The chime of the bell as the store door swung open shattered the silence that clung to the hot Hyogo air. Atsumu made his way to the back of the store, where shelves were lined with hair products. Osamu trailed behind, hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the floor.
“Which one is the hair dye we usually use, Samu?” Atsumu asked, crouching in front of the shelf, his eyes scanning each box of hair dye displayed. Osamu stood behind him, lips sealed, his eyes lingering on Atsumu’s golden locks, now streaked with the darkness of his natural roots.
“Ah, this one!”
Atsumu grabbed the box of blonde and ash-grey dye, rising to his feet and preparing to head to the cashier. His steps halted when Osamu tugged at the backpack he was wearing, causing Atsumu to turn around. “What’s up, Samu?”
“Put the grey one back on the shelf, Tsumu.”
Atsumu looked at him in confusion, his face wrinkling, lips curving downward. The store’s orange-tinted lights shimmered above them, casting a glow like stage lights, highlighting the two as if they were the main characters amidst the crowd bustling through the store. “Why? Are you short on cash? I can cover it –”
“I’m gonna stop dyeing my hair.”
Atsumu blinked, the words hanging in the air between them, heavy with a finality that made his chest tighten. For a moment, the noise of the store seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the soft hum of the lights above and the distant clatter of a shopping cart.
“Why?” His voice was quieter now, almost as if he feared the answer. Osamu looked away, his eyes tracing the outline of the shelves, the rows of bottles and boxes that suddenly felt so trivial. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel like it.”
Atsumu’s grip on the box loosened. He searched his brother’s face, trying to decipher the emotions that flickered behind his eyes, the same eyes he had known all his life but now seemed different, somehow older, wearier.
“Why?” Atsumu’s voice was quiet, something inside of him not ready to let go of the familiarity they had shared for so long. Osamu finally met his gaze, a small, tired smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Have you ever stopped asking why? I just don’t want to anymore, Tsumu, you can keep dyeing your hair but I won’t.”
Atsumu kept looking at his brother in silence. His face still smeared with confusion.
“We can’t keep holding on to everything, you know? Some things, we just have to let go. Or change. It’s just a hair dye, Tsumu, not a big deal.”
Atsumu’s unease wasn’t just about the hair dye. It was something deeper, a knot in his chest that tightened with every passing moment. They were twins, bound by more than just shared blood; they had spent their entire lives mirroring each other, moving through the world as two halves of a whole. The hair dye had been their silent pact, a way to stand out in their similarity, to let the world know who was who without having to explain. It was their unspoken code, a signal that said, “We are the same, yet we are different.”
For years, the golden and ash-grey strands had been their shield, a way to face the world with matching resolve, even as they wrestled with their own individual struggles. It was supposed to be their thing, something they could control in a world that so often sought to blur them together. But now, with Osamu deciding to stop, that carefully crafted illusion was beginning to crack. Atsumu feared that without the dye, they would no longer be seen as equals, no longer be a pair in the eyes of others. They’d look different, and maybe, just maybe, they would start to be different. The thought unsettled him. What would it mean to stand alone, to not be recognized instantly as one of two, but rather, as just himself?
As Osamu’s words echoed in his mind, Atsumu felt a strange sadness. The dye had been more than just a colour – it had been a bond, a shared ritual that kept them tethered to the idea of their twinhood. Without it, Atsumu wasn’t sure who he would be, who they would be.
And so, as he placed the box back on the shelf, he wasn’t just letting go of a bottle of dye. He was letting go of a part of them, a part that had always been the same, even as everything else in their lives had changed. It was a quiet, almost invisible loss, but one that Atsumu felt deeply, as if the very essence of who they were was shifting, slipping away into the unknown.
The grey dye was back on the shelf, the sound of the box settling into place resonating with a sense of quiet acceptance. They stood there for a moment longer, the world around them moving on, oblivious to the silent exchange between the two. As they turned to leave, the lights overhead seemed to dim just a little, as if sensing the end of a scene, the closing of a one small chapter in their lives. And with that, Osamu walked out of the store while Atsumu went to the register, the bell chiming softly as the door closed behind him, leaving behind the echoes of what once was, and stepping into the uncertainty of what would come next.
