Hirako Shinji Imagine - Blog Posts
𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢, 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐨 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐬 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢’𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫…
➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Shuhei Hisagi, Hirako Shinji, Kurosaki Ichigo
➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: Hello !! I hope you’re having a wonderful day (⌒‿⌒) may I request headcanons of Shuhei, Yumichika, and Shinji with an s/o that’s Kenpachi’s daughter? Maybe with some gap moe where she has a similar aggressive fighting style as Kenpachi then is very sweet and happy-go-lucky (like Yachiru!!)
➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: I just love how all the Captains are getting a chance to have a daughter who practically scares all the other subordinates >.< Since I don’t write for Yumichika, I swapped him with Ichigo (cuz it’s also fun giving him stress with anything Kenpachi) Thanks for thr request!!
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Shuhei Hisagi
˚₊‧꒰ა Hisagi had absolutely not a clue you were Zaraki’s daughter the first time he met you, he just knew there was something crazy, dangerous and magnetic about you, and he really shouldn’t be drawn to but absolutely was.
˚₊‧꒰ა You caught him staring when you passed him in the Seireitei gardens and shot him a grin that showed slightly too sharp teeth and zero shame, sending his brain somewhere north of useless.
˚₊‧꒰ა When he finally learned who your father was, it was from Ikkaku, who very kindly slapped the back of Hisagi’s head and muttered, “Oi, you’re sniffin’ round Zaraki’s kid, mate. Best have a bloody will ready.”
˚₊‧꒰ა That was the moment he immediately considered getting his affairs in order but realised he’d rather die than give up a chance to be near you.
˚₊‧꒰ა The first date was a mess, and he still got dragged into it; you insisted on sparring for fun, and the two of you ended up in a crumbling training yard, bruised and laughing
˚₊‧꒰ა “You know,” you called, wiping some dirt from your cheek with the back of your hand, “if you’re gonna fall for me, you better keep up.”
˚₊‧꒰ა He found it absolutely thrilling that you thought fighting was flirting and somehow adapted faster than anyone expected, even you
˚₊‧꒰ა You stole his sake once during a late night drinking session at his division and refused to give it back unless he could wrestle it off you; you won, and he still claims he let you.
˚₊‧꒰ა Other times, he would wake up to find you sprawled across his bed, limbs thrown wide like you owned it, his uniform shirt hanging off one shoulder because you tore it sometime during the night.
˚₊‧꒰ა You teased him mercilessly about his tattoo, asking if you could give him a few more “battle marks” of your own and then cackled when he flushed when you dragged your fingers halfway down his chest to show where you want to plant them.
˚₊‧꒰ა Hisagi got on surprisingly well with your father, mostly because he treated Zaraki with open respect and absolutely no grovelling fear, though he was definitely one wrong word away from getting flattened most days.
˚₊‧꒰ა “Tch. If ya hurt her, kid,” Zaraki grunted once, massive hand clapping Hisagi’s shoulder so hard he nearly face-planted, “I’ll pull yer guts out through yer nostrils.”
˚₊‧꒰ა You found it hilarious and made a point of hanging off Hisagi’s shoulders, legs wrapped round his waist, kissing him stupid in public, daring anyone to comment.
˚₊‧꒰ა He loved it when you crashed his office, flopping onto his paperwork with a loud “I’m bored. I want to be entertained,” and he pretended to be exasperated but dropped everything within minutes to curl up beside you which eventually leads to a wrestling match and a power nap.
˚₊‧꒰ა There were times he secretly enjoyed being dragged into ridiculous Zaraki family outings, like ‘friendly’ brawls, Hollow hunting, and one memorably awful camping trip where you tried (and failed) to cook a rabbit over open flame.
˚₊‧꒰ა “What are you going to do without me,” he laughed, poking your burnt rabbit corpse with a stick while you scowled.
˚₊‧꒰ა If he ever got a bad nightmare, you were both the type to pretend it didn’t happen, tangled together under thin sheets, breath evening out in the small hours without a word.
˚₊‧꒰ა You taught him how to sharpen his instincts beyond textbook fighting, how to smell blood on the wind, how to listen for the wrong kind of silence, and he taught you how to steady your rage before it burnt you alive.
˚₊‧꒰ა He wouldn’t say a word about this, but he has a secret tattoo of your name inked small and low on his hipbone where nobody would ever see unless you peeled him out of his uniform yourself.
˚₊‧꒰ა “Only person I ever wanted to be reckless for,” he muttered once against your collarbone after a near-death mission, voice rough with something he refused to call love but was anyway.
Hirako Shinji
˚₊‧꒰ა Shinji spotted you once tearing through a group of low-ranked thugs in the Rukongai with a huge grin on your face and thought, Well, there goes my bloody sanity.
˚₊‧꒰ა You met properly when you were assigned as a temporary reinforcement to the Visoreds for a Hollow hunt, and Shinji spent the entire briefing pointedly not staring at the way your hips moved each time you walked, because, “My eyed were glued to your zanpakuto.”
˚₊‧꒰ა After you almost sliced a Hollow clean in half while flipping over its back like it was a plaything, Shinji sidled up next to you, hands in his pockets, lazy grin in place, and said, “Oi, yer dad teach ya that, or are you just naturally mental?”
˚₊‧꒰ა Shinji knew you were Zaraki’s kiddo before you even opened your mouth; it was in the swagger, the craze in your eyes, the grin that promised chaos.
˚₊‧꒰ა First date was not so much a date as it was Shinji daring you to join him for sake and terrible karaoke in some dive bar on the far side of the Seireitei. You had stole the microphone halfway through and belted out a foul-mouthed drinking song so gloriously badly that Shinji damn near proposed on the spot.
˚₊‧꒰ა “Yer a bloody nightmare,” he told you later, arm slung round your shoulders, dragging you close enough to smell the cheap alcohol on his breath, “and I’m already in too deep.”
˚₊‧꒰ა You sparred constantly, usually ending with you pinning him or he pinning you, both of you panting and laughing and occasionally snogging against the ground until someone threw a sandal at your heads.
˚₊‧꒰ა Zaraki didn’t hate Shinji, which was about the highest praise Shinji could’ve asked for, even though your father muttered things like, “At least the tosser’s got some teeth,”
˚₊‧꒰ა “If he so much as makes ya cry, girl,” Zaraki warned once, cracking his knuckles loudly enough to make the table rattle, “I’ll break every bleedin’ rib in his body.”
˚₊‧꒰ა You delighted in testing Shinji’s patience, picking fights with him in the middle of Division meetings, stealing his captain’s haori and wearing it as a dress, sneaking sake into his paperwork stacks.
˚₊‧꒰ა “Oi, love,” he drawled once when he caught you sneaking through his window at midnight, “you come here to kill me or kiss me?”
˚₊‧꒰ა Shinji was a sucker for your wild, reckless laughter, the way you treated every battle like a bloody dance floor, the way you made the world feel sharp and electric again.
˚₊‧꒰ა He let you crash at his place whenever you wanted, sprawling across his bed like a queen, yelling at him to bring snacks and sake as if you owned the place, which, honestly, you kind of did.
˚₊‧꒰ა You once dyed his hair pink as a prank while he was asleep; he wore it for three days just to piss off everyone at the Captain’s meetings and you laughed so hard you cried.
˚₊‧꒰ა “Don’t threaten me with a good time, love,” he grinned when you teased him about being whipped, dragging you into his lap with no effort at all.
˚₊‧꒰ა You’d drag him to family dinners with Zaraki and Yachiru where someone usually bled before dessert; and he never complained once, even when he lost three teeth once from a ‘friendly’ brawl.
˚₊‧꒰ა You once dared Shinji to fight you with one hand tied behind his back; he won, but only because he cheated and used his mouth to pin your wrist to the floor.
˚₊‧꒰ა “You’re bloody trouble,” he whispered into your hair once, after dragging you laughing into bed after a fight, “and I’m the idiot who loves it.”
Kurosaki Ichigo
˚₊‧꒰ა When this little strawberry found out who your dad was after you’d already knocked him flat during a training match, it made the whole situation even worse, because now he had bruises and the mental image of Zaraki’s murderous glare burning holes in his back.
˚₊‧꒰ა “Wait! Zaraki’s your dad?! Seriously?! That’s...that’s not even fair,” Ichigo groaned, rubbing his ribs while you leaned smugly on your sword.
˚₊‧꒰ა You just grinned and replied, “If you’re gonna date me, you’d better stop whining and fight harder, Kurosaki.”
˚₊‧꒰ა Ichigo thought dating you was going to be exhausting, and he was completely right, but he also never had more fun in his life.
˚₊‧꒰ა You dragged him headfirst into chaos on the regular—training in the middle of the night, brawls in underground rings, Hollow bait missions you definitely weren’t authorised to take part in.
˚₊‧꒰ა He’d show up late home with a busted lip and grass in his hair, muttering, “Don’t ask,” while you stood behind him looking smug and completely unbothered.
˚₊‧꒰ა “Your old man hates me,” he muttered after the third time Zaraki cracked his knuckles at him in the hallway; you just shrugged and said, “He hates everyone.”
˚₊‧꒰ა He (once) tried to kiss you in the hallway before a mission. Zaraki walked past, snorted like a bull, and Ichigo very calmly walked into a wall.
˚₊‧꒰ა You thought it was adorable how flustered he got around your family, especially since he could slice through a Menos like butter but couldn’t make eye contact with your dad for more than three seconds.
˚₊‧꒰ა “You alright there, Kurosaki?” you asked sweetly, resting your chin on his shoulder during dinner while Zaraki loomed five feet away, ready to challenge him to a duel.
˚₊‧꒰ა You once kicked him through a wall during a spar and offered him a hand while laughing, “You done being a wimp yet?” and he grabbed it, grumbling, “Hell no.”
˚₊‧꒰ა He never got used to how casual you were about injuries, like returning from missions covered in blood and saying, “It’s not mine” while stealing his rice.
˚₊‧꒰ა At least he was always there to patch up your wounds even when you insisted you were fine, muttering, “Stop moving, idiot, or I’m tying you down,” and you grinned because you knew he meant it.
˚₊‧꒰ა He once snuck into your room to surprise you and ended up on the business end of your zanpakuto because you were half-asleep and reacted on instinct.
˚₊‧꒰ა “Next time,” you mumbled, sheathing the blade, “knock first or I’ll carve your name into my wall with your blood.”
˚₊‧꒰ა Like typical guys, he secretly liked when you wore his black undershirt post-battle, even though it was way too long on you and covered in dust, because it meant you were still breathing.
˚₊‧꒰ა He respected the hell out of your strength but never tried to compete with it—he wasn’t interested in being stronger than you, only in being strong with you.
˚₊‧꒰ა Despite being constantly stressed around your dad, Ichigo somehow earned Zaraki’s grudging approval by throwing himself in front of you during a mission once and almost getting crushed for it.
˚₊‧꒰ა “Tch,” Zaraki said after dragging him out of the dirt, “Ya might be an idiot, but you’re a tough one. Don’t died cuz we still gotta fight later.”
˚₊‧꒰ა You always made Ichigo feel like the world was on fire, but in a way that made him want to run toward the flames instead of away from them.
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @stygianoir @spellboundsuguru @cactimorada @cookielovesbook-akie @kennys-partner @sovl-society @villainsrtasty @foxycrafterofgreenwood @carnationdoe @darthwhorecrux
©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.
𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬
➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Kuchiki Byakuya, Hirako Shinji, Kyoraku Shunsui, Ukitake Jushiro
➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: Hello, sis! I really, reallly, love your headcanons! Would you like to do a hc about reader who's very insecure about themselves or dealing with self-esteem issues? The characters could be Jushiro, Shunsui, Shinji, and Byakuya. You can add any character you want. I hope you accept it, if it's fine with you. Thank you!🥰
➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: Thank you for this request, anon. This one felt close to home. Hope it doesn’t sound too personal 😅. But enjoy!
➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: When they guide you through your stage of insecurity and low self-esteem (like the sweet lovers they are)
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Kuchiki Byakuya
✧ Never one for coddling, but the moment he started noticing your discomfort with yourself, he began paying more attention than you'd realise. He’d catch you looking at your reflection too long with a strange look on your face, like you were trying to find something worth liking. He never brought it up directly, but he observed it in silence.
✧ You’d try to brush off compliments with a shrug or awkward laugh, and he’d tilt his head slightly, eyebrows drawing together. The next time, he’d say something simple and specific, like, “Your posture improved. It suits you.” Not said for flattery, but because it was fact, and he knew you’d believe facts over sweet nothings.
✧ He started saying things in passing like, “That colour enhances your complexion,” or “You speak clearly. People listen.” Always subtle and neutral. But there was no mistaking the intention behind it. He was planting seeds of positivity.
✧ Once, you called yourself useless during training after missing a block. Byakuya didn’t hesitate. “You are not. Do not waste my time by speaking falsehoods.” The way he said it made you stop mid-apology. “Correct yourself and try again,” he added, but it wasn’t harsh. It was almost...grounding.
✧ He’d sit beside you in silence sometimes, just so you wouldn’t be alone with your thoughts too long. You weren’t even sure he noticed the patterns, but then he handed you a book he’d chosen without asking. It had notes in the margins. Thoughtful ones. That kind of intimacy from Byakuya said everything.
✧ When you tried to downplay your efforts during a mission, he would say without looking up, “Mediocrity does not draw my attention. You should be aware of that by now.” And when you glanced up, unsure if it was a rebuke or a compliment, he flicked his eyes to you and added, “I meant it as praise. Accept it.”
✧ He didn’t indulge self-deprecation. “If you insist on belittling yourself, I cannot assist you. I work with those who see their worth, or at least wish to.” And somehow, that stung more than any pity would have.
✧ But he began requesting your opinion more often. Not just to be kind, but because he valued it, and he wanted you to know he did. “You see things others overlook,” he said once, when you pointed out a pattern in enemy movement others missed. “That is not a common trait.”
✧ During a rare evening walk, you admitted in a quiet voice that you didn’t see anything impressive in yourself. He stopped, looked down at you, and simply asked, “Do you believe I waste time?” You frowned, shook your head. “Then accept that I choose to be here. With you. For a reason.”
✧ The way he spoke your name shifted. Firmer, less formal, almost like grounding you. If you drifted into self-hate, he’d say your name like an anchor, a reminder. Not of what you were to him, but who you were.
✧ He started correcting others when they praised you too little. “They completed the task efficiently,” someone would say. Byakuya would reply coolly, “They completed the task brilliantly. Do not diminish that.”
✧ Once, you were picking at your sleeves, eyes low after a particularly bad day, and he said quietly, “You are permitted to falter. But you are not permitted to lie about your value.”
✧ He didn’t flood you with affection or comfort. He redefined your reality through steady correction, unwavering acknowledgement, and making it known that weakness was not something to be ashamed of—but false humility was.
✧ He taught you kido techniques slowly, patiently, never rushing, and never once expressing frustration. “You will learn. You do not lack capacity—only belief.”
✧ When you thanked him too meekly, he looked at you and said flatly, “Do not thank me as though it is undeserved. You earn what I give.”
✧ Sometimes, he sat beside you and just existed there. No speeches. No guidance. Just quiet presence that said, I see you. You’re enough, even when you don’t see it yourself.
Hirako Shinji
✧ Shinji had clocked how you laughed off compliments and made excuses when praised. The kind of thing you thought you were hiding well, but his perceptiveness cut right through the act.
✧ “You’ve got this weird habit of shrinking into yourself when someone says something nice,” he pointed out with that easy grin. “You allergic to compliments or just not used to ‘em?”
✧ He teased you at first, lightly, trying to draw you out of your shell. “C’mon, don’t give me that face. You look like someone just insulted your cooking, and all I said was your outfit suits you.”
✧ He started making you stand in front of the mirror sometimes while standing behind you, arms crossed, saying things like, “Look at that. That’s someone who’s survived Hollow attacks, dealt with Mayuri without losing their sanity, and still has all their limbs. That ain’t nothing.”
✧ Shinji made sure you knew that your mind was sharp. When you doubted your ideas, he’d interrupt mid-thought with, “No, no, don’t walk it back. That was a good plan. Stick with it.” He hated seeing you second-guess yourself and he always called it out.
✧ Once, you called yourself a burden and he turned to you with this incredulous look. “You serious right now? You think I’d drag dead weight around Soul Society for fun? Nah. You’re carrying more than you realise.”
✧ He wasn’t the soft, sappy type—but he did know when to lower his voice and level with you. “I’ve seen a lotta people. Been through too many wars. If you were weak, I’d know it. You’re not.”
✧ When you were spiralling, his approach was to snap you out of it with something sharp. “Stop it. That voice in your head’s lying to you. And you’re letting it. Don’t give it that kind of power.”
✧ Made a habit of pointing out the little things you did well. “You always catch details. I missed that Hollow’s movement pattern, and you didn’t. I owe you a drink.”
✧ When you couldn’t sleep and admitted it was because your brain wouldn’t shut up, he started showing up at night, leaning against your doorframe, tossing you a cushion. “Come sit with me. We’ll talk nonsense until your brain forgets it’s trying to kill you.”
✧ He’d interrupt your self-deprecating thoughts before they even finished. “Don’t even start. I see that look on your face. You’re better than you think, alright? I’m not gonna let you pretend otherwise.”
✧ One day, he found you tearing yourself down over a small mistake. He sat down beside you and said, quieter this time, “You ever notice how hard you are on yourself? Like you think being perfect is the only way you’re worth something?”
✧ “Lemme tell you something. I’ve made way worse mistakes. You don’t see me quitting, do ya? You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to be real. And you already are.”
✧ He kept you grounded with humour too. If you got too in your head, he’d say something ridiculous like, “Alright, if you don’t start talking about yourself like you’re at least mildly impressive, I’m gonna list every dumb thing I’ve done until you’re too embarrassed to wallow.”
✧ He gave you nicknames based on your strengths. Called you “Hawk-eyes” after you spotted a Hollow nest no one else did. “See?” he said, grin widening. “Told you your instincts are better than mine.”
✧ Shinji didn’t let people talk down to you either. If someone undercut you in conversation, he’d casually step in with a, “Actually, that was their idea. Don’t take credit where it ain’t due.”
✧ He didn’t believe in fixing you. He believed in reminding you that you weren’t broken. “You’ve got cracks. Big deal. That’s where the good stuff leaks out.”
✧ The way he looked at you changed when you started believing him, even just a little. Like he saw the fog clearing. “There you go,” he said once, after you stood up for yourself. “That’s the version of you I see every day.”
✧ And when you relapsed into old thoughts, because it happened sometimes, he didn’t get annoyed. He just said, “You don’t have to climb the mountain every day. Some days, just standing on the path’s enough.”
✧ Shinji never expected you to love yourself overnight. He was just the constant voice that didn’t waver, didn’t falter, didn’t let you sink too deep. Because if you couldn’t see your worth yet, he’d lend you his eyes till you could.
Kyoraku Shunsui
✧ He had a lazy air about him, sure, but nothing slipped past him when it came to the people he cared about. The way your eyes dropped when someone complimented you, how you’d wave off any praise like it didn’t belong to you—it didn’t sit right with him.
✧ He’d lean over when he caught you doing it again and mutter with a smile, “You really gotta stop treating kindness like it’s a mistake. We say nice things ‘cause they’re true, sweetheart.”
✧ Whenever you tried to minimise your accomplishments, Shunsui didn’t argue. He’d just look at you over the brim of his hat and say, “You know, if you keep brushing off all the good things about you, I’m gonna start thinking you’re talking about someone else.”
✧ He wasn’t confrontational about it, but he was persistent. If you mumbled something self-deprecating, he’d tilt his head and go, “What was that? Didn’t quite catch that nonsense.” And then wink, as if daring you to repeat it. You never did.
✧ Shunsui made sure others didn’t speak over you. If someone tried, he’d casually raise a hand and say, “Hold on, I think what they were saying was far more interesting.” You never knew how to respond when he did that, but he’d just smile and go back to sipping his sake like it was nothing.
✧ You’d find him laying around in your space more often than not. He’d say, “You looked like you could use the company,” as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And it felt natural with him—unpressured, calm, like maybe you didn’t have to pretend to be someone stronger.
✧ “You ever think maybe the way you see yourself ain’t the way the rest of us do?” he asked once, when you were sitting in silence too long, face drawn. “’Cause from where I’m sitting, you’ve got more strength than you give yourself credit for.”
✧ He never made it a lecture. It was always wrapped in comfort, humour, and that soft drawl that made you listen even when you didn’t mean to. “I know how heavy that inner critic can get. I’ve got one too—drinks too much and never shuts up.”
✧ When you apologised too often, he gently waved you off with a lazy smile. “If you apologise one more time for existing, I’m gonna start charging you. You’re allowed to take up space, love.”
✧ Shunsui had this way of reframing your insecurities into something empowering. “So you’re quiet? Means you’re a thinker. You doubt yourself? Means you care enough to get it right.”
✧ He never pressured you to believe him right away. “Takes time to unlearn the bad voices,” he said once, handing you a drink. “Until then, I’ll just keep reminding you that mine’s one of the good ones.”
✧ When you admitted you didn’t see anything worthwhile in yourself, he didn’t respond right away. Just stared at you for a moment, a rare seriousness settling over him. Then he said softly, “You ever wonder why I spend so much time here? It’s not ‘cause I’m bored, you know.”
✧ He kept things light when you needed distraction. If you were spiralling, he’d casually throw his arm over your shoulder and say, “C’mon. Let’s go somewhere you can remember you’re human and not a list of faults.”
✧ But when things got heavy, he didn’t retreat. He sat with you through the storm. No false reassurances, just quiet presence, maybe a hand in yours. Maybe just silence. But always there.
✧ And when you started believing in yourself a little more, you’d find him smiling more too. “See?” he said once, when you held your head a little higher. “Told you. You’re more than enough.”
✧ He never made you feel like a project. He made you feel like a person worth sticking around for, even when you weren’t sure why.
Ukitake Jushiro
✧ He was kind in the way a quiet river is kind—constant, deep, never pushing too hard but always moving. He noticed your insecurities in the smallest things—the way you avoided photos, how you apologised for asking questions, the way you laughed when you were uncomfortable.
✧ He never interrupted you when you put yourself down. He’d wait till you were done, then say, “I think you’re being unfair to someone I care about.” Just soft enough to make it sting in the right way.
✧ Count on him to never be blunt, but he was honest. “You’re harder on yourself than anyone else could ever be,” he said once. “And if someone else said the things you say to yourself, I’d ask them to leave.”
✧ He’d take your hand during quiet moments and trace little circles over your knuckles while talking about absolutely anything—tea, missions, weather—until your breathing slowed. His way of anchoring you without making a fuss.
✧ When you doubted your value, he reminded you with facts. “You saved that squad last week. You’re here, still standing, when others might’ve fallen. That means something.”
✧ Jushiro never let you dismiss your contributions. “You made a difference. You always do. Just because you don’t see it doesn’t make it any less true.”
✧ If you tried to apologise for not being good enough, he’d cut in gently, “You don’t have to apologise for being human. You’re allowed to have moments. You’re allowed to need reassurance.”
✧ He kept a calm kind of confidence in you. “I believe in your strength,” he said simply one day, when you were doubting your worth. “Even when you can’t.”
✧ When you felt unworthy of his presence, he took your hand, placed it over his chest, and said, “This heart has stood through a thousand years of war. And it still feels lighter when you’re near.”
✧ Has a talent for making you feel safe even in your most vulnerable moments. He never rushed you out of them, just stayed.
✧ He encouraged you through action more than words. He let you lead small team assignments, made space for your decisions, and when things went well, he’d smile and say, “I knew you’d handle it. I trusted you to.”
✧ The day you broke down, whispering that you didn’t see anything worth holding onto in yourself, he held you like you were made of glass and said into your hair, “Then I’ll hold on for the both of us. Until you can.”
✧ He left you notes sometimes. Folded neatly. Just lines like: You did well today. I hope you see that too. Or Your presence makes the Seireitei a better place.
✧ He never told you to stop feeling what you felt. He just helped you carry it. “Let’s carry it together,” he said once, after a particularly rough week. “You shouldn’t have to bear all that weight alone.”
✧ He never allowed your pain to feel like an inconvenience. He made it feel like something sacred—something he wanted to understand, not fix or brush away.
✧ And when you began healing, he noticed. “There’s light in your eyes again,” he said quietly one evening. “I missed that.”
✧ Being with him didn’t make you suddenly love yourself. And it made it harder to hate yourself.
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