xvi.

Okikiba would have had her whipped. So would Medazeppi. The one before him too.

Truth be told, her former slave masters would have whipped her long ago. Karin is well aware that she'd have been whipped at the slightest hint of insubordination, she'd have been taunted as her body bled and all she could do was grit her teeth and ignore them as best she could each time she was called weak and helpless and made to understand that she was at their mercy, under their control.

So she bit the inside of her cheek, remaining silent with a mouth full of blood, hating them with every fibre of her being, watching and waiting for the next time she could escape. When that failed, she was kept in a cage, chained so she couldn't escape and became further humiliated while nobles across the kingdom came to gawk at her. Okikiba in particular had waited with baited breath for her to resign herself, and Karin had sworn to her scars that she would not have him that satisfaction.

She would not break.

And then Hitsugaya had appeared, whisked her away, hoping on some off-chance that she might recognize him, and freed her even when she hadn't and. It was like starting over again, and Karin didn't know what to expect.

So she bided her time, watched for his tells, wondered how similar he was to them really, and when she noticed the cracks in his white knight persona, she'd pushed, a little bit at first, and then more and more because she could. Because she wanted to see how acerbic he would become when he finally lost his temper and know that she would not be broken by him either.

When he had, Karin hadn't intended for it to happen. It had taken her by surprise, and she'd flinched like she was expecting bloody welts on her skin, the crack of a whip, and the immediate stinging pain afterwards because that had been ingrained into her, no matter how much she'd resisted and fought them.

This was more than that, somehow, worse than imagined flesh wounds and actual shock.

Karin didn't break, but she is shaken.

She barely registers the stable boy that skitters away whenever he saw her, meek and quiet like a mouse, and she pushes past like she's wind and fire and craving to rove through the forest and find solitude with grass beneath her feet.

But for now, she stomps outside the manor, boots crunching and kicking the ground, desperate to scream her lungs out, to release the anger that builds and builds inside her like a poison.

Karin runs.

She's tired when she reaches the brook. The urge to scream is gone, replaced by heavy gasps and stumbling on her feet, but the anger still remains.

Kicking her boots off, Karin sits down and tries to regain her breath.

Hitsugaya's words echo in her head, and she's dowsed in some sort of numbness.

She wanted to deny it, prove him wrong with memories she'd long since buried, but her mind is blank and uncertainty constricts her chest and Karin can't trust herself anymore because she just doesn't know.

Was he telling the truth?

He doesn't lie, Karin mulls to herself, dizzily remembering his promise. Words spoken in anger were usually true. Or with the intent to hurt.

It could be both. It could be neither.

Either way, it only makes Karin angrier, reinvigorated by this incoherent flare of not knowing which one is it—

She closes her hand into a fist and strikes the ground, welcoming the rush of pain that floods her senses. It's not enough.

"Damn him." Karin mutters, standing up and pulling her arm back as far as she can until she lunges forward and punches a tree as hard as she can. Her knuckles are stinging, but it's working. Again. More. She needs more. Karin strikes the tree again and again until the anger dissipates and it becomes too painful to use her right hand anymore. "Damn him!"

Drained, Karin falls to her knees, her dominant hand red and raw and cradled in her left hand. For a few minutes, she stays there, before moving once more and making herself comfortable on the ground, uncaring if her dress becomes dirty. She stretches her legs out and places her hands on her lap, chest heaving. Karin closes her eyes.

Blood drips through her fingers.

"What am I doing?" Sighing, Karin says aloud, glad there's no one to answer her. "Stupid."

Yuzu would tell her she's being careless, run to get someone to get help. Ichi-nii would probably sit beside her, ruffle her hair, flick her forehead. And then Yuzu would come running back, enveloping her in a hug and telling her it would be alright, while Karin sat in the middle, stone faced and reckless and hating herself for being so dumb and impulsive for doing something like punching a tree for no good reason.

"Focus, Karin. Focus."

It does no good to dwell in the past, she knows that. An ache spreads her, entirely unrelated to the pain in her hands, and Karin lets it consume her, lets herself feel hollow and miserable and missing her family with her heart and soul because if she doesn't mourn them now, when will she?

It passes.

The sadness fades away when Karin steels herself once more; stepping into her boots and start walking back, her arm a dead weight at her side. The anger never completely goes away, lingering under her skin like an itch but it's not as intense as it used to be, and Karin can ignore it, put it aside for now while her stomach rumbles.

Hitsugaya is waiting for her when she emerges out of the forest, his face a deceptive mask of composure, saying nothing as she makes her way towards him.

"You're hurt." He says; dusk streaking the bridge of his nose and Karin is too weary to do anything but stare.

"It happens." Karin shrugs, speaking at last, lacing boredom into the cadence of her voice. "I'm fine."

"My study. Now." Flatly, he says, opening the door. Karin goes in.