Archive of Our Own ^beta

A gentle hand cradles her stomach, fingertips no longer dig into the fabric of her shirt as dark brown eyes gaze at her reflection in the mirror. Her long lashes brushed against her cheeks as she blew air almost absentmindedly to push the hair out of her face. 

She could feel the soft curl of her lips as her eyes lingered on the light bags under her eyes—they were lighter! Anya drew in a deep breath, the tips of her fingers dabbing at her cheek. Her complexion was no longer pale—now more on the fair side from all the sun she was getting, courtesy of Daisuke. 

If she looked closely at her reflection, she could point out a few scarce freckles. 

A light breeze from the small window in her shabby bathroom blew her far too overgrown bangs into her face, making her nose scrunch. “Should probably close that,” she mumbled to herself, eyes blinking owlishly as she pushed her hair behind her ears. 

Anya stepped into her shower, her lips pursing in concentration as she got on her tippy toes, reaching for the window with both hands as the faucet dripped loudly. Closing the window with a loud ‘slam!’ the action making her hair flow behind her shoulders.  

“Anya! I got the scissors,” Daisuke’s singsong voice came from behind her, making the woman jump and look over her shoulder. 

She pressed a hand to her chest, taking a deep breath to steady her hammering heart. Daisuke smiled awkwardly, cheeks flushing with guilt. 

“Sorry, Anya—didn't mean to scare you. I found the scissors you were talking about!” He exclaimed, his face immediately melted into something warm. She lowered herself back to the shower floor, her own small smile on her face. 

“Right. Thanks, Daisuke.” Anya spoke softly, shoulders slumping comfortably as her eyes trailed down Daisuke’s tanned hand. Silver scissors were held in his hand, sharp end held tightly in his palm—the sight made her chest ache. 

‘Don't run with scissors!’

She was sure she had heard Daisuke run to the bathroom, his sneakers squeaking against her wood flooring. 

“Sit, sit! I'll take great care of you, promise! Now, I’m no expert, but I like to think I’m decent at this stuff.” He said, chest puffing with pride. The corners of her eyes crinkled slightly, laughter bubbling up in her chest. 

Anya stepped out of the shower, wiping her feet on her small rug—not wanting to leave wet imprints on the floor. Her shoes and shabby floor have been through enough. 

Sitting on the edge of the toilet seat, her lips curled up into a small smile as Daisuke started to rummage through her bathroom cabinet, silver scissors forgotten on the sink top. 

“Just gotta..” Daisuke mumbled, tongue poking out from between his lips. There was a small ‘aha!’ and the sound of bottles being moved, only for the boy to sigh softly. “Oh, wait! I found it.” He chirped, grabbing a small, blue water bottle. 

“Doncha worry, Anya! You're in capable hands—or so I’d like to think.” He coughed into his fist, hiding the smile that pulled at his lips as he rose to his feet once more. “So,” Daisuke hummed, twisting the cap off of the bottle as he glanced at the woman seated on the toilet seat. 

“Anything specific you had in mind? You'd look great with anything, I bet!” He filled the bottle with water, eyes drawn to the appreciative smile on Anya’s face. “Ah.. no, not really.” She whispered, hands fisting into her sweatpants. 

“Just something short. Trim my bangs a little—I don't think I can even call them bangs anymore.” The woman sighed, twirling her hair with her index finger, only to watch it bounce back to its original shape. 

Daisuke twisted the cap back onto the spray bottle, nodding along with Anya. “Oh, sure, sure. No problem! I can totally work with that.” He glanced down at the soft yellow rug on the floor, quickly snatching it from its place before placing it aside. 

“Okay! Now we're all set for this totally amazing transformation you're about to have. The water’s a little cold, sorry!” He warned, brows pinching together sympathetically—it was almost enough for her to laugh warmly. She didn't flinch at the first spray, instead, she leaned into the hand that separated her hair. 

Anya hasn't felt this relaxed in a long time. 

She quite enjoyed spending time with Daisuke, along with Swansea—whenever she had the time, that is. She only found herself becoming more and more busy when she finally got into the program of her dreams. 

Anya wouldn't trade it for the world. 

A hand presses to her stomach then, a gentle thing—fingertips pressing into the fabric of her long sleeve. She doesn't regret it. 

Her mind drifts to Curly—their Captain. She hasn't spoken to him in months. Her voicemail is filled with old messages from the man, gently asking her how she is—how her classes are going, if she's healthy. 

She's not quite sure why she still listens to them, in all honesty. Anya wonders if she should pick up the phone next time, instead of letting the message go to voicemail. 

Surely, there's something she can say to him. 

Right?

“Anya?” Daisuke waves a hand in front of her face, a worried expression on his face. Ah. Right. She smiles softly at the younger man, “sorry. Was daydreaming. Did you say something?” Anya asked, blinking down at the towel that was now wrapped around her shoulders to catch droplets of water. 

“I was just wondering if you were cold. Hope you don't mind the towel—I know you might not want a bunch of hair on it.” He pouted, brows pinched together as the woman chuckled. “Oh.. thank you, that's sweet. It's okay, I can always just wash it once we’re done.” Anya sniffled, blinking rapidly to get rid of an eyelash—because that's definitely what was bothering her. 

Daisuke hummed quietly, there was a thoughtful look on his face, clearly wanting to ask if she was okay, but instead he opted to gently brush her dark hair with a comb. “How do you feel about cutting it to your chin?” He asked, grasping wet hair between his fingers to pull it to Anya’s cheek. 

“I wouldn't mind that.. but maybe a little shorter? Do you think that would look okay?” Anya glanced down at the hair pressed to her cheek, then up to Daisuke—watching his brows furrow in thought. 

“Definitely!” He settled on, his smile warm as he reached for the small pile of clips. Anya’s cheeks were starting to hurt from how much she was smiling, eyes threatening to mist over. 

Daisuke bit his tongue gently, face scrunched together in a look of concentration as the boy sectioned her hair with clips. She didn't dare interrupt his train of thought, quite liking the look of dedication on his face. 

Anya was always delighted to find Daisuke partaking in something he enjoyed. It was always a treat to listen to him ramble about his new interests and job opportunities over some coffee—while Daisuke sipped on lemonade. 

“Do you mind spinning around a bit? I need to get the back.” Daisuke’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, making her blink softly as she glanced up at him. Nodding, she spun on the toilet seat so he had access to the back of her head. “Is that good? I can turn all the way around if you need,” she offered, eyes closing gently. 

“You're okay, Anya! No need to do more than that, I got this, trust.” He hummed happily, easily placing the clips into the woman’s hair so he could do proper layers—or attempt to, anyway. Daisuke stepped back, a hand pressed to his chin as he looked over his work. “Okay.. I think we’re all good to start for real now. You can turn back around, I should probably start with your bangs!” Daisuke said, watching as Anya spun on the toilet seat to face him. 

“Is it bad I’m a little nervous?” She laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling as Daisuke pouted, his hands pressed to his hips. “I'm no professional, but I think you'll be happy with the end result. I shouldn't jinx it, though.” He whistled, eyes drifting from the woman as she giggled. 

“I believe in you, Daisuke.” Anya confided, eyes fluttering closed as the boy reached for the scissors. Hair was brought in front of her face, measuring it quietly before he began to snip away at her overgrown bangs. Her nose scrunched as hair fell onto her skin, “don't move, I might make it too short by accident!” Daisuke yelped, gently holding her bangs with his non-dominant hand. 

Laughter bubbled in her chest, lips curling slightly as she pressed a hand to her chest. “I'm sorry.. I’m sorry! I’ll try not to move, even if it's… itchy.” She pursed her lips, listening to Daisuke sigh softly, and without a doubt, the boy had a smile on his face. 

“I’ll dust you off in a bit, promise.” He mumbled slowly, tongue sticking out from between his lips as he went back to trimming her bangs. Anya folded her hands in her lap, her lips pulling into a thin line as she calmed under Daisuke’s touch. 

Dark hair fell onto her hands, sighing through her nose at the itch that seemed to go beyond her skin, deep into her muscles. 

Nimble fingers brushed against her forehead, the touch felt warm and full of affection despite being on accident. Daisuke’s enthusiastic hums filled the air—and the sound of hair being clipped above her eyes does not leave her. 

“Where did you learn to do this?” She asks suddenly, and the clipping above her stops for a brief moment—a mere stutter in his movements before he was touching up her bangs. 

“My mom. She thought I should pick up a few hobbies, do a little more with my life, ya know?” He said, placing the scissors on the sink before gently brushing through her bangs. “I honestly think she just wanted me to cut her hair for free, but don't tell her I said that.” Daisuke whispered loudly, cupping his mouth with his free hand, making the woman giggle fondly. 

“Well she was very lucky to have you then. I’m sure she wanted you to explore your options, see what else you could do in this world.” Anya rubbed her thumb over her non-dominant hand, eyes still gently closed as Daisuke pulled back to look at her bangs properly. 

He seemed to pause for a moment, fingers gently pressed to her forehead, measuring the length of her hair. “Right… yeah. Thanks, Anya. You always know what to say, you know that?” Daisuke laughed breathlessly, the sound making Anya peek from under her bangs. 

“I may have been told that before.” She hummed, eyes squeezing shut as Daisuke brushed off some hair that rested on the tip of her nose. “Sure you've been told it many times. You've got this very… what's a good word for it? Compassionate air to you.” Daisuke said, puffing his chest out with pride at the use of a ‘big’ word. 

Anya couldn't help the smile that pulled at her cheeks, shoulders shaking with a silent giggle. 

“Oh my, you're buttering me up quite a lot today, aren't you?” She covered her mouth with her hand, hiding her bright smile. Daisuke simply grinned, shrugging as he grabbed the scissors. “Hate the sin, not the sinner.” He whistled, reaching for wet hair to begin the rest of her haircut. 

“You're ridiculous.” Anya huffed, the sound of hair being cut off in chunks filled the room. “Awe! I’m glad you think so.” He chirped, snipping at the edges of a bit of hair. 

She knew she didn't have to keep her eyes shut, in fact—it would probably be a good idea if she watched Daisuke work, but despite all of that, she couldn't fight back the anxiety pooling into her gut. 

More and more hair dropped to her shoulders and onto her lap, signaling that she was getting closer to the length she wanted. 

“It doesn't look great, but that's because I need to fix the edges. Do you want to take a quick look before I do that? See if you like the length?” He asked, brushing off some hair from the woman's shoulders so it wouldn't become overwhelming. 

“Here!” Daisuke chirped, digging into his back pocket to present his phone. 

Anya blinked open her eyes slowly, glancing down at the hair in her lap, then to the bright red phone Daisuke held in his hand. “Okay, yeah. That's probably a good idea.” She murmured, gently reaching for the bright phone. 

Easily putting in his password—that Daisuke had insisted she learned—she swiped up into the camera. 

Swallowing thickly as she flipped the camera, her eyes widening in surprise at how short her hair appeared. She looked good. 

It was new, and different, but she welcomed this feeling with open arms. 

“Not too bad, Daisuke. I think… I like it.” Anya turned her head side to side to get a better view of her new look. Her hair was still wet so it didn't look perfect, but it was a good glimpse into what she was to expect. 

“Awesome! I just need to trim the edges, fix your layers, then we’re all set.” Daisuke smiled brightly at the woman who admired herself on his phone, lips pursing slightly. “I think. Honestly I’m not too sure.” He whispered out loud, the sound making Anya look up with a worried expression. 

“You've got nothing to worry about!” He waved her off, the action only making her frown. 

Anya must've been stuck in her head for a while. 

Thoughts of preparing for exams that she thought she would never have the chance to take, blond curls bouncing into her vision—then a snarky, all too familiar voice, the sound making her nose scrunch. 

“What? You don't think we should get together and play Digimon?” Daisuke’s voice cut through her warped thoughts, hand gently raking through her semi dry hair to shake off any loose hair. 

Her eyes slowly opened, blinking owlishly up at the boy. “Huh?” Anya replied dumbly, mouth dry as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. 

“I was wondering if you thought we should get together to play some Digimon again! Swansea seemed pretty okay with it—not the happiest, but he didn't leave.” He shrugged, placing the scissors on the sink as he pulled away to get a good look of her hair. 

“You gave me a weird look so I took it as a no.” He said, brushing some hair out of Anya’s face, a satisfied look on his face. “Oh! No, sorry. I zoned out for a bit there. That sounds like a fine idea, why don't we ask him in a bit?” Anya smiled softly, shoulders sagging with relief as Daisuke smiled back. 

“Okay! Sounds like a plan.” He gently pulled the towel off from around her shoulders, careful not to dump all the hair onto the floor—instead dumping it into the trash. “Time for the big reveal.. why don't you take a look in the mirror?” Daisuke asked, shaking the towel lightly as he titled his head to her—his dimples on display. 

Anya nodded, swallowing quite loudly as she pushed herself off of the toilet lid—her legs had long gone numb, needing to shake them off before she made any further movements. 

“I promise it's not bad, you're making it sound bad!” He whined, pouting as the other woman simply smiled. Pulling her sleeves over her hands, she listened to the sound of Daisuke making a drumroll with his fingers—the boy clearly excited for her reaction to her new look. 

She clenched her jaw, rubbing the heels of her palms together as she hyped herself up to look up from her sleeves. Anya breathed out as evenly as she could, eyes casting upwards to her face.

“Ah.” She mumbled breathlessly, her eyebrows raised to her hairline as her eyes raked over her hair. Gently brushing hair out of her face, the sight of Daisuke peeking into her line of vision with the brightest smile on his face. 

“So? What do we think?” He asked, his hands clasped together as Anya sniffled. “It's perfect, it's exactly what I was thinking.” She said, the corners of her eyes scrunching as she raked a hand through her now short hair. 

Her eyes lingered on every detail of her new look, the feeling of a weight being lifted off her shoulders was indefinite. She felt like a new person. 

“Thank you, I love it—really.” Anya gently rubbed at the corners of her eyes, she could feel the tears welling up. Daisuke softly sighed, immediately engulfing the woman in a hug from behind, pressing his chin to her shoulder. 

“I'm glad you like it, Anya. Looks like I’ve still got it, huh?” He grinned, giving her a gentle squeeze as the woman laughed wetly—wiping at her tears hastily. 

“You sure do, Daisuke. I’m going to get hair all over you, you know.” Anya sniffled, staring at the boy’s reflection, feeling him shrug against her form. 

“Whatever. You looked like you needed a hug, and that's more important than me staying hairless.” He rocked them side to side, making the woman’s feet lift off the floor slightly—the action making her laugh warmly. 

“Dork.”