notes: i love writing this story so much omg


Karin was a hardened teenager; it didn't make her emotionless, but she wasmore likely to squint glaringly at a ghost in her room than someone like Yuzu, who would flutter around and offer a beverage. "Why are you in my room?" she demanded finally, after neither of them spoke for, what felt like, an hour. Better to get that out of the way first. "You do realize who I am, right?"

The ghost's eyebrows furrowed bemusedly and he glanced around.

"You don't?" Karin realized after a moment.

He shrugged, mouth in a thin line. A very attractive—ghostly—mouth in a very attractive—ghostly—line. "Last thing I remember, I was sparring in the dojo. And now I'm here." He gestured around himself. Despite his obvious confusion, he still managed to command the room in a calm and confident way.

She sighed a bit. "Well, I guess it's my duty to tell you…" Pausing for a moment to take a few steps forward, until there were about two inches between them and Karin could see the crystal color of his pupils, "that I'm supposed to get rid of ghosts like you."

His eyes narrowed before he dodged the punch she threw his way, leaping four paces back. "What do you mean 'ghost'?" he wanted to know. "I'm a human being!"

She dropped down on her knees and swept her feet under his. It caught him off guard and he crashed to the floor, gasping. She tried to calm her breathing and stop the adrenaline that was suddenly rushing through her veins. Her blood was pumping, like it always did in such occasions, and she had to remind herself that this was her room, not a battleground, and Yuzu would slit her throat if she made too much of a mess.

"Look again," she snarled, then smirked when he did. "Normal human beings don't glow, dude."

While he was distracted by this new discovery , she brought out the switch-blade she kept hidden in her hair—somewhere between the rubberband that kept it tied and the actual strands themselves—and pounced on his body, keeping him pinned to the floor. "Glowing is a sign of you being dead," she informed casually.

He glared at her but the effect was lessened by the confusion that intermingled. "If I'm already dead, then why are you attempting to kill me?" He nodded at the blade in her hand, readied for striking. It had been a gift from her brother, back in the Danger Days, back when the Kurosakis had to watch their backs every time they turned the corner. A bitter period, yes, a period when Karin could hardly catch her breath from all the running she had to do; but, also, a period that was much better than the suffering that they were subjected to now—full of a discomforting quiet that didn't seem to go away.

"Because you're still here," Karin replied after much deliberation. She could feel him struggling against her hold. Considering their respective statures, it would have seemed surprising to a bystander that she was prevailing; his broad shoulders rippled beneath her fingers, attempting to shove her off.

He had definitely been sparring in a dojo, she mused. But it didn't change the fact that Karin had gone through serious training as an athlete and a Hunter, from a young age. She was confident in the toned limbs that had managed totake care of so many ghosts in the past.

Ghosts were more powerful than regular humans, but not more so than someone who specialized in extinguishing their very existence. Namely, Karin herself.

At least, that's what she was convinced of until she stumbled off his body, his fingers gripping her forearm.

"Yeah," he agreed softly. "I am still here. And I don't think I'm that easy to get rid of."

The self-assurance had her smirking, despite the fact that she was kneeling on the floor as he hovered over her form. His palm sent cold shivers down her skin, not unpleasant. "Tell that to all your comrades who aren't here anymore."

Silver bangs flew into his eyes when he shook his head. Frustrated, she observed. A little annoyed. Certainly confused.

Exactly as a newly created ghost would and should be.

….
….

Hitsugaya Toshiro had absolutely no idea what was going on.

The last thing he recalled was training with one of the women of the dojo—ranked one belt lower than him, but years older. Not that that made her—Matsumoto Rangiku was her name—any more mature, constantly drinking herself into a craze. She had been heavily intoxicated when they were sparring too, he remembered clearly. Kept spinning out of his way with a glint in her eyes.

And he was sure that she had been able to knock him on his back. A blow to his head was a reasonable enough cause to fall unconscious.

But not enough to kill, he thought, sharply glancing at the girl who had kicked a soccerball and tried to use a knife on him. An infuriatingly cheeky grin was growing on her visage, glossy ponytail loosening and strands brushing his nails.

"Why are you doing that?" he demanded. "Stop."

"I don't take orders from you, Ghost Boy," she snapped back. Rather courageously for the girl who his hand was clenching the shoulder of.

"But you should be taking them from me. 'm not one to take lightly."

"Ghost Boy," he repeated blankly. "I can't be a 'Ghost Boy,' for heaven's sake, I'm not dead!"

An unreadable expression began to take over her face just then, grin flushing off her lips.

Was that…pity?

"'Heaven's sake,'" she murmured sympathetically. "A shame you said that, considering it's exactly where you'll never go."

The knife that had, suspiciously enough, disappeared from his view when he had grabbed her, peeked out from her palm, and she drove it into the side of his neck.

Except…he couldn't even feel it.


notes2: thoughts? :D