The Village That Smelled Like Trouble

The village of Nakaibito was the kind of place where laundry dried in neat rows and cats napped on warm windowsills without a care in the world.

In the middle of the main street sat a little salon with a spinning barber pole and a hand-painted sign that read: **Magical Snip Salon**.

Inside, Maki was sweeping hair off the tile floor, humming to herself. Yuki was organizing combs by size — smallest to largest, because anything else made her twitch. Yuko was near the window, untangling a knot in her own hair and losing the battle.

"Slow day," Yuko muttered.

"Perfect day," Maki said cheerfully.

Then, from somewhere down the street — **CRASH.**

A potted plant hit the ground. Someone yelped. Then came the sound of running feet, a lot of them, and a voice shouting something that sounded very much like *"NOBODY'S CUTTING ANYTHING!"*

Yuki slowly set down her comb.

"...Still think it's a perfect day?"

The Parade Nobody Asked For

Maki dropped her broom.

Yuki and Yuko were already at the window.

Five boys came tearing down the main street like a small, shaggy avalanche. Their hair was long, tangled, and flopping everywhere — over their eyes, into their mouths, past their chins. They knocked over a fruit basket outside old Mrs. Tanaka's market stall and didn't stop once.

"My persimmons!" Mrs. Tanaka hollered, waving her ladle.

Right behind the boys, two bigger kids jogged after them, laughing meanly. One was round-faced and grinning. The other, taller, wore a green and black crown tilted sideways on top of wild spiked hair with bright green streaks. He was swinging a giant pair of scissors — *actually swinging them* — and cackling.

"Don't worry, we'll give you a FREE haircut!" he shouted.

Yuko pressed her face against the glass.

"Is he using scissors as a weapon?"

Maki grabbed her apron strings and pulled them tight.

"Those boys are going to run straight into traffic," she said. "Or off a bridge."

Yuki was already moving toward the door.