Disclaimer: Again, neither Bleach not its characters belong to me.
Hope you enjoy!
"Every parting is a form of death, as every reunion is a type of heaven." -Tyron Edwards
Later that night, as he sat on the roof of the house across the street from the Kurosaki's, Hitsugaya regretted his decision even more. There was nothing to do but stare at the stars after Rukia put the lights out. Every hour or so, the lights went back on, but they were turned off a minute or so later. Hitsugaya concluded she was taking those frequent trips to the restroom pregnant women supposedly took all the time and went back to his task of counting stars.
After star number eight thousand, six hundred seventy-two, he felt an unfamiliar reiatsu quickly nearing him. He stood and tensed, readying himself, but the face that accompanied the reiatsu stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Close your mouth; you'll catch flies," the woman said smartly. Her sleeveless black shinigami shihakushou and her long, jet-black hair were caught in the wind, blowing strands into her face. She stood--well, hovered--stoically, with her arms folded across her chest and a scowl on her face. Her intense onyx eyes bore into his as she held his gaze.
"You're Kurosaki's sister," he stated flatly.
"I am, but I usually go by Kurosaki Karin, not 'Ichi-nii's sister,'" she said, raising her chin defiantly.
"My apologies," he said, bowing slightly, but there was a hint of indignant sarcasm in his words.
Karin pursed her lips before speaking. "What are you doing watching my sister-in-law?"
"That really is none of your concern," he answered. "What I would like to know is how are you a shinigami? Last time I checked, you weren't dead." I would have known if you were.
"Neither is Ichigo. Don't brush off my question," she said, redirecting the conversation. "It is my business; she's my family."
"Ichigo is a rare...exemption. And there's no way you should have a Zanpakuto," he said, gesturing to the sheathed weapon at her side.
"Stop that!" she commanded angrily, her fists clenching at her sides. "You can't just answer me?" He kept changing the conversation abruptly, and, whether it was deliberate or not, it was pissing her off. "All I want to know is who you are, why you're watching Rukia, and where you took my brother."
"Oh, is that all?" he asked mockingly. Then he gave her a funny look, and his forehead wrinkled. "You...don't recognize me?"
She paused and licked her lips. "No, I don't. Do we know each other?" she repeated for what felt like the umpteenth time.
He shrugged, and his expression became impassive again. "It's not important," he concluded.
She rolled her eyes, conceding. "Well, what about my other questions?"
"If you must know, I am obeying orders from Soul Society--I am assuming you know about Soul Society even though your shinigami powers are unauthorized and, more than likely, obtained illegally--to watch Kurosaki Rukia. As for the last question, I did not 'take' your brother anywhere; he has been chosen to carry out an assignment for which his...unique strengths seem to be the only ones capable of conducting and completing successfully."
Karin looked at him skeptically. Earlier, all she'd seen was a strange man in her room, one with weird white hair--which had made him look a bazillion years old--and a mannerism of aloof nonchalance that unnerved her. But now that she could get a good look at him--and that she was fully clothed--she could see that, despite his hair color, he was not old. He looked only a few years older than her nineteen, with youthful skin and lean, defined muscles. But his manner of speech said differently: he spoke like he was from a different era altogether.
"You couldn't just say, 'Ichigo had some SS business to take care of and I have to watch Rukia while he's gone.' What's with the old fart explanation?"
She noticed a subtle twitch form in his right eye as he scowled at her.
"I don't need this," he said, flash-stepping a few houses down. I don't need to babysit two semi-humans. Especially two Kurosakis. Especially that Kurosaki. Not again.
He stopped half a mile from Rukia's, still able to sense her reiatsu, just in case. But Kurosaki Karin appeared at his side a moment later.
"My powers may not be 'authorized,' but don't underestimate them," she said, not even panting.
"What do you want?" he growled.
"How do I know you?" she asked, emphasizing choice words.
He sighed, acquiescing. "I thought we were...friends," he stated as simply and unemotional as possible. "But..."
She shook her head and her hardened expression softened. "No, you don't understand," she said, unfolding her arms and holding them out, as if helpless. "I was in an...accident a few years ago. I-I don't remember much of anything."
Now he looked skeptical. "What kind of accident?"
"I don't really know. My brother's friend, Urahara-san, saved me. I woke not only able to see Pluses and Hollows--which I was told I had been able to do before the accident--but I had also manifested my own Zanpakuto, confirming I had gained shinigami powers as well. But I'd lost almost all of my memories. I didn't even know my own name."
She thought he'd say something, but he didn't. He kind of just stared out into the breezy night, strands of his snowy hair blowing in his face and eyes.
She continued. "A friend of Urahara-san's has been helping me control and hone my powers, but my brother doesn't know about my training, of course--he'd freak. So don't you dare tell him!"
"Yoruichi-sama," he offered.
Karin looked nonplussed. "How'd you know?"
"Only the Goddess of the Flash herself could have taught you shunpo so quickly," he stated bluntly.
A moment of semi-awkward silence hung between them in the cool night air.
She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "What's your name?" she asked quietly.
"Hitsugaya Toshiro, Captain of the 10th Division of the Gotei 13."
She smiled. "Toshiro, huh?" She shook her head. "No, doesn't ring a bell. I'm sorry."
He shrugged, but looked a little irritated. "Actually, it's Hitsugaya-taicho," he clarified, folding his arms across his chest defensively.
"Right, of course. I'm sorry, Hitsugaya-taicho," she said apologetically.
His gaze and stance softened. She really doesn't remember me. She would never have addressed me with an honorific, not in a million years.
"So, we were friends?" she asked, sitting on the roof beneath them.
He landed beside her but did not sit. "I guess. I was stationed here a few years ago."
She didn't respond.
"We played soccer once." Why am I trying to help her? I should be grateful she's forgotten.
She shook her head. "Nothing. I usually get some image, some piece of my memory when I'm told about things, places, people I used to know--almost like a photograph--but now...nothing. I'm sorry."
Quit apologizing, he wanted to tell her. What happened to her recalcitrant temper and short fuse?
"I was...younger looking, back then," he offered painfully.
"You're about twenty-five now, right? I tried picturing you as twenty, fifteen even. Still...nothing." She shrugged.
He fidgeted. "Age works a little differently in Soul Society."
She looked up at him. "How so?"
"Well, when we were first friends, I looked about ten years old."
"Then I would have been really young when we were friends, and I wouldn't remember you anyway. Did I know you when you were alive? When did you die?"
He shook his head, growing agitated. Maybe trying to explain this to her was too much. "I didn't say I was ten years old; I said I looked ten, just as I look twenty-five now, and I'm not," he said emphatically.
She stared at him, and he couldn't discern if her wide-eyed look was one of shock or perplexity.
"Hasn't Urahara explained this to you?"
She shook her head.
"What do you know about Soul Society?"
"Admittedly? Very little. Yoruichi-sama's been trying to see if I could attend some sort of school there--she said it'd help my training--but other than that," she shrugged to finish.
"Forget it then," he said, giving up.
"Wait," she said. "I do have this one picture, though. I can't exactly place it, but it looks like you, leaning against a wall or something, and you're texting. It's growing dark. You look...angry, sort of." She shook the image away. "I don't know. I'm still missing pieces."
Hitsugaya's jaw clenched. What was the point of painting the whole picture? That memory would hold no significance anyway.
"How old were you--or how old did you look when you stopped coming around?" she asked when he offered no explanation, eyebrows raised expectantly.
"I was given a new commission," he clarified tersely. I didn't have a choice. "But I looked about nineteen, twenty, I guess."
"How old was I?"
He paused before answering, like he was waiting for something--or remembering something, and she saw his jaw clench again. "Almost sixteen."
"We were good friends," she stated matter-of-factly.
Hitsugaya did not answer and he would not look down at her.
Karin sat in silence, wanting to know more but feeling as if his icy demeanor would blast her. She couldn't figure him out.
She sighed when he still offered no response. "Whatever. It doesn't matter, I guess." She paused, contemplating her next question before throwing caution to the wind. "Could I see you're Zanpakuto?"
He turned to face her and his frown deepened. "No," he said, almost angrily.
"Why not?"
"Because it's against regulation. A Zanpakuto is not some human child plaything; it is a weapon. I will not parade mine like an exhibit in a museum," he bit.
Karin furrowed her brow; she hadn't expected such a harsh reaction.
After a few moments of deafening silence, she, unable to take it any longer, stood and stretched. "So. You're here, on assignment, to watch Rukia, right?"
"Yes."
"Good. Then your assignment is not to take care of the Hollows in town. I'd appreciate it if that task continued to be left to me," she said smugly.
He bristled. "You're not a shinigami; you're not even a substitute shinigami. It's not your duty to carry out. While the substitute shinigami is away, I will deal with the Hollows in town."
She frowned. "Well, if I'm not a shinigami, that means you're not my commanding officer. I don't have to do as you say."
"By your reasoning, then, I should apprehend you for crimes against Soul Society and retain you to Seireitei for sanction."
"You wouldn't dare."
He almost smirked. "Want to bet?"
She sized him up for a moment, then resigned. "Fine," she said. She started to leave, then turned back to glare at him, an angry fire ablaze in her eyes. "See you 'round...Toshiro," she spat.
Then she was gone.
He sighed. I hate the world of the living.
Inside him, however, a part of him he'd thought long since dead was seeing sunshine for the first time.
He did not have regrets. The past was the past. The end. But the few short years he'd been her "friend" had opened his eyes--and, though he'd never admit it, his heart--to something new. Something he nearly regretted losing, not fighting for.
He'd sworn never to let personal ties develop during or because of an assignment.
But it was about to happen all over again.