Work Text:
“Don’t you want to look like a girl, Towa?”
Towa frowned at Mama Moe.
“How would having short hair make me look less girly?”
Mama Moe glanced over the top of her crossword puzzle.
“Well...most girls keep their hair long, is all.”
“Mei’s hair only comes down to her shoulders.”
“That’s because Mei is still growing,” Mama Moe said, proudly glancing at her four year old daughter. Mei was lying on her stomach on the floor next to Towa, doodling with her crayons. Towa looked down and smiled at her sister.
“Please, Mama Moe. I really, really want to cut my hair short.”
Mama Moe sighed. “Well, you know where I stand, but you can ask Papa Sota when he gets home.” She glanced at the clock. “Which should be in approximately ten minutes!”
Mama Moe hopped off the couch and headed to the kitchen to start dinner. Towa sighed.
Please, Papa Sota. Help me out, here.
“Towa, look!”
Towa looked down at Mei, who was holding up her drawing. It was a doodle of two people – Mei had already advanced past stick figures – one with curly brown hair and one with short white hair with a magenta stripe.
“It’s you and me when I’m twelve, too!” Mei said proudly. “I made sure to give you short hair in this one. I think it looks pretty!” She handed it to Towa. “You can keep it.”
Towa took the drawing and looked it over. She felt her eyes start to tear up as she wrapped Mei into a tight hug. She didn’t bother explaining that by the time Mei was twelve, she would be twenty.
“I love it, Mei. Thank you so much.”
Mei patted Towa’s shoulders. “I hope I get to see you with real short hair soon, too!”
“I’m sorry, Towa, but I agree with Mama Moe on this one.” Papa Sota said gently as the family washed up after dinner.
“But why?!” Towa demanded.
Papa Sota sighed. “Let’s finish the washing up, then we’ll talk.”
Towa groaned in frustration but grabbed a dish towel anyway.
When the dishes were finished, Towa settled with Papa Sota on the couch while Mama Moe got Mei ready for bed.
“Is it because I won’t look girly enough?” Towa blurted out before Papa Sota could say anything.
Papa Sota raised an eyebrow. “Who told you that?”
“Mama Moe.”
Papa Sota laughed. “Ah, don’t take it personally, Towa. You know how girly Mama Moe is herself.”
Towa nodded. “I know. And I have nothing against girly girls!” she said, holding her hands up in protest. “But I just want to try something...I don’t know, different.”
Papa Sota nodded.
“I understand, Towa. But here me out. You’re starting middle school next week – ,”
“All the more reason to cut my hair. It’s a fresh start!”
“Let me finish, please.”
Towa nodded. “Sorry.”
“I know that elementary school was tough for you in a lot of ways, and you’re right, this is a chance for a fresh start. My concern is that if you cut your hair short, that it might make it harder for you to fit in and be accepted by your peers.”
Towa folded her arms.
“Since when have I ever cared about that, Papa Sota?”
“I know. And I admire you for being the kind of person who is never afraid to be themselves, Towa.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I just don’t want you to be lonely or hurt.”
“I’m not lonely. I have you, and Mama Moe and Mei, and Grammy and Great-Grandpa. Buyo, too.”
Papa Sota smiled. “I know. And we all love you very, very much. But it’s not the same as having friends in your own peer group.”
Towa shrugged. “I long since gave up trying to make that happen.”
Papa Sota sighed.
“Will you promise me that you’ll try going forward?”
Towa thought about it.
“I can promise you that I won’t not try. How about that?”
Papa Sota blinked. “I’m not really sure what that means, but alright.”
Later that night, Towa crept into the kitchen for a pair of scissors. She didn’t dare try to sneak into her parents’ room to look for the hair cutting shears that Mama Moe kept in their bathroom.
She felt a little guilty as she tiptoed down the hall to the bathroom she shared with Mei, but she was determined in her mission.
I’m sorry, Papa Sota, but I just can’t take no for an answer on this one.
It was difficult to get an even cut all the way around. When she was finished, she quietly returned the scissors to the kitchen and wiped them down with a disinfectant cloth. She took the broom and dustpan from the utility closet and returned to the bathroom, quickly sweeping up the fallen strands of white hair. She was used to seeing Mama Moe sweep up after giving her or Mei a trim, but there was something different about sweeping up her own hair. It felt freeing, as if she were bidding farewell to a piece of herself that had served its purpose, but was no longer needed.
“Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission,” she whispered to herself as she returned the broom and dustpan to the utility closet. She crept back to her room and took out her phone. She flipped the camera around in selfie mode and held it up as she stood with her back towards the mirror on her dresser.
“Not bad,” she said out loud, smiling to herself. “Not bad at all.”
“Towa! What have you done to yourself?”
Mama Moe stared in shock, her coffee mug paused in the air halfway to her mouth, as Towa entered the kitchen.
“I know it’s not as good as when you trim our hair,” Towa said quickly. “I did the best I could!”
“Towa, we specifically told you – ,”
“It’s alright, Moe.”
Towa and Mama Moe looked at Papa Sota, who was looking up from his newspaper and smiling at Towa.
“You’re not mad?” Towa asked in surprise.
“No. It suits you very well.”
Mama Moe sighed. “I must admit, it does complement your eyes.”
Towa grinned sheepishly. “You really think so? I know it was sneaky of me, but I just couldn’t take no for an answer on this one.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Papa Sota said. “We may worry about you fitting in at school, but I’d worry even more if you ever lost your fighting spirit.”
Towa grinned at his words. “Thanks, Papa Sota.”
“Towa! You did it!”
Towa turned to see Mei entering the kitchen.
“I sure did! Do you like it, Mei?”
Mei squealed and threw her chubby arms around Towa’s waist. “It’s even prettier than my drawing!”
Towa hugged her adopted sister.
I may be different, she thought, but at least I’m me.