It was near the time of year when the cherry blossoms first bloomed. That day was particularly warm and so Arima didn't act as harsh as other days. I could almost swear that I saw a glimmer of a smile, but it had disappeared when I looked again.

I was reading a new book when I felt something touch my head. I looked up to see his hand as he inspected the ivory locks. He looked at the hairs as if they were a disgrace and opened his mouth to speak his disdain.

"Isn't it about time that you got a haircut. You look like a homeless man," He mumbled. I put my bookmark between the pages and I set the book down. He always became aggravated when I did not give him my full attention.

"I am kind of homeless," I replied.

"No. You live here and I expect you to look presentable. This is a command and you will obey." He walked out of the room with his arms crossed. It went a lot better than it would be a different day. Thank you, spring heat.

I slid the book back into the bookshelf. I'll have to get back to it later. It was at a good part. I walked to the bathroom and pulled open the drawer with the scissors. I was sort of hoping to grow out my hair, but it's an order. I pulled the scissors out and examined the sharp edges. They looked old, but they should work.

Then my eye caught something else; A box of hair coloring. I pulled it out and flipped it over to check the expiration date. It was relatively new.

After setting down the items, I went to the kitchen and found Arima sitting at the table. A stack of paperwork was in front of him so I was a bit hesitant to speak.

"Arima…"

"What is it, child?" He asked in his monotone voice. He shuffled the papers.

"I was wondering if you could tell me why you had hair dye."

"Is that a question or a statement?" I straightened my glasses and took a deep breath.

"A question."

"It was a statement," He says. Of course I knew that, I was just hoping that the conversation would end quicker if he simply accepted it as a question.

"A request."

"Request is the word. Fine, Suzuya wanted to color his. He insisted on doing it at my house because he was going to try to convince me to color mine as well." I tried to imagine Arima with black hair but I couldn't. It was too sharp of a contrast.

"O-Okay," I said. "Sir, Do you think that I could use it?"

"Why would you want to?" He asked. He looked over from his paperwork and settled his gaze upon my anxious countenance.

"Well, there aren't many people with white hair. Other than you that is! That's not to say you weird or odd or nobody. It's just that I sort of stand-"

"It's fine," He interrupted me. "As long as you don't color your hair some odd color like scarlett, I don't care."

I nodded my head.

"Thank you so much."

"No problem, child." He looked back to his papers and I knew that our conversation was over. I practically stumbled back to the bathroom and began the strenuous task of both cutting and coloring. I found that I wasn't not so bad at either, but the cutting is a lot easier.

-A bit over an hour later-

I came out of the bathroom. My hair was shorter, it was to my ears. At the top of my head it looked as if my roots had grown out, if my roots were indeed black like most Japanese. It was a sharp contrast, but it was nice.

Arima wasn't too surprised, but he did give me a questioning glance. I smiled at him.

"It reminds me of something. I don't know what. Maybe flowers?"

"Dandelions perhaps, but those aren't flowers," He replied.

"No. It's definitely a flower that it reminds me of. A beautiful one, but I can't remember the name for the life of me. It's a flower that's as bright and warm as the sun."

"It's called a sunflower." He said. My eyes widened with realization. I remembered.

"It is a sunflower isn't it? I'm so glad."

It was a warm day right before the cherry blossoms were to bloom. The sun beamed down on the people below, and many couldn't help but smile.