She walks into his office without warning, like she was used to; like she has been doing for the past 12 years since the inexorable sense of death last caressed her features. And along with her abrupt appearance she doesn't introduce herself, because the man behind the desk was sure to know who she was. Who else could come into his office uninvited, without knocking, only to be entirely welcomed? She remembers suddenly, the time when she was sure about the answer. No one. But now the times have changed, things happen, and the answer had someone else's name written all over it. He'd accidentally call her a foreign name once or twice and she wouldn't even bat an eyelash. Now, it has become a habit over the months, like he expects this other person over as company more than her and she doesn't like it. It was betrayal on an one-sided level of unconscious actions. It stung.
"Yo, Tōshirō." A tiny sigh follows her words and he would've heard it if he was paying attention. He wasn't.
She makes sure to speak a greeting before he can incorrectly identify her again. It saves her some time and some heartbreak. She doesn't remember what name he'd mistakenly call her, nor does she want to learn of it.
Karin moves in front of his desk, slowly yet swiftly, faintly noting how his scent of cold nights and windy morning drapes its way onto her form. He doesn't look up from his work, only moving to scribble faster onto the paperwork under his left hand. It was a neat fact she had learned about him years ago, and he had also seemed pleased to learn that she shared the same unique trait. She waits until he finishes and only speaks again after he puts his brushes away.
"How's that paper work treating you?" She says it with a smirk, an expression that screams Karin, hoping he wouldn't notice her inner turmoil. Inside, she congratulates herself for being able to keep her cover on in front of one of the people she was most vulnerable against. It'd be the last time.
The atmosphere his office carried had changed throughout the months. Something of familiarity, playfulness, something of warmth into indifference and distance. It was completely alien to her. She does all she can to return it back to normal while she's in its territory and teasing him used to work, but they seem like strangers now. She isn't as confident in her words and their difference in rank comes to mind. Her shoulders go tense and her toes curl into one another silently. He used to be able to tell when she was uncomfortable. She thinks that he simply doesn't care anymore.
Sighing tiredly, he leans back into his chair and closes his eyes, not even bothering to look up at his guest.
"A delightful surprise indeed. What business do you have here, Karin?" He asks this with the usual bored tone of his. It was his business voice, strictly professional. She had slowly accepted the fact it was now the only tone he'd use with her.
Nevertheless, her heart glows at the sound of her name swimming off his tongue. It disappoints her too. Who was he now to be able to change her mood completely with only a whisper of her name?
"It's nice to know you actually remember my name this time, Tōshirō."
She knows the jab at his recent mistakes would hurt her more than it would him, but she says it anyway, in hopes he'd try to prove her wrong. Failure. He's completely unperturbed, his eyelids still drooping heavily over his cold eyes, and so she continues.
"I came to beg for your company, oh wise one." Her mask is on once again, and she can't help but smile bitterly, knowing that he'd fall for it like he did countless times before. "Poor Karin is lonely, and she has come to seek your presence at dinner this evening." She tries to brush off her embarrassment with a teasing tone but nothing could stop the shame coursing through her veins. The lowest of the low and she wonders why she chooses to come back, repeating the same request over again each time. It's nothing romantic, nothing intimate. There was no such thing as love and no such thing as affection. No, it was nothing like that. In the past, it could've been but nowadays that was an impossibility that she wasn't sure she wanted anymore. Months ago she stopped caring and started just appreciating the little time she spent with him. This would be the last time, she had decided, because really, enough is enough and she's tired.
She knows his answer by the look on his face, so she cuts in before he needs to speak.
"Sorry, I'm really busy. Maybe next time, Karin." She tries her best to mock his unique tone and significantly deeper sound. Somewhere inside her, she knew that this was going to happen. Nothing would change, and unsurprisingly he wouldn't notice. She would simply stop embarrassing herself, and he may even feel relief, tired of repeating the same rejection again and again. There would be no anger, no lingering feelings because he had frozen them over with a turn of his head long ago and she had nothing to say to that. She no longer wanted to try.
"Yeah, yeah. I know Tōshirō." She turns around with a small flick of her wrist and a slight wiggle of fingertips as a farewell. She says nothing more as she makes her way to the door; a clean farewell that wouldn't be able to hurt her anymore.
"Wait, Karin."
And as much as she hates it, she feels every bone in her body ignite in flames. For what reason, who knows? Her footsteps halt at the smooth crisp sound of his voice and she wishes for the strength to continue her journey out. Ah, of course. How stupid of her to think that something involving them could ever end clean and quietly. No, there would be a mess at the end, and this time no one would be there to clean it up.
"What is it, Tōshirō?" Her voice is steady, even as her insides clawed into her and shrieked for her to leave; to forget what he needs to say. She stays anyway.
Silence reigns its power on them and her mind recedes into a corner. Her fingers scratch at her arms and she just can't wait to get out of there.
"Are you okay?"
A pause. On any other day she would have replied with a scoff and a comment on his dark circles, or his pale face. She would play the part of Karin, that rough teenage girl who possessed a tongue way too sharp for her status, and treated sarcasm like her salvation. But she had decided, way before she stepped into this room, that this time would be the last and she just couldn't bring herself to answer that question. It made it sound like he was entirely fine with their current situation and no, that's not what she wanted to believe. When did their friendship get like this, and why did they just allow it to happen? When did they stop laughing and when did everything start to mean nothing? Questions she thought she had long disposed of came rushing into her head. She continues on her way out. He doesn't say a word to stop her, or maybe she doesn't care enough to listen. Why was she the only one trying to save them, or whatever was left of them? No more, she tells herself, because if he was fine with letting her go for whatever reason, she could do it too. There was always a little confusion left over, the thought of "why?" as its origin. There had been no dramatic fight, nor any warning of what was to come. They had simply grown apart. It didn't matter now how "strong" their friendship had been in the past or what memories that they shared. Everything could go to the fire and there would be no one left to mourn the loss. What once was is no longer, and she's surprised to find herself completely fine with the outcome. It was expected. She closes the doors to his office without turning back, and she's sure that he does not call out to her.
She's fine. People move on and some things are just not meant to be saved.
Karin finds herself walking down the halls of the tenth division later that night with nowhere to go.
(a/n): something that has been sitting around for way too long. i seem to be really bad at saving my friendships, and it's sad but what can ya' do? i feel bad for ending my first hitsukarin story (first story overall; cheers!) not-so-happily. not quite satisfied with how this turned out either; please review!