Hits Different
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, as much as I wish I did. If it were mine, those Vizards would stop babbling about their powers and just kick Quincy butts, but let's not get sidetracked...
Heads up: This story stands on its own, portraying the Vizards in the human world. Oh, and be prepared for me to put Hiyori through all kinds of jealous/angsty situations. If we had to place it on the timeline, I'd say a couple of years before the Agent of the Shinigami arc, like 6 years after "After the Rain". No need to worry about spoilers, though.
And just a quick note: Brace yourselves for Hiyori's colorful language!
This is taking inspiration from Taylor Swift's "Hits Different" song as I gear up for her concert in a couple of weeks. With her songs on replay in my head all day, it's like having these two dummies and her tunes jamming around the clock. Concert excitement is real, and I can't wait to immerse myself in the experience!
Chapter 1: Mess of me
I washed my hands of us at the club
You made a mess of me
I pictured you with other girls in love
Then threw up on the street
Like waiting for a bus that never shows
You just start walkin' on
Insanity, that was the only logical conclusion. Hiyori couldn't believe she had given in to the pressure. It had been a momentary lapse in judgment, a temporary breakdown of her resolve. And now, here she was, begrudgingly standing outside a club on the bustling streets of Karakura Town with the rest of the Vizards.
Mashiro's pleading had been relentless for the past 2 days. "Pleaseeeeeeeeeee, Hiyoriiiiiiiiii. Come on, it'll be fun!"
Lisa's raised eyebrow and pointed gaze had accused Hiyori of acting like a stubborn grandmother who refused to leave her cozy home on a Friday night. And Rose had simply flashed his charming smile and added, "It's been a while since we did something like this. Let's just enjoy ourselves."
Shinji, leaning casually against a lamppost and playing with his tie, chimed in, his smooth aura almost palpable. "Ya know, monkey, sometimes you've gotta let loose. It's not every day we can escape from the chaos."
Kensei, standing next to Shinji with his arms crossed, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and if you keep frowning like that, you'll give yourself wrinkles."
Hiyori scowled at all of them, trying to get her already bad mood in check and avoiding killing the others. "You're all insufferable."
Mashiro gave her an innocent grin. "Come on, Hiyorin! Let's just have some fun for once."
And so, Hiyori found herself dressed in attire that was far from her usual red track suit, her hair styled in a way she hadn't bothered with in centuries, and makeup that felt like an extra layer of foreign skin. She couldn't believe she had let them talk her into this, maybe Lisa was right, she was getting softer in her old age.
Two hours of primping and prepping, dabbing, and brushing, waxing and applying creams on various body parts she'd rather not think about—it was all part of the ordeal. And all for what? For a night out in the human world, surrounded by humans themselves. Hiyori hated humans.
She glanced around at her companions, taking in their appearances. Mashiro's wild hair was tamed, at least to some extent, and her outfit was a far cry from her usual energetic style. Lisa, normally the epitome of nonchalance, had put in effort to enhance her features with a touch of makeup. Even Rose and Love, with their perpetually calm demeanor, seemed to have polished their appearances. Kensei had opted for a more relaxed yet stylish look. He wore dark jeans and a fitted navy-blue shirt, the sleeves casually rolled up. Despite his seemingly nonchalant demeanor, his gaze held an intensity that seemed to pierce through the crowd.
And then there was the master of smoothness himself: Shinji. His attire exuded a suave and charismatic aura. He sported a tailored black jacket/pants combo paired with a crisp beige shirt, and yes, his tie was untied—a fact that Hiyori had yelled at him about before he left the warehouse. He simply shrugged and mumbled while ruffling her own hair, "It's fashion, a little gremlin like ya wouldn't understand." His dark blonde locks meticulously styled, and his trademark grin hinted at his mischievous nature.
Hiyori's thoughts snapped back to the present, and she couldn't evade the inevitable any longer – they had arrived at the very place that haunted her nightmares. The entrance to the club swung open, unleashing a blend of pulsating music and laughter. Neon lights painted the sidewalk with an ethereal hue, casting an almost surreal glow upon the pavement. She sighed inwardly, bracing herself for the ordeal ahead. Tugging at the unfamiliar fabric of her simple, black dress – the only one she owned – she felt a surge of self-consciousness that she hadn't experienced in centuries.
Mashiro bounded up to her, a mischievous grin on her lips. "Ready to go, Hiyori? Trust me, this is going to be a blast!"
Hiyori offered a halfhearted smirk in response. "Yeah, yeah, let's just get this over with."
As they entered the club, the overwhelming noise and vibrant atmosphere hit Hiyori like a wall. The pulsating music reverberated through her, making her feel more out of place than ever. She observed the humans around her, their movements fluid and carefree. It was as if they had no worries beyond the next dance beat.
The rest of the Vizards wasted no time immersing themselves in the crowd. Mashiro dragged Lisa onto the dance floor, where their moves were a mix of graceful and exuberant. Rose, too, joined in with a partner he had just met, twirling her around effortlessly and the others got lost in the crowd of people.
And then there was Hiyori, standing on the sidelines, her sense of detachment growing stronger. She contemplated her next move and decided to venture into the bar area, hoping a strong drink might help quell her jumbled nerves. Sake or tequila, she mused, something potent to take the edge off. She swiftly placed her order, and the bubbly-booby lady bartender took a moment to pour it. Seating herself on one of the stools, her legs barely reaching the ground, she dangled them as she observed the throng of people around her.
She clutched her drink a little closer, using it as a barrier between herself and the lively surroundings. The rhythm of bodies moving seemed distant to her, the echoes of laughter faint in her ears. Now and then, someone would approach, attempting to engage her in conversation, but she met their attempts with nothing more than a dismissive glance. Her unease was palpable, etched across her features as she tried to navigate this unfamiliar environment.
A particularly persistent red-haired guy tried to engage her in conversation from the seat next to her, leaning closer to be heard over the music. "Hey there, beautiful. You come here often?"
Hiyori rolled her eyes, the impulse to smack him with her black ballet flat – a choice Lisa had insisted upon – "Who goes to a club in sandals, Hiyori? You're going to get your toes step on." Lisa's reprimand still echoed in her mind. Hiyori's thoughts snapped back to the present as she felt the gentle grip of the guy's hand on her arm. "No, and I don't intend to start now," she retorted, a hint of her usual sarcasm coloring her response.
The guy's confidence seemed to waver for a moment before he tried again, this time getting closer to her lips. "Come on, don't be like that. Let's enjoy the night."
"Enjoy it without me," The blonde shot back, her irritation palpable.
Eventually, the guy got the message and slinked away. Hiyori sighed, taking another sip of her drink. She wasn't entirely sure why she had agreed to this, to subject herself to an environment so foreign to her. She longed for the familiar comfort of Soul Society their complexities and challenges seemed like a more welcoming alternative. But she wouldn't admit that, not even if you put a sword to her throat – well, maybe then, but there was no going back now. Being categorized as Hollows meant there was no place for them there, and if it weren't for Kisuke and Yoruichi, they'd likely be dead already. So, she needed to embrace her new reality and make the best of it. At least that's what Shinji would say during those nights where her nightmares keep both awake. And even though each Vizard had a room, Shinji always seemed to magically appear whenever she needed him the most. It was as if he possessed a sixth sense, sensing when she was feeling like shit or when their shared memories were haunting her.
Shinji….
Wait, where was he? She snapped back to reality, realizing she hadn't spotted him for a while. Her gaze darted around the room, searching for his distinctive presence. Her attention landed on the entrance, and a tumult of emotions surged within her. There he was, the de facto leader of their motley crew, Shinji, charismatic as ever, deep in conversation with a very attractive, very tall, black-haired girl. A frown tugged at the corners of her lips, and she couldn't ignore the twisting sensation of irritation bubbling up within her.
As if to counter her internal feelings, she ordered a series of shots in quick succession. The fiery burn of the alcohol provided a temporary distraction from the turmoil inside her, giving her a moment to regroup and collect her thoughts.
As Hiyori downed her drinks, the bartender caught sight of her and decided to intervene. "Hey, miss, you've had quite a few. Can I see some ID?"
Hiyori shot the bartender a withering glare, her irritation amplified by the alcohol coursing through her veins. "ID? You want to see my ID? How about you go and fuck yourself instead?"
The bartender raised an eyebrow, seemingly unbothered by her hostile demeanor. "Look, I'm just doing my job. I can't serve someone who's had too much to drink, and I also need to make sure you're at least 20. My colleague over there should have asked for your ID before serving you the first one." The male bartender cast a sidelong glance at the lively girl who was taking a shot from another girl's belly button.
The small former Shinigami huffed in frustration, pulling out a small card from a pocket hidden beneath her dress. She shoved it in his direction, not caring if he took offense. "Here, take a good look at my age and then kindly leave me alone."
He glanced at the card briefly before nodding, his expression unchanged. "Alright, miss. Just remember, I'm not the one you'll have to deal with if things get out of hand."
"Trust me," Hiyori retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'm more than capable of handling myself."
The bartender left her be, moving on to attend to other patrons. Hiyori let out a frustrated sigh, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance at her own behavior. She slammed her glass onto the counter, her mind a whirlwind of emotions she couldn't quite put into words.
With a heavy heart, she glanced back at Shinji and the girl. They seemed to be getting along well, laughter and easy smiles exchanged between them. Hiyori clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around the shot glass. She knew she had no right to feel this way, but the feeling of inadequacy gnawed at her.
"Why the hell does he have to do this now?" she muttered to herself, her resentment directed more at the situation than at Shinji himself. She had always been fiery and fiercely independent, never one to openly admit her vulnerabilities. But seeing him with someone else, even if it was just casual conversation, stirred up a storm of emotions she wasn't equipped to handle.
As the music pulsed and the club's energy intensified, Hiyori's thoughts spun in circles. She took another sip of her drink, the liquid burning its way down her throat. She watched the girl laugh at something Shinji said and started to caress his arm, her heart clenching. Hiyori was torn between the desire to confront him and the nagging realization that she had no right to feel possessive or upset.
After what she thought was an eternity, the black-haired girl excused herself, leaving Shinji standing by the entrance. He, a bit absent minded. scanned the club, his gaze eventually landing on the small blonde girl he knew for more than 100 years. A knowing smirk played on his lips, as if he could sense her reiatsu spiking on uneven waves out of control from across the room. Hiyori met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and frustration, her honey eyes conveying a silent challenge.
He started making his way toward her into the stool area of the bar, his confident stride drawing attention from those around him. Hiyori braced herself, a war of emotions raging within her. She couldn't decide whether to give him a piece of her mind or to retreat further into her fortress of stubborn pride.
"Yo, chibi," Shinji greeted as he approached, his tone light and casual.
She scowled at him, her irritation simmering just below the surface. "Having fun, Captain Smooth-Talker?"
He chuckled, leaning against the bar counter, and playing with his soft dark yellow locks. "You could say that. You, on the other hand, seem to be in a bit of a mood."
Her eyes flashed with defiance. "Don't flatter yourself. I've got better things to do than watch you work your charms."
Shinji's grin widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, Hi-yo-ri, you wound me. Here I was, thinking you couldn't resist watching me in action."
Her scowl deepened, and she took another drink, hoping the alcohol would numb the chaos inside her. "Save it for someone who cares."
His playful demeanor shifted, his expression becoming more serious. He leaned in slightly, his brown gaze locking onto hers. "You know, jealousy doesn't really suit you."
She bristled at his comment, feeling her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Who said anything about being jealous? I couldn't care less about your little flirtations. Is this also one of your first loves? There are so many that no one can keep count. I guess especially you."
The former Captain chuckled softly, his breath warm against her ear. "Right, and that's why you've been glaring daggers at me the whole time."
His proximity only fueled her frustration, she could smell the alcohol in his breath. "You're delusional if you think I'm bothered by this, Ero Hage."
Shinji's gaze held a hint of something she couldn't quite decipher. "Believe what you want, Hiyori. But just so you know, you're the only one I'd choose to annoy like this." His words caught her off guard, a strange mixture of emotions drowning the noise in her head. She didn't have a chance to respond before he straightened up, a mischievous grin reclaiming his features.
"Well," he said, pushing away from the counter, "I'm gonna go grab another drink. You gonna be okay here?"
She scowled at him, but her irritation was starting to lose its edge. "I don't need your pity, Shinji."
He winked at her, a glimmer of affection in his eyes. "Who said anything about pity? Just want to make sure you're not tearing the place down. Paying for a destroyed bar is quite out of our current budget."
With that, he walked away, leaving Hiyori with a bad taste in her mouth that refused to go away. As a response, she downed the rest of her drink in one gulp, her mind a cacophony of irritation, envy, and a surprising undercurrent of something she adamantly refused to confront. As the night unfolded around her, Hiyori found herself thrust into an internal battleground, where the clash of conflicting feelings was as intense as the music vibrating through the club.
As the night marched forward and the pulsating rhythm of the music continued to throb, Hiyori's inner turmoil escalated like a crescendo. The alcohol she had consumed provided no refuge from the mounting tempest of emotions swirling within her. With each tick of the clock, her annoyance and jealousy waged war against a stubborn awareness that she was grappling with emotions she was stubbornly unwilling to admit.
Shinji's playful banter had ignited a fire within her, one she couldn't extinguish. She watched him engage in light-hearted conversations with others, mostly pretty girls, his smooth charisma drawing people in like moths to a flame. It was both captivating and infuriating, and she found herself unable to tear her gaze away.
Eventually, the girl who had been talking to Shinji rejoined her friends on the dance floor, leaving him momentarily alone one more time. Seizing the opportunity to confront him, Hiyori stormed over to where he stood, her irritation fueling her every wobbly step.
"Hey, baldy!" she spat out, her voice edged with a mix of anger and frustration over the loud music.
Shinji turned toward her, his expression a mix of amusement and bemusement. " Ora ora, little monkey. Ya came ta ask me for a dance, huh?"
His casual demeanor only fueled her anger further. "You think you're so smooth, don't you? Flirting around with whoever catches your eye."
His raised eyebrows and the curve of his lips formed a knowing smile. "Again with this, Hiyori? Can't you just lighten up a bit? Or is it that you want me all to yourself?"
The shorter Vizard's fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. "Don't be delusional. I'm just sick of watching you play your little games."
He chuckled softly, his gaze never leaving hers. "Games? Is that what you think this is?"
"Cut the crap, Shinji!" she snapped, her patience wearing thin. "I'm not some giggling girl who falls for your charms."
His grin remained, but there was a hint of something deeper in his eyes. "You're right, Hiyori. You're not like anyone else."
Her anger intensified, her frustration bubbling over. Without another word, she swung a punch at him, aiming for his shoulder. To her surprise, he easily sidestepped her attack, his movements smooth and almost graceful.
A couple of people glanced at them, but frankly Hiyori has never cared what humans think of her.
"What the hell are you doing?" she growled, her fists still clenched.
He chuckled, his tone teasing. "You tried to hit me... I just moved. Don't know if you're aware, but we're in a crowded club surrounded by humans. You could end up killing someone, you angry beaver."
Her chest heaved with exertion and anger, her vision momentarily clouded by a red haze. She threw another punch, this time aiming at his abdomen. Again, he effortlessly evaded her attack, his movements appearing almost effortless. She always forgot, until moments like this, how much stronger than her Shinji really was, and at this point, it only made her angrier.
His voice pulled her out of her thoughts once again. "Come on, Hiyori," he said, his tone still playful. "Is this really how you want to spend your night?"
Her frustration reached its breaking point, and she couldn't take it anymore. With a final frustrated growl, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the club, Mashiro's complaints be damn. The night air hitting her like a physical blow. She stumbled slightly, her steps unsteady from the alcohol and the surge of emotions that had overtaken her.
Turning around to make sure he wasn't following—good, he wasn't—she muttered to herself, "Enjoy your stupid bimbos, stupid Shinji."
The half-drunk girl made her way down the dimly lit streets of Karakura, her anger began to give way to a growing sense of nausea. She clutched her stomach, her breath coming in ragged gasps. It didn't take long for her body to rebel against the alcohol she had consumed earlier. The small woman staggered to the side of the street, her stomach heaving as she doubled over. The contents of her stomach spilled onto the pavement, her face contorting in a mixture of discomfort and embarrassment. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling utterly miserable and stepping on a puddle to avoid her own vomit.
"Great," she muttered to herself, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Just great."
The realization of how her night had turned from jealousy-fueled confrontation to this embarrassing spectacle hit her hard. She had let her emotions get the best of her, and now she was paying the price. With a heavy sigh, she straightened up and took a shaky step forward, her gaze determined despite her disheveled appearance. She had made a fool of herself, but she wasn't about to let it defeat her. Hiyori adjusted her clothing as best she could and began to make her way back, her steps more measured this time, afraid to use any type of shunpō that could make her throw up again. The weight of her emotions still lingered, but she was determined to face whatever came her way with the same stubborn resolve she always carried.
Shinji observed Hiyori's unsteady walk down the dimly lit streets of Karakura, her body swaying slightly with each step. He had to physically restrained both Love and Rose from going after her when they realized she was 1) leaving the club abruptly without a word, 2) deeply upset with Shinji, and 3) fucked-up drunk. If anyone was going to take care of the mess that was Sarugaki Hiyori, it was going to be him. A faint smile curved his lips as he watched her from a distance. Despite their frequent bickering and clashes, there was a part of him that held a certain admiration for Hiyori's unyielding spirit and guarded emotions – a rather twisted part of him that reveled in the challenge. Having known her for such a long time and having weathered countless trials together, he understood that beneath her tough exterior lay a vulnerability she rarely revealed, not even to him.
As she continued walking, he stayed 30 steps behind, making sure she didn't stumble or encounter any trouble. His presence was like a silent guardian, a watchful presence in the shadows. He knew that Hiyori wouldn't appreciate his interference, but he couldn't help himself. There was a deep-rooted concern for her safety that he couldn't ignore, an' what if some damn lucky Hollow decided to show up while she was tipsy out of her mind.
The night was quiet, the only sounds being the distant hum of streetlights and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. Hiyori's steps were gradually steadying, indicating that the effects of the alcohol were beginning to wear off. Despite the tension between them earlier, Shinji felt a sense of relief knowing that she would likely make it home without incident.
As Hiyori approached a dimly lit alley, her steps faltered slightly. Instinctively, Shinji's reiatsu shifted just enough to provide a faint shimmer of comfort, a presence to reassure her. He watched as she hesitated, her gaze narrowing as if assessing her surroundings. A stray cat darted across the alley, causing Hiyori to jump slightly in surprise. Her hand instinctively went to the place where her invisible hilt of her zanpakuto would be if she had her normal attire, a reminder that her warrior's instincts were always sharp, even if she was drunk. With a sigh of relief, he watched as the small blonde's tense posture relaxed. She seemed to decide that the alley held no immediate threat and continued her way. He was very aware to maintain as much distance as possible, allowing her to believe she was alone while ensuring her safety from the shadows.
As Hiyori finally reached the warehouse, Shinji's reiatsu receded entirely. He observed as she fumbled the first couple of steps until her entire body passed the orange barrier Hachi had on the entire building, her movements a little uncoordinated. Once she managed to open the door and step inside, he allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.
With a silent nod to himself, Shinji turned and began retracing his steps. He knew that tomorrow, Hiyori would likely pretend that nothing had happened, that she had handled everything perfectly on her own. And he would let her maintain that facade, because he understood that it was a part of who she was. As he walked through the quiet streets, his thoughts lingered on the complex dynamics of their relationship. Teasing and bickering aside, there existed a genuine bond, an unspoken understanding between them. He comprehended that this connection went beyond mere words. And while he would continue to poke and prod at her, he also knew that he would always be there to watch over her. As for any deeper feelings, he wasn't inclined to explore them tonight, especially when he anticipated a barrage of opinions from Lisa the moment he returned.
"Damn that four-eyed pervert," he muttered to himself, kicking a pebble along the street. "She should mind her own business and sort out her twisted thing with Rose."
Shinji's thoughts shifted to the other individuals who occupied his life, friends who had not-so-subtly urged him to confront his own feelings. Mashiro, with her childish, honest, and perceptive nature, Kensei, who always claimed to see through his facades, and even Kisuke, who had a knack for meddling in the affairs of others. Each of them had, in their own way, prodded him to acknowledge what was beneath the surface. But Hiyori was a force in her own right, a tempestuous whirlwind of contradictions that he had come to cherish. He couldn't shake the feeling that one day, when the time was right, he might just let down the guard he had so carefully built around his emotions too. But for now, he would let the night's events settle, and deal with whatever inevitable repercussions awaited him.
Author's Notes:
Hey there, just wanted to throw in a quick note. I might've given Shinji a bit of a mischievous streak in this one, but it's all just for fun, you know? Who knows how it'll all play out down the line.
Couple of things to keep in mind:
So, in Japan, folks gotta be 20 before they can legally hit the bottle.
Oh man, Lisa really let Shinji have it for a solid 45 minutes after that little stunt. She was like, "Come on, obviously she's gonna be ticked; you pulled that right in front of her to get a reaction!" Mashiro was just nodding along, totally on the same page.
I was itching to do a one-shot here, 'cause let's be real, I can sometimes struggle to tie up longer stories. But guess what? Chapter 2's already in the bag—just needs a bit of polishing before it's up for grabs.
As a guideline, I'm aiming to sync up with the song's vibe or what it's describing.
And quick heads-up: in my little world, Hiyori's just a pint-sized powerhouse. I mean, if you compare "Turn Back the Pendulum" with "Fake Karakura Town," you'll see she's grown, just not as tall as, say, Ichimaru or Akon. Blame the Hollow for that.
So, that's about it. If you've got any tips, tricks, or thoughts, feel free to drop 'em in the review box. Cheers!