Tightening the plastic bag around her head, Kagome dipped under the awning of the produce stand, shaking the excess water off the bag as she pulled a pen out of her purse, intent on twisting it through her hair.
A flash of electric red caught her eye, and she looked up to find Taisho staring at her, clad in a dark raincoat covered in crimson plum blossoms. His head tilted to the side as curiosity shone in his amber eyes. "Oh, hello. Did you leave your shopping until the last minute too?"
He reached toward her, and Kagome shifted sideways, assuming he was looking for something behind her, but he caught a lock of her hair, keeping her in place. He twisted it side to side, then inspected the ends, and the proximity had Kagome inhaling the earthy scent of his cologne.
At least, she assumed it to be his cologne. There's no way that scent was coming from him.
"You do not take care of it."
She flushed, realizing she'd been staring. "It's been a while since I've had it cut, I suppose."
Taisho shook his head, her hair still trapped between his fingers. "It is beyond fried. Likely from using a flat iron every day without the proper precautions." Her hands shot to her head, and she groaned at the feel of frizzy waves under her fingers. Clearly, she hadn't done as good a job covering herself between vendors and overhangs. "Why do you hide the fact that you have curly hair?" he asked, finally stepping back.
She pursed her lips and gave him a sideways glance, then sighed. There was no point in lying about it now. "Because it's expected," she replied. "My grandmother on my mother's side was a foreigner, and Mama always ran into trouble because everyone thought she didn't speak the language. Or was a gang member. They thought she curled it out of spite."