"Your hair!" Elfe cried, dismayed, once they finally had a minute to themselves.
"It'll grow back," Sephiroth said with a shrug. He hoped it would. His hair had always grown quickly, but he'd had it long his entire life. Having the bloodied ends swinging around his neck and shoulders was deeply unpleasant, but it had had to be done. Still, he got the feeling Elfe was more upset about it than he was.
"It's bleeding!" she insisted, flailing slightly. "How do you keep hair from bleeding?! Hair. Should. Not. Bleed!"
"It doesn't hurt," he told her. "It's no worse than a papercut." A lot of papercuts all at once.
"Your hair is bleeding," she repeated fervently. Unable to offer an explanation that she would accept, Sephiroth gathered her close. If he were honest, he needed the hug as badly as she did.
"The Professor tried to cut my hair once when I was very young," he said into her hair. "He trimmed my bangs first and...well...I'm sure you can imagine."
"You started screaming bloody murder because it hurt and everyone else was freaked out enough that they didn't try it again."
"Pretty much."
Elfe sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Every time I think I've got you figured out…"
"Yes, well, you knew you were going out with a freak of nature," Sephiroth reminded her with a wry smile. Standing on her toes, Elfe stretched and kissed it away.
"You are weird, but you are not a freak of nature. Not anymore."
He did not argue with her.
Sephiroth did his best to soldier on for the rest of the day. Elfe kept casting him rather forlorn looks and everyone else just stared as they were dragged around and shown the surviving cultural sites. He could have suffered the attention well enough, but the constant sting of the severed ends of his hair as it brushed against his shoulders was distracting. With the ragged ends smearing blood across his new pale gray uniform, he knew he must look a mess. The frequent flash of cameras on every side was proof enough of that.
Although she dared not take his hand, Elfe walked closer enough to let her knuckles brush his. It was something.
"You can't go on like that," Rufus told him as they sat down to eat lunch. "I appreciate you taking one for the team, but that looks like it hurts."
Sephiroth shrugged carefully. "I'm alright."
Elfe gave him a dubious look.
"There's nothing to be done about it," he insisted. "A bad haircut never killed anybody."
About then, another flashbulb exploded at close range. Sephiroth started, almost upsetting the table, calmed only by Elfe's hand on his arm. He blinked and shook his head, trying to clear the spots from his vision.
"What on Gaia…?" he began.
"Cheese!" A small voice exclaimed, Polaroid at the ready. Inwardly, Sephiroth groaned and braced himself for the imminent flash.
"Your Highness," Rufus' voice had a longsuffering edge to it. "I was unaware you'd be joining us."
"Dad said I could."
Once the colored splotches had disappeared, Yuffie, the Crown Princess of Wutai's, smug smile became all too visible. At twelve years old, she was still a child, but carried herself like an adult. Without further comment, she dropped down next to Rufus and helped herself to their food.
"We are honored by your presence," Rufus said, reciting the correct niceties.
"Uh-huh," Yuffie replied, slurping noodles. "You talk to my dad out of our engagement yet?"
"Weirdly enough, no," Rufus grumbled. "I would have thought that would be the first thing to go, but apparently not."
Yuffie slapped her bowl on the table top. "You're kidding me!"
"Afraid not," Rufus shrugged. "Sorry."
Yuffie muttered something in Wutaian that was not befitting a princess, much less a twelve-year-old.
"Our new president isn't that bad," Sephiroth said, with a sly smile. "You could do worse."
Yuffie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Ew, no! Grossness! He's an old man!"
Strangely, Rufus smiled. "You know, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Princess. Normally everyone likes to remind me that nineteen is still a kid."
Yuffie stuck her tongue out at him. Elfe stifled a giggle with one hand. Sephiroth just smiled.
"Sign this," Yuffie demanded, shoving one of the Polaroid photos at Sephiroth. It was a distinctly unflattering shot which he fully expected to see all over every newspaper and tabloid the following morning. He had half a mind to lean Elfe back in a tango hold and kiss her in the middle of the town square if only to give the media something else to fuss about.
Rufus produced a gold pen and Sephiroth dutifully signed the offensive photo. Yuffie grabbed it and admired her trophy.
"You look really stupid," she grinned.
"Thank you, your highness," Sephiroth replied, not knowing what else to say. Yuffie rolled her eyes.
"You need a haircut," she announced. "A real haircut. You could go to the same place I get my hair done. They do a really good job."
Her impish grin did not inspire much confidence, but she was right. Every time the severed ends of his hair brushed against his shoulders, the scabs tore off, sending a fresh cascade of blood all over his uniform.
"Alright," he agreed. After all, what did he have to lose?
Sephiroth had been expecting a practical joke from the princess and he was not disappointed. Immediately after lunch, she'd dragged him- and Elfe by association- to the hairdressers. A long line of young women sat waiting on the wooden patio outside.
"Is this a brothel?" Elfe hissed, eyeing the girls lounging sleepily in the sun like so many spoiled cats.
"They're geisha," Sephiroth corrected. "Musicians, artists, and dancers."
"And why did the princess bring us to a geisha beauty parlour?"
Sephiroth set his jaw grimly as Yuffie pulled him inside. "I supposed we'll find out."
The geisha waiting in line shrieked in protest and then realized who it was that had barged to the front. At once they bowed low before their princess, all the while sneaking glances at the famed Demon of Wutai.
Inside, more than a dozen geisha sat in varying stages of torture. Some were bent double, having their scalps scrubbed in wooden tubs of cold water, while others fought not to scream as combs dipped in hot wax were dragged through their hair. Yuffie hauled him over to one of the washing stations amid protests from the next woman in line.
"My deepest apologies," Sephiroth told her in Wutaian. "I am bidden by her Highness." He flipped the ragged edge of his cropped hair with one finger. "This should not take long."
The woman blinked and bowed, shuffling back a bit on her knees. The elderly hairdresser seemed surprised to have a bulky young man shoved in front of him. Without his iconic black coat and knee-length silver-white hair, Sephiroth was not as recognizable as he had been. Indeed, it took the stylist a moment to realize who he was.
As soon as recognition dawned, he inclined his head and took up his position. "If the honored General would dip his head in the water?"
Sephiroth waited for a towel to be draped around his shoulders before doing as he was told. Sephiroth had never been to a barber, and if this was what he'd been missing, he did not regret it. The hairdresser's nails scratched savagely against his scalp, and the water felt as if it had recently melted off the Da Choa ice flow. When at last he was permitted to come up for air, the stylist produced a wooden comb and a pair of scissors.
He felt the bite of the scissors, but not the pain, his head too numbed by the icy water. Not until the third or fourth snip did feeling return, and with it blood. A gasp went up from the rest of the salon. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and had fixed their attention on him. The stylist gave a shout as blood seeped from the freshly cut hair. Sephiroth just sat there, scalp smarting and blood running down his face.
At once the barber waved his compatriots over. Three of them came and gathered around him, their rapid speech and city dialect making their conversation difficult to follow. It took them a minute to agree on a plan. Once they had, one of them pushed his shoulders forward and Sephiroth stuck his head in the tub of cold water again. The cold chapped his ears, but was soothing to his abused hair. The stylist held him there for several minutes before pulling him back up and carefully patting his hair dry.
"Ready… Set... Go!"
All four of them fell on him at once. It took all the willpower Sephiroth could muster not to move, not to blink. It wasn't the pain so much, he'd had far worse, but the quartet of Wutaians gathered around him with their tiny opposable blades that made it difficult to keep his seat. They pushed his head down into the tub again. Hot blood met cold water, staining it pink. When he surfaced again, Elfe knelt in front of him.
She didn't say anything, didn't even offer a sympathetic smile. All she did was sit and lock eyes with him, holding his gaze so that he could not look away. Sephiroth took in her own short hair, her dazzling blue eyes, the perfectly neutral expression on her face. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to mirror it. The barbers dunked him again, and though his face was not underwater, Sephiroth found himself holding his breath. Not until Elfe was visible again did he release it. She was right there. She would not let this get out of hand, let it go too far. She had his back as well as his heart. He could do this.
They plunged his head into the tub one more time, and carefully patted his hair with a clean, dry towel. Sephiroth had expected the shearing to continue, but all four of the hairdressers stepped back and bowed- probably to each other, it was only because he was sitting in the middle of their informal circle that it looked as if they were bowing to him. Only then did he notice the click and whir of cameras, the bright pop of flashbulbs, and the polite patter of applause echoing inside the low, wooden building.
He couldn't help flinching as Yuffie snapped another photograph inches from his nose.
"You look better," she told him, and shoved the still developing photograph at him. Taking it, Sephiroth watched his own face appear, a slight wince creasing his features. That was the only thing he recognized. They'd cut his hair as short a Loz's, though it did not stick up the same way. He did not look like himself, and without the screen of his bangs, he felt exposed and naked. Without a word, he handed the photo back to her. Yuffie held it up next to the earlier picture.
"I'm going to call these 'Before' and 'After'!" she declared. Despite himself, Sephiroth smiled.
Alas, dear readers, I have sad news to report. Silver Elite may soon have to change its name. Our beloved Silver General has made a grave personal sacrifice in the name of peace.
You may recall that Sephiroth and his beloved, Commander Elfe Verdot, are at present accompanying President Rufus Shinra on a diplomatic envoy to Wutai. It was Emperor Godo who wished to renegotiate terms with Shinra's new corporate head, and he asked particularly that Sephiroth attend as well. There is no love lost between Wutai and Shinra. This is understandable given that a staggering number of their people died directly by the hand of Shinra's legendary trio: Colonels Hewley, Rhapsodos, and of course the legendary General Sephiroth.
One might well be nervous that Emperor Godo might wish to exact vengeance for every drop of blood spilt. General Sephiroth, however, submitted humbly when the Emperor named the price of his retribution: the tail of the Silver Demon.
Before king and courtiers, Sephiroth cut off his own hair and presented it to the Emperor. With this token of apology it seems all has been forgiven, at least as far as hard feelings are concerned. Much remains to be sorted out in the boardroom between Midgar and Wutai's respective leaders, but international politics are not the focus of this post.
Sephiroth has proven his mettle yet again if the flood of unflattering photos on the front page of every newspaper and magazine are any indication. If this has upset the equanimity of our dear General, it is not apparent. He has born this humiliation with dignity and grace, as one would expect from such a legend.
What will not be appearing any time soon- as the photo of his sadly severed hair is much more sensational- is this handsome shot of the Silver General sporting his new look. (Pictured below.) While we will all miss his nearly six feet of flowing silver tresses, we must follow his example and deprive ourselves for the greater good. One must admit, Sephiroth can make anything look good, including this new unromantic, yet surely more practical hairstyle.