Title: French Braid

Characters: You guess

Rating: G

Warning: This fic has NOT been beta read, so prepare for some serious grammar and probably spelling pains.

Time: Indeterminate

AN: Just a random thing that came up in my head because I haven't written an one-shot in a long time.

Summary: Mikagami teaches Fuuko how to french braid.



"Come on, Mi-chan. You are the only person I know who knows how to do it."

"You are honestly telling me that you don't know how?" the man said dryly. "That is probably the first thing a girl learns. And besides, you're trying to catch Raiha off guard enough to touch it. And somehow, I doubt that's going to happen with your oaf monkey hands. And how the hell did you learn I know how to do it?"

"It was a lucky guess!" Fuuko skimmed over the question. "And this is a bet with real money! Come on, you'll help me get rich!"

The answer was flat. "No."

"Oh... Please please please please please!" The whining went on for what felt like hours.

"No! Go find Sakoshita about it."

"Her hair isn't long enough."

"Oh please, if you want, even Domon's Mohawk will work."

"I won't even ask how you can do that...ARG. I had it with you!" A pair of scissors got involved. "If you don't, I will cut them off!"

He never moved but only crossed his arms. "What will you practice on then?"

A feral grin. "Oh, I don't mean your beautiful, well cared for, shampoo commercial worthy hair, Mi-chan. I plan to aim lower, a LOT lower."

Sardonic smiles all around. "Keep up that act, and no man would ever want you."

A change of tactics was in order. Instead of the tough guy act, this time was helpless girl look with a well-placed threat. "Please Mi-chan. I beg you! If not, I'll tell the whole school that we're involved!"

"Good. Do that! At least that will get all those girls off my back."

Fuuko was getting so mad that she decided to how him the details of her fist. "I sick of having to act nice to you, you heartless bastard!"

Mi-chan, who made no exception for Fuuko regardless of her x chromosome, dodged instead of letting her pound on him like he usually does.

After about an hour of grappling, destruction of nearby telephone pole, concrete and scaring the bystanders at the park where they were having the arguement, both were exhausted.

"Do you yield, you hardass!?" huffed the girl. "Because I know that you know that your stamina is not as good as mine and I can go all day!"

This was getting no where. And he could not move away in the next day. "Fine! But only if I get half of the bet prize."



It was unbelievably soft. It felt like angel down, with a thickness to show the strength of each strand. Fuuko suddenly wondered if hair can be used to make a blanket, or a pillow, or even a hanky for her nose.

"Don't even THINK about it that way," Mikagami growled. Why in the world did he ever agree to this in the first place?

"Ow! And don't pull!" They had been at this for two miserable hours already. He first started by showing her how to a perfect speedy braid in less than ten seconds. Afterwards, he gave the clumsy bimbo free reign to practice on his own hair. However, he was starting to regret it, because at this at this rate, he would be bald by the end of the session.

"Sorry Mi-chan." She did not sound very sincere. She continued to carefully rearranging the long tress, but she ultimately ended up reducing the mess of strand into something that resembled a rag. "But I have to ask, where in the world did you learn how to french braid? I mean, that is not exactly what I expected from a guy, unless you're gay...aren't you?"

"..." A vein popped.

"Hello. Earth to Mi-chan. Am I right? Are you gay?"

"..." Several vein popped.

"So you ARE gay?"

"No!" Mikagami finally exploded. "Whatever gave you that idea?" He sounded very insulted.

"Well, you never showed any other girls interest other than Yanagi, but she told me that you weren't interested in her in that way. So I guess that you try to look...the way you look to get other...guys with similar...preference...so I thought that...you learned to...french braid to..." Fuuko stopped herself. Instead of the usual wave of cold anger rolling off her sempai, it was a cold nothingness.

There was a long silence where neither spoke for some time.

"My sister taught me how to a long time ago," said Mikagami, breaking the silence.


There was a shrug, like he was too tired to argue. "She was going for a job interview and she wanted to look nice. So she decided to do something with her hair, like french braid. But she could never get it right by herself so I braided her hair for her."

"Wow. You have a sister?" observed Fuuko absently with a smile. So Mi-chan actually had mandatory human contact afterall.

"Had," Mikagami corrected emotionlessly.

Fuuko immediately caught the implication and regretted immediately for her comment. Trust her stupid mouth to drag out something so insensitively. Still, it was natural slip. Mikagami had been friends with them for a long time, but he almost never talked about the past or his family.

Not that Mikagami gave anyone the chance to pry. Mikagami actually rarely came to school. Fuuko would know, since she never missed school, and unlike Domon, Recca and Yanagi, Fuuko made it her business to check on Mi-chan everyday.

Feeling that their somber mood was getting very uncomfortable, Fuuko added, "So, what do I do again?"

Suppressing the urge to initiate another brawl or verbal spar with the brainless female for such a short memory, Mikagami decided to try another strategy so he could leave her odious presence as soon as possible. "Here, I'll show you again, but if..."

"Yeah yeah yeah. If I tell anyone about this, you'll kill me," said Fuuko, waving him off. Mi-chan threatened her on a regular basis anyways.

Within even looking at a mirror, Mikagami's hands reached back and this time, took hold of Fuuko's hands. "...if I don't show you with your own hands, you'll never get it."

Fuuko felt her face redden. In all their times together, the only flesh contact was derived from her fist against his face. She could barely hear his verbal instructions as he manipulated her fingers with his own daft ones. She only felt his hands on hers, and noted sadly of how gentle they were and yet still so cold. Even after they went through so much together, Mi-chan heart was still as unfeeling as a stone.

Well, at least he told me a little bit about his sister...

"Are you even listening, buso (1)!" Mikagami demanded.

Immediately Fuuko saw a haze of red. The only person to ever call her an ugly hag was Fujimaru from USB, and she made him pay dearly for such a comment. She was ready to give Mi-chan a good old throw down when she noted his hair.

Perfectly arranged, from the temples down to braid and the polite black tie at the end, it was better than what Fuuko had seen in the movies. She bet movie stars would kill to have his hair. The cornice effect from the french braid was just to die for!

"You're done. You've learned. Congratulations," Mikagami said dryly. He stood up and left without a word. He had enough of Kirisawa's fingers touching his head to last a life time.


"Wow, Fuuko, I didn't know you can pull it off."

"Yep, Domon, Recca, now pay up."

There was a general expression of pain as money was exchanged. It was enough cash to buy the newest Play Station.

"So what are you going to do with the evidence?" asked Recca, holding it up to the light. Come to think of it, Mikagami kind of made a better looking girl than Fuuko. He snickered at the thought.

"Yeah," Domon agreed. "looks too good to let it go to waste. May you should sell it to an ad agency."

Fuuko grinned evilly. She still had one more thing she wanted to do with the picture. It would be highly entertaining and would extract a well deserved revenge.

Even if it may mean her death.


The next day...

A crowd of students were gathering around on the school bulletin board, each pointing at the new poster on the wall.

Mikagami, with off handed curiosity, decided to go take a look.

There, in a twenty-four inch by thirty-six inch poster board was himself, looking all too innocent and not to mention sexually questionable with the french braid. Scrawled on the bottom was. "And this is what you get for calling me a hag!"

Mikagami only stood there for two whole minutes without moving, enough that passersby became concerned. At the end of those two minutes, he mentally swore a vow so vehemently something that even the penguins in Antarctica felt chilled.

"Kirisawa...prepare to die!"


(1) Buso, probably the meaniest way to call a woman ugly.