Author's Note: This chapter was written for BeastMedley, who won my review challenge and came in with the 600th review of my fic, "Twin Moons." Girlfriend, this one's for you. And when your mom asks why you have a grin on your face eating pancakes, tell her the chappie was PG rated, please! *winks* Enjoy, ya'll! -Lex
Chapter Four: Openings and Okonomiyaki* (HitsuKarin)
"Damn Kurosaki's," Hitsugaya Toushirou muttered under his breath. "Unpredictable, headstrong and impulsive." His turquoise eyes were the color of a mile-deep glacier, cold, hard, and unforgiving.
It was midnight, he was tired and, as ever, undeniably grumpy. Truth be told, though, Hitsugaya Toushirou was far more uncomfortable than he was angry about the interruption. Having her show up on his doorstep – in his personal quarters at the Tenth Division – was simply more than he could tolerate. It simply was unheard of. It was…unsettling.
Why me? he wondered, his frown so deep, the lines on his forehead threatened to become permanently etched there. She could have gone anywhere. Matsumoto's quarters. Rukia's.
Rukia would have been the most logical choice, of course. And yet, there she was, sitting on a cushion in his living quarters, sulking.
He hadn't seen her in nearly ten years. She had been no more than a child then, stubborn and reckless, just like her brother. In all fairness, when she had shown up on his doorstep in the Seireitei, dressed only in a summer Yukata, he hadn't even recognized her.
We've both changed, he thought, keenly aware of the hint of stubble on his chin.
That he was no longer a child had become the source of relentless teasing on the part of Matsumoto Rangiku, always quick to take the motherly approach with him (except when indulging in sake, of course). As he grew in stature and his body began to change, she would alternately pinch his cheek and then try to set him up on a date with some low-ranked shinigami she and Abarai Renji had 'picked out' for him.
The other Gotei 13 captains had, with varying degrees of success, also managed to embarrass him on occasion about his 'growth spurt'. Ukitake Juushirou had, only last week, noted the fact that Toushirou now towered over Rukia, one of the tiniest shinigami in the Seireitei, and that he finally had reached Kenpachi Zaraki's chin. Hitsugaya was still quite narrow through the hips, slim and fit, although his chest now sported clearly-defined abs which Yachiru had, in her ultimate wisdom, dubbed his 'egg carton'. Pointing out to her that the more modern, hip description of the muscles there was a 'six pack' had not changed her mind.
Better eggs than Jell-O, he thought, with a smirk.
Kurosaki Karin, on the other hand, had changed in ways that left Hitsugaya Toushirou decidedly uncomfortable. Her hair - no longer the shoulder-length bob that he remembered from their short-lived friendship in the Real World - was now a deep, glossy brown that ran over her shoulders in a way that reminded him of chocolate melting on a hot day. Her face, having long-since shed its baby-fat, was still slightly heart-shaped, with the trademark Kurosaki chin. That was where her resemblance to her brother and father ended, however. Now, her cheekbones were high, her lips fuller than he remembered, the blush on her cheeks more obvious. She was, he was loathe to admit, quite beautiful.
Focus, Hitsugaya, focus, he chastised himself. You need to think of how to get her out of here and back to the Senkaimon.
He simply did not have time for this angst. His, not hers, of course. He took a deep breath and walked back into his quarters from the small garden outside.
"Let me have Matsumoto take you back to the gates," he said, plastering on a smile for good measure.
She looked up and glared at him. "I told you, I'm not going back."
He sighed. What the hell do I do now?
"I understand that you and your father had a little dis -"
"Not a disagreement," she supplied, darkly.
"-difference of opinion," he finished, quickly. "But I'm sure, given time, he will come around."
"Look, Toushirou," she said, hands crossed across her chest. "I told you, I'm not looking for a shoulder to cry on. I just need a place to stay for the night. I'll go see Yamamoto-sama in the morning about admission to the Academy."
"It's Hitsugaya-taicho," he corrected, quite patronizingly. "And don't you think maybe Rukia-chan would be a better choice of a roommate?"
"She's dating my brother," Karin replied, from between gritted teeth. Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow. "You really didn't know?" she laughed, seeing his expression. "Good lord, you really are clueless, aren't you?"
He scowled but said nothing. He had heard it before – how out of touch he was - most recently from Hisagi Shuuhei, newly-minted Captain of the Ninth Division. Hearing it from her lips made his face feel slightly hot. He turned on his heel and walked into the kitchen, shaking his head all the while and saying things, under his breath, that would have made his grandmother blush.
She's still a damn brat.
He heard footsteps behind him, but he ignored them.
"I'm hungry," she announced.
Really, he thought. What a surprise.
"You're the host," she continued, "you're supposed to offer me something to eat."
"I…," he began, choking back the stream of expletives that threatened to fly out from his lips.
"What do you have to eat?" she asked, looking over his shoulder into the kitchen. The heat of her breath on his shoulder led him to shiver slightly, and he quickly moved all the way into the kitchen to put some distance between them.
Shit, he thought, as his body responded of its own accord. She moved closer, and he wondered briefly if she realized the effect she was having on him. Dismissing the thought as ridiculous, he proceeded to set water on the stove for tea.
"Well?" she prompted. "I mean, tea is fine, but I was hoping for something a bit more…substantial. I haven't eaten since this morning."
"It's nearly midnight," he said. "What have you been doing all day?"
"Walking," she said. "Around the Rukongai."
"The Rukongai?" he spat out, clearly disturbed at this pronouncement. "That's far too dangerous for…"
She reached down to her side and touched the hilt of her zanpakuto, then glared at him. "I'm perfectly capable of defending my honor," she replied. "In fact, I'm perfectly capable of attending the Academy, too, even if my father disagrees."
"I'm sure he has his reasons," he said, equivocally, trying not to take sides.
"Of course he does," she answered, "although every one of them begins with 'my beautiful, sweet daughter can't'. Fill in the blank."
He opened a cabinet over the stove.
"Pancakes?" he offered.
She frowned at this change of tack.
"Pancakes for dinner," he said, as if she were particularly slow. "You said you were hungry."
"Hn," she replied, shrugging.
"Pancakes, then," he said, figuring that was the best he would get from her in her current, emotionally-compromised state.
"I didn't know you knew how to cook," she said, eyeing him warily.
"I don't," he answered, with a dismissive flick of the wrist. "Matsumoto picked me up a few boxes, last time she went shopping."
"Shopping? Where do you find instant pancake mix in the Seireitei?" she asked, at a loss.
"Not in the Seireitei," he replied. "In Karakura."
"Karakura?" she ventured. "Why Karakura?"
Shit, he thought. Let's see how you explain this one, Mr. I'm-in-control-here-dammit Hitsugaya-taicho.
"She…," he began, hesitating slightly, "she has a few stores she likes to go to there. You know, some of the places she went to when we were there years ago, before the war."
"She goes shopping in Karakura?" Karin repeated, dumbfounded. "You expect me to believe that, of all the places she could sneak off to, she goes there? What kind of an idiot do you think I am, Toushirou?"
"Hitsugaya-taicho."
"You haven't answered my question," she said, rounding on him. "Why is Matsumoto shopping in Karakura?"
"Because I asked her to," he mumbled, almost incoherently.
"Can you please repeat that," she said, frowning. "I'm not sure I understood you."
"She went to Karakura because I asked her to," he repeated, so loudly that his voice echoed through the small kitchen, causing several glasses on a nearby shelf to ring. His face was pink.
For a moment, Karin was silent. Hitsugaya, hoping she would drop the issue, proceeded to pull the box open and dump its contents into a small, metal bowl.
"You sent her to Karakura to check up on me, didn't you?"
"I don't know what you mean," he said, taking out a measuring cup from a drawer and filling it with water.
"You know exactly what I mean, don't you, Toushirou?" she parried, her frown now looking a bit less menacing than before.
Hitsugaya poured the water into the mix and quickly grabbed a spoon from a nearby holder, stirring the mix and making sure his eyes remained fixed on the bowl. It was safer that way, he reasoned.
"I…," he stammered, utterly mortified. He guessed that, by now, his face was a brilliant shade of fuchsia. Kyouraku Shunshui's favorite pink floral kimono came to mind. She moved closer to him, nearly pinning him against the counter. He breathed a sigh of relief that, at least, she could not see his face.
"Well? Am I right?"
He hesitated briefly, realizing that if he continued to stir the batter at this pace for much longer, they would have hard tack for dinner instead of pancakes. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, "Yes. You're right."
There was dead silence in the kitchen.
Shit. Now what?
"You've been keeping an eye on me since I was a kid, haven't you?" she asked. She sounded more stunned than angry, and he breathed a slight sigh of relief.
"I…," he hesitated, uncharacteristically, wondering when it had gotten so hot in the kitchen. "Yes. I was concerned for your welfare."
She laughed softly. "Concerned for my welfare? That's a first," she said, shaking her head.
"Your father and brother are concerned for your welfare, too," he retorted, defensively.
"Not like that," she replied.
"Surely the reason Isshin is so adamantly opposed to…," he began.
"He isn't opposed to the Academy because he's worried I'll get hurt," she said, interrupting him. "He's just afraid to see me leave. And Ichigo…," she paused, briefly, "Ichigo's here so much, I'm the one left chasing hollows."
It was true. Hitsugaya had seen Kurosaki in the Soul Society so often in recent months, he had begun to wonder when Yamamoto would slap a haori on the kid and fill the last remaining open captaincy in the Gotei 13.
Hitsugaya reached over the small stove and pulled out a frying pan from a high cabint, pouring a touch of oil into it and lighting the flame underneath with a flick of his wrist.
"I didn't know you could do fire," laughed Karin, happy for a break in their discussion.
"Learned how my first year at the Academy," he replied, casually. "I'm still not very good at it."
Hitsugaya poured a small bit of the batter into the frying pan and it sizzled slightly. Then, hoping to distract from the previous topic, he offered, "Would you like to cook a few?"
"I don't know how to cook," she replied, slightly sheepishly. There were, of course, plenty of things she could do, she observed. Cooking, however, was one thing that Yuzu had never been willing to compromise on – or at least not since Karin had nearly burned the house down when the twins were eight years-old. Yuzu was the sole cook and bottle washer chez Kurosaki.
"It's not difficult," he replied, turning to look at her. "It's a little bit like handling a sword – it just takes a little practice." And then he did something that shocked her completely: he smiled.
"Alright," she said, taking the spatula from him and looking warily at the pan.
"Wait until you see bubbles around the edges of the pancake first," he advised, in much the same patronizing tone she guessed he used to give sparring pointers to his squad members.
"Now," he said, "take the spatula and run it along the bottom of the pan at an angle, until you get it centered under the pancake."
She made a face of intense concentration and angled the spatula high.
"Not quite that much of an angle," he said, putting his hand on her elbow and guiding her. She swallowed hard and bit her tongue. It was not, however, the daunting task of flipping the pancake that had her sweating. He was close – too close to her.
"Now you're going to gently turn it over," he said, putting his left arm around her waist and onto the handle so that both of his hands now lay on top of hers. He lifted the spatula with her, and the pancake settled back gently onto the pan. He was intensely away of how close his face was to hers.
"What now?" she asked, vaguely aware that she was no longer asking about pancakes.
"You have to wait a minute or two, just until you see the edge of the bottom begin to turn light brown," he replied, his hands still on hers, despite the fact that the spatula was no longer being used.
He inhaled, the smell of cooking pancake mixing with the scent of her – fresh, clean, slightly citrusy.
"Now?" she asked, glancing at him. He nodded, and they scooped the pancake off the flame, putting in gently on a plate he had set on the counter. He released her hands, and she laid the spatula on the counter. Then, as she had seen him do minutes before, she poured a bit of the batter into the pan.
"Want to try it?" he asked, reaching over to the plate and pulling a piece off the pancake. She reached out her hand to take it, but he put it to her lips and she opened her mouth with a look of mild amusement.
What the hell are you doing, Hitsugaya? he wondered, vaguely, as he brushed a crumb from her chin. Between her brother and father, you'll need to spend a week recovering in Intensive Care at the Fourth if you keep this up…
"It's good," she said, smiling and looking at him as if considering her options.
He picked off another piece, grabbing the spatula in his other hand and flipping the pancake on the grill before it burned. He lifted the piece of pancake to her lips once more and she took it, but before he could withdraw his hand, she had taken his fingers in her own hand and brought them to her lips. He sighed, audibly.
"Why didn't you come to the Real World yourself?" she asked, his fingers still only inches from her lips.
"I didn't think you'd want me to bother you," he said, simply, figuring it was best to be honest.
"You wouldn't have bothered me," she replied, still holding his hand, but letting it fall slightly and moving closer to him. "In fact, I missed you after you left, you know."
"I didn't know that," he said. He had often wondered whether she had thought much about him since the soccer game.
She was so close now, he felt slightly dizzy.
"You've changed," she said, smiling.
"You, too," he replied, for lack of anything better to say.
"I'm sorry I showed up on your doorstep like some little kid," she offered, looking slightly contrite. "But, truth is, I didn't want to see Matsumoto or Rukia. I wanted to see you."
"I'm glad," he said, waving his hand gently at the fire under the pan and covering it with a sheen of ice to extinguish the flame.
She took her hand and ran it gently over the back of his neck, running her fingers through his white hair. He closed his eyes at the touch and put his arm around her waist. Then, gently, with the taste of pancake still on her lips, he kissed her.
"Tastes good," he said.
"Mmm," she agreed, kissing him back.
"I'll talk to Isshin tomorrow," he offered.
"Thanks," she said, kissing him once more and sighing softly. "Can I stay here with you tonight?" she asked. Then, seeing the blush on his cheeks, she added quickly, "On the couch, of course."
"Of course," he replied, nibbling gently on her earlobe and hoping he wouldn't sleep alone.
Damn Kurosaki's, he thought, with a childlike grin. Unpredictable, headstrong, and impulsive.
*Okonomiyaki is a Japanese savory pancake containing a variety of ingredients. The name is derived from the word okonomi, meaning "what you like" or "what you want", and yaki meaning "grilled" or "cooked" (cf. yakitori and yakisoba). Okonomiyaki is mainly associated with Kansai or Hiroshima areas of Japan, but is widely available throughout the country. Toppings and batters tend to vary according to region (Courtesy Wikipedia).