![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Persona 4: In which the silent protagonist is somehow awesome
Persona 4 thingamajig. I'm nowhere near done so this may be jossed in some awful way. But the image was too strong and god. damn. The main character's hair sure is bad in this game. Even if he has marginally more personality than the P3 protagonist! I blame this entirely on Johnny Young Bosch.
Before Souji moved to Inaba, he cut his hair. He didn’t really want to, but he didn’t have a choice. His mother slapped a few notes down on the counter and told him to go a barber. She’d pay. But he had to do it.
“I want you to be good,” she instructed, with an edge of desperation. It was the most she’d said to him since the cops had brought him home a month ago. “So be good I don’t want your uncle to think you’re some delinquent.”
Souji refused to dye it back, but he got a trim. Short in the back and sides, and with the bangs cut in a straight line across his forehead. It looked like every honor student graduating that year. He hated it. He ran his hand through it every way he could think to and it always fell in that same. Damn. Way.
His mother did look at him long enough to get on him about the dye. Her and Dad were off on the next plane out, and he was on the train to the middle of bumblefuck nowhere, looking like nobody, cracking his neck like that might shake away the nice guy he’d promised everyone he’d be. It didn’t work.
But he’d be good, hell. He’d promised he would be. But that didn’t mean he had to look like some bumpkin.
Three months in he had other things to think about, so it was Nanako who actually noticed: “Oh, Big Brother. Your hair’s getting long!”
He’d been reading on the couch. “Huh?”
It was getting scraggly and had started to really hang in his eyes again. Nanako reached over to tweak one of the errant strands. Souji went cross-eyed. “I can cut it, um. If Big Brother doesn’t mind.”
“…who lets you do that?”
“I do Dad’s sometimes.”
You do too much, Souji thought. And Dojima probably wasn’t coming home that night. Again. Heck.“With the scissors? Just like that? Oo-kay,” he added quickly, when Nanako began to bite her lip. “But don’t make me look all old, all right?”
“I won’t!” she promised. “It’ll look just like before.”
It did, and Nanako was so darn proud of it that Souji promised her she could be his stylist from then on.
Before Souji moved to Inaba, he cut his hair. He didn’t really want to, but he didn’t have a choice. His mother slapped a few notes down on the counter and told him to go a barber. She’d pay. But he had to do it.
“I want you to be good,” she instructed, with an edge of desperation. It was the most she’d said to him since the cops had brought him home a month ago. “So be good I don’t want your uncle to think you’re some delinquent.”
Souji refused to dye it back, but he got a trim. Short in the back and sides, and with the bangs cut in a straight line across his forehead. It looked like every honor student graduating that year. He hated it. He ran his hand through it every way he could think to and it always fell in that same. Damn. Way.
His mother did look at him long enough to get on him about the dye. Her and Dad were off on the next plane out, and he was on the train to the middle of bumblefuck nowhere, looking like nobody, cracking his neck like that might shake away the nice guy he’d promised everyone he’d be. It didn’t work.
But he’d be good, hell. He’d promised he would be. But that didn’t mean he had to look like some bumpkin.
Three months in he had other things to think about, so it was Nanako who actually noticed: “Oh, Big Brother. Your hair’s getting long!”
He’d been reading on the couch. “Huh?”
It was getting scraggly and had started to really hang in his eyes again. Nanako reached over to tweak one of the errant strands. Souji went cross-eyed. “I can cut it, um. If Big Brother doesn’t mind.”
“…who lets you do that?”
“I do Dad’s sometimes.”
You do too much, Souji thought. And Dojima probably wasn’t coming home that night. Again. Heck.“With the scissors? Just like that? Oo-kay,” he added quickly, when Nanako began to bite her lip. “But don’t make me look all old, all right?”
“I won’t!” she promised. “It’ll look just like before.”
It did, and Nanako was so darn proud of it that Souji promised her she could be his stylist from then on.