The haircut to end all haircuts

“Um,” I blinked rapidly while trying to explain my situation; with the wall-sized mirror in front, my sweat-covered forehead was visible, and even a vein popped. When was the last time I was under this much stress about something? I wasn’t a great communicator nor a great liar. Being isolated at home for almost half a decade had rendered me useless. After what felt like a minute, Sasaki broke the awkward silence.

“Ah, not feeling like talking as usual I see. Very well, but how would you like your haircut?”

He gently combed my hair straight down to measure its length. Of course, since I sucked at talking, I’d let my art do the work. Reaching into the pockets of my shorts, I pulled out my phone, which had a cropped screenshot of my hentai protagonist locked and loaded. Shoving this image to Sasaki’s face would make it easy for him to know what I wanted, or so I thought.

“Uh…” he rumbled. “R-Rin, are you showing me the right picture?”

Huh?

I looked at what I had on-screen. Needless to say, not only did my heart sink to a bottomless black hole, but my eyes widened and were ready to cry. I showed him one of the adult scenes of my hentai art, which was literally next to the cropped art of my character in my phone album. Rookie mistake.

My stomach turned; it was even worse with the mirror in front of us, as I got to see Sasaki’s full expression to me showing him porn. His eyes were wide open in shock like mine, but a small smirk emerged between his lips. Despite his old age, I couldn’t notice a single wrinkle on his face at that moment. He knew of the mistake I made, and one tap would make him burst in laughter. Every bone within me cringed, and I grew light headed by the second. It was time to leave. I couldn’t just go on like this - it would be too awkward and embarrassing.

“Hey, wait!” Sasaki yelled as I rose from the chair like a spring board, almost slamming into his chin. Without even thinking about the cape still around my neck, I darted for the door with half-opened eyes. One other customer was already waiting in the seating area, and of course his assistants were watching the scene I caused with front row seats. I couldn’t bear to see the reactions on their faces as their customer ran away from the salon, especially right before the haircut began.

The bells almost dropped to the floor as I bursted through the door, swinging it back harder than intended. My teeth were clenched as I ran; I couldn’t imagine the shocked faces of everyone. My head only repeated the following words: I’m not going out ever again.

Never have I run so hard in my life while tracing the exact path I came from. The warm air blew against both my face and my hair in the opposite direction, but that didn’t slow me down. On a sizzling day like today, any wind felt like sticking my head into a freezer. My glorious burst of shame, however, was cut short: just as I reached the playground of Tachibana-no-oka park, I screeched to a halt once I caught sight of a few new couples which littered the area.

Where the hell did so many couples come from?!

I rubbed my eyes to cleanse the hideous view in front of me. Not only was a boy pushing a girl on a swing, but other couples were found at the benches, picnicking on the plain grass, or even just walking around holding hands. It made me want to vomit.

Ugh, stupid love birds. Why can’t they take their public displays of affection somewhere else? I thought as I spun around to run a different direction home, only to mutter: “Shoot, are you kidding me.”

Despite scouring the area, not a single corner of the park was free of people. I looked down at my phone: six o’clock. Parents were probably taking their kids out to the park after working all day. Just thinking about these societal routines almost made me want to crouch down or even bury myself.

Guess I’ll have to walk around the park.

The least crowded way back home now was going around the edge of the park rather than continuing past the playground and through the flocks of people. I placed a hand on my chest to calm my breathing as I walked. While the path was closer to the shops on the street, only one shop - a manga shop - was still open, so barely anyone walked on the sidewalk during the evening.

“Welcome!” the store owner caught sight of me from his entrance and waved. Screw off, I thought. That bright smile and those gleaming eyes of his were covered by dollar signs upon seeing a potential customer.

I waved but didn’t bat an eye. No way was I speaking to another human being outside.

“Huh?”

Like many other shops on the street, this manga store had a window display to showcase its latest releases. I gasped upon seeing one particular art piece which sat on an easel in the center.

My…my art!?

My jaw dropped to the ground, and my body almost followed suit. My art. My ART. My art was being sold as a cover for a manga at a store literally next to where I lived. And not only that; the art I drew was for an adult doujinshi - which meant more of my adult drawings were probably inside the book. Yet not a single trace of my pen name - Rio Akane - was found on the cover.

“Uh, sir?” the storekeeper waddled over like a penguin with his uniform still on. “Are you alright? Did something catch your eye?” His gleaming eyes persisted.

My body slowly approached the door to his shop without a word. My feet stomped harder and harder against the wooden floor as they entered the facility. The store owner, who followed from behind with continuous greetings and whatnot, carefully observed me. Everything about him was a nuisance - his body language, his ridiculous voice, and most of all, his attempt to profit off of my art.

“Uh, sir? Can you even hear me?” He asked, but backed off with a “Yikes!” after I glared back at him with fire in my eyes. “S-Sorry! I’ll leave you alone… just call me if you have any questions!”

Damn right I have a question… Why are you selling my precious hentai art in your store?!

Of course I could never actually say that. Instead, I picked up the book, paced over to the counter, placed a clean thousand yen bill on his tray (which was supposed to be for my haircut), and walked out of the shop - all while leaving perhaps both a look of dismay and happiness on that storeowner’s face.

“Ah,” I turned around one final time to the owner before departing. His stoned face perfectly matched his egg-shaped head. Lifting the book up, I pointed to the cover, and then pointed to myself, gesturing to him about who the artist was.

His cheeks grew cherry red, and his arms fell to his sides.Upon the hilarious sight of his shocked face, I turned back around and ran. My face was probably just as red from embarrassment.