Chapter 1:
The Cobalt-Blue Charm
ON HER WAY OUT OF THE BACK ROOM, KASUGAI Satoko paused in front of a mirror. She ran her fingers through her ponytail, making sure that the loose hairs framing her face were curled into S shapes. Next, she used her fingers to pinch the bangs that were trimmed above her eyebrows into place. A hairstylist’s own hair was their most obvious resume, so it was imperative to keep its style immaculate while they worked.
Taking a deep breath, she stood tall and cast smile magic on herself.
“Consider yourself an actress while you work, and be careful not to break character.” This was a lesson one of her senpai stylists had beaten into her five years prior when Satoko first began working at Salon Blan.
The main color inside the salon was white, with eight full-length oval mirrors lined up along the walls, each paired with their own styling chair. Sitting in one of the chairs near the entrance was a woman in her early twenties—a client Satoko had recently inherited from a kouhai stylist who’d quit to get married.
“Good morning, Maekawa-san,” Satoko greeted, peeking at her through the mirror. When their eyes met, Maekawa’s worried look transformed into a smile. “What did you think of your style last time?”
“It was wonderful. I’d like the same one today, please,” said Maekawa, adding that it was actually the first time she hadn’t worried about the way her hair grew at the nape of her neck. Seeing the smile on Maekawa’s face as she spoke, Satoko was relieved to hear that the switch between stylists had gone well.
Maekawa was a regular client who’d booked with Satoko’s kouhai at the start of her career and had stuck with her ever since. She had told that kouhai that she would follow her if she moved salons, but when she’d answered that she was retiring to help her husband with his work, Maekawa was at a loss over what to do. While Maekawa had come back to Salon Blan once so far, Satoko had worried that she might switch to a new salon after that.
Placing a towel on the woman’s shoulders, the stylist ran her fingers through her client’s hair from underneath. As she checked for spots where the hair had developed curls as it grew and how the dye had faded, Maekawa let out a little sound.
“Kasugai-san, I think there might be something on your sleeve,” she said, pointing at it in the mirror.
Satoko lifted her arm and looked at the back of her sleeve. Black stains dotted it like footprints. It seemed that she’d splashed colorant on herself without noticing.
“Ahh. I didn’t realize,” she murmured. It must have happened when I was doing that color first thing in the morning. And here I’d tried to be so careful, since this outfit is brand-new.
“It must be difficult being a stylist. I’d bet you end up ruining a lot of clothes, no matter how careful you are. Maybe stains wouldn’t show up as much if you wore black instead?” she suggested.
“When you wear black, your clothes blend in with the client’s hair while you’re standing behind them, and it gets harder to see where to cut,” Satoko explained. Plus, the color would run if bleach or perming fluid got splashed onto it, so it would likely have the same outcome. If she had to choose, she’d choose to wear brighter colors. “It’s all right. It happens all the time, and it’ll wash out enough that you won’t even be able to notice. Though I’ll probably end up staining it again right afterward.”
Once she had confirmed what Maekawa wanted, Satoko smiled and let her know that she would be mixing up her dye in the back room. There, Satoko stood at the sink and got some soap on her fingers before rubbing at the stain on her sleeve. Unfortunately, however, all that did was dilute the dye and spread the stain around. She’d been too late, and the dye had penetrated the fibers.
Just how many shirts that I love have I ruined this month alone?
As Satoko patted at her damp sleeve with a towel, an assistant stylist named Itou, who’d been working at the salon for half a year, poked her head into the back room.
“Kasugai-san, would you like me to put a cloth down and get ready for the color?”
“Yes, thank you!”
Itou must have heard her reply, but the woman stayed where she was, looking guilty. “Um, I might have been the one who stained your shirt,” she confessed.
“Huh?”
“I heard you talking to Maekawa-san a moment ago. I was at the station next to you this morning doing a color. I was rushing, and I ended up splashing dye onto the cloth and the floor. I mean, you don’t usually end up staining the back of your sleeve, do you? I’m so sorry!”
As her coworker paled and bowed her head, Satoko felt the tension leave her shoulders. While she would have stewed in self-hatred for a while if she’d been the one to ruin her own shirt, she could forgive someone else for doing it.
“Thank you for telling me,” Satoko said. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I understand, since I used to do the same thing all the time. I was so clumsy. I was slow doing foils, and then when I’d try to hurry up, I’d end up flinging dye everywhere. It got to the point where there were stylists who asked that I not be assigned as their assistant.”
“Really? I thought you were really skilled!” Itou exclaimed.
“Not at all! I’m always amazed to see how good you are, Itou-san. I was awful my first year here. If you’re available right now, I’d love some help with applying Maekawa-san’s color,” Satoko continued, much to Itou’s surprise, showing the assistant that she still trusted her. Itou, looking relieved, returned to the front. Getting back on track, Satoko started mixing up the dye.
In her first year at the salon, she’d been scolded so badly and so often that she ended up burnt out, making tons of mistakes. Every day was so painful for her that she even had to call off some days, whining that she just wanted to quit already.
The salon’s direction had naturally evolved with staff changes, but when Satoko had first gotten her job, employees had faced strict standards for things beyond their skills. There was training every evening, even if they ended up staying open later than usual anyway. When she once commented to a coworker that she was tired, she was scolded about how she should never forget that she could be seen through the window, even during training. She was taught that a place that made people beautiful needed be somewhere special, and that stylists couldn’t let themselves get too close to their clients.
Stylists were someone clients would talk to about things that they wouldn’t tell anyone else, like family problems, their love lives, and secrets at work. This was because stylists were strangers who were closer to them than anyone else. It was drilled into Satoko that the way to keep a proper distance was to not let them see your everyday life.
Satoko might have learned how to act as a top stylist should thanks to how hard she worked to live up to their expectations, but sometimes she didn’t know why it was she was still working this job.
Once she headed back out to the front and started doing Maekawa’s foils with Itou, Maekawa piped up and asked if she watched much TV.
“Not much. Sometimes I catch the news,” Satoko replied.
“There was an info program on when I turned the TV on this morning, introducing a hot shop in Shinjuku. It was a bookstore not far from here,” Maekawa explained.
“There’s a bookstore nearby?”
No such shop immediately came to Satoko’s mind. In the past, there had been a medium-sized one about a five-minute walk away, but they’d closed down a while back.
“It’s along the edge of Shinjuku Gyoen Park. You know, the one that’s also a tourist info center? They’ve got a shop cat.”
Satoko kept a smile on her face as she signaled Itou with her eyes for some help with the conversation.
“Oh, I know the one! The fancy bookstore that opened up last year with those big glass windows. It’s a tourist info center too?” Itou added, commenting that she’d never seen the cat. Apparently, she sometimes went to a café along the way to the park, so she knew the shop, even if she’d never been inside.
Maekawa’s voice brightened. “Yeah, that’s the one! I mean, there have been a lot more tourists around Shinjuku lately, right? They said in the interview that it’s important that we have more tourist info centers around, since they’re exploring further. The bookstore’s owner was born and raised in Shinjuku, so he’s familiar with the area. And! They say he’s super attractive!”
It seemed that Maekawa might have wanted to talk about the owner more than the shop itself.
“Look it up later,” Maekawa said. “It’s got an urbanite vibe, where you don’t have to put on airs and can just relax!”