I think Yuki is probably seven or younger in this story, but it really doesn't matter.
Disclaimer: I do not own Fruits Basket or its characters, and make no profit from this work. All rights go to Natsuki Takaya.
Yuki's mother struck him across the face. "Yuki, you ungrateful child! Don't you realize how honored you should be to have Akito-san ask this of you?"
A few people looked up from their magazines at the mother and young boy, surprised by the public abuse. The two were waiting for Yuki's appointment with the hair stylist, and little Yuki didn't want to be there.
"I d-don't want my hair to look like Akito's, Mother." He didn't want to be like Akito. He knew that he felt drawn to Akito and whenever he would open his arms, Yuki would gladly go into them, glad to be invited. But he didn't want to be like Akito; he wanted to be Yuki. But who was that? What type of person was he?
"Don't be disobedient, Yuki. Sit down and be quiet. You're shaming me with your behavior." His mother turned away from him, staring at a place on the far wall, ignorant of her son's silent tears.
A few minutes later, a woman with brightly colored glasses and blue-streaked hair entered. "Sohma Yuki?"
His mother stood up, taking her son's hand in an iron grip that was meant to look loving to anyone watching although it was severe and unfeeling to the boy it led.
He sat in the chair as directed, listening as his mother described what was to be done, before returning back to her seat to wait.
"You're so adorable, you know that?" the woman said as she brought a plastic covering and secured it behind his neck. "Where did you have your hair dyed? It's a good job; looks natural."
"It is natural," Yuki said quietly.
"Oh," she said, spraying water on his hair and running a comb through it. "Well, that's… strange. I've never seen natural silver hair on some one so young."
Yuki didn't respond. She'd called him strange. Akito had said people would think he was strange not too long ago.
She tilted his face up and studied his hair for a minute before she began cutting, humming under her breath.
Under the plastic, Yuki clenched his small fists, wincing as the sound of the scissors clipped away one more piece of who he was and molded him further into who Akito thought he should be.
OoOoO
Later that night, Yuki was in his bedroom at the main house staring at his new haircut in a mirror. When Akito had first seen it, he had smiled and touched Yuki's hair with affection. "There. See, my Yuki? Now you completely belong to me. You're mine." Akito had walked around him looking at it. "I wonder… If I didn't want you, then who would?" Yuki had been told that he could go, and he'd gone into his bedroom, thankful that Akito hadn't made him sit in the dark room that night.
Now, without taking his eyes away from the reflection, Yuki tentatively touched his hair. He didn't like it. It made him look like Akito, and that made him want to reject the reflection. Reject himself. It was strange, the way he felt about Akito. He wanted to be near to him, but at the same time run as far away as he could. Akito was the only one who would really speak with him, and notice him, but none of the things Akito spoke about were things Yuki wanted to hear. All the same, it made him happy that some one wanted to talk with him, and that made him cling to the times when it happened even if the words that Akito said only made him want to cry.
However much Yuki was captivated by and drawn to Akito, he didn't want to be like him. Yuki put down the mirror and dug into his school bag, finding the scissors that he kept there. He propped the small mirror on his bed and sat in front of it, scissors in hand.
"If I change it just a little, Akito won't notice," he said aloud.
He gripped the hair on the right side of his face and carefully cut it shorter than the left side. At that moment the door to his room slid open. "Yuki, I—" Akito's voice broke off when he saw what Yuki was doing.
Yuki knew it was too late, but he tried to hide the scissors behind his back. "A- Akito."
"What were you doing, Yuki?" His voice was soft and dangerous. Yuki always feared this tone; it meant that something painful would happen.
"I- I was only looking at my new haircut."
Akito came closer, picking up the shorter right side, his eyes furious. "You cut your hair, didn't you?"
Yuki's hands shook and he found that he couldn't speak for the fear.
Akito's grip tightened in Yuki's hair painfully, his fingernails digging into the young boy's scalp. He leaned closer and said quietly into Yuki's ear, "What gave you the idea that you could go against my wishes? I think you need to be reminded of your place, don't you?" Akito straightened, looked Yuki in the face and asked again at a normal level of voice, "Don't you think?"
"Please, Akito…" Yuki said, his voice trembling. "Please don't make me go back into that room."
Akito didn't pay attention to his plea, and set off at a quick pace dragging Yuki behind him.
But it didn't matter as much as it would have otherwise. Some small part of him rejoiced. He wasn't like Akito. He was Yuki. He'd proven that to himself. For that reason, and as a constant reminder, he would keep his hair this way.
See? A reason. Yuki just seems too orderly (despite that he doesn't like cleaning) to have uneven hair without a reason. Now there's a reason. What did you think? Did it make sense? Please leave a review and let me know!