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“Azuma-san!”
The man in question looks up from his coloring book, tapping the end of a red marker just below his lip. Taichi bounds up in his tacky Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses slightly too small for his face, and so much puppy-ish charm that anyone else would think he was method. It makes him smile with ease.
“Oh, Kyota-kun, aren’t you looking handsome in that? It makes you stand out.”
Taichi blinks, a little taken aback at being referred to in-character, but he’s learned well; he doesn’t miss a beat. “Ya think so? Aniki said the same thing! Or… at least, I definitely think he’s thinkin’ it. I can never tell… He’s so cool, ain’t he?” The moment his character breaks, he looks proud of himself - Azuma swears he can see that tail wagging behind him. He’s too cute.
“...Oh, right, dress rehearsal! Azuma-san, you know a lot about skin care, right? What about makeup?”
Azuma raises an eyebrow, his eyes dancing over a thought. “I know enough about makeup, but mostly about caring for your face afterward. Did you need my help with something?”
Taichi nods. “The Director’s been trying her best with Sakyo-nii, but… It’s going really badly? Ban-chan’s the only one in Autumn Troupe who’s any good with it, but Yuki-chan’s fussing over the hems on his suit right now and said if he moves an inch, the yakuza’s gonna be the last thing he’s worried about...!”
Azuma laughs on a sigh. “Everyone sounds so excitable. I was wondering what all that yelling was about earlier.” He sets his coloring book to the side, pulling himself from the couch with his unnaturally natural grace. “Well, then... I’ll see what I can do. Lead the way.”
Azuma allows himself to be led backstage, ducking and diving between a sea of ensemble members going over lines and crew members making sure the lights wouldn’t fall and crush their actors. He only barely pays enough attention to stop walking when he sees the confused grimace on Taichi’s face, propped with his ear against the door.
There was really no reason to lean against the door, though. He could hear the voices inside clear as day.
“I’m sorry... I’m not actually any good at this...”
“Honestly... Look at this mess. What am I going to do with you?”
“This is my first time dealing with something this big!”
Oh, Jesus Christ.
Azuma glances over at Taichi, who looks like he’d rather be tumbling inside a running dryer.
“- I’m gonna gonna go see how Ban-chan and Yuki-chan are doing, I believe in you, Azuma-san!” Then off he goes, nearly toppling over a shoji screen on his way out, and Azuma can’t help but hide an amused smile. Such a good boy.
As the experienced adult, he knows better - and if he doesn’t, well, it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. With one eye open, he gives the knob a careful twist.
His attention firstly hones in on Sakyo’s expression twisted up in pain as Izumi frantically scrubs at his back. This… isn’t exactly the position he had expected, either.
“Can’t you be more gentle?”
“I’m trying! Please just bear with it a little longer, it’s really - difficult - to get off!” Poor Izumi’s efforts are punctuated by especially rough and frustrated scrubs, accompanied by Sakyo’s especially deep frowns.
“... Mm, Director, I think Sakyo-kun’s skin deserves a little rest. It’s going to get red and irritated, and wouldn’t that be unsightly?” He waltzes into the room, equally endeared by Izumi and pained for the victim of her eagerness. His eyes do a quick scan of the bottles dressing the vanity before they return to Sakyo, who… seems to be avoiding eye contact.
“Oh, Azuma-san!” With Izumi’s attention successfully diverted, Sakyo has a chance to sit up. Azuma assumes his sigh is an unspoken thanks. “Thank goodness… I used the wrong foundation, but it was way too dark, so I tried covering it with the lighter foundation, but it just looks... wrong... and it won’t come off.”
He glimpses at Sakyo’s back, and it’s truly a messy canvas. The different skin tones blend together into a big mess, overlaid with splotches of red, rubbed-raw skin and… spots of blue and green? With the splatters of makeup over top, it looks like bruises. Had Sakyo injured himself during practice? He couldn’t recall, but it wasn’t implausible - Ginji was definitely the most demanding of Sakyo’s roles so far. It was also pretty amusing to think that Sakyo got too into a yakuza role.
“Heh, well, don’t you worry,” Azuma teases, patting her head, “there’s nothing permanent. I’ll have this fixed by the beginning of your dress rehearsal.”
The warmth from the director’s smile could wipe the autumn chill from any room. “Thank you so much, Azuma-san. You’re a lifesaver. While you do that, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to go check in with the light techs and make sure everything’s looking good. I’ll be back soon!”
Azuma waves to send her off, but the moment she’s gone, the near-winter chill returns, cutting right through the awkward silence she left behind.
Just as he’s about to dive into the tease, Sakyo holds up a finger. “Don’t start.”
“Don’t start what? You’re assuming the worst of me, Sakyo-kun. That’s a little hurtful.” He gravitates toward the towel Izumi had left behind, and he can tell from the smell there’s nothing in it but a bit of water. It’s almost cringe-worthy; he’ll really have to go over proper makeup removal with their director later. For now, he plucks a bottle close to the mirror and sits down crisscross beside her unwitting victim.
Sakyo still hasn’t met his eyes. Azuma can’t tell if it’s the lingering effects of Izumi having been in such an intimate position with him, or maybe it’s some weird stubborn sense of yakuza pride that makes this sort of position so shameful.
“Well… if you don’t mind, I’ll get to work.” Wordlessly, Sakyo responds with a straightened back. He sighs, pours some of the liquid into the towel, and softly rubs at the layers of disaster.
He wipes the first streak down, and the flesh tones are replaced with… a pattern of primary colors. He hesitates, drawing his fingers over the spot. Sakyo bristles.
“ Yukishiro. We’re on a time crunch. Get on with it.”
He does as he’s asked, but each swipe reveals a new rainbow, with intricate lines that all interconnect. The silence doesn’t sting as if this is some big secret, but with a few final rubs, the full image is revealed - a multi-colored phoenix, consuming the man’s back as it spirals around a blooming chrysanthemum at the center.
Azuma’s breath catches. His eyes are drawn into every feather, every petal, every twist and pop of vivid life painted onto Sakyo forever.
“This is...”
The other sighs, peering over his shoulder. “What about it? All of you know what comes with being in the yakuza.”
His laugh is in disbelief. “Are you sure? Isn’t this actually a little... old-fashioned?” The word is chased with a smooth, chilling trace of his fingertip along the edge of a long, red feather.
The skin on Sakyo’s back isn’t the only part of him that’s red any longer. “It’s a time-honored tradition .”
“Aw, come on, now. It wasn’t a judgment. I suppose I’m just surprised to see something like this on someone so… straight-laced.” With a coquettish hum, Azuma walks two fingers along the yakuza’s back. “And vanilla.”
“I sincerely regret sending Nanao after you.”
Despite his words and his furrowed eyebrows, Sakyo’s eyes are closed and his body is beginning to relax. To have been summoned specifically? Azuma’s certain that Sakyo was willing to endure some of his regular provocations in exchange for a gentle hand.
Smiling to himself, Azuma rummages through the tubes and bottles of concealers and compares them against Sakyo’s skin. “Hm… Why go through the effort of covering this up? It’d suit Ginji-kun, don’t you think?”
“If it were clearly fake, but there were concerns that its realism would scare away the Autumn Troupe’s fans. They don’t know about my life outside of the Mankai Company, and I don’t believe they need to know, either.”
Azuma can’t argue with that. Yes, part of the Autumn Troupe’s charm was their overall “bad boy” aesthetic, but an actual yakuza might send the girls crying. He dispenses a small dab of foundation onto a nearby makeup sponge before he leans in close, tucking his chin on Sakyo’s shoulder, splaying his free hand across his back.
“Mm… It’s still a loss. I find it rather sexy.”
There’s… no adverse reaction. Sakyo doesn’t stammer or get flustered or give Azuma any choice words. In fact, beyond all expectations, he tilts his head slightly back and says, “This isn’t the first time you’ve done this, you know.”
“Huh?”
Sakyo chuckles at his genuine surprise, and it’s nearly an actual human laugh. “Did you seriously get so drunk that you completely forgot? During the training camp. You saw it then, too, in the bath. You had your hands all over me.”
The sake at that hot springs really had been exquisite. “Oh? And you didn’t try to stop me? You must have enjoyed the attention.”
Sakyo rolls his eyes. “If you have a smug look on your face, you’d better wipe it off.”
“Hmhm… Are you truly that blind without your glasses, Sakyo-kun? Does that mean you’d be totally caught off guard if I just…” The free hand on Sakyo’s back slides over his shoulder and up to his chin, Azuma’s thumb and index finger just shy of tilting it back toward his lips.
“... Mm, no. That wouldn’t be fair. It’d be more fun if you asked, I think, anyhow.”
Sakyo’s eyes completely avert and though try as he might to look unfazed, his face has gone beet red. “I can see two inches away from my face, you damn idiot.”
Azuma’s chuckle dances along with Sakyo’s embarrassment until it fades out into an awkward, silent pause. He could truly sit like this forever on the floor of the Mankai dressing room, teasing the not-so-subtle object of his affections day in and day out. He could never tire of how cute Sakyo could be when he abandoned his tough, wisened exterior and became easy to mold, like a fine, colorful clay.
But Azuma couldn’t be the only one to revel. The stage is waiting for Sakyo, practically begging for his presence, and it would be so cruel to deprive the world of such dazzling and intimidating charm.
Azuma checks his watch. Twenty minutes until the dress rehearsal is scheduled to begin, and he knows he’ll never hear the end of it from Sakyo if he ends up late - after all, said schedule was probably his own personal baby. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll get to work now, I promise.”
His fingers trail down the remains of the image in quiet wonder as he readies himself. Oh, what a tragedy to have to hide such a beautiful thing, but out of necessity he starts to sponge in the streaks of makeup, bringing the skin back to uniformity. Under his touch, Sakyo barely stirs, and for a moment, Azuma thinks he may have fallen asleep sitting up.
He truly wishes he could leave him like this.
“Hm… Say, Kazama, what should I do?”
Almost as if summoned by the reciting of one of his lines, the door creaks open to the young head of the Tatsuta group, idly adjusting his blazer.
“The Director said to start gathering everyone.”
That fares well at breaking Sakyo’s comforted daze. “... Right. Thanks, Hyodo. Yukishiro.”
“Yes, yes, you’re all set,” he assures with a few last dabs of his sponge and a decent spritz of setting spray. He fights the urge to lay his hand on Sakyo’s skin one last time. Everything has to dry, he knows, but the yearning is still there. “Go on, then. Break a leg.”
As Sakyo pulls himself up from the floor, Azuma tosses the roll of bandages beside him, which is caught with ease. “Wait five minutes, then have someone wrap you.”
He nods, but as he’s halfway through the door, Azuma calls out, “Oh, and… Sakyo-kun?”
He’s met with an impatient and wordless eyebrow. Azuma winks and says, “I’ll be in my room the rest of the night. Don’t leave me alone too long, okay?”
Sakyo rolls his eyes as he leaves, but Azuma knows how he truly feels when he hears a harsh, curt knock on his bedroom door hours later.