Chapter Text
“Welcome to Musutafu City, Japan. I hope you all had a pleasant flight from Paris and that you enjoy your stay. Have a great rest of your day and thank you for flying Japan Air.”
As the captain hung up the intercom with a scratchy click, the packed cabin erupted into a bustle of desperate energy. A chorus of sore groans echoed with the unloading of luggage from overhead. Sitting patiently amongst the passengers, with a head of overgrown brunette roots and faded dye: the newly appointed pro-hero, Artiste. As known by her friends and family, however, just Hina.
The flight from France was excruciating: trapped for an odd 14 hours with nothing to do but rewatch sitcoms on the tiny screen, or try to get ten minutes here or there of uncomfortable sleep. She had no one to talk to, no phone storage for downloads, and the light from her sketching tablet would’ve disturbed the other red-eye passengers. Fantastic. So either way, Hina was stuck with her own thoughts for far longer than she would’ve liked.
As she finally unloaded her sticker-adorned carry-on and made her way off the plane with a thank you to the crew, her mind once again wandered back to her in-flight thoughts.
It had been a little over three years since she left her home city in a huff; sparked by revenge-filled daydreams and that suffocating teenage urge for independence. She was 18 when she flew off to Paris, and she could only now chuckle at how indignant she had been to anyone who would dare doubt her maturity.
What a joke, really.
Anything done in one’s teenage years, though, will always seem childish in adulthood. Hina mulled over her crappy group of friends, her one-sided crush, and her easily manipulated heart, broken. Despite her string of stupid decisions in her third year at UA High School, she gained the clarity and courage to achieve her lifelong dream: debuting as a hero in one of the cultural and artistic epicenters of the world.
Honestly, she should thank her kid self, she thought, and maybe even forgive her for doing what was necessary, since her actions led to Hina experiencing those three incredible years in Paris. There, she had been free of the whispers of doubt, or accusations of nepotism that haunted her daily in school. She had finally been able to live as her true, unburdened self.
Yet, she still came back.
Musutafu was her home and always would be. While Paris had been an amazing adventure, Japan was where she had always intended to lay down her roots and begin climbing the charts. She figured, if anyone was going to protect her home, it was going to be Artiste.
The rumors of nepotism were sure to recirculate once she arrived on Japan’s hero scene, but as she had done in Paris, she kept reminding herself: Artiste can and will achieve greatness on her own. She already had an agency lined up, thanks to her Parisian connections. All she had to do was get ready and show up bright and early the next morning for her first day.
Hina entered the sunlit arrivals terminal, having picked up the remainder of her things from the baggage claim that she had not already shipped separately for her move. A soft hiss escaped her lips at the bright morning light. The sudden exposure to daylight, added to the severe lack of sleep, did not do any favors for her headache. She hastily threw on her glasses to hide her bloodshot eyes: the polarized lenses sitting in red, heart-shaped frames, quickly darkening. The sounds of the airport became white noise as she took in the comforting familiarity of it all.
A deep breath filled her lungs - Hina knew she had to ready herself for an inevitable phone call. Clicking the speed dial, she heard that monotone ringing in her ear. A heart-shaped, rhinestone phone charm knocked gently against her fingers as she waited.
And waited.
And waited...
Until a loud and overly excited voice answered, immediately bombarding her with questions.
“Hi Mom…Yeah, yeah, exhausted, but a smooth flight overall...Mhm…Mhm… I just have my clothing bags mostly, you and Daddy got the rest right?… Great. I’ll be at the penthouse soon…Yes of course I still have my keys!” She reached in a slight panic for her shoulder bag, feeling for the key ring that she had not touched in a while now. Relief quickly passed through her as she felt the tattered All Might bauble that had been attached to her house keys since middle school. “Yep I’ll just let myself in…Okay I’ll see you guys when you’re done work… I missed you and Daddy too…Okay…Uhuh…Uhuh…Okay...Okay Mom I love you, but my cab is here, I gotta go…Mom-…Mom, I gotta go…Okay…Okay, bye.” Hanging up quickly before her mom could reel her into further conversation, Hina threw her bags into the trunk of the cab and slid in, itching to see the city again. As the taxi pulled away after giving her parents’ address, the young heroine leaned back with a heavy sigh and watched the cityscape. She couldn’t help but doze off to the hypnotizing blur of skyscrapers passing by.
What was meant to be a 40-minute drive felt less than five, as Hina jerked awake at the voice of the cab driver announcing the end of her ride. Paying the man and unloading her things, she was greeted by the familiar sight of an older, mustachioed gentleman in a striking black uniform waiting by the door to the luxury condo complex. He squinted his heavily-browed eyes as realization dawned on him. “Miss Tsukuru, my dear! Is that you? It’s been so long since I last saw you!”
“Hello, Mr. Higashi.” A smile split her cheeks as she warmly embraced the doorman she had known all her life. After letting go, Mr. Higashi looked her up and down, comfortingly patting her on the arm.
She let out a gentle chuckle. “It’s so good to see you again.”
“My word, look at you! So tall and so strong! And your hair; so crazy!” He continued to ramble while helping to collect Hina’s bags, going off on his tangent about how much she had changed since he first met her as a baby.
Another member of staff dressed in the same black uniform assisted in loading her bags into the elevator, as Hina bade Mr. Higashi a fond goodbye, and assured him that this time she was here to stay. She and the member of staff - a new hire she did not recognize - rode the spacious elevator all the way to the top floor. Hina subconsciously counted the floors and timed the corresponding dings to a tuneless rhythm in her head: a habit she made up when she was little. As the doors opened with a final ding, a wave of nostalgia washed over her: she never realized until that moment how much she had missed home. Stepping out of the elevator, the scent of lemon and bleach wafted past her nose, indicating that the hall had recently been cleaned. The grand front door to the penthouse loomed ahead.
Musutafu Royal Towers was residence to multiple important people: politicians, entertainers, and high-ranking heroes alike. Their security measures had always been top-notch, which is why it attracted such clientele. When her older brothers were born, her dad made sure their family could reside here. And when Hina was born, they moved up into one of the towers’ penthouses. Their safety was always in question due to his hero title, but he always did everything he could to ensure it, even now in his retirement. Pulling out her keys and scanning her thumbprint, the door opened without issue.
Pristine and bright, decorated like the cover of a magazine, as to be expected with an architect for a mother - who also had a passion for modern interior design. Though it was never to Hina’s personal taste, it still was home. Not a single thing was out of place, as per the usual standards of the housekeepers. The smell of household cleaner became even stronger as she stepped inside and threw off her denim jacket. The staff member brought the bags inside and waited by the door to be dismissed. Hina thanked them while offering a tip, which was hesitantly accepted. They bowed out of the room, and the door closed behind them.
Completely forgetting about her bags, Hina kicked off her sneakers, stretching out her feet - sore from being constricted for so long. She stumbled through the living room, around the corner, and up the stairs, trying to fight off the intense exhaustion that suddenly hit her like a rogue ball in a schoolyard. Luckily she knew her way to her bedroom, even with her eyes closed.
Kirito and Kaito’s rooms were on the first floor, so Hina got the second floor all to herself. Over the years she had become very grateful for this, growing up with two older twin brothers, even if her room was technically smaller - which she had made a fuss about a handful of times in her teens. She dragged her feet across the hardwood to the collage of a door. It was littered with rhinestones and half-torn anime stickers, all circling a large, handcrafted nameplate, hanging lopsided on its hook. Pushing the door open, Hina felt overwhelmed with memories, as if nothing had changed. In contrast to her parents’ (in her opinion) bland home, Hina’s room could not have been more chaotic and colorful.
Just how she liked it.
The heavy stench of stagnant art supplies mixed with the cleaners, however, intensified her headache. She quickly opened her windows to let in the fresh spring air, letting the soft yellow curtains with embroidered birds billow in the breeze. The smell dissipated after a few moments, and with a dramatic sigh, she unceremoniously dropped onto her plush queen bed. She wrapped herself in her fresh, green floral sheets, that she was sure her mom insisted on washing before she came home.
Hina looked at the ceiling, painted with clouds and stars in various hues of purple and blue. Her chest felt light as she remembered her mom and herself painstakingly painting it together, her dad hovering around the room to make sure neither of them fell. She could easily tell which stars were her mother’s: sharp with clean edges, almost fooling people into thinking they were printed. While Hina’s were messy and abstract, drawn with broad strokes to get the job done quicker.
Impatient as always.
In the end, the duo had created a swirling, harmonious mural that had lulled her to sleep on even the most restless of nights. Hina’s eyelids grew heavy as the painted sky started to blur. Relieved by the fact she no longer had to fight off sleep, Hina let the comforts of home wash over her in a deep, dreamless slumber.
The sound of a voice downstairs stirred Hina from her nap, waking her up suddenly with an unattractive snort. As she had forgotten she was back home for a moment, the confusion of being in her childhood bedroom subsided. Judging by the setting sun and its deep orange hues shining through her window, Hina realized she had been knocked out for hours, and it was now early evening. Rubbing at her eyes, she stretched, her spine giving a few satisfying cracks, but her whole body was still stiff from the flight. She grabbed her glasses from the nightstand and quickly searched through her closet for an old sweatshirt - one with the least paint stains, preferably - before opening her door to see who was home. As she walked down the curved staircase that hugged the floor-to-ceiling windows, her feet stopped. She found herself awestruck by the beauty of the city in the setting sun. A view she had known her whole life, but feels she never really appreciated until now.
“Really Hina? You’re not even home for a day and you still leave your stuff-“ She heard her mom muttering, as she had almost tripped over her luggage coming into the living room - an acute reminder of the tornado she had left downstairs. As soon as her mom’s forest-green eyes were reflected in Hina’s, though, all signs of annoyance immediately disappeared, and the widest smile lifted her mother’s rosy cheeks.
“Oh, sweetie !” She exclaimed in her sing-songy voice, bursting with excitement, then rushed over to crush her only daughter in a hug.
Due to her strict training in Paris, Hina had not been able to return to Japan within those three years, making this hug all the sweeter, as she had deeply missed her mom. Even though all her life, she was told she was a daddy’s girl, she and her mom had a special connection. She got most of her personality and mannerisms from her, as well as a love for creativity which bonded them together through thick and thin. Plus, there was something special about being the only two girls in the ‘dog house’ that they called home.
Even after all those years, Hina felt so vulnerable and safe in her mother’s soft, silk-covered arms, despite the fact that her mom was now quite a bit shorter than her. She inhaled that familiar scent of luxury perfume and freshly styled hair, her mother rubbing her back out of habit like she had done when Hina was a baby.
“Hi, Mama.” Hina sighed into her shoulder. After a moment, her mom gently pushed her out to arm’s length, quickly kissing her forehead before doing so. She started looking her over with a smile, trying to blink away the happy tears.
“Look at you, my love! How was Paris?! How was the agency? Were they nice? Did you eat well? Did you take lots of pictures? Did you meet anyone?” Her mom restarted with her endless barrage of questions that she hadn’t finished asking over the phone earlier that day. Hina noticed, though, that her gaze shifted to the top of her head, her mom trying to hide her immediate shock.
“And look at your… hair!” She began picking up the brunette and faded dyed strands with a perfectly manicured finger, and gently caressing the short-growing tufts on the once shaved side of her head. Her mom was always terrible at hiding her opinions, and this time was no exception.
“It definitely is…something!”
Hina could only sigh. “Why are you surprised? You saw it on video chat not that long ago, it’s just grown out more now” She tried to defend herself, playing with a few of the longer strands. But her mother insisted. “Oh I know, I know, and it was beautiful when you had it freshly done, I remember! But, uh…” She knew what her mother was referring to.
Tsukuru Yuri always lived by the mantra: ‘Dress to Impress’. This was evident in her silk, cream button-down blouse and her navy pencil skirt being held up by a thin gold belt, accentuating her more pear-shaped body. Her deep, midnight blue hair, now streaked with silver, was cut into a chic, layered bob, curtain bangs perfectly styled so as not to block her eyesight, as well as to accentuate the freshly powdered skin on her round, pale face. Hina could only assume that the shoes she took off at the entryway were her classic stiletto, red-bottom heels. She never understood how she walked in them daily at work, but Hina would admit: she did consider stealing a pair now that she was home.
Her mom always made sure the whole family looked their best, causing some friction over the years, as Hina had always played to the beat of her own drum. Over time, Yuri had eased up, understanding that her daughter just liked to look her best in her own way. While she was more haute-couture and business casual, Hina was….eclectic. However, there was a difference between personal style and looking downright unkempt.
“Isn’t your first day with your new agency tomorrow ?”
“Yes, but I didn’t want to get my hair touched up before leaving. For one, I had no time with the move, and it's really expensive, like stupidly expensive-” Hina winced as she remembered how much she had paid for that long, voluminous rainbow faux-hawk and its subsequent upkeep appointments. In euros, nonetheless. “And two: because I figured if I’m starting this new chapter in life, new hair will help me move forward. Just like before.”
Yuri hesitated, pressing her ruby-red lips together. Hina could see the gears turning in her head. With a sense of emergency, she pulled out her smartphone and started to type. “But Hina, I’m sure I could get you an appointment with my stylist early tomorrow morning! Or even if I call in a favor I could possibly get you in this eveni-“
Hina put a hand on her mom’s phone before she could walk away and make the call. “Mom, like I said, it's fine. I’ll figure it out, maybe even tonight. It’s just hair, and they hired me because I’m a good hero, working for a hero agency, not a modeling agency. They will get what they get.” Hina raised her brow.
Yuri was about to object, but looking at her daughter's expression, decided it wasn't worth arguing on her first night home. She forfeited with a huff, putting her phone down and crossing her hands with a gentle exhale. “Fine, fine, whatever you want sweetheart. I don’t doubt you are going to be great, hm? They will be lucky to have you.” She gently pulled down Hina’s cheek to give her a quick peck. She then turned on her heel and made her way to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder. “Your father should be home from the agency any minute now. Make sure to choose what you want to order for dinner tonight! We were going to take you out but we assumed you’d be too tired. Oh and your brothers might stop by-”
Right on cue, the front door clicked open as a familiar set of heavy footsteps came through the entryway. Hina’s face lit up as she nearly skidded across the hardwood floor to meet him. Turning the corner, she saw her dad in his professional work attire, slowly taking off his brown patent leather dress shoes.
“Daddy!” Hina made a running start and caught her dad off guard. He barely had time to brace himself as his fully-grown daughter came flying at him, wrapping his arm around her torso as she jumped to hug him like she was a little kid again. He grunted under the sudden weight, surprised to see his baby girl after so long.
“Hi, Bunny .”
He murmured into her hair, kissing her head softly as he pulled her in as tight as he could with one arm. Her feet just barely dangled off the floor, as her dad stood a little over 6’1”. Hina gladly returned the squeeze, feeling the rough wool texture of his charcoal gray coat against her cheek - the same one he had had for as long as she could remember. She breathed in his bergamot cologne, overcome with fond memories of late-night storytimes and couch cuddles when he’d get back from patrol in his active duty days. While her brothers took after their mom, Hina was the spitting image of her dad. Same warm brunette hair - his now peppered with gray, same thick eyebrows and dimpled smile. Exactly the same stubborn and righteous attitude.
After a long moment, she pulled away to let him finish taking off his outerwear. Her mom peeked her head around the corner from the kitchen.
“Ah, perfect timing!” Walking forward, giving Hina another rub on the back in passing, she quickly kissed her husband hello. She took his coat to hang in the closet for him, despite his weak grunt of protest. Yuri had come to ignore her husband’s resistance to help over the years. Tsukuru Eiji was as stubborn as he was grateful, a painful lesson he has had to learn over his lifetime.
Hina watched the exchange, eyes softening at her parents' interaction:
Her mom filled him in on the day's events as he listened patiently. Her delicate hands straightened his collar and rerolled the cuff of his dress shirt sleeve over his red pullover so it sat neater around the stump where his right arm had once been. Gently, she ran her nails through his gelled hair to put any strays the wind had caught back in place. His eyes, usually hard as amber, had always melted when he looked at his wife. He would never let anyone else do these mundane tasks for him. He was too proud, even still in his older age. Eiji knew, though, that it made her happy to care for him, even in small ways like this; and he would also have been lying if he’d said he didn’t like it too.
Hina truly hoped that one day she might find a love as all-encompassing and unconditional as theirs.
Doubtful, considering her so far disastrous track record.
…Well, who knew.
But, there was definitely no time for that now. She needed to focus on getting through the next 24 hours. She needed to start her new, new life, back here in Japan. Simple.
Apartment hunting, too; she needed to find her own place, preferably near the agency… and definitely near a convenience store.
“Hina?” Her mom’s voice brought her back to the conversation. Blinking a moment through her glasses, she saw both parents looking at her.
“Oh sorry, what?”
Yuri exhaled through her nose. Her daughter's listening skills were one of the only things about her that had never changed.
“I asked if you decided where you wanted to eat. Kirito just messaged me and said he can make it tonight, so I’ll get him to pick it up.”
Hina’s ears perked up at the mention of one of her brothers. Out of the twins, she and Kirito got along the best. Well, as well as a brother and sister could. Kaito on the other hand-
“Kaito unfortunately has patrol tonight.” Her dad said, almost as if he had read her thoughts. Walking past her, not without another quick kiss to her forehead, he made his way to the pewter bar cart that sat in the living room. He poured himself an aged scotch from his collection, with fresh ice plucked from the matching bucket that clinked against the crystal glassware. The last rays of sunlight reflected off his round, gold-rimmed glasses: another characteristic he and Hina shared.
“But, he did say before I left the agency that he would do his best to stop by later tonight and say hello.” He offered her a small reassuring smile before taking a sip, crow's feet wrinkling at the corners of his sharp eyes.
Great. Hina sighed.
She had never understood why, but Kaito had always seemed to have something against her. They fought often, easily pushing each other's buttons. But growing up, she always caught him looking at her with…disdain? Annoyance? Jealousy? She didn't know. Their personalities still clashed, even as adults, just a lot more subtly - behind forced smiles and brief conversations. Even though despite him and Hina both working as heroes, something that they had in common, they never really got along. Kaito took over their dad’s hero mantle as the Pro Hero Reverb. Working at the same top agency that her dad offered to get her a position at, but she declined, opting to follow her newfound morals of self-reliance. As she thought more about it, maybe they wouldn’t have clashed so much if Kaito didn’t have such a huge jagged stick up his a-
“Hina? Food?” Her mom repeated with a twinge of annoyance, waiting in the living room entryway with her phone in hand.
“Right. Sorry. Jet lag. Uhh…” She stalled for a moment, her nose scrunching in thought - a habit her mom recognized well.
“Well, after eating almost exclusively cheese and bread for the last few years, although delicious mind you-” She chuckled, reminiscing of the patisserie she visited most often in Paris. “But I am dying for just some classic Japanese Izakaya food. Maybe the one from around the corner? Ooh no, actually, the one that’s right by UA. Where I used to go for lunch sometimes? Their pork belly is better.” She asked hopefully.
“Done and done. Your usual, sweetheart?”
Hina nodded enthusiastically. Yuri switched her questioning gaze to her husband.
“Same for me.”
He mumbled, mid-sip. Yuri disappeared back into the kitchen to make the order, her voice becoming muffled background noise. Her dad grabbed the decanter of filtered water off the cart, and another glass of ice, handing the drink to his youngest child before making his way through the room.
“So, Bunny-” He sank down on his usual plush, beige armchair that sat off-center in the living room, letting out a huff as bones and muscles that had seen better days settled into place. He motioned for Hina to sit down on the couch next to him, clearly wanting to chat. She sat, relaxing into the cushions that felt like they could swallow her whole.
“Tell me everything.”
Over the next hour or so, Hina went into detail about her time abroad, consciously leaving out any unsavory experiences that she hoped her parents would never learn of. Particularly the new artistic addition to her body, sitting on her upper left thigh, purposefully hidden by dark leggings. What happened in Paris stayed in Paris. Her mom popped in and out, needing to step away for a moment to deal with last-minute work details, but her dad sat attentively, asking a well-placed question when needed. He was a man of few words, but he was always a great listener. That was probably the reason why Hina was such a rambler: she always had someone who listened.
As she was about to go into further detail about a dramatic villain encounter over La Seine, the front door opened again for the fourth time that evening. A booming voice reverberated through the halls of the penthouse.
“HEYO!” Kirito kicked off his shoes and threw his jacket where Hina had left hers earlier in the day. The mouthwatering aroma of fried food and grilled meats wafted throughout the room, making Hina all too aware of the emptiness of her stomach.
“I have Hina’s food order, now what are the rest of us eating?” He laughed, leaning around the corner into the living room holding up two overfilled plastic bags, packed to bursting with takeout containers. He had barely changed at all. His dark blue hair seemed longer, or just shaggier. He’d put on a little weight too, maybe, but he was still just as tall and broad-shouldered as their dad. He and Kaito were identical twins, but they definitely were easier to tell apart in adulthood.
“Haha, that was so funny the first twenty times you said it!” She grabbed one of the various decorative pillows next to her and launched it in her brother's general direction with the force of a baseball pitcher, narrowly missing his head.
“Oh, wow, and your aim still sucks! Thought they would’ve fixed that in ~Paris~” Doing a horrible French accent as he laughed himself out of the room, he walked to the kitchen to help arrange the food and say hi to their mom. Hina could not have rolled her eyes further back into her head, suddenly remembering some of the reasons why she had moved halfway across the world.
“You’re 24, Kiki! Grow up!” Hina yelled back, her brother clearly ignoring her as she was met with silence to the nickname she gave him since she was a toddler. Eiji stifled a brief chuckle with the remaining sip of his now watered-down drink. He never would’ve thought he’d have missed hearing his kids' fights echoing off the walls of their home.
A few minutes later, Yuri called them into the dining room. The table was set with plates, and covered with an array of open containers filled with fresh food. Hina was practically frothing at the mouth just looking at the spread, not having had authentic Japanese food in so long. She and her brother shared a half-hearted side hug before sitting down, the closest siblings would ever come to actually saying ‘I missed you’. Over the meal, Hina continued to tell of her Parisian escapades. Kirito shared anecdotes of patrons and staff at his bar in the heart of Musutafu, speaking about moving to ownership and finally putting that business and finance degree to use after turning his back on the idea of corporate life.
Kaito did not end up making it over, but she was slightly surprised to see a text from him before Kirito headed back home.
Welcome back, Hina. Good luck tomorrow.
Huh. Well, it was something.
Thanks, Kaito. Have a safe patrol.
She said her goodbyes, not without trading insults with her brother one more time. Only then did Hina realize how desperately she needed a long, hot bath. She bowed away from the front door to make her way back upstairs and into her ensuite bathroom. However, her hearing still picked up the tail end of her parents’ conversation as they saw Kirito off.
“I know but, seriously, what's with her hair ?” Hina heard him ask, making her spin around and grip the railing as she yelled back in exasperation. “I GET IT! IT’S BAD. GOD. ” She scoffed loudly for dramatic effect until she reached her bedroom. Slamming the door behind her, but not before hearing muffled snickers and chuckles from her family.
Hina practically melted into her large jacuzzi, keeping just her head above water as the steam seeped into every pore. The lavender bath salts and one lit candle created the most relaxing aromatic atmosphere.
After what felt like hours, Hina dried herself off and threw on whatever she could find from her cupboard: an old t-shirt with her dad’s previous hero insignias, and a pair of gym shorts that were definitely too small. She couldn’t have been bothered to go through her suitcases. She wiped off the condensation from the large backlit mirror, examining her reflection. Her gaze kept shifting back to the damp, uneven mop of hair on her head.
Okay, she had to admit. It was pretty bad.
Maybe she should have taken her mom up on her offer, but she was not about to admit that. Tapping her nails in thought against the porcelain sink, Hina tried to think of a way to fix it before tomorrow. She kneeled down and opened the cupboard under the sink, where half-empty shampoo bottles and stray bobby pins went to die, hoping a solution would present itself. Lo and behold, behind a bottle of unopened hairspray, she saw it: the plastic drugstore bag of hair supplies she had forgotten she’d bought before leaving. She pulled it out and opened it on the white tiled floor. Powdered bleach, developer, and… bubblegum pink hair dye. Well, that was definitely one way to make an impression. Although, people those days naturally had much crazier things going on with their hair just from their quirk alone. So, she decided.
Fuck it.
But, Hina was still missing one thing: a pair of scissors sharp enough for hairstyling, because it wasn’t just the color that was a problem. Quickly going to her shoulder bag and grabbing her tablet, Hina pulled up from her files a pair of scissors she had drawn. She made a few adjustments according to her references, then placed her hand palm down on the screen. A small spark of electrical energy burst from her hand as she pulled the scissors into the real world. Examining her work and giving them a few test snips, they seemed good to go. She made her way back to her bathroom, laying out all of her tools in front of her on the countertop. She leaned forward, hyping herself up as she grabbed the scissors to make the first cut. Her hand hesitated. She swiftly put the scissors back down and paced around the bathroom, letting out a frustrated grunt.
Come on Hina, you can do this.
She tried to convince herself, picking up the scissors again.
You know, it’s just like drawing. Kinda. Maybe more like sculpting. But either way, you just gotta make the first-
She impulsively just brought scissors to the long side of her hair and made a large, solid chop.
She stood there with a chunk of dead, bleached ends in one hand and the scissors in the other. Dropping the hair into the sink, there was no turning back now. Hina knew that with the already short regrowth from the shaved side of her head, she was going to have to go shorter all over. All in the hopes that it would grow out more evenly over time. A part of her was cursing the first time she had even gone to that Parisian salon and said to the stylists: “ amusez-vous ”.
Getting close to midnight, Hina put down the scissors next to the mess of loose hair and examined her work. First flipping her head forward to fluff it up with her hands. She looked in the mirror, her hand still playing with the new style.
Actually, it wasn’t too bad. Pretty cute in fact. It definitely was better than what she had before, shape-wise at least. It was a fluffy pixie cut. Spiked shorter pieces made up the back and sides, with a longer tuft on top parted to the side and draping dramatically to the front, curling naturally to frame her face.
The last thing to do was fix the mess of roots and various faded colors. She prayed to whoever would listen while mixing the bleach, watching a few videos to make sure she did it right. Holding her breath, she applied the thick paste. After another two hours, and a white towel stained pink, Hina braced herself as she looked in the mirror. She was greeted by the sight of pink, short hair. More rosy pink than the bright bubblegum the bottle had advertised, but she was a little relieved about that. It was softer and warmer, most likely due to the brassy yellow her hair had bleached to.
Unsure at first, her heart raced for a moment, wondering if what she did was somehow worse than before. But as she dried it and styled it with her brush, it quickly started to grow on her. A little patchy, sure, but not bad for her first try. She quickly went from like, to love, to this being the new Hina. The new Artiste, ready to show Japan what she was made of.
She switched off the lights in her bathroom, leaving the rest of the mess for future Hina to clean later. She tiptoed across the floor until she found her sun-shaped carpet, trying not to let her parents know she was still awake. Regardless of whether she was 21 years old, old habits die hard. Nerves suddenly bubbled up in her chest as the reality of being back and starting all over again really sunk in. The thoughts in her head spun nauseatingly as she swallowed the lump in her throat.
Hina settled in for the night, cozying up underneath the warm duvet, but felt the juvenile need to cling to her well-loved stuffed rabbit who was already waiting for her in bed. In the private comfort of her bedroom, with an almost maternal touch, she caressed the rabbit's head and tucked it under her arm. Gently rubbing the thin fabric of the ear in soothing circles, the same spot worn down from love over the years. Switching off her light and letting the city nightlife illuminate her window, she tried once more to calm the anxiety starting to cloud her mind about tomorrow.
Everything would be different again.
Still, she held on to the reassuring thought that if she had done it once, she could definitely do it again, especially in Musutafu with all her family and friends. In her city, in her home.
Despite having napped most of the day away, Hina was still exhausted enough to fall asleep quickly. Her mind drifting away with the thoughts of her hair being just the first of many new changes yet to come.
How exciting.