Dialogue with the Spirits of the Skin
A Mystical Beauty Saga

Season 1 – When the Moon Descends: The Tale of the Loquat Spirit

Episode 1: The Beauty Salon “Hanakage”

Tokyo, Kagurazaka—down a narrow back street, removed just slightly from the bustle.
There stood a quietly poised salon.
Its name: Hanakage.

A private, reservation-only salon.
The wooden lattice door cast soft shadows, while the modest furnishings lent the space a quiet refinement.
Though rooted in Japanese design, the room also carried subtle traces of Western openness—
every detail chosen with care, to ease the hearts of those who entered.

Kodama Takano opened the entrance in silence.
Drawing one breath, he stepped inside.
The air was pure, balanced—
yet a faint unease brushed against the inside of his skin.

“Takano-san…!”

From the back, Misaki’s voice rang out.
The instant her eyes found him, she rushed forward.
At the corners of her eyes lingered faint traces of tears.
She stopped before him, wordless, unable to move further.

“…Thank you, truly, for coming.
I didn’t know what else to do—”

Her hoarse voice broke.
Holding back fresh tears, she tried to speak.

Takano’s reply was calm, yet gentle.

“I heard you started some new treatments recently.
That might be the cause, don’t you think?”

In truth, he suspected otherwise.
But looking into her weary face,
he could not speak words that would weigh her down further.

At his question, Misaki’s shoulders fell.

“I introduced new machines—electroporation, ion infusion.
I’ve checked them over and over, but they all function normally.

At first, I thought maybe the skin troubles were coincidence.
But they’ve grown…
One, then another…
and now, almost every day, complaints: redness, breakouts, irritation…”

Takano met her gaze with eyes of quiet compassion.

“I see. Then let me take a look at the machines first.
Don’t worry—it won’t take long.”

His words made her blink, then she gave a small nod.

“…All right. I’ll tend to the clients in the meantime.
If anything happens, call me immediately.”

Her eyes carried many unspoken thoughts,
but she had no space to give them voice.
She withdrew quietly.

The door closed without a sound.
He was alone.

The light was soft.
A faint sweetness lingered in the air.
And yet—beneath that softness,
something weighty and wordless lay hidden.

Takano stepped silently into the treatment room.
Placing his hand upon one of the newly installed devices, he powered it on.
He checked the waveform, the numbers, the feel of the surface.

As expected—everything was normal. No irregularity.

(…So that’s how it is.)

Within him, a soundless alarm began to ring.
The vial of Shisui hanging at his neck quivered faintly.
Something was sinking.
Something was calling.

He let his gaze sweep across the room.

There—by the wide glass window, on a low table—
sat a basket of fruit.

Loquats, heaped generously.
Their orange skins caught the remnants of sunlight,
returning a faint glow.

—Loquats.

As he stepped closer, fragrance rose.
Not mere scent, but something that tugged at memory.

(Loquats… how nostalgic. I used to eat them often as a child.)

A summer night, after a bath.
The feel of cold, damp fruit skin against small hands.

A trace of loquat fragrance—no, of blossoms—spread through the air.
And in that moment, something pierced his consciousness.

The air froze.

—Who’s there…?

It was not sound.
Yet it carried the shape of words,
falling deep into his awareness.

With the fragrance, presence swelled.

Sweet.
Yet bottomless.
Fragrant like light,
yet damp, carrying warmth.

It came suddenly.

“Fufufu… If it were me, I could solve this problem… fufufu.”

—A voice.

In his head, someone’s voice struck.
Instinctively, he closed his eyes.
He sealed sight, scent, touch—
focusing every nerve upon the resonance within.

(…That voice… whose is it?)

It was like a young girl, and yet like a grown woman.
Light, bewitching, teasing, yet tinged with a childlike sweetness.

Takano did not move.
Yet within, he was unsettled.
Never before had a “voice” arrived with fragrance,
resonating inside him.

He stilled his breath,
hiding the tremor,
opening his senses wide to hear what might come next.

The fragrance seeped into his skin.
A drop of heat lit within his chest.
The vial of Shisui swayed softly with each breath.

No more words came.
And yet—
in the silence, he knew he was being watched.

The presence was calling.

(So that’s it… I was summoned here.)

He knew with certainty.
This was no coincidence.
Something had guided him.

Within the vial, the red Shisui rippled gently,
in time with his breath.

The loquats in the basket seemed faintly aglow,
hovering in the air like more than mere fruit.

The presence had not vanished.
Rather, it was about to speak further.

Takano closed his eyes slowly.

“…Enough.
Show yourself.”