Battle Royale (manga) - Takako Chigusa - Table 2, Colours - Orange
TITLE: Act of War
AUTHOR: versipellis
FANDOM: Battle Royale (manga)
CHARACTER/PAIRING: Takako Chigusa
GENRE: Gen, but with slight implied het (Takako/Hiroki)
TABLE: 2 - Colours
PROMPT: 06 - Orange
RATING: G
WORD COUNT: 813
SUMMARY: Why Takako dyed her hair.
WARNINGS: None
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Takako (or Hiroki, for that matter) and am not making any money out of them. That honour belongs to Koushun Takami.
The decision to dye her hair comes quite suddenly, during last period track, as the coolness of Not Running pours over her and on shaking legs she follows the other girls into the locker room. Chatter, giggles, already the conversation turning to lip gloss and cute guys. Takako opens her battered green locker, the clatter as she does so echoed as everyone else does the same thing. And she collects her towel and shampoo and -
Suddenly she needs to show that she's different from them. Show that she is aware and it doesn't bother her, not one bit.
In the shower she closes her eyes and as her hair grows heavy with water she thinks of colours. Not blonde - that would make her look like she should have a rich boyfriend and designer clothes. Blue or purple would make the whole thing seem like a joke, and red would be... brash. Ugly and attention-seeking. Well, perhaps. Maybe not, but it isn't like she has anyone to confer with about it.
Walking down to the shops, hair still slightly damp and smelling of hot water and tea tree, she's annoyed to find herself feeling apprehensive: as if hair colour matters, as if unease will accomplish anything. So she walks quickly, slapping each foot down on the warm concrete, and when she reaches the store she sends the door slamming back against the wall and doesn't stop to hold it open for the shopping-laden woman leaving. The aisles are stuffy, smell of perfume and antiseptic. She marches through them, irritated by the bright packages, the glossy pictures of girls' legs and arms and faces and lips. It doesn't take her long to find some orange hair dye: Autumn Sunset, it calls itself. The woman on the box looks just as bored as all the others do, but Takako likes the name - she constantly feels like the quieter, colder autumn to the heatwaving glitter of the other girls' summer.
And then she's waiting in the queue, automatically slipping into the one-foot-back pose she would be in before running, although she doesn't know what she'd be running from. There are several people in front of her. She doesn't like waiting. Keeping her weight evenly balanced, she studies the chewing gum and cereal bars and lip balm on the rack nearby. Part of her wants to take something off it just so she has a task to perform, some way of hiding her true intentions - but that's ridiculous. She doesn't care what anyone else thinks.
"Yeah, it smells of cherries, it's awesome - oh. Hey, Takako!"
Feeling like a stone's hit her in the chest (and that's silly too - they would see she had dyed her hair, wouldn't they?) she looks round. Two girls from track, damp-haired as her, buying lip balm, already spotting the box in her hand. "You're dyeing your hair?" "Teachers won't like it." Prissy. She hates this passive-aggressive helpfulness. Shrugging, she replies, "Well, it's permanent. They'd like a shaved head even less." The girls stare at her as if she's not getting a joke - she probably didn't smile enough again.
"My sister dyed her hair green in college," one of the girls says. "It was really difficult... have you got anyone to give you a hand?"
"I'll probably ask Hiroki -"
She wouldn't have said it if she hadn't been thinking so much about running. The girls giggle. Takako keeps her face cool, blank. So what if she slipped up? (Stupid.) Soon they stop laughing, and the girl with the green-haired sister says, "Guys don't really understand that kind of thing, though, right?" Takako shrugs. She doesn't really care what guys are and aren't meant to understand. She's never had many expectations that way.
The other girl smiles, and says, "I'm sure Sugimura is special, though." Takako feels a smile curve onto her own face. When people like this talk about Hiroki to her, she feels as if she's a child caught out in playing a game, and it makes her so angry all she can do is smile.
(What if she's only doing this as an excuse to get Hiroki to stroke her hair? What if she really is that shallow?)
She's reached the front of the queue now. Quickly, she pays, keeping her face turned away from the girls. Sure enough, they start whispering to each other again instead. She declines the offer of a plastic bag, scrabbles for her change, and strides away, making sure they won't catch up. In a way she's almost glad she met them. It cements her resolution; confirms this as an act of war.
AUTHOR: versipellis
FANDOM: Battle Royale (manga)
CHARACTER/PAIRING: Takako Chigusa
GENRE: Gen, but with slight implied het (Takako/Hiroki)
TABLE: 2 - Colours
PROMPT: 06 - Orange
RATING: G
WORD COUNT: 813
SUMMARY: Why Takako dyed her hair.
WARNINGS: None
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Takako (or Hiroki, for that matter) and am not making any money out of them. That honour belongs to Koushun Takami.
The decision to dye her hair comes quite suddenly, during last period track, as the coolness of Not Running pours over her and on shaking legs she follows the other girls into the locker room. Chatter, giggles, already the conversation turning to lip gloss and cute guys. Takako opens her battered green locker, the clatter as she does so echoed as everyone else does the same thing. And she collects her towel and shampoo and -
Suddenly she needs to show that she's different from them. Show that she is aware and it doesn't bother her, not one bit.
In the shower she closes her eyes and as her hair grows heavy with water she thinks of colours. Not blonde - that would make her look like she should have a rich boyfriend and designer clothes. Blue or purple would make the whole thing seem like a joke, and red would be... brash. Ugly and attention-seeking. Well, perhaps. Maybe not, but it isn't like she has anyone to confer with about it.
Walking down to the shops, hair still slightly damp and smelling of hot water and tea tree, she's annoyed to find herself feeling apprehensive: as if hair colour matters, as if unease will accomplish anything. So she walks quickly, slapping each foot down on the warm concrete, and when she reaches the store she sends the door slamming back against the wall and doesn't stop to hold it open for the shopping-laden woman leaving. The aisles are stuffy, smell of perfume and antiseptic. She marches through them, irritated by the bright packages, the glossy pictures of girls' legs and arms and faces and lips. It doesn't take her long to find some orange hair dye: Autumn Sunset, it calls itself. The woman on the box looks just as bored as all the others do, but Takako likes the name - she constantly feels like the quieter, colder autumn to the heatwaving glitter of the other girls' summer.
And then she's waiting in the queue, automatically slipping into the one-foot-back pose she would be in before running, although she doesn't know what she'd be running from. There are several people in front of her. She doesn't like waiting. Keeping her weight evenly balanced, she studies the chewing gum and cereal bars and lip balm on the rack nearby. Part of her wants to take something off it just so she has a task to perform, some way of hiding her true intentions - but that's ridiculous. She doesn't care what anyone else thinks.
"Yeah, it smells of cherries, it's awesome - oh. Hey, Takako!"
Feeling like a stone's hit her in the chest (and that's silly too - they would see she had dyed her hair, wouldn't they?) she looks round. Two girls from track, damp-haired as her, buying lip balm, already spotting the box in her hand. "You're dyeing your hair?" "Teachers won't like it." Prissy. She hates this passive-aggressive helpfulness. Shrugging, she replies, "Well, it's permanent. They'd like a shaved head even less." The girls stare at her as if she's not getting a joke - she probably didn't smile enough again.
"My sister dyed her hair green in college," one of the girls says. "It was really difficult... have you got anyone to give you a hand?"
"I'll probably ask Hiroki -"
She wouldn't have said it if she hadn't been thinking so much about running. The girls giggle. Takako keeps her face cool, blank. So what if she slipped up? (Stupid.) Soon they stop laughing, and the girl with the green-haired sister says, "Guys don't really understand that kind of thing, though, right?" Takako shrugs. She doesn't really care what guys are and aren't meant to understand. She's never had many expectations that way.
The other girl smiles, and says, "I'm sure Sugimura is special, though." Takako feels a smile curve onto her own face. When people like this talk about Hiroki to her, she feels as if she's a child caught out in playing a game, and it makes her so angry all she can do is smile.
(What if she's only doing this as an excuse to get Hiroki to stroke her hair? What if she really is that shallow?)
She's reached the front of the queue now. Quickly, she pays, keeping her face turned away from the girls. Sure enough, they start whispering to each other again instead. She declines the offer of a plastic bag, scrabbles for her change, and strides away, making sure they won't catch up. In a way she's almost glad she met them. It cements her resolution; confirms this as an act of war.