The Fujiwara Café bid farewell to its last guest for the night, the warm scent of roasted Arabica beans and vanilla syrup still lingering in the air as the "Closed" sign had been flipped.
In the dim light of the staff locker room, Fujiwara Touka stood frozen before a full-length mirror, her breath hitching as she stared at the stranger looking back at her.
The transformation was so striking that she couldn't even believe it was her face she was looking at.
For years, Touka had used her hair as a fortress, allowing long, thick bangs to shroud her face like a safety curtain.
It was a shield against a world she found too loud, too bright, and too judgmental.
But today, that shield was gone.
Well, although she had said that she was going to cut her bangs the day after the party, she actually only gained courage to do it today.
Earlier, she had visited a high-end salon after school, her heart hammering against her ribs the entire time.
