It's a little odd to be standing here before him, a little awkward too, more awkward than Shirayuki had expected. Her hair was her hair; it had gotten her into more trouble than she could count, ever since she was little, and yet, it's here that it feels most vulnerable, the most personal. She feels as if she's just unveiled a part of her that she should have kept hidden.
She had all but jumped at the thought of seeing her friend again after so long when Izana had mentioned it back in Clarines, had remembered that promise, an easy little thing, so suddenly, but she hadn't anticipated just the way she'd feel, with her long, red hair falling down her back. Today, there is no ribbon, and that's both intentional and an almost regret she holds in her heart.
If she wore a ribbon like back then, it would feel like the moments right before she cut her red hair off, the moments of a fought for and striking decision, a new choice that would forever impact where she ended up. She still doesn't regret cutting her hair that day, though she'd kind of missed the beautiful red fullness of it, the way it fell down her back and used to keep her warm on cold nights, the way it shone under the sunlight, the way she could see it and be reminded, not of its color or even of her life, but something gentler. There's something reassuring about long hair, and she still doesn't have words for it.
She doesn't miss the way that it was so hard to cover up, if she were to try to hide it, but she only hid it occasionally back then. It wasn't meant as a sign for the world or something that transforms life in the most unimaginable ways, just as something a little more personal. Her grandmother used to run a brush through it, and sometimes she'd even braid it back. She'd told her once that Shirayuki almost looked like her mother, that young girl that had married her grandmother's son. The one who as her grandmother could talk was absolutely incredible, and Shirayuki'd always held that like a compliment against her chest or perhaps a secret to be cherished.
And yet, back then, there was no hesitation. She could forge her own kind of future or at least try to, and still, it feels more vulnerable than all of the times that she'd never thought to cover it up, standing before Raji right now, being met with his absolute silence and not knowing what to do about that.
But silence is something that can be broken, even if it is a little bit hard to break.
"Wow." Raji swallows, and he doesn't look like a prince before her despite his fancy clothes, he looks as speechless as Shirayuki feels, "It's beautiful." He reaches one hand up, but doesn't touch her hair, just drops it finally, stunned before her.
"Thank you." Shirayuki sways side to side, debating a full turn, debating showing him the way her hair looks when she moves, but a little unsure. Zen's seen her hair grow so slowly over time that his surprise at it all was minute, just a slow realization, the progress slowly watched. Raji didn't get that, not at all, this is the first time they'd seen each other in so long.
"It's more beautiful now." Raji says on a whim, as if thinking of her red hair that he'd once received with a pretty light purple bow, "I mean..." Raji is at another loss for words, words that don't come easily if at all.
"It's more beautiful on me?" Shirayuki suggests, though the words feel like lead weights in her throat, and she spins finally, shows the full length of her red hair, and Raji watches it like a man mesmerized by the sunset.
"Y-Yeah." Raji swallows again, trying to regain his footing perhaps, "You're so beautiful. I, that's not the right way to put it, is it?" His eyes have gone wide, and his hands shake beside him, like he's still struggling for the right words and worried that his are coming out wrong.
"I'm more beautiful than my hair?" She's trying to put together what he means, but the words are so surprising, that they feel like the spark of starlight on her tongue.
"Well, yeah." Raji pauses, looking lost, "I mean, you are beautiful as a whole, Shirayuki. You are beautiful for more than your hair, I'm sorry I didn't realize that when we first met." Raji is still stumbling over his words, but the genuine honesty in them catches her by surprise, the first spark of light in the morning.
"Thank you." Shirayuki is stunned; these words she did not expect from Raji, hadn't expected from anybody either, "It's okay." She dimly remembers an apology from somewhere in his almost mini speech.
"It's true." Raji blinks, "Do you no longer tie it up?"
"I usually do?" Shirayuki tries, "I didn't today."
"Here." Raji runs to a room and pulls out a bow; somehow she both expected her old purple one or something completely different. It's red and long, curling around his arm, but he offers it anyway.
Instead of taking it, Shirayuki turns around and lets him pull her hair up. His hands aren't as steady as her grandmother's once were, but he manages okay.
It's like a veil being pulled back into place, and when Shirayuki turns around to face him, Raji's hands are still in place, and he watches her again as if the sun just came up. And Shirayuki wonders how a moment so beautiful could come from two people who used to be so at odds.
"Thank you." She says instead.
"No problem." Raji smiles, and he looks awkward and surprised, and Shirayuki feels that steady warmth in her chest. There's a new beginning here, and yet it doesn't feel like the runaway moment she feared with her hair tied back, but something gentle like the bond between two people stitched so closely together. She thinks of her grandmother who sometimes would braid her hair, and she thinks of family, but she also thinks there is something special about the two of them here.
And Shirayuki knows somehow that within this new beginning, it doesn't leave behind the past, the building up of their friendship slowly, the forgiveness that took time to bring together. Instead, it's something built on that but also entirely new. Shirayuki smiles.
