Nonchalance, part 3
A/N: These two crack me up.
Feedback: Por favor.
-
He makes it to the football match she’d invited him. He’s warned her ahead of time about not staying for the whole thing-shinigami duties and all.
The open air setting is safer than the Kurosaki household, he muses as he watches the match start from the top of the bleachers. It’s easier to keep an eye on her this way than from a distant rooftop, he thinks.
Because of her high concentration of reiatsu, of course.
Yeah, that.
His posture is composed as usual, arms crossed as he leans against a post. His fingers dig into his elbows, tensing for a fight.
It has nothing to do with the uniform she’s wearing, which shows off perhaps a bit more than is appropriate. Or the way some of her male classmates are following her movements from the sidelines.
The cell phone sounds off a warning, informing him of the position less than a mile away. The green marble emerges from his pocket. After a stern warning to Kon to keep himself planted on the bleacher, Hitsugaya takes off. He’s already learned how Ichigo’s stash had been formed and doesn’t want a repeat performance.
As he takes off, he thinks it a bit strange to see Karin midfield staring up at him before leaving.
-
The pair of hollows are hardly a challenge and easily dispatched when he freezes them before swinging his sword down. The raining pieces of ice dissolve in the hot sun, soaking into the concrete.
Matsumoto makes an appearance right when he sheathes his zanpakto.
Her hair is suspiciously styled with complicated curls and bright ribbons. It would’ve looked nicer if the other half of her head wasn’t a limp mess. Clearly, she’s been spending way too much time with Orihime.
She groans, stomping her feet like a capricious child not getting her way. The grip on the handle of her sword would’ve broken a man’s hand easily, he notes dryly.
He directs a cold glare over his shoulder, eyebrow lifting like a complete cocky bastard. Matsumoto is in no mood to hear any lectures about being on time or faster response. She punches the wall, breaking off a brick from a storefront.
“Ugh!” she rages unintelligibly and kicks a stray can that becomes permanently imbedded onto a concrete wall.
Orihime had just begun to tell her about hair products to prevent frizz and help curls keep their shape all day when she’d gotten the alarm. They’d even gone through the trouble of copying an extra cute hairstyle out of a magazine before being interrupted.
And then to find he’d already taken care of it just made her temper flare that much more.
“Why you-” she starts.
He says nothing, perfect eyebrow continuing to arch as he sticks his tongue out for a second before taking off in the opposite direction, feeling oddly light and giddy as he races back to the match in progress.
He hears a strange booming sound behind him as he takes off without looking back.
The wind is rushing through his hair, whistling in his ears as he gets to the field, just in time to see Karin score a goal in the first minutes of the second half. She’s pounced on easily by her teammates in their celebratory grouping, who then get back in formation to continue playing.
She’s quite graceful, he admits as he pushes Kon out when resettling back into his gigai, temporarily forgetting that his body is several rows closer to the field than where he’d left it.
The game continues on with several arguments from the opposing team with the referee about calls. A few yellow cards on a few of the players and the arguments come to a head between both teams. A girl with sandy brown hair appears to have it in for Karin, he observes.
It’s two minutes into the additional play time that Karin takes a hard dive when her foot is swept out from under her, knocking her off balance.
That Kurosaki strength prevails yet again as Karin brushes herself off and gets back into formation.
She evades her opponents, making sure to open up the field to minimize any chances of singling any player out. It seems to work as they score another goal.
The ball reaches her at the midfield mark when the sandy haired girl makes her play. A sliding tackle that appeared to aim at the ball results in Karin taking a second hit on her shin.
Everyone hears the appropriate swearing that follows.
The sandy brown brat gets the red card she deserves, Hitsugaya notes as he grips the edge of his seat so hard it leaves dents. Karin’s teammates pull her up, helping her get to the sideline carefully.
-
“Did you see that?” she asks him unnecessarily when she is limping at his side.
“I warned you,” he answers, taking her duffel bag after she zips it close. “Girls are ruthless.”
Despite feeling like absolute crap, she smiles at him. He isn’t as cold as he tries to seem.
“Right,” she agrees. “You’re a total ladies’ man, aren’t you?”
He looks away but is not fast enough for her not to catch the bright color on his face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snaps, although his comeback lacks bite.
She chuckles as she stretches her arms up and out.
-
She is dead tired and a sweaty mess when the game is over, barely walking straight. Her heavy duffel bag is hoisted over his shoulder with no problem as he offers her a shoulder to keep her steady.
"Come on," Hitsugaya half dictates, sounding appropriately annoyed.
She blinks at him in response. He slides an arm under her shoulder blades when she's too slow on the uptake. Despite his somewhat brusque manner, he is careful not to jar her as they make their way. The walk is slow as a stray wind blows past them on the sidewalk.
Rapid footsteps sound near them as they turn a corner.
"Karin-chan!" they hear a voice call out.
Stopping, Karin spins around to her friend. Hitsugaya keeps from raising an eyebrow upon seeing the boy doubled over with hands on knees as he pants from the exhaustion.
"He-hey," the brunette says, trying to catch his breath.
Karin readjusts herself so that he doesn't have to carry her weight so much.
"Hi," she smiles sweetly.
"Great game," he tells her. "Although it's too bad you got hurt."
He gestures to her leg as she attempts to stay coordinated on one foot.
"I'll be fine," she says, brushing off bits of grass.
The boy shakes his head once, twice.
"The same as always," he tells her. "Such a tough girl."
Karin laughs nervously.
"What?" she snaps amiably. "Want me to beat you at a one on one game? I can still do it, you know. Even like this."
The light blush on the boy's face is irritating.
He counts 300 seconds exact, trying to tune out portions of a conversation the boy tries to sustain with her. He gathers that it's mostly about sports and their classes together. Hitsugaya doesn't try to guess at his name, thinking it unnecessary.
"You should've taken that crazy girl during the game," the boy tells her.
She shakes her head.
"Didn't really see her coming," she answers. "She just kind of rammed into me, like a stampeding rhino."
The boy laughs.
At the sight of her lingering smile, Hitsugaya's hand suddenly drops from her shoulder to her waist, pulling her close.
"You have to get your leg looked at," Hitsugaya coldly interrupts.
Karin waves goodbye while imagining him capable of carrying her off in his arms like a newlywed couple just to spite her friend. She tries not to laugh at the thought.
-
From being over at the Kurosaki household so often (her fault for making him), he's learned a bit about healing and insists she keep her foot raised to prevent swelling.
For being hurt during the match, he is puzzled by her subtle, if cheery smile. Suspicious, he gets the feeling she's making fun of him in some way.
In retaliation, Hitsugaya slides a cold hand on her ankle, making her shriek at the contact. Her fists come in contact with his arm, attempting to bruise him. No such luck, unfortunately.
"It's not my ankle that hurts, dummy!" Karin yells and succeeds in shoving him off the couch.
He sits up and rubs the back of his neck, unsure of why he's so surprised, full well knowing how she'd react. It was kind of funny seeing the face she made, though, all wide eyed and horrified.
Very funny, in fact.
He laughs.
She likes the sound.
Instantly, he seems relaxed and is as unguarded as she's ever seen him. Despite his youthful appearance, he’s always seemed so much older and this is the first time he looks his age. In human years, that is.
"If you're going to be helpful," she adds, looking down at him sprawled on the floor. Her hand reaches out for his, still icy and places it on her shin. "Then do things right."
Despite himself, he chortles the last of his outburst, but doesn't move away.
"Your face," he manages between breaths as he points a finger at her.
She falls on the couch, cradling the back of her head in her hands. The afternoon light casts strange, small shadows in the textured ceiling of his apartment.
"You're such a jackass," she retorts. "Have you no shame? I'm hurt, damn it."
He's cute when he smiles, but she doesn't dare say it aloud as she feigns being offended at his words. She feels his thumb slide over her leg as he tries to keep still without hurting her.
"You should've seen your face," he tells her, shoulders shaking.
She raises herself on her elbows, enough to get a look at him and stick her tongue out as her usual insulting gesture.
Matsumoto's angry face comes to mind from that afternoon.
He laughs again, earning a bemused and oddly delighted smile from Karin, who doesn't question but merely listens to sound of his voice.
"You've totally cracked," she muses aloud as she stares at the ceiling once more.
-
He insists on making sure she eats before going home.
The delivered food is not bad, considering how spoiled she's been by Yuzu's cooking for so long. At least his taste buds are working, she thinks as she mentally compares the time they somehow managed to choke down a meal Orihime made once. He'd been so damned reserved, downright inscrutable, making it impossible for her to know if he actually liked the stuff or was just inhumanly polite.
She likes to guess the latter had won. Especially since he was letting her take her pick of everything he'd ordered.
"You trying to fatten me up?" she asks slyly behind her chopsticks.
He chokes on a bite of rice.
And then scowls at her silly, sheepish grin.
"This is the thanks I get for-" he is interrupted when she unexpectedly leans in to shyly kiss his cheek.
He instantly reddens at the brief contact of soft lips. She pulls away, uncertain until she gets a good look at him.
There are several minutes of silence between them where neither one knows exactly what to do except to occasionally inhale and exhale.
"Don't tell me that was your first?" she teases as he frowns darkly at her.
When the color fades, he piles beef and bell peppers onto her plate until the container is empty and mutters that she's too skinny.
He feels the hit on his arm this time.