The announcement came during their Tuesday morning color theory class, delivered by Professor Delgado with the kind of reverent excitement reserved for truly exceptional opportunities.
"Students, I have remarkable news," he said, setting aside his mixing bowls to address the class directly. "Next week, we will be honored to host a special workshop led by Isabella Martinez, one of Spain's most celebrated colorists and artistic directors."
A buzz of excitement rippled through the classroom. Even the international students who might not have known Isabella's reputation could sense the significance from their Spanish classmates' reactions.
"For those unfamiliar with Maestra Martinez's work," Professor Delgado continued, "she has styled hair for international fashion weeks, created signature looks for celebrities throughout Europe, and is considered a master of both traditional Spanish techniques and contemporary innovation."
Aiko felt her pulse quicken. Over the past few weeks of investigation, the name Isabella Martinez had appeared repeatedly in her research about prominent Spanish hairstylists. Could this be more than coincidence?
"The workshop will focus on advanced color correction and cultural styling techniques," Professor Delgado explained. "Participation is limited to our most dedicated students, and I expect everyone here to take full advantage of this extraordinary opportunity."
After class, Aiko found Miguel in their usual meeting spot by the courtyard fountain, both of them carrying notebooks filled with hastily scribbled questions about the upcoming workshop.
"Have you heard of Isabella Martinez before?" she asked without preamble.
"Of course—she's legendary in Spanish beauty circles. My sister Ana actually has some of her work in her portfolio collection." Miguel paused, noting Aiko's intense expression. "Why? Does her name connect to your search somehow?"
"I'm not sure yet. But the name Isabella keeps appearing in connection with Spanish cycling programs and hairstyling excellence. It might be nothing, or it might be significant."
"Well, you'll have a chance to meet her directly next week. If there's any connection to your mysterious cyclist, you could ask her about it."
The workshop was scheduled for the following Friday, giving Aiko a week to research Isabella Martinez's background and prepare intelligent questions that might reveal relevant connections. She spent every free moment reading interviews, studying her portfolio work, and looking for any mentions of family members or personal interests that might include cycling.
What she discovered was impressive but frustratingly vague about personal details. Isabella Martinez had built her reputation on technical excellence and artistic innovation, moving seamlessly between traditional Spanish techniques and cutting-edge contemporary styles. Her work had been featured in major fashion magazines, and she had trained under some of Europe's most respected masters. But information about her family, her personal life, or any interests outside of hairstyling was notably absent from public profiles.
Friday arrived with the kind of nervous energy that filled the Instituto whenever distinguished guests visited. Students arrived early, tools polished and notebooks ready, determined to make the most of their time with such a renowned professional.
Isabella Martinez entered the advanced studio like a force of nature—elegant but commanding, with the kind of perfectly styled hair that served as a living advertisement for her skills. She was probably in her early thirties, with striking features and an air of confident authority that immediately commanded respect.
"Welcome, students," she said, her voice carrying the precise diction of someone accustomed to teaching and being heard. "Today, we will work with real transformation challenges. Not the simple cuts and colors you practice on mannequins, but the complex problems that real clients bring to professional stylists."
She had arranged for several volunteer models with genuinely challenging hair situations—severe chemical damage, uneven previous cuts, color corrections that would test even experienced stylists. As she began demonstrating assessment techniques, Aiko found herself completely absorbed in the technical instruction.
"The key to successful correction work," Isabella explained while examining a model's over-processed hair, "is understanding not just what you see, but the history of how the damage occurred. Every chemical process, every poor cut, every moment of neglect tells a story that guides your approach to healing."
The philosophy resonated perfectly with everything Mrs. Sato had taught Aiko about reading hair as a reflection of the person's experiences. As Isabella worked, demonstrating color removal and reconstruction techniques, Aiko took detailed notes and found herself genuinely inspired by the master's approach.
"You," Isabella said suddenly, pointing directly at Aiko. "Japanese student. Come forward and show me your assessment of this model's condition."
Aiko's heart hammered as she approached the demonstration area, but she forced herself to focus on the technical challenge. The model's hair showed multiple layers of damage—bleaching, harsh coloring, heat styling without protection.
"The porosity is severely uneven," Aiko began, sectioning the hair carefully. "These areas have lost structural integrity from over-processing, while these sections retain some natural strength. I would recommend protein reconstruction treatment before attempting any color work, and a gradual approach that prioritizes hair health over dramatic results."
Isabella studied Aiko's technique as she worked, occasionally adjusting her hand position or suggesting alternative approaches. "Your technical foundation is excellent, but very precise. Very... controlled. Where did you train?"
"Japan, primarily. With a master who emphasized understanding hair's natural properties and working with them rather than against them."
"Ah, yes. Japanese precision combined with respect for natural beauty. Very different from Spanish passion, but equally valid." Isabella paused in her demonstration. "What is your name?"
"Aiko Matsumoto."
Something flickered across Isabella's expression—so briefly that Aiko almost missed it, but unmistakably a moment of recognition or surprise.
"Matsumoto," Isabella repeated slowly. "And you are here studying Spanish techniques for cultural exchange?"
"Yes, Maestra. I'm particularly interested in how different cultures approach the relationship between tradition and innovation in hairstyling."
Isabella nodded thoughtfully, but Aiko noticed that the master's attention remained focused on her throughout the rest of the workshop, even when working with other students. It was subtle—a glance here, a moment of observation there—but consistent enough to suggest more than casual interest.
As the workshop concluded and students began cleaning their stations, Isabella approached Aiko directly.
"Your work today was impressive," she said quietly. "You have natural sensitivity combined with excellent technical training. Have you considered advanced study beyond your current program?"
"I'm focused on learning as much as possible during my time here," Aiko replied carefully. "Though I'm always interested in opportunities to develop my skills further."
"There are private advanced workshops that might interest someone with your dedication. Intensive programs that go beyond basic cultural exchange." Isabella paused, seeming to weigh her words carefully. "Perhaps we could discuss possibilities over coffee sometime. Are you available this weekend?"
The invitation was unexpected and felt significant beyond its surface casualness. "I would be honored, Maestra."
"Excellent. Saturday afternoon at Café Central near Sol. Two o'clock."
As Isabella gathered her materials and prepared to leave, Aiko felt both excitement and apprehension about the upcoming meeting. The master's interest in her work was flattering, but the moment of recognition when she'd said her name suggested something more complex might be involved.
"How did it go?" Miguel asked as they walked toward the metro station after the workshop.
"Incredible instruction, and she invited me for coffee this weekend to discuss advanced training opportunities."
"That's amazing, Aiko. Isabella Martinez doesn't extend personal invitations lightly."
"Miguel," Aiko said carefully, "when I introduced myself, she reacted to my name. Just for a second, but there was definitely recognition."
"Recognition of you specifically, or just the name?"
"I'm not sure. But I have a feeling this coffee meeting is going to be about more than just advanced hairstyling techniques."
As the metro carried them through the tunnels beneath Madrid, Aiko found herself wondering if her systematic investigation was finally leading to the breakthrough she had been hoping for.
Isabella Martinez was clearly connected to something significant—the question was whether that connection would bring her closer to finding Javier, or lead her down an entirely different path than she had anticipated.
Either way, Saturday afternoon promised to provide answers she had been seeking since arriving in Spain.