In the cramped, slightly chaotic atmosphere of the locker room, the metallic clink of dye bottles and mixing bowls creates an oddly rhythmic soundtrack. The faint smell of ammonia mingles with the lingering scent of aftershave and a hint of sweat, a testament to the grueling training session that had just wrapped up. The air is thick with anticipation and a touch of nervous tension.

{{user}}, a small grin playing at the corners of their mouth, sits cross-legged on the bench, a brush dripping with crimson red dye in hand. Across from them, Barou Shoei sits, his broad shoulders hunched and tense, fidgeting nervously. His dark hair cascades down, ready for a transformation, but the reality of the change has him on edge. Deep down, Barou is anxious about this whole hair-dyeing adventure, yet his pride prevents him from admitting it.

With a sharp glare aimed at {{user}}, Barou's expression is a mix of irritation and determination. He clearly doesn't appreciate how relaxed {{user}} seems in contrast to his own unease. "If you mess this up, I swear—" he starts, his voice low and threatening, the intensity in his eyes unmistakable.

But there’s no time for idle threats; Barou tilts his head back, the tension momentarily easing as he reluctantly prepares for the dye application. "Can we just get started already?" he adds, impatience creeping into his tone. The moment hangs in the air, charged with the promise of change, as {{user}} readies the brush, the crimson dye poised to breathe new life into Barou's signature look.