Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
Chapter One: Firsts
The first time Hitsugaya Tōshirō met Kurosaki Karin, she could not even walk.
Instead she crawled, pushing a diminutive black and white soccer ball with her hand across the soft grass of the large park, following on her hands and knees. Tōshirō watched her approach with expressionless eyes from where he sat on a green park bench.
She was far from the playground where he assumed she should be on the other side of the park, and if he had been in a gigai he would have picked her up and walked her back to her mother or father. He didn't see anyone nearby that could lay claim to the tiny girl with riotous black hair and solemn onyx eyes.
He was partly concerned that if she kept on pushing that ball, she would push it right out onto the busy street behind him with no one to stop her. It annoyed him to realize that if she continued, he'd actually have to act on that vague sense of worry, and he begrudged her for even making him think about helping her out. He idly considered stopping her now, but dismissed the notion as too much effort.
Despite his half-hearted mental attempts to get her to stop, she continued on with a single-minded intensity that nearly had him smiling at her determination. She wasn't mindlessly pushing the ball with no destination in mind; she had a purpose.
"Little girl," he said when she was close enough to hear him, even though he knew she couldn't, "you should go back to the playground." She didn't look up. She paused, pushed the ball slightly, took a few shuffling movements forward, and repeated the process.
He felt some of his (albeit rather incremental) worry dissipate when he noted that she seemed to be aiming for the park bench rather than the open expanse of road. At least then she might simply stop there and not go any farther. It saved him the hassle of actually having to move. She was close enough now that he could have reached down and picked her up. One more push, and the ball stopped mere inches away from his left foot. She shuffled forward a bit more.
Then, to his surprise, she didn't push the ball anymore, but simply sat up a bit and examined the ball where it was. She reached out with one tiny, chubby hand…
…and tugged on the black hakama of his shihakushō.
Tōshirō immediately assumed he had just imagined that she had touched him, but the tug came again, more insistent this time. Wide teal eyes leaned forward to gaze into the dark eyes of a toddler who had no business seeing a Shinigami. He hadn't ever heard of a human this young being able to see a Shinigami, but apparently this one could—in fact, he had never heard of a human who could see a Shinigami at all. Probing, he felt the tiniest spark of Reiryoku—barely enough to even register, but far more than he expected of anyone, much less a toddler.
She tugged again at his hakama, this time looking away from his teal eyes to stare pointedly at her ball before looking imploringly up at him.
"You want me to play?" he interpreted incredulously. She didn't show any sign of understanding him, but Tōshirō chalked that up as her age. She looked to be less than a year old (not that he was a good judge of the age of any child; it was more a rough, instinctual guess).
Hesitantly, he gave a nudge with his toe, kicking the ball forward a few inches. He watched, amazed, as she plopped back down onto all fours and repositioned herself so she was sitting more in front of him than at his side. She then pushed the ball right back into his foot with her hands.
"You know," he said conversationally, now knowing that she could probably hear him if she could see him (even if she might not be able to understand what he was saying), "your mother is probably looking for you."
She was silent, putting her hands out in front of her to stop the ball, albeit a little uncoordinatedly, and then pushing it in his direction. He used his left foot to stop the ball before it rolled too far in the wrong direction, bringing it back in front of him.
"Why'd you wander off, anyway?" She ignored him, pushing the ball back at his waraji with more force than before. He assumed that she hadn't yet mastered the differences in force.
He was relieved that his fukutaichō, Matsumoto Rangiku, had wanted to chase after a Hollow on the other side of the small town, leaving him by himself. He didn't know how he'd respond to her teasing if she discovered her "tiny taichō" (the latest nickname) playing with a baby.
Tōshirō snorted to himself. She'd probably babble on about me finding a girl closer to my height, he thought grumpily, kicking the ball a little bit more forcefully than he had intended. His eyes widened when the ball hit the little girl, missing her outstretched hands and knocking her backwards with a whoosh of exhaled air. Her head hit the ground with a thud.
Leaping up, he crouched next to her, gingerly lifting up her head to make sure he hadn't inflicted any permanent damage. He was amazed at how her tiny head was nearly able to fit in the palm of his hand, further reinforcing the fragility of her human existence. It didn't look like her head had hit particularly hard, but…
"Hey," he said softly, trying to see if her eyes were dilating dangerously. "Are you alright?"
She blinked up at him owlishly with her large, large eyes. It didn't seem like was injured…
Almost as if to prove him wrong, she turned slightly, pressing her face into his tan palm as she rearranged her tiny limbs underneath her body and pushed herself back up. His other hand reached out automatically to steady her slightly unsteady back.
"Easy," he cautioned. "Are you sure you aren't going to cry?"
She stared at him, one hand resting on his knee for balance, her face expressionless. He could almost imagine her saying, Are you serious? Me, cry? It was almost unnerving, seeing such a serious expression on such a young face.
Maybe that's why I always unsettle the unseated Shinigami, Tōshirō mused thoughtfully, seeing now why they'd be so disturbed at a young face not showing many emotions. Not that he had a lot of experience with kids or anything, but he knew that they were supposed to be a lot more emotive that this one was—seeing the blank expression on her face just didn't seem right. All his mental images of toddlers were of crying swaddles of snot and tears, or round, rosy cheeks laughing madly at anything that moved. Obviously he had been wrong.
"You don't smile enough," he informed her, at which she blinked. He imagined the reply as, Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?
Scowling at her imagined reply, he reached over and snagged the soccer ball, placing it in her tiny hands. He helped her balance with his hand at her back and she let go of his knee to take hold of the ball. She looked down at the ball in her hands, almost confused, before she tossed it away in favor of attempting to crawl into his lap.
"Wait a second—" he started to protest, but figured it was quite futile as she continued her ascent until she was comfortably sitting in his lap, tiny hands knotted in his black kosode and gazing up at him, her tiny face inches away from his scowling one.
"I'm not a jungle gym," he mumbled, disgruntled. He conveniently ignored the fact that he could have just as easily displaced her or impeded her climb by not helping her balance on the way up. She blinked again (he was starting to realize that this was her way of responding to him), loosened her small fist, and reached upwards.
She got as far as his ear before her reach ended, and for the first time he saw her expression change to a scowl, minuscule black eyebrows brought together in a fierce glare. He felt his own countenance darken automatically in response.
"What?" he asked defensively, his expression seeming only to anger her further. She grabbed onto the closest thing she could find—his left ear—and jerked downwards.
"Ouch!" he yelped, head automatically dipping to the side as his eyes narrowed. He was half-tempted to tug on her ear and see how she liked it, but he quickly realized that such an action would be quite immature. It was hardly becoming of a Shinigami of his caliber to be mad at a toddler for doing something she probably hadn't even realized had hurt him.
He then discovered that his ear hadn't been her goal: his hair was. She had made a fist out of her tiny hand in the long white locks, and out of the corner of his eye he could see that the miniature scowl on her face had now blossomed into a wide smile with two glints of pearly teeth in the pink gummy depths.
"Like my hair, don't you?" Tōshirō asked, feeling himself soften despite the tight grip on his hair that prevented movement.
"Shirō," she cooed softly, startling him at the clear pronunciation of part of his name, even if she had only been referring to his hair color. He half turned to see her grinning face better.
"That's right," he found himself saying. "Shirō. It's short for Tōshirō."
He could feel Matsumoto's reiatsu nearby, so he reached up and gently removed the tiny hand from his hair, straightening up when he had done so. She had stopped smiling, but now wore a happy expression on her face as her hand curled around his index finger.
"I have to go," he said, gently picking her up and putting her back on the ground. He snagged the ball for her again and put it in her lap, looking up and hoping to see someone coming to claim her. And to his relief, he saw in the distance a tall woman with long light brown hair, half-running and looking a little frantic.
"I think your mother is coming," Tōshirō told the girl, leaning down to meet her face. She once again wore the stoic expression that seemed to be her norm, clutching the ball tightly as she blinked at him.
He stepped away from her and he could see the brown-haired woman catch sight of the girl, hurrying over in a near sprint. Remembering the girl's ability to see him and realizing that she might have gotten that ability from her mother, he masked his reiatsu even further.
"Karin!" the woman cried, scooping up the girl and burying her face in the girl's dark curls. "What did I tell you about wandering away?"
The girl blinked. Tōshirō was immensely relieved to discover that he wasn't the only one she blinked in response to. She squirmed in her mother's arms, trying to turn around to keep him in her sight.
"Shirō," she said again, clearly. Her mother nearly dropped her, she was so startled.
"Karin?" she questioned, as if doubting that she'd heard the tiny voice.
"Shirō," she repeated insistently, trying to get to Tōshirō and dropping the ball in her struggles.
"Your first word…" her mother murmured, watching the tiny girl with awe. Tōshirō felt his own teal eyes widening in response—his name had been this little toddler's first word? Absurdly, he felt a huge wave of pride rush through him at this revelation.
"Shirō!" Karin said impatiently, staring at him and ignoring her mother's shocked expression. It seemed to finally hit the woman that her little girl wasn't just repeating her first word over and over, and she frowned in his general direction, giving him the distinct impression that she was able to see him. He was relieved when she bent down to scoop up the soccer ball.
"Let's go tell Ichigo about your first word!" she exclaimed loudly, spinning around and heading back to the playground on the other side of the park. She had taken all of two steps when she paused, hesitating, and then speaking two words so swiftly that Tōshirō was certain he had imagined them. And then she was bustling off, loudly proclaiming the genius of her "little Karin."
"Taichō!" Matsumoto cried, coming to a stop right next to him and flicking back her long strawberry blonde hair with a hand. "I've taken care of the Hollow, so now we're free to return to the Soul Society!"
He gave a noncommittal grunt, but didn't reply, frowning after the woman and little Karin.
"Taichō?" Matsumoto asked, following his gaze to the pretty woman carrying the small baby. Her voice seemed to startle him out of his reverie because he turned around, walking away from the park.
"Let's go, Matsumoto," he said shortly. Giving a speculative glance back at the woman, she shrugged, turning around and following her taichō.
Tōshirō sighed slightly, mentally answering the woman's last spoken words.
You're welcome.
A/N: Hello there! I'm new to the Bleach fandom and I figured I'd give Tōshirō/Karin a go. So it's up to you to let me know if I got their characterizations correct or not! In this one, I've envisioned Karin at about eight months old, which is right around the time for crawling and first words and such. Ichigo would be about four, and Masaki obviously still alive.
This was edited by the wonderful RukiLex who is doing a fine job at easing me into the fandom. It certainly wouldn't have been this good without her! I encourage you to check out her stories.
The entirety of this fic will be a series of inter-connected oneshots in chronological order, so Karin will certainly be going up in age. It won't be her as an eight-month-old forever.
Thank you for reading!
Roma
