So I was thinking, why was Midori's hair green when everybody's hair was, well, normal?


Granted, it was rather eyecatching – and Midori was rather sure that if she walked meekly past Seiji (if she could even work up that particular iota of courage to do so) – she would most definitely get his attention. He would look. He might even think that she was a girl of his type!

Still, it was an exceptionally stupid thing to do.

Especially when one considered just where she attended her classes.

(Well, Midori was quite sure her mum would agree to it. After all, mama was all about love and freer love.)

But if would catch the eyes and attentions of people. It would, it would.

So she bit her lip, counted her money, put on a dress and left her big mansion to catch a bus to the city.


Kanazawa Izumi had never seen a girl like this.

"Are you quite sure?", she could not help blurting out when the dark haired girl in front of her had simply closed the Book (the Book, the Book where small twists of coloured hair and pretty girl's cuts went into for customers to peruse) and carefully, quietly stated her wish.

"I am quite sure," the girl had admitted quietly, carefully and lifted her head to stare at old Izumi's sagged face.

The hairstylist's brows had shot up so far, they'd disappeared into her twisting wire hair.

"Alright!" she said. (Boyfriend? Family issues? First rebellion? Pft, youth these days.) "Take a seat. It'll hurt, y'know. I'll need to bleach the black outta your hair. Your hair's too dark, y'see? And since it's gonna be … well, really, really light, it'll take a while and a stron –"

Izumi decided there wasn't any need for her to prattle on when she saw the glaze over her young customer's eyes.

To her credit, she didn't twist or move or even jerk under Izumi's administrations of goopy old peroxide. Instead, the dark haired girl had simply closed her eyes and went away to a little world of her own, one hand folded primly atop the other as she breathed evenly, waiting for the hours to draw longer and a new shade come to her short tresses.


"Oh, Midori …"

Kouta's voice had thinned into a gasp.

She slipped her fingers through the green, combing them tightly to the side of her face.

"Well, at least my hair matches my name now, neh?"

&end.&