It started with small things that Aiko almost didn't notice. A textbook left casually on her desk with specific pages marked by nearly invisible sticky notes. Advanced technique demonstrations that Hana would perform just a little more slowly when Aiko was nearby. Study materials that appeared in the common areas right before major exams, always accompanied by Hana's distinctive handwriting in the margins.
"Did you leave this here?" Mari asked one evening, holding up a comprehensive guide to color correction that had appeared on their shared desk. The book was clearly expensive, filled with professional photographs and detailed chemical formulas that went far beyond their current coursework.
Aiko examined the text, recognizing immediately that this wasn't a standard academy resource. The techniques described were advanced enough for third-year students, yet the explanations were broken down in a way that made them accessible to someone still learning fundamentals.
"I've never seen this before," she said honestly, though something about the careful annotations felt familiar.
The next morning, she found Hana in the advanced practice lab, working alone on what appeared to be a particularly challenging color correction. The model's hair showed the telltale signs of multiple failed bleaching attempts, creating an uneven canvas that would test even an experienced stylist's skills.
"That looks complicated," Aiko observed, watching Hana's methodical approach to sectioning and analysis.
"It's a disaster," Hana said without looking up. "But that's what makes it interesting. Anyone can work with healthy hair. The real skill comes in fixing other people's mistakes."
Aiko moved closer, studying the damage pattern with the analytical eye Mrs. Sato had trained in her. "The porosity is incredibly uneven. Are you planning to use a filler before attempting color correction?"
Hana paused in her work, glancing at Aiko with surprise. "You can see that from here?"
"The way light reflects off different sections tells the story. These areas," Aiko pointed to specific regions, "have been over-processed to the point where they'll grab color too quickly. And these sections still have natural pigment that will resist lifting."
"Exactly." Hana set down her brush and turned to face Aiko fully. "Most students wouldn't catch those details until they were actually working with the hair."
"Mrs. Sato taught me to read hair like a map. Every texture change, every color variation, every break pattern has something to tell you about what's happened and what's possible."
For a moment, they stood in comfortable silence, both studying the challenging canvas before them. Then Hana made a decision that surprised them both.
"Want to work on this together? It's not an assignment—just practice. But I could use a second perspective on the correction strategy."
The offer was unprecedented. Hana rarely collaborated with anyone, and certainly not with first-year students. Her reputation was built on independent excellence, on being the student who needed no help and offered little.
"Are you sure?" Aiko asked.
"I'm sure you have insights I might miss. Your training background gives you a different way of looking at problems."
For the next two hours, they worked together with a synchronization that felt almost magical. Hana's technical precision combined perfectly with Aiko's intuitive understanding of hair behavior. They communicated in shorthand, anticipating each other's moves, building on each other's observations.
"Try a protein filler in those damaged sections before the color," Aiko suggested. "It should help even out the porosity."
"Good call. And if we use a low-volume developer in this area, we can deposit color without further lifting."
The final result was stunning—hair that had looked hopeless transformed into something healthy and beautiful. More importantly, both students had learned techniques they wouldn't have discovered working alone.
"That was incredible," Aiko said as they cleaned their station. "I learned more in two hours than I usually do in a week of regular classes."
Hana nodded thoughtfully. "You know, I've been thinking about our conversation from months ago. When you said you wanted to attend Stellar Academy."
"I remember. You thought I was delusional."
"I thought you were unrealistic," Hana corrected. "But I was wrong about why. I assumed you didn't understand how much preparation was required. What I didn't realize was that you were already more prepared than most students who'd been studying for years."
As they put away their tools, Hana seemed to wrestle with something she wanted to say but wasn't sure how to express.
"Those study materials that keep appearing in your dorm," she said finally. "And the textbook Mari found yesterday."
Aiko looked at her with dawning understanding. "That was you."
"My grandmother has always said that talent without opportunity is tragedy. You have more natural ability than anyone I've met, but you're still catching up on some of the theoretical foundation that other students have been building for years."
"Why didn't you just offer to help directly?"
Hana's cheeks colored slightly. "Because I have a reputation to maintain. And because... because I wasn't sure you'd accept help from someone who treated you so badly when we first met."
The admission hung between them, honest and vulnerable in a way that revealed hidden depths to Hana's character.
"I understand why you were protective of your grandmother's salon," Aiko said gently. "And I understand why you were skeptical of me. I probably looked like someone who was going to take advantage of her kindness."
"You looked desperate," Hana said bluntly. "But I've learned there's a difference between desperation that seeks shortcuts and desperation that drives excellence. You were always the second kind."
"Got it? … Little sister."
Over the following weeks, their collaboration became more open but remained largely private. Hana would invite Aiko to advanced practice sessions, always framing it as needing help with difficult projects rather than offering instruction. She shared insights from her three years at the academy, warned Aiko about particularly challenging professors, and provided guidance on navigating the social dynamics of academy life.
"Professor Martinez doesn't care if you're technically perfect," Hana explained as they prepared for an upcoming evaluation. "She wants to see creativity and personal style. Don't just demonstrate competence—show her something she hasn't seen before."
"What do you mean?"
"Like that braiding technique you showed me last week. The one Mrs. Sato taught you that incorporates traditional Japanese methods with modern styling. That's the kind of unique perspective that gets you noticed."
The advice proved invaluable. When Aiko presented her personal interpretation of classical finger-waving, incorporating elements of traditional Japanese hair ornament placement, Professor Martinez was visibly impressed.
"This shows real cultural understanding and innovative adaptation," the professor noted. "You're not just mimicking techniques—you're interpreting them through your own aesthetic lens."
After class, Hana found Aiko in the hallway, wearing an expression of unmistakable pride.
"Brilliant presentation," she said. "Professor Martinez has been teaching here for fifteen years, and I've never seen her that engaged with a first-year student's work."
"I couldn't have done it without your encouragement to take risks."
"You could have," Hana said firmly. "You just needed someone to remind you that your unique background is a strength, not a weakness."
As winter deepened and the first year's coursework became increasingly demanding, Aiko found herself relying more and more on Hana's guidance and support. But their relationship had evolved beyond mentor and student into something more like partnership—two people with different strengths working together to push each other toward excellence.
"You know," Hana said one evening as they worked late in the practice lab, "when I graduate next year, Grandmother wants me to consider applying for the Master's program here before taking over the salon."
"That sounds like an amazing opportunity."
"It is. But it means two more years of intensive study, two more years before I can start building my own professional reputation." Hana paused in her work, looking thoughtful. "Watching how quickly you've advanced has made me realize that maybe formal timelines aren't as important as I thought. Maybe the right path is the one that challenges you most, regardless of how long it takes."
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that when you reach your second year and become eligible for international exchange programs, you should definitely apply for the Spain program. You've talked about that mysterious boy who inspired your interest in hairstyling—what if going to Spain helped you find closure to that story?"
The suggestion sent a thrill of possibility through Aiko. She had been so focused on mastering her current coursework that she hadn't seriously considered the international opportunities that would open up in her second year.
"Do you really think I'd be competitive for something like that?"
"I think," Hana said with absolute conviction, "that you're going to be one of the most sought-after students this academy has ever produced. And I think anyone who meets you, anywhere in the world, is going to recognize that you have something special."
As they finished their work and prepared to return to their respective dorms, Aiko reflected on how much her relationship with Hana had deepened and evolved. What had started as reluctant tolerance had grown into genuine friendship, built on mutual respect and shared passion for their craft.
More importantly, Hana's support had helped her recognize her own potential in ways that went beyond technical skill. She was beginning to see herself not just as someone who had overcome difficult circumstances, but as someone who could offer unique perspectives and innovative approaches to the field she loved.
The foundation was being laid for opportunities she had barely dared to imagine. And for the first time since arriving at Stellar Academy, she began to seriously consider the possibility that her path might indeed lead back to Spain—and perhaps to answers that had eluded her for so long.