Chapter Text
Yuuji’s jaw dropped in utter awe as he looked around the hair salon. The ceiling was high and from it cascaded a rain of crystal chandeliers. The mirrors made the room look infinite with light traversing the space and inhabiting crooks and corners, highlighting the gentle waves of the marble walls and the creases in the leather of the seats.
“Itadori-kun, please come,” his new boss said, snapping Yuuji out of his wonderment. He quickly nodded and followed the man, although his eyes kept wandering here and there. The salon was closed so early in the day, but Yuuji knew that he would be taken through the set-up before the opening hour. “Here at Seven Three, it is of course important that all clients are given the uttermost respect, Itadori-kun,” Nanami Kento continued as they made their way to the back of the salon. “We serve the rich and powerful of this country, as you may know, so discretion and a sense of confidentiality are also paramount.”
“I understand, Nanami-sensei,” Yuuji said even though he thought the man used long words.
Nanami opened a door at the back and ushered him in. It was a large space that could only be described as a break room, with a nicely fitted kitchen on the side, a few lockers, and couches and tables. It looked lived in and not nearly as neat as the salon itself, with books and magazines left on the coffee table, the coffee pot half-full with old coffee, a vase of bright yellow sunflowers, and he could even see a couple of plush toys on the couch.
“This is the staff room. Of course, you have to keep it clean and orderly at all times. All common tasks are listed over there and we are on a weekly roster,” Nanami supplied. “Your locker is over there. It’s unlocked but please do buy a padlock for yourself. You’ll find your uniforms in it. Please put one on and join me at the front desk when you’re done.”
Nanami then left and Yuuji waited for the door to close before he released a squeal he had been trying to contain ever since he came into the salon. Even though he was just an apprentice, this was a dream come true still. When he had been told a week ago that he was hired as the new apprentice, Yuuji had pinched himself almost every day, not believing his luck. The hiring process had been gruesome and felt more like an intensive examination process for a prestigious university than a job application, and Yuuji had been put against several dozens of other candidates.
But here he was now, at the mythic Seven Three, one of the most famous and exclusive hair salon in all of Japan. Yuuji liked to keep humble but a part of him felt like that was it. He’d made it.
“Sugoi,” he whispered when his eyes fell on the uniforms in the locker. It consisted of a tan waistcoat with matching trousers, and a white shirt. Could he really wear this? Yuuji suddenly wondered if Nanami-sensei had made a mistake in the hiring process. Perhaps there was another Yuuji Itadori out there, more elegant, from a better social background, who could wear clothes like these naturally.
Instead, the image the mirror gave him was that of a pink-haired young man with undercuts, that would look more fitting in a punk band or in a street gang than in a fancy hair salon. Although his twin brother Sukuna would have kicked him if he even tried to join a gang. Gang stuff were Sukuna’s domain and Yuuji — the softer twin — was forbidden from even thinking about it.
He could hear Sukuna’s voice in his head, telling him with a few expletives that the hair salon didn’t deserve him and not the opposite and that he had better take what was owed to him instead of whining. Yuuji took a deep breath. There was no going back now, was there? If anything, he would do his best and prove to them and himself that he belonged here.
He put on the uniform, leaving his cheap yellow shirt and blue shorts and his backpack in the locker, tried to look the part, and made his way to the front desk as he had been told.
There was another young man there dressed in the same uniform, although his hair was an explosion of dark soft strands.
“Ah, Itadori-kun,” Nanami said from behind the desk. His eyes went all over Yuuji, who tried not to squirm under the scrutiny. Satisfied with whatever he saw, he turned to the other man. “Fushiguro-kun, this is Itadori-kun. Our new apprentice,” he introduced. “He’ll take the station next to yours. Please take care of his induction while I finish his paperwork.”
Fushiguro turned to him and Yuuji was quick to bow and introduce himself.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Yuuji Itadori. I like video games and girls like Jennifer Lawrence.”
“Nice to meet you too. I’m Megumi Fushiguro,” the other man said, his voice soft but almost toneless. “Come on, I’ll show you where we work.”
Yuuji came and Fushiguro showed him where they would work. There were eight stations, which wasn’t even half of the stations Yuuji’s previous hair salon had. Then again, prices were triple the average prices of hair salons in Tokyo so Yuuji supposed it sort of made sense. Here, the power sockets were so discreet that Yuuji wouldn’t have seen them hadn’t Fushiguro pointed them out. Most stations only had their leather chair and a large mirror, but all tools they worked with were on trays that they’d have to roll through the hair salon when they had a client.
Fushiguro spoke with a flat, matter-of-fact tone, and Yuuji wondered if he was just that kind of person or if he personally disliked Yuuji already. Perhaps he could sense that Yuuji didn’t belong. After all, Yuuji had spotted the nice watch on Fushiguro’s wrist, the way he held himself straight like Nanami-sensei, the clipped posh accent when he spoke. And yet, his words were respectful, a bit fancy like Nanami-sensei’s. He showed Yuuji the washing area, gave Yuuji his rolling tray, instructed him on how they greeted clients, how to use the coffee machine, where to get the snacks to fill the constant small buffet that clients could eat from for free — clients, not them. They had to use the fridge in the break room.
By the time Fushiguro was done and Yuuji felt so overwhelmed with all the new information he was starting to regret not bringing a notebook, more of the staff came in, and Yuuji was also introduced to them.
There was a girl with light brown hair, cut in a perfect bob that gave off a sort of Anna Wintour look about her — and Yuuji soon found out that she had the temperament that matched the haircut too when she looked at him critically and called him a potato.
Another girl had green hair, and made Yuuji feel better with his pink hair instantly. And as the rest of the staff filtered in, he realised that actually he wasn’t the only one who didn’t look the part. He had expected everyone else to look like Fushiguro, more on the fancy side, but it looked more like they all belonged either in gangs — and Maki-senpai, the girl with the green hair, talked like one of them too — or in some boyband whose theme of the year was rainbow coloured hair.
“We will be opening in five minutes,” Nanami said, once everyone had put on their uniform and came to stand in the front room of the salon. Yuuji felt nervous, his hands clasped and moist. Outside, Omotesando had busied up, as the world most renowned luxury brands were getting ready to open up at the same time as them. Nanami gave them the appointments of the day, with their schedule almost already full although with still a few timeslots for rare walk-ins. “Itadori-kun, please stay,” he said once he’d dismissed everyone else.
That was it, Yuuji thought. Nanami realised he’d made a mistake and that he definitely wasn’t the Yuuji Itadori he’d wanted to hire.
“Please give me a chance, Nanami-sensei,” Yuuji said, bowing in front of the man. He should probably kneel actually and beg. Or perhaps he should lick Nanami’s perfectly polished leather shoes. Surely Italian leather tasted good, considering the price tag.
“Isn’t that why you’re here? Anyway, Okkotsu-kun has called in sick, so you’ll have to fill in for him today. He’s got a few regular clients and unfortunately the most important one has an appointment for today that he can’t delay,” Nanami said. “I’ve seen during the recruitment process that you’re very good with dyes, Itadori-kun. I was going to give him to Fushiguro but I think you’re more than capable of taking care of this one,” Nanami picked up a tablet on the counter and handed it over to Yuuji who took it carefully. The thing was worth a good chunk of his paycheck and Yuuji didn’t even want to put a thumbprint on it. “He’s on the whimsical side to say the least but he’s the heir of the famous Gojo clan. Read his file and memorise it. The appointment is at one, although he’s always late. I suggest you take your lunch break before that.”
“I’ll do my best, Nanami-sensei,” Yuuji said, even more nervous now after he’d heard the name and glanced at the file — first of all, they had files on clients, which was new to him. Nanami went back behind the reception desk where he did administrative work probably. Yuuji didn’t know what bosses did most of the time except bossing people.
He went back to his station — his station. He wanted to take a picture of it but he didn’t want the others to make fun of him. He’d have to wait until he was the only one around and he would send the picture to Sukuna so he’d get to be proud of him in his roundabout way.
He looked at the file, which gave general information about the client, including their habits, their loyalty status in the hair salon, and how they took their coffee — with five sugar cubes.
The man was a prominent figure that Yuuji had seen many times on TV. Satoru Gojo was heir to one of the largest Japanese conglomerates and clans. The clan itself was influential in business circles, but also held political seats, and Yuuji knew that some of its members were also musicians and artists. But out of all the brilliant people it had spawned through the centuries, Satoru Gojo was exceptional. The most exceptional of exceptional people. He was said to be sharp of mind and tongue, bringing even more money, power and prestige to his family in his thirty-two years of living than his whole family had done by themselves in over a century. The whole country was smitten with his looks and general physique though since he seemed unapproachable to most of them, at least not enough to really know if what was said about him were true.
“Oh, Gojo-san’s coming?” Megumi said from his left side.
“What, that annoying man has an appointment today? I can’t believe I left my earplugs at home,” Nobara Kugisaki — the young Anna Wintour — said from his right side. His station was sandwiched between theirs.
“Nanami-sensei said we should give clients the utmost respect.”
“He’s the exception to the rule,” Fushiguro said, pointing at the screen.
Yuuji looked at the man on the photo, perplexed. That didn’t seem to make any sense to him. Nanami-sensei just said that he was the most important of Okkotsu-san’s clients, after all.
But before he could ask more questions, clients started coming into the hair salon, and Yuuji’s first day at Seven Three properly started.
***
“Yuuji, let’s go to lunch,” Kugisaki said, some time just short of noon. Yuuji had just finished brooming away a client’s hair, keeping the floor as reflective as the mirrors surrounding them.
“Huh — I didn’t bring a bento,” he said, a bit embarrassed. It was his first day and Yuuji had been so nervous that he fell asleep late and woke up late.
“I suppose we can eat out today,” Fushiguro said as he cleaned his scissors with meticulous but practised precision. “But do bring your bento next time. It’s expensive around here and we can’t afford to eat out every day.”
“About that,” Yuuji scratched his neck and looked away. “I can’t afford to eat out. So you go without me. I’ll be fine, I promise. Plus Gojo-sama’s appointment is in an hour and I want to be ready for him.”
“First of all, he’ll eat you alive if you call him that. That’s his dad. You can just call him Gojo. We all do. Second, that’s nonsense, Yuuji. You’re eating. Fushiguro will pay.”
“Hey, I —”
“He said yes. Come now. Since he’s paying, let’s get some nice steak,” Kugisaki grabbed his arm and then Fushiguro’s — miraculously avoiding being stabbed by the sharp scissors — and dragged them away. Fushiguro kept mumbling about how he didn’t agree to pay for anyone, and Yuuji insisted that he was okay with starvation, but she was deaf to their words.
Instead, Yuuji was dragged to a restaurant in a mall nearby. It seemed like the cheapest option around, but the prices still made him blush and he picked a sandwich, then thanked Fushiguro profusely for paying with a credit card that probably shouldn’t belong to anyone under fifty years of age.
“Fushiguro’s rich. He probably can buy you the whole shop so stop licking his arse,” Kugisaki said.
“Please don’t ever use my name is the same sentence as arse and licking ever again.”
“I’m sure you secretly like that, you pervert. Are you being a prude just because Yuuji is new?” She continued her assault on poor — figuratively — Fushiguro. “How about you, Yuuji? Tell us more about you. You’re not from here, are you?”
“I’m from Sendai,” he said, trying his best not to sound too Sendai-ish. “Although my brother and I moved here after high school. He’s —” in a gang. “Studying at the University of Tokyo. Sukuna-nii is so smart. And I’m … well, here. Not that being here is bad. I actually can’t believe it.”
“So you’re the stupid brother?”
“Yes,” Yuuji beamed. “I mean … Sukuna-nii always says that I should stop thinking that because it reflects badly on him. Anyway, how about you too?”
One day Yuuji would learn that asking Kugisaki about herself meant one had to be prepared for the onslaught of punctuationless sentences, but today wasn’t that day.
“I came to Tokyo to be a model, you see,” she said. Yuuji sort of could see it, if people were into hiring psychopaths. “I studied fashion, with a part-time job as a beautician. One day I was hired as a part-timer for Massimo for the Rakuten Fashion Week, and that’s where I met Nanami-sensei. He was the hair stylist for Yoshikimono. He hired me, and I decided that I much prefer working at Seven Three in the end.”
Yuuji remembered many of the photos of the Rakuten Fashion Week from the previous years. The glossy fashion magazines and social media were how he too had found himself becoming a hair stylist, to be honest. And he knew that despite its very classical and chic front, Seven Three was the most fashion-forward hair salons in Tokyo. One of Yuuji’s recruitment tests had consisted of creating a hairstyle. And yet, the feeling that he was an imposter still remained, but for as long as he’d been alive, he’d felt that way. Sukuna was the brilliant Itadori. He was the second twin, the spare, the imposter.
“Nanami-sensei always hire the up-and-coming new stylists,” Fushiguro said, looking at him pointedly. “Most of us leave Seven Three after a couple of years or so there, because we find work with big names. It’s the best place to learn and become someone.”
Yuuji looked away. “I want to do my best and learn from someone like Nanami-sensei.”
Their food came a few moments later and Yuuji decided to properly enjoy each bite because this sandwich was the nicest sandwich he’d ever had in his life.
***
At one o’clock on the dot, Satoru Gojo was officially late. It didn’t seem to surprise anyone.
Their senpai were on their lunck break. It turned out that Kugisaki and Fushiguro were his age and not his senpai, and the feeling that he was behind everyone else here sat heavy in his chest.
Sure, they seemed to have been working for the same length of time, but Kugisaki’s experiences had been in high end salons, and the way Fushiguro spoke and helped him showed vast knowledge and experience beyond the hair salon.
Yuuji’s previous work experience had been in small parlours that did more street styling than fashion styling. Some of those salons had had to close shop as rent kept rising in Tokyo, and Yuuji, although never truly jobless, had seen his finances rocked by circumstances. Many times he had been afraid they’d sink and many times he had asked Sukuna if he could join the gang instead. But Sukuna would wack the words out of his mouth whenever he uttered them and then give him some pocket money and told Yuuji to keep pursuing his dreams.
“Itadori-kun,” Nanami called. Yuuji, who had been feeling a bit drowsy since his lunch and who definitely needed more sleep, almost jumped and stood from where he had been sitting on the client’s chair. A big no-no, if Nanami’s face was to go by.
Next to Nanami however stood the tallest man Yuuji had ever seen. The thing was, a meter ninety didn’t sound any taller than a meter twenty on paper. But the sheer scale of the man, the way he stood as if he owned the whole place — perhaps he did —, and the confident smile on his lips emphasised the whole meter ninety of him.
“Your client is here. Gojo-san, this is Itadori Yuuji, our new hire. Be kind to him.”
Yuuji was surprised that the last sentence wasn’t directed at him but at the other man.
“You wound me, Nanami. I’m always kind,” he said and patted Nanami’s shoulder as if they were pals, then stepped forward to Yuuji who had to look up.
Satoru Gojo was larger than life, it seemed, and Yuuji felt breathless, squeezed between the bluest eyes he’d ever seen.
“You should tell Itadori-kun what you want for today, Gojo-san,” Fushiguro said from somewhere on his left, saving Itadori from imminent death by suffocation.
“Megumi-chan. How have you been?” Gojo exclaimed, his entire posture changing and he threw an arm around Megumi and squeezed him too but like, physically. Not blue-eyed-ly.
“Worse since you’ve been here. Let me work, my client will be here soon,” Megumi moved away from the other man in practised shove and un-squeeze. “Itadori,” he hissed.
Yuuji snapped out of it and finally gathered all the confidence he had in him.
“Gojo-san, please have a seat and tell me what you want for today.”
That seemed to get Gojo’s attention and he turned his handsomely handsome face to Yuuji, who tried not to blush at the handsomely handsome face because that was unprofessional. Probably.
Gojo moved to look into the mirror and sighed. “The colour is fading, don’t you think, Yuuji-kun?” He asked as if he’d known Yuuji since forever and Yuuji’s known him since forever. Well, technically the latter was true to some extent. The Gojo clan was on the news at least once a week.
Gojo’s hair was white. Not in the same white that elders had, but more like fluffy clouds on summer days. It matched the blue sky of his eyes perfectly, and was quite a bold colour for someone who came from a centuries-old family. But Yuuji slowly nodded still, Nanami’s earlier comment coming back to him.
“We can refresh it, Gojo-san. How about the cut?”
“Refresh that too, Yuuji-kun,” he said and patted Yuuji’s head as if he was being a good dog.
“Huh — all right then. Let’s get you a cape,” Yuuji said. It’d be a shame if Gojo’s perfectly tailored suit got tainted by colouring. “Can I get you some coffee as well?”
“That’d be lovely. And pastries too. Knowing Nanami-kun, he’s told you what I like,” Gojo said and settled himself in the chair, crossing his long legs as if he were in his own living room.
“He did,” Yuuji lied. He’d read it in the file though, so it wasn’t completely a lie. Yuuji left quickly to get the snacks and the coffee first, trying his best to remember what he’d read.
Coffee, black, four … no, five, no six …
“Five,” Kugisaki said next to him, just coming out from the bathroom. “I could hear his loud annoying voice all the way into the ladies’ room. Stopped whatever vibe I had going on. Anyway, it’s five sugar, some kikufuku, some daifuku, and a couple of choux,” she dictated.
“Thank you, Kugisaki,” Yuuji said with a sheepish smile and quickly gathered everything and made his way back to his client. He frowned a bit as he heard Gojo talk and talk and talk Fushiguro’s ears off, and somehow Fushiguro looked irritated but Yuuji could see he was still listening. There were no other clients right now, but Yuuji knew the afternoon would be very busy after lunch time.
He rolled a small tray to Gojo’s side, who rewarded him with a grin and a bright ‘Thank you, Yuuji-kun’.
Yuuji mumbled something and then left again to get the things he actually needed to start taking care of Gojo’s fluff of hair. Because now that he was seated, Yuuji had seen the top of his head, and how his hair seemed to be so soft that comparing them to clouds might have been a mistake and they probably should event a whole new category of matter just to define Gojo Satoru’s hair.
Like fluff.
Gojo had his own cape at the hair salon, Yuuji knew, and he found it quickly among the regular’s capes. It had his name on it in silver. He also gathered the colour, a bowl and some brushes, before he came back to the man.
Gojo had popped an entire choux in his mouth and had fallen silent. It gave Fushiguro the occasion to go and greet his client properly. Yuuji helped the man into the cape and then started preparing the dye.
He was too chicken to ask the man if his hair was clean though. He just assumed that someone like Gojo probably didn’t even know the definition of dandruff.
Yuuji was just going to apply the dye to the best of his abilities and hope the Gojo clan wouldn’t come after him for disfiguring their cherished heir.
“Are you nervous, Yuuji-kun?” The man asked, looking at him through the mirror, as he pulled his dark sunglasses off, uncovering his entire face and desarming Yuuji at the same time.
“A bit, Gojo-san,” he said, sincere.
“Don’t be. Nanami only takes in the most talented people. And you look pretty competent. He wouldn’t have made you fill in for Yuuta-kun otherwise,” the words were softly spoken, warm and well-meaning. Kugisaki looked up from her phone briefly to look at Gojo, then at Yuuji, and then left to the break room.
“That’s kind of you, Gojo-san,” Yuuji said. “Shall we wash your hair first?” He asked gingerly.
“I’ve washed them this morning, don’t worry. Just go with it.”
So Yuuji went with it.
***
Fluff seemed fitting. Gojo’s hair was both thin and thick. Every single follicle of hair in itself was so thin it was almost invisible in itself against the warm light of the salon, but all together, his hair was thick enough to create a beautiful crown on top of his handsome face.
To say that Yuuji had a blast taking care of him was an understatement.
Satoru Gojo turned out to be a very different person from how the media and people talked about him. Yuuji had imagined a serious young man, wielding the world in his hands, snobbish and spoilt. But instead of that, Satoru Gojo treated everyone like some long-time friend, he was joyful, warm and easy-going.
He also seemed to know everyone of the staff, and even other clients too, as he greeted everyone with an overly cheerful voice by surname, and talked with them informally. And he did talk a lot. Like, Yuuji too liked talking, but Gojo Satoru even gave Kugisaki a run for her money. Even over the blow dryer, his voice carried around the room, including everyone in a solo conversation directed at them. He asked questions that he answered right away and only shut it long enough to hear other people’s answers — mostly Yuuji’s and Kugisaki’s. And yet he was a surprisingly good listener, finding in other people’s words the unspoken inflexions and pushing thoughts and reflections further in others.
He asked for advice about some shirt he’d wear to some event abroad even though from the words he used it was clear that Gojo knew his way around fashion too. And yet when Kugisaki gave her opinion, he pushed her more and more about it until she seemingly gave him the perfect outfit to wear for the event.
“Always so helpful, Nobara-chan,” he said and clapped his hand once and Yuuji could see him ordering the shirt and matching pants on his phone. Yuuji looked away, wanting to give the man some discretion, and focused on his hair instead.
“Do you have a plus one to the event, Gojo-san? I could come,” Kugisaki sounded half serious, and Yuuji blushed, a bit embarrassed at how casual his colleague was being with their most important client.
“You could. But I thought Nobara-chan only wants to take days off to visit her parents?”
“Just say you don’t want to bring me along,” Kugisaki pouted slightly. “Anyway, I think I’m too good for you.”
Gojo laughed and nodded. Yuuji had a mini heart attack because his scissors almost slipped.
“You are,” he said, surprisingly gentle suddenly, genuine even. “How about you, Yuuji-kun? Do you want to be my plus one? It’s all very boring but there’ll be excellent food.”
Yuuji’s scissors almost slipped again and he wondered if he would survive this haircut.
“Please let me focus on my work, Gojo-san,” he said with a sheepish smile.
Gojo’s mouth opened slightly from where Yuuji could see him in the mirror, and those blue blue eyes narrowed a bit and for a moment Yuuji wondered if he’d offended the man. But soon his smile returned.
“Of course, Yuuji-kun. I’m sorry,” he said and winked, then resumed his chatter, directed at no one in particular and yet, people chipped in when they had something to say and Gojo would listen and say something insightful or funny.
***
By the end of it all, Gojo patted Yuuji’s hair once again and this time, Yuuji felt like he had been indeed a good boy. Gojo’s haircut was perfect, beautiful in its simplicity.
“Thank you, Yuuji-kun,” he grinned. “Looks good as new now,” he said and looked at himself in the mirror again and then put his sunglasses back on. “All right, I’ve got to go now. I’m already late actually. But I’ll be back soon.”
“Please don’t,” Fushiguro mumbled but loud enough to make sure that Gojo heard it.
“I will ~” Gojo said and patted Fushiguro’s hair too and then sauntered away without a goodbye and without waiting for Yuuji to accompany him to the door and bow goodbye.
He tried to run after him but he was gone by the time Yuuji got to the door and with dread in his stomach, he looked over at Nanami.
“Don’t worry about it,” Nanami said before Yuuji could even apologise. “But please don’t forget to say goodbye to our other clients.”
“I won’t, Nanami-sensei,” he promised, embarrassed.
When he returned to his station, the salon was much quieter, everyone working away. They had a policy of not speaking unless the client initiated conversation. Some clients liked speaking with their hairdresser, but many came here for the relaxing atmosphere of the place.
Yuuji started cleaning up the station, sweeping white snow of hair away.