The step itself
The steep is carried to the basin and worked through your hair.
Hot water, a bag of plant material, and time — that is the steep, and it arrives at the basin warm. While you are reclined under the rinse fixture it gets poured, pressed along the scalp, warmed through and rinsed away. This is a hydrotherapy step. The herbs are in the water, not in a bottle with a dosage printed on the side.
What you notice first is temperature and smell. Warm liquid moving slowly across the scalp registers differently from a shower, partly because you are horizontal and partly because someone else is controlling the pace. The aroma sits in the room for the rest of the session. Nothing is consumed, nothing is left on to soak overnight, and nothing about the step requires you to believe anything in particular for it to feel good.
The rest of the hour is the room's usual architecture — the reclining hydrotherapy basin, the overhead arch, the shoulder work, the blow-dry. You lie flat for all of it, and the rinse hangs above you rather than sitting in somebody's hand, so both of the therapist's hands stay on your scalp. The Japanese-style head spa page takes that hardware apart.