b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n

life, healing

"Hey."

Fuck.

Karin's cell is empty, black bars broken, crushed into shards. The walls have crumbled; the chair is in pieces… nothing has been left unscathed.

And Grimmjow's reiatsu is all over the place.

What the fuck happened?

Did he take forcibly? Or did she want to go, like her dark eyes always implied, shining in the suffocating shadows, taking the first chance she got?

Had she fought? Screaming in his face, that it's been too long – but not as long as five years – or did he just smirk whilst she gave a pretty smile, returning to his embrace?

His hands rakes through his hair, wondering what had occurred during Grimmjow's arrival and departure.

Kurosaki Ichigo had failed her… once again. But this was different to before, where he had no idea where she was. Now, even if it led to a dead end, he had a clue. And a single clue was better than nothing. He would find her; seek her out, hoping that their paths would cross. And then, when they'd finally meet – he'd ask her, after all this time, what she wanted most.

If he could, he'd grant it.

Because, despite everything that's happened… he still cares. He's always cared—but he just hasn't been able to find a way to show it.

Every time he tries, Karin turns away, refusing to listen, mocking his attempts, looking bored and dull and uninterested until rage flares in like a storm, negative emotions roaring like bolts of lightning, striking again and again and again until he's absolutely drained of anything, guilt swallowing him completely.

But Yuzu's right. Rukia's right.

He can't hold on to these feeling of guilt forever; he should start acting like her big brother again, make more of an effort until he gains her trust back, no matter how long it takes, or how reluctant Karin is to have faith in him—maybe, maybe then…

There's always a chance. There's always hope. So long as he believes and acts upon those beliefs.

And thus, Kurosaki Ichigo begins to run.

—

It might be luck. It might be fate. It might be neither of them.

But whatever it is, Kuchiki Rukia will always find Kurosaki Ichigo in his direst situation, something always leading her back to him.

"Ichigo! Where are you going?"

It's thanks to chance that she sees him out of the corner of her eye.

Skidding to a halt, Ichigo stops and turns, determination written plainly on his face, all he says is this:

"Karin's gone."

Conflicting emotions collide, but she suppresses it: because this is Ichigo's decision, and she is here to advise and direct him. Be there, but not smother. Though sometimes she can't help it, that extra dose of violence needed for emphasis and pushing him into the right direction.

Now doesn't seem to be one of them.

"What?"

—

He breathes out, slowly exhaling. Relates the story: about how Karin's cell is completely destroyed and his little sister is nowhere in sight. And if people are looking, then they haven't found her—

"I can't… I can't lose her, Rukia." She has to understand that. "Not again."

"Ichigo…" Her blue are like the ocean, fathomlessly deep; in a second of perfect clarity, he appreciates the colour of her eyes and how clearly he can read the emotions shown.

"I want to go after her. Chase her down. I want to be her big brother." The truth is that he's always found it hard to let go. That's why he's so overprotective and projects his anxiety on others. "But what if—"

"Do you ever learn?" Her midget sized hands push him back, as her eyes narrow into annoyance. "I thought we were past this! Quit doubting yourself, Ichigo. The moment you do, everything goes downhill; and though I am quite prepared to push you back up that hill with pictures of awesome cute—"

"I think you mean awful—" He mutters.

One slap later, and Rukia is continuing, heeding no attention to his previous comment.

The mark on his face begs to differ.

"—bitch."

She ignores that too.

"You can't fall off a cliff every time this concerns your sister and she fights you and screams at you and sneers and acts so ungrateful. I know! Okay? I know! But sometimes, you damn fool; you have to suck it up, bear with it – and get past it. If you could listen to yourself, you'd tire of the excuses you've been making. And maybe some of it was your fault, but some of it was hers too! Both of you have made mistakes, and it's up to both of you to fix it – however the solution turns out. Whether you extend the bough or she breaks it; whether she chooses something different, and you are against it—they're your choices, and the consequences that follow." Her hand encloses around his shihakushou, and the proximity is almost too close for comfort, but she continues, unyielding. "Accept it. Move on. Ichigo – I…" Her eyelashes flutter shut, and she takes a moment to compose herself. "… whatever you do, I'll be with you. Every step of the way. Never forget that."

Kuchiki Rukia means this. And he's always known the truth in her words, and the unending faith in him, even if at times, he can scarcely believe that he deserves it. She is alight and illuminating and beautiful is such a pale word in comparison to her.

Fight for the cause that has the most importance to you. Make sure that every step is worth it.

And never feel alone.

That's what she's saying, that's what he understands.

His frown fades and twitches into a smile; one which she heartily returns. But neither flinches nor averts their eyes when the moment lasts too long, absorbing and indulging in it for every second, it feels so natural and they are completely at ease.

"Ichigo…" Grip lightens, but he still senses the weight of her fingers through the material and pressed against his chest.

Her eyes are so many different colours, and with their intensity, it's a kaleidoscope of perfect azure.

Suddenly, it's so easy, so simplistic and he wonders why he's never done this before.

He narrows the distance between them, until finally—

—there is none.

—

For a giant, he sure is the perfect match. The thought flickers through her mind as her arms encircle his neck, making her lips curve.

It lasts too short. It lasts too long. Bittersweet and clumsy and she's never resisted what she's wanted all along.

… so she laughs as she pulls away, hysterically in laughter and feeling fantastically happy. Because no matter how idiotic Kurosaki Ichigo can be, he can always bring a smile onto her face. Doesn't really care much for the slightly confused expression on his face, it's adorable, but the details hardly matter.

"You damn fool. Why the hell didn't you do this sooner?" Oh, Rukia is so very tempted to slap him so he can kiss her again.

"Shut up!" Red-faced, he snaps back. "Why didn't you?"

… she has no answer for that; heat rushing to her cheeks.

Thus, the only logical conclusion is to silence his thoughts with another kiss.

—

"Rukia? Thank you."

"Any time."

—

Her grin remains on her face for a long time, before it slowly fades, her attention faltering for one moment – as she looks over his shoulder and sees—

It can't be.

"Ichigo." Deep breaths, easy does it.

"What?" His expression changes to one of puzzled concern. Then pain. Possibly because she's holding on to him too tightly.

She chooses Ichigo's happiness over her selfishness. No matter how much dislike Rukia has for Karin for crawling under her skin and taunting her; Karin is, first and foremost, Ichigo's family. And Ichigo worries, Ichigo cares, Ichigo loves Karin so, so much that it breaks his heart.

And so, with a calm voice, after a pause, Kuchiki Rukia says:

"Turn around."

—

A figure slowly approaches, a dark silhouette in contrast with the red stream of light that is known as dusk.

Fucking hell.

It's—it's Karin.

She's back, she returned – and Grimmjow is nowhere to be seen. Yet somehow, Kurosaki Ichigo can't believe it, as he races to her.

For some reason, it doesn't feel real. But—it is.

Karin is here.

But—

"Kami," Ichigo breathes out, stilled by disbelief. "What happened?"

Her hair—long black locks of ebony, that once reached her waist, have disappeared – all that's left is a jagged pattern, clumps of hair with an unlevelled line. Almost reminiscent of how it used to be – back when she was ten and ready to take on the world with a sideways smirk and sardonic remark. Cuts cover her, the stench of dried blood clinging to her body, crusting her clothes – ripped and sandy. And—fuck—is her arm—is it broken?

Did Grimmjow—did he fucking mangle her?

"Ichi-nii." She murmurs, a vague smile spreading, almost thoughtfully on her face. "I'm fine."

Dark blue eyes refuse to meet brown, sliding away, head downcast.

"Fine."

Then her knees buckle, and he remembers that Karin's been lying for most of her life that she has no other alternative to it. Putting up a brave front can only last so long, before all she becomes a mechanic doll repeating words that don't mean a thing. Hurt, pain, emotion, she has tried to ignore them because they terrify her with honesty.

"I'm… fine…"

Her voice continues in a monotone voice, even as he catches her, arms wrapping around her, not saying a word.

And Karin does not fight, nor shy from his contact, desperately seeking it out, though she remains motionless.

"No, you're not." He says, and like a mannequin, her smile dies with the truth. His little sister, at this moment, is so very fragile and broken inside his arms, almost to the point that he's the only thing holding her together. "But you're going to be. I promise."

She does not flinch or look away, but her eyelids droop and she slumps against him.

And silently, oh, so silently, she weeps.

—

How long she stayed there, Kurosaki Karin does not know. Her memory seems unable to recollect the moment where her mind felt too heavy and the only logical response was to shut her eyes. And when she wakes, there's a sense of light-headedness, as well as being in the most comfortable bed for a long time.

"Mm…" Wriggling around on the bed, the girl realizes that she's actually been bandaged up. And this isn't in her cell. "… where's Ichigo?"

"Glad to see you're finally awake." A bored voice grumbles, before waiting long enough to answer her question. "Not here, though not for his lack of trying. Unohana… well, Unohana is a very persuasive captain."

"Sounds like an understatement." Commenting, she can't help but smile, having missed this voice, this company, for quite some time.

He doesn't reply to that, for his own recuperating health, Karin assumes. It's best not to badmouth Fourth Division in the Sick Bay.

"How long have I been here?" It's more mumbled, but drowsiness settles upon her, dissolving into her skin: Karin would still like the answer.

"A week. Maybe more." There's a chance he's lying, but his tone makes her smile, always gruff.

"What about you?"

"Longer. Definitely longer. Still, it's nice to have someone to talk to pass the time." He admits, sounding a little embarrassed about it.

"Oh yeah?" Lashes entwine, breath evens out, and though he talks, his relaxing tone lets her find peace once more with the realm of dream.

—

"Hey." She smiles, as soft locks slant down her neck as she shifts to face him.

"Hey." It's faint, and a tad annoyed, but it's there: the barest hint of a smile. "Not going to fall asleep on me, are you?"

"Only if you get too boring." Grinning, she replies, all too easily. After she stretches her limbs, testing out her capacity, she asks him, laced with quiet concern. "So how are you?"

"Good." Hitsugaya Toushirou nods, seemingly satisfied with that answer, before adding. "I'm better than before."

"What happened?" Karin has never truly understood his behaviour. One moment, he looks at her as if he's a stranger, the next, he's bursting to say something that doesn't seem to add up, another, he's treating her diffidently, a different moment, and he's almost heart wrenchingly intimate… before it all goes back to square one. Distant, crazy, lucid, tender. A pick and mix, right time, wrong occasion, always a tumult on how she had to act with him.

"I was drugged. It… messed me up." That's an understatement. But she's flattered that he trusts her enough to tell her. "But I," Toushirou swallows, apple bobbing, "I remember now."

"Um, what?" She doesn't understand – he's being far too vague. "Is this something to do with you and those pills?"

If he thought she hadn't noticed, then he was an idiot. Pill-popping every second of the day. She'd kind of assumed they were aspirin. Or something. Although, at the rate he had them, judging it to be 'aspirin' was very suspicious.

"The drugs were the pills. They kept my memory suppressed, Karin." Exhaling, Hitsugaya Toushirou explained calmly. "I suppose the previous soutaichou didn't want me to screw up, and decided that erasing part of my memory was the best way to keep the pressure off, warding away distractions. Guess he didn't count on the addiction that developed."

"Huh." Her eyebrows furrow, as she absorbs the information, processing it methodically. And, no matter how she tries to view it, it leads to the same conclusion every single time. "That sounds seriously fucked up."

"… he was an old man." It's not much for an offered excuse, but it'll have to do.

"Still." Lips twitch, but she can't really do anything about it.

"It wasn't his fault. Truthfully, some of it was mine. In order to survive and cope, I repressed a lot of things. Just buried them because I needed to forget. The good, the bad, everything. I just had to." All he wanted to do was focus on Aizen. All the hate, all the thoughts of revenge, however reckless they may be… needed to be directed at Aizen Sousuke. "I think I would have remembered everything on my own, given time. But…"

"I'm sorry." Words can be so meaningless sometimes.

"Don't be." He rolls his eyes, smirking somewhat.

"So, you remember everything?" Mind enquiring, Karin wonders how much she can tease him with the absence of recollection; abruptly changing the subject, into much more light-hearted grounds.

"No. Not everything. But… enough." Hesitant, aquamarine eyes become wistful, discernable eagerness to remember.

"Mm?" She sits up, with difficulty. Karin wants to savour every expression that flickers onto his face. "Enough? How do you define enough?" And now her grin widens, deliciously comfortable with this cheerful banter. "Okay, do you remember that time we…"

"What?" Is he… scared?

"You know." Gazing to the left, adding a little nudge, a wink, a suggestive eyebrow rises. "… with the…" Karin gulps, barely able to say it, words choking on her tongue. So she lowers her voice, and widens her eyes, scanning the area around her beforehand to make sure that they're not being overheard. "On your desk."

The look on his face is priceless.

"What?" Maybe the correct term is panic. Extreme paranoia. "What did we do?"

Taking a breath, Karin looks up, unable to look into his eyes anymore. If she did, then the whole thing would come undone. "… let's just say that after it happened, I doubt any body would look at you in the same way again." She coughs, hastily adding. "But I enjoyed every second of it. And so did you, which is why it happened consecutively, night after night after night…"

His face is rapidly turning into a rich shade of plum. Though it's quite nice on the eyes, it doesn't really suit his snow white hair.

The power of suggestion and imagination is such a delightful thing.

—

Sometimes they speak, deep whispers into the night, when the sky is almost midnight and tantalizing to see. Sometimes they remain in silence, resting because they've thought too much and talked too much.

It's everything and anything and yet somehow it's not enough.

But more days than not, Karin is finding herself stare out that window, the one that entices her with the promise of dawn.

—

"… I used to find it so easy, you know?" She confides in him, wondering he has her trust? "To believe in one thing. To follow one thing. When the world went wrong, all I had was that… and it kept me sane."

Why? Why does she want to cry and cry and breathe him in and be part of him until they can no longer be distinguished as themselves?

Why does she just want to melt and be the salve to his wounds?

Why is Kurosaki Karin so head over heels in love with him, despite everything that happened and caused her to distort everything that is her?

She is not that ten-year-old girl, who hopes and wishes and waltzes with romantic footballs. She is not the fifteen-year-old girl who rages and screams and swings her sword with blind revenge.

But he listens, and he advises. He holds her hand, and pushes her to her limits, catching her as she falls. He soothes her, murmuring words that calm her down, making her see sense, taking care to watch out for her, and despite protesting how reckless she is… he never… he never lets her feel alone. He's always there when she needs it.

And she will never tire of his eyes.

During this time, Hitsugaya Toushirou has made her accept certain things, and let her settle into her skin. Treats her like an equal, and he does care about her, in his own way. And it's not just her; he's grown, surely. He's lightened up, learnt not to be so serious, as he grumbles and moans, and teases her in his somewhat dour manner.

"But…"

"Yeah. I know." He stops and stares at her, piercing so much more than just the soul. "But you can't just live for one purpose. Live for people, hope and dreams, of the future and what might be."

He understands her, and pushes her, improving her limit.

And she likes who she is when she's with him.

So she smiles, not fighting the flush spreading on her cheeks. "Mm. Scarily hard, isn't it?"

"I have no idea of what you're talking about."

Lips twist into a smirk, and Karin mimes airplanes with the latest food.

—

Yet still, she will not allow herself to see Ichigo. And neither does Toushirou let Hinamori visit.

They are hidden from the rest of the world, wishing to be left alone.

—

"I'm still waiting, you know. For your answer."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"What? You're not going to tell me?"

"… nah. It'll give you something to look forward to."

"Ah, when all this is over. All right then, I'll wait a little longer then."

—

It's not here yet, but it's a sure thing coming: a true smile and a real laugh.

—

And so they sleep.

And so they mend.

Resolving to find a bearable future before it's too late.