Background
That day Ikkaku whispered in awe as he watched Captain Komamura take out the Arrancar he had been fighting changed him. And then the words of wisdom, though the Eleventh Divisioner hated to admit it, struck a chord. Yet for some time he refused to listen, being the stubborn kind of guy he was. Days dragged on in which he was busy running around doing this and that, training members of his squad. When he finally got around to training himself he felt at a loss. How did he get stronger without having to reveal his secret? How did he kick some tail without letting his division down? Would he even be letting them down?
Of course he would be. They didn't see war and battle like the rest of the Gotei 13. Eleven's fought to the end and enjoyed it. They didn't show weakness. But. . .Ikkaku thought he was weak. Who was he to hold the third chair in the greatest division if he couldn't even fight an Arrancar without his bankai? He was no one. He had to work harder, he told himself. Train until he bled from all pores. It was suicidal, yes, but he had no other choice. Houzukimaru gave him no options, no advice. The lazy ass. Ingrate. Didn't give a damn if he or his master lived or died. One day, during a calming meditation out in the middle of Rukongai (Ikkaku wanted to be completely alone and at peace) Houzukimaru spoke.
You've got to tell them, he said in his calm tone of voice. Ikkaku merely looked at the creature whom he saw in his mind, they standing in the middle of nowhere. There was aged grass and fallen rock; the remains of a great city turned in to a battle field. Demolished. I can't, argued Ikkaku. By the time his Zanpakutou had spoken nearly eight months had gone by. Almost a whole year since that dreaded event at Karakura had come to pass and he felt, personally, like he had done nothing. Ikkaku no longer could tell if he was getting stronger or not--he was losing his grip on reality. It pissed him off to no end that he was like this, though he tried hard to not show it. More than likely Yumichika knew. That guy seemed to know everything, and considering he already knew of the skill it would only be so long before he saw Ikkaku internally beating himself up. Kenpachi could figure it out easily, should they ever spar. Ikkaku was clearly off his game.
I can't tell them. You don't understand. Houzukimaru stared down on his master with brilliant yellow eyes that burned like a fire in the night. You must. Ikkaku, you can't possibly think they will remove you from the division because you are strong.
Angry, Ikkaku did not let the creature finish. Instead, in his rage, he swore before shouting, 'Course they'll remove me! They'll want to make me Taichou! He huffed and shook his head. I don't want to serve anyone but Zaraki-taichou, you know that. This time it was Houzukimaru's turn to become angry. Rarely did the two get like this and, should they, it would have been comical could anyone else see them. As it was, not a soul but Ikkaku's could witness this conversation that had turned in to a shouting match.
What is more important here, Ikkaku? Your pride or your people? You cannot get stronger by practicing like this. You are holding back, which is why it has become difficult. I allowed you to achieve bankai because I thought you were better than this. I thought you would make the right decision. The spirit sounded very upset and all Ikkaku could do was look down in shame. Houzukimaru was right. He was holding back even when he stood by himself in the middle of a training ground. Iba had said the same thing once before.
Hands coming up to his head, Ikkaku shook the feeling of self loathing away. Fine. . .Heh, get ready to get off your ass. We have work to do.
And so he trained with shikai until he felt the perfect moment to bring about his bankai. It felt so amazing to hold all of that raw energy. The strange thing about Ikkaku's bankai was that it gave him no special trait or ability, as far as any of the few to know about it knew. The new weapon seemed to be it, as well as an arsenal of superhuman strength. Nonetheless, those blades were sharp and crushing. Heavy.
Several more months came to pass in which he continued to practice, to train himself to be better. He'd return some nights to the compound with bruises and bleeding only to turn down all questions. "Training exercise," was all he would give away. How mysterious. But what hurt him more than the physical wounding was the mental barrage he inflicted upon himself. Still he refused to tell Kenpachi. Whenever he saw Yumichika, Iba, or Renji, he looked at them differently. He looked at them, not with fear, but anxiety. Would they ask him about it today or tomorrow? What if it accidentally slipped. And then when Houzukimaru grew impatient with him, another uncommon occurrence, Ikkaku would tell him "not yet, it's not time yet."
He was stalling.
Ikkaku continued to refuse to share his secret with his captain, or any captain. He wouldn't be surprised one day if he was confronted. Iba said it was obvious. Renji was a big-mouth. Yumichika was. . .well, he trusted Yumichika not to say anything. While it was correct that none of these men had said anything in the past, the days of hardship were dragging on. Aizen might not be doing anything yet, but the day would come. It had to. A man that intent on power and rule did not lie. He sat and waited for the right opportunity to come along.
With all of that said, Madarame continues to drag his feet on the subject. The Gotei was in need of several captains. They'd have to fill it with him. He was eligible! If only the Eleventh weren't filled with stubborn men and women who were driven toward one goal. Though deep down Ikkaku knew what was right, he was scared. So two years finally passed on and he hated himself for it, but most days were spent in his usual daily activity. The life of a chair head was never done. Never dull. At least that kept him busy and the thought off of his mind. He may have gone insane otherwise.
Of course he would be. They didn't see war and battle like the rest of the Gotei 13. Eleven's fought to the end and enjoyed it. They didn't show weakness. But. . .Ikkaku thought he was weak. Who was he to hold the third chair in the greatest division if he couldn't even fight an Arrancar without his bankai? He was no one. He had to work harder, he told himself. Train until he bled from all pores. It was suicidal, yes, but he had no other choice. Houzukimaru gave him no options, no advice. The lazy ass. Ingrate. Didn't give a damn if he or his master lived or died. One day, during a calming meditation out in the middle of Rukongai (Ikkaku wanted to be completely alone and at peace) Houzukimaru spoke.
You've got to tell them, he said in his calm tone of voice. Ikkaku merely looked at the creature whom he saw in his mind, they standing in the middle of nowhere. There was aged grass and fallen rock; the remains of a great city turned in to a battle field. Demolished. I can't, argued Ikkaku. By the time his Zanpakutou had spoken nearly eight months had gone by. Almost a whole year since that dreaded event at Karakura had come to pass and he felt, personally, like he had done nothing. Ikkaku no longer could tell if he was getting stronger or not--he was losing his grip on reality. It pissed him off to no end that he was like this, though he tried hard to not show it. More than likely Yumichika knew. That guy seemed to know everything, and considering he already knew of the skill it would only be so long before he saw Ikkaku internally beating himself up. Kenpachi could figure it out easily, should they ever spar. Ikkaku was clearly off his game.
I can't tell them. You don't understand. Houzukimaru stared down on his master with brilliant yellow eyes that burned like a fire in the night. You must. Ikkaku, you can't possibly think they will remove you from the division because you are strong.
Angry, Ikkaku did not let the creature finish. Instead, in his rage, he swore before shouting, 'Course they'll remove me! They'll want to make me Taichou! He huffed and shook his head. I don't want to serve anyone but Zaraki-taichou, you know that. This time it was Houzukimaru's turn to become angry. Rarely did the two get like this and, should they, it would have been comical could anyone else see them. As it was, not a soul but Ikkaku's could witness this conversation that had turned in to a shouting match.
What is more important here, Ikkaku? Your pride or your people? You cannot get stronger by practicing like this. You are holding back, which is why it has become difficult. I allowed you to achieve bankai because I thought you were better than this. I thought you would make the right decision. The spirit sounded very upset and all Ikkaku could do was look down in shame. Houzukimaru was right. He was holding back even when he stood by himself in the middle of a training ground. Iba had said the same thing once before.
Hands coming up to his head, Ikkaku shook the feeling of self loathing away. Fine. . .Heh, get ready to get off your ass. We have work to do.
And so he trained with shikai until he felt the perfect moment to bring about his bankai. It felt so amazing to hold all of that raw energy. The strange thing about Ikkaku's bankai was that it gave him no special trait or ability, as far as any of the few to know about it knew. The new weapon seemed to be it, as well as an arsenal of superhuman strength. Nonetheless, those blades were sharp and crushing. Heavy.
Several more months came to pass in which he continued to practice, to train himself to be better. He'd return some nights to the compound with bruises and bleeding only to turn down all questions. "Training exercise," was all he would give away. How mysterious. But what hurt him more than the physical wounding was the mental barrage he inflicted upon himself. Still he refused to tell Kenpachi. Whenever he saw Yumichika, Iba, or Renji, he looked at them differently. He looked at them, not with fear, but anxiety. Would they ask him about it today or tomorrow? What if it accidentally slipped. And then when Houzukimaru grew impatient with him, another uncommon occurrence, Ikkaku would tell him "not yet, it's not time yet."
He was stalling.
Ikkaku continued to refuse to share his secret with his captain, or any captain. He wouldn't be surprised one day if he was confronted. Iba said it was obvious. Renji was a big-mouth. Yumichika was. . .well, he trusted Yumichika not to say anything. While it was correct that none of these men had said anything in the past, the days of hardship were dragging on. Aizen might not be doing anything yet, but the day would come. It had to. A man that intent on power and rule did not lie. He sat and waited for the right opportunity to come along.
With all of that said, Madarame continues to drag his feet on the subject. The Gotei was in need of several captains. They'd have to fill it with him. He was eligible! If only the Eleventh weren't filled with stubborn men and women who were driven toward one goal. Though deep down Ikkaku knew what was right, he was scared. So two years finally passed on and he hated himself for it, but most days were spent in his usual daily activity. The life of a chair head was never done. Never dull. At least that kept him busy and the thought off of his mind. He may have gone insane otherwise.