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"Wouldn't you get in trouble for that, Ryoko-chan?"
He looms there, sitting on her bed, the way he always used to when he visited. He'd sit there for hours on end and make her laugh, making her toys float and hover and dance in the moonlight— making stories out of her dolls and her ponies. She never did know how he managed that, magical as it is.
Red dye stains her hands— red on her palms and under her nails. In retrospect, she should've worn gloves, but it doesn't matter now. Her hair is wet, bright red water drip-dropping like rain and staining the towel on her neck. She looks at the man in the mirror, his hair the same red as hers. His gakuran is neat, closed up to the topmost button, a perfectly circular hole where his stomach is.
"It doesn't matter, really. I'm off to college," Ryoko replies. She runs a finger through her hair, now so far removed from its usual drab brown. "I don't think people there would mind."
"If you say so," he hums. His voice is hazy, it's been years since she last heard it. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Damn him and his natural red hair. Stupid cousin. Stupid stupid stupid—
Her earrings ( his earrings) feel heavier than usual. Cherries. He liked cherries. He'd tease her by stealing cherries off her ice cream sundaes and rolling them against his tongue again and again and again. He'd do it until Ryoko turned red with embarrassment and chased him down the sidewalk.
"I'm going to Morioh,'' she says, steadfast. "I'm going to find out what happened to you."
When Ryoko looks up, she is alone. A sigh leaves her lips.
Kakyoin Noriaki has been seventeen for ten years. Kakyoin Ryoko turned eighteen ten days ago.
And now… Ryoko's older than Noriaki ever was. To look in the mirror is to see so many what-ifs and could-bes, universes where whatever happened on that dark, forgotten, Cairo night never did, universes where Noriaki never vanished, universes where Lord Dio never ran off with her cousin in tow. He should be here right now, sending her off with a knowing gaze and stupid college stories. Tell her to her face that dyeing her hair was a horrible idea.
Morioh may not have the answers she seeks… but Morioh has Kakyoin Noriaki, and maybe that is enough for now. She needs her cousin, especially now when Ryoko's life is in shambles and continues to move forward relentlessly without letting her breathe.
She dries her hair and the towel gets thrown unceremoniously to a waiting hamper. The dye job isn't the best, and there's splotches of dark brown that peek through red curls, but it'll do. A second pass of dye isn't going to kill anyone.
It's been ten years but it doesn't hurt any less. Maybe sometime, somewhere that isn't right now, she'd find something.
So she breathes in, breathes out, and takes the one way ticket to Morioh out of her vanity drawer. There's no turning back now.