A/N; Written for Numisma for a drabble challenge on my journal. Intentionally this short, complete, and will not be updated. Ever.
Prompt: Sango/Kohaku, 'ponytail'
One day (a good day, a day when he mostly remembers), she asks him if he plans to grow his hair out as she runs her fingers through it.
Freed from its restraint, it falls coarsely around his face, brittle and dark like reeds in winter. It feels as though it would shatter in her fingers if she bent it.
Smile gone, he reminds her that his hair no longer grows. It takes living blood and nutrients to make new hair, and his heart no longer beats, his stomach no longer begs for sustenance. The power of the shard keeps him moving, but he is not truly alive.
She touches his hair, his face, his throat, his shoulder, and talks about nothing just to fill the gaping space left by the truth.
Kohaku leans against her because he knows it comforts her and says nothing more.
If she wishes to see a him who will grow tall and strong and vital and have hair as long and healthy as hers, that is for her to choose. He will let her have her fantasies because he loves her, and will until he dies for real... maybe even past that.
Illusions are the least he can give her.