Cutting hair was not a simple business as Chisaki thought. On the other hand, Tsumugu listened to Chisaki's lament. One step forward, two steps backward. There was still a long way to go.
It had already started unraveling, she noticed one day, as Chisaki faced the mirror to fix her hair with her favorite scrunchie of white petals. That day, tucking away the hair tie into the recesses of her drawer, she let down her waist-length hair, unornamented. That day, she also wondered if maybe she should trade her long hair for a shorter one.
That day, too, on the way back from visiting Grandpa Isamu, she made a side trip to the hair salon.
"Oh, dearie. You have such beautiful, thick hair. Are you sure you want to cut it?" The hair stylist was looking very much distressed for her sake and to prove her point, she picked at Chisaki's dark blue locks.
For a split second, Chisaki faltered. But she raised her chin, sucked in her breath, and with a glint of determination, met the hair stylist's eyes in the mirror. "Yes, please," she managed without her voice breaking and braved the ministrations of the haircutter and her shears.
A few days later, two faces surveyed each other at the Kihara entrance - one tall, dark-haired man of tanned skin, the other a shorter woman with midnight-blue, shoulder-length tresses and a fair complexion.
The man said, "I'm home, Chisaki."
Chisaki's face lit up. "Welcome home, Tsumugu," she greeted from the interior.
Chisaki stepped aside to allow Tsumugu and his duffel bag through and as soon as he was safely inside, she tugged on the sliding screen door, effectively shutting out the cold. When she turned her head, she was afforded a view of the back of Tsumugu's head. "Oh."
Tsumugu heard and twisted around to look at her.
"Tsumugu, did you cut your hair?"
Last time they laid eyes on each other was before he left for university and his hair was still brushing the collar of his shirts. Now, his hair was a fringe above the nape of his neck.
"Yeah. Just a trim." He lingered at the corridor, as if waiting for her cue.
"I see..." Chisaki's words were succeeded by a humid lull, as she curbed the urge to say more, even though she wanted very much to know why he did not wait to come home before having his haircut. After all, she had been the one doing it for him for the past four years. Instead, she cushioned her disappointment by moving along the conversation. "Are you hungry? Or do you want to bathe first before you eat dinner?"
"It's just like you," Tsumugu answered cryptically in between her string of words.
"I already prepared the bath, so I think you should clean up first. I'll reheat the food while- Huh?" Chisaki faded out all of a sudden.
"I'll take a bath first." Tsumugu hitched the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder and mounted the stairs to the second floor, leaving a nonplussed Chisaki at the bottom of the steps.
Chisaki sighed her defeat and rather than dwell on Tsumugu's enigmas, busied herself in the kitchen instead, taking out the food stored in the refrigerator to warm it up by fire. She was reaching out for the lacquerware stowed in the upper shelves when a maroon sleeve darted in front of her view and a brown hand seized the plates she was about to take.
Chisaki backed up, only to bump into a solid wall behind her. The solid wall was breathing. "Tsumugu!" Chisaki yelped when she peered to the side. "You surprised me!"
"I'll take these to the living room," offered Tsumugu, acting so naturally, arranging the dishes on a tray and carrying it out of the kitchen.
"O-okay." Chisaki responded unsmoothly, who, left with nothing to hold, followed after Tsumugu. She settled beside his table, observing him quietly while he took his meal. For some months now, Chisaki had been eating her meals alone, until she learned to adjust to cooking just for two, herself and Grandpa Isamu, who was in the hospital, until she remembered to quit expecting an answer to her calls of "I'm home", even if she still continued to do so out of habit, and until she got used to leaving only her sole set of imprints on the winding, snow-carpeted road coming and going from the house.
And yet, Tsumugu's sudden presence, his wet hair glistening in the weak, mute light, him sitting crosslegged in his pajamas and eating his meal peaceably at the table felt so natural too, as if the last few months of Chisaki's solitary living never happened at all.
As Tsumugu brought the bowl of soup to his mouth, his eyes flickered to her midway. "How's nursing school?"
Chisaki startled, reeling back to the present. She swept her hair behind her ear and smiled. "So far so good. I also have the nurses at the hospital to ask questions from. They've been very kind and supportive, especially after I told them I'm going to nursing school."
"That's nice to hear," commented Tsumugu, before he touched his lips to the bowl.
"And you? How are your oceanography studies going?"
"Well enough. I've been learning a lot since joining Professor Mihashi's lab in the university."
"Professor Mihashi? Ah, that professor you spoke of."
"Mmm." Tsumugu nodded in assent.
Chisaki's eyes fell on his empty rice bowl. "Another helping of rice?"
Tsumugu shook his head. "I'm done, thank you."
"Tea?" Chisaki asked as she reached for his tray, but Tsumugu caught her wrist, stopping her. Chisaki startled again.
"I'll wash the dishes."
Chisaki blinked once, twice, and then answered, "Okay."
Tsumugu removed his hand and added, "Afterwards, some amazake would be nice."
Chisaki's muscles went lax. She found her lips curling into another smile. "Okay," she repeated, this time, softly. Against her earlier conclusions, it also took some getting used to, apparently, fitting Tsumugu back into her life. However, the space he took up was like his room, consistently kept neat and tidy, its occupant only gone somewhere, but not indefinitely, a room that would always feel lived in.
Later that evening, when they each retired to their own rooms, Chisaki studied herself in the mirror, coming to a realization that Tsumugu did not mention anything about her own haircut. Along with this realization, a feeling welled up within that she could not exactly describe as disappointment, yet felt a little like it.
She tried to arrange her now shorter strands to her liking, but after much coaxing and teasing with the hairbrush, she bit the inside of her cheeks and wrinkled a dissatisfied brow. "Does it make me tooadult?" she thought aloud. She bounded towards her chest of drawers, pulling out one drawer at a time until she found her box of hair accessories. Her fingers skimmed the tip of her well-worn white scrunchie, the scrunchie that was one of her two reminders from Shioshishio. The other one was her white and blue sailor uniform from Nami Middle School. The uniform was hidden away from view, but she still wore the hair tie regularly, up until a few days ago. To her regret, it was now ruined beyond repair.
In the end, Chisaki settled for a white elastic band. She moved to stand by the mirror, gathered a few strands of hair, and began to fashion it into a braid. She stepped back from the mirror to admire her handiwork, though, again, she thought something was off.
Her eyes strayed back to her favorite white petals threaded with a sky-blue ribbon. She picked it up and looked closely at it. The ends were fraying, but the ribbon was still intact. Chisaki took the blue ribbon and wrapped it around the elastic band that held her braid. Now, she thought she had done just right. Not too adult nor too kiddish. It was just right.
The next morning, Chisaki was, without a doubt, disappointed that Tsumugu still did not mention anything even after the braid. Everybody else noticed and had something to say. When she went to Saya Mart for groceries, Akari complimented her on her lovely hairstyle, while little Akira, fisting her mother's shirt tightly, cooed, "Saki, Saki! Lovey, lovey!" in an attempt to mimic his mother. When Chisaki smiled at Akira, the toddler ducked behind Akari's legs, peeking abashed at Chisaki.
Shun Sayama, on the other hand, let out an appreciative wolf whistle and whooped, "Looking great, Ms. Hiradaira!" Then, he grinned teasingly. "Has Tsumugu told you how great you look? He's back in town, isn't he?"
"Yes," Chisaki murmured, her cheeks flushed.
Shun squinted at Chisaki, reading her face. "Is that a 'Yes, he's back in town' or 'Yes, he said you look great'?"
Chisaki's eyes shifted to the side. "Yes, he's back in town."
"Not one word of appreciation for the lonely housewife!" Shun moaned dramatically, slapping a hand to his temple. "That guy! I need to teach him a lesson on treating you well."
"Sayama-kun!" Chisaki rebuked. "What are you saying? I'm not...We aren't like that! And he always treats me well."
"Of course. I was only kidding!" Shun laughed heartily, his hands akimbo. Chisaki thumped on his arm to get him to stop, until he eventually did, for Chisaki really could deliver a wallop if she set her mind to it. Before Chisaki went, Shun opined, in a more serious manner, "But a little more honesty between you two would help, you know."
On her way to the hospital, Chisaki crossed paths with Miuna and Sayu, both of whom admired her long, flowing hair and felt remorse when they saw how she had trimmed it up to her shoulders.
"It's such a pity, Chisaki-san. You've been growing it out for a long time, but now it's so short," Miuna said with a rueful expression.
Chisaki chuckled. "Oh, it's not that short."
Sayu tsked, tsked disapprovingly. "Chisaki-san," she began, her tone despondent. "Didn't you know that a woman's hair is her life?"
Chisaki was taken aback. By cutting her hair, was she really cutting off a big part of her life? Did she want to? She was afraid of seeking the answer in the murky morasses of her heart and maybe it was best if she did not, for now. Just for now. So, she bestowed the two middle schoolers with a little smil
Cutting hair was not a simple business as Chisaki thought. On the other hand, Tsumugu listened to Chisaki's lament. One step forward, two steps backward. There was still a long way to go.
It had already started unraveling, she noticed one day, as Chisaki faced the mirror to fix her hair with her favorite scrunchie of white petals. That day, tucking away the hair tie into the recesses of her drawer, she let down her waist-length hair, unornamented. That day, she also wondered if maybe she should trade her long hair for a shorter one.
That day, too, on the way back from visiting Grandpa Isamu, she made a side trip to the hair salon.
"Oh, dearie. You have such beautiful, thick hair. Are you sure you want to cut it?" The hair stylist was looking very much distressed for her sake and to prove her point, she picked at Chisaki's dark blue locks.
For a split second, Chisaki faltered. But she raised her chin, sucked in her breath, and with a glint of determination, met the hair stylist's eyes in the mirror. "Yes, please," she managed without her voice breaking and braved the ministrations of the haircutter and her shears.
A few days later, two faces surveyed each other at the Kihara entrance - one tall, dark-haired man of tanned skin, the other a shorter woman with midnight-blue, shoulder-length tresses and a fair complexion.
The man said, "I'm home, Chisaki."
Chisaki's face lit up. "Welcome home, Tsumugu," she greeted from the interior.
Chisaki stepped aside to allow Tsumugu and his duffel bag through and as soon as he was safely inside, she tugged on the sliding screen door, effectively shutting out the cold. When she turned her head, she was afforded a view of the back of Tsumugu's head. "Oh."
Tsumugu heard and twisted around to look at her.
"Tsumugu, did you cut your hair?"
Last time they laid eyes on each other was before he left for university and his hair was still brushing the collar of his shirts. Now, his hair was a fringe above the nape of his neck.
"Yeah. Just a trim." He lingered at the corridor, as if waiting for her cue.
"I see..." Chisaki's words were succeeded by a humid lull, as she curbed the urge to say more, even though she wanted very much to know why he did not wait to come home before having his haircut. After all, she had been the one doing it for him for the past four years. Instead, she cushioned her disappointment by moving along the conversation. "Are you hungry? Or do you want to bathe first before you eat dinner?"
"It's just like you," Tsumugu answered cryptically in between her string of words.
"I already prepared the bath, so I think you should clean up first. I'll reheat the food while- Huh?" Chisaki faded out all of a sudden.
"I'll take a bath first." Tsumugu hitched the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder and mounted the stairs to the second floor, leaving a nonplussed Chisaki at the bottom of the steps.
Chisaki sighed her defeat and rather than dwell on Tsumugu's enigmas, busied herself in the kitchen instead, taking out the food stored in the refrigerator to warm it up by fire. She was reaching out for the lacquerware stowed in the upper shelves when a maroon sleeve darted in front of her view and a brown hand seized the plates she was about to take.
Chisaki backed up, only to bump into a solid wall behind her. The solid wall was breathing. "Tsumugu!" Chisaki yelped when she peered to the side. "You surprised me!"
"I'll take these to the living room," offered Tsumugu, acting so naturally, arranging the dishes on a tray and carrying it out of the kitchen.
"O-okay." Chisaki responded unsmoothly, who, left with nothing to hold, followed after Tsumugu. She settled beside his table, observing him quietly while he took his meal. For some months now, Chisaki had been eating her meals alone, until she learned to adjust to cooking just for two, herself and Grandpa Isamu, who was in the hospital, until she remembered to quit expecting an answer to her calls of "I'm home", even if she still continued to do so out of habit, and until she got used to leaving only her sole set of imprints on the winding, snow-carpeted road coming and going from the house.
And yet, Tsumugu's sudden presence, his wet hair glistening in the weak, mute light, him sitting crosslegged in his pajamas and eating his meal peaceably at the table felt so natural too, as if the last few months of Chisaki's solitary living never happened at all.
As Tsumugu brought the bowl of soup to his mouth, his eyes flickered to her midway. "How's nursing school?"
Chisaki startled, reeling back to the present. She swept her hair behind her ear and smiled. "So far so good. I also have the nurses at the hospital to ask questions from. They've been very kind and supportive, especially after I told them I'm going to nursing school."
"That's nice to hear," commented Tsumugu, before he touched his lips to the bowl.
"And you? How are your oceanography studies going?"
"Well enough. I've been learning a lot since joining Professor Mihashi's lab in the university."
"Professor Mihashi? Ah, that professor you spoke of."
"Mmm." Tsumugu nodded in assent.
Chisaki's eyes fell on his empty rice bowl. "Another helping of rice?"
Tsumugu shook his head. "I'm done, thank you."
"Tea?" Chisaki asked as she reached for his tray, but Tsumugu caught her wrist, stopping her. Chisaki startled again.
"I'll wash the dishes."
Chisaki blinked once, twice, and then answered, "Okay."
Tsumugu removed his hand and added, "Afterwards, some amazake would be nice."
Chisaki's muscles went lax. She found her lips curling into another smile. "Okay," she repeated, this time, softly. Against her earlier conclusions, it also took some getting used to, apparently, fitting Tsumugu back into her life. However, the space he took up was like his room, consistently kept neat and tidy, its occupant only gone somewhere, but not indefinitely, a room that would always feel lived in.
Later that evening, when they each retired to their own rooms, Chisaki studied herself in the mirror, coming to a realization that Tsumugu did not mention anything about her own haircut. Along with this realization, a feeling welled up within that she could not exactly describe as disappointment, yet felt a little like it.
She tried to arrange her now shorter strands to her liking, but after much coaxing and teasing with the hairbrush, she bit the inside of her cheeks and wrinkled a dissatisfied brow. "Does it make me tooadult?" she thought aloud. She bounded towards her chest of drawers, pulling out one drawer at a time until she found her box of hair accessories. Her fingers skimmed the tip of her well-worn white scrunchie, the scrunchie that was one of her two reminders from Shioshishio. The other one was her white and blue sailor uniform from Nami Middle School. The uniform was hidden away from view, but she still wore the hair tie regularly, up until a few days ago. To her regret, it was now ruined beyond repair.
In the end, Chisaki settled for a white elastic band. She moved to stand by the mirror, gathered a few strands of hair, and began to fashion it into a braid. She stepped back from the mirror to admire her handiwork, though, again, she thought something was off.
Her eyes strayed back to her favorite white petals threaded with a sky-blue ribbon. She picked it up and looked closely at it. The ends were fraying, but the ribbon was still intact. Chisaki took the blue ribbon and wrapped it around the elastic band that held her braid. Now, she thought she had done just right. Not too adult nor too kiddish. It was just right.
The next morning, Chisaki was, without a doubt, disappointed that Tsumugu still did not mention anything even after the braid. Everybody else noticed and had something to say. When she went to Saya Mart for groceries, Akari complimented her on her lovely hairstyle, while little Akira, fisting her mother's shirt tightly, cooed, "Saki, Saki! Lovey, lovey!" in an attempt to mimic his mother. When Chisaki smiled at Akira, the toddler ducked behind Akari's legs, peeking abashed at Chisaki.
Shun Sayama, on the other hand, let out an appreciative wolf whistle and whooped, "Looking great, Ms. Hiradaira!" Then, he grinned teasingly. "Has Tsumugu told you how great you look? He's back in town, isn't he?"
"Yes," Chisaki murmured, her cheeks flushed.
Shun squinted at Chisaki, reading her face. "Is that a 'Yes, he's back in town' or 'Yes, he said you look great'?"
Chisaki's eyes shifted to the side. "Yes, he's back in town."
"Not one word of appreciation for the lonely housewife!" Shun moaned dramatically, slapping a hand to his temple. "That guy! I need to teach him a lesson on treating you well."
"Sayama-kun!" Chisaki rebuked. "What are you saying? I'm not...We aren't like that! And he always treats me well."
"Of course. I was only kidding!" Shun laughed heartily, his hands akimbo. Chisaki thumped on his arm to get him to stop, until he eventually did, for Chisaki really could deliver a wallop if she set her mind to it. Before Chisaki went, Shun opined, in a more serious manner, "But a little more honesty between you two would help, you know."
On her way to the hospital, Chisaki crossed paths with Miuna and Sayu, both of whom admired her long, flowing hair and felt remorse when they saw how she had trimmed it up to her shoulders.
"It's such a pity, Chisaki-san. You've been growing it out for a long time, but now it's so short," Miuna said with a rueful expression.
Chisaki chuckled. "Oh, it's not that short."
Sayu tsked, tsked disapprovingly. "Chisaki-san," she began, her tone despondent. "Didn't you know that a woman's hair is her life?"
Chisaki was taken aback. By cutting her hair, was she really cutting off a big part of her life? Did she want to? She was afraid of seeking the answer in the murky morasses of her heart and maybe it was best if she did not, for now. Just for now. So, she bestowed the two middle schoolers with a little smil
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