Chapter Eleven: Watch How Good I'll Fake It

Toushirou really had to do something about the sleeping arrangements. He'd spent the whole night tossing and turning, trying to pretend like it was Momo in the bed next to him, not that little brat of a girl he'd never been able to get out of his head . . . who wasn't so little any more.

Still a bit of a brat though, he thought, smirking as he sipped his tea and pushed his breakfast around on the plate. Karin was hard to get a read on; timid one moment and aggressive the next. She was also the worst cook he'd ever met—and that was saying something, seeing how he'd spent weeks living with Matsumoto and Inoue. Speaking of Matsumoto, Toushirou eyed the shopping bags sitting on the coffee table with suspicion.

"What did you get out shopping with Matsumoto?" he asked, picking up a bag and starting to look inside. His lieutenant was trouble personified.

Karin came out of nowhere and snatched the bag out of his hands. "Don't look in there!"

Their eyes met and his widened, taking in the near panic in her gaze. "O-okay," he soothed, holding up his hands and stepping back. "Not looking." Yep, trouble.

She blushed. "I'm sorry. It's just some . . . clothes and stuff. We kind of used your credit card," she added, looking guilty. "I tried not to spend too much, though," she reassured him.

But his credit card was . . . . He grabbed his wallet out of his pocket and checked. Sure enough, his Seireitei Express was missing. Matsumoto must have snatched it the prior morning. "Damn. Did you at least get it back from her?"

Karin winced. "Y-yeah, I have it here," she said, offering it to him. "I'm sorry! Matsumoto said it would be okay, but I should have known better—"

And there was the timidity again. What was her deal? "No, it's fine. I shouldn't have run off and left you without emergency kan to begin with. Hold onto it, and use it when you need it. But," he added, eyes narrowing, "don't let Matsumoto have it. Last time she got a hold of it, she enrolled me in a candy of the week club." He shuddered, remembering Ukitake's knowing stares. "I don't even like candy."

"Um, okay," she said, putting the card back in her pocket.

That reminded him, and he fished out the gift he had picked up for her at the office. "Here."

"What is it?"

He blinked at her. "What does it look like? It's a cell phone."

"You guys have cell phones here?"

He was seriously starting to wonder if she'd hit her head at some point since he'd seen her last. "Yes," he said slowly, "I had one in the living world too, remember?"

"Yeah, but—" she broke off, snorting. "I guess I forget sometimes. You guys blended in so well in the living world that I was shocked when I got here and it was like going back in time. So now I'm adjusting to that and losing track of what it was like before. Cell phones just don't really fit in with the whole Soul Society picture, you know?"

She had a point. "We generally only use them in the living world. Mostly we communicate through hell butterflies, which are more efficient, but they can only be used by Shinigami."

"Which I'm not."

"Right. So I'm giving you this, instead."

"But what good is it if no one else has one?"

"We have them, we just don't carry them or turn them on usually," he huffed, patience running thin. "I programmed my number and Matsumoto's into yours, and we'll have them on at all times in case you need something."

She glanced at the phone, then looked over at him. "I . . . Thank you."

Toushirou didn't like the way she seemed so grateful for every little thing any more than the way she apologized all the time. He hadn't gone out of his way for her, at least any more than she ought to expect him to. He'd given her a credit card and a phone, not diamonds and a puppy.

He walked toward the door, then paused, turning back to her. "By the way," he began, biting back a grin, "what's this I've been hearing about me being a great lover?"

Karin froze. "I—I mean, you—well, you see, Matsumoto—" she stammered.

He cut her off, shaking his head. "Have a good day, Karin. Call me if you need me."

Definitely a brat.

The door closed behind him, and Karin could breathe again. It was like her husband sucked all the air out the room when he was in it. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was the same guy who'd played soccer with her and held her as she died; so much had changed since then. It was a lifetime ago—literally.

Mysterious, intimidating, always walking away—in those ways, he hadn't changed, he was just more. Actually, she wasn't sure whether he was more as much as she was finally seeing him clearly, with none of the haze of youth and the assumptions that came with it—like that someone who looked like a kid couldn't be much more than that. Now she saw him, in all his glory, as the Captain of the Tenth Squad who held near god-like status in this world. And she could tell he'd earned it.

She shuddered, the blush still lingering on her skin. Whatever else she knew about him, the potency of those blue-green eyes had always made her head swim.

Cursing Matsumoto (and herself for trusting the gossipmonger), Karin set about her daily chores. She cleaned up the breakfast she'd made—it hadn't been nearly as good as Hitsugaya's, and she'd noticed he hadn't eaten much of it—and took her bags into his bedroom to put them away. It was weird invading his space like this. She considered moving his things to make space for hers in the dresser and closet, but she didn't. She had to remember her place; this wasn't Karakura. She wasn't a newlywed, and even if Toushirou—Hitsugaya-taichou—was treating her kindly, she couldn't fall into a false sense of security with him. She was in Soul Society, where a wife was more property than person. Her job was to serve him. More than that, it was her duty, after all he'd done for her.

So she left her clothes in the bags and cleaned the (already pretty clean) house from top to bottom. And then she cleaned the places she'd missed the first time. When she was confident that every inch of the place was spotless, she sank down on the sofa, spirits plummeting because it was still early in the afternoon and there was nothing left to do. Judging from the night before, she shouldn't start dinner until it got dark, at least, and it wasn't like there was a tv to watch. It would also be too much to hope that Matsumoto would swoop in and drag her off for another adventure.

Karin tried taking a nap, but she wasn't tired. So she looked out the window for a while, watching shinigami come and go on the main drag at the end of the walk. Some walked with purpose, rushing past, and others dawdled, wandering aimlessly—ducking work, probably. A few people going by even looked familiar, and Karin wondered idly how many of her brother's "friends" that she'd met once or twice (and never seen again) had actually been shinigami.

The thought of Ichigo was too painful, and she pulled away from the window, letting the curtain fall back into place. Looking out at where she couldn't be was just an exercise in frustration anyway. This wasn't Kuchiki Manor, she couldn't get away with sneaking around and hoping they wouldn't notice—Karin was here for life (death?), and pissing off her husband wouldn't go so well for her. If he hadn't given her permission to go out, she wouldn't go out. Maybe if she took really good care of him, he'd give her permission. Only time would tell.

Desperate for entertainment, she spotted a bookshelf in the corner and scanned it for something interesting. Surely he wouldn't begrudge her this? She'd been told that men here didn't like their women too educated—by both Gorou and Chiyo-sama—but honestly, her husband seemed more the type to be annoyed by ignorance. He hadn't seemed to care that she was a good student when they'd first met, but she had to stop making that comparison. Things were different then—she hadn't belonged to him, and he'd been on her turf. At the same time, she was dying of boredom. Hoping her instincts were right, she selected a book on shinigami history and curled up on the couch with a cup of tea and a tiny grin. It wasn't soccer and it wasn't tv, but it was the next best thing.

She got so wrapped up in the book she didn't notice the time passing until she heard the snick of the lock. She looked up just in time to see her husband walk through the door. It was twilight already.

He slipped off his shoes and stretched for a long moment before turning toward the living room.

"H-hey," she whispered when those blue-green eyes fixed on her. She blushed, remembering the scene when he had left that morning. He was so intense. She was ridiculously glad that he was back, though. She wasn't used to being alone for so long, and it made her uncomfortable.

"Hello," he replied, walking toward her. His gaze fell on the book in her hands. "Why are you sitting here like that?" he demanded, flicking on the light in the dim room. "Is that my copy of The First Shinigami? Where did you find it?"

Oh God, she'd been wrong. She'd thought because Hitsugaya-taichou was so smart he wouldn't mind if his wife was smart, too. Instead, it seemed he was the type who liked his woman ignorant. He must like feeling superior to the people around him. She cursed herself for a fool, and her respect for him dropped a few notches. But then she realized what she'd done, and the trembling set in. Reading was the least of her transgressions—she'd taken the book without asking and been caught lounging around!

"I'm sorry, Hitsugaya-taichou," she burst out, realizing it was true. "I only borrowed the book because I was bored, but then time got away from me! I really did mean to have dinner ready by the time you got home."

She jumped up. "I'll make something quick now." Not that she knew what to make, or really wanted him to watch the disaster that was her in the kitchen.

He caught her arm, then released it when she flinched and thrust the book at him. "Karin, are you all right?"

No. She felt like she might cry, stupid as it was, because she'd screwed up already and she depended on him—she couldn't have him mad at her. Where's your strength now, Kurosaki? she asked herself. One tiny mistake and she fell apart.

He tipped her chin down toward him, and the sight of him in full uniform, haori and all, made her even more lost. She remembered the days, not so long ago, when she'd searched endlessly for a glimpse of that green-lined jacket, when the swing of it had made her think of security, safety. Now it just represented authority, power: he had it, and she did not.

She shuddered and he skimmed his palms over her arms.

"Cold?"

She shook her head, still refusing to look in his eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, instead, and wondered if, when she looked in the mirror that night, she'd see Miu looking back at her.

He pulled her hair. Hard.

"Ow!" Her eyes shot to his, glaring.

He smirked. "That's better. What are you even apologizing for, anyway? I'm home early, you idiot," he said, gesturing to the sky outside, where the sun was still setting. "And who said you had to make dinner? Grab a coat, we're going out."

She studied him for a moment, wondering if maybe she hadn't messed up. He didn't seem mad. Then she noticed the tension in his jaw, and her heart sank. He was covering for her incompetencies again, being nice, when really all he'd wanted after working all day was to come home to dinner on the stove and a wife kneeling, ready to serve him. One who'd spent her free time meditating or practicing her cooking skills or thinking up new ways to make his life easier, instead of lazing about on the couch reading his books. Learning.

She threw him a false smile and turned toward the bedroom. He caught her wrist again, his grip light, and she managed not to flinch—she wanted to believe that he wouldn't hit her, no matter how angry he got, but part of her just couldn't let Chiyo-sama's lessons go: she'd said time and again that every husband punished his wife with his fists at least once. What Karin knew of Hitsugaya, she knew from her world, when he'd seemed like any other (ridiculously cool) boy her age, not some battle-hardened captain from an alternate universe that was stuck in the middle ages. The boy she knew wouldn't raise a hand to her, but that boy didn't really exist. And she didn't know this man in his place, not really.

When she glanced over her shoulder at him, he shoved something into her hands. "Keep it," he told her. "I've read it three times anyway."

Her eyes jumped from the book to his face and back, and this time she couldn't keep the hope down.

Toushirou knew she thought he was mad about something. For the life of him, though, he couldn't figure out what. He supposed he'd been harsh with his questions, but she'd surprised him, peering out from the dark like that. He'd almost reached for his sword.

She came back out with a jacket on, and he opened the door for her. He'd take her to a ramen place around the corner, get her something that felt more like home.

"I didn't know you liked to read," he chatted as they walked. Something to break the silence.

She was quiet for a moment. "Is that a problem?"

"Of course not," he replied, giving her a funny look. "I was more expecting to find you out somewhere kicking a ball around, is all."

She stopped. "Y-you don't mind if I go outside when you're not there?"

He blinked at her. Why would I mind? He thought about it. "The Seireitei is pretty safe. The most you have to worry about is getting hit on, but I'm sure you can handle it. Worse comes to worse, ask them for help finding me; I'm sure that'll shut 'em up," he said with a frown.

"Th-thank you!" she burst out, hugging him.

"C'mon, c'mon, I'm hungry," he griped, rolling his eyes and cursing women and their touchy-feely tendencies.

But at least she wasn't flinching anymore.

Karin was sure someone had forgotten to give Hitsugaya-taichou the rulebook on being a husband. He wasn't acting at all like she'd been taught to expect. Well, she wasn't going to set him straight. If he was fine with her reading and going outside and not having dinner on the table when he got home from work, who was she to complain?

She stepped back from her spontaneous hug, blushing. She shouldn't have invaded his personal space without permission, but she was so happy she just couldn't help herself. Besides, the Kurosakis were a physical family. Sure, it was punches and kicks more often than hugs, but that didn't mean she wasn't missing the constant contact.

"I'm sorr—" she started, but he clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Don't say it," he growled, tugging her forward. "I'm ready to ban that word from your vocabulary."

Hitsugaya, she decided, was not a conventional man.

Days went by, blending together, and Toushirou couldn't figure out what was going on. All Karin did was clean all the time, bow and kneel and cook (poorly) and apologize and thank him for the stupidest little things. He also noticed that, no matter what he said, she wouldn't disagree. The first time he noticed it, he'd been distracted and forgotten which day it was.

"Today is Tuesday, right?" he'd asked himself out loud one morning.

"Yes, Hitsugaya-taichou," she'd replied, passing by on another cleaning spree.

It wasn't until mid-day that he realized it was Thursday. Perhaps she'd been just as confused as he was, but he couldn't let it go. He decided to test her.

"Three times seven is twenty-four."

"I—yes, Hitsugaya-taichou."

Maybe math wasn't her thing? After that, figuring it out took on a life of its own. He started saying random nonsense, just to see if she would actually disagree.

"Pigs are better at math than horses."

"Yes, Hitsugaya-taichou."

"Sewing is bad for the ankles."

"Yes, Hitsugaya-taichou."

Yep, she was definitely agreeing with him no matter what. But why, and how far would she go? He stepped up the game, spouting off comments he knew she would object to. Mostly about women. No matter what, the answer was the same.

"Women should stay in the kitchen."

"Yes, Hitsugaya-taichou."

"Women are no good with money."

"Yes, Hitsugaya-taichou."

"Girls can't play soccer."

"Yes, Hitsugaya-taichou."

He'd gaped at her for five minutes after that one. Beyond concerned, he headed over to the Sixth Division headquarters first thing the next morning.

"Hitsugaya-taichou, welcome. What can I do for you?" Byakuya greeted, half-rising from behind his desk. He didn't look surprised to see him.

Toushirou waved off an offer for tea and sank into the visitor's chair. "Tell me everything you know about this bridal training," he said without preamble.

Byakuya sighed. "Frankly, I expected you a week ago."

"We had a bit of an emergency, and I haven't been home much."

"I see."

"Now what the hell did your aunt do to my wife?"

Byakuya told him what he knew. "It's a bit of an outdated practice," he finished.

"Outdated? It's archaic!" Toushirou snapped, giving up all pretense of formality as he paced back and forth in the room. "Why didn't you tell me before now?"

Byakuya sighed. "There was nothing you could have done, Hitsugaya. Yamamoto-soutaichou ordered the training, not you. Although," he continued thoughtfully, "not being a noble himself, it is doubtful even he knew what he was demanding."

Toushioru buried his head in his hands. A whole month of "training" to undo. Training backed up by mild levels of torture. He stared at the whisky decanter on Byakuya's desk and wished he were a drinker.

"Thank you, Kuchiki," he said finally, nodding to the other taichou. "I owe you one."

The stately façade cracked for an instant, and Byakuya nodded to him. "Good luck. You will need it."

"Hisana . . . ?"

"Yes."

Damn. "How long did it take?"

"Years."

Toushirou couldn't take years of this. When he left the Sixth, he didn't go to the office, but home instead. Karin wasn't there, so he sat down on the sofa to wait. Trying to figure out what the hell to say to fix this.

Even with Hitsugaya-taichou's permission, Karin hadn't dared to go outside much. But she'd finally cracked and sought out a shop that sold sporting goods. She was walking in the door to her husband's house, tossing the closest thing she could find to a soccer ball from hand to hand, when she stopped short. The ball crashed to the floor, where it bounced and rolled into the kitchen.

"H-hitsugaya-taichou," she stuttered, seeing him sitting on the couch, watching her.

"Why did you start calling me that?" His voice was sharp, demanding.

"Wha—" His title. He was talking about his title, she realized. "I—"

"It was while you were at Kuchiki Manor, wasn't it." It didn't sound like a question.

"Yes," she confirmed, anyway.

"And that's where you learned to apologize all the time, too, isn't it? And to pretend like you agree with everything I say, even if you don't?"

"I—" She sighed. Where was this coming from? "Yes, Hitsugaya-taichou."

"Stop it. You've called me Toushirou from the moment you met me, and there's no reason to be more formal now that we're actually related."

She stared at him, bewildered. He sounded angry, yet he was granting her concessions all over the place. What could he be thinking? "Thank you."

"It's not a gift. Don't thank me." He paused for a second. "They told you that you weren't allowed to read or go outside, didn't they?"

"I—"

"Don't bother answering. It's written all over your face and I already know anyway."

God, he'd finally picked up a copy of that husband manual, hadn't he? "I'm sorry, Hits—Toushirou," she whispered, bowing her head. "I should have said something when you told me I could do those things."

"Will you stop apologizing?" he shouted. His face was bright red, his fists clenched by his sides.

She flinched, backing away. She wondered if he was actually going to hit her.

"What else did they tell you?"

"I—I don't know, lots of things," she gasped, trying to remember. Why was her memory so useless? She knelt in place, hoping it would subconsciously lessen his anger.

He jerked his fingers through his already messy hair, looking back at her with tired eyes. "Karin, I—" he broke off, cocking his head at her. "Karin, are you all right?"

She opened her mouth, but the only thing on her lips was another apology, and he didn't want that. She shook her head. She didn't know what to say.

He was kneeling in front of her in seconds, hands reaching out and pulling back at the last second. He spoke, voice gentler this time. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I'm not mad at you. I'm upset, but not at you. It's not your fault. Understand?"

He was treating her as if she were made of glass, but maybe it was warranted. She hadn't felt so off-balance since . . . well, to be honest, she'd felt off-balance a lot lately. It was getting so that she didn't know how to feel any more.

"I won't go outside any more if you don't want me to," she whispered, trying to appease him.

"That's the opposite of what I want," he replied in a low tone. "Go outside, don't go outside, read, don't read, cook, don't cook, all of it's fine. You don't need my permission for any of that, all right? I don't know what they taught you at that school, but I want you to forget all of it."

Palms closed on her shoulders, turquoise burned into her pupils. "I didn't know what was going on there, Karin, I swear! I didn't choose to send you there, but God, if I'd known what it was like, I would have found a way to get you out of there in a minute, I promise you!"

Fervent eyes begged her to believe him, and she couldn't refuse them.

She'd known that. She'd always known that. Why had she forgotten? "I—then what—I don't know the rules then," she stuttered, hopelessly confused. Karin might not've liked what Chiyo-sama taught her, or the methods used, but it was all she had.

He sighed, standing and pulling her to her feet. "How about this, then? Whenever you want to do something you think you're not supposed to do for some reason, ask me or Matsumoto. Okay?"

She nodded, quirking a hesitant smile. "Okay. Toushirou."

"Good. Well, then, I have work to do."

"O-oh." She'd thought maybe he'd be around awhile. Well, at least she had her ball. She could make an obstacle course in the park she'd seen a few blocks over and get some practice in. But it would have been nice not to be alone.

He studied her for a moment. Then, "C'mon. It's about time you saw the headquarters. Besides, I'm sure Matsumoto's dying for a distraction about now."

"Tha—" she started to thank him, but cut herself off. "That sounds good," she said instead, grinning.

She didn't know up from down right then, but for once, she felt like she'd eventually figure it out. And that maybe she wasn't alone in the process.

A/N:

Thanks for reading, and thanks so much to the loyal reviewers out there! This fic is past 150 reviews, and I'm on cloud nine! You guys make updating worth it, and you remind me that I love this story, even when it's driving me insane because the characters and the plot just won't mesh. You guys rock.

3 bandgirlz

P.S: Don't forget to review! Oh, and this chapter's title comes from Hot Chelle Rae's Tonight Tonight, which is just about the cheesiest white-boy-band retro 90s pop thing I've ever heard (LFO, anyone?). And I love it.