It’s Calling You (You Don’t Believe)

400 words :: Bleach :: Shinji/Hiyori :: 4/26/10
She’s lucky, she knows. Lucky to be short, to be baby-faced. She just looks like any other scrawny, flat-chested girl.


It catches in the back of her throat and makes her gag, but she gets it down eventually.

“You’re supposed to take those with the water,” Shinji says, laughing.

“I know that!” she snaps, glaring at him. She gulps down the water, but it doesn’t wash away the bitter aftertaste.

Stupid Shinji. Stupid pill.

But still, she feels lighter somehow, so instead of throwing the glass at his head, she just punches him. It doesn’t wipe the stupid smile off his face, but she doesn’t really mind.

He’s still grinning when he kisses her, but she doesn’t mind that, either.


She doesn’t tell anyone else. It’s not like it’s a big deal, not after all this time, and they’ve only ever known her as Hiyori.

She’s lucky, she knows. Lucky to be short, to be baby-faced. She just looks like any other scrawny, flat-chested girl.

No one questioned her in Soul Society and no one questions her down here, so maybe it’s stupid to even bother.

It doesn’t matter, she tells herself. It doesn’t matter, she tells Shinji, so she won’t be disappointed if these human pills don’t work.

She is not getting her hopes up. She is not nervous.


She gets used to the pills quickly, no more coughing or nasty taste on her tongue, but the changes are slower.

It’s the tenderness she notices first. Sometimes just moving makes her gasp, her t-shirt almost painful against her nipples.

She still can’t see a difference when she looks in the mirror, but Shinji stands behind her, runs his hands up her ribs and over her chest, and lifts her hand so she can feel, too.

She can’t remember the last time she touched herself like this, but there is a slight swelling under her fingers and Shinji says, “See?”


Now they hang down a little when she is on her hands and knees and Shinji is stretched out over her, and when he reaches up and palms her breast, his hand curves around it instead of lying flat against her chest. He squeezes, sending a shiver up her spine, and she inhales sharply.

Now she can see them, even with a shirt on. She is still a scrawny, flat-chested girl, but they are there and they are hers. It will be a while before they are visible under her jersey, but she is letting herself hope, just a little.