A/N: Spoilers for chapters 591, 592, and probably a few future ones as they update.

Here, have a fanfic. Also, I might update this more as Bleach (which I do not own) releases more pages and this whole problem with Hitsugaya is resolved. . .or not resolved. We'll see, but for now, I'm going to mark this as In Progress.

Counting The Minutes Like Dewdrops

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"You know, I may not come back."

She frowns and lowers her gaze toward the ground, memorizing each glistening, fresh dewdrop decorating the grass. She folds her hands in her lap and shifts her weight ever so slightly from where she sits on the bars that line their favorite place - the place where the sun sets in beautiful hues of red, orange, gold, and violet, where trees outline the view from the hill they perch at the top of. She exhales quietly and finds herself resting her head on his shoulder; he is tense, and although that's nothing new, it concerns her.

"I know," Karin tells him seriously. "But I also know you'll come home safely."

She can practically feel him scowling through the muscles in his neck and she smiles bitterly, fully aware that she is clinging onto a very frail string of hope.

In all honesty, Karin deems herself lucky that he even bothered to see her. She knows everything, he told her details Ichi-nii had refused to, she knows about Quincy and how very few individuals possess their Bankai anymore. She can sense the obvious decrease in power within this Shinigami she stays beside, sense his determination and unease all the same, sense the fate he has resigned himself to, just in case he really does die when the enemy returns - and they will return, that much is obvious.

"I'll come home," he repeats her words in an empty tone, at a loss of his usual irritation, sourness, disinterest. "I promise."

Karin feels her cheeks dimple because her eyes are becoming damp and there is no way in hell she is going to cry over a stupid conversation such as this and she straightens herself up, smacking his arm playfully. He quirks a brow and manages a weak simper. "I wish I could be there to help," she states, swinging her feet back and forth as a distraction. She tucks a loose strand of black hair behind her ear, not caring enough to redo the falling ponytail. "Kick some ass for me, you hear?"

Finally, Toushirou breaks out in a grin - he doesn't do that often, but she has had the privilege of seeing a certain relaxed twinkle in his teal irises, a surreal sort of peacefulness in his features. It's times like these that Karin remembers just how old he really is, yet in a way, he's still a kid like her. His frame is still small - a bit taller than she is, though - and his mind has matured over the decades like that of an old man, and she used to tease him a lot about that until this war started.

To break a thick silence, Karin reaches over and ruffles his white hair, savoring the soft sensation, and laughs. "I'll be waiting for your next visit, Toushirou."

He nods curtly and intertwines her fingers with his, squeezing gently before releasing his grip. ". . .Urahara-san caught me while I was heading here."

"Urahara-san?"

"Yeah. I swear that guy knows everything," he mutters, reaching into the fabric of his robes and haori. "He gave me something. This way, we'll stay connected." He looks at her and adds, "It's your choice. Personally, I'm against it." He deliberately leaves out the part You might stress over nothing if we go through with this, but Karin gets the idea.

"You can. . .really do that?"

"According to that pervert, yes we can," Toushirou responds slowly, carefully, crushing the tiny object he'd stored in his clothes in his palm. He murmurs something under his breath, a Hadou spell probably, and he pauses, establishing that the slope below them is quite interesting suddenly. While he delays like that a second, Karin considers her options.

If she lets him go without any sort of tie to him, she'd most likely be able to convince herself that he is alright and carry on for the time being. It'd be hard, but doable, a simple bliss in the self-conviction that he is alive. But if she accepts this 'magic' and he gets hurt, even an insignificant cut or bruise, there is a large chance that she'd panic temporarily. And if he - dare she think it? - dies out there, she would recognize it immediately and crumple in the middle of class sobbing for "no reason".

Her decision scrambles to her fast.

"Let's do it."

Toushirou, almost crestfallen in the way his spine arches and his wrists twitch barely visibly, dips his chin in reluctant agreement. A weak glow emits from his nails and he pulls away the black cloth from his chest and presses one hand just below his collarbone where his attire outta cover the marks of his fingertips. Following his lead, Karin exposes her shoulder and he hesitates, then touches the pale skin, brandishing five prints there, too.

They don't make a sound for a long time, and when someone finally utters a noise, it's Toushirou. "Don't do anything dumb while I'm gone, because now I'll know about it."

Karin smirks and pushes him playfully. "No guarantees."

After that, neither of them really make an effort to spark a conversation. She places her head in the cook of his neck again, both sighing as cool air gathers and makes their breath fog. The dewdrops shine a little brighter as the sun begins to set, as it does every evening and each night the two of them come here together. Like when they first met. And the second time. - - Rays stretch across the vastness of the darkening atmosphere, painting it like a canvas full of ink splatters and vibrant dyes. Pastels and oils and stains. It's beautiful, but Karin has a reputation to keep (as in not acting like an actual girl) so she bites her tongue and slides her lids shut. Karin catches herself wishing they could stay like this forever.

When the world is inky and dim, they shuffle to their feet and he walks her home - not that a ghost could do much to protect her, but she decides not to point that out - and even during that, they don't chat much.

And after a while, they reach her residence, and both blankly read Kurosaki Clinic while coming nearer.

Karin halts just outside and turns to face him, inhaling sharply and forcing a happy smile onto her face. "Thank you." On further consideration, she continues with, ". . .for everything."

Toushirou glares at her as if to inquire For what? yet she dismisses this and wraps her arms around him, holding him close for what might be the final- no, just for a month or so. He awkwardly returns the gesture - he's terrible at hugs, she thinks it's funny. After which she inclines her jaw to reach his mouth as he kisses her, telling one another all they need to through physical contact. Karin pecks him on the cheek and he smiles for the last time for what will be a long time to come, brushing his lips against her forehead before both depart, not giving into the urge to look back. The flash of the Senkaimon casts her shadow ahead of her on the tar and Karin clenches her fist as not to spin on her heel and run to him.

No, rather, she opens the door to her house and steps inside, refusing to peek into the past, and greets Yuzu for dinner.

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It's when Karin is concluding that Urahara-san gave the boy a dud that she feels it.

It's weird and diverting her attention from her homework assignments. They're little twinges of aching familiarity in her ribs and tingles of apprehension in her stomach and pricks of disturbing vexation in every gulp of air she takes. At first she disregards it, determining it is because she awoke at such an ungodly hour. However, soon the waves of anxiety grow stronger, and Karin finds that she is shivering. Hollowly, she rubs the spot on her shoulder, and begins to dread.

There is an overwhelming awareness of terror and horrified fear, then a flood of resolve and boldness, thereupon a comforting yet not-so-comforting residing tide of tiredness, and Karin sits there, completely on edge and dazed.

For a minute, she wonders if Toushirou is dead.

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She is watching outside the classroom window without really seeing anything, cheek resting in her hand, elbow on her desk. The teacher drones away, reciting texts out of books that no one will ever use in life. A paper airplane floats by and Karin doesn't notice.

And then the world kinda stops.

Karin lowers her hand stiffly, eyes widening gradually the point that it strains her vision. The voices in the school become muffled and far off and her bones are really cold all of a sudden, she can't even gasp, her lungs hurt. She grits her teeth and can't even grind them properly, lower lip beginning to tremble, and somewhere, Sensei is repeating her name, over and over and over - -

For a split moment, she feels him resisting, then a dull unconsciousness dragging their connection downward.

She still isn't reacting to her name when Toushirou begins to draw blood from his friends.

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- - Giselle is calling his name. . .