Title: A New Day Dawning
Universe: Bleach
Theme/Topic: Dawn
Rating: PG
Character/Pairing/s: Ikkaku,Kira (light Ikkira and Shuumi if you want to see it), Yumichika, Shuuhei, Renji, Iba
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for the SS arc.
Word Count: 1,857
Summary: Kira makes a New Year's resolution—eleventh division style.
Dedication: requested by lykomancer for the quickie New Year's request meme on my lj! Also for swinku, because I can't write Ikkira and not think of you. XD
A/N: I wrote this like, one sentence every ten minutes 'cuz I was watching Chrno Crusade off to the side. But I've been so lazy I'm forcing myself to write despite the fact that all the writing I do will probably be no good until I can find some motivation again.
Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish constantly.
Distribution: Just lemme know.

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The eleventh division New Year's party was—unsurprisingly— not much more than a big, drunken brawl, and while Kira appreciated his friends' attempts to get his mind off of things by insisting he come along with them, he wasn't sure getting drunk and then getting beat up was exactly the cure for his sorrows that he'd been looking for.

But somehow he'd ended up getting a little bit of both anyway, and after Renji and Iba both brawled with some of their old division mates (showing off their pride in their current divisions, apparently), Shuuhei worked up the courage (after three or four drinks to be precise) to challenge Yumichika to a rematch. From there it had been almost inevitable that Ikkaku would grin at the only remaining vice-captain from the party, declaring it was blondie's turn to show them all what the third division was made of.

Not much, Kira feared—especially since Ichimaru had proven himself a traitor, but he'd been a little bit drunk at the time, and maybe that was why he'd stepped forward despite his doubts, some sort of inebriated line of thought telling him that if he could prove he was still strong somehow, that he wasn't a coward, then some of his pride as a shinigami would return and Ichimaru's defection would not continue to taint him as it had.

It was a new year, like Renji had said—the dawn of a fresh beginning.

Maybe it was because Izuru had been a little bit drunk at the time, but at that moment, proving to himself that he was still strong despite how empty he felt had suddenly become very important.

And so he'd accepted Madarame's challenge to fight—because it was the tradition of the eleventh division to fight, to end the year in the very way that they ended their lives: through battle. To them it was the same thing—the coming of the New Year meant the death of the previous year and similarly, it meant the death of the you from yesterday and the birth of the you for tomorrow. The in-between time called New Year's eve was the final window of opportunity through which you could destroy all your regrets and sorrows and grievances (all the things that made you weak) and prepare for the coming year with a fresh slate. So you could face it at your strongest.

All challengers were welcome.

So Shuuhei fought Yumichika, and while he didn't win, he didn't lose exactly either. What he did get was a fight that he himself wanted, that wasn't for Tousen or wasn't for his ideals or wasn't for his duty. A test to see how his own abilities and his own desires held up, without the aid of anyone else behind him—his own strength. He managed to sprain Ayasegawa's wrist and he himself came out of the match with a bloodied lip and an angry looking broken nose, the ninth division vice-captain breathing hard and cursing, stumbling out of the ring when the two combatants were done. It was the only time Kira had seen Hisagi smile since his captain had left.

And Kira accepted Ikkaku's challenge for the same reasons Shuuhei had wanted a rematch maybe, to find a fight of his own and see how he did without his captain there behind him, without the knowledge and certainty that there was someone who was strong that would protect him if things went wrong. Time to destroy those old weaknesses and make a fresh start.

Ikkaku didn't hold back either, and the third seat's raw power was almost enough to overwhelm Izuru. The knowledge that there was no one to save him made him shaky at first, but when Ikkaku laughed at him and shouted, "C'mon, pretty boy, you're lookin' at me like you're gonna piss your pants!" something about the way Ikkaku said it made Izuru irritated, reminded him of all those moments when Ichimaru-taichou used to cup his face and tell him how lovely he was, how it would be a shame for such a beautiful face to be scarred, to be exposed to any sort of danger.

"Let me take care of everything for you, Kira-kun."

No longer the warm memory it had been, instead Izuru felt something angry come over him when he thought about it.

And he punched Ikkaku right in the face.

There was a moment where they both paused at that, Ikkaku clutching his bruised jaw and looking at Kira thoughtfully, Kira blinking and staring at his own fist and wondering where all that force had come from.

And then, Ikkaku smiled. "That's more like it!" he shouted, and punched Kira just as hard as he'd been punched—in the gut this time.

It hurt like hell, but for some reason it made Izuru really happy too, and when he dodged the next punch and head-butted Madarame hard in the chin, he thought he was smiling, because Ikkaku was smiling too, and though it faltered a little the next second when the vice-captain got kicked in the stomach, the feeling of it didn't go anywhere despite the pain.

He could taste blood on the inside of his mouth and one eye was beginning to swell so bad he could barely see out of it by the time they were almost through, but he took pride in the fact that he wasn't the only one. A cut had split open on Ikkaku's brow and blood was dripping down into his eye, and his lip was swollen and bloody. Despite all that every part of the third chair looked like he wouldn't trade any of it for the world. Kira wondered if he looked the same.

He wasn't ever the best when it came to brute strength but he'd always been smart, and so after a series of feints and quick moves to pressure points Izuru managed to knock Madarame over—flat on his back— and before he knew what had happened he was seated on the other shinigami's stomach, breathing hard and grinning and ready to declare that he'd won, that he'd come out on top.

But Ikkaku spoke first, laughed up at the blond, all the while gazing up at him with a mixture of surprise and admiration, their chests heaving as they locked eyes across the small distance between them. "Woah momma," Madarame breathed after a moment, and there was something so intense in his gaze that it made Kira falter momentarily, made him let his guard down for a second, maybe less.

It was all he needed.

Suddenly the world was spinning, turned upside down quick as lighting as he felt himself shoved to the side and then thrown onto his back, a knee pressing down on his gut and a hand wrapped— just tightly enough to be threatening— around his throat. He stared up at the now victorious Ikkaku, bewildered and out of breath. For the first time since the fight began, he registered the ecstatic cheers of their audience.

Ikkaku winked down at him then, blood staining half of his face as he held the startled vice-captain down, none of that admiration from before gone from his expression despite the quick reversal. "You surprised me," he admitted with a low whistle, before shifting his weight back and standing, looking down at Kira and offering a hand up to an admirable opponent.

Kira laughed a little at that—couldn't help it— and took the proffered hand, let himself be pulled to his feet again. When he stood he was wobbly and he couldn't see out of one eye, but when he looked over at Renji, Yumichika, Iba and even Shuuhei, they all looked as impressed as Ikkaku was—like they hadn't expected that from pale, serious Kira Izuru—and after a moment, the four of them all raised their glasses at him.

"How do you feel?" Renji called from across the way, voice loud even amidst the chaos of the eleventh division headquarters.

"I don't know!" Kira said back.

Ikkaku snorted at the blond's indecision. "The same? Different?"

Kira looked at his former opponent then, blinking. "Different, I guess."

The bald shinigami grinned and let go of the vice-captain's hand then, slapped him heartily on the back instead. "Perfect. Happy fuckin' New Year." He guided Kira over to their friends and when the blond looked up at him, he thought that a new beginning was exactly what they all needed.

"Happy New Year," he replied after a moment, and for the first time in a long time, looked forward to tomorrow despite the knowledge that he'd wake up aching all over. At least this time it would be from different kind of pain than the one Ichimaru had left him with, and that thought alone was enough to make any ache besides the one he'd known welcome. They made it to where everyone else was sitting then, and exhausted, Kira gratefully subsided into the seat next to Shuuhei. He could still taste blood in his mouth.

Eying Shuuhei he couldn't help but chuckle, a bit breathlessly. "I must look a mess."

Ikkaku grinned and took a seat across from him. "Ya look great. Better'n Hisagi's ugly mug, anyway."

Kira laughed at that and might have blushed a little bit, feeling warm.

Ikkaku went and got him a drink.

And so they spent the remainder of the evening, deep in their cups and in hands of cards, in some more nameless, faceless brawls or even some familiar ones, through Zaraki's grumbled New Year's toast and Yachiru's much more cheerful one. Those of them still conscious when it came counted down as midnight approached and when it did Yumichika grabbed Shuuhei out of the blue and kissed him hard enough to make his lip start bleeding again (though neither of them complained). Iba braided Renji's hair (poorly, because he was drunk), and Zaraki passed out snoring sometime after three am and his third seventy-to-one blindfolded try-and-punch-taichou's-lights-out free-for-all contest.

The celebration didn't stop there however, and after his fourth or fifth round for the night (while he was leaning—happily buzzed— against Ikkaku's shoulder), Kira thought to himself that maybe tonight could mean the same for him as it did for the rest of eleventh, that it was the death of the old him and the start of the new one. He'd somehow managed to destroy the vast majority of his bitterness after all, to forget his regrets and his uncertainties. They'd made him weak—he'd known that. What he hadn't known was how badly he'd wanted to start off the new year with a clean slate.

How much he wanted to make himself better.

So that the next time he tangled with Ikkaku, he'd definitely be the one who won.

Ikkaku laughed at him when he said as much to the third chair, and thought that it was a good idea. He grinned and promised Kira a rematch—anytime.

Some hours later, a magnificent New Year's sun rose up over a peaceful seireitei and Kira Izuru felt like a whole new man.

END