Work Text:
There were a lot of things Mako had expected as a hairstylist at a kimono-dressing salon. Thick pomades, ladies smiling through procedures that would always hurt no matter what, and crash courses in tying koshihimo for the artisans who made the obi knots were all part of the world she wanted to be in. She'd been more startled to see the small cache of hair bleach and bright red color next to the natural black treatments, but she'd assumed it was some kind of mistake. No one would come here looking for red, certainly! The bottles weren't exactly dusty, but for her first week they didn't serve any purpose either.
Then the Kumicho stopped by, during a time slot marked with big, black lines through every minute of a three hour span next to the name, "Ooedo". Normally they could, and often did, serve up to five customers at once. From first glance, Mako knew this was some kind of VIP, but she didn't recognize the name.
"Ma'am," she'd asked Sasaki-san, the proprietress. "About midday tomorrow--"
"Never you mind that, dear. All the local Kumicho are having a formal gathering, you see. It's bad business to have gangsters mixing with civilians, but Yamaguchi-sama -- that's the Ooedo clan's Okusama -- she's a wonderful person. There will be nothing for you to worry about."
Well, of course hearing the word, "Kumicho," worried her! She'd never thought to wonder about her salon's relationship with the local gangsters. Imagine! If her mother even knew she were in a part of town with gangsters, she might cry. And yet, the next day, none of the regular staff seemed on edge. As soon as the last civilian client from the morning left, Sasaki-san put the, "Reserved for Private Event," sign on the door, and all the girls hopped to cleaning up their stations with downright glee!
Hanae, the make-up technician, was whispering to Chiyo, the kimono dressing apprentice, "I hope Master Red Lion's coming, too! It's been weeks!"
"As if looking at him will do you any good," Chiyo laughed back.
"Well, looking won't hurt, either."
Mako was about to ask who Master Red Lion was when Sasaki-san came out to the front hall to check that everything was in order.
"Hanae, dear, pull down that tatami to put in the front, with the mahjongg set and a tray of refreshments for the men. You have the premium service make-up tray in the Willow Room?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Good, that's where we'll do the nagajuban and Yamaguchi-sama's hair as well. Yamaguchi-sama will try to talk if we have her in the same room as her entourage. Chiyo, prepare the kimono rack and steamer in the Maple Room. Mako, dear, this is your first time working with the Ooedo clan, I know, so Hanae will do Yamaguchi-sama's hair today. Would you be so good as to make a pot of tea for our guests? Use the Dragon Pot."
"Yes, ma'am," Mako answered, already on her way to heat the water.
She'd thought the cast iron pot (more like a cauldron, really) had just been for decoration, but when the Mistress said use it, she got it down from the display cabinet as fast as could be!
Before long, Sasaki-san joined her in the back room. With everything settled in the customer areas, she was making up a new flower arrangement to go on the main table, murmuring away in an attempt to calm Mako's nerves. And somehow, as the words flowed on and the tea grew fragrant, her hands did shake less and less.
"The last Kumicho, may he rest in peace, gave us that teapot after the first time Yamaguchi-sama stopped in here -- she was still the Ojou back then. She walked in off the street with her own kimono and asked to be made up like a picture of a gangster in a television drama! But the Ooedo clan prizes itself on good relations, so the Kumicho made sure to thank us himself. And if there's ever any trouble, the family sends someone right over to sort it-- Oh, goodness, I think I see them pulling up!"
As if the black limousine outside the window could be anything else! The knock on the door moments later sent everyone running into a line to greet their guests, so Mako followed suit. She poured the brewed tea into the pot, and had just made it to the end of the line with her tray when Sasaki-san pushed open the door. Everyone bowed. It was like a scene right out of a history book, except that the lady walking in was wearing a tweed suit like a school teacher, and the young man beside her had bright red hair over a loudly printed silk shirt. The wall of scarred gangsters behind them were carrying a kimono box and a garment bag, not guns (that she could see), but they were no less terrifying for that.
The proprietress clapped her hands, and all the girls were off to their places. Chiyo took the garment bags, and Hanae waited for the lady (Yamaguchi-sama, naturally, while the handsome young man was no doubt the Red Lion) by the Willow Room.
Mako could guess what she was meant to do with the teapot, so she poured cups in silence while Sasaki-san spoke with their client at the front table about what special requirements she had today -- including pointing out a hairstyle from an old movie that would probably take two hours on its own. Perhaps least expected of all, though, was the gentle way this Master Red Lion clasped the lady's hand where they knelt on the floor. He had a few ostentatious pieces of jewelry on his right hand, not to mention the gold chain around his neck, but on his left hand, the one he was holding hers with, he wore only a plain wedding band that matched the one Yamaguchi-sama had on the hand she was using to point at the reference photos.
The lady did all the talking. Her husband seemed content to watch her with a fond gleam in his eye and a mischievous smirk on his lips... and Mako didn't dare look at him any longer despite how attractive he was, lest she risk offending their client. She hadn't met any gang leaders before, but she had to imagine they weren't fond of shop girls staring at their husbands.
So Mako moved, again in silence, to the tatami mat where the couple's bodyguards were setting up a mahjongg game. She'd just poured tea for the last of them when she heard Yamaguchi-sama make one last request.
"Oh, Sasaki-san... we hadn't realized it would be necessary when I made the appointment, but would you look at how much Shin's roots have grown in? He can dress himself once he's done, but those roots! He can't go in front of the Council of Families without getting them treated. You know how that goes."
"Oh, of course, Okusama."
The Red Lion said his first words of the visit while Sasaki-san nodded. "If you could fit that in, I'd be much obliged."
"Of course, sir! Our new girl, Mako, is excellent with hair treatments. Mako!"
She left the teapot on a warmer by the bodyguards, rushing back to the main table.
"Here, ma'am."
"Please take our guest for a shampoo and color service while we press his formal suit."
"Consider it done, ma'am. If you will, please follow me to the Hydrangea Room, sir."
He nodded, saying, "I know the way," then gave his wife a parting smile. And a kiss on the hand. And... one on the top of her head, too. Gangsters certainly were public in their affections, weren't they?! But then, who was going to stop them? Not her.
With a wicked grin of her own, Yamaguchi-sama shooed her husband away. Shooed him! Like a cat! "Cut it out, Shin. We're on a schedule."
"Fine..."
But his took his time sauntering across the front hall to where Mako was waiting, as if he knew that Yamaguchi-sama was taking the opportunity to... ah. Admire the fit of his trousers. Which clearly, in her opinion, fit quite attractively. Mako didn't feel it was appropriate to check the view for herself.
They were all done with the usual questions of, "Is the water temperature to your liking, sir?" and "Would you like a trim as well?" and well into the process of Mako prepping an intense, bright red for the tinting foils when the Red Lion started snickering at her.
"I-is... something the matter, sir?"
"It's Mako, right? I know they call me the Red Lion, but I won't bite, I promise. You're allowed to talk, unless you like being bored. I know how long this takes."
He was brusque, but well-spoken nonetheless, completely at odds with the slangy mix of honorifics and grunts the bodyguards out front had been using. If she hadn't known better from his company and his appearance, she might have taken him for an ordinary young man.
"Of course, sir," she said, painting his first lock of hair with tint against the foil wrapper. "May I just say, it must be so exciting for you to be married to a Kumicho. I can't even imagine!"
Chuckling quietly, he said, "What? Are you talking about Yankumi? Don't let her hear you. She hates it when people call her Kumicho."
"My apologies! I had no idea!"
Even while he laughed, he was a model client when it came to letting her put smooth parts into his hair for coloring, but that didn't stop him from saying things that nearly made her drop her comb. "Yeah, I think that's most of why she didn't fuss over everyone expecting me to step up when her Grandfather died. That, and it means she still has time to teach high school."
It wasn't just the fumes making Mako feel like she might faint. "Sir, you don't mean..."
"Oh yeah. Technically, I'm the Kumicho. That's why they call her Okusama, because she's the Kumicho's wife, not that I'd get in the way of her saying how she wants her family run."
Somehow she managed to squeak, "Oh. I see," in the politest tones anyone could ask. "That sounds like a lovely arrangement."
"We're going to have to find a hobby or something to talk about, aren't we?" the Red Lion asked. "So what're you into? Books? Music? Cell phone games?"
Weighing the balance of what she could actually hold a conversation on and what Sasaki-san would approve of her discussing should she enter the room, Mako said she was quite fond of music, and somehow managed to chatter away the minutes until her client's hair was ready to set. Still, who could blame her for ducking into the back room when it was time to make her exit so she could collapse into a chair until her head stopped spinning.
He was the Kumicho?!
She'd been brushing red hair dye onto the roots of a gangster Kumicho?! There wasn't enough tea in the world to calm her nerves. And yet, somehow, she managed to walk back out with a straight face when the time came to wash off the dye residue and style the man's hair so none of the unavoidable scalp irritation would show when he left. This was her job, after all, and he was her client.
He looked dashing when she was done, if she did say so herself. The red was vivid, and hardly respectable, but obviously that had been the point. "Hardly respectable" suited the Ooedo Kumicho quite well. He checked his reflection from a few different angles and murmured, "Nice," so Mako could reassure herself that he agreed.
"Then I'll leave you to change, sir." The bright white suit that Chiyo had pressed was now hanging on the wall, and the most nerve-wracking appointment of her life was coming to an end.
The Red Lion looked every inch the gangster when he walked out. He radiated dangerous charm, even while leaning against the wall by the Maple Room to wait for his wife to emerge -- which she did, moments later, with a loud holler of, "All right, ya rascals!" and a fist in the air. Her husband looked polished now, even as he kissed her fingertips to avoid mussing the make-up Hanae had done so carefully, but Yamaguchi-sama looked transformed. A bold kimono tied in a daringly unembellished style gave her a sense of power rather than decoration. Hair wound in an intricate knot on her head was pomaded until it gleamed. After switching her regular glasses for sunglasses, the non-descript lady who wouldn't get a second glance on the street had been remade into a woman whom no one could fail to notice.
"Okusama!!" chorused all her bodyguards, half of them on their knees in tears.
Somehow, Mako knew how they felt. As much as she'd been surprised to know who their VIP clients were, and terrified to meet them, there was an odd sense of pride in seeing the grand couple link arms to walk out to their waiting limousine. Maybe she couldn't tell her mother -- ever! -- what she'd done today, and maybe she was just a civilian, but it felt like she was watching her Kumicho and her Okusama walk out the door like a lord and lady of old. And maybe, in a way, she was.