braids his hair tbh
HAD ANYONE ELSE tried to even touch his hair, mitsunari would have swatted them away. he tends to hate it, tends not to trust anyone with it. but there’s something about the way kaidan handles his hair, firm concentration and steadiness ( and he knows he also needs something to do with his hands, and kaidan doesn’t half - ass anything ).
there’s something about the way kaidan handles his hair that is soothing. he’s been so damn tense since being shot up into space and with the reapers already in the process of destroying everything —— his adoptive father already passed, his home ruined, his friends likely fighting for their lives while he’s handling financials so far away.
safe, for now. but mitsunari has had a bad feeling about this place since being transferred here and the feeling has only gotten worse since the invasion.
if they had hours to spare and he had hair that long, he’d allow it to last —— because he knows that when this is all said and done, kaidan will be returning to the normandy, and mitsunari will be in the presidium’s financial district again, alone.
and being alone is so much harder when one has finally gotten used to not being alone.
quietly contemplative, eyes closed — until now, when he blinks up and realizes that his hair has been completed, and kaidan is holding a mirror in back so that he can better see the finished product. and he admires the biotic’s work, softening features displaying his approval, and he turns himself, allows himself to face kaidan.
such a shame, he thinks, every time, that the most pure and good of souls are the ones ravaged by war ; always the hearts that are sad and bleeding. mitsunari had told himself a very long time ago that he would not possess such a feeling soul. and, yet, here he is.
“ you’ll have to depart soon. ” it is a question, but it’s offered as a statement. he knows the answer.
“ nobody else treats my hair quite like you can. ” as if he needs to justify himself for what he’s about to say next.
“ i always hate to see you go. ”