A/N: I wrote this for iyfic contest on LJ ages ago, but I don't know why I never posted it here. I think it's because I'm not too proud of it, but I wanted to share anyway.
I have been lacking in inspiration lately. A dear friend of mine was killed on the 17th and all of my will to write has been taken over by depression and heartache, so I'm going through my computer and posting anything that I haven't posted before.
V.
EDIT: Changed screwed up formatting.
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Kagome had a hard time really remembering how things were before her father died. Things came in bits and pieces; it had happened when she was so young it really wasn't a surprise. The few memories of him that she did have she held close to her heart, like watching reruns of the American television show MASH with him and her grandpa or watching her dad cook leeks and rice when her mother was ill. Her favorite memory was when he would play with her hair.
Sometimes he would put up her hair before she went to school. He always liked to do braids with little bows. She remembered how he would run the brush through her hair with such care and gentleness to avoid pulling on any knots and making her cry. He used to always laugh when it would fall out of place before he could get the elastic secured, telling her that she was lucky to have had his fine thin hair because she sure didn't get it from her mother.
When he finally had her hair the way he wanted it he would always top it off with ribbons and bows of every shape and color of the rainbow, whatever coordinated with her little outfit that day. After he finished tying the bow he would kiss her on the forehead and tell her she looked beautiful and ready for the day.
On the day that he died he put her hair up that morning like usual, a side ponytail with a dainty pink bow to match her dress. She was in the kitchen with her mother when they got the call and knew something was wrong from the look on her mother's face when she lay the phone back on the cradle. Even though her mother and grandfather didn't think she understood, she knew she wouldn't see her father again. That night she had flat out refused to take the bow out. She knew her daddy was gone and wouldn't be able to ever put bows in her hair and tell her she was beautiful ever again, she didn't want that last little bit of him to disappear.
The next morning she woke up and found that her mother must have taken out the bow as she slept as it wasn't there anymore. All that day she cried. When it was time for the funeral her mother tried to put a bow in her hair but she would have no part of it since it wasn't her daddy carefully placing it in her hair and kissing her on the forehead.
A week after the funeral she finally threw the box of ribbons and bows away, the brush too, though she still sat down in the evenings to watch MASH with grandpa.