The apartment above Mrs. Sato's salon was sparse but perfect—a single room with a narrow bed, a small table that served as both desk and dining area, and a tiny kitchenette with just enough space for basic meals. Most importantly, it had excellent lighting and a large mirror where Aiko could practice techniques late into the evening.
The past three weeks had transformed her understanding of what intensive training truly meant. Mrs. Sato's definition of "six AM" had proven flexible—some days began at five when they needed extra time for complex procedures, others stretched past midnight when a particularly challenging color correction required multiple sessions to perfect.
"Color theory isn't just about mixing pigments," Mrs. Sato explained as they worked through their morning routine. Today's challenge was a mannequin head with severely damaged hair that had been bleached multiple times by previous students. "It's about understanding how light interacts with different textures, how underlying pigments affect the final result, how a client's skin tone and lifestyle will influence what they can realistically maintain."
Aiko studied the mannequin's hair through a magnifying glass, noting the variations in porosity, the way some sections held color differently than others. After three weeks of this level of detailed analysis, she had learned to read hair like a story—seeing not just its current condition, but the history of treatments that had brought it to this point.
"The midshaft has significant protein loss," she observed, sectioning the hair with the methodical precision Mrs. Sato had drilled into her. "But the root growth is healthy. I'd recommend a series of protein treatments to rebuild the damaged areas before attempting any color work."
"And if the client insists on color immediately?"
"Then we explain why that would damage their hair further, show them photos of similar cases, and offer alternatives that will achieve a similar aesthetic without compromising structural integrity." Aiko had learned that client education was as important as technical skill—people needed to understand why certain choices would serve them better in the long term.
Mrs. Sato nodded approvingly. "Excellent. Now show me a low-maintenance color solution that would work with this damage pattern."
These practical examinations had become their daily routine. Each morning brought new challenges designed to test not just Aiko's technical knowledge, but her problem-solving abilities and client communication skills. Mrs. Sato had enrolled real volunteers—friends, former clients, people from the community who were willing to let a student practice on their hair in exchange for deeply discounted services.
The responsibility was both thrilling and terrifying. When Mrs. Yamamoto from the grocery store had trusted Aiko to give her a cut and style for her daughter's wedding, the weight of that trust had kept Aiko awake the night before, reviewing every technique until she could perform them in her sleep.
"Remember," Mrs. Sato had said as Aiko worked through that particularly nerve-wracking appointment, "confidence comes from preparation. You know these techniques. Trust your training."
The haircut had been a success—subtle layers that enhanced Mrs. Yamamoto's natural wave pattern, styled in a way that looked elegant but remained manageable for someone unaccustomed to high-maintenance looks. The older woman's tears of joy had been worth every hour of preparation.
Now, with the Stellar Academy entrance exam just five days away, Aiko was working through her final practice scenarios. The exam format was notoriously challenging—a three-hour practical assessment where applicants had to demonstrate everything from basic shampooing techniques to advanced color correction, all while explaining their reasoning to a panel of master stylists.
"Let's review client consultation protocols," Mrs. Sato said, settling into the role-play exercises that had become crucial to Aiko's preparation. "I'm a new client. I want to go from dark brown to platinum blonde in one session, and I have a job interview tomorrow."
Aiko took a deep breath, centering herself in the professional demeanor she'd been practicing. "I understand you're excited about the transformation, but achieving platinum blonde from dark brown safely requires multiple sessions spaced several weeks apart. Attempting it in one session would severely damage your hair and likely result in breakage rather than the beautiful color you're hoping for."
"But I need it done now. Can't you just use stronger bleach?"
"Stronger bleach would increase the damage without improving the results. Instead, let me show you some alternatives." Aiko pulled out the portfolio of before-and-after photos she'd been building. "We could achieve a beautiful honey blonde in one session that would still give you a dramatic change for your interview, then gradually lighten to platinum over the next few months as your hair recovers."
Mrs. Sato smiled, breaking character. "Perfect. You've learned to lead with education rather than just saying no. That's the mark of a true professional."
The evenings were reserved for theoretical study. Aiko's small table was covered with textbooks, color wheels, charts detailing different hair textures and their properties. She had filled multiple notebooks with detailed notes, diagrams, and practice problems that would help her think through complex scenarios under pressure.
Tonight's focus was hair chemistry—understanding how different chemical processes affected the molecular structure of hair, why certain treatments had to be performed in specific orders, how to recognize and correct problems when things didn't go according to plan.
"The disulfide bonds that give hair its structure can be temporarily disrupted during perming or permanently damaged by over-processing," she recited to herself, reviewing the notes she'd made earlier. "Recognizing the difference determines whether corrective treatment is possible or if the only solution is cutting away damaged sections."
A soft knock on her door interrupted her study session. Mrs. Sato stood in the hallway, carrying a steaming cup of tea and wearing an expression of motherly concern.
"You need to sleep," she said gently, setting the tea on Aiko's cluttered table. "Exhaustion won't serve you well during the exam."
"I know, but there's still so much to review—"
"You know the material," Mrs. Sato interrupted. "I've watched you work with clients, seen you problem-solve under pressure, listened to you explain complex concepts with clarity and confidence. The knowledge is there. Now you need to trust it."
Aiko looked at her reflection in the mirror across the room. Three weeks of intensive training had changed her as much as months of secret Saturday lessons. She carried herself differently now, with the quiet confidence that came from genuine competence rather than desperate hope.
"What if I freeze up during the practical exam?" she asked, voicing her deepest fear. "What if all this preparation disappears the moment I'm being evaluated?"
Mrs. Sato sat on the edge of the narrow bed, her expression thoughtful. "Do you remember your first real client? Mrs. Yamamoto?"
"Of course."
"You were terrified that morning. I could see your hands shaking as you sectioned her hair. But once you started working, once you focused on serving her needs rather than your own fears, what happened?"
Aiko smiled at the memory. "I forgot to be nervous. The techniques just... flowed."
"Exactly. The exam will be the same. Focus on doing good work, on applying everything you've learned to help your assigned model look and feel beautiful. The evaluators will recognize genuine skill and care."
As Mrs. Sato prepared to leave, she paused in the doorway. "There's something else you should know. I've been in contact with several Stellar Academy instructors over the years. They're not just looking for technical perfection—they're looking for students who understand that hairstyling is ultimately about human connection, about helping people feel confident and beautiful."
"That's what this has always been about for me," Aiko said quietly. "Ever since that day at the park when someone showed me kindness I didn't think I deserved."
"I know. And that's why I believe you'll succeed, regardless of what happens with this particular exam. You have the heart of a true stylist—everything else is just technique."
After Mrs. Sato left, Aiko sipped her tea and looked out the window at the quiet street below. In five days, she would walk into the most important examination of her life, competing against students who had been preparing for years with private tutors and expensive prep courses.
But she had something they might not have: an understanding of what it felt like to be transformed by someone else's care, and a burning desire to offer that same gift to others.
The boy at the park had seen potential in her neglected hair and had taken the time to nurture it. Mrs. Sato had seen potential in her desperate circumstances and had given her the tools to build something better.
Now it was time to find out if she could prove worthy of their faith in her.
Five days to change her entire future. She was as ready as she could possibly be.