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"Fragments of Faith" - Sarugaki Hiyori (Bleach)
~
My first Bleachfic. This was actually written as my 3rd person sample for an RP, but it's...really prettymuch a fanfic, so I'm posting it as such. And yes, I got in to the RP. :3
She should have known that it was a trick right from the start. Telling her that he wanted to be her friend, that he hoped she would accept him, learn about him gradually, and let him learn about her as well. Asking her to come along with him to a place like the Maggot’s Nest, gaining her trust and respect little by little. Bullshit, all of it. Captain of the 12th division or not, Urahara Kisuke had still been one of those sneaky murderers first, and that was how he’d always be. She’d been stupid to trust him at all. He wasn’t a trustworthy person, even he’d known it, yet he still asked for her trust; that was what really pissed her off…as well as the fact that he’d said he’d placed his trust in her that night, and she hadn’t been strong enough to uphold that trust. (Shinji and the others hadn’t been strong enough either, which made her feel a little better, if only because misery loves company, but that smugly bitter feeling didn’t solve anything, and it didn’t change the fact that she’d been weak and she’d been a fool and that it had bitten her in ass in the end.)
That pissed her off, too, that after everything she’d been through, after (pretty literally) fighting her way into a vice-captain position, ultimately she still hadn’t been strong enough when it really counted. Why had they made her a vice-captain then? Was it out of pity, or just in the hopes of shutting her up? That couldn’t really be the case--she was at least as strong as the others after all, if not more so--but just thinking about it made her want to hit someone. She scowled. Too bad Shinji wasn’t around.
Stupid Shinji. If she hadn’t half-wished he was nearby, he’d doubtless be loitering close at hand, picking his nose or listening to that stupid jazz music his mp3 player was full of.
…Still, despite all their name calling and cat-fighting, he’d done his best to save her, and despite the constant abuse she still put him through, he cared about her just as much as any of the others, perhaps a little more with the way he always picked on her. That meant something to her, though she wasn’t entirely sure just what exactly that something was, but it was a tightening in her chest and a determination to do whatever she had to for Shinji’s plans to work, not least of all because if they did, Aizen would finally get some of his for doing this to them in the first place. (Then again, her cynical side reminded her, they were all more or less stuck with each other, and even though they were outcasts now, they were still a lot stronger than they’d been before they’d been Aizen’s unwitting, unwilling experiments. So Shinji was right, they did have a lot to thank that bastard for, one way or another…and Hiyori’s vote was for a very bloody, very painful showing of their gratitude.)
That urge to hit something rose to uncontrollable levels whenever she thought about Aizen for too long. Standing, she shoved her hands in her pockets and went in search of a victim, namely one Hirako Shinji. Ichigo would do just about as well, really, she admitted to herself with a slight smirk, though he was still more inclined to fight back than Shinji was these days.
Kurosaki Ichigo. She’d thought he was a presumptuous little snot at first for trying to get help from them without giving anything back, but after watching him, after how long he’d taken to subdue his inner Hollow, she’d found herself…maybe starting to like him, just a little. Because there was a lot of power there, a lot of inner strength and latent ability to be tapped, which was something to take note of, and because he didn’t wuss out and quit halfway through when it really mattered. Because he was willing to work to get stronger, because he’d overcome his initial fears about facing himself, because he paid attention to her and had taken her seriously. Because in the end, he was one of them, whether he admitted it or not. And there was just something about him… Ultimately, she knew, the fact was that he was kind, which should have made her bristle and push him away, but it was a rough enough sort of kindness, and interspersed with plenty of violence and enough fighting and shouting matches that she could accept it as genuine. None of that sappy ‘let’s be friends’ or ‘let’s learn about each other little by little’ bullshit, just throwing himself at her in each and every spar--not holding back, not going easy on her because she looked like a kid or because she was a girl, just offering a challengingly toothy grin or a backhanded compliment here and there.
“Hey,” she said, slouching over to most of the rest of the group (minus Shinji and Rose, who must’ve gone to get something to eat) and scowling down at them. “Where’s Ichigo?” She knew he’d run off to fight the last time some Arrancar had shown up (she’d been too angry to even yell at him when she found out Shinji had let him go, and had only been able to express her extreme displeasure with a sandal to his face and a kick to his gut that had sent him catapulting into the warehouse wall), and that he’d been allowed to go home to recover afterwards. But surely he was awake by now, and ready to pick up his training again after getting his ass kicked…
Mashiro and Kensei stopped bickering over whatever it was they’d found to annoy each other over, and Lisa’s eyes flicked up from her magazine, which in and of itself was telling enough that something had happened. Hiyori didn’t have a chance to press them about it before Love said, sounding almost apologetic, “…Shinji didn’t tell you? He’s gone off to rescue Orihime. In Hueco Mundo.”
Hiyori felt her stomach drop, that sick feeling overriding the flash of anger that accompanied it. “WHAT? No way! No way would Shinji let him do that!”
Sweeping the group with a glare, as if challenging them to defy her words, she spun around and dashed out of the warehouse, teeth gritted in anger and--if she were honest with herself--hurt. That dickhead, he couldn’t have left: he was still so hopeless, even after a month, he could hardly hold his mask for longer than 11 seconds, and anyway, he was one of them now, wasn’t he? Or…had he done what he’d said he would right from the start and just used them?
Hiyori slowed, finally stopping altogether at a nearby park and plunking herself down on the nearest bench to brood, trying to push aside everything except her anger and mostly failing. Try as she might, she couldn’t put aside the fact that she hadn’t felt like this since Hikifune-taichou had left without saying goodbye…
“It’s gonna be okay, ya know.”
Her eyes shot sideways to find Shinji leaning against the back of the bench, staring out over the empty playground, a bulging convenience store bag dangling from one hand. She’d been so busy trying to sort herself out she hadn’t even noticed him. She wondered how long he’d been there.
“It’s gonna be okay?” she repeated through gritted teeth, eyes narrowing dangerously as one hand crept towards her sandal. That was just the kind of laid-back thing she hated to hear, and though her initial anger had cooled somewhat, it never really took much to get her going again.
“Yeah,” Shinji said, not looking over at her or flinching in the least, calmly, seriously enough that it gave her pause. “It will. He’ll come back.”
The tiny blonde girl continued to glare at him, looking for a sign that he was lying to her, that he was trying to soften the inevitable impact of losing the newest addition to their little mishmash of a family, but as ever, with Shinji it was impossible to tell.
“Hmmph,” she snorted after a long, silent moment had passed, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping down on the bench, turning her glare out over the playground as well. “He’d better.”
Because whenever he did, she had a sandal with his name on it.
My first Bleachfic. This was actually written as my 3rd person sample for an RP, but it's...really prettymuch a fanfic, so I'm posting it as such. And yes, I got in to the RP. :3
She should have known that it was a trick right from the start. Telling her that he wanted to be her friend, that he hoped she would accept him, learn about him gradually, and let him learn about her as well. Asking her to come along with him to a place like the Maggot’s Nest, gaining her trust and respect little by little. Bullshit, all of it. Captain of the 12th division or not, Urahara Kisuke had still been one of those sneaky murderers first, and that was how he’d always be. She’d been stupid to trust him at all. He wasn’t a trustworthy person, even he’d known it, yet he still asked for her trust; that was what really pissed her off…as well as the fact that he’d said he’d placed his trust in her that night, and she hadn’t been strong enough to uphold that trust. (Shinji and the others hadn’t been strong enough either, which made her feel a little better, if only because misery loves company, but that smugly bitter feeling didn’t solve anything, and it didn’t change the fact that she’d been weak and she’d been a fool and that it had bitten her in ass in the end.)
That pissed her off, too, that after everything she’d been through, after (pretty literally) fighting her way into a vice-captain position, ultimately she still hadn’t been strong enough when it really counted. Why had they made her a vice-captain then? Was it out of pity, or just in the hopes of shutting her up? That couldn’t really be the case--she was at least as strong as the others after all, if not more so--but just thinking about it made her want to hit someone. She scowled. Too bad Shinji wasn’t around.
Stupid Shinji. If she hadn’t half-wished he was nearby, he’d doubtless be loitering close at hand, picking his nose or listening to that stupid jazz music his mp3 player was full of.
…Still, despite all their name calling and cat-fighting, he’d done his best to save her, and despite the constant abuse she still put him through, he cared about her just as much as any of the others, perhaps a little more with the way he always picked on her. That meant something to her, though she wasn’t entirely sure just what exactly that something was, but it was a tightening in her chest and a determination to do whatever she had to for Shinji’s plans to work, not least of all because if they did, Aizen would finally get some of his for doing this to them in the first place. (Then again, her cynical side reminded her, they were all more or less stuck with each other, and even though they were outcasts now, they were still a lot stronger than they’d been before they’d been Aizen’s unwitting, unwilling experiments. So Shinji was right, they did have a lot to thank that bastard for, one way or another…and Hiyori’s vote was for a very bloody, very painful showing of their gratitude.)
That urge to hit something rose to uncontrollable levels whenever she thought about Aizen for too long. Standing, she shoved her hands in her pockets and went in search of a victim, namely one Hirako Shinji. Ichigo would do just about as well, really, she admitted to herself with a slight smirk, though he was still more inclined to fight back than Shinji was these days.
Kurosaki Ichigo. She’d thought he was a presumptuous little snot at first for trying to get help from them without giving anything back, but after watching him, after how long he’d taken to subdue his inner Hollow, she’d found herself…maybe starting to like him, just a little. Because there was a lot of power there, a lot of inner strength and latent ability to be tapped, which was something to take note of, and because he didn’t wuss out and quit halfway through when it really mattered. Because he was willing to work to get stronger, because he’d overcome his initial fears about facing himself, because he paid attention to her and had taken her seriously. Because in the end, he was one of them, whether he admitted it or not. And there was just something about him… Ultimately, she knew, the fact was that he was kind, which should have made her bristle and push him away, but it was a rough enough sort of kindness, and interspersed with plenty of violence and enough fighting and shouting matches that she could accept it as genuine. None of that sappy ‘let’s be friends’ or ‘let’s learn about each other little by little’ bullshit, just throwing himself at her in each and every spar--not holding back, not going easy on her because she looked like a kid or because she was a girl, just offering a challengingly toothy grin or a backhanded compliment here and there.
“Hey,” she said, slouching over to most of the rest of the group (minus Shinji and Rose, who must’ve gone to get something to eat) and scowling down at them. “Where’s Ichigo?” She knew he’d run off to fight the last time some Arrancar had shown up (she’d been too angry to even yell at him when she found out Shinji had let him go, and had only been able to express her extreme displeasure with a sandal to his face and a kick to his gut that had sent him catapulting into the warehouse wall), and that he’d been allowed to go home to recover afterwards. But surely he was awake by now, and ready to pick up his training again after getting his ass kicked…
Mashiro and Kensei stopped bickering over whatever it was they’d found to annoy each other over, and Lisa’s eyes flicked up from her magazine, which in and of itself was telling enough that something had happened. Hiyori didn’t have a chance to press them about it before Love said, sounding almost apologetic, “…Shinji didn’t tell you? He’s gone off to rescue Orihime. In Hueco Mundo.”
Hiyori felt her stomach drop, that sick feeling overriding the flash of anger that accompanied it. “WHAT? No way! No way would Shinji let him do that!”
Sweeping the group with a glare, as if challenging them to defy her words, she spun around and dashed out of the warehouse, teeth gritted in anger and--if she were honest with herself--hurt. That dickhead, he couldn’t have left: he was still so hopeless, even after a month, he could hardly hold his mask for longer than 11 seconds, and anyway, he was one of them now, wasn’t he? Or…had he done what he’d said he would right from the start and just used them?
Hiyori slowed, finally stopping altogether at a nearby park and plunking herself down on the nearest bench to brood, trying to push aside everything except her anger and mostly failing. Try as she might, she couldn’t put aside the fact that she hadn’t felt like this since Hikifune-taichou had left without saying goodbye…
“It’s gonna be okay, ya know.”
Her eyes shot sideways to find Shinji leaning against the back of the bench, staring out over the empty playground, a bulging convenience store bag dangling from one hand. She’d been so busy trying to sort herself out she hadn’t even noticed him. She wondered how long he’d been there.
“It’s gonna be okay?” she repeated through gritted teeth, eyes narrowing dangerously as one hand crept towards her sandal. That was just the kind of laid-back thing she hated to hear, and though her initial anger had cooled somewhat, it never really took much to get her going again.
“Yeah,” Shinji said, not looking over at her or flinching in the least, calmly, seriously enough that it gave her pause. “It will. He’ll come back.”
The tiny blonde girl continued to glare at him, looking for a sign that he was lying to her, that he was trying to soften the inevitable impact of losing the newest addition to their little mishmash of a family, but as ever, with Shinji it was impossible to tell.
“Hmmph,” she snorted after a long, silent moment had passed, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping down on the bench, turning her glare out over the playground as well. “He’d better.”
Because whenever he did, she had a sandal with his name on it.