xvii.
"Sit," Toushirou says to Karin tersely, gesturing to the sofa while he gets a pitcher of water from the kitchen and lets Kiyone know where they'll be. He represses a sigh when he gets back, relieved that Karin is where he left her: sitting on the sofa, staring at her injured hand.
Once, he had found her carelessness enchanting. Right now it's a nuisance.
He places the pitcher on the table, leaves it there for her to wash her hands and clean her raw knuckles while he strides to his desk. He's sure he has bandages somewhere in this room.
"Where did you go?"
Her voice is detached, careful while she busies herself. It hasn't been that guarded since the day they had their first conversation in the carriage. Toushirou hears the sound of water splashing. "Were you worried?"
"A little." Toushirou admits freely while he rummages through his drawers. It's not that he wishes to confine her, but he had felt some alarm when he discovered that she'd left the premises. "Hanatarou told me that he'd seen you leave."
"I wouldn't take one of his horses."
"That's not the point." Toushirou barks out through gritted teeth, and files the information for later. Perhaps—no, better to save it for later. "It's fine if you want to take a walk, or go to town by yourself. You can do whatever you like. But if you are going to leave, can you tell someone before you cause a panic?"
"Fine. I'll keep that in mind the next time it happens." Karin nods, agreeing, her voice diplomatically neutral and acquiescing. "You needn't have worried. It was only a walk in the woods."
"You're hurt." He points out, factual, pleased that he's found the bandages at last.
"Accidents happen."
He snorts. "Right." Because what had happened to her knuckles was clearly an accident. Clearly. "I'll send for a doctor tomorrow. I'll do what I can for now." He joins Karin on the sofa and extends his hand, palm upturned. "May I?"
Wordlessly, she gives him her hand, remaining stoic while he inspects the damage. It doesn't look too bad.
"Is this part of the job too?" Karin asks, dry.
He can't find it within himself to hold back a glare, and Karin doesn't flinch.
"No." He mutters, vision lowering to focus on wrapping her hand. He feels the weight of her gaze and both of them continue the silence until he's finished. "If I ask what happened, would you be honest with me?"
Her mouth thins into a compressed line. For a long moment, Toushirou thinks she's just going to ignore him, refusing to answer the question while Karin averts her gaze and looks at anywhere but him.
"What do you think happened? I got angry. Took it out on the trees." Muttering, she lowers her head, chin digging into her chest, fingers moving experimentally in its binding. "It's not so bad, really. I've had worse."
"Karin." Toushirou frowns, and his thoughts turn to the bruises that blemished her skin, the sharp curve of her cheeks. He's sickened by the memory, made worse by the implication of what Karin has admitted. "That doesn't make it better."
Her expression turns pensive at those words, before something happens and she stills, shoulders stiffening at some thought, some memory. Her uninjured hand drums against her knee, absently.
Quietly, trying to keep the anger from his voice, he says. "What did Okikiba do?"
She smiles bitterly at that, a ghost of a smile, a twinge of heart-shaped lips pulling at the corners of her mouth. It's not enough to be called a smile, but he can recognize it easily, in the moments when he looks at himself in the mirror, early in the morning when he isn't properly awake.
"Karin." Toushirou says, protectiveness surging within him, and he doesn't know whether he should push or let it go. He doesn't trust himself to speak, doesn't know what he would say if he opened his mouth.
"It doesn't matter." Karin says, slow, careful.
"The hell it doesn't!" He bursts out, scowling at her. "Of course it matters." He says, calmer, more in control after counting to five. He makes sure to meet her gaze. "You matter."
Her eyes turn cold. "It's not hard to guess. I was in chains when you found me."
"Because you ran."
"Unsuccessfully." Karin corrects, sharp, stone faced. "I always got caught, one way or another."
"It's alright, Karin. You're a free person now."
She nods, almost agreeing. "So you keep telling me."
Head downcast, he tries to hide his frustration, his impatience. That's the problem, really, he's too impatient, more time is needed, and he wishes that Karin would believe him. Maybe she does, in her own stubbornly resistant way, but again and again, it's like he's facing a wall with the slightest of deflections.
His brows knit together. At what point did she slip out of her boots? It was something Karin did often, actually. Given the choice, she would always prefer bare feet.
"Karin, why don't you wear shoes?"
Her attention is focused on her bandaged hand, turning it over and touching the fabric gently, tentative of the knot. She doesn't look up. "It's more comfortable not to. Why? Does it bother you?"
"No." Toushirou frowns. "I just. Find it strange." He doubts it's more comfortable either. It's a question of taste, he supposes, habits.
"Is that all." Karin replies tartly.
"Yes." He says, cross of a sudden, feeling flustered by his own behaviour. He's better than this.
He's secretly relieved Kiyone chooses that moment to knock on the door and announce that dinner is ready.
Neither of them are in a conversation mood, and dinner passes quietly in silence.
It doesn't escape Toushirou's attention that Karin hides her injured hand under the table whenever someone approaches.