(I do not own Soul Eater and/or any other related title. All rights belong Square Enix and Atsushi Ōkubo)
(This story is a work of fanfiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the writer's imagination or are used fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.)
Today is the big day, Free noted mentally, as he walked alongside the clean streets of the Death City Promenade. The air was clear, the sky was blue, and everybody that passed by him were all smiles, hellos, and goodbyes. But today was different. Today was possibly the biggest of them all. One that involved a very certain cat-girl that had been together with him for the past few months.
And today, before the week was out, it was going to do something absolutely special. Free dug into the left side pocket of his black pants and wrapped his fingers around a small square-shaped item that rested inside. An item that contained a very valuable – and expensive – engagement ring. From the moment he touched it, he felt his heart practically skip a beat.
He could not believe that this was now happening. That he himself was going to make it happen. A decision he felt was surely about to change not just his life, but also hers as well. Nostalgic memories suddenly came flooding through his brain, and he sighed with a peaceful smile on his face. He could not believe that it had already been that long ago since he had first met Blair.
Oh, yes. It felt like it had only been yesterday since that time in his life. Time surely does fly by, real fast-like. And now, after seeing each other and being together for that long, days and weeks of dates, dinners, it was finally time for things to become even bigger.
But, if Free wanted it to be big, he had to make sure that it was done right. Everything else had been prepared, and the very last thing on the list was a nice, clean, close shave.
The idea had come to him just two days ago when he and Blair went out exploring the Death City marketplace. It was already at this point in time that Free had made the preparations for his proposal, yet still he felt like something was missing. He was dressed up in his usual civilian disguise; a red cap, a frown leather jacket and blue jeans and brown shoes, and Blair was done up in her usual sexy attire; a black-blue bikini top and a pair of matching black shorts.
She still wore her long high-heeled boots, and the bottom hems of her fur-collared coat were notably short, ending just below her breasts, exposing both her bare midriff and lower back. After about ten minutes of walking and wondering around, the pair stumbled upon a small fishmonger stand, one of Blair's favorite places to buy the fish in the market.
Upon seeing her, the stand's proprietor smiled big and both of his eyes transformed into hearts. He enthusiastically welcomed the ever so attractive Blair and then offered her a wide selection of fish that he had on display. She turned to Free.
"What do ya think, Babe?" she asked, "Alaskan rainbow trout or just salmon?" Free pondered for a minute until he finally made his decision.
"We haven't tried the trout yet," he stated. "Let's give that a shot."
Once after they had made their purchase, they continued on their merry way across the marketplace. Five more minutes had gone by and they two stumbled upon a small food court that was lined with small food trucks and seven or eight small tables that were spread out in the area. Once after they found the right table, they looked around until Blair spotted a coffee stand that was close by. She happily got up from the table, told Free to wait a moment, and then went off at the beginning of the line.
After a minute or two of waiting patiently, Free suddenly heard something that caught his ears. He turned to Blair, who was still in line for coffee. He listened closely and he heard her singing to herself a merry little tune, a song if you will, about wanting a "clean shaven man". The lyrics sounded a little something like this...
"I want a clean-shaven man," she sang,
"I want a clean-shaven man.
If he's short or tall, it doesn't matter at all.
He doesn't have to be too sharp to be my razor man.
I want a clean-shaven man,
I want a clean-shaven man.
Oh, how I'd behave when he takes a shave,
I want a clean-shaven man."
Free smiled at how cute it was and rested his head on his left hand, staring dreamily at her as she continued to sing. The moment his bare hand touched the side of his face, realization suddenly dawned on him and he traced his cigar-sized fingers across his chin and jawline, feeling the thick and coarse bristles of his stubble that now covered around his face.
He frowned and his brows knitted. Yikes, when was the last time he had a shave? But then again, when did he ever have a shave at all? The immortal werewolf did not like what he was feeling. The idea finally came to him. Yes, of course. That's what he was missing. If he was going to ask Blair's hand, he should at least look good while doing it.
And so, here he was, two days later, with his plans now set up, and this being the final piece of it all. After exploring more of the Promenade, Free finally arrived at his main destination; the Death City Barbershop. The building was about three stories high, with two floors. The marquee was decorated in white, blue, and red, same with the barber pole next to the doors.
The front window had a poster with Lord Death displayed on the front. Free further analyzed the place. Hopefully, this was the right location for a shave. Most barbershops these days don't do that kind of thing anymore. Luckily, this was possibly one of the only few places in Death City that still does both a shave and a haircut.
Free casually walked inside and he was treated with the nice perfumed scent of sandalwood and menthol and the sound of classic 1940's and 50's background music. Inside, he saw that there was at least one chair that was available, with a workstation that included a mirror, some bottles of hair treatment, a stool, scissors and clippers, along with a straight razor, a shaving soap mug, and other hair and shaving products. Free noticed one man working behind a back room at the far end of the place.
From the moment Free entered inside, the bell above the door rang, catching the man's attention.
"Take a seat, I'll be right with ya," the man said in a clear voice. Free did what he was told and and sat on a chair that was closely next to the glass window. After about a minute of waiting, the man, whatever it was he was doing in the backroom, came up to him. Free stood back up.
"Sorry about that, sir," he said, "Just got some fresh supplies and was sorting them out. But anyway, welcome to my humble shop, sir. Arthur McDougal's the name and cuttin' hair and shavin' faces my game." Free was slightly taken aback by the man's tone of voice and mannerism. This guy acted and sounded like he had come straight out of 1950's, right down to brown pompadour and choice of clothes; he wore a gray pinstriped vest, a red necktie, a white button-up overshirt with the long sleeves rolled up close to the elbows, and a pair of black slacks and shoes.
"What is it I can do you for?" Arthur McDougal asked.
"I hear that you're one of the best barbers in the city," Free said. McDougal shook his head.
"Oh no, not one of," he stated. "It's THE best, for you'll find nothing like it anywhere else in Death City, I guarantee." Free smiled at the man's words.
"Well, in that case," said the immortal werewolf. "I'd like to have your finest close shave possible." McDougal beamed and clapped his hands together.
"Splendid! Just what I love to hear!" he exclaimed. "Just have a seat at that chair by the workstation and I'll set everything up." With that, Free walked on over and sat in the barber chair and casually stared at his reflection in the mirror while McDougal made for the preparations, grabbing a large white barber's cape from behind the front desk and wrapping around Free, covering almost the front of his entire body.
"So what's the occasion, slugger? Ya got a hot date?" McDougal asked, with a click of his tongue and a wink of his left eye. Free snorted in response.
"Oh, she's hot alright," he stated. "she's so fine, she'll make the Devil himself fall at her feet." McDougal whistled.
"Whoa, sounds like a real Aphrodite, don't she?" Free frowned and looked at the barber with a creased eyebrow.
"Aphro-what?" he asked.
"Aphrodite," the barber repeated. "You know, the Greek Goddess of Love...? Ah, nevermind. So anyway, what's your story? She any good?"
"Oh, she's amazing!" Free exclaimed dreamily. "And today is a very big day for the both of us!" To show what he meant, Free pulled out the black velvet box from his pocket and revealed inside the engagement ring. McDougal's eyes beamed in awe.
"Well, I'll be... You lucky dog." the barber commented. "Say no more, cowboy. Today, this will be a special exception for you and your girl. Today, I am going to give you the best shave that you will have ever known, completely free of charge." Free sighed with relief.
"Oh, thanks a lot, man," he said gratefully. "I'm kinda broke anyway," After that, McDougal then went to work and examined Free's face, looking carefully at the stubble that went across his chiseled chin and jawline.
"Jeez, tiger," he commented. "When was the last time you shaved?" Free chose his words carefully, so as to not give away any hint of what he really was, given the fact that he was an eight-hundred-year-old immortal werewolf.
"Um... Would you be very surprised if I said never," Free said, embarrassed by the question.
"No foolin'?" McDougal asked, eyeing him. "You sayin' you've never once shaved in your entire life?" The barber crossed his arms.
"Well, sounds to me like you picked a very good time to do so," he stated. "Anyway, let's get started." McDougal went on over to the side of the workstation and opened a large compartment that contained four different colored shaving products; tubes, containers, bottles, balms, you name it, and they were all organized separately from each other so that Free could decipher which one was part of what series. Free could tell that they all came from the same brand because its name was displayed largely on each one of the products. At the far left side of the compartment, the first line, he saw, was green while the other ones were white, red, and blue, extending to the middle and right side.
"This is by far one of my most favorite shaving brands in the world; Proraso*." McDougal said. "It's Italian, encase you're wonderin'. Each one of these lines has a unique way and style based on what kind of shaving experience you want. Right here...," he pointed to the first series at the left, "is Proraso Green, the very first line of their products. This one is for all skin and beard types and it's key formulaic ingredients are made with eucalyptus oil and menthol."
"Euca-what?" Free asked, confused.
"Eucalyptus," McDougal pronounced, slowly enough so that Free could understand. "It comes from the gum trees in Australia. Menthol is like a minty substance. It will give you a very nice and cool sensation on your skin. It's like putting ice on your face." After that, the barber moved on to the next series.
"This here is Proraso White," he explained. "This one is for those with sensitive and easily irritated skin. It also helps prevent redness and it will leave your skin nice and soft. And, it smells of lime and apple. Next, we have here is Proraso Red; for thicker and courser beards, this line will help exfoliate and nourish your skin very nicely, with a formulaic touch of shea butter and sandalwood oil."
"And finally," McDougal went on, "we have Proraso Blue; this one is for those who want a very comfortable close shave, with it's main ingredients consisting of aloe vera and vitamin E, which is actually very good and healthy for your skin. So what do ya say, tiger? Which one shall be your poison of the day?" Free intently examined all four of the lines in the compartment. He rubbed his chin. Based on McDougal's description, they all sounded good, which made it almost impossible for him to pick which one. Finally, he turned to the man.
"Well, what does the good barber suggest?" McDougal smiled. A very wise question.
"Green it is then," With that, he grabbed the Green series from out of the compartment and then he moved on over to the coat rack next to the left side of the mirror and put on a blue linen apron. McDougal then zeroed in towards Free's right until he came upon what looked like, to Free at least, a small steel box with a door that opened to reveal rows of rolled up towels. Heat and steam flew out and rose to almost reach the ceiling above. McDougal carefully grabbed one of the warm towels and returned back to Free, who looked at him confusingly.
"What's the towel for?" he asked.
"When you're about to shave," McDougle informed, "what you want to do is put a warm and damp towel on your face for almost a minute. This will help both hydrate and open the pores in your skin, softening it up so that it will be much easier for the razor to glide."
"For real?" Free asked. McDougal nodded.
"Oh, I guarantee, ranger," he said. "Either that, or a nice hot shower will do. I warn ya though, it's kinda hot." With that, Arthur McDougal carefully positioned the towel onto the lower part of Free's face, just below the nose. Free began to feel relaxed from the warmth that the towel had brought. He then rested his against the head of the chair and closed his eyes. McDougal gently pushed his fingers against the towel, making doubly sure that it the heat and warm water was everywhere on Free's face. After about a full thirty seconds, the barber carefully removed the tower and placed it onto the workstation.
McDougal then grabbed a small handheld cylindrical-shaped container, which read, Crema Pre Barba on the front, which meant, "Pre-Shave Cream" in Italian. McDougal unscrewed the lid and grabbed a nickel-size amount with his index finger. He placed the container down on the workstation and then rubbed the cream onto Free's face, carefully massaging it into the skin with circular movement. Once after McDougal was finished, he went over to the sink next to the workstation and washed his hands.
"Wow, you weren't joking about the menthol," Free commented, once after the cooling sensation finally enveloped his face. "This stuff feels great. You're right, this stuff does feel like ice."
"Now you see why it's my favorite," the barber answered with a smile, once after he was done washing his hands. "The cream itself also helps soften and straighten up the hairs of your stubble, making it a lot easier to shave." He then grabbed a shaving boar brush with a long black handle, a brown ceramic bowl, and a metal tube of the Proraso Green shaving soap. Once after Mcdougal dampened the brush in hot water, he then squeezed about two centimeters of the soap in-between the wet bristles and then brushed it around into the ceramic bowl in a circular motion until he was now able to create a nice rich-looking lather of shaving cream.
"The best shave comes from a simple brush and a little dab of shaving soap," McDougal explained. "I can't explain why, but this has always been my favorite part of the process. I just love creating the lather with the brush. It's very fun and exciting." Free shrugged his shoulders.
"Everyone has their quirks," he commented. Once after he was finished, the barber moved the brush and painted the lather onto Free's face until it was nice and coated in almost every corner. "There we go, all nice and covered. And now, for the main attraction," McDougal grabbed a small handle from a short hanger on the workstation. With the flick of his wrist, a single edged blade popped out from the side. This action perturbed Free.
"Um, what's that?" he asked, concerned.
"This here, cowboy, is a straight razor," the barber explained. "In this shop, we don't use modern aluminium razors, because they can easily cause skin irritation and redness. Steel razors, on the other hand, won't cause that much of a fuss. This is a classic, vintage style barbershop, where we use old-fashioned methods to shaving, like my grandfather" McDougal went to work in thoroughly sharpening the blade of the razor, grinding it carefully yet skillfully against a whetstone until he felt like it was perfectly sharp enough. After that, he grabbed a leather strop and went through the same process, smoothing out the grind from the whetstone.
"Alright then, Sweeney Todd," Free muttered jokingly, "Work your magic. Just don't feel the sudden urge to slit my throat while you're at it." McDougal lightly chortled at the joke, and then returned his previous composure.
"Alright, champ," McDougal said, motioning for Free move his chin up. "Hold very still," With that, Free closed his eyes, and the barber went to work. McDougal's hand was delicate, yet firm at the same time, as he glided the blade along the lines of Free's face, taking with it a large amount of the stubble, leaving nothing behind but a clear landscape of smooth skin on one side.
McDougal moved to rinse the razor blade in hot water, removing any shaving residue that it had picked up. He then moved to the right side of Free's face and went through the same process, removing any hair and stubble he had growing around his jawline. Free felt the blade down his upper and lower lip then he heard the sound it made as it glided along the grain of his stubble, picking up as much of the growing hair as it could. The same happened with his neck as he felt the blade glide upwards to his chin.
McDougal went on over to the sink to rise his straight razor once more.
"Are we done?" Free asked curiously.
"Not yet, skipper," the barber said. "We got another way to go. One shave won't cut it - no pun intended," McDougal re-applied the lather onto Free's face and then he further explained...
"We are going to do this a second time. Trust me, it will help make doubly sure that you get a nice close shave," With that, Mcdougal re-applied the lather onto Free's face and went through the entire process again, only this time, the barber shaved across the grains and the eventually, against it, which Free realized felt somewhat a lot tougher. Finally, after all of that was over, McDougal grabbed a cold wet towel and wiped away any leftover shaving soap on Free's face, rinsing away any residue that he may have missed.
"And now," the barber said, "for the final act." He moved on over and grabbed a small glass bottle of aftershave toning lotion.
"You'll feel a little burn, but this stuff will help prevent any redness and shaving rashes on your face," McDougal explained, as he unscrewed the cap off and dabbed a few drops onto his hand. "It will also make you feel fresh, relieved, and smelling enriched."
The barber lightly rubbed the toning lotion in hands and padded them onto Free's bare face. Free lightly ground at first as he felt the burning sensation as Arthur McDougal massaged the aftershave into his smooth skin. After that was done, McDougal returned to the sink and washed his hands.
"Oh, there's that menthol again," Free chimed, his face once again feeling cooled and refreshed.
"Great stuff, eh?" McDougal spoke.
He then dried his hands on a towel and he turned to Free to fan his face with the towel to help dry the lotion. "And now, we are officially done." After the barber removed the white barber's cape, Free lifted up his hands and felt his face and then he examined himself in the mirror. Wow! So soft and smooth, like a newborn's bottom. He now pretty much looked and felt really naked. Free smiled.
Then again, Blair would probably love to see that, he mentally joked.
"So, what do ya think, ranger?" McDougal asked. Free turned to face him.
"I love it," he said. "Best first shave I've ever had." He then stood back up onto his feet and shook the barber's hand.
"Thank's a lot, man," he said.
"Anytime, mac," he answered. "Good look with your girl. Hope your proposal goes well." With that, Free nodded and said, "Thank you," once more.
Blair is going to love this, he mentally said, as he turned around and headed straight out the front door.
Well, I hope you guys enjoyed reading this fic as much as I did writing it. And I cannot wait to read what you guys think in your reviews. Don't be afraid to give me some constructive criticism and tell me what I could do to improve this story, okay? Righto!
*Yes, Proraso is a REAL Italian brand based on grooming and personal care, most of it is shaving. The four lines mentioned above in the story, Green, White, Red, and Blue, are also real. Awesome stuff. And no, Proraso is NOT paying me at all to sponsor them or their products. I included them in this story for the sake of fun.
Oh, and kudos to anybody who figures out the song Blair was singing from earlier. ^_^
But anyway, I hope that you guys loved the story and I hope that you all have a good February. "Arrivederci!"(Goodbye!) ;)
