The morning of the Stellar Academy entrance exam dawned gray and cold, with frost covering the windows of Aiko's small apartment. She had been awake since four AM, not from nervousness but from a strange sense of anticipation that felt almost like excitement. After three weeks of the most intensive training of her life, she was eager to finally put her skills to the test.
Mrs. Sato had insisted on driving her to the academy, despite Aiko's protests that she could take public transportation. "This is a milestone," the elderly woman had said firmly. "Milestones should be marked properly."
Now, as they pulled up to the imposing gates of Stellar Academy of Hair Design, Aiko felt her breath catch. The campus was even more beautiful than the photographs in the brochures—modern glass buildings nestled among carefully maintained gardens, with students in crisp uniforms walking purposefully between classes.
"Remember," Mrs. Sato said as Aiko gathered her tool kit—a professional case that had been an early graduation gift. "You belong here just as much as anyone else. Trust your training, trust your instincts, and show them who you really are."
The registration area was buzzing with nervous energy. Dozens of applicants clustered in small groups, many accompanied by supportive family members who offered last-minute encouragement and advice. Aiko noticed immediately how polished everyone looked—their clothes expensive, their own hair styled to perfection, their tool cases bearing the logos of high-end beauty supply companies.
She touched her own hair self-consciously. Mrs. Sato had styled it that morning in a simple but elegant arrangement that showcased healthy texture and professional attention to detail. It was beautiful work, but it couldn't hide the fundamental differences between her background and that of her competitors.
"First time trying for Stellar?" a cheerful voice asked beside her.
Aiko turned to see a girl about her own age with perfectly styled waves and an easy smile that immediately put her at ease. Despite the obvious quality of her clothes and accessories, there was something genuinely warm about her expression.
"Yes," Aiko admitted. "I'm Aiko."
"I'm Yuki! And that's my friend Kenta over there." She gestured toward a lanky boy with artfully messy hair who was nervously adjusting his tie while reviewing notes from a thick binder. "We're both trying for the second time. Didn't make it last year, but we've been preparing like crazy."
Kenta approached them, looking relieved to have found friendly faces in the sea of competition. "The practical exam is intense," he warned Aiko, though his tone was helpful rather than discouraging. "They give you a model with specific hair challenges, and you have to demonstrate washing, analysis, cutting, and styling techniques while explaining your process to a panel of examiners."
"What kind of challenges?" Aiko asked, genuinely curious about what she might face.
"Last year, my model had severely damaged hair from over-processing," Yuki explained. "I had to show how I'd assess the damage, what treatments I'd recommend, and create a style that worked with the limitations rather than against them."
"Mine had multiple textures—like someone who'd had extensions removed improperly," Kenta added. "The key isn't just knowing the techniques, but understanding why you're making specific choices and being able to communicate that clearly."
As they talked, Aiko found herself relaxing slightly. These weren't just competitors—they were fellow students who shared her passion for the craft, who understood the dedication required to even attempt something like this.
"What about you?" Yuki asked kindly. "Where did you train?"
The question Aiko had been dreading. She saw no point in hiding the truth, but wasn't sure how these obviously well-prepared students would react to learning about her unconventional background.
"I trained with Mrs. Sato at a small neighborhood salon," she said carefully. "And through a lot of independent study."
"Mrs. Sato..." Kenta repeated thoughtfully. "I've heard that name. Isn't she one of the older generation of master stylists? Like, really respected in the industry?"
"She's amazing," Aiko said with genuine warmth. "She's taught me that hairstyling is about more than just technique—it's about seeing people and helping them feel beautiful."
Yuki and Kenta exchanged a meaningful look that Aiko couldn't quite interpret.
"That's actually really impressive," Yuki said earnestly. "Learning from a master one-on-one is probably better preparation than any of the prep courses most of us have taken. You get personalized attention and real-world experience."
"Plus," Kenta added, "the examiners love to see students who understand the service aspect of the industry. A lot of applicants get so focused on technical perfection that they forget hairstyling is ultimately about making people feel good about themselves."
Before Aiko could respond, her number was called for the first phase of testing. Her heart hammered as she followed an examiner—a stern-looking woman in her forties—through corridors lined with fully equipped salon stations.
"I'm Miss Tanaka," the examiner said, her tone professional but not unkind. "You'll have three hours to complete a full service on your assigned model, including consultation, analysis, shampooing, cutting, and styling. Your technique, knowledge, and client interaction will all be evaluated."
The model assigned to her was a young woman about her own age, with shoulder-length hair that showed clear signs of chemical damage and neglect. As Aiko studied the hair's condition, she felt a flash of recognition—not of the girl herself, but of the situation. This was similar to her own hair's condition months ago, before the mysterious boy had shown her what proper care could accomplish.
"Hi," she said to her model, settling into the consultation mindset Mrs. Sato had drilled into her. "I'm Aiko. Before we begin, I'd like to understand what you're hoping to achieve today and learn about your hair's history."
As she sectioned the model's hair for analysis, Aiko found herself falling into the rhythm that had become second nature during her intensive training. Her hands moved with confidence, her observations were detailed and accurate, and her explanations to the examining panel were clear and professional.
"The damage pattern suggests repeated bleaching without proper protein treatments," she noted as she worked. "The porosity is uneven, with some sections severely compromised while others retain good structural integrity. My recommendation would be a gradual restoration process focusing on rebuilding the damaged areas while enhancing the healthy sections."
Miss Tanaka made notes on her clipboard but said nothing, her expression giving no hint of whether Aiko's approach was meeting expectations.
As she began the shampooing process, Aiko remembered the boy at the park, the way his hands had moved through her hair with such careful attention. She channeled that same patience and care, working gently through tangles, using the proper pressure and technique to cleanse without causing additional damage.
"This feels amazing," her model said softly. "No one's ever been this careful with my hair before."
"Damaged hair requires extra patience," Aiko explained, both to the model and the examiners. "Rushing the process will only cause more problems. It's better to take the time needed to do it right."
The cutting phase was where her intensive training with Mrs. Sato truly showed. She had worked with so many different hair textures and damage patterns over the past three weeks that she could adapt her technique instinctively, creating a style that enhanced the model's natural features while working around the limitations imposed by previous damage.
"I'm removing the most severely damaged sections while maintaining length wherever possible," she explained as she worked. "The goal is to create a shape that will look healthy and grow out gracefully as the hair recovers."
By the time she finished the styling, three hours had passed like minutes. Her model's transformation was subtle but profound—the hair looked healthier, moved more naturally, and framed her face in a way that enhanced her natural beauty.
"Beautiful work," the model said, examining herself in the mirror with obvious delight. "I feel like myself again, but better."
Miss Tanaka approached to examine the finished result, checking the evenness of the cut, the health of the styled hair, the overall aesthetic of the finished look. Her expression remained professionally neutral, but she made several notes on her evaluation form.
"You'll receive your results by mail within one week," she said finally. "Thank you for your time today."
Walking out of the examination room, Aiko felt a strange mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. She had given everything she had, applied every technique Mrs. Sato had taught her, and stayed true to the philosophy that had guided her from the beginning—that hairstyling was ultimately about seeing people and helping them feel valued.
Yuki and Kenta were waiting for her in the lobby, both looking as drained as she felt.
"How did it go?" Yuki asked anxiously.
"I think... I think I showed them who I really am," Aiko said, echoing the words she had spoken to Mrs. Sato weeks earlier.
As they walked out together into the gray afternoon, Aiko felt a certainty settling over her that had nothing to do with whether she passed or failed the exam. She had proven something to herself—that she could compete at this level, that months of desperate studying and intensive training had transformed her into someone capable of professional-quality work.
Whether Stellar Academy accepted her or not, she was no longer the broken girl hiding in an attic. She was Aiko Matsumoto, and she was going to find a way to build the future she dreamed of.
The real test had never been about the exam at all. It had been about believing she deserved a chance at something better.
And that test, she had already passed.