?” Not that he wasn't curious but it was much more interesting to run his finger around in little circles and see how far he could go before the blond noticed. Pale skin was warm through the cloth and a strong finger edged under the collar to touch lightly; still no reaction.

Kira lay quietly, propped on his elbows and sipping his drink slowly. It was a heavy taste, slightly sour, and he couldn't think of anything he'd ever eaten that was more disgusting. “Yes, sir. I don't mind sweet things.” Silence as his shirt moved a bit, the collar tightening slightly but he couldn't feel the rubbing hand anymore; the Captain must have it on his shoulder. To stave off the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of not knowing where he was being touched, he kept talking, hoping to fill the void. “I, ah, I like spicy foods.” There was a shift against his back and cool air moved over his upper back. “S,s,sir?”

“Just a sec. Hold still.” Pale skin that he'd thought would be smooth and delicate was anything but; thin scars crisscrossed, standing out brightly and the superior officer trailed a fingertip over them, tracing lightly. He'd seen the scars on the blond's stomach and chest but for some reason he'd imagined that would be all. Partway over the left shoulder blade, the blond started, as if he'd just felt the touch. Dark eyes narrowed. “Kira, where is my hand?”

“A,about six inches to the right of my shoulder, sir.” Heat was searing into his skin, the edges of severed nerves especially sensitive after the complete deprivation of sensation an inch over. It vanished, leaving a fading warmth and growing fear in its wake.

“And now?” Ikkaku lifted his hand away.

The blond closed his eyes and guessed. “Two, two inches to the left, sir.” Air became difficult to obtain in the silence. 'I'm wrong, I'm wrong Don't be angry.'

The hand was back, wrapped around the slender waist and turning him over to lay on his back, looking up blankly. “Kira, you will not lie to me. Ever. No matter what.” Wide blue stared up, slender hands clenched in fists in the edges of his shirt. “Could you feel me touching you at all?”

Red rushed through pale cheeks and the blond tried to look away, shake his bangs into place, anything. Cold glass touched his forehead, holding him still, condensation running down his face and over his nose. “No, sir. I can't.” Shame at his weakness colored his face further, pink moving down his neck to spread over the thin chest.

'Don't be scared of me!' It was hard not to just shake his subordinate but the bald man controlled himself. The bottle was removed, the water wiped away gently. “Aw, go to sleep. We're gonna whip this ridiculous division into shape tomorrow.” His pretty Lieutenant was just getting upset and that wouldn't do him any good. He's meant to question him about the sparring match from earlier but... he was so small and shy and so obviously didn't want to talk.

The slender man rolled to his side, dropped his near-empty bottle to sit neatly beside the base of the bed, and tried not to tense up again when the strong arm pulled him back to fit into the curve of the larger body. Matsumoto had been incredibly unhelpful during his visit, only saying that Ikkaku was a good man and to trust him; not very useful for getting someone to bed you. Swallowing came from behind him and the bottle was thrown across the room to rebound off the wall with a clink before the bed bounced as the bald man shifted around and eased into sleep, soft snores moving the short hair.

After a few minutes, the blond tried to untangle himself and was yanked back, his name murmured before he was dragged across the wide chest, both arms clutching him close. His shoulders slumped and he lay his head down, listening to the smooth breathing. Sleep covered him like a blanket and he nodded off against the warmth.

Hard to be scared when warm arms cuddle you close and soft snores move your hair back and forth.

****************

Morning was a repeat of the previous day; yelling, insults, forcing the team into straight lines, running until they dropped then sword practice. The little blond trailed along behind his leader, demonstrating for the younger men and sparring with the older. Glances were flicked at him but he continued following, reinforcing the former Eleventh Division man's commands with his presence.

He was finally called over by Tetsummi and slipped away from the Captain while he yelled at some of the younger men. “Are you alright?”

Pink flushed the blond's face at the unusually blunt question. “Yes, thank you, Tetsummi. Everything is fine.”

His larger subordinate looked away, staring across the grounds. “You didn't come back last night either. We were worried.”

Kira smiled and patted a thick arm. “Thank you. I'm sorry I made you worry. He's been... very kind to us. We're lucky to have him as our Captain.”

“Fucking right. Now move your asses.” They both jumped and leapt to attention. “Lieutenant, to me. You, lead those idiots in some basic maneuvers. Try to teach them something other than how to cut their own heads off.”

“Yes sir!” The large brunet turned sharply and headed off to collect his new charges.

“Who is that again?” A wide blue eye looked up at the rough tone, harsher than usual and the blond swallowed.

A nervous hand ran through his bangs, arranging them more clearly. “Ah, that's Tetsummi, he's our third.” There was a low grunt and Ikkaku stomped off. Kira followed, frowning slightly; if he didn't know better, he'd think the bald man was jealous. But that couldn't be, no one would be jealous over him. The thought was shrugged off and he trotted away to help lead sparring sessions.


~Ikkaku~


That little brat. After keeping me up half the damn night with his jumping every time I breath, he just bounces over there and snuggles right up to, to, whoever that asshole was. Titty something. Who cares? That is my Kira, I just got him and I'm sure the fuck not giving him up! He's looking at me, little darting glances as he spars, watching me watch him.

He's so gorgeous, so far out of my league. Maybe it's me, maybe he just doesn't like me. Huh. That hadn't really occurred to me. I thought he was just scared because of his traitor of an ex-Captain, but maybe it's me. But he doesn't seem to have anyone else, and I've been watching him for years, decades even. Yume keeps calling me a stalker but I'm not, really. I was just concerned and now he's right fucking there, how can I not watch him?

I must have gotten lost in my thoughts because suddenly there's a lot of noise from Kira's area and I jog over to see him laying on his back, gasping for air. “What the fuck?” There is a smirk on his partner's face but it fades under my glare. Soft coughing from the ground and I move to help him up.

Another hand reaches for him first and what's his name is there, lifting him up and brushing him off, asking quietly if he is alright. “Yes, thank you, Tetsummi. I'm fine. The reitsu attack just caught me by surprise.” That gentle smile that hides so much flashes.

The rage is nearly uncontrollable. “So. You wanna spar with reitsu as well as swords?” The young man cowers satisfactorily. “Well, why don't you come spar with me? I could use a punching bag. I'll even limit myself to not releasing my sword. What do you say?” A wide grin and I'm sure I'm flashing little fangs.

“Oh, sir. He's very new, sir, I'm sure he didn't realize we were only sparring with our swords. No harm done. A more experienced opponent would be much more amusing for you.” Those guileless eyes are staring up at me, thin lips tilted adorably, all open and helpful, the perfect image of being eager to please, but tension is high in his shoulders, and there is a hint of tightness around his eyes. “If you like, I'm sure Tetsummi would partner you, or one of our other officers.”

I take a minute to look him over, taking in all the tiny fidgeting he probably thinks he doesn't do. His body is mostly still, fingers resting on his thighs, toes relaxed, but the muscles in his thighs are moving, his stomach is flexing continuously, his chest jerks unsteadily out of sync with his breathing. All very subtle, unnoticeable to anyone who isn't looking as carefully as I am. “Perhaps you're right. Come, draw your weapon.”

If he's so determined that I not fight the boy, I won't. For now. Slender fingers have curled into fists and his mouth is moving silently. “Sir? Me?” Red blooms suddenly in his cheeks and he shifts his gaze to the ground; it's only after he does that I realize he was looking me in the eye. Damn. “Ah, sir, I don't think, you might not,” His shoulders are hunched again and he's trying to stare a hole through my sandals.

“Come. Call your sword. I haven't seen it.” Which is true, I can't recall a single time Kira has called his sword to fight. I've heard that it looks odd but I've never been around to see it. “Come on, let's go.” Space is clearing around us while he hesitates, looking at each of his officers uncertainly.

Oh no, they won't help you now. Come on, Kira. Show me how beautiful you are flushed with battle. Fuck, I'm getting sappy now that he's around all the time. Yume was right, I am gross. But he's pulling his weapon, holding it uncertainly in one hand, eyes down. “Houzukimaru, extend.” A start and my little blond Lieutenant raises his sword, holding it in front of himself defensively.

I wait another minute but he says nothing, just stares at me, fear hidden in those deep eyes. Well, fine, I can give him time later. A light jab is deflected and he charges, silent except for the soft thud of his feet. His strike is simple to shove to the side and I resist the urge to grope him on his way by; I don't want to embarrass him, I just want to give him a boost. My turn to attack and I swing my staff over my head. “Split.” Chains clink as Houzukimaru shoots towards him, blade gleaming.

Suddenly, he's gone and appears a few feet away; a flash step. Not bad, I wasn't aware he knew that particular move. Well, hell, no point in going easy. A flick of my wrist sends the blade at the end of the chains spinning towards him and it is deflected only for the center to strike him across the chest. The force sends him stumbling back and he takes to the air, leaping backwards, floating to the ground. Hard eyes watch me from his retreat, considering.

Huh. He doesn't want to show me. I wonder... “Go, Houzukimaru!” The staff extends again, reaching for him and I'm ready when he vanishes, a twitch of his hand giving his direction away. When he appears again, the blade at the end of my weapon is there to meet him, forcing him back to the air; I laugh softly and his gaze darts to my face, the fear nearly making me stop. No, I want him to fight back just once, learn I won't punish him for protecting himself.

The rush of pushing an opponent lights my eyes, a battle grin stretching my face and he looks even more afraid, if that's even possible. Our audience moves further back; I'd nearly forgotten about them. My spear is streaming through the air, pieces extending to slide past the blond's shoulder and a flick brings it around, trapping his arms at his sides. “Call your sword!” The ground shakes under the force as he slams into it, coughing and struggling to breathe.

Houzukimaru returns to my hand and lays quietly across my shoulders while we wait. I can hear his voice whispering in my head, demanding to play with our new Lieutenant. Patience, patience, let him call his weapon and we'll play until we can no longer stand. He's standing now, sword held horizontally in front of him, shaking just a bit as he presses his palm to the tip. “Wabisuki, show your face.”

Soft light and the form warps, lengthening and twisting into, I don't know what that is. A partial square maybe, three sides at right angles. The outer edge looks flat and as he drops it to his side, I see the cutting edge is on the inside. I'm frowning slightly, though I don't mean to. What possible good could that be? Big blue eyes are staring at the ground again, thin shoulders forward. The spirit pressure hasn't changed radically after the initial flare, no sharp increase as nearly everyone does when they call their Shikai form but no decrease either, as if he were subduing his energy.

A snicker is cut short from behind me, a quick slap of flesh on flesh following. Good, I don't want to deal with that right now. There must be something that makes it strong, strong enough to hold the Vice Captain's position. I don't care what anyone says, Ichimaru was no one's fool and he would never promote a weak Lieutenant, toy or otherwise. I raise my spear, little red tail fluttering defiantly.

His eyes are cold now, tension tight around them but his arms and shoulders are loose, ready to attack or defend; ready to fight. Good stance, a solid base, not bad. This could be fun. A yell and I charge, stabbing quickly with the flat blade, making the blond dodge quickly, defending himself with fast little taps of weapons.

I get a few slices in, nicking his clothes and the tip of my blade catches on his belt, tearing it away. A squeak and he's stumbling backwards, hand over where the white cloth was; he's not wearing a regulation uniform? I noticed it when I first arrived but it didn't seem a big deal; something else to put on the 'to ask' list. Pale skin flashes between his fingers and at the edges of his pants all around the waist; the hem of a shirt is slipping out of the waistband. I pull back, frowning at him while his cheeks heat and he looks away, fingers curling tightly in his shirt to hold it down. Is he hiding the rings? I can feel my cheeks flushing a bit and wave for him to retrieve his belt, which he scrambles to do, tying it quickly in place over his shirt.

As soon as it's tied, he raises his sword again, ready to continue. A quick nod and he attacks, pressing closely to land a hit on the first part of my staff and two to the center before retreating; I let him without striking, just to see what will happen. Interesting technique but not real effective. It doesn't slow me down, incapacitate me, or even defend very well. I take the offensive and attack quickly again, careful not to catch his belt again; he defends with more little taps, barely enough to keep me from hitting him.

Not much force but my aim is off, something has changed. The short chains aren't responding as they would normally, each section just a little out of position with the next, and I snap it back into place without attacking, not willing to risk misjudging. My eyes narrow; he's changing my weapon, it feels heavier. Significantly heavier now that I heft it, testing the theory. Normally, it takes no effort to raise my spear or to use my wrist to move the sections as required but now my arm is feeling it, steady pressure as if a weight is tied to the blade. “Well, interesting. But can you beat me with that?”

Surprise flickers and his eyes lose their cold focus, startled by my voice. Or perhaps it's my words. I doubt he's had much in the way of praise. Doubt shows for a second before it is shoved away. What are the limits? Does it change every time he hits my weapon or does he have to choose a time? Does it work against anything other than a sword? Like me? May as well test it.

The charge startles him, sending him scrambling backwards, trying to escape. A flash step, left by the spasm in his free hand and I'm there, a firm hand tangled in his top, holding him still. Wabisuki hits my leg, then my side and he struggles, panicked now, tiny whimpers escaping, apologies running together. The sudden weight change sends me stumbling and we fall; rolling is impossible and we end up in a heap on the ground, me half in his lap, face pressed to his stomach. Well, at least I got an answer.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Please, please, I'm sorry!” He's nearly crying and I push against the ground, getting used to the change.

“Why? You did good.” Heavy, heavy, heavy, this is worse than lugging lazy Yumi's luggage all over the fucking country; yes, I did do that, though why I have no idea. By the pressure on my arms, I'd say I'm looking at three hundred pounds and I'm only lifting my shoulders. Shit.

I can barely get up enough to push over and roll off him and still need an extra shove to get all the way over to pant on the ground. “Come here.” Blue eyes are still dry but barely. A smile, proud and happy and he tries to smile back, uncertain. “Good job. You fought great. You'll have to tell me about it later. For now, can you change it back?” Blond bangs shake and I can make out the scars on his eyelid when he closes his eyes. “How long?”

“Half an hour. At least.” Thin shoulders are shaking so hard I'm surprised his teeth aren't chattering. Ah, dammit, he thinks I'll punish him after, when I'm back to normal. His voice drops to a whisper. “I'm so sorry. I know I'm not allowed but you said and I didn't want to but you said and”

“Oi, enough. You can always use your sword. It belongs to you and using it is your choice. No one can tell you whether to use it or not. But if you don't, you have to expect to get your ass kicked.” A low whimper and I wish I could ruffle his bangs and tell him he's a good kid. “You did very well and I'm extremely pleased.” Yes, I do know big words like that and how to use them; by the look on his face, he didn't think so. “Now quiet down, sit there and amuse me until I can move again.”

“Ye, yes sir.” I can vaguely make out the sounds of practice beginning around us again but they are ignored in favor of listening to my pretty blond babble about how nice the weather is.


~Kira~


I can't believe he made me call Wabisuki. I didn't mean to use her against him like that but he grabbed me and I was so scared. I thought he was going to beat me for sure and that spear of his looked like it would hurt a hell of a lot when he brought it down on me. But, he didn't, he was smiling of all things. He said he was pleased.

I just don't understand.

He said I could use my sword whenever I wanted but I'm not allowed to draw my weapon. Or, I should say, I wasn't allowed. What should I do? I'm babbling about how pretty the sky is and whether or not it will rain tonight. I don't know what to say.

His fingers are moving, lifting slowly and starting to wiggle, fighting the extra weight. So strong, his body must weight at least seven hundred pounds, he's not a light man in the first place and I hit him twice but he keeps breathing, talking even, and he lifted himself off of me. I feel like crying again. Even after I was so awful and hit him, he still tried to protect me, knowing I wouldn't be able to hold that much weight.

“Sir?” He glances up at me, turning his eyes from the sky as he flexes, working movement back into his limbs. “Why, please sir, will you tell me why you didn't beat me?” Because he could have, easily, I could never fool myself into thinking I won on my own. His physical power alone could have obliterated any defense I set up, never mind his spiritual power.

“Because I didn't need to. You fought well and I'm pleased with your abilities. What good would wiping the ground with you have done?” He's staring at me, piercing eyes watching my reaction as I stare back down.

A tiny smile, because I'm glad he's pleased with me, and I go back to talking about the weather. He's so kind, I don't know what to think. “Hey, Kira.” I must have stopped talking and I glance down to see him staring at the sky. “What do you want?”

“I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand” What is he talking about? What do I want? I'm frowning down at him but he just keeps staring at the sky, ignoring my confusion.

A low sigh. “You won, what do you want?” As in, a reward? I just blink. I don't understand, I get a prize? What kind? My silence is bothering him and he grunts as he forces himself to sit, pushing with both arms. “You can have anything I can give you, so what do you want?”

I, I don't know. Anything? I could have anything? Could I, ask to be transferred? But then I would have to leave the men behind and there's no guarantee anywhere else would be better. A promise, that he won't hurt any of us? But he would be the one to decide if he kept it or not. What could I ask for? “I don't know, sir.” Honesty is a good thing but he's looking at me as if I've appeared beside him for the first time. I feel my shoulders curve and look at the ground beside my knees. “Please don't be angry.”

He sighs again and a heavy hand lands on my head, weighing it down slightly. “Quit being so scared of me. I'm not going to hit you every time you breathe.” Faint trembling and he ruffles my bangs before crawling to his feet. A bit unsteady, the effects of our little battle still pushing him down but he grins and reaches down to take my hand, pulling me to my feet.

I'm waved away and collect Wabisuki before turning to help with some sparring. As I walk away, it occurs to me that he never once dropped his weapon; I peek over my shoulder but he's already moved on, yelling at a pair dancing around each other. His voice echoes but it's not as terrifying as it was yesterday.

Scary.