It starts as a thought, crawling around in the back of her mind. Anaru never thought it would surface so quickly until it brought her to the front door of a barbershop. She lets out a small sigh and steps in, making sure to tread lightly.
(After recent trials, she's learned that staying on your tiptoes is the best way to navigate through crises. She's also learning how to take her own advice.)
The door jingles as it swings back into place, the sound silent underneath blowdryers and small talk. A lady with clearly dyed, but tasteful, red hair approaches her with a wide smile, leads Anaru to a chair right next to the window, and soon she's hacking Anaru's long hair off.
"So, how old are you?" the barber asks, clipping Anaru's hair to the top of her head.
"I'm starting my last year of high school tomorrow," Anaru replies, staring steadfast at her reflection.
"Ah." The lady hums as she snips off a good six inches of hair, and that's the end of their conversation.
Anaru can hear the quiet snipping of the scissors as her hair falls to the ground. About two seats over, a hairdryer's roar quiets down, leaving some sort of static in Anaru's ears. She can't help but picture their faces when they see her.
Tsuruko will most likely raise her eyebrows with a hint of approval in her otherwise stoic smile, Poppo will laugh and ruffle up what's left of her hair, Jintan will smile and tell her she looks nice with that soft voice of his, and Yukiatsu… She doesn't know. She never knows when it comes to him.
Her barber sets down her tools on the counter in front of them and lifts Anaru's barber cloth. Anaru smiles at herself in the mirror, fidgeting around because of the air against her neck. She still has bright eyes and rosy, round cheeks and pink lips, but the hair, her hair, looks different.
And she feels different too as she grabs her purse and walks into the sidewalk.
As Anaru approaches the tree house, she walks with a destination, one foot in front of the other, heels practically slamming into the dirt, cherishing the way her neck can breathe now without the weight of her heavy hair. She carries her bag in one hand and snacks in the other, making it doubly worse when she crashes into someone's back. The force sends her reeling back and the bags fly out of her hands.
Anaru struggles to hold on to her newly gained confidence as Yukiatsu turns around, smile lit in the dim moonlight. He bends over and hands her the bags in one fluid motion. Luckily, nothing has spilled.
"Thanks," Anaru says, willing her voice to sound louder.
Yukiatsu silently nods in response. He tilts his head and his eyes scan over Anaru's head.
"What?" she says, snappy enough to yield his gaze, but quiet enough to keep from disrupting the cicadas. "Is there something wrong?"
Yukiatsu shakes his head, expression inscrutable. "I like your hair. It's cute," he says, tone even.
"Thank you." Anaru shoots him a lopsided glance as they trek up the hill to the others.
"What made you change it?" he asks, a dagger disguised as a question.
Anaru doesn't even pause, not one bit. "Well," she hums. I wanted to find something that would take root in the place where my confidence is supposed to be. I wanted to grasp on to a feeling of independence that I can't seem to uncover, no matter how long and hard I search. I wanted to try something new.
"I saw it in magazine and it seemed pretty."
Yukiatsu raises an eyebrow but doesn't press the matter any further.
Anaru isn't sure whether she's relieved or upset, but they've already arrived at the secret base and she pulls ahead of Yukiatsu, calls out to the rest of the group, and stops thinking.
"Liar."
She keeps herself from turning around and bites her bottom lip as she approaches Poppo, offering him the bag full of food. For the rest of the night, Yukiatsu remains quiet and Anaru is all fake smiles and cheers. They never exchange glances once.