Chitose Himmawari was never a small-town girl, but she fell in love with it when she visited her grandmother last winter. She wanted to get away from the life she had worked so hard to build as a beautician, and she wanted a literal change.
Shibuya was a charming small town with a breathtaking view. Within months, she had made her decision to settle down. So her first priority was to find work from whatever few options were available. She worked hard to get a job, but it's unlikely that anything came to mind. A voice spoke to her as she paused near a tea shop, unsure what to do.
"Have you ever worked in a barbershop before?" a shrill voice asked as she turned to see the pale white lady dressed in a black kimono. She didn't notice her, but her traditional appearance captivated her.
"Technically, no," she paused, looking around, "but as you can see from my resume, I have worked in several salons throughout the city."
"Chitose, if that's your name, my parlour is no joke; it may look retro, but people come in with their own memories and stories," she explained. "People come in, get their hair cut or shaved, and then leave," she piped in.
"I understand. And I would not have any issue at all."
" Let me train you for few months and recommend you to a good salon to work"
"Really, then I will take the iffer
The lady smiled and stood up"Okay, Miss Himmawari, How about you join Monday and I will teach you?"
"Sounds fantastic!" she was enthused.
The lady bowed, "To the Winds of flower, to the stream of the river, Katsumi Kejoro at your service" she said as she hands over her card and instructs where her shop was and that's how Chitose Himmawari had landed her first job in this town.
The first day she walked into the bamboo build dominion, it felt strangely odd but not uncomfortable. She was thought and learnt and tend some customers mostly kids
Her dread was those clippers, those noisy, buzzing machines that fascinated her as much as they terrified her. She felt a quiver between her legs every time the Kejoro clamped a hand on the client's head and ran them mercilessly. I had no idea there had been some kind of power exchange between the Kejoro and the poor victim on the chair that had gotten her a little too excited. She was curious as to why women shaved, but it's a men's thing, but she observed how the delicate lady tended to the clients without hesitation.
"I'm not sure why anyone would let their hair grow in the summer. As if global warming wasn't bad enough already! "She made a remark after the customer had left.
"Its their choice, they just needs a good stylist" the woman added.
After a few hours, The woman dressed up and called Chitose " can you watch the shop for a bit? I need to run an errand."
"Sure," She said.
Once she left had left, Chitose was all by myself. Since it was late afternoon, she knew that they're would hardly have a customer, especially on a sultry day like this.
She braved herself and slowly climbed onto one of those large chairs out of curiosity. It was oddly thrilling to feel the leather of the palm rests. It had a strong, masculine vibe to it, as well as something forbidden. She felt submissive sitting there, from the cold metal of the legrests to the sturdy construction of that barber chair. And she wondered if every customer who got shorn in that chair felt the same way. She shook her wavy curly hair as she looked in the mirror.
"Comfy?"
As her eyes flew open and she saw the Kejoro's reflection in the mirror, a voice cut into her thoughts.
"Oh, I didn't hear you come in," she mumbled, embarrassed.
The lady approached the chair from behind, raising a brow at her.
"Yes," she replied after an awkward pause. "It's actually much more comfortable than the others I've been in."
"You have many damaged roots," the woman observed as she ran her fingers through her hair, staring at the roots that had begun to show weeks before.
"Nope. Two years back, I got this incessant craze to color my hair, I try and keep it up," she fibbed, hiding the fact that her ex-boyfriend had a thing for colored woman "Except, there's hardly a salon in this town and I guess I have do it myself."
"Or you can let your natural hair color grow out," Kejoro suggested. she stood directly beside her and took a few strands between hier fingers and then inspected Chirose's long hair and passed her bra-strap. Somehow, the quiver between her legs intensified.
"It will look really weird unless i dye my entire length. And that's going to be a job!"
"If length is the problem, then cut it short," the woman proposed.
"What?"
She stood back "Something short and manageable would look good."
The woman held her chin lightly and murmured, "Something here…" "Or maybe over the ears…" she said, pushing the hair behind her ears.
Chirose did not know if it was their touch or the dread of a short-haircut , but she was positively frozen. "I…I have never had short hair," she stammered. "Maybe back when I was 6, but I can't remember the last time I had short hair."
The Kejoro's red eyes met her eyes in the mirror. "All the more reason you should try."
"Oka-ay. I will think about it."
She gripped the hand-rests and tried to push herself off the chair when a strong pair of hands grabbed her by her shoulders and put her back in place.
"There's nothing to think about," Kejoro said decisively. "You have been here for months, and you have seen quite a number of short haircuts by now."
She tcombed the sides with her fingers, almost as if Chitose were her muse. "I have seen you staring at the clippers when I was razing that overgrown business mop and you were wondering how it would feel against your scalp."
"No…I was…" she said but the woman cut her off.
" Do not worry, let me take care of this"
In less than a minute, a strip of tissue was tied around her neck, followed by a long flowing cape that almost felt like a heavy collar. The Kejoro grabbed a brush and started to detangle the mane.
"When was the last time you had a haircut?"
"I had a trim about three months ago."
"Trim?" she looked up, snorted and went back to brushing. "That's the most ridiculous."
"I hate when someone comes in a say that they want a trim," she added. "For God's sake, mops are not trimmed but shorn."
In the mirror, Chitose watched with shock as the lady checks on her hair
"What should we do? Get rid of the damn volume first.
The Kejoro carried on the conversation as if she were invisible. "How about something summer appropriate?" She proposed.
"Um.... I was thinking of the same." she was unable to resist, she had to intervene before the woman decided the fate of her hair. "But…I thought a bob would be…"
"Hush. Be quiet, child," she admonished. "If you work like this , even a professional stylist will tell this. You are under my hands, . And that means, you got to lose this ugly mop. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mam."
"Do not worry, I will make you beautiful"
She swiveled the chair around, having Chitose face the door rather than the mirror. And the nervous knots in her stomach tightened even more at the thought of not being able to watch what is being done to her hair. And before she could formulate the next thought, a hand clamped over her crown, pushing it down.
"Head down and no squirming on the seat," the Kejoro said, suddenly donning a dominant persona. She bunched her long hair in one hand and grabbed the clippers with another. The noise changed when it came in contact with her hair, and within seconds, the entire length came off.
Chitose gulped. Seven years of pampered growth snapped in a jiff. What the hell ?
"Dear! It's a load," the woman commented. "You are gonna thank me later."
The Kejoro fired up the clippers once again and the moment she felt the vibrations touch her skin, shr shivered. The adrenaline rush coursed through every vein, pushing her heart rate to a heightened level. She was both scared and excited—and most importantly, aroused.
The lady would deliberately swipe the object, flick her wrist and deposit the hair into Chitose's lap while she had no choice but to remain a mute victim to this slaughter. She watched—helplessly—as the clippings heaped while Katsumi Kejoro adjusted her head a little too roughly as she would do to her customer. Strangely so, she did not seem to mind.
When the buzzing stopped, The lady moved closer and abundantly ran her fingers over the buzzed nape. "I think you should take it higher. It will really make her features sharp."
The knowledge that Chitose was near-bald at the back oddly excited me between her legs, and what the womans said next, was titillating.
"If we are going higher, let's give you a classic cut."
Chitise had only lifted my head a little, but The Kejoro caught it midway and pushed it back. In fact, she fisted the longish hair on top, tilted her head to the left and brought a different clipper to her sideburns. It climbed far too high, past brow level and short hairs slid down my cheeks. In slow, long swipes, she completed one side, moved on to my back, taking it almost to the crown and then to the other side as well.
The cool air touched the shaved skin, and Chitose knew for sure that she was bald at the sides and back. She could feel the severity of the cut when he touched it, and she had to bite back a moan between her lips. But Kejoro caught her reaction in a blink. Her fingers, joined and then ruffled the long hair on top.
"I wanted to get rid of these unnecessary tresses. It's short, but I will let her keep some hair," she said authoritatively.
Chitose was aching to the point she knew her control would not last for too long.
All she could see was her hair across the floor, severed from her head and without her consent. And yet, she could not bring herself to protest. She had silently let Kejoro take control.
The Kejoro ran the blades several times around the perimeter, merging the sides with the top that still bore a considerable length.
For a second, she thought she would leave the top as it is but the reprieve lasted only for minutes. The Kejoro then dampened the hair on top and picked up his trusted comb and scissors. Clumps of damp hair started to slide down the cape as he would grab a length between her fingers and snip it close. The anticipation almost killed her. Chitose knew that she was leaving the chair with the shortest hair, but suspense almost drove her to the edge of my control.
She gripped the arm rests and pushed her hips forward, seeking the smallest friction possible between her legs.
For once, shr released her head only to check the length on top. "Yep, all done," she announced. "What do you think?
The Woman turned the chair around, and Chitose could not recognise the reflection on the mirror. For one, She had not seen myself without the colored look and now it was completely replaced by my natural dark hair. And the sides and back were brutally shaved to the bone. It was one of those long pixie haircuts with nothing but the faintest layer of hair on top. It was essentially a cute and she did not know what to speak of.
"It's so short," she whispered, in obvious words.
"Well, it's gonna remain that way, girl," She said with a finality that stirred me. The woman took off the cape and dusted the clippings, finally letting the ordeal come to an end.
She thanked the lady and soon customers who came asked to have the same hairstyles of hers. As months went by, Chitose joined some top saloons and fulfilled her dream. She worked happily and sometimes helped the Kejoro during her off.