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Haruaki sighed heavily as he stood in front of the mirror, pulling at the ends of his dark, unkempt hair. His ahoge bobbed stubbornly as he gave it a mournful glance. His hair had grown too long—unkempt and slightly unruly—and it was starting to get in his way. Normally, his mother would trim his hair for him, but he was far from home now, teaching at Hyakki Academy.
"I really need a haircut," Haruaki muttered, groaning. The idea of going to a salon filled him with dread. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust professionals—it was the thought of sitting there, surrounded by strangers, while someone fussed over him. To him, it felt harder than climbing Mount Everest.
"But I have no choice…" Haruaki sighed helplessly, slapping his cheeks as if to gather courage. "I just have to do it."
The plan was simple: head to the shopping district, find a reputable salon, and get his haircut done as quickly as possible. Yet, as Haruaki wandered down the bustling streets, he found himself standing nervously in front of an establishment that was definitely not a salon. The vibrant lanterns, the raucous laughter spilling out into the street, and the faint smell of alcohol and roasted snacks all pointed to one thing—a bar.
A very lively bar.
Haruaki stood frozen in front of the entrance, his face pale as he considered his next move.
"This... This is definitely not the right place," he stammered. As he took a shaky step back, a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder.
"WAAAAAH!" Haruaki shrieked in an embarrassingly high pitch, causing several passersby yokai to glance at him with raised eyebrows.
"Haruaki-kun?"
The familiar voice immediately calmed him. Turning around, he was met with the sight of his best friend.
"Ah, Rintarou-kun!" Haruaki exclaimed, relief washing over him.
Rintarou stood with his hands on his hips, an amused smirk playing on his lips. He wore an exquisite kimono with a colorful floral pattern, loosely draped around his slender figure. The vibrant garment highlighted his pale hair and the faint glow of his blue eye. Haruaki couldn’t help but blush slightly at how effortlessly beautiful he looked.
"Rintarou-kun! What are you doing here?" Haruaki asked, his voice a little too enthusiastic as he tried to cover his embarrassment.
"I should be the one asking that," Rintarou replied, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, you see…" Haruaki began, launching into an explanation of how he’d planned to go to a salon but somehow ended up here. By the time he finished, Rintarou was laughing so hard he had to clutch his sides.
"Haruaki-kun, you really are a dumbass"
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah…"
Rintarou wiped a tear from his eye and smiled at him. "Well, how about I accompany you? Clearly, you need someone to make sure you don’t wander into another club next."
"Really?!" Haruaki’s eyes lit up with hope. He looked at Rintarou with an almost childlike excitement that made the latter’s cheeks tint pink.
"Ahem," Rintarou coughed, crossing his arms. "Yeah, I’ll take you there. Don’t worry about it."
"Thank you, Rintarou-kun!"
As they walked through the bustling streets together, Haruaki chattered away about his students and his latest attempts to teach them properly, earning a few chuckles and retorts from the oni.
Eventually, they arrived at the salon, only to find the doors locked and a sign that read: CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS.
Haruaki stared at the sign, utterly dejected. "Oh no… It’s closed," he murmured, his shoulders slumping.
Rintarou sighed, tilting his head as he watched his friend’s face twist with disappointment. After a moment’s hesitation, he placed a hand on his shoulder.
"How about I cut your hair?"
Haruaki’s eyes widened. "Eh? You know how to cut hair?!"
"Yeah, just a bit," Rintarou replied, shrugging nonchalantly. "Come on, let’s go back to your place. It’ll save us the trouble of wandering around aimlessly."
Haruaki hesitated, but the thought of Rintarou helping him made him feel a little less nervous about the whole ordeal.
"Okay! I’ll leave it to you, Rintarou-kun!"
Rintarou amused, smiled, and gestured for him to follow.
Once they reached Haruaki’s room, Rintarou instructed him to fetch a pair of scissors and something to drape over his clothes. Haruaki quickly rummaged through his belongings, producing an old scarf and a pair of slightly dull scissors.
"This will have to do," Rintarou muttered, tying the scarf around Haruaki’s shoulders. "Now sit still."
Haruaki obediently plopped onto the chair, his back straight and his hands clasped nervously in his lap. Rintarou combed his fingers through Haruaki’s hair, untangling a few knots with surprising gentleness.
The soft snipping sound of the scissors filled the room as Rintarou worked with precision, trimming away the excess strands and shaping Haruaki’s unruly locks into something more manageable. Haruaki found himself relaxing under Rintarou’s touch—the rhythmic snips, the faint brush of fingers against his scalp, and the calming presence of his friend all combined into a strangely soothing feeling he never felt before.
"Rintarou-kun, you’re really good at this," Haruaki mumbled dreamily, his eyes half-lidded.
"Of course I am," Rintarou replied, a teasing lilt in his voice. "You should feel honored, Haruaki-kun. Not everyone gets the privilege of having me cut their hair."
Haruaki laughed softly, the sound making Rintarou’s lips quirk into a small smile.
After a while, Rintarou stepped back and nudged Haruaki with a mirror. "It’s done."
Haruaki blinked, feeling a pang of disappointment that the pleasant experience had ended so quickly. He took the mirror and gasped as he saw his reflection. His hair was neatly trimmed, the layers falling naturally around his face.
"Rintarou-kun! This is amazing!" Haruaki exclaimed, his face lighting up with awe.
Rintarou turned away, pretending to inspect the scissors as a faint blush spread across his cheeks. "Well, it wasn’t that hard."
"When I need a haircut again, I’ll ask you!"
"Don’t get ahead of yourself," Rintarou grumbled, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He turned back to him, ready to scold him, but froze when he saw the pure, radiant smile on his friend’s face.
Haruaki was beaming as he admired his reflection, running a hand through his freshly cut hair.
"I guess it’s not that bad," Rintarou muttered under his breath, his cheeks still faintly pink.
Haruaki turned to him, his eyes sparkling. "Thank you, Rintarou-kun. You’re the best!"
Rintarou clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, though the warmth in his chest betrayed his outward grumpiness.
"Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make it a habit."
But deep down, Rintarou didn’t really mind.