Chapter Text
“I still think I look stupid.”
Chie’s tone is just as sullen as her expression as she stands in front of the floor-length mirror in Yukiko’s bedroom. “Can I please cut it now?” she whines, turning and grabbing two fistfuls of it as she looks at Yukiko. “It’s pretty long already…”
“Ah ah ah~!” Yukiko rejects her plea in a cheerful, sing-song-y voice. “The promise was that you had to grow it out until it’s exactly as long as mine was!”
Some months prior, Yukiko had managed to wheedle Chie into making a bet. Chie lost. Yukiko’s prize was Chie agreeing to grow out her hair. The same day Chie had pinky-promised to Yukiko that she would, Yukiko gleefully chopped off all her own hair in purposeful imitation of Chie’s usual style. She’s even kept it trimmed ever since; after all, what’s the point if Yukiko’s hair grows out at the same time as Chie’s? There’d be no contrast, it wouldn’t be like they’d swapped hairstyles at all! Yukiko nods to herself, presently. Her logic is sound, as usual.
She nods a second time, though this one in acknowledgement of the perfectly Chie-green headband she has gifted Chie with, the one that brought Chie to the mirror in the first place.
Chie groans, turns away from one last glance in the mirror, and flomps down onto Yukiko’s futon. “I’m a tomboy, you know,” she mumbles into the comforter. “We tomboys aren’t suited to luxuriously luscious long locks.” Despite her grumpiness, she still manages to sneak in a bit of alliteration right at the end; she’s rewarded shortly with a loud snort of laughter from nearby. She still hasn’t figured out why that seems to float one of Yukiko’s boats, but all that honestly matters to her is that it does.
A moment later, Yukiko gracefully alights on the bed beside her, her slender fingers retrieving a length of the light-brown hair that lies splayed across the comforter haphazardly. She gently slides her thumb and index finger down the strands, admiring the reflections of the afternoon sun in them. “Rise-chan says that no one is very good at seeing the nice things about their own appearance,” Yukiko remarks. “I think she’s right. You’re very pretty, Chie, but you never seem to think so. It’s okay though. I’ll just keep telling you that you are until you believe me!”
If Chie had only been face down before by virtue of her less than graceful bed flop, she remains face down due to an absolute refusal to look up. It comes as somewhat of a surprise that the comforter hasn’t begun melting against her red-hot cheeks.
Yukiko smiles, twirling the lock of hair around her finger until the finger looks like a hair mummy (she giggles profusely at this). “I always knew you’d look amazing with long hair, you know! But I also knew I’d never get to see it unless I made you promise somehow.” She pauses, unwinding the lock idly. “Though really, you’re pretty no matter what way you wear your hair.” A thought strikes her abruptly, and she leans over,planting her hands on either side of Chie’s head.
Chie can practically feel the holes Yukiko’s eyes are now drilling into the back of her skull.
“What if, when it gets long enough to cut again, we shave the side of your head?!”
Chie springs off the bed as if she’s a door someone popped open with a crowbar. “Are you crazy?!” she yelps. “I’d look like a friggin’ delinquent!”
Yukiko claps her hands, her warm brown irises practically sparkling. “I know, wouldn’t it be wonderful! Oh, and ironic, too! Since you’re going to be an officer.” She sniggers. “An officer with a shaved head and a mask - pfff!”
Chie drags a hand down her face, beleaguered. “Listen, it’s great that you think I’d make an attractive delinquent and all, but I kind of think they wouldn’t let me into the police department like that.”
The Amagi heiress falls silent for a moment. Then she lights up again, and Chie realizes she hasn’t dodged any bullets. Yet. “That’s okay! We’ll just wait until they hire you and then shave the side of your head! You know, now that I think about it, I’ve even seen these absolutely marvelous patterns where--”
Chie plants her hands on Yukiko’s shoulders frantically, trying for a more direct approach. “Yukiko. I’m not. Shaving. My head.” Then the spark in Yukiko’s eyes dims, and Chie immediately deflates. “Ugh. Probably. I’m probably not shaving my head.” She’s rewarded by the spark of possibility returning to Yukiko’s gaze, and she’s not sure whether or not she should really be relieved by this. But when the alternative is Yukiko Amagi looking disappointed--
Well. That’s not an option.
Chie sighs and flops backwards onto the futon this time, her hands landing palms-up. After a moment, Yukiko copies her, but places one hand palm-down over Chie’s, curling their fingers together.
“When we’re old and grey, we are literally gonna be a roadmap of bad ideas, you know. Our kids are gonna grow up and all I’ll be able to say is, ‘This is an example of what NOT to do.’”
Yukiko smiles. “Don’t be silly, Chie, our roadmap will be full of only the very best decisions!” She squeezes Chie’s hand, scoots her head closer until she can press her forehead against the other girl’s temple, and closes her eyes with a smile. “I know mine already is.”
Chie smiles, then, too. She gazes at nothing in particular on the ceiling, her mind’s eye seeing a couple of someday-children romping around on the grounds of the Inn, a new puppy winding itself back and forth between them, and a beautiful, beloved woman in a pink kimono trying very hard to keep up. “Yeah,” she says, more a breath than anything.
“Yeah. So is mine.”