Suddenly, he was reminded of the sickeningly helpless feeling he was filled with when he had lost his powers, when no one would tell him what was happening because he wouldn’t have been any help. Feeling like a child that needed to be shielded from the dangers of a world they wouldn’t understand, that would claim them and wouldn’t allow them to escape unscathed. This was a stark reminder of that dark, dark time in his life and it pained him on levels far beyond just physically.
The thought had never quite crossed his mind until that exact moment and when the realization hit, it floored him. Always striving to protect from forces they couldn’t begin to comprehend, that even he barely understood, he neglected to remember that he wasn’t the only one burdening this ability—this inability to see things that no ordinary human would or ever should see. It wasn’t her fault, nor was it his own—well, the latter part could somewhat be a minor fabrication on his end seeing as he, on more than one occasion, chose to become a Shinigami, therefore choosing to retain his ability to see spirits, which he’d had stripped from him. Though whether or not it was a truly a choice, however, was considerably questionable.
Truth be told, he was fully prepared to shunpo off in the direction of the Urahara Shoten and give the owner of said shop a piece of his mind, but something stopped him. Something more powerful than Aizen, the God himself kept him from stomping off the way he originally planned: her hand on his arm, eyes pleading with him not to go and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t. He could not.
This was something he found hard to swallow—harder than trying to swallow a mouthful of the bitterest medicine without anything to help it go down. He didn’t want to believe all that he was being told but he was way past the stage of being an ignorant child who ignored an refused to believe the truth he was being dealt. It was a hard truth, but it was the truth and it was difficult to wrap his mind around it. As reluctant as he was to admit, Urahara-san wasn’t an idiot and would have rightfully been unwilling to give into Karin’s wishes to give her something that would put her directly in the mouth of danger—at least, he thought so. It still didn’t sit right with him, as Urahara wasn’t stupid and should have known that Ichigo would have been busting down his door to beat him to a bloody pulp for putting his sister in such danger.
He just didn’t know what to say or do.
“I…I wasn’t strong enough on my own to take care of our family.”
“Karin,” Finally, he spoke and his voice was controlled despite the uncertainty he felt internally. The fact that she felt it was her job to protect their family brought on a painful, almost suffocating tightening in his chest that reminded him of himself. This was no different from him trying to take on more than he could chew as a child because he wanted to protect his family, even when he couldn’t protect himself. She was a lot like him, in so many ways. And it was almost scary.
“You don’t ever need to worry about that kind of stuff, alright? I know I might’ve never told you but you can tell me about anything,” he started, gaze unwavering from the dark one belonging to his sister. Being left in the dark is just as bad as being useless. It was a thought in the back of his mind, but it wasn’t his place to say it because he had no right—he was the one who kept her in the dark all those years.
There it was—the suffocating constriction in his chest again, the moment those words left Karin’s mouth. It prompted him to do something he hadn’t done in he couldn’t remember how long. No words were used as he wrapped an arm around his sister’s smaller frame, pulling her into a somewhat awkward hug that he was sure she wasn’t expecting, but it just felt necessary. There was nothing he felt he could say, so he used actions instead of words and hoped it would be enough.
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