Interlude : Recollection of First Love I

I never minded my appearance that much, that was the work of my mother. Up until about a year ago when it was discovered I had a great resistance to the uncanny, I had long and straight dark hair. That was my mother's favorite, a trait inherited from her just like those pale blue eyes. People said I was just like her when she was younger and that's maybe why she would always dress me up in ways she considered elegant.

The result? I was mostly wearing old-fashioned clothes or fancy dresses, often bigger than me. I was like her dress-up doll, a role I suspect all firstborn shares to some extent. Well, aside from the shoes that were sometimes too tight, and the makeup sessions that could last hours, I didn't mind much. I was born in that atmosphere and didn't have many friends or any interest in mode so I had no opinion about all of that. My mother decided what I would wear, and people thought it was good, that was it.

Honestly, I was more embarrassed by other things like people saying I was too thin or always looking sick or always looking at the ground or a crybaby or… well, it is no mystery that children are the most cute and cruel monsters on Earth. Actual mirrors were too high for me to reach so the only I had were the eyes of my classmates and what they reflected weren't the image of a beautiful little girl like what my family seemed to see – it was only the gloomy crybaby, Riftwalker.

And so, I mostly stayed in my corner. Thinking back about it, I might've been bullied but it is hard to say – I might've just been quite the wimp. I lost my appetite and started giving away the lunch my mother gave me everyday while learning to lie efficiently so that she wouldn't notice. Quite a counterintuitive behavior right? If being thin was part of the problem, eating a lot would have resolved the issue right? Well, maybe, but no matter how much they called me a genius back then, a 7 years old child sometimes doesn't even know the most basic things. I just didn't feel like eating, that was all. My classmates started saying I was nice and, not even understanding that I was just using them to not eat, I started believing I really was.

Anyhow, I only really started worrying about my appearance when I fell in love the first time.

It was after my classmates started getting friendly with me. Sure, I was still the crybaby but I actually made friends. Though now that I think about it, my very first friend might have been there only for my lunch at first. Maybe the second too. Well, it was better than nothing.

So, about the girl I fell in love with, I think it started back in 3rd grade. She was slightly shorter than me and bit of a tomboy; I don't remember when exactly I fell in love with her, but I remember when we met a year before. She was just another classmate at first, but she started being different in my eyes when she started defending against the others.

Oh, it was nothing that heroic, mind you. She just asked them to not pick on me whenever she had the time and sometimes helped me dry my tears. She never said anything they said was false or anything nor did she hang out with me. Simply put, we weren't friends.

Yes, you might say my standards were low. She wasn't hostile to me, was smart and was really cute. Also, she was my exact opposite – a strong girl who didn't mind being called a shorty and tomboy while I was about to cry whenever people insisted I was a skeleton. She was helping me even though she didn't need to and even when I started giving my lunch, she rarely ever took any part of it. Well, thinking back about it, she might have just not been interested in me at all but, then again, my standards were low.

I just noticed one day that I was staring at her back all day and that my eyes were always searching for her in the school courtyard. I would be excited to see her the next day, but so embarrassed when she was around that I couldn't even say a word.

Then, in 4th grade, we had to prepare a play for the end year ceremony – Romeo and Juliet. The class voted for it even though nobody read the thing. She was chosen to be Juliet and the oldest boy in the class, our teacher's son, was chosen to be Romeo. Needless to say, I was totally against it but I couldn't say a thing at first.

Why? Well, I knew it was a love story so of course I wanted to be one playing with her, but courage wasn't something I had. Playing on a scene in front of a lot of people seemed totally impossible for me. I even avoided the previously mandatory poem recitation because the idea of being in front of people was unbearable to me.

Yet, I still worked up some courage and asked the boy to change with me. He didn't like reading so I used that as an argument, besides, a rumor about the main characters having to kiss went through the class and like every little boy, he was disgusted by the idea.

"If you could be Romeo, I would change with you but I can't," he said.

"W-Why? I… I know the lines very well. I am sure I can do it!"

"But Romeo is a boy and you are a girl! You can't marry another girl, can you?"

Children truly are cute little monsters. They lie badly and say what they think without bothering to use a filter. I already knew what love was, at least on paper. I saw it on the TV and read about it in books, but I never noticed something fundamental about it: it was always between a boy and a girl. Could girls not marry other girls? I wanted to know so I asked my other classmates.

"Huh? Girls can't love girls!" said one.

"Why?" I asked.

"Huh, well, because it is not good. Girls find husbands and marry and then have children. Nobody has two moms, right?"

"It's true…"

For someone barely understanding how children were made, this explanation made sense. There was nothing even remotely comparable to the relationship I wanted with that girl in my vicinity so I couldn't deny that it was weird. In fact, I didn't know what I wanted.

That being said, I didn't give up. I took my courage and approached that girl; if girls couldn't marry, they could at least become friends.

Yeah, I thought. I must want to be her, I thought.

And just like that, I succeeded. We started talking on a daily basis, spending our breaks together and coming to each other's houses albeit rarely.

Then, everything took a turn for the worse.

One night in 5th grade, when she was staying in my home for the night. My mother was still at my grandfather's place but was going to return home eventually. That girl and I, using this opportunity to stay awake a bit later than usual, started playing games in the dark and with a low volume so that when we would hear my mother, we could turn off everything and run to our beds. After a while of playing NegaMan one after another (since we were bad to be honest), she suddenly remembered something and went into the bedroom to fetch her bag.

"Dawn, Dawn! My mother gave me this bottle to my sister to dye my hair with. Do you want to try it out?"

"Huh?"

She was holding a bottle with a princess-like blonde character on it. It was Princess Moon, a character from a popular Magical Girl show.

Normally, Kaname Yuuna is a normal girl but when she is needed to fight the force of evil, she turns into Princess Moon! Or something like that…

This liquid was supposed to give whoever used it the golden locks that the heroine, a girl with reddish brown hair normally, gains when she turns into a magical girl. I saw it on TV a few times and it was more of a toy than a true product so I knew how it worked but…

"Huh, I am sorry… I am not sure I can help you. I am not sure I can put it on my hair properly. Also, my mother won't be happy if I do something like that."

"But it will fade if we wash it right? Please, just this once! I will even do your hair for you!"

"... W-Well, if you will wash before she gets home then I don't mind."

I sometimes say I am a pushover, but compared to the me from before, it is cat piss. I couldn't say no even though I knew it wasn't a good idea. And so, leaving the living room in the dark, we went to the bathroom and she used the product to wash my hair.

"Just you wait. I am sure you will be beautiful with golden hair!"

"You think so?"

"Yeah! Your hairs are already beautiful as they are, but they will be even better with this! I can't wait!"

"Hm… Do you like blonde hair?"

"Yeah! I love them! You know just like that character from Full—"

I didn't really listen to her following words. Maybe it was due to the sound of running water or the fact that my ears were clogged, but I didn't listen. All I could think about was how I wished to have blonde hair at the moment. If I had blonde hair, she would surely like me, I was sure of it.

But I had dark hair, pure dark ones. I could potentially dye my hair, but my mother wouldn't be okay with that. Notions like waiting until my majority didn't even pass through my mind, I was just worried that that girl would find someone naturally blonde one day and leave me.

"(If only I was born blonde…)"

A truly dumb and inconsiderate thought. Something a child wanting to conform to another's ideal said to herself not expecting anything. Yet, destiny replied to that thought, like those random prayers without much faith that are nonetheless granted.