Title: And Miles to Go
Universe: Bleach
Theme/Topic: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: Kenpachi, Ikkaku, Yumichika, Yachiru
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for like, 119 of the anime? I don't remember what chapter that was. LOL
Word Count: 1,294
Summary: Ikkaku isn't strong enough yet.
Dedication: Uh. Yeah.
A/N: Wow I am out of practice with Bleach. But I guess my love of the 11th will never die even if the canon is kind of eeeeeh right now. Apologies if this doesn't make a lick of sense. XD;; It would probably help if I edited it, but I HAVE WORK TOMORROW so I am going to sleep and thus this is PURE word vomit. LOLZ.
Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish constantly.
Distribution: Just lemme know.

Something that sounded like an explosion roared across the dusty expanse of the empty, jagged-cliff deserts of seireitei, and while most people of sound mind might have automatically taken cover at the sudden blast, the audience of two currently bearing witness to the fantastical display simply winced very slightly when they heard it, otherwise continuing to sit cross-legged on the ground, watching the moonlit display with calm anticipation.

As it was, the ruckus wasn't actually an explosion, but was in fact, an impact— one forceful enough to leave Ikkaku breathless and staggering as he felt the rock face at his back begin to crumble from the force of his body slamming into it. Blood poured from his mouth, dribbling down his chin and staining the front of his uniform.

"I won't go," he snarled, and managed to keep to his feet even as the cliff at his back gave a groaning shudder and shattered into a million magnificent pieces.

Across from him, Zaraki Kenpachi looked on dispassionately. "Prove to me you got any say on what you do or don't do before ya say anything, ya stupid fuck."

"Yes sir." Ikkaku spat on the ground then—thick and red—and moved to charge forward, raising Hozukimaru above his head.

The intense reiatsu swirled angrily about the barren canyon as the combatants clashed head on, their mixed energies stirring up twigs and rocks and causing both to implode into nothingness at the force of their power. Yumichika automatically covered Yachiru's nose and mouth with one sleeve and his own with the other, because breathing dust was almost as unpleasant as having it in your eyes, and while he couldn't do anything about the latter at this point he could at least try and ameliorate the effects of the former. Yachiru strained against his hold regardless, too excited to know what was good for her or what was bad for her in all the excitement.

The pair winced again as Ikkaku was eventually grabbed by the scruff of his neck and slammed forcibly into the ground from twenty feet in the air. The earth shook when he hit, and the oppressive force of his reiatsu dispersed on impact.

Kenpachi chortled, derisively.

"That's the best you can do and you think you're done already? Ain't worth shit," Zaraki grunted, sounding completely unaffected by the results of their battle despite the bleeding gash across his chest, despite the fact that he'd lost the eye patch ages ago.

"I ain't going!" Ikkaku roared again, stubbornly. He forced himself to his feet and glared, even as his knees shook.

Yumichika made a face at how hideous his friend's features were now, all swollen and bloody and misshapen from the beating he'd thus far taken.

"You fuckin' dumbass," Zaraki snarled, wiping his subordinate's blood off of his fingertips, leaving four red streaks right down the dust-covered white of his captain's coat. His eyes were cold as he studied Madarame—unimpressed. "You ain't strong enough to get a say yet."

"Then I ain't strong enough to go, either!" Ikkaku said—almost pleading— and it was all he had just to stay standing at this point.

Zaraki scoffed. "Tch. Ain't learned a thing, have ya?" He sat down then, on the jagged remains of what used to be a rather impressive cliff face. "Still the same weak-assed idiot I ran into all those years ago. Still just a brat, and who the fuck do you think you are, sayin' shit like that when you ain't strong enough?"

"You don't make any sense, taichou!" Ikkaku growled. He forced himself to take a step forward, towards the other shinigami. "Stand up. Goddammit, I ain't dead yet!"

Zaraki didn't stand, because Ikkaku didn't get a say in that either. Not like this. "Same's the same. Still chasin' death like a moron. Still too weak to get what you want for yourself'n hold on to it. And you think you're done? That you can just say so and it's fine?"

Ikkaku gritted his teeth. Took one more step forward. Another, another, another; slowly closing the distance between himself and his captain. He held Hozukimaru's hilt tightly, and still had a thousand things to prove to the man he'd wanted to die serving under.

Zaraki didn't stir from his seat even then, simply eyeing his subordinate wearily as the other death god grew ever nearer. "You got a million miles to go if you think you're fine just like ya are, dumbass."

Ikkaku glared. "I ain't… I ain't…"

And then he collapsed, inches from Zaraki Kenpachi's feet.

When he hit the ground this time, the earth didn't shake.

It felt as if it should have.

His captain only looked down at him, unmoved by the effort. After a moment he sighed and reached down, picked the bald shinigami up by the front of his gi and shook him a little.

To Yumichika and Yachiru, it was a familiar scene—echoes of a lifetime ago.

The exact same thing.

"I already told ya once, didn't I?" Zaraki breathed, looking right into his immobile subordinate's eyes with a frightening, animal sort of calm. "If you're alive, train and fight and get stronger and come back and beat me. And that's when you can do as you damn well please, you stupid fuck. Can stay in any fucking division you want and nobody can stop you like that. But 'til then, you stillain't strong enough to get a say. You ain't done yet."

Ikkaku shuddered, but couldn't speak. Couldn't move.

Zaraki smirked and dropped him in the dirt.

And then he stood, turning his back to the defeated third seat just like that.

"Yachiru."

"Mmm?"

Yumichika removed his sleeve from her nose then, as the filter was no longer needed.

"How'd it look?"

She beamed. "Ken-chan's always right! Not there yet!"

Zaraki grunted. "Let's go."

"'kaaaay!!!!!"

She happily bounded towards the eleventh division captain and lighted upon his shoulder. "That was fun!"

Kenpachi ignored her and turned back towards seireitei. He walked like he hadn't been split down the middle just moments earlier, because as far as he was concerned, he hadn't been. The blood had stopped dripping from his wound ages ago.

Behind him, Ikkaku lay gasping, bleeding, disbelieving.

Yumichika just watched his best friend silently for a little while after that, but found himself growing weary before long as well. He sighed and stood then, the new captain brushing off the back of his long white coat in a perfunctory manner (though the dust really was everywhere) before wordlessly heading back to his own headquarters at the ninth division. He padded after the eleventh division captain and vice-captain pair without a backwards glance at either Ikkaku or the destroyed landscape.

Ikkaku watched them go as he lay on the ground, in the dirt and dark of a silent seireitei desert. He discovered that even when he squinted, he couldn't see them for very long after that. The three of them all eventually disappeared into the distance together, towards the enormous white gates of the court.

He sighed.

When he found the strength to move again—a long, long time later— he staggered to his feet and took a deep breath.

Made up his mind.

And one step at a time, Ikkaku Madarame headed back to the court alone, leaving the devastated, jagged-cliff desert of seireitei behind without another thought.

It took him hours to get there.

But he made it.

And as morning dawned that day in Soul Society, the third division finally had its new captain.

Because Ikkaku recognized that he still had a long way to go.

From here, he would just have to work harder, get stronger, have a say.

Until then he wasn't done yet.

END