Matcha's mother

"So, by "kooky cop" what do you mean?" Rika asked.

"Like the cop who showed up at my place seemed like she was from the moon. She went on and on about crap I couldn't make sense of," Helga grumbled.

"Like what?"

"I'm getting to that! It was something she really wouldn't stop pushing me on. She kept asking, ‘Where'd ya learn how to stab that guy in the hand?’ What the hell is she talking about!? I told her she was crazy, and she nearly locked lips with me when she looked me in the eyes. But it got worse. Just a few hours ago, some creepy girls were hanging around the front. I recognized them as the yoga freaks from the banquet. I panicked and ran out the back, and they stalked me. I then realized your place was packed and decided to duck in, and here we are."

"Shit, the cult must have mistaken her for me," Rika thought.

"Since those creeps seem to recognize me, I'm thinking of ditching this look, so they don't recognize me," Helga shuddered.

This was the first time Rika had ever seen Helga this terrified before.

"Rika, are you almost done? We kinda need you in the kitchen," Matcha asked.

"Just a bit more. Hey Matcha, you said your mom works at a salon, right? How late they open until?"

"9:30 is closing time."

"Perfect, it's 8:45 right now, so Helga, stick around here and I'll go to the salon with you closer to 9."

"I wasn't asking for your company," Helga scowled.

"Not out loud at least. Sit back and relax and I'll be done in a flash."

...

Helga twiddled her fingers on the table until Rika finally returned. "Alright, all changed, let's go get you a mohawk," Rika teased.

"NO! I'm not cutting a single strand of hair off!" Helga glared.

"Are you heading out?" Matcha asked.

"Yeah, wanna join us and say hi to your mom?" Rika asked.

"I'd rather not, but I also don't like the idea of you two going out alone, so I'll tag along. Not like Masaru's letting me do much in the kitchen. Benihime can probably handle the cooking anyway."

"Great, then you can introduce us," Rika smiled as she grabbed Helga's and Matcha's arms and began dragging them out.

"Hold on! I'm still in my uniform!" Matcha protested.

"No worries, besides we wanna get there before 9:30, so what's the place called?"

"Punk Maiden Rebellion Salon and Spa," Matcha groaned.

"Wait, your mom works THERE!? That's the place Waki went to get her mohawk. She said all the employees are punk women covered in tattoos, so is your mom-"

"TATTOOS!? Like hell I'm going to a place like that!" Helga shrieked.

"They aren't yakuza. They're just rebellious, that's all. Even though they primarily bill themselves as a rebellious punk salon, they do fully provide the normal services of any old salon. I mean, before they rebranded, they were actually a fancy high-class salon," Matcha explained.

"So why the hell did they go from a high-class salon to a delinquent factory?"

"Cause that's the direction the new manager decided to take the salon in. It was pretty risky, and they did lose a good portion of their upper-class customers, but they were able to do somewhat well, in the short term at least. To be honest I'm surprised that place has lasted almost 10 years. Though now that it's just my mom and like one or two other employees, I doubt the salon will last. No one wants to work there for various reasons."

"Well now I really DON'T want to go there!"

"Relax. I don't hold my mother in high regard, but she is skilled at her craft. The other girls are also cool and will happily fulfill any requests you have."

...

Helga scowled when she stared at the posters hanging in the salon's windows. One featured a woman clad in a black skirt, sneakers, and bandage bindings covering her breasts. She was bald, had no eyebrows, and covered in white body paint as well as splotches of multicolored paint which dripped down her face and body. The other poster featured a woman clad in a neon pink skirt, neon green sneakers, and bandage bindings covering her breasts. She had no eyebrows, a large lime green mohawk, piercings adorning her ears, nose, and mouth, and tattoos running down her head, face, and body.

"I'm not going in if I'm gonna come out looking like those freaks on the poster," Helga glared.

Rika and Matcha rolled their eyes and dragged Helga in. Inside, the three found the girls from the posters lounging in salon chairs. Both looked exactly as they did in the posters.

"Hi Matcha, bring some friends?" The woman with the mohawk smiled.

"This is... my mother," Matcha groaned.

“Name’s Mocha, so how crazy we gonna get?” the woman smiled as she struck a cute pose.

"That's your mom!? She's hardcore," Rika whistled.

"No need to compliment me," Mocha cutely blushed, much to Matcha's annoyance.

"The one over there is Hina. Despite her looks, she's actually quite girly. She's also one of the nicest girls I know," Matcha smiled as she glanced at the bald woman covered in paint.

"Welcome in. You here for a makeover?" Hina asked in a cute angelic voice.

"Wow, you look just like you do in the poster. Do you paint yourself like that every day?" Rika asked.

"Oh, most of this is actually tattoos," Hina smiled.

"Nope, not-"

"Just sit down!!" Rika and Matcha glared as they shoved Helga into a chair.

"So, what we doing for you and your friends?" Mocha smiled.

"She just wants her hair dyed back to white, nothing more. Not my friend either," Matcha groaned.

"Don't worry, we're cool girls. We respect our customer's wishes. If you want to just get your hair dyed, that's all we'll do," Hina smiled as she walked up to Helga.

"Can't take you seriously. Like what possessed you to shave all your hair off and tattoo yourself like that!?" Helga glared.

"Most of us that worked here back then came from overbearing upper class families, me included. I was set to get an arranged marriage to some jerk. But well, I got a makeover and ended up disowned instead. It was a bit terrifying at first and I constantly get weird looks and to this day. But I chose to do this, and I don't regret it in the slightest. Now, white dye? Eyebrows too?"

"Eyelashes too. They're naturally white."

"Well, that's a first, but rest assured I've got over a decade of cosmopolitan experience, so let's give it a go."

As Matcha attempted to leave, Mocha stopped her. "Hmm? What's with the uniform? Wait, did you get hired by a restaurant!? Why didn't you tell me!? We need to celebrate!" Mocha cheered.

"Wait, you didn't tell your mother about getting your license back?" Rika asked.

"YOU GOT YOUR COOKING LICENSE BACK!? Why didn't you tell me sooner!?"

"Because I didn't want to," Matcha grumbled.

"Well, guess you're still rebellious. Now take a seat, I'm gonna make your hair silky and shiny and glow up your face. You gotta look sexy for your new gig! Oh, should probably do your fingernails too so you can cook in style."

"Ugh, make it quick," Matcha groaned as she obediently sat down.

"Wow, I'm surprised you listen to your mother's requests," Rika teased.

"Shut it! I just want her off my case!"

"Well, guess I'm stuck watching," Rika sighed.

"Oh, we actually have a young stylist in training if you don't mind," Mocha smiled.

"Well, guess I'll just get a basic style and facial."

"Perfect! Mochi! Come on out!"

A young girl with long pink hair wearing a middle school uniform emerged from the back.

"This is my youngest daughter, Mochi. I know she looks small, but she's talented and super smart," Mocha gushed as she caped Matcha.

"Oh, hey Mochi. Please help," Matcha frowned.

"You brought that fate upon yourself, Matcha-nee-san," Mochi sighed.

"Well, guess I'm in your care. Just don't shave all my hair off," Rika laughed as she sat down.

"Rest assured, not me nor any of the employees are like that."

"Sweet, though it might have been funny to see Masaru's reaction if I got something wild. Eh, whatever, I like my hair anyway. So, why's Matcha so grumpy?"

"In the most scientific terms, it is as my mother stated, a rebellious phase. Though both me, her, and our older sister were picked on after our mother adopted her current radical look 9 years ago. Many thought she was from a gang even though she and my father made it abundantly clear she wasn't."

"How close you with Matcha?" Mocha hollered at Rika.

"An annoying self-proclaimed friend whom If I don't keep an eye on, gets into trouble," Matcha grumbled.

"Oh, then tell her all about me Mochi," Mocha smiled.

"Very well. Part of the reason my mother went with her radical look, is due to the fact that the tattoos you currently see littering her back, were actually present long before she became a stylist," Mochi stated.

"Wait, so then-"

"She never told us exactly how bad her life was or how she got the tattoo. My theory is that she was kidnapped by a gang and received the tattoo in captivity. She most likely ended up in that scenario due to her poor upbringing that forced her to resort to theft for survival."

"Yeah, that's exactly what Matcha told me," Rika stated.

"While her tattoos probably wouldn't turn any heads in other parts of the world, here it's a pretty big deal. Once the salon decided on rebranding, my mother happily bared her tattoos and even got some new ones for her new look. Just like Hina, she does get some weird looks and confrontations with law enforcement, but overall rocks her look with pride."

"Wow, you're mom's a badass."

"She certainly has the resolve of one, though she does tend to act a little paranoid at times."

...

Matcha blushed in embarrassment as she sat under the dryer in between Helga and Rika with facial cream smeared on her face and her hair covered in a hairnet and hair mask. "Why, Mother? I look like an idiot," Matcha moaned.

"Why are you moaning? We look good," Rika cooed as she took a picture of herself and sent it to Masaru.

"This cream better not mess up my face," Helga glared as she gazed at her phone.

"Don't worry ladies. That's our signature beauty cream that'll make your face look young and vibrant for years to come. Just look at the wonders it's done for me at 37," Mocha giggled.

"You're 37!? Damn, girl you look 15 years younger," Rika cooed.

"Part of my charm along with my hawk," Mocha cooed as she ran her hands along her signature lime green mohawk.

"Believe it or not, she's actually a natural blonde," Hina laughed as she pulled up a picture on her phone and showed it to everyone.

"Oh wow, that brings me back. That was when you first joined, and I was forced to be the guinea pig for your dye training."

"I messed up big and ended up mixing the dyes, resulting in her getting green hair and brows. It was thanks to her being a good sport that I didn't get fired," Hina smiled.

"Nah, you wouldn't have been fired for THAT. On a customer, sure, but on me, nah. Besides, I kept the green hair until I embraced the hawk. Show them how prim and proper you looked," Mocha giggled as she zoomed in the photo on a beautiful girl with short black hair.

"Wait!? THAT'S what you looked like before!?" Helga gasped.

"Yup. Surprising right? I really got an extreme makeover," Hina smiled as she stuck her tongue out.

"Most of the girls that worked here when we rebranded came from overbearing families. We all ended up deciding to take the salon in a more rebellious direction and even adopt some rebellious new looks ourselves. Sadly, of the 10 women in that old photo, only 3 of us are still working here today," Mocha somberly sighed.

"What happened?" Rika asked.

"Well, various things. Though the worst was probably when the double murder occurred her 9 years ago. That resulted in us losing three of our employees and was ultimately the cause of why we ended up rebranding in the first place."

Helga immediately grew uncomfortable.

"Mother, let us leave it at that. If any of them wish to hear the story for themselves, they can just read the salon's blog post I typed on the matter," Mochi stated.

Suddenly, the door to the salon swung open. "Apologies but we're closing-"

"Mocha-chwan!" a man with a round face and thinning pink hair swooned as he leapt towards Mocha.

"Darling!" Mocha cooed as the two began flirting.

"Just great, it's my father," Matcha grumbled.