Hiyori hates herself.
She hates, hates hates herself.
She's sitting in front of the bathroom mirror, as the others complain and laugh loudly outside. She's taken off her jacket, her mouth set as she stares at her reflection.
She hates herself.
She hates the spiky, coarse hair that only looks slightly tolerable when she puts it in ponytails. How many times has she heard Shinji say, "Why don't you do your hair differently today?" How many times has she tried to comb it, to curl it, to put it in a braid, in a bun? There was one time - ONE time - that she snuck out at night and went to the convenience store. Almost guiltily, she'd bought a bottle of conditioner. She'd returned furtively, and the next morning, she'd followed all the directions on the label.
Shinji and the others had laughed until they cried, great fat tears running down their cheeks, their fists pounding the ground, their chests heaving with unsuppressed amusement. Even Hachi was trying not to laugh - his eyes looked slightly sheepish. That day was the day that Hiyori had run two towns over and cried in a park until she couldn't cry anymore. Until no more tears could be forced out of her eyes. Until she decided enough was enough, and she'd never, never try to pretty up her hair anymore. She washed her face, waited 'till the puffiness of her eyes had disappeared, and returned home.
"Oh, Hiyori," Shinji had said, surprised. "Where'd you go?"
"None of your business, baldy," she'd snapped like she usually would. "Shut your freaking mouth and go sit in a hole."
She hates her eyes, her feline, squinty eyes, her cold eyes, her hating eyes. The eyes that pronounce not being impressed in the least. The eyes that say, is that all you can do? The eyes that are always derisive, scornful, angry. Almost bitter, some people would say.
They're not round. They're not sparkling with joy. They're not shining with innocence. They're not bursting with excitement. Heck, they're barely framed by the smallest, shortest eyelashes she's ever seen. They're stupid, and she hates them, because all they can see is Shinji, Shinji, Shinji every. Single. Freaking. Day.
She hates her nose. It's snarky and sarcastic and goes to a defiant point. It's not elegant. Not defined. Not sophisticated. All she can do with it is look down it at whichever unfortunate person has happened to cross her path on a bad day.
She laughs loudly, hoarsely. Every day is a bad day for her.
She hates her face. It's crappy and small and round. She's not a kid. For heaven's sake, she's over a century old. And she gets sassed by people ONE TENTH OF HER AGE.
"Are your parents here?"
"Are you here by yourself?"
"How old might you be?"
"Do you go to middle school?"
Do I look like I go to middle school? she'd like to report, and a nasty, nasally voice whispers in her ear, Well, yeah, I do.
Her face is like a kid's and it's dumb and idiotic and she hates it.
She hates her body, for the same reason she hates her face. Everyone, every frigging person in Karakura Town and beyond, HAS to assume that she's some innocent, brainless child with no sense or no intelligence. Am I that young-looking? she thinks, wrinkling her nose. She inspects her reflection and grunts. Yes, she is.
Her arms are short and her legs are stubby and her hands are tiny and her entire body is just freaking SHORT. Who on earth is in the hundred thirties at a hundred something years old? Seriously, it's just not freaking possible. She can't stand it. Shinji's nearly three heads taller than her. Kids people assume are close to her age are nearing the hundred fifties. Even Lisa is taller than her.
She hates her personality.
She can't help but be condescending and sour and just plain mean. None of the girls in Karakura Town are like her. They're either sweet, naive, kind-hearted, lovely, and gentle, or clever, sharp-minded, quick-witted, and quick to respond. Some are considerably prettier than others. Some are beautiful.
Not her.
No, not her.
She can't stand it. She can't stand herself. She's trash, she's garbage, she is such a stupid idiot.
Hiyori gives the mirror a blank stare.
Shinji was talking about his new "first" love again, some person called Oriko-chan or Ochiyo-chan. No, Orihime-chan. First of all, what kind of person is called Orihime? Second of all, why does Shinji have to attach that stupid -chan? She's not even his first love. Hiyori actually doubts he even had a first love.
Freaking, freaking Shinji. Stupid, idiot, baldy Shinji. He can go die for all she cares.
But that's not true, and she knows it, oh, she does. She's the stupid one. She's the idiot. She's the freaking blind moron who can't freaking see what's in front of her eyes.
She's not pretty. She's not nice.
"Hiyori?" a familiar voice calls, and Hiyori's heart starts to pound so hard she nearly faints. It's Shinji again. What the heck does he want now?
"WHAT," she says, hoping he can't hear the raspiness in her voice.
Well, he doesn't. And she doesn't care. She shouldn't care anymore. She has to stop caring.
"Guess what! My lovely Orihime-chan bid me goodbye today after school ~ " Shinji sings, and Hiyori just gives up.
She's had it. She's had it with him flirting with every available or even not available female. She's had it with sleeping at night with tears under her eyelids. She's had it with pounding her fist on the wall in some abandoned alley, wishing she was more, wishing she was better, prettier - no, beautiful. She's tired of wishing that she was taller, had longer hair, a more attractive face. She's had it with Shinji.
But why can't she let go of him? She's just so freaking stupid.
Hiyori stares at herself, her reflection, and what she sees makes her tremble. Her round, childish face. Her choppy, messy, coarse hair. Her scowl, her narrowed eyes, her wrinkled nose. Her small form, her freckles, the downturned mouth which nothing but derogatory comments exit.
She hates herself.
She hates herself.
She hates herself.
So she doesn't even stop herself when she breaks into great, choking sobs that make her chest hurt and her throat burn. She doesn't even swallow and gulp down the swell of crippling pain that makes her curl up on herself. She doesn't care anymore when the sound of hurrying, frantic footsteps make their way in front of the bathroom. Lisa, Rose, Love, Hachi, Mashiro, Kensei - their panicked voices make their way to her ears.
"Hiyori! Are you okay?"
"What's wrong?"
"What happened?"
"Open the door! Open the DOOR!"
"What's going on?"
And then, her heart crumbles and thumps erratically as the door is nearly smashed down.
"Hiyori! HIYORI!"
Go away, Shinji. Leave me alone. Do you know what you do to me? Go away. Go away. Go away.
She hates herself.
She hates herself, because she's violent and aggressive and ugly and tinyand STUPID STUPID STUPID - leave me ALONE ALREADY, Shinji, don't get all over my case - what's your problem, mind your own business! - or maybe it does involve you - I don't care - I don't care -
She hates herself, because she's Sarugaki Hiyori, and she's hideous and foul-mouthed and idiotic.
She hates herself, because she's never been enough, and she still isn't, she won't ever, ever, ever be. Not then, not now, not ever.
Never.
She'll never be enough.