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He felt the scissors wrench out of his hands against his own will, falling to the counter with a clatter. He didn’t see where they fell, all he could focus on was his wrist, no longer his own, falling back to his side without his command. There was silence, just for a moment. Nothing. No explanation of what had happened. “...Have I disappointed you, Sister?”
“No, dear, sweet Korekiyo,” he could feel himself speaking, even see his painted lips moving in the mirror ahead of him, but the voice that echoed off the walls wasn’t his. He was alone in the bathroom, but not really. “I’m afraid I’m not satisfied with the length of our hair, though. You won’t be cutting it today. It’s only fair that I get some control over this body’s appearance, since you couldn’t take care of me well enough to keep mine alive, isn’t it?”
Korekiyo felt his heart twist, just for a moment. He had already agreed to the makeup, but his hair simply wasn’t manageable any longer than this… still, though, it was his fault that she was dead. The love of his life, left to rot under the ground, only to be stuck with a body that was not her own... he couldn’t help but feel guilty. There had to be some way he could have done better. For them. For her. It hurt him just thinking about it, and the young man felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. “Yes. My apologies, Sister, you’re right, I do not understand how I could be so selfish at a time like this…”
“Do not cry,” his own hand raised, against his will, to rest on his cheek. “You may always redeem yourself…”
Korekiyo woke up in a cold sweat, a thorough uneasiness pushing an almost electric current through his skin. His face was freezing- where was his mask? He remembered having it in the bathroom, he was wearing it just moments ago. Shaking, he propped himself up on his elbows, sinking into the soft bed below him. The bed? He glanced down, and once his eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, he found himself no longer in the bathroom. He realized that he wasn’t even in that building anymore, he was here, in his new home, with his partner sleeping soundly beside him. Korekiyo was relieved that he didn’t wake him, but at the same time, the general discomfort that hung around him didn’t feel like it was going to go away anytime soon.
Fumbling with the bedside table beside him for a moment, he grasped around in the dark for the zipper of his mask. His fingers grazed across fabric, and then he remembered that his old mask was gone. He and Rantaro had made new ones on a date together after getting rid of his mask and his uniform in one fell swoop months ago. The new one felt comforting as he slipped it on, helping to slow his breathing ever so slightly. Korekiyo’s eyes had finally adjusted, and he could see the trinkets and souvenirs from his and Rantaro’s travels. It was rare for them to be home to see them, but here they were now. The room was crowded with pictures and memories in the form of physical objects, and there were plenty of books and journals littered about the floor, but there wasn’t a single piece of her in that room. There never would be; he didn’t belong to her anymore.
Korekiyo had been going to therapy for a while now. As soon as he managed to admit that there was a problem, he started to work towards a healthier life. Rantaro had been a massive help along the way, even if he didn’t intend it. He listened to anything Rantaro said, naturally, as he found him fascinating, but hearing the way in which he talked about his sisters while they travelled was the first spark towards realizing that he may not have had a normal, healthy attachment. With a bit of research, he learned of the true meaning of what he had faced over the course of his life, the magnitude of his sister’s abuse finally clicking in his mind. It devastated him for a while, but bit by bit, he was healing, getting closer to being able to have a more normal life. There was no more uniform, just clothes of his own that he picked out on his own every day and the occasional shirt stolen from Rantaro. There was no more waking up early in the mornings to do makeup for someone that wasn’t him, just the occasional bit that he reclaimed for himself whenever he felt like doing it, no one else. There was no more nagging voice in the back of his head at all times, ordering him, suffocating him, pushing him closer and closer to ruin, just.... Silence.
Deafening silence.
He still didn’t know if he preferred the silence to the chaos. It was easier to focus on things now, sure, but in times like this, alone with his own thoughts, the only sound in the room being the air conditioner humming away to keep the room cool on a hot summer’s night, he almost missed having something to hear, to listen to. In a time like this, it would keep his mind from drifting back to that dream…
It wasn’t that he hated his long hair. He understood that it was nothing short of beautiful on him, but even now, the upkeep was exhausting. He was constantly brushing it out, trying all sorts of tricks to make it any less thin or tangled on any given day. He couldn’t shower in the mornings with the way it was, or else it would be dripping wet and unkempt for the rest of the day. What really bothered him, though, was despite how long he had worn his hair like this, how accustomed he had become to looking in the mirror and seeing several feet of luxurious green behind him, it still didn’t feel like it belonged to him. It was hers. This is how she wanted to look, pulling Korekiyo’s autonomy right out of his own hands, not giving him a choice in the matter, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it.
He didn’t really know why, and that irony wasn’t lost on him. He strove to find out more about the world around him, about humanity, but he couldn’t grasp his own feelings. It might have been because it was his last link to her, everything else having already been boxed up, thrown away, or burnt. The makeup he wore from time to time no longer held connotation to her, at least in his eyes. His therapist had told him that he may have a hard time letting go, and damn, he was feeling it now.
It might have been Rantaro, though. Korekiyo’s eyes drifted down towards the sleeping figure of his partner beside him. Shirtless, nothing but his necklace and a pair of boxers on, serene as could be and positively gorgeous. God, if one thing made him feel like his skin was most definitely his now, it was Rantaro. Feather light touches in passing, genuine compliments out of absolutely nowhere, the worship that he subjected every inch of Korekiyo’s body to… Being with Rantaro was like dying young and ending up in Elysium; shocking, and he didn’t understand what he did to deserve it, but it was worlds better than anything life could have offered him before.
They hadn’t been dating for all that long, maybe a bit under a year, but they had been close for a while now. As soon as they could, they started travelling the world at each other’s sides, allowing Korekiyo to get his studies done while Rantaro looked for his sisters. They had an apartment together for years out of convenience, living together in the off time, even sharing a bed so they didn’t have to get a bigger one. As far as either of them were concerned, they were the most constant force in each other’s lives, and one another’s best friends. They would stay up late at night in their shared beds, talking about everything and nothing, and they were always standing so close or touching that people started to just assume they were partners outright. It happened enough that they themselves had started to wonder. Korekiyo had asked if they were dating months ago, but neither of them could remember the exact day. By that point, they might as well have been, and that’s the conclusion they had come to. They had been together ever since, and Korekiyo found that it only got better once they made it official.
It was that worship, though, that was bothering him now. He adored it, every second of it, but one thing couldn’t help but creep its way into his head and torment him. Rantaro treated every part of him with unconditional love, but Korekiyo knew he had favorite parts. He liked his hands, his neck, his face… and his hair. He found it so, so beautiful, his hands wrapped up in it while they made love, brushing through it as Korekiyo read him stories or told him about his studies, braiding it in the mornings before they went out to explore together. There was only one problem with this; that had been her most prized possession when they shared a body, too. He found it ironic that both of his lovers, the good and the bad, the live and the dead, the right and the wrong, could favor the same thing, and for that to be the one part he found such deep discomfort in. It was getting to a point that he couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t want to upset Rantaro, after all, what if he left him? What if he decided that he hated him afterword, or what if-
“Were you just gonna stare at me forever, or were you going to wake me up eventually?” a groggy voice snapped Korekiyo out of his stupor, his eyes focusing on Rantaro once again. The adventurer was looking up at him, one eye barely open and his face squished against the pillow.
“...Ah. I’m sorry to wake you, my darling,” Korekiyo was impressed with how steady he managed to keep his voice as he spoke. “Is something wrong?”
“You didn’t wake me up, Kiyo, and I’m fine. What about you?” When Korekiyo didn’t answer, not for a few seconds, Rantaro patted the spot beside him. “C’mere. Do you wanna talk about it?”
Korekiyo sighed, laying back down beside Rantaro. “I’ll… consider it.” Immediately, one of Rantaro’s hands fell to Korekiyos waist, landing right on the exposed patch of skin where his shirt rode up. The other grabbed one of Korekiyo’s scarred up hands, bringing it to Rantaro’s lips so the other man could press a sleepy kiss against the back of it.
“Take as long as you need. Did I tell you last night that you look pretty in my t-shirt?”
“Yes, you did. Five times,” Korekiyo let out a soft chuckle despite himself, forgetting his worries for just a moment.
“Well, I’m telling you again. You look super pretty in my t-shirt, babe, like, uh… Aphrodite, or someone,” Rantaro kept kissing his hand gently, hitting every single scar and mark as he trailed down to his wrist and right back up again.
“Rantaro, darling, if you valued my life, you would not compare me to Aphrodite. I cannot explain to you at the moment how irresponsible that is.”
“Fine, fine. You’re a little less pretty than Aphrodite, but only a little. Better?” A lazy grin spread across his face. He wasn’t truly worried, Korekiyo knew that, but he appreciated the effort and the listening regardless.
“Marginally… Could you just speak until I’m prepared to take over? Not about anything in particular, just… talk. My apologies, I need a minute.”
“‘Course. Take as long as you need,” he repeated, and with that, he took a breath and started to speak. “So, this is a story I used to tell one of my sisters while we were on the boat. She was kinda scared of sea monsters, so I would spook her, but then I would get to act all cool and strong and protect her from the monsters that were never really there. We had fun with it. It starts out with the boat rocking underneath us, and a roar off in the distance- usually thunder, but there were some other things from time to time- before the monster approached. It would get closer, and closer…” that’s about when Korekiyo tuned him out. It wasn’t intentional, he was truly enthralled in what Rantaro had to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus right now. With another voice speaking, he could think a little clearer, a little more recklessly, and he felt safer now than he had moments ago. He could feel Rantaro’s fingertips lightly running across his hip, warm and soothing, as well as the occasional squeeze of his hand when Rantaro needed to add a little extra emphasis to his story. It was right when Rantaro let go of his hand, his fingers going to brush a stray lock of hair out of Korekoiyo’s face, that Korekiyo finally spoke once again.
“Rantaro, I want to cut my hair.” Rantaro’s hand paused, not touching his hair, instead falling to Korekiyo’s cheek. It was a bit more difficult to tell in the darkness of their room, but for some reason, Rantaro didn’t look near as mad as Korekiyo expected him to. In fact, he just looked a bit shocked. Not mad. Just surprised.
“Okay. I’ll call the place where I get my hair done tomorrow, I’ll see if I can get you in for a trim or something.”
Korekiyo felt a shaky breath rattle its way up from his lungs and out of his throat, the warm air pushed back into his already flushed face. He was pushing his luck. “...No.”
“No?” Rantaro repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You… wanna do it yourself?”
“No. That was… poor wording on my part, I apologize. I would like for you to cut my hair shorter. A lot shorter. More importantly, I would like it done now.” Silence followed. Rantaro didn’t say anything, and their eye contact broke as Rantaro looked straight up. Korekiyo could feel the anxiety bubbling right back up. “...Darling? I’m sorry, I-”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for, I’m just trying to remember where I put the scissors last. C’mon, go wait in the bathroom for me, I’ll be in there in a minute.” With that, Rantaro let go of him entirely and rolled out of bed, trudging to the doorway of their room. Korekiyo sat up once again, watching him.
“Are you not mad?” Korekiyo watched as Rantaro paused, his shoulder slumping against the doorway as he looked over his shoulder at his partner. There was a certain mischievous glint in his eye that Korekiyo could see from the bed, his features illuminated by the dim glow of the hallway.
“I mean, I’m a little mad I gotta get up at 2:30 in the morning, but since it’s you, I’ll let it slide,” he let his teasing sink in for a moment, chuckling softly before speaking once more. “No, Kiyo, I’m not mad at you. Meet me in there, alright?” Once he saw Korekiyo nod, he pushed himself off the doorway with a soft groan and slinked towards the kitchen on socked feet.
Korekiyo didn’t stall for long, only taking a moment to register what just happened. He couldn’t understand why Rantaro wasn’t mad at him, he was taking away something he loved, after all, but the overwhelming warmth he felt in his chest was overpowering that feeling, for the most part. Once in their bathroom, he momentarily flicked on the lights, and, with a wince of pain, decided they were too bright. He went under the counter, grabbing a few of their candles and lighting them around the mirror. It would be enough light, at least for this. They had bought them for some scene the two of them had agreed to do a while ago, but they had turned into something of a comfort for him over time. In addition to the candles, Korekiyo retrieved the chair from their shared desk and a length of green rope. Sitting in the chair, he coiled the rope loosely around his hands until Rantaro returned. He saw his dark green locks spilling down his shoulders, slightly messy from the rough sleep he had just endured. He noticed he had picked up the mask that they had stained to look like old parchment and ink, his personal favorite beside the plain black one. More than that, he noticed he looked… scared, almost. He couldn’t really remember the last time he felt scared. It might have been whenever they got rid of the uniform, but staring at himself now, candles illuminating his face, giving his hair a dull shine...
Rantaro was in the bathroom a minute later, their kitchen scissors on his hand. “I found them, they were on top of the fridge. Before you ask, I don’t know either. Are we doing this by candlelight?”
“I would prefer it. It’s a bit bright with the normal lighting, and I do not know if I have the strength to watch…” Korekiyo watched as Rantaro’s arm snaked past him, setting the scissors on the counter. Rantaro’s chin came to rest on his shoulder as he crouched down, and Korekiyo could see him bury his face into the crook of his neck with a kiss.
“Gotcha. Is the rope for anything in particular?”
“I cannot trust myself not to panic or lash out in the middle of this. I want this, but I am equally as scared. I feel as though it may be safer for the both of us if my hands are bound.”
“Ah, I see,” Rantaro opened and closed his hand as he reached for the rope, which Korekiyo handed to him before putting his wrists together. Rantaro tied them together, not too tight, and made sure to test them before giving Korekiyo his hands back. “Better?” A nod. “Good. Can I ask what we’re doing this for?”
“It… reminds me too much of her. I know you love it, I’m sorry, but I won’t- I can’t deal with it anymore. I beg of you not to hate me, I can try to grow it back later, but-”
“Hey, Kiyo, hey, calm down,” Rantaro interrupted, quickly taking hold of Korekiyo’s hands again. “I’m not going to hate you. I like your hair, but I’ll like it the same if it’s shorter, too. It’s the person that it’s attached to that I really care about, okay?”
“...Alright. Are you sure that you want this?”
“Do I want it? That shit doesn’t matter. Do you want it?” Korekiyo stayed completely silent, and Rantaro got the idea that he wanted a different answer. “Yes, I want this. I want you to be comfortable and happy, and I think whatever length you wanna cut your hair to is gonna be super handsome on you, okay?”
“Just handsome, not pretty?” Korekiyo watched Rantaro’s face in the mirror as he spoke. He saw the slight upturn of his eyes as he himself smirked, Rantaro opening his mouth to say something, then looking at Korekiyo’s reflection as well. A grin spread across his face, and he chuckled, giving him a firm kiss on the cheek right above the edge of his mask.
“Freakin’ adorable. I know you’re kidding, but you’ll still be pretty, too. Now, I’ll ask again: do you want this? Just an added warning, I haven’t really done this before, so it’ll look pretty bad until we can get you into an actual salon or something.”
“Yes. I am, admittedly, somewhat nervous, but I believe this is what I want. I don’t care if it’s a mess for now, the fact that you did it is what matters.” With a nod and another kiss, Rantaro stood back up, pulling a hair tie off his wrist with his teeth and starting to smooth out Korekiyo’s hair.
“So, how high were ya thinking? Like, shoulder blades, shoulders, should I get the razor instead?” Rantaro made sure he got enough of the knots out, but when he mentioned the razor, Korekiyo tensed.
“I said shorter. Not bald. We’re not making that big of a jump right now.”
Rantaro chuckled softly, pulling a lock of hair behind Korekiyo’s ear. “I’m just messin’ with ya. How about… like, chin height? I think that would look nice on you, and it’ll grow back if you hate it. Not super short, not super long.”
“...Yes. I think that may work.” As soon as Korekiyo finished speaking, Rantaro started to tie his hair up into a low ponytail, and all he could do was sit there, hands folded together in his lap.
“You can punch me if this ends up being, like, the worst thing in the world, ‘kay?” Rantaro picked up the scissors, and Korekiyo took in a nervous breath.
“I wouldn’t dream of that, darling. I asked for this. Don’t talk like that, or else I’ll-”
“Tear out my nerves?”
“No. No, I like you, I would never. I’ll just be bitter about it, I suppose, I don’t want you to be frightened by me.”
“Aww, you’re cute when you’re all pouty, though... and besides, I’m never scared of you. Just scared for you. That’s why I care about you so much, y’know?” the blade of the scissors came right above where the hair tie held his hair in place. “Alright, last chance. Any objections?”
“...You may begin, Rantaro,” Korekiyo’s hands clenched tightly together, and his eyes locked on himself in the mirror as he tried to keep himself from shaking. If he panicked, he could hurt Rantaro, or hurt himself. He had to stay calm, to stay strong, or else-
“You don’t have to watch, y’know. You can close your eyes, or pull your mask over ‘em, or something. That might make it easier, right?” Korekiyo considered it for a moment, then just held his tied hands up. Rantaro muttered a soft ‘oh’ and pulled Korekiyo’s mask up for him. Cool air hit his lips, and Korekiyo sighed shakily, taking some in. It was barely a second of silence before he heard Rantaro honest to gods snort, trying to hold back his laughter.
“Rantaro, I feel foolish already, no need to laugh at me further,” he replied tensely, but with no real malice behind him. Rantaro actually did let out a brief laugh at that.
“Sorry, sorry, I just think it’s funny because I usually see the mask on the other half of your face, ya get me? Opposite energy… Mmkay, I’m starting… now.” When he heard no protest from Korekiyo, Rantaro started to cut into his hair. It was gentle, careful, and Korekiyo could just barely hear the snip of the scissors behind him. There was a light pressure on his scalp as Rantaro held the ponytail, and that pressure decreased, little by little, as the ends started to fall out of place and fall onto Korekiyo’s neck. Speaking of his neck, it felt cold. He put his hair up often enough, so it may have just been a placebo now that he couldn’t put it back down, but it felt cold regardless. While Korekiyo managed to stay mostly calm and still the entire time, back perfectly straight in the chair, the process felt like an eternity. It couldn’t be more than thirty seconds, but he got in his own head again regardless, worrying about what had already been done and the permanence of such.
Finally, finally, he felt the last of the hair fall against his ear, and Rantaro spoke once again. “And just like that, whole new Kiyo, right in our bathroom! You ready?” Korekiyo opened his mouth to speak, then, words dying in his throat, he simply nodded. His hands were undone first, and when he made no moves to pull the mask down himself, he heard Rantaro squatting down behind him once more. He turned his head to where he believed he would be, and Rantaro caught his lips in a gentle kiss. They stayed like that for just a few moments, basking in one another’s presence in the low light, until Rantaro pulled away. Korekiyo leaned forward a bit to try to follow, but quickly righted himself, and the mask was pulled away from his eyes and set proper on his mouth once again.
Gods, that was short. Much shorter than it had been. It did line up a little bit below his jawline, likely so a professional could fix Rantaro’s choppiness. It wasn’t perfectly straight, but it was passable. “...Ah.”
Rantaro put his arms over Korekiyo’s shoulders, leaning over him and putting his chin on top of his partner’s head. “So, how do you feel?”
“...Lighter,” that wasn’t a lie, either. Physically, his head didn’t feel as weighed down. It was almost freeing. On top of that, it almost felt as though a massive metaphorical weight had been lifted off of his chest, like something that had burdened him for so long was now gone, just leaves on the breeze. “I… think I like it. Do you like it?”
“Like it? Kiyo, oh my gods, you look so gorgeous!” Rantaro gushed, reaching up to run his fingers through Korekiyo’s hair. That earned a blush from Korekiyo, who looked down from the mirror and down at his hands. It was almost a shock to feel Rantaro’s hands get through his hair that fast, but not entirely unpleasant. “Hm…”
“Are you reconsidering your prior statement?”
“Nah, of course not. You’re the most beautiful, independent, amazing person I know, and I think you look great. I was just thinking… I won’t be able to pull your hair from as far away anymore when we’re gettin’ into it, y’know?” Ah, yes. Korekiyo turned even redder, his bare feet sliding together across the tile.
“I see. How unfortunate.”
“Nah, not really,” Korekiyo met Rantaro’s eyes in the mirror again, only to catch a glimpse of him threading his fingers into his hair, right up close to his scalp. “Just means I can get a better grip, and I get to be closer to you… sounds like a win in my book,” Rantaro’s breath ghosted his ear, just for a moment, before the adventurer stood back up. “Can we go back to bed now? As much as I wanna pet you and call you pretty until the sun comes up, I’m only human, and I think we could both use the rest. We can clean up here in the morning.”
“I would like that,” Korekiyo stood as well, and Rantaro headed back to their room without another word. Korekiyo started to put the lids on the candles, then noticed a long, green train of hair, still rubber banded together, resting on the counter beside them. It was both eerie and liberating to see it there. “Rantaro, darling, is there any particular reason you didn’t just throw this away?” he called out to him with a glance over his shoulder. He had already made himself comfy in bed again, eyes half-shut as he looked towards the bathroom.
“The hair? Yeah, two reasons. First, I want my hair tie back. Second, I was thinking it would be a good opportunity for my partner to tell me about all of the cool rituals I can do with his hair. Bonding activity.”
“I’ll gladly tell you about some tomorrow after you get rid of this,” for now, though, he left it on the counter once the candles were out, climbing into bed at Rantaro’s side. Rantaro let him take off his mask before he pulled him in, the two of them laying face to face across from one another, and Korekiyo’s hands fell to Rantaro’s waist. Rantaro gave him a smile in the darkness, and Korekiyo, feeling vulnerable yet safe in his arms, smiled back.
“Mmmm… fine, but let me know if you change your mind. I don’t care if we actually experiment with them or not, that’s your thing, I just wanna stare at you while you talk, okay?”
“Okay, Rantaro. Any time you want,” he replied softly, the corners of his mouth still barely upturned. With one more sweet, tender kiss on the lips, Rantaro pulled Korekiyo ever closer to him and let the anthropologist rest his head on his chest.
“So, so beautiful… G’night, Kiyo, I love you.”
“I love you too, more than the world itself,” Korekiyo murmured against his shirt, and their room once again fell silent. This time, it wasn’t crushing. It was warm, inviting, the perfection of the moment barely taking minutes to lull the both of them to sleep. For Korekiyo, this time, it was dreamless. There was nothing; no hurt, no memories, just quiet and comfort. There was a certain serenity he derived in knowing that the last piece of her, the last grip she had retained on him after all this time, was sitting on their bathroom counter, separated from his body, and never would she control him ever again. He would wake up the next morning, barely changed, sunlight filtering through the windows, curled up in the arms of the man he loved, the man who loved him back so innocently, and not much will have truly changed on the outside, but inside?
One step more, hand in hand with Rantaro Amami, towards peace.