The Vast Sky Beyond

Mingmie Chijian.

Though it was a barbershop, it stood far from Konoha's bustling districts, near the village's edge, nestled between mountains and water. There was no sign identifying it as a barbershop, just a simple wooden plaque hanging above the door. Unless you were a regular, you would have no idea what the place was for.

Even if some curious passerby opened the door a crack to peek inside, what they saw was not hair scattered across the floor, but a broad "dry garden" covered in white gravel. Along a narrow path running through it, a clear pond lay to the left, where a few koi occasionally swam by, stirring delicate ripples. To the right stood carefully pruned maple trees. They were red maples, all thriving beautifully—a testament to the owner's considerable artistic sensibilities and fondness for "autumn leaves."

It turned out the owner wasn't the only one who loved the scenery. His customers did too. The best proof was that Mingmie Chijian's revenue rose by thirty percent every autumn.

As for the barbershop's rather mysterious name, it came from a senryu written by the owner himself: "Fireflies flicker, their light blinking on and off within a foot's span; how can loneliness be endured?"

The first half, with its fireflies' intermittent, flickering light, could evoke the shifting patterns of light and shadow as customers' cut hair fell before their eyes. The "foot" could stand for the barber's scissors, while "span" could also mean a room.

So the owner, a barber with considerable artistic ambition, turned the poem into the name of his shop.

As for what he meant by the latter half, "how can loneliness be endured," the owner never explained.

Some said he was fond of the Japanese aesthetic of impermanence and had simply added an emotional flourish at the end. Others said that he treated every hairstyle he finished like a work of art, and after pouring his heart and soul into it, he naturally felt lonely while his strength recovered. Still others claimed he thought no one in all of Konoha could match his skill—that he stood at the very peak, and was therefore left feeling empty, lonely, and cold...

In short, though everyone had their own interpretation, all the gossip pointed to one conclusion: this shop was incredible, and its owner was an outrageously skilled barber.

When he first opened the shop, the owner's bald head had raised plenty of doubts. Fortunately, his barbering skills were truly exceptional, and his respect for hair left a deep impression on people.

With all these factors in its favor, the shop gradually set itself apart from ordinary barbershops. It became an "upscale salon" that served only regulars, with customers drawn from Konoha's upper circles. Its owner naturally became a legendary figure in the village's barbering world, held in high esteem.

However, today, this "legend of the barbering world" had run into a problem—not a major one, but not a trivial one either.

Never mind how infuriating it was to be dragged out by a knock at the door while soaking in a rose-petal bath on a Monday, his day off. The owner considered himself a professional, after all, and his customers were all regulars—practically friends. If one of them came rushing over without an appointment on his day off, they must have found themselves in an emergency that required a haircut. Usually, it was either a funeral or a marriage proposal. The only things in life that left people utterly defenseless were death and love.

So this was the moment for him, guardian of appearances, to step in. It was also his duty to live up to his customers' trust.

But when he opened the door, what was he supposed to make of the messy blond kid in the glaring orange clothes standing in front of him?

As mentioned earlier, the owner was a man with considerable artistic ambition. In his view, a haircut wasn't some casual task where a barber simply did whatever he pleased. It was a clash between the barber's skill and the customer's sense of style.

In other words, the barber's taste must never overrule the customer's. The customer's needs came first. The barber's personal vision could only come into play after the customer had stated what they wanted, using his experience and skill to make the result more beautiful—a finishing touch.

In return, however, the customer had to have a sense of style of their own. To the owner, that was the mutual selection and respect between barber and customer.

Put plainly, customers couldn't have no sense of style. They had to know what sort of look they wanted. If they said "anything" or "whatever's fine," he could only admit that his own training was inadequate, since he had no idea what kind of hairstyle "anything" was, and ask them to seek out another barber.

That was right. The owner was a man with principles and style.

As for whether he used this as an excuse to screen his customers, raise his prices, and flatter his regulars along the way... that was something he couldn't very well say out loud.

Anyway, a kid like this—with messy hair that hadn't been cut in who knew how many months, a dirty face, sweat stinking up his clothes, and such an ugly outfit that the owner couldn't imagine where he'd gotten it—clearly had no sense of style. There was no way he could let him in!

He probably overheard some customers talking and got curious, so he came to try it out.

After glancing at the patches on Naruto's clothes, the owner had made up his mind.

"Um, boss... I came for a haircut."

As a typical rough-and-tumble kid from Konoha, with no connection whatsoever to the upper crust, Naruto knew nothing of the salon's unspoken rules. He simply followed Ino's instructions, looking rather sheepish.

"A friend recommended me."

"We're closed today..."

"Sorry, but we're not taking customers"—just as the principled, stylish owner was about to finish his icy refusal and shut the door, the corner of his eye caught sight of Ino Yamanaka, standing a short distance away and looking a little bashful. He smoothly changed tack:

"May I ask who your friend is?"

At that, Naruto pointed to Ino, who had somehow stepped a few paces away as soon as they arrived, putting on the air of a proper young lady... even though she was the one who'd dragged him all the way here and shoved him into the spotlight.

Then Naruto produced a red, leaf-shaped card with the characters "Yamanaka" engraved on it.

"She said she's a member and can bring someone in for a haircut?"

"A friend of a customer is a friend of mine. We're closed to outsiders, not friends. Please, come in."

The owner's expression thawed like snow in spring, and a perfectly measured, neither servile nor arrogant smile appeared on his face. He very readily opened the door and ushered the boy and girl into the garden.

Of course, the owner would never admit that he had let the boy in because he recognized the young lady of the Yamanaka Clan and didn't want to risk offending Konoha's famous Ino-Shika-Cho trio.

He would tell anyone who asked that, by sheer coincidence, at that very moment, his keen artistic eye had spotted the boy's hidden potential for beauty.

He had already decided that even if the boy said he didn't care what kind of haircut he got and wanted whatever, he wouldn't say a word...

What?

You want to know where his principles went?

As if principles were something that couldn't be adjusted. You had to be practical and adapt to the circumstances, didn't you?

Sometimes, taking a step back left more room for everyone to breathe.

"May I ask your name?" The owner was perceptive enough not to ask what Ino's relationship to the boy was. "Oh, pardon my manners. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Daigo Tono, owner of Mingmiechi Residence—assuming you can call yourself an owner when you're the only employee."

As he spoke, the owner rubbed his gleaming bald head and laughed heartily. He was polite, but also made fun of himself first, without the slightest air of arrogance. It was easy to like him.