Dear squirt,
By the time you get this letter, it should have been a week. Assuming you're still alive, and Kakashi didn't misplace you.
Michi bets that you've stopped crying by now. I think you need another solid week, because, uh, we're amazing and you miss us ;0
Aunt Mikoto is asking if you're eating. Does… she even know you? Remember to chew, choking is the number one cause of death for gluttonous shortcakes. I've done you the favor and convinced your dad to not mail you things that mice and feathered things will most certainly find first.
Itachi's still gone on his mission, so on his behalf, I send his very articulate, all comprehensive, epitome of social eloquence, "Hi".
Alrighty, don't keep us in suspense. Tell us all about your adventure.
Love,
Your favorite cousin,
The Majestic Shisui
.
"Watch it!"
"Sorry! Sorry!"
I stepped to the side. Cart wheels screeched to a halt. The driver cursed. Yelping, I bumped into a different vendor. Pottery shook on the shelves.
"Oi, careful, you break, you buy!"
I held up my hands. "Sorry!" I said, backing away.
At the next intersection, I turned to get off the crowded main street. I breathed.
"Hey-o, good sir! Hello, ma'am. Hey, hey girl! Girl!"
I stopped.
Sitting on the steps, between a pile of trash and unfinished construction, was a man with a chin of stubble.
I pointed to myself to confirm he was talking to me.
Grinning, he held out a stone jar. "Spare a bill?"
I jumped. "Oh! Um…" I patted for my wallet. "Here you go!" I said, putting in a bill.
He looked at his jar, a bit surprised.
"You got another one?" he asked, holding the jar back out.
I gave him another one.
"You got another one?"
I gave him another one.
"You got another one?"
Pouting, I put in my fifty-ryou bill.
"Ha!"
"You're welcome!" I said, sticking out my tongue. He was too busy counting to reply.
I went down the road, turning again at the next intersection. This street was wider but no less busy. Power lines criss-crossed. Signs hung everywhere, filled with advertisements and telephone numbers.
One of the building windows slid open. I noticed someone in a fancy suit standing below, obliviously looking at a shop display.
"Ah! Look out!"
I pushed the mister out of the way. Unfortunately, I didn't get out in time and got the full dump of dirty dishwater.
The window above slid shut.
The mister finally reacted. Sending me a suspicious look, he clutched his suitcase and backed away into the crowd.
"You're welcome," I grumbled, flipping back my wet braid.
When I arrived at the dance studio, the students shrinked away from me. They pinched their noses or made grossed out expressions. More and more students broke out of formation, trying to avoid my wet footprints.
The music stopped with a click. Finger over the boombox, Teacher Wai waited for me to sneak into my usual spot.
"Sorry," I squeaked.
I cursed my luck. Of all the days to be late, I picked a day when Teacher Wai was teaching. Teacher Wai was the most important teacher at the school after Teacher Ekkusu.
Worse, I had been late to her class before—it had been my first day, and I had gotten lost. It didn't leave a good impression.
"Apologize after you're dead," Teacher Wai said, making some shooing gesture that I didn't understand.
She clicked the button to the boombox and resumed the class.
After dance lessons, I went off to lunch. Without my dad, I no longer had homemade meals. Thankfully, the dance building was on a street with lots of food vendors. My favorite was the dumplings stand across the street, because every bowl of dumplings came in a savory broth with a soft-boiled egg. It always left me feeling full, which not all meals did.
I counted my change. I looked at the dumpling prices. Huffing, I went for the vending machine in the school building instead.
I went to the school's canteen and found an empty seat by the window. I unwrapped the plastic around my onigiri.
A nearby table of students were speaking louder than they thought they were.
"... braids with ribbons? Just how much more countryside can you get..."
"... never heard of jazz. What serious dancer doesn't know..."
"... family must have bought her way in. No way Teacher Ekkusu…"
"... seen her arm?"
I curled in, chewing on my onigiri. I looked out the window, pretending to not hear, so no one would get embarrassed.
The evening hours were for extra practice. All the smaller studios were already taken, mostly by groups of three or four students focusing on a piece of choreography. Anyone could use any room, and the rule was to share, but it didn't feel right for me to intrude.
So I left the dance building early.
I checked my wallet again. Only ten ryou left. It wasn't enough to buy dinner, but I might be able to treat myself to a snack. I could always boil a bowl of ramen later at my apartment.
There was a hot yams vendor that I liked, but I wasn't familiar enough with the streets to know which way to go. I got lost again.
I wandered around until I noticed a break in the buildings. There was greenery. I rubbed my eyes.
Closer, I saw it was indeed a park, with real trees and everything! I ran towards it.
I planted myself on the ground, not caring if it got me dirty. Grass! Oh I missed grass! And trees! I hugged the closest tree.
A vendor strolled down the park path, giving me a weird look. His cart was filled with many of those same stone jars I had been seeing around the city.
Curious, I approached him. He stopped, not minding my weirdness if it meant business.
"What are these, mister?" I asked.
"You don't know? Not from around here, are you?" He settled his cart down to show me a jar. He peeled back the paper lid. "It's fermented milk."
My eyes widened at the gooey white goodness.
"Yogurt?!"
"Oh, so you do know."
Of course I knew! Yogurt was one of my dad's favorite foods! Unfortunately, it wasn't sold anywhere in Konoha. My dad tried again and again but couldn't make it at home either. I wasn't sure why… something to do with a special ingredient.
I happily gave the vendor the rest of my money.
On a park bench, I plopped down with my jar. I popped the straw in and took a big sip.
After so long, I had forgotten the taste of yogurt. The flavor was different from what I thought it would be. In fact, it was a new flavor altogether, something not quite sweet, not quite sour… but light and jumpy.
My toes curled. It was good!
"Off!"
I looked up to see an old woman with loose, tangled hair and many plastic bags. She jabbed me with her umbrella.
"Off, off!"
I jumped off. Scowling, the woman dropped her bags on the bench and sat where I had been sitting.
She was rude, but I decided not to argue back. Kids were supposed to give up seats for elders. There were plenty of other empty benches.
I found another bench and finished my yogurt. I wanted to stay longer to watch the sunset, but another stranger had come and shooed me off this bench too. He was even meaner, yelling loudly and threatening me with a shoe.
When he did stop yelling, it was only because of an even louder yell from someone else.
"Mr. Abe, if you don't shut up right now, I'm taking that shoe and stuffing it…!"
I cowered at the following words. A big man with a thick full beard and dirty apron had stomped out of the bushes, ready to give Mr. Abe a piece of his mind. He stopped halfway, surprised to see me there.
His eyes fell to my empty jar, then to my face.
"You're not from here," the bearded man said matter-of-factly, lowering the ladle in his hand.
I shook my head.
Before he could say anything, Mr. Abe had begun to yell again. The bearded man yelled back, raising his ladle.
They went back and forth until Mr. Abe forgot why he was yelling, so he stopped first. He went back to his bench, unloading stuff from the cart he had brought along.
Exhaling, the bearded man shook his head. He turned to me. "You hungry, girl?"
I felt my grumbling stomach and realized I was. I nodded.
"You have a name, girl?"
"Ayae!" I answered happily, following him through the bushes.
"Jonasan," the bearded man introduced, pounding his chest.
We stopped before a campsite. There were lots of make-shift tents and furniture made from old cardboard boxes and plastic bottles. The people must have been camping for a long time, given their look and smell.
"Come meet everyone. Omaru. Andoryuu. Josefu. Maria. This is Aya."
"Ayae," I corrected.
"Ayae," Jonasan amended.
The man named Omaru frowned. "Jonasan, we're not taking another one."
"Nonsense," Jonasan said, sitting at the camp center, where a pot was boiling. He patted to the rock next to him for me to sit. He filled an empty natto can with soup and handed it to me. "She's one of us."
"Don't look it," Omaru said lowly.
The woman named Maria stepped out of her bundle of blankets. She held my face, looking very closely. The sudden touch caught me off guard but I didn't move.
She poked my eyelid and pinched my hair, looking confused. She sniffed. I held my breath; Maria was even stronger-smelling up close.
"Mixed," she croaked. She looked back at the group. "Don't know with what."
Omaru wasn't convinced.
"Think she's from the factories?" asked a long-nosed man whose name I had forgotten.
"Too fat for that," Maria dismissed, poking my cheek. "Probably scurried over from the Yaban district."
Jonasan thought of something that would settle things.
"Have you ever had cold milk?" he asked me seriously.
"Yes?"
"Have you ever had… to poop after cold milk?" he asked, still very serious.
"No? Why would I—"
"She's one of us," the group said simultaneously. Even Omaru conceded.
They had a saying: if it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then I was one funny-looking duck.
They gave me a plastic spoon for the soup. Maria offered her blanket.
"Hey, someone get that tarp out? Sky's looking finicky again. Where's Fiiru? Anyone seen Fiiru?" Jonasan looked around, holding up another natto can.
A kid ran out from the bushes.
"Fiiru!" Jonasan ruffled the kid's hair. "Ooh, what have we got here?" He took the crumbled ryou bills from the kid's hands. The kid reached for the natto can.
There came a new—familiar—voice.
"Guys, did we do good or what? You wouldn't believe this sucker on 5-5, got like sixty—" The newcomer stopped halfway through the bushes. He was the same stubbled man from this morning.
"Saimon!" Jonasan greeted. "Have you met our new daughter yet?"
I waved.
The stubbled man, Saimon, needed time to recognize me. I realized I had gotten messier throughout the day, first with the dishwater, then with the dirt. My hair was no longer up in braids.
But Saimon figured it out. He closed his eyes, a vein in his forehead.
"What do you think you're doing here, girl?" Saimon asked me.
"Um…" I looked at my natto can before smiling cheesily. "Dinner?"
Saimon picked me up and kicked me out. He even took the natto can back, leaving me with just a plastic spoon. Rude!
Jonasan stood up, appalled. "Saimon! What do you think—"
"The girl's not homeless, Jonasan!"
"What!"
"She. is. not. homeless. Just a dumbass! Like you! God save us, this could have turned into a kidnapping. At this point you're giving them reason to execute us." Saimon saw me still there. He waved his arms. "What are you still here for? Out! Get out! Go home!"
"But—"
"Go. Home!"
Despite my protest, I got pushed back out the bushes and onto the park road. I held onto the plastic spoon, my chest puffed.
I exhaled.
My shoulders dropped.
"But I can't go home," I mumbled, looking at the spoon.
Shrinking, I was about to walk away when a droplet hit my nose. I cringed, thinking it was dirty dishwater again.
It was just rain.
To my surprise, Mr. Abe was still on the bench. He was hiding under a pile of ragged blankets, his shoes peeking out from under.
.
By the time I made it back to my apartment, I was drenched.
Despite the howling storm outside, the apartment was calm. Otoha sat at the low table with a blanket on her lap. She was reading, a cup of hot tea in hand.
"Hi Otoha," I said, standing at the door.
"It's late."
"I know."
I paused.
"How many bowls of ramen do we have left?" I asked.
"How would I know, go check for yourse—" Otoha looked up from her book. She stared at the crowd of people behind me. Jonasan waved apologetically, showing his ripped tarp.
"No," Otoha deadpanned.
I clapped my hands. "Please, please, please!"
"No."
"But it's raining!"
"No."
"But they have nowhere to go!"
"NO."
Ten minutes later, I finished patting down tape on the floor.
There.
With the tape, our apartment was divided in half. Otoha can have her side. As for my side…
"Okay!" I chirped. "Come in, everyone!"
Murmuring, the park people walked in, everyone except for Mr. Abe, who first took off his shoes and put them by the door. There were fifteen people in all. Beside Jonasan's group, I found two other campsites, plus a few people who were alone by themselves. There were even more people in the storm who had decided not to join us.
I took turns running hot baths, for the grandmas and grandpas first, then the aunts and uncles, and finally the kids last. Fiiru, being the smallest, got a change of dry clothes from me. He also got the bed alongside Maria and another granny.
Everyone else wasn't as lucky. I didn't have enough blankets, but no one seemed to mind, dumping wet clothes in the corner and sleeping in their underwear. It was cramped, but everyone found a space for themself, respectful of everyone else's.
"It's not here," I heard Fiiru complain to Maria. He shook his backpack before throwing it. "It's not here!"
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Oh, don't mind Fiiru," Jonasan told me. "He's just looking for his toy."
"It's not here," Fiiru told Jonasan.
"I'm sorry, Fiiru. We might have left it behind at the campsite. We'll get it in the morning."
"No! NO!"
Omaru, realizing Fiiru was about to scream, covered the kid's mouth. He couldn't fully muffle the noise. Jonasan tried to soothe Fiiru, but Fiiru only screamed harder.
Embarrassed, Saimon apologized to everyone. He glared at Jonasan, silently pleading for him to make Fiiru stop.
Fiiru stopped. Blinking, he reached out. Smiling, I handed him Komai and Utako.
Fiiru felt the sleeves and hems of their dresses. Suddenly, he could see nothing but the dolls, moving them this way and that. He carefully moved their hands, so that Komai and Utako were holding hands. Their palms fit perfectly.
.
Jonasan was the first of the park people to wake up. I wasn't surprised. Jonasan seemed like a morning person to me.
"Morning!" I greeted, glancing down. "There's hot water in the kettle. I don't have tea, but there's hot chocolate in the cabinet if you'd like!"
I went back to hanging more laundry.
There was a lot of it. Everyone's clothes and blankets had to be washed four to five times before the water stopped being murky. Good thing Miyako had taught me how to do it all super fast. I would need to buy more soap though.
"What in God's name…"
Jonasan stared wide-eyed out the balcony, the rows upon rows of laundry zig-zagging between our and the neighboring building. There had been no way to fit everything on our normal clothes line, so I created more using kunai and wire. Good thing I had brought my summoning scroll.
"Oh no! I'm going to be late again." I hung the last item before jumping off the stool and bringing it back inside. "Tell everyone they're free to eat anything except the stuff in the fridge, top shelf. That is for Otoha only. Oh, and here's the key to get in and out!" I threw him my lanyard. "Gotta go! Bye, Jonasan!"
I almost made it on time.
Almost.
When I got to the dance studio, I saw it was Teacher Ekkusu's day to instruct. The students watched me shyly step in. Only Teacher Ekkusu didn't look at me, continuing the lesson as if I had been there the whole time.
Teacher Ekkusu's lessons were challenging. His dances would take away everything—your body, your thoughts, your feelings—and replace them with something new, something different… someone different. His dances could get intense.
After the set, the students collapsed against the wall, sweating. I was about to get my water bottle when I heard my name called.
"Ayae, a word?" Teacher Ekkusu said.
I let go of my backpack and walked to the front, ignoring the glances my way.
I thought Teacher Ekkusu was going to scold me for being late, but he only handed me a business card. "Tell Aoi I sent you. She can help you with your hair."
My hair… needed help?
Self-conscious, I touched one of my braids. The whispers behind me got louder. Someone giggled.
Then everyone stopped.
"... making your debut in the Royal Spring Performance," Teacher Ekkusu was saying. "I'm placing you in the position of first soloist."
I nearly dropped the card. "W-what?"
Teacher Ekkusu never took back what he said.
From what I knew, students didn't debut until after two to three years of professional training. Even when you do debut, you begin at the bottom, dancing in background roles. You only move up after your fame builds.
First soloist was the second highest position after the principal dancers.
I recovered.
"T-thanks?" I bowed furiously. "Thanks!"
Sensing the tension in the room, Teacher Ekkusu beckoned me to stay close to him. He asked me to join him up front.
For the next set, Teacher Ekkusu began with a demonstration. The choreography was complicated. The movements didn't flow the way you would expect. It was beautiful.
After Teacher Ekkusu finished, he asked everyone to repeat what they just saw, surprising the class. We always learned in parts. This was the first time we'd been asked to repeat a whole set after one viewing.
We tried our best. Attempting the dance was fun. I didn't worry about getting it right, knowing we'd have plenty of practice later to go over the details.
I didn't realize everyone had already stopped until after I finished. It looked like they had been staring at me for a long time. Teacher Ekkusu stood on the sidelines, looking pleased.
"Ayae, do you mind explaining to the class what this dance is?" he asked.
"Ah, um…" My cheeks burned. "Sorry, I don't know the name…"
I should have studied harder the names of all the famous dances, but there were so many. I wasn't even sure what type of dance it was: jazz or hip-hop or…
"Not the name. What it is."
What it… is?
I realized what he meant. "Oh! It's a dance of two friends."
Teacher Ekkusu waited for me to continue.
"They like each other, but one is up there, and one is down here. It's because he has wings, and she doesn't, so he dives and she jumps and they meet in the middle and hug. But together they're too heavy, so they fall. But neither of them mind, they're okay with falling, and instead of hitting the ground, they hit the sea. And they hide there, waiting, until it's safe for them to come back up again and breathe." I paused. "Sorry, it's a dance of three friends. The sea is a friend too."
One of the students broke the silence.
"You got all that from watching the dance?" he asked in disbelief.
I blinked. "Of course not," I said. "I got it from dancing the dance. Didn't you?"
The room went silent.
Teacher Ekkusu returned to the front.
"Thank you, Ayae."
The class didn't giggle anymore.
After class, I approached Teacher Ekkusu.
"Teacher Ekkusu?" I bowed. "I'm sorry for being late this morning. I know your time is valuable, and I didn't mean to be disrespectful."
Teacher Ekkusu's expression was hard to read. Not being able to tell what he was feeling made me nervous. Still, I believed he was a kind person, especially if Ms. Hyuuga liked him. I hoped he would accept my apology and tell me not to be late again.
He didn't do that.
"You arrive when you arrive. You leave when you leave," he said, untying his hair. "Your time is yours, and it takes hubris to believe I am a better judge of your priorities than you are."
He saw my confusion and lowered himself so we looked at each other eye to eye.
"I am saying, you do not owe me any apology," he explained. "I am your teacher, Ayae, not your master."
I opened my mouth.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand," I confessed, face going red. Weren't teacher and master… just different titles for the same thing?
"You will."
He rose. He rolled his hair band up his wrist, where it joined his beaded bracelet—the one I had brought to him from Ms. Hyuuga.
"The longer you are away from Konoha, the more you will."
.
Dear Shisui,
As if! I'm not a baby! :O
Tell everyone I am more than okay. I made a lot of friends at the park, and now we share food and sing campfire songs every night. They're a little weird, but I think everyone back home will like them.
Did you know I'm now first soloist? You probably don't know what that means. It means I am really, really, really, really amazing! Hehe.
In fact, I will be in the Royal Spring Performance. I've put the flier here. I hope everyone will be able to make it and see me dance!
Love,
Ayae
P.S. Don't freak out, but I might look different from now on. I'm getting a haircut, you see! I'm not sure what I'll look like yet, but… hopefully it'll be nice?
.
I fidgeted with the business card in my hand. Nervously, I looked around the hair salon.
It wasn't like the hair salon in Konoha, which was a small corner shop with a chair and a nice grandpa, who took his time combing my hair. He would always cut my hair outside on the street, so we could enjoy the sunny weather together.
Here, there were rows and rows of chairs and dozens of people moving in and out. There were loud hair dryers and spraying cans and mirrors that lit up. There was loud music and a strong smell.
"Ayae?"
I stood up from my waiting chair. "That's me!"
A woman in suspenders came out, sucking on a lollipop. She beckoned me toward her work station.
"Are you Aoi?" I asked. She looked distinct, with coils of hair flowing down to her shoulder, pretty like wisteria. She had colorful makeup around her eyes and a tattoo on her neck. I thought she looked very fashionable.
"One and only," Aoi said, taking out her lollipop. "Alright, let's see what Eks sent me."
I tried to not squirm as she touched and tousled my hair. She frowned.
"Girl, what on earth-" She looked at me in the mirror. "What's your hair routine?"
I told her.
Aoi stared at me like I was crazy.
"A comb? Which one?"
There was a work table in front of us that had a lot of funny-looking tools. Some of them were combs, but in strange shapes. I pointed to the one that looked like mine.
Aoi sighed, pressing her forehead into the back of my seat. "Where does he even find you kids," she groaned. "Okay. Okay! Ayae, right?"
"Yes?" I squeaked.
"I'm going to be real with you here, Ayae. Your hair? It's damaged. I don't think I can rescue it. So it's coming off."
"What!"
"I'll need to cut it up to... here." Aoi leveled her hand to my ear.
My heart pounded. "No, no, there's been a mistake! I know my hair is messy, but… but it's just like this! I promise I'll comb it more." I had gotten haircuts all my life. No barber ever told me I had to chop off all my hair!
Aoi shook her head. She told me I had to stop combing. Stop brushing. My hair was ruined because I was brushing it so hard, trying to get it all smooth and straight. But that was wrong because my hair was not meant to be straight.
"Your hair is curly, Ayae."
I didn't understand.
"Curly?" I echoed.
That couldn't be right. I knew what curly hair looked like. Shisui had curly hair. Michio had curly hair. My hair looked nothing like theirs.
I told Aoi this.
She explained to me that there were different types of curly. Hair came in many sizes and shapes and colors. Thick hair was jagged. Thin hair was willowy. Round hair was straight. And lastly, ribboned hair, depending on the cross-section, could be anywhere from wavy to kinky.
Even more, hair could change with age. Blue hair often darkened to midnight once a kid turned into a teenager. Going from straight to curly was also common.
But my dad was an adult, and his hair was straight, I wanted to say.
I kept quiet in the end. Aoi was a salonist. Her specialty was hair. How could I know more than her? And Teacher Ekkusu still expected a haircut from me.
In my chair, I kept my eyes shut as Aoi got out her scissors.
"Are… are you okay?" Aoi asked.
"Yes," I lied.
Aoi spun my chair around so I faced her. She was a good person. She wasn't going to start chopping my hair if I wasn't okay with it.
"What's wrong?"
I couldn't say it. My face had gone red. I felt embarrassed, being this old and crying over a haircut. I just… I was really hoping to keep my hair long.
Aoi crouched down. "Hey. Hey, look at me?"
I did.
She studied me closely. "That accent isn't local… where are you from?"
"... the countryside."
"Ah, I see. More traditional over there, I'm assuming?"
I nodded.
"Is hair sacred in your family, Ayae?"
"Sacred?"
"Is it important to your family?" Aoi asked seriously.
Aoi was a professional. She knew not just what hair is, but also what it means. What it might represent to people from all parts of the world. Power. Status. History. Spirituality. Bond. There were families who went from childhood to old age without once cutting their hair. There were even shinobi whose entire jutsus depended on their hair.
As she explained, I started to understand.
"No," I answered.
I thought of my clan. We were traditional, but not that way. While other clans had matching tattoos or jewelry or clothes, my aunts and uncles were okay with plain shirts and shorts. The shirts didn't even match in color—that was how nonfussy they were. No one in my clan would care if I cut my hair.
But…
Even if no one else cared, I did.
"The prettiest people back home have long hair," I confessed. I stared at my knees. "Dark and long and straight. I..."
I hunched.
"For once, I just wanted to..."
It was embarrassing. I was crying again, full force this time.
I had been so good. I hadn't cried once since I came to the Fire Capital, despite what everyone back home thought. I had kept tough. I had worked hard, learning dance, learning how to live without all my friends and family.
But a stupid haircut of all things brought out everything I had been bottling up inside. It made me face the truth, the truth that I...
I wasn't wanted.
I was kicked out of my clan. I was kicked out of my village.
I couldn't be a ninja. I wasn't good enough to be the clan lady. I never had any chance of being strong, and now I was told I never had any chance of being pretty either.
No one in my clan would care what I did with my hair. Unlike Itachi, I was free to do anything I wanted. And that only hurt more, because I was only free because I didn't matter.
Nothing about me mattered. Not a single person fought for me to stay in Konoha. Not a single person thought that the Fire Capital was all wrong, that I didn't belong in some stupid city far away.
No one thought that Uchiha Ayae should belong with the rest of the Uchiha clan.
Itachi never even said goodbye.
"Hey." Aoi's voice brought me back. "Hey, listen, it's okay. We don't have to do this. Just give me the word, and I'll tell Eks it ain't happening. He can get you a wig specialist for the performance."
I breathed. My body shook.
I was quiet for a long time.
"No, it's okay," I finally whispered. I looked up, my tears all out. "I feel a little better now. You can cut it."
"Are… you sure?"
I nodded.
"Hair doesn't mean all that much to my family. They don't care about fashion at all, in fact. My uncles wear socks with slippers." I laughed, trying to be light.
I softened. "It doesn't have to mean anything to me either." I could let go. I had to let go. "I want to do what Teacher Ekkusu thinks is best."
Even if my clan didn't want me, other people did. Teacher Ekkusu went through a lot of trouble to get me. He spent more time mentoring me than anyone else. I wanted to make him proud.
Aoi gave me one last chance to change my mind, but I was sure.
I let her pull my ribbons away.
I kept brave as my hair fell around me.
I told myself hair could always grow back. It didn't matter if I was ugly. There was no one here to be pretty for anyway.
Aoi ran her hands through my hair, putting something wet in. She blasted me with a blower.
It was done.
Aoi told me I could open my eyes. When I did, I froze.
Aoi had left my hair longer than she said she would. It was intentionally uneven, with one side at my ear and the other side curling all the way down to my chin.
In disbelief, I pulled at the lock, watching it bounce back. Even though the haircut was boy-like, I realized I liked it. It was cute!
Now that I saw myself like this in the mirror, I realized just how bad my hair had been before, all bent and dry. Aoi was right. My hair wasn't messy. It was just not meant to be straight. I thought of all those years dealing with knots and pulling my hair until it hurt. I felt relieved I didn't have to do that anymore.
"Alright girl, you all set." Aoi grinned proudly, swiveling her scissors. "Now, remember what I said. No combing or brushing, you hear? Unless it's during a shower. Also make sure you get the right products, because whatever you've been using, yeah, that needs to be thrown out."
"Ah… thank you!"
I was still in awe.
Aoi grinned in the mirror with me.
"There's one thing I forgot to mention," Aoi said. "You can tell from someone's hair their health too. And despite the past damage, I can tell from yours that…"
"That what?" I asked excitedly.
Aoi smiled. "That you're going to live a long, happy life, Ayae."
.
"Potatoes… eggs… soy… anything else?" I asked, shaking my pen to get the ink running.
"Flour," Saimon said, checking the cupboards.
I added flour to my list.
"Milk!" Fiiru said.
Maria shushed him.
"No need for milk," Jonasan said, laughing.
I glanced at Fiiru, who pouted. I secretly put milk on the list.
I strapped on my shoes and set off for my grocery trip, waving bye.
Ever since Jonasan and I found each other at the park, we all began living together. They'd come to my apartment when the weather got cold or gloomy, and I'd go to their campsite whenever the night was warm and clear. Many other park people came in and out of my apartment, mostly for water. It was hard to take baths and clean clothes without water.
I once asked why everyone didn't just get their own apartment. Even if they didn't like living indoors, they should at least get one for the refrigerator and hot water. They looked at me funny.
That was when I learned apartments in the Capital cost money… lots of money.
I had thought only visitors like me had to pay for a room. It was like staying in an inn or hotel… except you weren't treated very nicely and the innkeeper didn't do anything except take your money.
But I was surprised to learn that was the case for everyone, even people who have lived here for years and years. There was no such thing as a house in the Fire Capital… only fake inns, where you could only live there so long as you kept paying.
I realized it had always been like that. It was why my dad and I left the Fire Capital in the first place. We didn't have anywhere to live after my dad lost his job.
My park friends were curious where I could have come from, where you could just go into an office and ask for an apartment.
Sweating, I told them "countryside".
They were just as confused by that. To their knowledge, you didn't have to pay for a room in the countryside… but you did have to work from dawn to dusk, like serving the master and doing chores and picking rice, so that was no different than paying.
In the end, they decided I must have come from the forest and lived in something called a "cult". That would explain my weirdness. I went with that.
When I got to the market, I picked up all the food we needed for that week. I always did the grocery shopping for our family. The best cheap food was in the Hajimete district, which Jonasan and the others couldn't go to. People in Hajimete thought people who looked like Jonasan were thieves. Bad things would happen whenever they set foot there.
So Jonasan only shopped at this one place in the far outer city, which I immediately saw was a big rip off. Half the vegetables were rotten, and the price was just as high, if not worse than the good stuff in Hajimete. The seller was so rude too, acting like we should be begging him for his rotten veggies! It took all my self-control to not pick a fight.
"Thank you, ma'am!" I said, taking my two bottles of milk. The milk was pricey but worth it, I decided.
"They make you carry all that, little girl?" The cashier was looking at the large bamboo basket strapped to my back, already topped full.
"Ah! I'm good," I said, holding onto my rope straps. "I'm used to lots of exercise!"
I noticed her staring at my scarred arm.
"Ah, I… fell," I explained.
She didn't look like she believed me.
I gave a cheesy smile.
After groceries, I went to buy shampoo. I hadn't forgotten Aoi's advice about getting the right shampoo for my hair. She had given me a list of shops that sold them.
There were only three shops on the list, and all the shops were in one place—the Ibunshi district.
No two districts looked alike in the Fire Capital, but the Ibunshi district was different to the point of bizarre. The roads were snake-like and paved with pebbles. The windows pushed out instead of sliding left or right. Stretching above every window and door were striped tarps.
I thought the tarp was very smart, as it protected people from the rain and dirty dishwater.
The deeper inside I went, the more familiar the place felt. Something about the smell in the air.
The first shop I entered had a cat asleep on the counter. The shop was tiny and smokey. It was cluttered. I almost tripped on a cardboard box just abandoned in one of the aisles.
The shelves had no organization from what I could tell. The shampoo was next to the cigarettes and toilet paper. Just two shelves below were bottles of condiments.
My eyes widened.
Excited, I reached for one of the bottles. Ketchup?!
I saw a bigger glass jar behind. Pickled cucumber! Konoha had many pickled veggies, but never cucumbers. It was always radish or cabbage or ginger.
They had flat-bread too!
Giddy, I explored the rest of the shop. They had all the food my dad and I liked. Even the rare foods that only came by Konoha once a year sat everywhere all over the shelves. With variety too!
"Sour cream and scallion?!" I reached for the bag of potato chips. There were other flavors. Hot chili pepper. Smoked beef. Cheese and tomato. These flavors existed?!
Drooling, I checked my wallet. I was disappointed to see I had barely enough coins for the shampoo, much less anything else.
Next time, I cried to myself. I eyed the scallion potato chips longingly before forcing myself to leave.
I had plenty of time, so I explored the rest of the district, in awe of the many things being sold. Funny looking hats and shoes. Curly pipes. Colorful blankets. Fuzzy rugs! Outside of my own red rug, you never saw any fuzzy rugs in Konoha, only bamboo or grass mats.
A jewelry shop caught my eye. Curious, I stepped in.
Unlike most jewelry stores, this shop only sold rings. The rings were beautiful and mysterious. Some looked like roots and leaves. One had the sun and moon. A few looked like snakes that looped around. The most common were two hands holding each other in the middle. I'd never seen anything like them before.
"Can I help you?"
I jumped. A grandpa in a floppy hat had entered from the back door.
"Ah, um, that one," I said, pointing to the ring I had been staring at. "How much is it?"
I was stalling for time, not wanting to be shooed out yet.
Skeptical, the grandpa followed my gaze to a silver ring behind the glass. The ring was plainer than the rest.
"100,000."
I choked.
"Grandpa, t-that… don't you think that's a bit much?" I laughed, sweating.
I hadn't meant to sound like I was haggling. The grandpa looked at me, very amused.
"Don't you think you're too young for a fidelity ring?"
I blinked.
"Fidelity… ring?"
Just then, there came a kick and shuffling noise.
A tall man with a short, black beard and curly topknot came in from the back. He wore a baggy shirt with the front fastened by string laces. His sleeves were rolled up, showing very tanned, very muscular arms with lots of hair.
He lowered the box he was carrying out. He spoke happily to the grandpa in strange words. He noticed me.
"Oh hello hello." Very friendly, he smiled and began talking to me too. He stopped when he saw I was not understanding.
"You do not understand," the man said, switching dialects. He saw the basket on my back and my scarred arm — I was beginning to regret wearing short sleeves — and got more confused. "Where are you from, love?"
"Kichouchin," I answered.
"Oh no, not what district you live in. Where did you come from?"
"Ah, um, the countryside," I said, sweating.
"Oh you are new to the capital?" asked the muscled man.
I nodded. I paused. "Well… actually, I was born here! But I don't remember much. I left when I was seven."
"Oh I see, I see." The muscled man leaned on the counter, finding me very interesting. He was casual and warm. "Why are you back? Will you be here long?"
I happily answered him.
We chatted.
"Oh dance, I see." The muscled man spoke to the grandpa in strange words again, and the grandpa replied back. Laughing, the muscled man returned to me. "Uncle said you should make good dancer, your posture—" He straightened up and pushed out his chest. "—it is good!"
"Thanks! What about you, mister? Are you a jewelry-maker?"
"Oh me? Hm, very little. Uncle is craftsman. I move things!" He gave a hearty laugh.
"She was looking at your work, actually," the grandpa said. He pointed to the ring I had been eying.
"Oh? Ah, that one? You like?"
I nodded.
The muscled man beamed. He opened the glass countertop and held out the ring to me. "I didn't think that one would be popular. Who is the—"
He saw me put it on. I held out my hand, seeing how it looks.
The muscled man began to laugh.
"Huh?"
"Oh she does not know."
To me, the grandpa explained, "Young one, these are fidelity rings. They are not worn by yourself, but given as a gift."
I blinked. "Gift?"
"To your beloved," the muscled man said.
I blinked again. "Beloved?" I echoed.
I learned that fidelity rings were a tradition of Kiira people, one of the eighty-six immigrant groups of the Ibunshi district. It went all the way back when they lived in the Land of Twin Rivers and would weave a specific type of wetland grass. People who liked each other would weave each other jewelry to show their love.
They made many types of jewelry—crowns, bracelets, rings—but it was almost always a circle. That was because the circle was believed to be everlasting. There was no beginning or end in a circle, you see.
Of course, once the people left their homeland, things changed. Instead of grass, the people began using metal. But metal was rare, so the jewelry had to be small and for very special occasions. The fidelity ring was the result.
In Kiira tradition, fidelity rings were put on the fourth finger of the left hand. That was because there was a vein there that led straight to the heart. With the ring was a promise to care for each other, always.
I noticed the muscled man was wearing a ring on his fourth finger. The grandpa had not one, but two, rings on his.
The grandpa smiled. "You can tell someone is Kiira if they are wearing rings here. Most would have one by adulthood."
"Can people who aren't Kiira wear them?"
"Oh of course," the muscled man said easily. "We love customers. We love money." He laughed.
I looked more at the ring on my finger.
"You like it," he noted.
Embarrassed, I took it off.
"Ah… it just… reminds me of a ring a friend of mine made."
"Oh?"
"Yeah! It really looks like this one."
It was weird, actually, how much they looked the same, almost like I was holding a clone. When I first saw it, I even had the silly thought that Itachi's ring had magically teleported over.
But having put it on, I saw it wasn't the same. The sizes were different, and the weight was off too. Itachi's ring was much heavier, the metal going warm whenever I touched it.
I grew quiet.
"You okay there?"
I snapped out of it. "Ah! Yeah! I…" I looked at the ring one more time before handing it back. "I was just wondering… if my friend meant to make a fidelity ring. Since he made it as a gift too."
The muscled man and grandpa exchanged a look.
"Is that so?" the muscled man said cheerfully. "For who?"
"His fiancée," I said, my mouth dry.
"Oh lucky lucky. You must be very happy for him."
"Yeah," I said, trying to smile back. "I… should be."
After the ring shop, I thought I would explore some more. It was a good day, the warmest since I had arrived. I could feel the sun on the back of my neck.
The smell, the music, even the roads and windows — everything about this district was very inviting. Everything felt… right. The group of grandpas strolling together. The street vendors lazing under their umbrellas. Down the street, a bunch of kids my age were kicking a ball back and forth in some game, pushing each other and laughing. I could see myself joining them. I could see them noticing me and welcoming me in.
I didn't want it.
I turned my back and ran.
.
Dear Itachi,
Hope your missions are going well!
I'm not sure if you got to read any of my other letters yet. I know you're really busy so it's okay if you can't reply to them all. I know I sent a lot.
I wanted to wish you a happy day. Spring is already here, can you believe it? My dance has gotten lots better since I arrived.
Maybe when you have some time, you can come see. I'd be happy to dance for you. I'd be happy to see you again.
Love,
Ayae
