Summary: He said her hair was eye-catching. She thought it was a compliment. YamaxHaru. Vague TYL.
Disclaimer: I don't own KHR.
It was a beauty statement, at first. Fuuta was only nine when he looked at her and his eyes grew blank with celestial power, but Haru took every single word to heart. A nine year old boy was still a boy after all, and his opinion was closer to Tsuna's than her's would ever be.
After that, it became a habit.
At twenty-two years old and getting older, Haru wasn't the same young girl who conformed to every new fashion trend on the market. She was beautiful, both inside and out, and no bathing suit models or plastic surgery actresses would make her race to the nearest mall again. Haru knew herself, and she was nobody else but Haru.
Her hair, though, was kind of a different story. A different realm, so to speak. She liked her number one charm point and gave it lavish attention, enough to compensate for lack of makeup and jewelry. She visited the hair salon and gladly sacrificed her wallet for the best hair treatment she could afford. Her dark eyes sparkled back in the mirror. Her hair was absolutely beautiful.
"How does it look?"
Kyoko smiled, gold hair gleaming. Hana shook her head, having cropped her hair short years ago.
"What do you think?"
Haru watched as Tsuna offered her a gentle, tentative smile, unsure if she was hoping for something more. Gokudera scoffed, of course, muttered something rude and intelligent under his breath. Her hope rested on Yamamoto, who gave her (hair) an appraising glance and laughed kindly, as always.
She stared long at her reflection and smiled.
Tsuna wouldn't let her go shopping alone these days. Haru didn't mind, but she wondered if her old, innocent life would ever return.
(It wouldn't, she knew.)
Her favorite companion was usually Yamamoto, even if she yearned to be alone. Gokudera bickered with her on everything (but haggled quite well), Ryohei was absolutely useless around girl's clothing (except when it came to Hana's), and Lambo flirted way too much with other females (yet never strayed from her side). Yamamoto was not much better. If anything, he was too nice and easygoing to take seriously. But he was tall, dark and handsome and she liked standing next to him for purely aesthetic reasons.
As she glanced at a passing window reflection, Yamamoto pulled her firmly out of a couple's way. "You look fine," he assured her for the fifth time that day.
Haru sighed. "I'm nothing without my hair."
When his eyebrows shot up, she only laughed lightly.
"It was a joke!"
He shrugged. "No, actually. I was just thinking you were totally right, you're nothing without—" His smile morphed into good-natured chuckles as she faked outrage, swatting his arm as they walked through the street. "But it's eye-catching. You're easy to spot in a crowd," he said seriously.
She blushed, thinking it a compliment. "Really?"
Yamamoto didn't smile.
—and he was right.
They were panting in the cold, dripping alley, listening for the sounds of their pursuers. While Yamamoto could easily blend into his surroundings, Haru did not have the same skill, even though she was not the target. They recognized her immediately every single time, no matter how she tried to mix in with the crowd, and he refused to leave her in danger.
"They're after you," she hissed out, still breathing heavily from running continuously. Yamamoto didn't seem slightly out of breath at all as he peered around the stone wall, katana hidden in shadows.
Her hair gleamed even under the dim streetlamp. Haru didn't have time to mourn for the shopping bags they had to leave behind at the mini-mart, where the pursuers had spotted her again. She touched his back lightly and repeated, "They're after you. I'll hide here—"
"Be quiet," he ordered, not moving save for tensing under her hand. "Gokudera and Ryohei are on their way."
She wasn't stupid. It would be at least fifteen minutes before any help could arrive, and by then the shadow-like pursuers would find them. No matter where Yamamoto hid, they always managed to trace her. People recognized her and pointed in the direction she ran.
Girl with the beautiful hair.
He didn't turn but she saw his jaw tighten. "What?"
"Do you think I'm pretty?"
It was hardly the moment to ask such a question, but when he realized she was dead serious, he looked at her. "Yes. Very pretty." There was no hint of lie or sarcasm in his voice.
Haru smiled. "Cut my hair."
Yamamoto's eyes widened at the request, and then he understood. He hesitated, reaching out to touch her glossy locks. When he lifted it and looked at her questioningly, Haru knew what he was asking her. She nodded.
There was little time, but he didn't slice off her hair by handfuls like she'd anticipated. Instead, he stepped close to her so she was gazing at his mouth, and carefully gathered all of her hair into a loose bundle behind her head. She didn't see his blade, but could feel it almost humming with power at the nape of her neck, the edge kissing her hair.
"Haru?" he murmured, almost brushing her forehead.
Her eyes closed. "Yes."
One swift movement. She could have listened to the sound of hundreds of beloved hair strands being cut off forever. She could have seen the locks of hair falling dead around her feet. She could have seen the expression in his dark eyes his katana moved effortlessly through the years of care and love she put into her number one charm point.
Instead, she chose to feel his puff of breath caress her skin, warm and reassuring.
When he pulled away and her eyes opened, Haru smiled slowly.
"I feel so light. Like a bird."
Yamamoto gazed at her.
He sounded sincere and heartfelt, and her smile widened. When he held out a hand, she took it without hesitation.
And they ran.
Everybody looked aghast, and then unsure. All but Yamamoto thought she would be inconsolable. They didn't know what to say.
Haru looked at her reflection and smiled.
A/N: I missed writing them. I really did. I wrote this in an hour. Hope inspiration was enough to make this oneshot decent.