sorries - i cursed a lot in this chappy. i dunno why, i was in a swearing mood.

Day Seven

scars

My head hurts. Ever since Hanatarou's visit yesterday, I've been feeling the most fatigued since I've been here. It's not easy for me to hold back the few tears that escape my eyes, and at this point, I've stopped fighting them. I'd probably be bawling right now, if I wasn't so tired.

The truth is, I have been thinking about him since our tense conversation yesterday. Hell, I've probably been thinking about Ichigo for a while now, but his constant presence was so natural during my time in his world, that I didn't have to resort to my memories to get my fill. I do not deny myself the truth.

I miss Ichigo.

He is an ass, at times, stubborn to a tee. His temper is maddening; it's like talking to freight train speeding off in only one direction. Always yelling, like the volume button in his brain is broken. He's boring, never did anything after school. Scowls, irritatingly prude, stand off-ish, skeptical. He never smiles.

But when he does...

I trail my hands over my eyes, press on my forehead, then run them through my hair, as if purging the images and thoughts from my head. I can't think about Ichigo that way, just because I'd never survive my time in prison. Just like my time in his world, thoughts of that carrot top will only drive me crazy.

I don't know exactly how I feel about him, I just feel. Like Ichigo, he just does.

It's not...that...and I definitely don't hate him. It's more like we are two people thrust together in a ruthless, unforgiving, but indiscriminate twist of fate, changing our lives forever.

Not much of a fucking fairy tale, but it's our story, and I wouldn't change it for the world. No regrets.

I can't help the smile that crosses my face.

That's what we agreed on: no regrets. He does his thing, I do mine; we work together. He scowls, I bark orders; he's tall, I'm short. Unlike him, I don't have anything on me as a memento, but at least I have these memories. Like a scar on my heart, Ichigo impacted my life, I won't deny that, but I also won't let it show. Cherish them, curse them, laugh until the tears come...lie to myself and say that I ruined his life.

He'd probably yell at me if he heard me talking like that anyway.

I laugh darkly, then roll on my side, hoping that sleep will take me quickly. In the least, if anything really is scarred, it's definitely my heart.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Ichigo groaned; for some reason, that didn't sound right to him. For the last twenty minutes, Rukia looked at her body as she twirled around, posed, ran her hands through her hair, and just played around in front of the full-length mirror he installed for her after she punched him, saying that it was written in every girl's genetic code that she needed a mirror in her room. He'd never admit it to anyone, but for the last 19 minutes, Ichigo just stared at her from across the room while she did that, completely mesmerized by her actions. The same page of his manga sat open on his lap, but Ichigo struggled to concentrate on it. Every fluttering of fabric, toss of her raven locks, and caressing of her body irritated Ichigo to no end, and his head felt so hot that he'd just erupt like a volcano with a nosebleed any second.

"Tatsuki told me that there are lotions you can use on your scars so they'll disappear over time," Rukia continued on. She marveled at her new favorite purple dress, her latest purchase after an afternoon of shopping with the girls. It was sleeveless, the neckline in front dipped low in a V-shape, lined with stiff ruffles, but her favorite part was how the pleating of the skirt folded itself in perfect sections around her thighs, poofy enough to give off the illusion of hips and light enough to twirl effortlessly around her legs. She paused in her self-absorbed dancing to look at her chest; if only she was as blessed as Inoue in that area, then maybe she'd look more like a girl without having to dress so girly. It was difficult running in dresses, and she preferred the comfort of her Shinigami robes any day. Maybe Rukia would have an easier time getting along with the opposite sex instead of trying to prove herself as an equal within their ranks. Rukia cocked her head to the side once more, and with her eyes lingering on a single spot just below her collarbone, she quickly decided that fighting was more fun.

Rukia gave Ichigo a sideways look and put a hand on her hip, jutting it out like the models did in the magazines. "You're a boy, Stupid Head, you've gotta have at least one scar, right?"

He frowned at her, but quietly nodded. In his head, he wished she'd take her one person fashion show somewhere else...preferably, Mars. Pursing her lips, Rukia turned around so her backside faced the mirror and looked over her shoulder with a shocked look on her face. "Oh my, Kami!"

"What?" Ichigo gritted from between his teeth.

"Is this a space dress?!"

He flinched a bit. How the hell would he know anything about fashion?! "What the fuck is a space dress?"

"Cause my ass...it's outta this world!"

Rukia's laughter filled his room, and Ichigo closed his eyes to try to block the infuriatingly melodious sound teasing his brain. In the darkness, he clearly saw Rukia's form, dancing happily in his mind. He didn't notice when she bounded across his room and flopped next to him on the bed. Instinctively, Ichigo tucked his knees into his chest, desperately trying to create further distance between their bodies. He felt the electricity when she slapped his knee. "Come on Grumpy, I'm just joking around. Why are you so moody today?"

He watched her, his mouth only pressed into a straight line, amazed that even dead Shinigami a century-and-a-half old still had the same interest and just as appeased as regular high school girls with shopping. And he silently thanked Inoue and the girls for taking Rukia off his hands for the afternoon, and bringing her back in good spirits. No one ever specified that he'd have to endure shopping with Rukia when he agreed to take up Shinigami duties, and there was no way in hell he'd even try.

"Stuuuuupid..." Rukia sang.

"Yeah, I got some scars," Ichigo huffed back. He instantly regretted his snappy response when Rukia jumped back, but her mood didn't waver. She leaned closer towards him, although keeping the general distance between them.

"Let me see some and tell me how you got them!"

Ichigo perked an eyebrow when he saw her apparent interest, but her gaze remained, fully intent on him. He pointed a long finger at his chin, and upon closer inspection, Rukia could see a long, thin scar that ran vertically to the underside of his jawline. "Karate fight against Tatsuki."

"She won, huh?"

"We don't talk about it." Ichigo reached down to roll up his right pant leg. He had a good-sized scar along his shin, the slightly pink ripple along his pale chicken leg. "I used to play soccer with Karin a few years ago. She accidentally kicked my shin, splitting the plastic guard which scratched me."

"Soccer?" asked Rukia.

He nodded. "It's a sport, with the white and black ball you kick around with your feet. Sacca."

"Oh yeah, I know Ichi-baka!" she replied happily. Rukia smiled at him with that annoyingly sweet expression, as if permitting him to continue, but Ichigo let a silence pass over them.

"It's your turn, and I believe that I'm already two up on you, Stumps."

Rukia's smile faded, but at least her mood didn't turn into that like a feral cat. Staying true to their deal, Rukia swung her left leg over the length of the bed, and pointed at a patch of skin that had the tell-tale pink tint of scarred skin with a few raised bumps. "I was running through Rukongai when I tripped on something, sliding along the dirt ground and scraping my entire leg. This is what was left after I healed." She then lifted her left arm, showing him the underside of her forearm. A long scar ran along the length, somewhat jagged and unexpectidedly rigid along her soft skin. "I fell from a tree. I used this arm to brace myself, and the bone popped right out."

Ichigo's eyebrows told her that he was somewhat impressed by her story. Since she was on a roll, without thinking, Rukia pushed aside the right side of her dress neckline, revealing the fleshy area underneath her milky white collarbone marred by a tiny thin scar. She froze once she realized she was almost offering herself to Ichigo, and with much more slower actions, Rukia covered herself once again, a bright red heat washing all over her body. "I, uhm...I got that when I was sparring at the academy. I was pierced with the tip of a zanpakuto."

Ichigo sat silently, enduring the rising temperatures in his cheeks. He kept staring at the intruding purple fabric, remembering the inviting patch of skin, but then averted his eyes to the side, gazing out of the window. He tried to think of other things (nuns, football, Antartica...old lady nuns playing football in Antartica with penguin referees), Rukia's voice barely reaching his brain.

"Ichigo," she repeated. Rukia smiled a bit timidly at him, but it still radiated a comfortable warmth.

He blushed when their eyes met. Rukia's action wasn't too graphic or obscene in any way, but he felt so strange at the moment. In fact, it was what he wasn't feeling that made Ichigo think he was a stranger in his own body. He wasn't embarrassed in the least but...something else. And Rukia kept smiling at him. "What?" he mumbled softly.

"Do you have any more scars? Any more battle wounds, cause I'm all out," she said. Rukia took in an extra long breath.

The silence took over the room, but their eyes never wandered. Rukia felt the weight of his amber eyes piercing her, but she welcomed it. She wasn't about to be the first person to look away, and a smile crossed her face. But she didn't know what to say.

Ichigo reached up to unbutton his uniform shirt. His fingers deftly opened each closure, slowly loosening his shirt, revealing the defined muscles of his shoulders and upper chest. His eyes never left Rukia's. Ichigo pulled aside the collar, revealing three parallel gashes on the front of his shoulder. It looked like it pained him to see it. "That bastard gave them to me. When he killed my mother." Ichigo looked out the window while his hand fell away, and Rukia's smile disappeared. She listened to him, obviously understanding it was a difficult subject for him, especially when the other day, Ichigo faced the hollow that took away the pillar of his life. "I blacked out. When I woke up, her body was on top of mine, but it was cold. There was blood everywhere. I didn't realize some of it was my blood until my Dad got me and patched up my shoulder. Shitty job he did, huh?"

"Your Dad loves you, and he's funny. I'm sure he understands your pain, Ichigo."

He shrugged. "Yeah whatever. You know not all scars are physical ones."

Rukia saw the sorrow settle in the once sunny pools of his eyes. She instantly regretted starting their game, being too wrapped up in silly things of a teenager's life like shopping and gossiping, and the icy resolve of a trained Shinigami returned to her. "I'm sorry Ichigo," she whispered and stood on her feet to go into the comfort of her closet.

Ichigo, however, reached out and grabbed her wrist. The heaviness in his eyes seemed to have washed away once his hand touched her. "I have one more," said Ichigo, and he pointed to his chest, in the middle of where his shirt still lay open, presenting the smooth muscles to her. Daring to look down, Rukia swallowed the lump in her throat and her eyes traveled down his toned body, her heart suspiciously pounding against her ribs. In the middle of his chest sat a thick, protruding scar only two inches long. Her lips parted, the foreign mark calling out to Rukia.

"You see one night, this crazy bitch came into my house and said that if I wanted to save my family, I had to shove a big ass sword into my chest. I thought I've been dreaming since that night, but I see this scar, and I know it's real."

Ichigo let go of her hand, but Rukia reached out and ran her fingers along the line, making Ichigo shiver under her touch. Her eyes finally connected with his. "I can heal that if you want."

He shook his head, taking her fingers in his hand firmly. "No. This one is my favorite."

Rukia stared at him with serious eyes. She needed to know. "No regrets?"

"None," he replied flatly before getting up from his bed and passing her, moving the length of the room in a few easy strides. Ichigo's fingers closed his shirt while his back was turned to her, and he looked over his shoulder with the hint of a grin playing on his face. "And I like the dress, Stumps. We should go out so you can show it off."

Her head slightly buzzing, Rukia just nodded and smiled back at him. Instead of following him, she stepped into the closet so she could change, lay down to compose herself, and admire her dress while thinking of places she could make Ichigo take her.

A/N: Rukia's outfit inspired by Bleach art from the 2008 calendar. and i was looking up whether they say "football" or "soccer" in Japan...and a website told me they say "sacca", which i thought was the worst attempt at phonetic spelling turned fact. yeaaah...