In case you didn't see my edit in the last chapter: Thank you so much, Hakkuchi-chan, for catching my mistake. Yup, since Karin is deaf, she can't talk on the phone. I meant text, and I've fixed that now. Once again, thank you!
Phew, I managed to get this done. It is, without a doubt, the longest chapter I've ever written - over 8,000 words! Really, it's a miracle that I wrote it in only a week and a half. Well, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its characters.
No matter how much they ask, he refuses to let either Matsumoto or Karin know the exact events that transpired between the two gentlemen in his dressing room. Karin applies fresh bandages to his wound, informing him that, fortunately, it has not reopened, but, unfortunately, he must wear it on stage, against Matsumoto's initial wishes. Though she hardly seems concerned about that as they follow him out of the room, badgering him with questions. But when he reaches the side of the stage, he only gazes at them coldly.
"If you'll excuse me," he says curtly, cutting across their inquiries, "I have a recital to perform."
Before anyone can object, he pushes his way past them, heading out to stand center stage, where they can hardly follow. The polite applause immediately begins, and he bows respectfully before seating himself on the piano bench. Ignoring the heated gazes he can feel trained on him from backstage, he lets his fingers fly over the keys soon after. The audience settles into their seats, ready to enjoy the lulling sounds of the instrument and his skillful technique.
But both Matsumoto and Karin see it almost instantly – his shoulders are tense and, though his fingers flow nimbly and quickly over the keys, his arms remain rigid as he changes position constantly. His brow remains scrunched in concentration, which alarms them greatly; his face has always been completely smooth and stoic when playing, part of the reason why his performances always seem effortless and more majestic. So, they know from the very beginning that something is wrong.
He is still blazingly furious on the inside.
"His playing is different now," Matsumoto tells Karin after catching her attention with a nudge, acting the most serious she has ever been around the young woman. Karin bites her lip, unable to experience it firsthand as there are no speakers near by because she had not wanted to leave his side to go to her seat. So, she instead urges the busty woman to continue with her observations, staring at her lips apprehensively. "More...quick, as if he's anxious. We know he's angry, and so he's pressing the keys harder than he did during practice. This song is supposed to be light and happy – he wrote it right after meeting you, after all." She grins, momentarily distracted but instantly somber once again.
"But if he continues this way," Karin continues slowly, finishing her thought, "it'll only ever convey anger." Matsumoto's response is to press her lips into a thin line.
Karin looks out onto the stage worriedly, concern etched into every outline of her face.
.. ღ ..
The audience notices a change too, at some point, though it takes them a considerably longer time. Those who have heard the song before begin to murmur, confused by the sudden animosity in the sounds that were once so soothing. Some shift in their seats uncomfortably. When the composition ends, they only clap because of expected manners, some still gazing at the musician warily, unsure of what is coming next.
He sighs deeply on stage. Of course, he himself had heard the sudden and hostile change in his sound. And yet, he cannot make himself simmer down, to stop this strange wrath that seems to be engulfing him, taking over his actions. A little helplessly, he glances to the stage curtains, and accidentally makes eye contact with Karin.
She looks slightly taken aback as their gazes meet, only blinking at him for a moment. But then, obviously unable to let things be the way they are, she holds her hands in front of her.
He watches in bemusement as they rise, palms up, with her shoulders, and drop, palms down, with her shoulders. It seems absolutely absurd, until he catches sight of her heaving chest and the 'o' shape of her mouth, and he pieces it all together.
Deep breaths, she is advising him. Calm down.
Unable to help the smirk on his face, he follows along with her breathing, his grin widening as he feels himself begin to relax, ever so slightly. It is as if they are the only ones in the theater – no audience members judging him, no Matsumoto biting her nails anxiously. As he focuses only on her, forces himself to think of no one but her – even the despicable man he has just attacked leaves his mind – he feels his anger dissipate.
The two continue their small and secret act until the scattered applause of his audience members finally ends. He lifts his large hands to the keys once again, finally tearing his gaze away from the smiling and encouraging face in the shadows backstage.
His shaky start is all but forgotten soon enough as he strikes a soothing melody with his feather light fingers. Remembering to breathe deeply now and then keeps him calm, and his playing reflects. The audience smiles, settling down once again and enjoying this new piece.
Karin turns to Matsumoto for feedback.
"Much better," she assures her, smiling slyly at the memory of their cute little exchange.
As the song comes to a close, Toushiro looks up from his piano, locking eyes with her once again. 'Thank you,' he mouthes discretely in her direction, and continues to do so at the finale of every composition. After six more 'thank yous', he finally stands from his bench, bows to the clapping, and briskly walks backstage.
.. ღ ..
Both Karin and Matsumoto beam at him upon his arrival and clap his back in encouragement. He looks over to his proud fan – the only one who matters – and raises an eyebrow.
"You're welcome," she finally answers him, and he nods in return.
"Good job, Karin-chan!" his manager squeals, boisterously hugging the poor woman.
"Karin?" he questions, cocking an eyebrow. "Wasn't I the one who just played a recital to a live audience?"
Matsumoto winks over at him, still clutching a struggling Karin to her bosom.
"Yes, but if not for our dear Karin-chan's help, you would have made a complete mess of things. I told you you needed more practice, didn't I?"
He rolls his eyes at her scolding, striding over to the two of them and gently prying Karin free from her choke hold – it seems like his official job now, playing keep away with the two of them. She gasps loudly as she is freed, patting her chest slightly to reassure herself.
"Karin-chan, you were amazing," his childhood neighbor praises, locking her hands behind her back and leaning forward. "Able to calm Shiro-chan like that."
"It's Hitsu -"
"It wasn't very difficult," Karin rebukes. "I've never been good at calming people, only riling them up. Yuzu is good at it, though, so I just did what she does with a hysterical patient."
The orange top bursts out laughing, throwing her head back, and Karin smirks, pointedly ignoring his gaze. He scowls at the side of her head, not sure how he feels about being compared to a mentally unstable visitor to a hospital.
"Excuse us," a soft voice interrupts them. He and Matsumoto snap to attention, swirling around to the source, and Karin follows suit in her confusion at their sudden action. All three find themselves peering at a strange, unknown newcomer; a stoic man dressed in a pressed suit, his hands hanging stiff and straight at his sides. Despite the gray hairs covering his head, he looks young, only a few wrinkles under his eyes disrupting the otherwise smoothness of his face. There is a powerful aura radiating from him – this is, no doubt, a wealthy man with great influence.
When he hears Matsumoto gasp, he has his suspicions, and they are soon confirmed when their visitor holds out a hand in greeting. "Hello, Hitsugaya-san. I am Ayane Hibiki, owner and founder of Ayane Records, the music company."
He reaches out to meet his handshake, and is surprised by the firmness of his grip.
"Ayane-san," he replies, bowing respectfully to the elder in addition to the handshake. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Likewise," Ayane returns formally, breaking the grip to return to his professionally poised stature. "I would like to extend my congratulations on a wonderful and very enjoyable performance tonight."
"Thank you, sir," he replies graciously, inclining his head in acknowledgement and waiting to hear the rest of his words.
"I was very impressed by your playing tonight," the man adds, his straight face and voice not changing, even during a compliment. "With the magnificence of your hands, I can certainly see a bright future ahead for a partnership between you and my company."
He can bet Matsumoto is just itching to jump up and down and cheer loudly in happiness – he can practically feel her excitement being given off in waves from behind him.
"But," Ayane continues, "I regret to inform you, there is still a very serious matter left for us to discuss."
In response to the pianist's quizzical look, he turns his torso slightly, drawing their attention to a small figure hunched in the shadows behind him, unseen by any of them, most likely because he seems to have been trying to blend and completely vanish into the darkness. Even now, he squeaks slightly and backs away, eyeing Toushiro warily and refusing to say a word.
It is as if someone has placed an iron over his heart, causing it to pump red-hot blood through his veins, to surge anger throughout his entire body, to cause the core of his very being to coil and twist in agitation and blood lust. It takes only moments for the fury – the ache to reach out and throttle the man's neck thoroughly and painfully – to return. His fists clench.
"You," he hears Karin remark from somewhere behind him, though the ringing in his ears makes it sound distant. Ayane Hibiki looks from her, to him, to the cowering man behind him, before he clears his throat to catch their attention.
"This is my son, Ayane Kazuhiro," the older man explains impassively, causing Matsumoto to close her eyes in horror and groan. "And I do believe, Hitsugaya-san, that you have wronged him greatly tonight."
A dead silence covers the group. Karin perks up, looking at them curiously and hoping to finally learn what the fight had been about, but Matsumoto is too busy burying her head in her hands with lost hope to think of much else.
"Oh?" he manages through clenched teeth. Ayane finally shifts his expression and raises an eyebrow.
"Yes. We had a doctor address his wounds and, thankfully, the damages are minimal. But, you have caused him great pain tonight, and I feel we must clear the air before advancing our professional relationship any farther."
"And by 'clearing the air', I assume that you mean..."
"An apology," he clarifies. "From you, to my son."
"Now, hang on," Karin interrupts their stare-off, holding up her hands and stepping forward. He groans quietly, wishing she had ignored her characteristically bold mannerisms and stayed quiet. But it is too late – they all turn their attention towards her. "Now, I don't exactly know what happened between these two, but I think you're being very unreasonable here..."
"Ayane," the man supplies, cocking an eyebrow at her. Maybe wondering why she had not known his name when he had introduced himself – she must have have had difficulty reading the name off of his lips.
"Right, Ayane-san," she says, after keeping a close eye on his mouth. "First of all, how can you know that it was Toushiro in the wrong? You don't know him, so that's probably why you would assume this is his fault, especially since your son is the one who's bloodied up, but I know for a fact that Toushiro is not that kind of a person. He talks things out first."
Toushiro almost grins over at her, feeling elated at her immediate response to defend him and the integrity of his character, but cannot help but feel that her outspoken personality should have picked a better time to cause her to speak out. Ayane's upper lip curls in contempt towards her.
"I may not know Hitsugaya-san, miss, but I do know my own son. And seeing as how I do know what happened between these two, I believe that I am a tad bit more qualified to judge who is 'in the wrong,' as you said."
This catches Toushiro's attention.
"Ayane-san, you say that your son has told you what happened?" he questions, the clench in his fists tightening as he ponders the implications of the answer to his questions. "Even the reason?"
"We have...discussed it briefly," the man replies, seemingly aloof. But Toushiro sees it.
He sees the man's eyes flicker over to Karin's face briefly, sees his upper lips curl even more in that moment, sees his eyes hold a hint of a jeer, and suddenly, the young adult knows. He knows that Ayane Hibiki has gotten the whole truth behind what occurred in the dressing room, knows about his son's actions, and actually agrees with them, maybe even applauds them secretly on the inside.
The young musician sees nothing but red. But before he can say anything, he hears Matsumoto shuffle behind him, and she finally speaks up, surprisingly much later than he would ever have expected her to.
"Ayane-san," she says, bowing humbly in front of him. "Although I do not know of the exact events that took place between these two, we – Hitsugaya-san and myself, his manager and representative – sincerely apologize for -"
"No," he cuts across harshly, sticking out an arm in front of her abruptly to halt her in her words. "We do not." Ignoring her baffled expression and Karin's quizzical one, he turns towards a smirking Ayane Hibiki, automatically stepping in front of Karin in a protective stance. "Get out..."
"Hmm?" Ayane mumbles.
"Get out," Toushiro repeats, his voice a dangerous hiss. "Get out of my sight."
"Are you sure you want to do this to your career, Hitsugaya-san?" the bastard asks. "I mean, the rewards for such...chivalry" – his smirk widens as he eyes Karin once again – "can hardly be worth -"
"I said to get out of my sight!" he snarls.
The smirk drops immediately, the previously collected man now openly glaring.
"You do not want me as your enemy, Hitsugaya-san," he advises with malice dripping in every word. "I demand your give us a formal apology for the damage you have caused my son. You, no one else."
"I didn't hear anything on the news today about flying pigs," the musician replies coolly, folding his arms across his chest.
"You will regret this!" Ayane promises, his voice rising. "No theater is ever going to let you take one step into their building, I'll make sure of that. Your career as a musician ends as of today!"
"Do you see any tears in my eyes?"
The record company owner simply glares at him murderously before spinning on his heel and stomping over to the exit.
"Kazuhiro, we're going!" he commands his pathetically frightened and silent son. He immediately follows, scurrying over to his father and stumbling over his own feet, although a bit more slowly because his nose starts to bleed and he tilts his head back, clutching tissues to it.
And then, Karin does the most wonderful and perfect thing she could do in the situation. Her nurse training kicking in, she rushes forward, places a hand securely behind his neck, and makes him face downwards instead.
"You shouldn't lean your head back during a nosebleed," she advises him in response to his quizzical look. "Leaning it forward is better, or else you'll feel nauseous, and swallowing all that blood can clog your airway, or induce vomiting."
Kazuhiro nods dumbly in gratitude at her helpful action and staggers away. Before he bows his head, Toushiro has the satisfaction of seeing the feelings of guilt and shame etched onto his face. Good. The bastard can take them to Hell with him, for all he cares.
.. ღ ..
"But you came to us, and now you're saying that – yes, I can understand that, but...Yeah? Well, you and Ayane Hibiki wouldn't know talent if it bit you in the ass and gave you rabies! Ugh!"
Matsumoto slams down the phone in aggravation, a glare still in her eyes as she pulls her hand roughly through her ruffled hair.
"Another cancellation?" Toushiro inquires nonchalantly, looking up from his book.
"Yes," she answers, furiously. "It was supposed to be a benefit, and they wanted you to play for a few hours. And now they've canceled, all because of that Ayane! The event is only a week away! Where are they planning on finding another musician on such short notice?"
"It will probably be very easy, what with all that money I'm sure Ayane bribed them with," he replies, grimacing.
"This is unbelievable," she says, groaning and biting the nail of her thumb in worry. "You were booked solid for the next month, and now, nothing! They've all canceled."
"The power of money," he says simply, shaking his head slightly in disappointment at the thought that so many people could be bought so easily.
"Unfortunately, if we don't get any jobs soon, we won't have any." She begins pacing slightly.
"Aren't you being a little too dramatic?" he asks, casually turning to the next page of his book. "I'm sure we can find someone...What about Kyoraku-san and Nanao-san? They're friends of ours."
The huge, hopeful grin that had blossomed on her face at the idea drops slightly as a new thought occurs to her.
"They've closed up their theater for the next few months because they'll be busy finishing up with all their wedding preparations."
He chokes on nothing at the news.
"What?! They're getting married?...Why would anybody want to marry him?" he asks, incredulously, thinking of Kyoraku's slacker tendencies and annoyingly laid-back attitude, and her completely opposite pragmatic views and personality. Matsumoto rolls her eyes.
"Why does anybody get married?" she remarks, impatiently. "It's love. Love! Nanao-san said we should be getting invitations to the wedding soon. They could have picked a better time, but after dating for three years, I'm sure she thought it best to grab at the chance of him finally ready to make a commitment to her. You know, before he changes his mind, or something." She purses her lips. "So our fall back option is temporarily not an option. We really do need to find someone willing to hire you."
"Matsumoto, I just gave a performance. Finding another one shouldn't be too big of an issue right now. So what if I need to take a break for a while?"
"It won't be just a while," she snaps at him. "If Ayane gets his way, this last performance was just that – your last! Just what was so important that you had to piss off the one guy I told you we couldn't afford to piss off?!"
He shrugs, retuning to his book, not looking bothered in the least, and she grits her teeth, looking like she wants to lunge at him and make him see reason.
"Ugh! I need some sake!" She grabs her purse from its place next to him on his couch, and stomps to the front door of his apartment. "I'll be back."
"Don't bother," he calls after her, calmly turning another page. "I don't want you making my apartment smell like alcohol."
She only slams the door in response.
.. ღ ..
A loud knock early the next morning wakes him up. Grumbling furiously and rubbing at his drooping eyes, he stumbles sleepily through his apartment, wrenching the door open violently when he finally reaches it.
"Matsumoto, I swear -"
And then he freezes, because the amused face of Kurosaki Karin awaits him on the other side instead.
"Can I, uh, come in?" she asks. He nods, still in slight shock, and steps aside to let her in. As he closes the door behind her, she takes her time looking over the parts of the apartment that she can see from her position.
"Yup," she says pointedly. "Spick-and-span and not a thing out of place. Just what I thought an apartment of yours would look like."
"Glad I didn't disappoint you, then," he answers, jokingly, though after taking a place right in front of her. He beckons that she follow him, and then leads her over to sit on the couch.
"Did I wake you up?" she asks, looking apologetic.
"Yes," he answers honestly, but, not wanting to make her feel responsible, continues hurriedly, "but I should have been getting up soon, anyway. I just stayed up late to finish a book."
"A neat freak and a nerd?" she teases with a smirk on her face. "Wow, I'm two for two today."
He glares at her irritably, but it fades soon.
"How did you know where I lived?"
"Rukia-nee gave me the address in your files from her classes." He raises an eyebrow.
"Any particular reason?" She nods.
"Well, you see, my family has been helping Nanao-san and Kyoraku-san plan their wedding." When he raises an eyebrow at her, she rolls her eyes. "Yuzu's idea," she explains. "She loves this kind of stuff, and Rukia-nee was excited about it too, so, of course, Otou-san went along with it. I don't really mind, since they're very close friends, and they do us a lot of favors."
"Like bringing the two of us together." It slips out, and he blushes slightly when he realizes it sounds like he's calling the two of them a couple. But she only nods happily.
"Exactly," she agrees. "So I was running errands today, and Kyoraku-san said that since I would be heading this way anyway, I should come over and give you this personally."
In response to his inquisitive look, she rummages through the bag slung on her shoulder; it suits her - just solid black and simple.
"Ah, here it is. Here."
She hands him a small folded card with graceful, flowery designs dominating the edges. The words You Are Invited are written in elegant script largely across the middle.
"An invitation," she explains. "To their wedding." She hands him another one. "And this one is for Rangiku-san. I'm sure you'll be seeing her soon enough, so I'll give this to you to give to her."
He nods in agreement, placing the two cards on the coffee table to remember to hand hers to her when she arrives.
"You're allowed to bring a guest," she continues, "so if you do, make sure to tell us, so we can order all the food and other accommodations. The details are on the invitations – read it over when you have the time. If there are any problems for either you or Rangiku-san, just text me. I would ask you to text Nanao-san, but she's been so hectic recently that it might not be a good idea to pile more problems onto her shoulders."
He chuckles along with her, knowing how hysterical and frenzied their friend can be when faced with too many burdens, though most are usually caused by her husband-to-be.
"And...there is something else..." she begins, somewhat hesitantly.
"What is it?" he encourages.
And then he is cut off by the sound of his stomach growling. Though he knows she can't hear it, he is still embarrassed, and claps his hands over his stomach reflexively. She looks at him in surprise at the strange action, but can probably infer what happened by his flustered expression because she bursts out laughing.
"What a terrible friend I am," she says in between laughs. "First keeping you from your sleep, and now your breakfast."
"Do you, uh, want any?" he asks, making to get up from the couch because he has no reply to her statement.
"Hmm." She places a finger on her chin in a thinking pose. "Well, I had breakfast, but passing up a chance to taste the amazing Hitsugaya Toushiro's culinary skills? Never."
He rolls his eyes at her wide grin, but grabs her arm and pulls her into the kitchen with him anyway, so they can still talk. It isn't until they near the cooking area that he finally realizes his own bold actions.
'I'm holding her arm!' She is every bit as warm as he remembers it to be, when she had first held his hands all those months ago when they had first met. However, she had only been trying to prove a point, while he is making unnecessary contact. 'I never do that,' he thinks, surprised at his own actions.
Trying hard to be subtle, he peeks at her from the corner of his eyes. She only looks relaxed, looking around at his tidy kitchen with interest, not at all bothered by the hand holding onto her. And though this should have caused him relief, he feels his heart fall slightly. 'Does my presence not bother her at all?' he wonders sadly.
He is so eerily aware of her at all times, always sure to speak only when his lips are visible, to pronounce each word as clearly as possible to include her into the conversation, to learn sign language for her benefit, to think of her as he composes each new song, to hope to make her proud as he plays in front of an audience, to protect her.
Do his efforts count for nothing? Will she aways consider him a friend, the pianist she had so admired and can now converse with freely? Is that all he is to her?
'You're being ridiculous, Toushiro,' he reprimands himself. 'Just listen to yourself.'
This should be enough. It means she is comfortable in his presence, secure enough around him to allow casual touching without making a blush-worthy scene...Well, neither of them are the type for a blush-worthy scene, so her reaction makes perfect sense. He cheers himself slightly at these thoughts, convinced that such a simple action on his part and lack of action on her part means a positive step farther in their relationship. He is obviously no longer a stranger to her, or just a musician she had watched on television from time to time, but something more.
"So, what are you making for me?" Her question breaks him out of his reverie. He mentally shakes his head to clear it.
"I'm not making anything for you," he replies, jokingly. "You've already had breakfast, so you can just have my scraps if you're that desperate for a taste."
She sticks her tongue out at him playfully, but leans against the counters to watch him work. He reluctantly slips his hand away to head to the refrigerator.
"I always have an omelet in the morning," he informs her as he places some vegetables on the counter and searches for a cutting board and a knife. "Less hassle." And she watches in awe as he begins chopping expertly at a furious speed, each piece of each veggie the same, small size.
"I wish I could do that," she says, jealousy in her tone.
"Practice," he says simply. "Plus, I have quick fingers, from all that piano playing. Anyway, you said you had something to tell me?"
She takes a moment to think before she remembers.
"Oh, right. The favor." She bites her lip, looking rather guilty.
"What favor?" he asks, now downright curious.
"Well, I know that you're going to be a guest at the wedding, but Nanao-san and Kyoraku-san were wondering if – you can say no if you want to...if you wouldn't mind playing the piano for a bit?"
He simply looks at her for a moment before chuckling, and then reaches for four eggs – double the amount he usually eats.
"That's all? And here I was thinking you needed me to whack someone for you." She huffs in irritation.
"I was just worried that you might have a lot on your plate. Maybe recitals or -"
"No, I don't have any. I wouldn't mind one bit."
"Great! I'm sure if you decide to bring a date – I mean, guest – she...or he...won't mind, since it will only be for a little while, I promise. They have another pianist, but he can only come for a little – wait, any?" She breaks off mid-sentence as his answer finally registers. He only nods, reaching for a frying pan and some oil. "Any, as in, at all?"
He laughs at her widened, surprised eyes, and nods slowly to get the message across.
"Yes, at all. They've been canceled. All of them," he says in a rush when he sees her open her mouth furiously.
"Is it...because of that man? From the recital a few days ago?" He grimaces at her accurate guess, and her face darkens as she sees it. "So it was because of what happened between you and...Kazuhiro, was it?"
"Maybe," he replies, shrugging, trying to keep his answers vague, so as not to make her want to pry. "Breakfast is ready."
She looks taken aback at his deliberate and abrupt change in topic, and appears even more shocked when he cuts the omelet in half, places each on two separate plates, and hands one to her, along with a fork. When he notices her dumbstruck expression, he laughs.
"You didn't really think I was going to make you eat my scraps, did you?"
She punches his arm playfully, but it seems strange with the bright beam on her face.
.. ღ ..
"Oh, Kami, this is heaven." She spears a bit of the egg dish on her fork and holds it in front of her eyes, staring at it in awe and love, going as far as to place a delighted hand on her cheek. "I mean, you just – fantastic – this is – marry me!"
Trying to ignore the way his heart leaps wildly at that last statement, he eyes her with amusement.
"What, they don't feed you over at your house?" he teases once she looks up to aim her admiration at him.
"They do, but Ichi-nii has never liked egg dishes, and because Yuzu has such a huge big brother complex, she hardly makes any, so it's been a while since I've had such an amazing omelet." She goes back to admiring his cooking, and he shakes his head at her wonder in such simple pleasures.
She stuffs her face, shoving a large piece into her mouth, and moans happily as another blast of wonderful flavor hits her tongue. Unable to talk because of the food in her mouth, she simply places her middle finger and thumb against her lips, moving her hand towards him, signing, 'Delicious!'
He grins before placing a hand flat against his chin and extending it outwards, simply signing back a 'Thank you' before turning towards his own plate. Thank Kami for those sign language classes.
Normally, he would have thought himself childish for getting happy over such little things, but...he kind of likes being able to talk to her this way, in a secret language that not just anyone could use to converse with her. It's something that the two of them share together, and he knows that not many can say that. He can offer her so many things by learning it; a chance to remain comfortable with him, to not feel the need to speak specially for him, to be herself.
It almost makes up for Matsumoto and Kuchiki teasing him so much about it.
.. ღ ..
"I should be going," she says finally, getting up off her seat and picking up her plate. "There are still errands I need to run."
He nods in understanding and, before she can make it to the kitchen, he grabs the plate from her hands. Picking up his own, he puts them both in the kitchen sink, deciding to wash them later, when she is gone. When he turns back, she is watching him with narrowed eyes, her arms folded across her chest. When she notices him staring back, she lifts both of her eyebrows. After a moment, he shrugs.
"It's not your problem," he insists. "I'll take care of it."
"I'm deaf, Toushiro," she says firmly and suddenly, a slight glare in her eyes. "I'm not made of glass."
He feels himself flushing.
"That's not why," he argues. "It's just...you're a guest. What kind of host would I be if I let you handle that?"
"So you're a host now?" she demands, her voice raising. He gazes back at her, confused by her outburst. "I thought we were friends. Friends let each other do things like that without making a fuss."
"What? I wasn't making a fuss -"
"Don't treat me differently, Toushiro," she spits out. "I'm perfectly capable of putting a plate away."
He stares back at her, bewildered. Where is this coming from? Just a moment ago, the two of them had been joking with one another, eating his breakfast and having a good time. It had only been one simple action, just an act of courtesy and kindness – why is she making such a big deal about it?
"I'm not insinuating that you can't," he remarks, trying to keep the surprise from his voice. "I'm just saying it's not your job to clean up around here."
"But it's my job to clean up after me," she counters. "You don't have to coddle me, Toushiro, or wrap me up in a thick blanket and keep me safe from the world. I'm a big girl, and I'm perfectly capable of watching my own back."
"Karin," he mutters, pleadingly, lost about what they are fighting over – it can hardly be over him putting a plate in the sink for her. "What brought all of this on?"
There is a beat of silence – an intensely quiet moment in which her expression falls and he desperately tries to understand her sudden hostility – and then, "You were fighting over me, weren't you?" she asks somberly.
The atmosphere in the room changes immediately, him freezing in position and watching her with wide eyes, and her tapping her foot impatiently as she watches him expectantly, wanting an answer. There is no need to clarify what she means – both know exactly who and what she is referring to, and he rubs the back of his neck, not sure of how to avoid the answer.
"We...yes," he admits finally, sheepishly. "How did you know?"
"I didn't, not until just now," she tells him through gritted teeth. "Not until you put away the plate for me, like you felt the need to take care of everything for me. I realized it was strange that you would fight someone so suddenly when you're known for being so collected all the time, and that it happened after you met me." She breathes deeply, gazing at him deeply as he fights the urge to looks away in shame. "He said something about me, didn't he? You were protecting me from him, weren't you?"
"Well, uh..." He sighs, defeated, and says in a flat tone, "Yes."
She nods lightly, an unreadable expression on her face, this obviously being the answer she had expected. And then, she pulls back her arm...and strikes him as hard as she can with her fist.
"What the hell?!" he cries out, clutching his arm in pain and glaring at her. She uncurls her fist with a self-satisfied smirk.
"That was for thinking I can't take care of myself," she tells him pointedly.
"Ow..." he says under his breath, still rubbing the sore spot.
Slowly, she reaches out her hands and places them on his shoulders, pulls him down, and places a very chaste and very brief kiss on his cheek. The pain in his arm suddenly all but forgotten, he places a palm over the spot on his cheek where he can still tingles and warmth spreading through it, and stares at her in wonder. She flushes under his gaze, not used to being so soft towards men.
"And that was for such a wonderful breakfast," she says quietly. When she sees his surprised face, she sticks out her tongue at him. "What? Did you think I was going to do something sappy, like actually thank you for standing up for me, or something? Didn't one punch suffice?"
She curls her fist, ready to strike again, but he quickly shakes his head, covering her small hand with his own large one to stop her.
"No, no," he says quickly, but with a small smile on his face. "One was enough."
She gazes up at him for a moment, unblinking, before punching him anyway with her other hand, though only lightly and with a small smile playing on her lips. The intense atmosphere from before immediately lifts in light of their light-hearted joking, and he sighs in relief, aware that he has been forgiven momentarily, and returns the smile. She pulls away, heading for the living room to collect her things. He watches as she slips her bag over her shoulder, and follows her closely as they head for his front door.
"I'll see you at the wedding?" she asks for clarification, turning to face him at the doorstep. He nods.
"Or earlier," he says, pausing to think. "You can come to me if you need any help with the preparations, and I'm sure Matsumoto would love to help, too."
She nods in gratitude.
"I'll keep that in mind. And make sure that if you decide to bring a guest, ask her, or him, soon, so that you can tell us and we can finish our preparations."
He answers in the affirmative, and she watches him closely for a second before spinning back around and heading for the apartment stairs, her shoulders slightly more hunched for some reason.
He sighs, propping his elbow against the doorway and leaning on it as he watches her leave. Really, there's only one person he can think of that he would want to bring as a guest – date – and yet, he's sure she would only say no. After all, she has no reactions to him, no changes when being near him, as he does.
He has been infatuated with Karin since the moment he met her – even before, really, since she had plagued his mind since he first saw her in the balcony, barefoot and beautiful. At first, it was just curiosity, a desire to understand the strange inner workings of her mind that understands him so well. But ever since the dressing room, when he felt jealousy claw at him at the sight of another man making a move on her, and when he experienced a surge of anger at the audacity of anyone degrading her, he feels a new curiosity.
She knows so much about him already, that he loves his family, his manager, his piano. She understands how he truly feels in awe of music, despite what he has been saying, and that he puts his heart into his compositions now. She even has a slight inkling, he is sure, that he does this all for her. How could she not, with the way he watches out for her, albeit against her wishes, and succeeds because of her words and confidence in him?
But he knows nothing about her, nothing personal. He knows she is younger than him by a couple of years and just graduated high school the previous year, but only indirectly through Kuchiki. He only discovered that her family owns a clinic and she is a nurse there by accident. He knows she punches her father when he acts idiotic, but he doesn't know her true feelings towards him, or the rest of her family, or...him.
He does not even know how she lost her hearing, he realizes with a jolt as he remembers Kuchiki's words in her kitchen. And then another memory resurfaces.
'"You mean she hasn't told you? Hmm, maybe you two aren't as close as I originally thought."'
He feels the annoyance at those words even now, as he had felt the first time they had been spoken. But he has no choice but to admit that the reason he does not know anything about her is his own fault – he has never bothered to inquire. Sure, he has been curious about her for a while, but he has never made a move to learn more about her, slowly, if need be. If he had ever hinted that he wanted to know more, maybe she would have let him in.
And so, this means it is up to him to take the first step. She took one first, the first time they met when she boldly sneered at him, which had somehow been exactly what he had needed. And now she needs a push. She needs to realize that he is just so curious about her, that he wants to know more, that she needn't shut him away from her private life. Obviously, it makes no difference to him if she is deaf; she is no different in his eyes than anyone else is, except maybe in a more positive way. This only proves how strong she is, to live life so freely after cruelly being ripped apart from her hearing.
'See? There you go, Toushiro. You just learned something else about her.'
And he knows what he has to do to learn more.
Karin has already left the building during his inner conversation. He rushes to the window in his apartment that faces the front of the building, and sees her crossing the parking lot. Pushing himself away furiously, he dashes out of his living quarters and throws open the door to the stairs, jumping three or four at a time in his haste to get to her.
At the front door, he catches a glimpse of her back as she swings one leg over a motorcycle and settles into the seat, reaching for the helmet hanging from the handlebars. She drives a motorcycle? Yet another thing he did not know about her. He raises his hand above his head and rushes after her.
"Wait!" he cries for obviously no reason, as she can't hear him, but at the same time, he grasps her shoulders from behind and spins her torso in her seat to face him. She peers up at him, shock on her face, but upon realizing that it is someone she knows, she relaxes slightly. Swinging her leg back over, she sets her helmet against her hip and turns to face him with a questioning look, and he grits his teeth. It's now or never.
"...I didn't know you drove a motorcycle," he hears himself say, and mentally smacks himself. This isn't what he wanted to tell her! She gives him a funny look, but nods.
"I've had it since I first got my license," she explains.
"And they allow deaf people to drive?" he asks, desperately trying to backpedal the conversation to the right direction but finding himself unable to do so. Words he does not mean to say keep slipping out.
"Yes," she answers, a little defensively. "Did you know that eighty to ninety percent of driving requires sight? And it's not like deaf people are any different from teenagers who blast music in their cars, so why should we be denied the right? It's all about being able to drive safely, and I do."
"...Fascinating." He cringes mentally. That's all he could think of to say?
"Is that all, Toushiro?" she asks, eyeing him curiously. Probably wondering why he had stopped her for such a stupid reason. Well, it isn't really stupid to him – he has learned yet another thing abouther, and is now less ignorant about her lifestyle. But there are more important matters to discuss.
"Um, no. Do you think that, maybe, you would want to, uh, go to the wedding with me?" he finally manages to stutter out.
She gazes at him in surprise, perhaps not expecting such a different topic than the one they had started with. But then a small, evil glint makes its way to her eyes and smirk.
"Well, we'll both already going to the wedding," she answers, and he listens in confusion. "I was planning to go with my family, since I can hardly show up on a motorcycle, and I'm sorry if you really wanted to ride one, but if you want to carpool, we don't mind picking you up. It's not exactly on the way, but we wouldn't mind leaving early. And if you have your heart set, I can take you for a ride some other time -"
His jaw slackens as he realizes what she is doing. She's going to make him work for it! She knows perfectly what what he had meant, and she is purposely goading him. Well, he is not going to let her get to him. This is long overdue, and he is not going to let all the determination he had built up go to waste. He has enough courage to do this, and do it right.
"No," he tells her firmly, taking her by surprise. "I meant with me, as my guest – as my date."
The eyebrow that had shot up at his suddenly serious expression slowly drops at his clarification. He watches in fascination as a corner of her mouth tilts, lifting ever so slightly as a slow but sure smile breaks out across her lips. And what he truly finds so striking is the dusting of red that sprinkles over her cheeks, flushing her face as she looks up at him through her lashes and bobs her head, quickly and happily.
"I thought you would never ask."
Jeez, Toushiro is so dense. She kept giving him signals that she wanted him to ask, and he only just realizes. I know that Karin, being Karin, would probably just have asked him herself, but she really just wanted him to grow a pair and spit it out ;D Anyway, now we get to read as they get to know one another better and their romance blooms! And I added that whole omelet eating scene because I really just wanted the sign language classes to come in handy and serve a purpose. Though I had to research how to say those simple words. I have a friend taking SL, and I've been driving him crazy :)
Oh, and speaking of research, I had to do a lot of it on driving for the hearing impaired for this one, since I realize that there are some countries that do not allow it. And after a lot of work, I found out that Japan does indeed allow deaf drivers, though they didn't for a long time until the Japanese Federation of the Deaf petitioned for it. So her driving is perfectly okay. Also, that thing about the nosebleeds is true, everyone. I learned it in Health Science this year, so if you ever get a nosebleed, don't lean your head back, lean it forward and pinch.