Prologue
I love twintails.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve believed the world is beautiful because twintails exist. To me, the sun isn’t that round thing shining in the sky—it’s the hairstyle that fills my vision. Maybe it’s an exaggeration to say twintails are my everything… actually, no, it’s not an exaggeration at all. It’s as simple as that: I love twintails more than anything else in this world.
Put simply, twintails are hair tied on both sides of the head. They look better with long hair, but even short hair gathered into little bunches is cute—it’s a simple, feminine hairstyle. The variations are endless, filled with infinite possibilities. Even if you don’t know the name, most people can picture it when you describe it.
But society at large tends to slap the “childish” label on twintails, and teenage girls desperate to appear mature cast aside anything that might make them look childish, one insecurity at a time. And unfortunately, twintails fall into that category; step by step, they get weeded out, eliminated through the process of growing up.
Anyways, once you’re an adult, women who can pull off twintails are pretty rare anyway—and as for the guys? Well, it’d be stupid to force that kind of request and piss off your partner. So … as you grow up, twintails become a distant thing.
That’s fine. That’s normal.
But I was different.
The older I got, the stronger my obsession grew. In crowded places, I unconsciously search for twintails; it’s like the image-editing software in my head just instantly throws a twintail layer on top of anyone I see. Since it’s all unconscious, it doesn’t bother me—but twintails occupy the majority of my life.
…Now, usually after hearing me go on and on about twintails this much, anyone who might’ve wanted to be friends with me tends to remember they’ve got somewhere to be and dashes for a quick exit. It’s always been that way.
Still, I have no regrets—I don’t feel self-conscious about it. A world where you can love what you love—that’s the best kind, right? Changing or hiding your preferences just because people don’t approve … that feels wrong, somehow.
That’s exactly why it’s so frustrating.
No matter how much I love twintails, as a guy, I can never become a twintail. Even if I spent years growing my hair out and finally tied it up, that still wouldn’t really be a twintail. All I have is a heart that loves them. Maybe I can never truly understand what it means to be one.
So I came to wish this feeling could take form. I wished this heart would take shape and appear before my eyes. That it might surely become the perfect twintail I’ve always imagined.
How wonderful that would be.
Always, always, I dreamed of it.
Until that day—the day I met her────────