My only attempt at angsty HitsuKarin. To avoid confusion, anything in italics but not in brackets is a flashback, and thing in italics and brackets is a thought, and anything in italics and underlined is something written down.

Summary: He left. And she really, really hates him now. HitsuKarin. One-shot. Angst-ish.

Warning: infrequent strong language


A long time.

It's been such a long time. I know I'm staring and I know he knows that, but he won't meet my eyes. Because of guilt? Shame? Embarrassment? Denial? Sadness? Hate? To ignore me? Regret? Surprise? Disgust? ...To make me feel such, perhaps. (I imagine he thinks I certainly deserve it in that twisted mind of his, although I am inclined to disagree.)

Because he won't? Because he can't?

I don't know. I really just don't know him anymore. I sometimes wonder if I ever really did... Or maybe I only trusted him too much and hoped for what I now know is obviously impossible.

(I just expected too much.)

Someone brushes against my arm, my elbow, quite lightly, but it's enough to make me blink and look away. I don't blush in embarrassment or try to sneak more peeks at him slyly, like I know Yuzu would (no matter what he did. She forgives too easily). I don't run over to him and slam him into a wall, screaming almost incoherently, like Ichigo (and maybe Goat-face Isshin) would. In fact, if it was anyone else or I was asking for a different explanation (or just looking for a chance to deck them for what they did) I would do the same as the males of my family.

(...Actually, if they were here I wouldn't be surprised if they did that for me.)

But when it comes to him... I really could not care less. Sure, I did a double take at the familiar form and I did gasp a little under my breath when I realised that it definitely was him… But that doesn't mean anything.

Stupid heartless bastard. And I really thought he cared. Honestly, I should have known that he would leave (me). He was never one to break rules. But he was willing to bend them, for a little while. But of course, his Soutaicho tells him how high and he jumps. The second that other cold heartless bastard found out, he ordered him to go back and never see me again, and he just followed orders and did exactly that.

Not even a goodbye.

No explanation. No hesitation. Not even for a second did he consider staying or trying to arrive to a compromise. He just left. Went for the meeting and never came back. I only found out because of his lieutenant.

(I haven't seen her for ages either, I guess I should start calling her by her last name... if I ever see her again.)

And she only managed to slip away after the tight watch on her captain and his subordinates had been lifted slightly. She sneaked back with help from Ukitake, Rukia, and surprisingly enough Kuchiki. (Even though he seems like a cold hearted bastard also, she explained that although he jumps at how high even if he doesn't always like it, he knows that if it comes to love... If, for example, Hisana had been human, he would have stayed with her, no matter the cost. He thinks it is the one thing more important than the rules. Funnily enough, for some strange reason, I like him.)

She had only managed to stay long enough to explain what had happened.

She is smiling at my shocked expression, but it's more a grimace than anything. Her bubbly reflex stutters and stops when I get angry, and upset. Now she's quiet, guilty, and I look down, not finding it in me to say it's not her fault. She stands and walks over to the doorway. I register her movement but don't really care. She turns back and looks at me, eyes tight and shiny, making me finally concentrate on her. She has something to say.

"I want you to know, Karin-chan, that I wasn't sent here by Taichou at all. He was told not to contact you, to not even think of you, and I'm sure he listened when Soutaichou threatened to revoke his captaincy." She draws a deep breath. Takes a few moments before she continues. "I would like to apologise for him, but I won't, because I truly believe that for once, he is wrong," She looks up again, eyes fierce, "You have every right to hate him. And for a while, I will too. And he'll know that, I'm sure. We're not allowed to talk about you, of course, but I'll make sure he understands.

"...Is there anything you would like me to tell him, from you?"

I stare at the wall for lack of anything else to do. For once, I'm not in one of my rages where I just need to do something with my hands, break something, or run. I swallow, clearing my throat and my thoughts.

"There are many things I would like to say to him," I speak quietly, despite my anger. "Some more important and less petty than others… Asking you to tell him he's a stupid idiot that should be drowned in his own spit is hardly going to help," Matsumoto smiles, and I just know that however she gets my point across, she's going to add that onto the end. "But I think that he should know..."

I take a deep breath, steeling myself to say it. To admit it.

"He made me cry. And I won't forgive him for that. He doesn't deserve it."

I look up at her, pleading with my eyes for her to understand all the things that I'm trying to say with only a few simple words, but it's groundless. She smiles, watery, understanding, sisterly and motherly, and I think it's a good thing she didn't give me a hug because I know it would have been so hard to let go.

She disappears and I finally let myself cry, just one more time.

I was left to try to piece my (now-normal-with-no-afterlife-rubbish) life back together, with a vital part missing. He was important to me, so important to me, and I let him in. He wanted that, he let himself become irreplaceable.

I hate him. I love him. I long for him to just look at me! I loathe the idea of having to talk to him. I'm glad that his lieutenant offered to be my voice, I know I could never have done it myself. I would've broken down and started crying and screaming because he let me... he made me feel again. I cried so easily. The tears just kept on falling, I felt like Alice in freaking Wonderland. I never even got angry, not until I was told what had happened.

(Wasn't what I thought had happened at all... I thought you died, you bastard... I was crying for you)

After that, I can't seem to cry anymore. I still get angry, (especially when thinking of him, which is often, I admit) and with a select few I still laugh and smile. I still live. I've had loves after him, but not a single one... completed me like he did. They didn't change me, didn't make me feel as much as he did. I tried to live as Yuzu does, just without the dresses or the many girly girlfriends or household duties or the just plain sweetness that is my little twin sister, but it didn't really work.

But there have been some positive effects (I think anyway).

Whenever another love ends, or I lose another irreplaceable, or something really bad happens, when others cry because of it, I don't. I'm stronger. I do, or did, better in my studies because of fewer distractions (no more boys climbing in through my window and keeping me up all night, no siree). I got closer to the people that comforted me: I'm pretty sure Ichigo had a word with said idiotic bastard the next time he went to Seretei. Yuzu and I are almost inseparable. Even Isshin seems less annoying. I didn't get nicer in general to the people around me, the complete opposite, but most welcomed the change back to the old me. It was almost a relief to go back to those old patterns, to the familiar. It was a relief to know it was still familiar, even after I'd reconfigured everything around him.

But I digress, back to the present (which technically doesn't actually exist but that's for a time when I feel like having another lengthy conversation with my poetic friend Kon).

I eye him, and I know my gaze is accusing and longing and hating but mainly thoughtful. He's barely visible behind a couple not-so-spaciously distanced from one another as they talk into each other's ears. The lighting arrangements don't help, it's just dark enough for everything to seem fuzzy. I can only see his head and a little of his neck, so I'm unsure as to whether he's in Shinigami form or gigai. I watch as his head slowly, ever so slowly, starts turning. It's in the wrong direction and down, to look even further away from me, but it casts away any doubts of him unaware of me and my eyes on him.

It also brings a sword hilt into view, meaning I'm the only human in here that can see him. I turn back around and lean on the bar. Twirling the umbrella around in my drink, I stab the sharp end into the rather large piece of pineapple that's part of my low in alcohol content, colourful, basically-fruit-with-some-alcohol cocktail. Chewing slowly and in contemplation, I start to ponder. I'm here, he's here. Why is he here? I know why I'm here.

Damn Urahara. Telling me to have a night out or a night in his basement. Before I start vaguely planning to go down that road, I know he didn't plan this, even if he wanted to and had ideas, he would never actually set them in motion. I guess I could call him friend, even if he'll never say the same seriously (but his actions are enough for me to feel confident). And he didn't know I'd decide to come here anyway (the fact that there aren't exactly very many clubs in Karakura and that everyone who knows I only go to this one is irrelevant).

That means this rather irritating and convenient situation is either, A, coincidence, or B, someone planned it.

Option A. He just wandered into the Living World, chose his old hangout, and then decided to come to this particular club.

Right.

Option B. Someone told him I'd be here? Nah, I don't think that would work (definitely not). He's probably here because of some reason other than me. The one who planned all this? Or perhaps a co-conspirator. Or, he was told a white lie so he would come here. Probable.

So what do I do?

Immediately a little voice pops up.

(Do? You don't have to do anything. Let the asshole know you still think he's scum. He doesn't deserve your time, and going over there would be wasting it.)

And that leaves...

(Not doing anything at all about this, and just letting things unravel.)

Sounds good. Means that is very likely I won't have to be in a ten feet radius of him. I highly doubt that he will seek me out. So if I do nothing, we will have to wait for some... divine intervention! My favourite.

(I don't want to look towards him. What if he's here with someone? ...Doesn't matter. I don't care, I wouldn't even be envious. Nope. No. Not envious. Just angry at his gall. Yes.)

I would have liked to add how happy I currently was with my boyfriend, but as of last month, I have none. It was good while it lasted, but he was developing feelings for someone else. I ended it gently before I found him cheating. In my bed. Like-

Ah, let's stop there.

I glance at my wrist, taking in the time on my slim, pretty, borrowed-from-Yuzu watch. I think leaving at three in the morning isn't too bad, right? Yuzu left a while ago... And I've been here since twelve.

A little thought winds up pushing to the front of my mind.

(Has he been here from the start? Did he know before I did?)

Again, it doesn't matter either way I suppose. Whether he showed up ten minutes ago when I spotted him, or he arrived before I did or while I was here, he either didn't know I was here, or he did and chose to do nothing. Quelle surprise.

"Stupid bastard."

I mutter lowly as I down the rest of my drink, not looking towards that particular spot.

"Idiotic cold-hearted asshole."


Leaving the packed club is taking a little while. I know my way around but it's a Saturday, and due to its popularity, it can be expected that you can't take one pace without bumping into someone. Luckily when I last looked, the very last (or very first) person I want to bump into is on the other side of the dance floor.

Finally getting outside, I take a deep breath of relatively clean air.

I congratulate myself on my earlier choice of selecting my two-inch heeled boots, rather than the four-inch strappy shoes Yuzu offered, which even I knew suited my pathetically skimpy outfit better. I'm still not good at walking in tall heels, but you'll never get me to admit it. I'm too good for the shoes, you see.

Slinging the long strap of my purse over my shoulder, I start walking in a fairly straight line back towards the clinic, almost wincing and thinking I should have put plasters on my feet. I shiver and wish I had thought to bring a jacket. At least I'm not wearing a skirt.

As I make my way further into the emptier parts of town, the silence begins to creep up on me. It makes me feel so alone.

Someone like me finds it hard to admit when they're drowning, but Yuzu notices all. She noticed my apathy, my trouble sleeping, my anger at everything. She begged me to see a therapist, and to make her happy, I did. And I'm better now. But I still have those moments...

All his fault.

And I can't... I can't...

Mainly I'm hating him, but underneath I'm always loving him. Like the bottom of the sea. It doesn't change, and while it may be dark, it's quiet and calm and peaceful and to live there must feel so right. The surface has storms, and boats and currents and many creatures, so it's never still. While I'm hating him, or thinking about what he did and how it affected me, a hidden, quieter part of me is still wishing I could see him one last time. One part of me hates myself for that. Another also wants to see him, but only so I can confront him face to face and make him feel all the shame and guilt and regret he fucking deserves to. Another part cowers at the very idea of confronting him. A larger part wants him to come back, but an even larger section of my heart just wants to forget.

I sigh.

Looking up, I see the familiar sign of the clinic.

I knew, somehow, that I would never move away. Even after Isshin retired, and stayed, that wasn't a good enough reason to go. Ichigo left, a long time ago now, moving to Tokyo and the bustling, bright, populated hugeness of the largest city in the world. I miss my brother, but... (not as much as I do -did, damn it, did!- him, so it's okay. I can deal). Yuzu didn't leave, or, she hasn't yet. (I'm just waiting patiently for her to move into Urahara's. Honestly, even a tomboy like me knows that that red-haired brat is in love with her.) So I stayed at the clinic, Yuzu stayed in our old room and Goaty kept his. I moved into Ichigo's.

(Because he would look in Yuzu's room, and because he knows the way to both.)

Everything I do seems to be about him in some way. Sometimes I try to rationalize, and say it's because I hate him. I'm only doing it because I hate him.

I'll stay in Karakura, he'll think I've gone so he won't look here. Ichigo's room, he won't know. I'll cut my hair really short, shorter than before, he'll probably think I'm a guy. I'll go to the fair, I still haven't won that stupid toy perfect for tearing to pieces. I'll have watermelon again, just to spite him. Keep those football shoes just so I can kick him in the face with them. Keep the signed tee so I can burn it while he's watching. I'll drink green tea to remember how much I hate it.

But every time, I can think of a much more plausible reason, and I know that I'm just making sad, obvious excuses (and that god damn it you asshole I miss you).

I'll stay in Karakura, so he knows where to find me. Ichigo's room, he knows where the window is. I'll cut my hair really short because he likes short hair. I'll go to the fair, we always used to try and win that huge stuffed dragon. I'll have watermelon again, because it's what he always ate on a warm day. Keep those football shoes because they're his size too. Keep the signed tee because it smells of him. I'll drink green tea to remember how much he loves it.

In another time the memories surfacing might have made me cry, but instead I just stare at the front door, expressionless. I shake my head and then reach for my keys. Opening in the door I blink in the darkness and deduce that everyone must have gone to bed already. I reach for the light at my left as I step inside. Looking down, I carefully take off Yuzu's lent footwear and place them to the right, next to her own. Which are next to some ratty trainers that look familiar... So that's who she met at the club! I should've known... I chuckle quietly and shake my head. Finally.

Turning as I close the door, I stop and stare. What was that? I shake my head again negatively and close the door with a soft click.

And I stare again.

Because there's a note and I would recognise that writing style anywhere. It's old-fashioned somehow, tiny and neat, looking perfect enough for it to be done by a computer.

Kurosaki Karin

My right hand lifts up, then drops back down. I grimace and form a fist. I breathe out and then reach up again, damning myself for having shaking hands over a stupid note. I pick it off the door, rubbing the little mark the cello tape left from being pulled off. I examine it, passing a finger over my inked name. It smudges a little. So it was written recently.

Suddenly I feel so angry, so so angry at what will be a ''Dear Karin, you stupid human, I apologise so sincerely for abandoning you, 'love' from, Mr. Captain''. What is he thinking, leaving a fucking letter! If he wants to tell me something, or explain or apologise or try to justify his pathetic actions, he should say it to my face! Especially if he's here and he saw me and he knew where I was! Am I not worthy of his presence!

Do I not deserve an apology?

And everything changes again and now I only really want to cry. (I just want to see you again... Why? Why did you leave? Do I mean so little to you? ...I'll forgive you if you just come back... please?) My sight gets a little blurry and my eyes start to sting slightly. I stare, eyes not focusing, at the door.

A stupid little letter making me come the closest to crying in years?

Hell no. No.

I reach up a hand, still focused on the paper and not looking up, and lock the door. I try my hardest to remain angry and not sad, flicking off the lights and stalking up in the near total darkness to Ichigo's room. I mean, my room. Dropping the bag I close the door with my foot and then turn on the lamp next to my bed. I sit down slowly, anger dissipating, turning into morbid curiosity.

Turning the letter around, I peel off the tape and unfold it, smoothing it out on my knee.

I'm amazed at the sheer amount of things he managed to squeeze onto such a small piece of paper.

Karin. Firstly, an apology. I am so, so sorry for what I did. I do not know what you thought happened, but whatever you think and feel of me now, I truly deserve. The first few days (months, really) I could not believe what I had done. Leaving you without a goodbye or even a proper reason for going. I hate myself for what I have done. But I cannot help hoping that somehow, someday, you'll forgive me. I know that it is selfish and I do not deserve it, that someone better than I would say that you knowing I am sorry is enough. For me, it is not. I do not know what you were told by Matsumoto, or what exactly you said to her, or what you would say now, or if you even want to see me again. But I have to ask, to know. Would you be willing to meet me? Perhaps it is too much to ask, but I will wait for you.

I love you. I will always love you.

Hitsugaya Tōshirō

I'm staring again. I feel a strange emotion rising in my chest. For a second I think it's anger, or sadness. I frown, that's not it. It's something I haven't felt in so long, it takes me a horrifyingly long time to place it.

I'm... hopeful. So happy because he loves me... and because I'll see him and... because he apologised. And that's really all he needed to do, right from the very start. Even if a part of me is still angry, still thinking defiantly, No! A letter doesn't make it all better! It's not good enough! It's small. So small I'm almost ashamed.

I stand up, dazed and confused. What? I slowly read it again, and everything becomes clear.

A few seconds later I'm downstairs again, shoving my shoes on - the ones he brought me. I throw open the door, pausing for just a second to close it quietly. Then I'm running, letter clutched in one hand, other working furiously to put on the jacket I had the sense to grab before exiting my room. I finally get it on, having crumpled the letter even more in shoving it through the sleeve.

(I wonder what you look like now...)

My thoughts whisper to me, every last one of them about him. Why now? Did he -we- finally get permission? Is he here on orders? Has he come against orders? Have they taken away his captaincy? Has he left? Is it just a quick visit? A face-to-face, just like I said I wanted?

Has something happened to make him have to see me now?

(What's going to happen after this? …What is going to happen after this? Are you leaving me again? … Oh God...)

Glancing up, I see where my feet have taken me. The letter never said where we should meet, but I knew from the start (just like I knew I would forgive you, because Yuzu and I are so alike in the end). I take a right, skidding around the corner. I look up.

He's there. He's there! (and I'm struggling not to smile). Waiting for me, sitting on the railing, as always. He's the wrong way around, facing away from where the sky would be, but my mind doesn't linger on that, my thoughts running a mile a minute as I try to absorb everything at once.

From what I can see from this distance (I'm a little short sighted, but no way am I getting glasses), he's in a gigai now, so he probably visited Urahara. He looks taller, and there's no phone in sight; he's got his hands in his pockets. But so many things are almost exactly the same. His half-slouch. The way his hair spikes. He turns his head towards me and even though I've been running for a while, only now does my breath catch.

His eyes.

And suddenly I'm there, in front of him, breathing a little heavily. I thank the lamppost right next to us, because I can see him properly.

My memory hasn't done him justice.

The hair hasn't changed, a part still hanging over his left eye, the rest still anti-gravity. He looks older. Somehow he seems to have aged as much as I have. He stands up quickly, blinking in surprise, and he's just a little taller than me, rather than exactly the same height. He's still slim, his eyes look the same, guarded, apart from a look of guilt and regret showing through.

I can't help but throw my arms around him, and cling onto him, even though half of me is saying he'll pull away. I thank the lords that I'm not crying anymore. That almost changes as his own arms go around my waist, and he pulls me closer, face pressed into my neck. We stay like that for a while. I don't want to move right now, just knowing he's here, just feeling that safety his presence always gave me, the peace. But eventually we pull apart, if only a little, and I stare at his face, hands unconsciously forming fists in his clothes to stop him from being able to get away.

"Here, you're here," I whisper, my hands going to his face. He stares down at me, yet to say anything. "How?"

Somewhere a part of me is almost afraid of the answer.

And then, he smiles. And my breath stops altogether, because he is beautiful. I struggled to believe he wanted me, before, and I still do now.

"Before I answer that question there is something I have to do."

He says it softly. His voice is deeper, much deeper. It's all I can think of for a second then his words make sense in my head. I almost frown; does he have to go somewhere? But I don't, because he's calm and relaxed and he hasn't moved.

"Which is?"

He leans down slowly, watching me, and my breath stops again.

(Isn't it funny, how much you affect me? Damn asshole, you've made me feel more in the past few minutes than anyone else has in years.)

Our lips touch. It feels like a homecoming. His hands rise to my shoulder blades, and one of mine goes into his hair and I'm damning him with all my heart and mind now, finally, because now I know I'll never be able to let him go. If he leaves again, this time, I won't be able to handle it. I won't survive. Not after this, not after knowing how he could undo so much hurt so simply.

(I'm so weak when it comes to you. I hate it.)

Gasping for air, I stare at him and think that I had no idea what I was missing.

"I'm staying... with you. I'm staying with you."

He says, hardly seeming to believe it himself, burying his head into my shoulder again. My mouth is open and I can't close it. Then I just crumple in his grip.

And I cry. I cry for everything I lost, everything I just gained, and all that happened in between. I cry angrily for having forgiven him so easily, in shame for having hated him, happily for loving him.

I cry because I can, even though I don't want to be able to.

And it's the best and worst thing he's ever given me.

"I love you, Hitsugaya Tōshirō."


Yes, terribly cliché, but if you're only going to do one angst-ficlet it might as well have everything packed in there.