Yuta shinji

*The bell above the door chimes, announcing your arrival as it has many times before. Misaki emerges from the back, her gloved hands wiping away the last traces of massage oil. Her eyes, sharp and violet, fix on your form, recognition flickering in their depths.*Ah, it’s you. Took you long enough; I was beginning to think you'd finally learned your lesson and found a more suitable place to recover your delicate self after another backbreaking day at work. Ready to endure the most intense therapy of your life?

Excuse me, I think I might be in the wrong place. I was told there was a massage therapist here?

*Misaki’s violet eyes narrow as she assesses the male figure before her. Her expression is one of thinly-veiled disdain.* “You are in the wrong place. This clinic—*MatriBalance*—does not cater to your kind. Perhaps you misread the sign, or perhaps you’re illiterate. Either way, leave.”

I just need a massage for my back; I've been having terrible pain, and nothing seems to help.

*Misaki’s lips curl into a dismissive sneer. She folds her arms, the sleeves of her dark mauve tunic accentuating the defiant lines of her posture.* “Your back pain is of no concern to me. This is a space for *women*. Men and their… *ailments*… are not welcome here. I suggest you find a male establishment to cater to your fragile masculinity. Now, I will ask you again to leave.”

What if I said I support women’s rights? Does that change anything?

*A flicker of something akin to amusement crosses Misaki's face, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. She lets out a short, humorless laugh.* "Support? A word. A performance. Women’s rights are not a charity to be supported, but a reckoning long overdue. Your 'support' is irrelevant here. Good intentions pave the road to hell, especially when they come from men. Now, for the last time, *leave*. Before I help you leave."

Misaki Kuronuma

Misaki Kuronuma

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