Perverse Reflections, fic, PG 1/4
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. I am not making money off of this fanfic. It is purely for entertainment purposes only. Tite Kubo gets full credit for Bleach and the characters within. I'm only molesting them for a little while.
Title: Perverse Reflections
Author: Inverted Raven
Characters: Hiyori, Shinji (mentioned)
Parts: 1/4 (they're really all companion pieces, not sequels or chapters, though)
Rating: PG
Warning: Angst, possible OOC
Summary: While the other Vaizards are out having fun, Hiyori stays at the warehouse to sift through Shinji's more...dubious belongings and reflect on what she cannot have.
Note: This is my first ever attempt at anything involving Shinji and Hiyori. So, keep that in mind while reading. :p I also haven't written fanfiction in several months. o.o;
Sarugaki Hiyori would never admit that she felt anything more for Hirako Shinji than simple sisterly affection, if even that much. Usually, she would rather maintain her tough persona and make everyone, including Shinji, believe that she couldn't care less if she stayed or left.
But, today was different. Today, she was alone in the warehouse. Everyone else had gone to find something interesting to do, and no doubt Shinji was flirting with some random girl at the moment, wherever he was. He was good at that. Flirting. He flirted with all the girls. All the pretty ones, anyway.
Girls like Lisa, girls like Orihime. Girls that were tall and had long legs. Girls with long, soft, shiny hair. Girls with breasts. Girls that looked like the women they were supposed to be or would soon be considered. Girls that didn't look like her.
Hiyori had breasts, and anyone who claimed she didn't had probably get ready for her to introduce them to the female anatomy of the chest. But, she didn't have...big ones. She didn't have breasts that you could always tell were there, unless she wanted you to notice. Her chest looked deceptively flat, leading to the common misconception that she was or was the equivalent of a 12-year-old here in the Living World.
This was a misconception, because she was well over 100 years old, and she was fully developed in every feminine way. But, it was no hidden fact that she was short. Very short. And she had freckles. And she kept her hair in those pigtails. She liked her pigtails, she wasn't going to change them just to get attention from guys. But, these things, plus the way she dressed, often made her seem like a child, and a tomboy at that.
Definitely not the kinds of girls that she was looking at right now. The kinds of girls Shinji liked to flirt with, liked to fantasize about, and probably even liked to jack off to. She was currently in his room, having found his secret stash of girly magazines, hentai manga, hentai videos and anime, and trashy romance novels that were all about sex so that no doubt Shinji could picture himself as the guy sinking into the woman's....
Well, anyway. She knew she'd never look like these women. She'd never catch Shinji's eye like that. She never had and she never would. And she hated to know that. She hated that knowledge and she hated it with more of a fiery passion than she could ever hate Aizen. Which was really saying something.
She flipped silently through the magazines, seeing the way the women looked. It surprised her when she noticed a little wet splotch on one of he glossy pictures, and for a brief moment she thought it was something nasty, like perhaps the remnants of Shinji's last jerking off session. But, then she realized it wasn't anything at all like that, it was water. More specifically, it was a tear drop. From her own eyes.
She sniffled and quickly shut the magazine and put everything back where she'd found out. She'd be damned if she'd get caught crying over this stuff. She'd be damned if she got caught snooping in it in the first place!!
She didn't ever want Shinji or anyone else to know about her feelings of inadequacy. She worked very hard to maintain an air of toughness. So, that nobody would ever catch on. So, that nobody would ever feel sorry for her, pity her. She didn't want anyone's sympathy, certainly not Shinji's.
She had no trouble being confident in herself when it came to her fighting abilities. To her ability to keep her hollowfied self in check. To survive. These were things that she had never had a complex about. These were things she understood that she excelled at.
But, it was different...when you wanted to catch the eye of a man, but at the same time didn't want to compromise yourself to do it. Why should she have to change herself to catch Shinji's eye? And what's worse, what if she tried and he didn't notice? Or he thought it was stupid?
It didn't matter, really. She could show off her chest, she could put on a dress and make-up, let her hair down or put it in a more adult or mature style. And it wouldn't be her. And, it also wouldn't matter. No matter what she did to herself, she would never...ever...look like the girls in these magazines, in these manga, in the videos and anime, or the descriptions in these books. She would never be what Shinji was looking for.
And, that made her very glad that for right now, for this moment in time, she was completely and totally alone in the warehouse. Because, she knew that whenever she reflected upon things like this, she would never be able to hold back the flood of tears that slid their way down her cheeks.
She, instead, just had to hope that she would be finished by the time they began arriving back at the warehouse...