Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. It is the property of Tite Kubo; I merely borrow the characters for my own amusement.

--

Reversal

How do you manage to stand there and watch her die—live and die her way – away – from you?

She asks, bluntly as only she can, the disinterested look in her eyes proved to be the lies they were by the tense set of her shoulders, wound so tight she would shatter if touched.

(As if she had nowhere else to turn, as if the world hinged upon his words.)

--

There is no doubt that Karin Kurosaki is talented. She has tenacity, like her pigheaded brother, and though she has considerably less spirit energy to harness, she remains a fighting asset to any division.

Her father still tries to put her away, out of the action and with the fourth division, but when Karin points out that she lacks the kidou control to be a healer, Isshin spends the rest of the day figuring out which division is sent out to fight the least.

(Karin secretly hopes that Dad makes a list, with the least active at the top so that when she applied, she could apply first and foremost to division listed last.)

--

The moment it was made known that she was the sister of “that orange-haired stick”, she was guaranteed a place in the 11th Division. (It was with much distress and over exaggerated wailing that her father made clear his dissent.) Karin pointed out blithely that she would be in only eighty percent of active field duty to placate him.

Needless to say, it didn’t help very much.

Her captain is gruff, single-minded, and he reminds her so much of Ichigo that she feels right at home. She has no qualms flinging all she has at him because, like her brother he is insanely strong, like her brother he doesn’t mind - insists upon – teaching through example, like her brother he loves nothing more than to fight – no, brawl – like her brother, quite like her.

They get along fine.

--

Captain Toushiro Hitsugaya would read the latest damage report caused in the training halls by members of the 11th Division, and he would scowl as he once again noted who caused the spirit energy fallout in the first place.

Karin Kurosaki.

That girl was unrestrained, wild, and she was being unrestrained and wild to his complete and utter disadvantage. Every time she had a training session with her captain, or her vice-captain, or other officers (men and a girl-child who have never learnt restraint either) things quite simply, quite literally blew up. And Toushiro was the one who ended up with more paperwork. Suffice it to say, the girl was a complete heathen.

He never really expected less from Kurosaki’s little sister, damn that careless bastard. This was just the kind of thing he spent months for, mopping up every time the ryoka were requested for support.

Heathen.

--

It happened out of the blue one day, when she was filling in for a sick friend at the Infirmary, that Toushiro finally meets the cause for all his paperwork. It is nothing like he expected, no loud-yelling matches, no swordfights, no explosions, just her curiously stagnant eyes as they flicker from him to the thin, wan figure on the bed—back to him.

…How do you manage to stand there and watch her die—live and die her way – away – from you?

She asks, bluntly as only Karin can, the disinterested look in her eyes proving to be the lies they are by the tense set of her shoulders, wound so tight she would shatter if touched.

(As if she has nowhere else to turn, as if the world hinged upon his words.)

He knows his answer, but he has nothing to say aloud, nothing that would be true.

I don’t, he could-would say, but those listless eyes and that failing, withering form silently accuses him of desertion, of abandonment, of a betrayal worth more-less than death.

He shrugs – plays the fool – and he says he has no idea what she is talking about.

Toushiro watches again those eyes return to the bed and she doesn’t say another word—merely straightens the covers, and leaves.

--

It doesn’t take him long to realize that something is wrong. The paperwork on his desk piles ever higher, until he begins considering suggesting – none too subtly – that the 11th either shove their zanpakuto where it is anatomically impossible or take their so-called “training battles” somewhere else far, far away.

(He almost does it too, but Matsumoto convinced him that if he left his seat for the few moments it took to deliver his stinging complaint, there would be so much paperwork the office would be flooded. He ended up staying.)

In addition, Captain Kenpachi is rumored to have dispelled a few troublemakers in the 11th Division dorms by displaying a slightly raised welt on his forearm, and telling them who it was that had put it there.

Pranksters never ventured near the her possessions ever again. They hardly needed to worry. Karin Kurosaki spends most of her time in focused on training, to clear her mind, to forget what should never have needed to be forgotten in the first place.

--

She is still Karin, bold, fearless as ever, but her eyes now take on a faraway look—sometimes, her friends see her looking at herself, reflected in the mirror, with an absent frown.

Sometimes-often, they see her sigh and pick up her zanpakuto, and they see her disappear for hours into the training room and emerge, too tired to look, too tired to frown. Something is wrong, they say, something is wrong with Karin.

But Karin is still Karin – sort of – and there is nothing they can do but see her look, see her frown, see her disappear.

Because there is so much that they do and nothing they can do.

--

When asked about his precious daughter, Isshin Kurosaki has to be restrained from charging out the door and into the streets, spouting dire threats and extravagant promises.

When asked about his kid sister, Ichigo Kurosaki scowls and reaches for a zanpakuto not quite there, only to realize his mistake and reach for the shinigami-release badge instead.

When asked about her beloved twin, Yuzu Kurosaki, sweet, kind Yuzu nearly bursts into tears, nearly speaks ill of another living creature like she has never done before.

And as they are asked, Karin Kurosaki, daughter-sister, frowns – again – and tells them they’re all being silly—with a shove, with a kick, with an awkward pat, she stops them in their tracks, stops them so they watch in anxious silence as her diminutive form retreats upstairs to her room, disappears from sight—again.

--

She had made the mistake of lending her heart to someone who didn’t want it, wanted nothing more than the shell of the girl, and not what was held inside. Karin knows that she has a weakness for talent, a soft spot for proficiency, especially in soccer, one of two loves she holds all-important.

(The other is family, but she will hardly admit that aloud, not without thumbscrews, and sometimes not even then.)

He was an ace soccer player at Karakura High and she was the girl who had trounced him – soundly – in a one-on-one match. He was the boy whom she found herself admiring for his temperament (so – very, very – unlike hers) and she was the girl—she was the girl whom he saw as another boy, just another guy.

Look, I don’t think we’re going to work out anymore. I kind of want to date a girl. You’re good at the game, Kurosaki. But so’s every other guy on the soccer team.

Karin doesn’t resent his words. She looks at herself and she sees that he is right. She will not change herself for him, because she likes this Karin, not a Karin who will wear dresses and makeup, who will doll herself up to be boring, to be useless. She stands firm in her resolve.

But the seed is planted, and begins to sprout, and she can’t help but think that there are some areas where she will never be good enough, will always lose.

It’s sappy, and it’s stupid, but it hurts. She hates herself for feeling like this, for feeling like a girl.

--

Toushiro next sees her in the training halls, mercifully without her hulking captain, thankfully only practicing her swings and form. She is frowning, absent-minded, letting her body take over for her, flinging herself from one exercise to another, without stop, without pause for breath.

He sees her and he watches, because he can hardly believe that the diminutive figure before him could have wreaked such havoc as reported on paper.

He can hardly believe that she just barely reaches the top of his head.

She stops abruptly, breathing hard, and that cocky smirk, familiar in its entirety slides across her face,

Hey Shorty. Wanna spar?

He scowls, and his zanpakuto is out before he can think about it, before he can realize that it was her design all along, to ensure a training partner.

(Perhaps too, to destroy a few more buildings, as would be expected of that barbarian.)

As she flies at him, a careless, delighted grin is all that remains visible amidst her blurring features and as he lifts his sword to guard, he realizes where he had first noticed and catalogued that expression.

Her brother wears one very like when preparing to jump headlong into battle.

--

Sometimes, he wonders whether or not the presence of her mother, or even an older sister would have changed her tomboyish nature. Evidently, with only a half-insane father and her brother as role models, it was no surprise she had turned out the way she did.

But when he watches Matsumoto try to cajole her into a dress – like a girl, no less – or Captain Unohana smilingly reprimand her for her crass behavior, he realizes that it doesn’t matter whether or not Karin knew what a woman acts like.

(Dresses make her nose crinkle in distaste, and the gentle admonishments only make her laugh—she knows who she is, and she doesn’t feel the need to change.)

He realizes that she is Karin, tomboyish and crude, for a rose – or a thorn – by any other name is really just so—still itself, no matter the title.

(For Karin is Karin—as simple as that.)

He sees this, and the beginnings of a smile reverse his customary scowl.

--

Though it would be detrimental to one’s health – and worth more than life – to inquire as to the good captain’s romantic preferences, Hitsugaya would admit – if only to himself – that when he envisioned himself in a relationship, he saw someone sweet and kind and gentle, like Hinamori (pretty and frail—fragile).

Quite like Hinamori.

He will not mince words with regards to himself—he knows that he is short-tempered and not particularly personable, even when the situation requires it. His mind – the only adult part of him – tells him that in order to maintain a functional relationship, his significant other should possess a temperament quite unlike his own.

So while he knows the tender spot in his heart is still held by one Momo Hinamori, this in no way explains why Karin Kurosaki attracts his attention, inevitably, like moth to flame.

(And like fire – a burning brand hot to the touch – that hurts to touch, she is full of life, so vibrant, so bright.)

Karin is loud – rough, coarse, and brash – uncivilized and rude, with a tough-boy attitude completely at odds with her petite, faerie-like figure.

It bothers him when he realizes that he could almost be describing himself.

--

As he trains in the inner courtyard amidst drifting petals and trains in the hall amidst sweltering heat; as he trains in the inner courtyard amidst falling leaves and trains in the hall, watching his breath bead in the air—

He now sees a matching cloud, identical to his own and equally familiar, and those fiery eyes across from him, daring him, challenging him with that silly-elated grin on her face as she drives forward relentlessly, heedless of the cold, mindless of the chill.

She is truly glorious, a visceral force like a hurricane, like a tornado, like a firestorm.

Karin lacks the quiet charm, the endearing sweetness that characterized Momo Hinamori. She lacks the subtle tact and throbbing concern, the demure glances and easy temper, no. Karin is loud, Karin is insensitive, Karin is blunt and cares in a fashion that may cause the loss of skin in the process, and Karin is nothing that he has ever expected.

She is nothing he has ever wanted nor anticipated, but while Hinamori is the one who still holds his acclamations of tender affection, Karin is the one who has captured his heart and everything attached—without question.

--

Toushiro Hitsugaya will wake up one day and come to terms with the fact that he will never grow up—that his mind has moved on and left his body behind. One day he will sigh and accept what everyone has known for a century at least.

But it is not today as Karin Kurosaki grins from ear to ear and measures a line from the top of her head to the tips of his hair, and smugly informs him that she is now taller than him, and how do you like me now, Shorty?

He knows his answer, but if he weren’t so irritated, if his manly – boyly – pride weren’t so injured, he would tell her, very much, as much as ever.

But he doesn’t, and shrugs – plays the fool, badly – and tells her with a scowl that he has no idea what she is talking about.

Karin grins, and of all the sharp retorts he had expected, he didn’t expect that she would lean down and plant a sloppy, clumsy kiss on his lips and wander away, hands in her pockets, and laughing.

Shorty.

And Toushiro knew then that he wouldn’t change her – from anything to anything – for anything in the world.

--

How do I look?

She nudges him in the side one afternoon – nearly knocking him off his feet – and he rebalances himself to look at her in interest, up ad down, as if there was something he was missing. He shrugs, and finds that she looks much the same as ever.

Like you just beat up a hundred Hollows, why?

Karin just looks at him speculatively, so intensely that he begins to wonder whether or not he has said something wrong (though it wouldn’t be the first time).

The next day, Toushiro figures his jaw lies somewhere around his waistline as he sees Karin—

Karin, who is wearing a dress and (can it be?) heels, tentative and awkward, cannot meet his eye as she mutters her greeting and scuffs her foot against the floor of the training hall. In the face of her embarrassment – insecurity – he cannot help but hide an appreciative smile, but—

How the hell are you going to be able to kill any Hollows in that?

Karin looks up at him finally, relief written all over her features, and he raises an eyebrow to further convey his point. The grin plastered over her face makes him glad he’s said so, and the pain in his arm from her punch is considerably lessened by how unabashedly happy she is, as her worry and insecurities evaporate into a past now gone, now finally forgotten.

--

Today, with a grin, he looks at Karin, Karin who never bows to anyone, is still bold, crass, uncivilized Karin and Toushiro might ask one day, “Will you marry me?” when he realizes that he wants to look at her by his side, being bold and crass and uncivilized to his complete and utter advantage.

One day, Karin might look at him with those brilliant eyes and, with that indifferent expression twisting into an amused smirk give him his answer,

Sure, if you wear the dress.

He just might have to.