x.
"Do you think you could get used to this?"
Hitsugaya's voice breaks through Karin's thoughts, and she turns to face him, idly noticing that the manor begins to disappear from sight.
"What?"
"Travelling by carriage."
"I suppose." She shrugs. It doesn't seem too hard. All she has to do is sit and wait as long as it takes for them to reach their destination. "What do you do when you get bored?"
"Depends on the company." He smirks, and then offers her a different answer. "I sleep, usually. But sometimes I take books with me. Staring out of windows is a good pastime as any."
"I see."
They lapse into silence, and Karin tugs the curtain open, preferring to gaze outside than start a conversation. She settles into her seat, arms folding over her chest, and sighs, trying to maintain the illusion of dispassion while internally she feels like she's slipping out of control.
Karin takes another deep breath, wondering if she's able to do this after all.
"You could walk to town, if you wanted." Hitsugaya tells her, misreading her discomfort, and trying to be a welcome distraction, taking her mind off watching trees pass by. Karin listens, but she doesn't look at him. "It's not too far from here."
"Then why use the carriage?" She asks, pleased that her voice sounds uninterested.
"It's faster, and I prefer it." He admits, freely, ignoring her tone. "Still, I think it would be a good idea if we went for a stroll later. I don't know about you, but I've been feeling cooped up recently in my study, and Kiyone is always telling me that fresh air will do some good—"
"Fine." Karin interrupts, unable to quell the nervous flutter in her stomach. "Looking forward to it."
"Karin, are you alright?" His brows knit together, watching at her with a concerned expression. "You look pale."
She hasn't felt well since morning, truth be told, ever since he informed her that her dress was finished and they'd be going there today. But she's certain she can contain those feelings, bottle them and trap them deep into the recesses of her mind. She's done it before, she can do it again.
"I ate too many pancakes." She lies, lowering her hands to press against her stomach by way of explanation. "I didn't realize that eating too much and travelling by carriage was a bad combination."
He snorts. "I probably should have warned you." He doesn't seem particularly unrepentant though, clearly pleased when she glares at him. "Sorry."
He didn't sound sorry one bit.
In fact, it sounded like he was teasing her, much like how Kiyone and Sentarou acted towards each other. Karin bites the inside of her cheek when she realizes, flushing at the memory of a sleep-dazed Hitsugaya before banishing the thought. Maybe she's not an outsider as she first presumed. After all, Hitsugaya doesn't treat her as one—extending the olive branch at any opportunity, and his recent concern leaves her vaguely conflicted. Bemused, somewhat.
She doesn't want to talk about it, how she all but collapsed on the porch, and now, all she wants to do is stay reticent and distant, but. It's hard not to feel embarrassed when she looks at him, especially when he's being… like that.
It makes her want to believe in trusting again. Almost.
"I have some business to attend to first, but I won't be long." Hitsugaya informs her, and Karin straightens her shoulder, nodding when he gives her directions to the shop. Then she parrots his words exactly, taking his hand as she steps out of the carriage, and he seems satisfied.
She starts to walk away, before she hears her name being said, and twists to face him.
"What is it?" Karin asks, composing her face into something calm.
"… nothing." Hitsugaya replies eventually, frowning a little. He stares at her, teal eyes troubled, and Karin stills, trying not to panic, trying not to think about the way she couldn't breathe, her head trapped in the past, and he'd taken care of her while she tried so hard to hold on to some semblance of control. He must be remembering something along those lines, and Karin can't help but resent him for seeing her in such a state. "You don't have to do this."
"I know." She says, throat tight. "I want to see him again."
"Alright."
"I'll be fine." Karin insists, briskly walking away from him and towards the shop, before he has a chance to say another word.
With a deep breath, Karin turns the handle and pushes the door open.
Urahara looks at her, grey eyes widening, and time comes to a standstill.
And then—
And then emotion bursts within her, sharp and swift and sudden, filling Karin with a rage as hot as fire when he says her name like he's missed her. Like he hadn't treated her like a stranger and hadn't realized how much that had hurt. Anger builds and builds until Karin can't contain it, flaring into a fierce intensity, sparking through her hand.
She slaps him. The air resounds around them, empty, terrifying, real.
Urahara touches his cheek tenderly, wincing, and the sight of it isn't enough.
Her hands curl into balled fists, shaking more erratically the more conscious Karin becomes of how furious she is.
"How dare you," Karin says, seething, breaths shallow, smoke in her lungs all over again. Her skin feels paper thin, every part of her on fire, consumed with anger and hate, betrayal and disappointment, and there's nothing Karin wants more than to hurt him in return. "Kisuke, how dare you."
Gone is the composure she has so carefully constructed, gone is the control, gone is the restraint. Karin exists on this surge of fury that rushes through her veins.
"I thought you were dead." Urahara Kisuke says simply, head downcast, hand still touching his cheek.
"But you saw me before you ran." Karin says, numb. She isn't fire and smoke anymore; she is ice cold and shattering. "You saw me. I know you did."
"I'm afraid you're mistaken, princess. Had I known, then be assured, I would have done everything in my power to have helped." He shakes his head, pained. "I'm not so heartless to ignore someone in trouble when they need it most."
"Liar." Karin spits, jaw clenching. Against her will, she relives the moment five years ago: thirteen and chasing his carriage while he flees, and she runs and she runs until her legs are too tired and give out. "You saw me. You turned back—and—and—you saw me, that day."
She chokes back a sob, because this is how she fights, she can only survive by restraining all her emotions and holding them back. It worked for five years, and it worked this morning, but seeing Kisuke again is the last straw. Karin is tired of restraint and being strong and surviving like this. She is so, so tired of it all.
Her chest heaves against her will, and she breaks, heart tumbling out in an ugly mess.
She screamed his name, hoping he'd hear her. Desperately wanting him to stop the carriage, for him to take her someplace safe, she'd screamed until her mouth was hoarse. She didn't know where Yuzu or Ichigo were—no matter how much she looked, they'd been separated—and the fire raged on.
"You left me." Karin sobs, and her vision blurs, hot and wet and salty.
She died that day. She's sure of it. She died along with her siblings in the fire.
"I didn't." Kisuke insists, sombre faced, such a contrast to the man she remembers, filled with laughter and wry remarks. "I would have taken you along with me had I known. You must know that, Karin."
Maybe he's right. Maybe he had looked, and never seen. Maybe she's misremembering that day that she's been dreaming of again and again and again and she's no longer certain of what actually happened.
Karin would answer him, only she can't. Her legs have given way, and Kisuke catches her, warm and familiar and safe. He feels like silk and security and someone she can believe in, solid and terrifyingly real. He's here.
"I hate you." Karin whispers, dissolving into tears, wanting to tear his fine clothes to shreds, see how likes living on bare bones with no hope left, feeling abandoned up until this moment, and still, still, still resenting him.
She's barely aware of his hand on her head, murmuring soothing sounds through her hiccups, while she's reduced to pathetic mess. She can't shut anything out anymore. The brunt of all her emotions flood through her, cresting and flowing out of her until she's drained dry.
Karin cries until there's nothing left.
When Yoruichi appears, Karin is too exhausted to think, and picks herself up, stumbling forward into a graceless embrace, and then follows her into a private room. Her legs are weak and heavy, but she obeys Yoruichi when she usher her to a sofa, Kisuke treading silently behind.
They sit in silence while Karin rubs her ruddy cheeks and stinging eyes, patiently waiting for Karin to recollect herself, however slightly.
Everything feels too much. Everything feels raw and exposed and vulnerable, torn up inside, and reality clings to her. Karin can't shut anything out anymore. Not today.
Gradually, she notices the cup of tea placed on the table, and she takes a sip. She feels calmer when she's finished, more in control and ease with her old friends beside her. Karin takes a moment to observe them, comforted by the fact they are alive and well and seemingly unchanged.
Yoruichi's golden eyes are bright and gleaming, considering. Calculating. "You look better than I thought you would. Taken care of."
A bitter retort catches at the back of Karin's throat, and she swallows it down.
"Hitsugaya takes care of me. Ensures that I am fed. Treats me like a ward." Karin says, mechanical in tone. She says it as a fact. Her breath catches when she notices Yoruichi and Kisuke exchange glances. "You knew."
"Kisuke told me." Yoruichi states simply, elegant hair sloping down her shoulder. "You didn't think he'd hide something like that from me, did you?"
"Not really."
"I'm curious to know how that happened, by the way. Would you care to tell us?" Kisuke asks, in a careful, tempered voice.
Karin glances at her wrists, palms upturned and fingers curled like a protective fist. Her mind seems very still, all of a sudden, so quiet and clear, the images in her mind pristine. She doesn't answer for a long time, eyelashes fluttering shut.
"He found me in a slave market." She says so quietly she might as well be mumbling. "For the past five years, I… that's where I was."
Nobody had known who she was, and that had terrified her. Okikiba hadn't recognized as the former princess, merely labelled her as a pretty face with a habit of running away. And so had the previous slave traders before him, giving her up to the next trader that came their way.
"And, well." Karin shrugs, still staring at her hands, feeling the weight of iron rusting her skin, "you can imagine what happened next. He bought me. He freed me. He treats me well and buys me dresses."
She doesn't look at them yet, not wanting to see pity on their faces.
"What happened to being nobles?" Karin asks at last, with forced lightness. She raises an eyebrow. "Does anyone know that you're not just a humble dressmaker?"
Hitsugaya didn't seem to recognise Urahara as one. If she'd asked, Karin thinks he'd only have been confused.
"Five years is a long, long time, Karin." Kisuke answers blithely, with a tilt of his head and a smile that didn't meet his eyes. "You're not the only one who changed. After a while, we thought we should be accustomed to a quieter lifestyle." Karin can't help but snicker when she hears that, too many fond memories of them telling her family adventures of how they gallivanted across the country, bitten by the wanderlust bug. Kisuke grins at her, and he continues, like he's there to share the joke with her. "Quieter in a manner of speaking, of course. We tend to get a variety of clients, so you could hardly call life as a dressmaker dull."
"I see." Karin says. "Are you going to act like a stranger again, when Hitsugaya arrives?"
"Nonsense, Karin." Yoruichi grins, and it's suddenly so easily to fall in the feeling like nothing has changed between them. "You're a client now. Why should we treat you as a stranger?"
"Not to mention the discount we're offering you, for such a pretty dress."
"A discount." Karin repeats, sceptical, mouth twitching all the same. "For a dress I haven't even tried on?"
Urahara beams. "That can be easily remedied, if you wait a moment."
"So. Hitsugaya Toushirou." Yoruichi says, intrigued.
Karin folds her arms over his chest, narrowing her eyes. "What about him?"
"What do you make of him?"
"… I'm not sure." Karin answers honestly, giving her question some thought. She has no reason not to trust him, she supposes, he's been good to her. But the fact of the matter remains, she doesn't know much about beside the fact that he's a noble, and he was at the market on business. She knows he keeps to his study often, and that he's often scribbling away and writing letters. He's pleasant enough company, Karin mulls to herself, and lately he's been… unguarded around her. Not to say that she's blind to his attentiveness these past few days, drawing closer while Karin retreats into her shell. But the fact remains: Hitsugaya is less of a white knight than she first assumed, catching the beginnings of a temper, like being grumpy is his more natural state of being, and he's struggling to not shout at her when she's being particularly mouthy, managing to suffice by clenching his jaw instead. "He's generous." She says, careful about her choice of words, feeling like she's treading on dangerous territory. "I owe him a debt."
"I see."
"Why?" Karin asks, suspicion taking root. She knows Yoruichi well enough to know that her trickery is much more subtle. She wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important. "What aren't you telling me?"
"The question is: what isn't he telling you?" Yoruichi says instead, looking up as the door opens, the black dress there in Kisuke's hands, pretty just as he said.
Karin tries the dress on, and stares at herself in the reflection for a long time. It's better than wearing white.