I used to hate it. I really hated every inch of it. I'd tell her to cut it, because I hated it. I wouldn't tell her I hated it, I told her it was too long, but I did. I didn't even know why I hated it. I know now. I was young. Whenever I saw her, my immediate reaction to what it made me feel was to get rid of that feeling, sever the cause of it.
The first time I saw her with her hair loose, she had come in late for class. I guess she'd slept late, and didn't have time to do it. The next time I saw her, she had it back up. After that, I hated the braids. Why did she always have to braid it? I started getting used to the feeling, instead of hating it, accepting it. I wouldn't tell anyone, though. The last thing they needed was another thing to pick on me for.
It was two years before I saw it down again. She had gotten better at tennis, and had just finished a match. She let her hair down and dipped her head underneath a faucet, I guess cooling herself down. She splashed her face, as well, and the water ran down her neck. I'd bitten my lip and looked away. My heart was racing most uncomfortably. I had walked away, quickly. I think I was blushing, at the time.
We'd started dating, soon after that. I had tutored her in English, and started going to her house constantly. After a few months, she kissed me, and I guess that was it. We were a couple. It didn't take me long to realize the appeal of having a girlfriend. She was wonderful. I just wish Oyaji hadn't cheered me on so well.
I never asked her to take down her hair. I never told her how much I liked it. But I did make sure to tell her not to cut it. The first time she let it down after we got together, was right after school one day. She'd had a headache. Although I never told her how much I liked her hair, I think she realized it after that. She let it down a lot more often, after that. Sometimes I'd get mad, and avoid her. She could control me, and she knew it, and I hated that. But she would make it up to me.
Near the end of school she started wearing it in a twist, with three clips, so most of her hair was twisted up. I always took it down when I was with her, and she would laugh.
We got married soon after school. She was beautiful. I couldn't think of a day when I'd been happier.
Now, as I walk into the kitchen, and set my things on the table, I walk behind her has she cooks, letting myself bury my face in her hair. She was humming softly to herself, and she sighs when she feels me behind her.
"Welcome home, Ryoma."
I smile, and kiss her.
A/N: This is actually the second PoT story I wrote, after 'Honor' They both suck pretty bad if you ask me. Especially the title for this one, bleh. Oh well, I needed to post it, it was, like, molding on my hard drive. Hope ya'll like it!