The Kyoto Salon Visit: From Her View
It was another long day of school, and Ayumi was glad to finally have some time to herself. Her uniform blazer felt heavy under the weight of the warm Kyoto afternoon, and she tugged at the sleeves as she walked into her usual neighborhood salon. The familiar bell chimed above her, signaling her arrival.
The salon was cozy, its pastel walls and warm lighting inviting her into a calm space away from the noise of the city. Ayumi was here for her regular appointment—a wash and blowout, something she always looked forward to. Her hair, long and straight, was her pride and joy, and she loved how it felt after a professional touch.
The receptionist greeted her with a nod as Ayumi slid into a chair in the waiting area. She pulled out her phone and began scrolling through social media, losing herself in cute cat videos and memes. Her long, dark hair fell loosely over her shoulders, brushing the back of her seat.
The Stylist Arrives
“Miss,” a calm voice interrupted her scrolling. She looked up to see a young man, probably in his late twenties, wearing a black mask and neatly pressed black shirt. His dark eyes held hers briefly before glancing at the clipboard he carried. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Ayumi said with a polite nod, standing and following him to the washing station.
She hadn’t seen him here before, but salons often hired temporary help during busy times. He seemed professional enough, and his demeanor put her at ease.
The Wash
Ayumi reclined in the chair, closing her eyes as warm water cascaded over her scalp. The man adjusted the flow, ensuring it was just the right temperature. His hands were steady and confident as they worked shampoo into her hair, the rhythmic motions instantly relaxing her.
“Is the water okay?” he asked softly.
“Yes, it’s perfect,” she murmured.
His fingers massaged her scalp with firm but gentle pressure, and Ayumi let out a small sigh of contentment. There was something almost therapeutic about the way he worked, his touch precise and deliberate. She noticed he lingered slightly longer than her usual stylist, but she chalked it up to his attention to detail.
When he rinsed the shampoo and began applying conditioner, his hands moved smoothly through her hair, detangling it with his fingers. The floral scent of the products filled the air, making her feel as though she were in a garden.
The Blowout
After the wash, the man led Ayumi back to a styling chair. He draped a cape over her shoulders and began brushing her hair, starting from the ends and working his way up to ensure there were no knots. Ayumi couldn’t help but smile slightly as she watched him in the mirror. He worked with the focus of an artist, sectioning her hair and using a round brush to create sleek, glossy waves.
“Your hair is beautiful,” he said softly, his voice calm and professional.
“Thank you,” Ayumi replied, blushing a little. She wasn’t used to compliments, especially about something she worked so hard to maintain.
As he continued drying her hair, she noticed how meticulously he worked, his hands occasionally brushing against her scalp. Each pass of the brush left her hair smoother and shinier, and by the time he finished, it felt lighter than air.
“All done,” he said, stepping back.
Ayumi turned to the mirror, her eyes widening at the result. Her hair was perfect—sleek, voluminous, and flowing like a silk curtain. “It’s beautiful,” she said, running her fingers through it. “Thank you so much.”
Aftermath
The man gave a polite nod and stepped away. Ayumi assumed he was going to clean up or prepare for another client, so she returned to the front desk to pay. The receptionist greeted her warmly and processed the transaction, commenting on how lovely her hair looked.
It wasn’t until she walked out of the salon and headed home that she noticed something odd. Her usual stylist, who often came out to say goodbye, hadn’t been there. And now that she thought about it, the man who worked on her hair hadn’t introduced himself properly.
Shrugging it off as a busy day at the salon, Ayumi brushed the thought aside and focused on how great her hair looked. She had no idea that her experience had been captured on camera, her every moment shared with strangers online.
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