Chapter Two: Please Remove My Blond Hair

At the dining table, Aoki Tsukasa was eating while pondering a very serious question.

Masao Kasugano was a man with a strong sense of responsibility, and a good person as well. But, to be honest, he really wasn’t what you’d call handsome.

To say he wasn’t very good-looking was, in fact, a generous evaluation rooted in Aoki’s respect for him; to be more objective, his appearance could only be described as utterly ordinary.

Don’t get the wrong idea—his kind of ordinary was nothing like the charismatic Koo Tin-lok or even Aoki Tsukasa himself; his was the sort of plainness where, if you picked ten random men off the street, eight would look about the same and the remaining two would be better-looking.

And he was poor.

Though he owned a small two-story house, it was much like a certain five-year-old’s father from the kindergarten—still saddled with thirty-six years left on the mortgage.

And he looked to be in his forties!

But Mrs. Kasugano was astonishingly beautiful.

Her long, silvery hair didn’t look dyed at all, but so naturally smooth and elegant it seemed as though she was born with it. Her skin was delicate and flawless; if it weren’t for the fine lines at the corners of her eyes, which nature could not quite hide, Aoki would have believed her if she’d claimed to be just twenty. Her features were so lovely that, even if she told Aoki she had once been an actress, model, or idol, he would probably half-believe it.

“Um, if it’s not too rude to ask… Madam, are you not yet thirty?” Aoki looked at the gentle, beautiful woman before him—who seemed more a maiden than a matron—and couldn’t help but ask in disbelief.

The couple, who had been struggling to make conversation with Aoki over dinner, paused their meal. Mrs. Kasugano was slightly taken aback, then exchanged a knowing smile with her husband before replying with a modest laugh, “Aoki, you’re quite the charmer. I’m already thirty-three this year—and my daughter is sixteen.”

Thirty-three, and already the mother of a sixteen-year-old! It was hard to fathom. Yet precisely because of this, Aoki found it all the more difficult to understand.

How had Masao Kasugano managed to marry such a stunning woman?

Wait a minute—she’s thirty-three, and her daughter is sixteen… Did she have a child at seventeen?

Aoki glanced at Masao with newfound respect.

Masao, clearly used to such questions, showed no embarrassment; instead, he laughed heartily, saying with pride, “Surprised? I was only twenty at the time, young and full of hope, when I met your Aunt An. I didn’t have much to offer, but she didn’t mind at all. She married me in a flash, despite everyone’s objections. We really shocked a lot of people back then.”

Wait, so you’re only about thirty-six now?

“That’s right—Masao was just twenty then. It wasn’t easy for him, but he still promised to take care of me and Sora. He gritted his teeth, borrowed money, and put down the deposit to buy this house for our marriage,” Mrs. Kasugano added, exchanging another tender glance with her husband.

“Um, Uncle Kasugano, you have a daughter?” The smell of romance seemed to waft from his curry, so Aoki hastily changed the topic.

At the mention of their daughter, both Masao and An’s faces grew somber.

“Yes, Sora, our daughter. She’s had poor health since childhood… but it’s alright. She should be discharged from the hospital in a few days, and I hope you’ll take care of her then,” Masao sighed.

Aoki nodded with a smile. “Thank you both for taking care of me—it’s the least I can do in return.”

He’d looked after his younger brother for years; caring for a girl would hardly be difficult.

After swallowing his last mouthful of rice, Aoki placed his bowl and chopsticks by the sink and, smiling, announced, “Uncle, Aunt, I’m off to get a haircut.”

Masao nodded in approval. Truth be told, he’d never quite gotten used to Aoki’s shock of blond hair, but he didn’t dare say anything to offend this seemingly more approachable delinquent.

“Do you have enough money?” Masao was just about to open his wallet when he saw Aoki pull out his own from his sweatpants. “I’ve still got plenty left.”

Masao nodded, but then seemed to remember something. He scratched his head awkwardly. “Your father’s old place has already been given up, and along with the money from the returned appliances and the deposit, I used it all to pay your new high school tuition. Private schools aren’t cheap, so there’s only a little left…”

“Please, Uncle, you manage that money. I’ll be relying on you a lot from now on, and I’m sure what’s left won’t go very far,” Aoki replied, feeling a pang of guilt—he was no longer a carefree youth. He knew well enough how important money was, and it wouldn’t be right to let Uncle Kasugano shoulder the burden alone. He’d just have to find a part-time job soon.

At the very least, he ought to take care of his tuition and lighten Masao’s burden.

Masao looked at the boy who seemed to have grown up overnight and smiled kindly. “Alright then, I’ll keep it safe for you. From now on, your allowance will come from that.”

But really, how much could be left? Ninety percent of the expenses would still fall on Masao’s shoulders.

Aoki understood this perfectly, but said nothing, only flashing a bright smile. “Alright, I’m heading out.”

With a bang, the door closed behind him. Masao turned to An with a peculiar look. “Honey… have you noticed how much Aoki has changed?”

An calmly cleared the dishes. “Perhaps his brush with death made him realize a few things.”

Masao stroked the stubble on his chin and scratched his head, sighing. “He really is a pitiful child…”

“You’re pitiful too,” An retorted, shooting him a look of concern. “Are you sure we can handle another person in the house, with things as they are?”

“Don’t worry!” Masao flexed his arm, showing off his unimpressive muscles. “I’m the father of two, you know!”

“Hmph.” An snorted, unimpressed. “From now on, there’ll only be one bottle of beer a week with dinner.”

“Nooo!” Masao cried out in anguish, burying his face in his arms on the table.

Meanwhile, Aoki arrived at a barbershop, opened the door, and found the shop empty except for the raucous laughter of comedians on the TV.

“Hey barber, please get rid of this blond hair—I can’t stand it anymore!” Aoki plopped himself into the empty chair, shaking his head at the messy yellow mop atop his head.

“Coming!” A burly man with slicked-back black hair and a face full of stubble stepped out from the back room. Aoki glanced at him and thought this guy must have been quite the looker in his youth.

Standing behind Aoki, the barber looked at his reflection in the mirror. “Welcome. What kind of cut would you like?”

“I really can’t stand this blond hair anymore. Just cut it short and make me look sharp,” Aoki replied, lounging back in the chair. If dyeing wasn’t so expensive, he might have tried the barber’s own slicked-back style—it would probably look good on him.

“Oh… So you’re trying to leave your delinquent days behind?” The barber busied himself with his tools as he spoke.

Aoki paused, then replied with a resigned tone, “No… It’s just that I’m starting a new school tomorrow and want to make a good first impression. That’s still important, right?”

“I see…” The barber seemed to understand. Seeing that Aoki didn’t deny his delinquent status, he tied the apron around him and, in a mature voice, said, “But no matter what, don’t get into fights, okay?”

“Especially don’t pick fights with those so-called ‘Beast Kings’ just to become the school boss. That’ll only cause trouble for everyone.” He picked up the clippers.

Aoki blinked. “Huh? Beast King… That’s a bit much, isn’t it?!”

But before he could finish, with a startled yelp, the barber’s razor had already shaved a clean, straight line right down the center of Aoki’s golden hair.

Staring at the newly bald strip down the middle of his scalp, Aoki and the barber exchanged stunned looks in the mirror.

Twenty minutes later, Aoki left the barbershop, his face dark as thunder, but with a fair stack of bills in his hand.

Under the sunlight, his gleaming bald head shone brightly.

Not far away, a black-haired boy hesitated outside the barbershop. When he saw Aoki emerge, he steeled his resolve and strode inside.

“Barber, please dye my hair a bright yellow and give me a lively perm. From today, I want to be a delinquent!” the dark-haired boy declared as he sat in the chair, only to see the barber, clutching his wallet and squatting in the corner in utter despair, his eyes vacant and muttering to himself, “Since when does ‘cut it short’ mean ‘shave it all off’ to delinquents…? Where did I go wrong…”