A/N: Inspired by India.Arie's song "I Am Not My Hair". I was listening to it when I thought about how it would apply to a blonde in Japan, like Yamato. And bam! a fic was born! Enjoy!
An eight-year-old Yamato stood in front of the bathroom sink with an unopened bottle of black hair dye. He stared at the bottle with trepidation. His eyes filled with tears as he recalled the cruel words of the kids at school.
Gaijin.
It wasn't the first time he'd been called that. Kids had been teasing him since he'd started school. Even grown-ups gave him strange looks when he was out with his father. Just last week a woman had commented on how well he spoke Japanese, assuming that he was a foreigner.
He picked up the bottle. If he could get rid of his blonde hair, kids wouldn't tease him anymore. People would know he was Japanese. He turned the bottle around and read through the instructions again. Deciding that he'd be able to do it, he opened the bottle. Just as he was about to dip a strand of his hair to test the dye, a voice spoke up from the doorway.
"Yamato?" The blonde boy turned to face his father. "What are you doing?"
"N-nothing," he stuttered, hiding the bottle behind his back.
Masaharu gave his son a stern look. "Give it here."
Yamato obeyed and handed his father the bottle. The man read the label and raised an eyebrow. He turned back to his son. "You were trying to die you're hair? On your own?" The young boy nodded. "Do you realize how dangerous that is? You could have burned yourself!" Yamato hung his head.
Masaharu sighed and knelt down in front of his son. "Why were you trying to dye your hair, Yamato?"
"To be more Japanese," he whispered.
His father frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The kids at school, they call me gaijin. Everyone thinks I'm not Japanese." He glared at his reflection. "All because of my stupid hair!"
"Yamato," sighed Masaharu. He pulled his son into a hug. "Having blonde hair does not make you any less Japanese."
The boy sniffed. "But at school—"
"Ignore them. Yamato, your hair doesn't determine who you are. It doesn't matter what you look like on the inside. It's what's inside that counts."
Yamato looked at his father. "But I'm so different…"
Masaharu smiled. "Different isn't always bad, Yamato. Just wait, in a few years the girls will be all over you for your blonde hair."
The young boy stuck out his tongue. "Why would I want that?"
His father laughed. "You'll see." He stood up. "How about I order pizza for dinner?"
Yamato grinned. "Sounds great."
"Oh, and Yamato?" His father held the bottle in front of his son. "No more hair dying attempts, okay?"
A sixteen-year-old Yamato signed into his email account, only to find 500 new messages waiting for him. He sighed. He was going to have to change his email address again. He didn't know how his fans kept finding his email address, but it was getting ridiculous.
Is that India?
He smiled as the song started, only to frown when it was cut short. He turned around. "Taichi!"
"What?" his best friend asked, retracting his hand from CD player.
"Put it back!" he demanded.
"Fine! Don't bite my head off." He turned the CD back to the previous song. "What is this anyway?"
Yamato smiled. "I Am Not My Hair."
See, even I can be inspirational. Hope you liked. Please review! And by the way, gaijin means foreigner.