xv.
"How old were you when we first met?"
"Seven. I was seven."
"I see."
"You still don't—"
"No."
Toushirou buys Karin shoes. Sturdy boots that are thick and leathery and perfect for rambles and picnics and easy to slip out of at a moment's notice, which is something, Karin was wont to do.
"You should have more of your own things." He tells her, hand rubbing his neck. "Dresses, shoes, books, anything you like. Just let me know."
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Kiyone asks him, the first time he asks her to prepare a picnic for their afternoon stroll. He doesn't have an answer for her and she sighs when that becomes clear. He's making this up as he goes, just trying to do right by Karin. "Fine. Just. Be safe."
It goes like this: Karin seeks him out, or Toushirou finds her, and Kiyone is relieved that he's stopped residing in his study for a while, and they walk into forest, always back in time for supper.
It's something to do to pass the time, and he always feels more at ease when he returns, his head not filled with the scent of perfumed letters anymore.
"Why are you doing this?"
"I want you to be happy. That's all, Karin." Toushirou answers. There are other reasons too. Romantic reasons like princesses shouldn't be paupers, and a slither of guilt that never completely goes away when he looks at her, but after knowing Karin for a month, he thinks he can safely assume that she won't care for semantics.
Karin scoffs all the same, hovering by the bookcase in his study. He frowns.
"I mean it."
A dismissive shrug is all he receives in response, and Toushirou grounds his teeth, feeling the beginning of a migraine. She turns her attention back to his bookshelf, black dress rippling as she turns. It doesn't matter how many different dresses he buys for her, she still only wears the black dress that Urahara made for her first.
He sighs, pushing all the air out of his lungs, and leans back, making himself comfortable in his chair.
"I'll be leaving soon."
Her eyes bore into him, scrutinizing him as if that will verify his announcement, and Toushirou refuses to look away from the intensity of her gaze.
"It's part of my job." Toushirou explains, calm. He'd welcomed the change of pace, at first, time passing slower, until he became tired of it and longed for the travels. Business progresses much more efficiently when terms are discussed face to face, and he can't keep writing letters and waiting for replies. Not like this.
"You're a noble." Karin says, disdainful. "What do you even do?"
"What any noble does!" Toushirou snaps, patience rapidly disintegrating. It's difficult enough to contain his temper when Karin appears to delight in kindling it. The more time she spends with him, the more his control begins to crack under pressure.
He's so sick of her dismissiveness.
"Think about it, Karin. I have meetings in my study all the time. You can't have missed Matsumoto coming in from time to time—" Toushirou forces himself to stop, jaw clenching, aware that he could go on this tirade all day. He could lecture her about the reports he reads, how he has to make sure people handle their finances properly. But he's tired. He's tired, and being around Karin is wearing him down to being a curmudgeon.
He takes another breath. He speaks slowly, determined not to let his frustration get the better of him. "Being a noble means more than attending social events, Karin. It means that I have to be present at business meetings whenever necessary."
"Business meetings like the slave market." She says quietly, her voice shaking with restrained anger, remembering what he'd told her long ago. "With Okikiba."
"Yes. Exactly." He nods, ice cold. He's getting tired of gritting his teeth and bearing it. "It's just business, Karin. That's how it's always been. Nothing has changed since the monarchy was dismantled, not from a noble's perspective. Law and order, the way we live, everything is same except that someone new is in charge of the kingdom. Apparently, that's what people think is need to believe that they're living in a better kingdom."
She narrows her eyes, rage rushing across her face in a flood of ugly red. It's something at least, Toushirou thinks, vindictive satisfaction surging behind his ribs, something more than her aloofness and indifference. He has limits; she breaks them.
"Better?" Karin echoes, seething. "How it is better when slavery exists in this new kingdom?"
Hysteria bubbles up inside of him, a humourless cruel thing, hot and furious and bitter and he can't believe he's been so stupid. He thought she knew, all along. But no. Apparently, she'd been living a sheltered life the entire time.
It's the last straw.
When Toushirou loses his temper, he can be just as cruel as she is callous.
"Weren't you listening, princess? Nothing's changed. It's always been there. The difference is that no one told you."
Shock exists on her face for a second, before Karin shutters the emotion away and she is nothing but a wall, impenetrable and untouchable and slamming the door behind her, footfalls thunderous.
"Honestly, I think the only surprising thing is that you managed to last this long."
Toushirou doesn't look at Kiyone; too busy concentrating on the ceiling, while she approaches him, wry amusement visible in the beginning of a smirk.
His anger has faded, mostly, but he scowls at her nonetheless.
"Quiet, Kiyone."
She carries on if she hasn't heard him, arms resting over the back of the sofa, her head settling comfortably on the crook of her arms. "I'm impressed, sir. I thought for sure that you would have lost your temper much earlier."
"If I was younger, I wouldn't have been able to last a day." Toushirou mutters grumpily, moving himself to sitting upright on his sofa instead of reclining over it. It's a bad habit of his, especially late at night when he was too tired to go to his room, and the sofa was so much closer and available. "I'm glad I'm not ten anymore."
"You were much cuter back then." Kiyone grins, much to his annoyance. He's not impressed with that comment. "It's true. All those temper tantrums." Her grin only widens as a rush of embarrassment floods through his cheeks, the memories an unpleasant reminder. Kiyone hums, pleased, and returns to her original subject. "Still. Hanatarou thought you'd last longer than a week."
"And Sentarou?" With a tone as dry as he can muster, Toushirou asks the question that Kiyone will inevitably tell him. It's better to cut to the chase than to wait for it.
Her white teeth stretch her mouth. "Less than a day."
"Wonderful."
"For the record, I thought it would be three days at most. Maybe four, if I was being especially generous."
"Thank you, Kiyone." He says, absently, mulling over the fact that his friendship with Karin only lasted a week before he finally gave in and lost his temper. He wonders what he should make of that.
"Look on the bright side! It's better that it happened now than later." Kiyone says, looking at him meaningfully. "You were beginning to worry me."
"How?"
"Oh, you know," Kiyone answers airily, "all that repression. It makes you a bit… off."
"Off." He repeats, disdainful. "I'm fine."
"Of course you are." She doesn't even try to sound sincere. "That's why there was such a commotion not ten minutes ago."
Loathe as he is to admit it, she has a point.
"I'm just saying, sir, something had to give." Kiyone shrugs. As frustrated as he is with the situation at hand, Toushirou appreciates her blunt honestly. "It's probably for the best."
He arches his eyebrow. "I thought you two got along?"
"Better than before, but. That doesn't mean she's always pleasant." Kiyone replies, grim faced, and that's true as well.
"Nobody's perfect." Toushirou says, sighing. He pinches the bridge of his nose, tells her something that he's often had to repeat aloud, though it's wearing thin to his own ear. "Karin's had a difficult life."
"I'm aware." Kiyone nods, curt, though she sounds less than convinced. "As far as I'm concerned, that only excuses her to a point."
"I know," He breathes in deeply, closes his eyes, and lets the air out of his mouth slowly. Toushirou repeats the action a few times until he feels grounded and in control again. He hates losing his temper, even though he's been on edge frequently because of Karin and her passive-aggressive behaviour. He always feels like he's left stranded in wreckage and other people's stupidity while he has to collect his thoughts and hope that he's in a clearer, sounder mind. "I thought that giving her space was the best option."
In retrospect, that was mistake. He'd left her alone when she was wild-eyed and nothing but skin and bone, defined by the harsh angles. He feels like an idiot.
"Sometimes it is. In this case, it's pretty clear it's not."
Passing his hand over his face, he sighs. "I see that now. You could have told me that sooner."
"Nobody's perfect." Kiyone echoes, softening the expression on her face. She tilts her head and says nothing, mouth pursed as she considers the matter at hand. "So, to sum up, there's a furious former princess brooding somewhere in the manor, because of you."
"Yes." He relives that one split second, stretching out the moment in his mind. There had been such disgust in the curl of her lip that he was certain that she'd say something cutting before she stormed away. But she didn't, bottling up instead, and that had surprised him.
"I guess the next question is: what are you going to do?"
"I don't know." He says, tired of trying to have all the answers, tired of having this role of care taker or guardian of Karin. It adds stress on top of everything else. "Leave her alone for now. I guess. We could both use some time to think." His sanity needs that much, and Toushirou can't rush into this haphazardly. Not like before. "I'll talk to her before dinner, Kiyone, you have my word."
She nods thoughtfully, auburn hair curling past her shoulders, though she still doesn't seem too pleased. "Fine. So long as she's not insufferable, that's all I ask."
"I'll try." Toushirou says seriously, and then Toushirou is left alone once more.
There was a time when he was actually good at negotiations, in spite of feeling like he was constantly underestimated and surrounded by incompetent idiots. There was a time when he knew what to say and how to get it with a few choice words. He doesn't know why it's so frustratingly trying now.