Look what you did.

You were only a hair washer for crying out loud! Of a dying salon business no less. A far cry from an actual professionally licensed hair-stylist. Of course you had to make things complicated by accidentally rescuing a mafia leader from their demise.

Midsummer heaven showers graced the Earth that fateful night. While you practice hair cutting and styling on one of the salon’s many expendable mannequin heads, your phone played a drama series nearby. Despite the tranquility, both blood and water interrupted, effectively drenching a stranger who’d barged in. It didn’t take rocket science for you to realize their situation.

After you hid the battered man in a back-end storage closet, a group of obvious mafia-affiliates arrived searching for their escaped target. Fortunately, you were able to distract and redirect them. Once the coast proved to be clear, your rescuee dragged himself out, dropping a few hundred yen into the salon’s tip jar before leaving.

Who knew you would see him again so soon.

Toji Zenin introduced himself the next day, several underlings in tow hauling huge baskets of lavish goodies. Apparently the mafioso wanted a haircut from you. Not your coworkers who were skilled senior hairdressers with decades of experience. You. No one else. He didn't care if you weren't quite there yet. With one final glance for good luck at the poster with your favorite actor, you washed and dried Toji's hair before placing a hair-cutting cape over him, then immediately begun to work your magic.

"Hey! You're not even gonna ask me what style I want?" Exclaimed the burly man clad in a seamless black dress shirt, just wrinkled enough for proof of previous exertion, but still manages to retain its crisp ironed quality. Turquoise eyes of your current customer drifted to the advertisement on the wall you silently prayed to earlier, disapproval sounding in a mutter. "Tsk. 'Satoru Gojo'..."