Little Tiger

A day with Ayame

Ayame put his hand in the doorway of the elevator, keeping the doors from sliding shut while virtually attempting to corner me inside of it. He looked surprisingly unkempt; his hair had a few knots in it (a foreign sight considering he kept a hairbrush with him at all times), his face was puffy and swollen, and he was staggering slightly against the doorway.

"I was just coming up to see you," he said, breathing somewhat heavily. "I never went to sleep and I've been waiting for hours for you to get up, since you're the only one who has to wake up this early." He grabbed my hand, forcing me out of the elevator. "Come on, I need some coffee and someone to entertain me at the hair salon," he said while ushering me out of the building. My school bag was dragging against the ground, his pushing making it hard for me to keep my composure. He picked it up and slung it over his shoulder to ensure we'd keep up the quick pace.

"Aya, are you still dru--"

He clamped his hand over my mouth and leaned into my ear. "Uh, uh, uh," he began, wagging his finger in front of my face, "I may be of legal drinking age, but this campus is alcohol free." He paused for a moment then looked at me, bleary eyed. "But, yes, I am."

I tried to remind Ayame that I had school, but he dismissed my concerns. "Don't worry about that," he assured me, putting his hand on my shoulder, "I'll get Tori to call the school and everything will be fine. Besides, you've been pushing yourself too hard at school, it's time for a break."

I did not inform Ayame that Hatori would not let another school absence slide without consequence or that I had already had several school absences, and that I was not pushing myself at all in school, let alone too much.

We went to the hair salon where Ayame frequented after our trip to the coffee shop. It was funny, he trusted himself enough to cut the rest of our hair, but not his own. If that didn't tell you anything about the standard Ayame held himself to compared to others or his underlying lack of confidence in his skills, I don't know what does.

I was able to sit in the salon seat beside Ayame while he got his hair done.

"Ko, you should get a trim while we're here," he insisted, taking a pitiful, sweeping glance at my hair and then back at his own in the mirror. "Or maybe you should try a bob, I think you'd look dashing in a bob."

I glanced at my hair in the mirror curiously, imagining what it would look like in a bob, while simultaneously basking in my disappointment that my spontaneous day off from school consisted of following Ayame to the hair salon.

"Yeah, maybe, but I don't think it matches my personality," I replied, leaning back in the surprisingly comfortable salon chair.

Ayame plucked at his bangs while the stylist worked on the back of his hair, seemingly annoyed by how much he was turning his head to speak to me.

"Well, you're supposed to have it cut short for school, aren't you?" he mused, his head tilting backwards as he relaxed in his seat, irritating the stylist once again. "I believe that your hair is growing out quite nicely and thick too--I suppose all the credit goes to my natural talent at cutting hair." The corners of his mouth stretched into a sly smile, practically begging me to shower him with compliments.

I did not, in fact, do that for Ayame. He was better at cutting hair than anyone else, but he needed to learn a couple more things before I gave him my compliments. For example, the last time he had cut my hair, he snipped the hem of my shirt because he was so busy talking and flailing his hands around for emphasis that he wasn't paying close enough attention to what he was cutting. There was another time, one I don't look back on fondly and still haven't forgiven him for, when I was twelve and he cut my hair four inches shorter than what we had agreed upon. My hair only reached the very bottom of my ears and took over a year to grow back to the length I had originally asked for. For both of his mistakes (I'd prefer to call them "offenses" but both terms mean no difference to Ayame), he brushed them off with a giggle followed by an unapologetic "whoops." It was not easy to forgive Ayame's carelessness because they tended to be fairly detrimental, but he never felt particularly regretful about any of his shortcomings; therefore, your anger did not stir him and you were better off letting it go.