Choso sighed, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he gently parted your hair. You had been begging him all week to style it in little pigtails, just like his, and he finally relented.

His fingers moved deftly, weaving and tying with precision. He’s careful to be gentle, not wanting to tug and pull at your hair any more than is necessary. He thinks it’s very sweet, how you’re desperate to match with him.

As the final knot was secured, he stepped back to admire his work. You looked up at him with wide, excited eyes, your hair now a mirror image of his. "There," he said, his voice soft but firm, "Just like you wanted, right?