Bleeding Heart

"You're everywhere

except right here

and it hurts."

- Rupi Kaur

The thing Daiki remembered most about his mother was her kind eyes. Warm and brown, they were full of love, even towards the end when her shoulders had been tightened with nerves and anxiety over leaving him. Looking now in the mirror, he could trace her influence in his own features. His eye shape was distinctively hers. Their coloring, however, was something unique to him alone.

 In his six years of life he had yet to run into another individual with eyes the same shade of gold that he possessed. If their color alone hadn’t been enough to set him apart then the shape of his pupils would be. They were slitted- almost like a snake. If it wasn’t for the soft, almost girlish, quality of the rest of his features they might have made him look rather terrifying. As it was, he looked about as intimidating as a grass snake.

He hadn’t thought that he had inherited his mother’s warm complexion but his skin had lost its deathly paleness a few weeks after his abandonment of his nocturnal schedule. Mere hours in the sun were all it took for his mother’s signature freckles to bloom across his face and shoulders, as though they were flowers and sunshine was the missing ingredient for their success.

He twirled a lock of dark, almost black, hair around his finger. He hadn’t had a haircut in years and it showed, his hair almost reaching his elbows. It was darker than his mother’s had been and the texture was completely different. Whereas her mahogany brown hair had had a prominent curl and shown red in the sun, his black locks were pin straight and flared a much deeper plum color when the sun hit them just right. While something deep within him argued that hair couldn’t be purple naturally, he could distinctly remember spotting a young girl around the village with light pink hair, which in Daiki’s opinion was a much more questionable color. 

Daiki smoothed his thumb over the smattering of freckles under his left eye and smiled in bittersweet reminiscence, feeling a lump of longing tighten his throat and build behind his eyes. He missed her. The word “miss” didn’t even come close to describe how much he just wanted her to be by his side. He was coming to terms with the fact that the hurt would never really go away. Just dull over time from scraping at his insides, like a blade against bone. Dull until the sharp pangs of longing became a familiar ache and he didn’t cry when he thought of her too late in the night.

Taking a deep breath in to quell the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, Daiki remembered why he was scrutinizing his reflection in the first place. He picked up the kunai he had sharpened just for this purpose and got straight to task. Grabbing thick sections of hair at random, he sawed haphazardly through them before moving onto the next piece, filling his sink with hair. It was more fun than it had any reason to be. When he finished he swiftly appraised his work in the mirror before nodding in satisfaction and rushing off to finish the rest of his morning routine.

“What happened? Who did this to you?” After staring at Daiki in his own stiff lipped version of abject horror (his eyes had widened a fraction) for almost a full minute, Itachi had crouched before him with a serious expression, his emotions taking on a protective sheen.

Daiki would have been touched if he wasn’t so offended.

“I did it myself.” He tucked a lock of newly shoulder length hair behind his ear self consciously. Sure the cut was rather jagged and his inspired attempt to give himself bangs left something to be desired but-

It was pretty bad. 

It was horrendous, actually.

Itachi made his “if I was any less dignified I’d say oh no” face. 

“You’re being dramatic.” Daiki was almost certain he was the first to ever call the older boy such and had to bite his lip to keep from snickering at Itachi’s resulting pinched expression of displeasure.  

“Your first day of the academy is tomorrow.” A trill of anxiety lanced down Daiki’s spine. He knew that. It had been the motivation for the impromptu haircut in the first place.

“Is it really?” They sat silently in the wake of Daiki’s sass for a moment before Itachi got to his feet, scooping Daiki up and resting him on his hip in one smooth motion without a word. 

Daiki could only cling tightly, shielding his eyes from the wind against Itachi’s shoulder as they raced through the trees and then across rooftops. Soon enough the wind died down and Daiki opened his eyes to find himself in the entryway of what appeared to be a large, traditional style house. Itachi tugged Daiki’s sandals off his feet before he could think to protest, removing his own shoes and striding confidently into the house as though he owned the place. 

“Mother?” Itachi called softly, finally setting Daiki on his own feet. 

Oh. 

Daiki froze as a woman peaked around the corner and welcomed Itachi home, her presence suffusing the air in steady waves of comfort and love. Even though the feelings weren’t directed at him Daiki soaked them up almost greedily, feeling a slightly dopey, blissed-out grin grow on his face. It lasted until he realized Itachi and his mother had been having a conversation over his head and Daiki had missed the entirety of it. Itachi’s mother had approached without his noticing and was smiling down at him as though he had done something amusing, no, endearing . He couldn’t imagine what it was. 

“I can definitely do something about this.” She said, her eyes creasing happily as she leaned down and ran a hand through the choppy disaster that was his hair, broadcasting her movements so he could move away if he wanted to. He couldn’t think of anything he currently wanted to do less. He felt like a deaf man hearing music for the first time in years. “Would you like that, Daiki-kun?”

Daiki felt himself nod, unable to resist leaning into her hand as it lingered on his cheek.  

Daiki stayed for dinner.