STOP ME WHEN YOU'VE HAD ENOUGH

Aha, That's It

Ichigo turns the faucet to hot in the shower, and quickly stumbles back to avoid getting sprayed in his clothes. God, he didn't realize how sore he was until now. He feels awful. He runs a hand through his hair as he listens to what his body is trying to tell him. It's so hard to ignore the stiffness of his hair from the blood of fallen Espada, but he manages anyway.

Peeling off blood soaked clothes is the most surreal feeling. As he kicks off his sandals and pulls off his socks, he gets lost in his thoughts. He doesn't how much longer he can do this. How much more killing will he have to do before he can save Rukia? Before he can't save himself?

There is movement caught in the corner of his eye. He glances over, sees a mirror, and his gut drops. What the fuck is he looking at? Is that supposed to be him? How did he not notice? He approaches his reflection like he's wary prey. The edges of the mirror are already fogging up, so he gives himself a fast once over. Oh god. Now he knows what Shiro truly meant by acceptance.

There's a gaping hole in his chest like Shiro's. Thick, bold markings cross over his chest from the Hollow hole and disappear behind his shoulders. He does an awkward turn to see where the marks go. Apparently right back to the Hollow hole from the back. His face has similar markings, but they're limited to a vertical line for an eye each going down his face. He rinses his hands of red, and moves his hair out of the way to see how far up the lines go. Only to his hairline from the looks of it.

What else is different about him? He doesn't have a mask fragment like the rest of the Arrancar. His eyes are yellow, but his sclera is still white. He doesn't have the long horns like Shiro. What about his teeth? He pulls out his lips, and gawks at his sharp teeth. They more or less look the same but with an added point. It's actually a little scary looking. His nails are also black. He couldn't see that when the blood was there. His hair is a little longer, too. Not a shit ton like Shiro's, but long enough to tie up.

How did Ichigo not notice this? He supposes he briefly felt the change before he entered his mindscape. The phantom pains of his dislocated joints are still here. What was that shit about? He'll probably figure it out later. Fuck, let's just take this shower first, he tells himself.

He steps into the shower again, this time in the nude, and closes the door behind him. As soon as the hot water hits him, dried and/or sticky blood begins to roll off of him with the rest of the water. He puts his hands out in front of him and leans on the wall under the shower head. The hot water burns into his entire back side from his head to ass.

Ichigo stays there for a while. Longer than intended, in fact. He comes out of his daze to reach for the shampoo. He scratches and claws through his hair, not so much to wash his hair, but to rid himself of the blood. So much blood. The loofa and body wash are next, and Ichigo scrubs violently at the disgusting feeling of murder across his skin. He scrubs and scrubs and scrubs, and yet he can still feel the blood cling to him like the strong odor of a corpse.

Monster. Monster. Monster. MonsterrRrrRRrrRrr...

He gives up. Maybe the feeling will go away. Maybe it won't. Who knows? Not him, that's for sure, but he's tired of trying to wash the blood off his hands. He's so fucking sick of the shit he has to do to get by. He needs to come up with a better plan because this isn't working. He's going to fall apart if he doesn't come up with something.

There's an urgent knock at the door. He sighs and shuts the water off. Great, now he has to tell his friends that Aizen fucked him up more than he already was. He's really not looking forward to that.

"Coming!" He calls.

His voice is still hoarse as shit. At least his body feels a little better after the shower. He cracks the glass door open and snatches a towel off the rack on the glass wall. He shakes the water out his hair with the towel before drying the rest of himself off. He steps out of the shower and onto the cold tile with the realization that he never grabbed clothes.