Reyson has Yoshiki pegged on the volcano front if the wide eyed goggling the boy does through the fringe of his hair is any indication. He's still trying to figure out if Reyson means it literally or not when he transitions to the subject of sisters, which makes Yoshiki soften into knowing sympathy.

"My little sister always wanted to mess with mine when she was younger," he says, glancing at a leaf blowing by on the path in front of them. He'd always let his hair grow out longer than some other boys, and he recalls her chubby baby fingers grabbing at his bangs with a newfound pang of nostalgia.

"I don't remember when she stopped." He goes quieter, eyes still trained on the leaf. "I wish..."

He wishes he knew that. He wishes he was home, so he could ask her to put a tiny braid in his bangs for old time's sake. He wishes he knew when he'd see her again.

"...I bet dress codes're different in America, anyway. Probably won't ask you to do anything."