vii.
Karin watches the dressmaker leave, standing on the stone steps and mulling over his parting words.
Kisuke had recognized her instantly, a telling expression flittering over his face before he smiled like a stranger, observing her with a tilted glance, considering, and then closed the door behind him while Hitsugaya stood outside.
Silence existed between them, as he'd walked around her, examining, scrutinizing, deliberating, taking measurements and saying nothing, while she stood rigidly, still in shock. He'd stood in front of her then, hand resting on his chin, thoughtful, while his grey eyes avoided her gaze effortlessly.
When he was finally looking at her, she had wanted to scream, shout, break, her brain bursting with all the thoughts she had repressed since she was thirteen. She wanted him to hold her in his arms again, to lift her in the air and make witty remarks that made her laugh and smile until it hurt. Yuzu was there, sitting nearby, always within reach. Then Kisuke looked away, and the moment was gone, along with the heady rush of memories.
He told her to turn then, with none of the warmth that she calls, but she turns nonetheless, nails sinking into the palms, trying to ground herself in reality.
If he wanted to act like a stranger, then so be it.
She blinks, once, twice, and suddenly she's breathing in smoke, heat sticking to her lungs, a shriek kept silent by biting her tongue. Fire spreads across the sky, the silhouette of Urahara's carriage nearly swallowed whole.
There's not enough air.
"Karin!"
Reality lurches into her, knocking the memory off-balance, and she sways along with it. Her hand is reaching out for the pillar, granite rough against her palms. Karin uses that, focusing on the pain, and tries to gain her bearings back, mind too muddled in memories she'd rather forget, and there is still smoke in her lungs that she can't breathe out.
"Are you alright?"
The smoke clears. Karin closes her eyes and heaves, pushing the smoke out with everything she can muster. She takes shallow breaths after that. her throat is too tight.
"'m fine." She says, emotionlessly, surprised she can say anything. "I stumbled."
"Karin." He says, unconvinced.
"Don't." Karin mutters, more shaken than she cares to admit, opening her eyes. He flinches, and she hates him for a second, hates him seeing her shaking like this while she's trying to regain some semblance of control.
The pain would fade soon. It always did.
"Tell me what happened." Hitsugaya says, authority clear in his voice, anger, concern, and Karin has to comply.
"Nothing." Karin says blankly, and blinks, hoping that she can anchor herself by staring at him, the sunset on his skin, the expression of agitation that is so strangely new and odd. All the air has fled from her lungs, and she says, breathlessly. "I just. I knew him."
She doesn't move from the stone steps, and the image of Urahara turning back and regarding her one last time before a mousy looking servant closing the door flickers behind her eyelids.
"You knew him. The dressmaker." Hitsugaya repeats, standing very still beside her. His teal eyes flick towards the carriage disappearing into the darkening horizon. "Did Urahara remember you?"
"I could tell he did. But he acted like he didn't know me." She says, numb, and her hands are still shaking, why won't they stop—
"This way." Hitsugaya says, his arm sliding around her waist and guiding her forward until he finds a chair for her. She barely registers him, more like an invisible force than anything else, and she tries to breathe, air sucked in through her teeth.
"How are you feeling?"
Wrong. The details are all wrong. Urahara isn't a dressmaker; he's a noble, like Hitsugaya. Why did he act like they were strangers?
She doesn't answer, staring at her curled hands instead, somehow managing to say in a small voice. "Dizzy. I need a moment."
"Okay." He nods, and waits beside her in silence, refusing to leave Karin until she feels ready to move.