Work Text:
Kazunari wasn’t supposed to be here. The room was silent as he bowed, his head touching the cool tatami mats. The three men in front kneeled in front of him just stared. Kazunari’s master wanted him to come in to tattoo a client. The one on the left had bleached blonde hair with a brown undercut and a goofy grin. The one on the right had slicked black hair that fell just above his shoulders. The one in the middle, who he assumed was the highest ranked among the two, had blonde hair and what seemed to be a permanent scowl and glasses. Kazunari’s hands nearly shook from excitement to finally put his skills to use after a month-long hiatus due to his master’s orders to study ukiyo-e. But now his hands shook from fear. His master slowly raised into a kneeling position, Kazunari following his actions. His eyes traveled to the man in the middle, the golden pin of the Ginsenkai emblem sparkling.
“This,” The master motioned towards Kazunari. “Is my protégé, Kazunari. He is exceedingly talented and a rising horishi.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He bowed his head in greeting.
“And?” The blonde man in the middle raised an eyebrow. “Is he filling in for you or something?”
“Yes. The chairman has given permission after seeing Kazunari’s work.”
The blonde man eyed Kazunari. He swallowed dryly. The master didn’t mention a single thing about knowing the Ginsenkai family, much less being involved in the yakuza. The young artist fell in love with the art of tattooing after meeting his current master who is a known modern ukiyo-e artist. He never saw himself taking the route of a horishi and instead studied classical Japanese art in college. If he knew that choice of asking for an apprenticeship would lead here, he probably would have stayed in college. Kazunari’s mind flitted back to past clients that had come into the shop. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. Tattoos were no longer only for the yakuza, especially since that age was rapidly declining as were the families that made it. He had met foreigners with a love of Japanese art, people who wanted the beautiful meanings as reminders, and some who just wanted it because it looked cool. Had he been blind to the people he worked on?
“Fine then,” The man sighed and tilted his head next to him. “Sakoda.”
“Yes, sir!” The man to the left, Sakoda, perked up. “Allow me to introduce us! I am Ken Sakoda. This here is Sakyo Furuichi, the first lieutenant to the boss, and next to him is Ichiro Makita, a man hoping to be-”
“Sakoda,” Ichiro huffed. “Shut it.”
“You got it!”
“Kazunari,” Sakyo’s voice was almost threatening. “You seem nervous. Are you ok?”
Was he? Kazunari's eyes flitted between the three of them. If the master described Kazunari, it would be an out-going college kid that made friends with everyone he saw. It almost surprised him to see the young man so quiet. Kazunari nodded and then smiled. He knew he could always walk out if he wanted to. But he loved this job, his master so much, had come so far that he couldn’t just quit.
“Totally!” He let out a laugh. “Just a bit surprised to be here after a short notice.”
“Good.” Sakyo smirked.
“So...who’s getting the tattoo? And are we doing full body work? Half suit? Just a sleeve? Do you need to see my portfolio? I think Master put it here somewhere..”
“Hold up, kid,” Ichiro held up his hand. “We need to set up some ground rules first.”
“Oh, ok.” Kazunari glanced at his master. “Do I have to like...sign a contract?”
“How well do you know the history of horishi in Japan?” Sakyo asked.
“Uh, not m-much…” He paused. “Should I know? I-I apologize.”
Master laughed, patting Kazunari on the back. He was still there. The enthusiastic kid that wanted nothing more than to create wasn’t gone. Just hiding. If Master had any qualms about trusting Kazunari with work as important as this, he wouldn’t have taken him in as an apprentice in the first place. Sakyo studied the young boy in front of him. It seemed he had another extrovert to take care of, other than Sakoda. It’s not that he had doubts about him being loose lipped, but he needed to lay out the basics. He can’t go in blind.
“First off, your master here is the family horishi, specifically that of the chairman’s,” Sakyo adjusted his glasses. “We have to get special permission to get work done by him, but it is seen as a rite of passage of sorts. I got my tattoos done by him when I was of age. He also has our family’s utmost respect. If you choose to take on a position of horishi, you will also earn our respect.”
“So...I don’t need to sign a contract of silence or something like that?”
“I like this guy!” Sakoda let out a loud laugh.
“Oi,” Sakyo huffed. “Shut up. You’re being too loud.”
“There was a time when horishi would hold the biggest secrets of a family. But that really isn’t the case now, especially since yakuza don’t operate like they used to.” Ichiro explained.
“I thought I taught you all of this,” Master teased, patting Kazunari’s head. “You’ll be ok. I wouldn’t have recommended you if I didn’t think otherwise.”
“Then,” Kazunari paused and smiled broadly. “I will gladly accept.”
“Good,” Sakyo nodded and stood. “Then that’s all for today.”
“Wait, who am I-”
“Me,” Ichiro said. “It’s about time I got a piece. We can discuss it later this week.”
Both the master and Kazunari bowed as they said their goodbyes. When Kazunari lifted his head, he saw Sakyo holding a card. Kazunari took it with both hands, bowing his head again. It had Sakyo’s information, including the location of the main office building that the Ginsenkai family operated out of. Now that the three were gone, Kazunari let out a slow long breath. His head whipped over to his master. He was happily sipping on a cup of tea. Kazunari scowled.
“Don’t mess with me like that, Master!” He whined.
“Oh? I thought you would be overjoyed?”
“I am but...It’s just surprising.”
“Don’t let your preconceptions get the best of you,” Master said, eyeing his student. “I’ve been working for the Ginsenkai family for decades. They are good people.”
“I didn’t say they weren’t,” Kazunari mumbled. “But you can’t expect me to not be surprised when three yakuza just randomly show up.”
“Shouldn’t you be thanking me? This is the first client you have after graduating your apprenticeship after all.”
“I am thank- what?” Kazunari paused. “Do you mean it?”
“Of course,” He set down his tea. “That month-long hiatus? It was to prepare you for this. I believe that you-”
“You’re the best! Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is-I can’t- Master, I love you!”
The older man let out a loud laugh as Kazunari happily bounced. Kind eyes stared into grateful ones. This relationship had grown quickly in the first year it started. Three years later, Kazunari not only had an amazing mentor, but a man he loved as he would a father. The older man had no family himself, dedicating his life to art. He saw himself in Kazunari and always knew that if he had a son, he would be exactly like the young man in front of him.
With a large leap, Kazunari fell into his master’s arms, a mix of laughing and sobbing emitting from his lips. All his master could do was hug him back, rubbing his back. Kazunari had isolated himself from the world to immerse himself in art studies. Of course, he did have friends, but were they strong friendships? He knew he was outgoing, he knew he talked a lot , and he knew how to make people laugh. But at the end of the day, he had no one to go to about his worries or his dreams. He had no one to just enjoy being in the presence of. So hearing the high praise from his master, hearing that all his hard work and isolation had paid off made him just a little emotional.
“Alright, enough,” Master pulled away then stood, brushing off his pants. “Prepare for this, ok? I won’t be there to monitor you, but I would like to see the finished product.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Have you brushed up on your tebori skills?”
“Of course!” The young man grinned, pulling up his sleeve to reveal a gorgeous sakura and botan tattoo. “You drilled it into me, and gave me one of my own.”
“Good,” He nodded, sliding the door to the room open. “Oh, and Kazunari?”
“Yes, Master?”
“I’m proud of you.”
***
The next couple days Kazunari spent collecting pictures of art he had drawn and some tattoos he had worked on with his master. Tattoos had a deep meaning in Japan, with everything having a meaning and decades of history behind it. Especially during the eras in which ukiyo-e art was popular and when the art of tattoo flourished. Kazunari was almost giddy. He finally gets to see his work, completely his own, on someone. Someone wanted him to tattoo their body. He was smiling to himself and couldn’t stop. The day finally arrived when Ichiro’s first appointment was scheduled.
“Welcome,” Kazunari politely bowed as the three men walked in. He straightened and flashed a grin. “Good to see you guys again.”
“Yo, what’s up?” Sakoda went in for a high five.
“Sakoda, behave,” Sakyo hissed as the sound of the crisp high five echoed through the room. “Miyoshi, what’s all this?”
Ichiro was already on the floor, looking through all the pictures that were spread out on the floor. Kazunari had laid out what he thought were his best and most popular works. Motifs were his forte, especially any mythical creatures or folklore characters. From the classics like sakura or dragon tattoos, to ones that took him hours to perfect like a portrait of one of the lucky gods Ebisu, he proudly showed off his work.
“This is my portfolio!” He placed his hands on his hips. “Choose anything you like...or ask for something more custom.”
“Wow…” Sakoda put his hands on his knees. “You’re amazing.”
“Can’t say I’m not impressed,” Sakyo added. “This is impressive. Let’s hope it translates well into a tattoo.”
“This…” Ichiro murmured, picking up a picture. “I want this…”
Kazunari walked over to him. Sakyo and Kazunari peeked over his shoulder. It was a simple picture of a tengu. This version of a tengu was a crow, an almost common version to get. The tengu had a beak on a human head, it’s body detailed with dashes of black and red. Tengu often symbolized to be strong warriors that enacted justice upon evildoers, but they also have negative connotations of being troublemakers. It was an odd choice, but a good one at that.
“That’s going to look so cool…” Sakoda sighed.
“Seems like you got it down. Sakoda and I are going to run some errands and then come back with food in three hours or so.”
“But I wanna stay!” Sakoda whined.
“No,” Sakyo grabbed Sakoda’s ear, pulling him out the door. “You need to be more responsible.”
The two left, their squabbling being heard down the hall. Ichiro grasped the paper close to him, his eyes travelling over the rest of the pictures. Kazunari sat, grabbing his tablet and opening a drawing program. He asked questions as Ichiro sat on the floor. He wanted to start only on the back piece for now. The first part would be the crow tengu, representing strength. The background would be a waterfall, a common motif for tattoos. Kazunari finished the design after some revisions and sizing issues. It took about thirty minutes, but Ichiro was quite thorough in his explanations. Kazunari’s heart was once again pounding as he watched Ichiro take off his shirt and lay on his stomach on the tatami mats. This was truly happening.
“Alright, stay still,” Kazunari instructed. “I’m going to place the stencil on now…”
The paper peeled off to reveal a perfect design. Ichiro trusted Kazunari with the position of the tattoo, so there was no need to check. The artist let out a sigh. It was a joyful sound, one that almost sounded like a song. When an artist was truly happy, that was when they did their best work. Kazunari knew for a fact that this would by far be the height of his whole career. He would make his master proud.
“Alright!” Kazunari had already prepared the needles and ink. “Outlining should take a while since I want to be as precise as possible. Coloring will take a while too. Sessions are usually two to three weeks apart to allow skin to heal. Is that alright?”
“Wow, what happened to that nervous but outgoing personality?” Ichiro laughed. “Of course, it’s ok.”
“Sorry,” He put on his glasses and then gloves, stretching out his hands. “I go into artist mode a lot before I actually tattoo.”
“No worries. It’s better than not talking and just doing whatever without warning.”
“You’re in good hands with me.”
“I better be, or the chairman will be hearing about this.” Ichiro’s tone darkened.
Kazunari paused putting the needles in the black ink. Ichiro glanced at his astounded face then laughed. He was only joking, of course. It was sort of an unspoken rule that speaking ill of the family’s horishi is just as bad as speaking ill of the boss. Also considering they were the ones permanently marking their bodies, it was best not to anger them. Ichiro had to tease him. It was funny seeing how tense he was during the first meeting. Seeing the stark difference, the excitement practically radiating off of Kazunari was amazing.
“I’m going to start now. Take a deep breath, and let me know if we need to take a break at any time.”
With a deep breath, Ichiro felt a small bite. Kazunari’s hands were steady and rhythmic as ink buried itself under his skin. It didn’t hurt as badly as he thought. Kazunari’s gaze was focused. Every so often he would stop to wipe off excess ink and then shift his posture for the best possible position. The quiet seemed almost unusual. But as Kazunari got into the groove of tattooing, he was ready to make conversation.
“How old are you?” He asked, his voice deeper and more calm than normal.
“Twenty-six.”
“What made you just now decide to get a tattoo?”
“I think...the closer I became with my boss and the family in general, the more I wanted to solidify my loyalty to them.”
“I know this is a personal question, but why a tengu?”
“I don’t know…” Ichiro trailed off. “After I fucked up so badly, I needed to prove myself. I became obsessed with getting stronger both physically and mentally, I just thought it would be best.”
“Everyone messes up, but as long as you learn from it, I guess there’s no harm. Right?”
“Right. Except I lost a pinky.”
Kazunari hesitated ever so slightly. Yubitsume wasn’t an unknown ritual among the yakuza. It was one of the main ways to spot a member, looking for a stub in place of a pinky. It was just odd seeing it in real life. It dawned on him that he was actually tattooing a member of the yakuza. The people that the government worked so hard to eradicate. They were involved with criminal activity. Fear started to bloom like a weed in Kazunari’s stomach.
“Was it scary? Losing a pinky?” Kazunari’s curiosity got the best of him
“Not really. I knew what I had done and I knew I needed to pay. It’s much better than being expelled from the family. And I’m grateful. After the incident I worked under Sakyo. He inspired me a lot. And now I’m working on a promotion too.”
“Oh is that what Sakoda was talking about?”
“Yeah,” Ichiro laughed. “That man has got a big mouth. I would say I don’t know how he doesn’t get in trouble, but Sakyo is constantly on his ass.”
They both let out a laugh. Kazunari felt at ease and comfortable. Normally clients would either prefer silence or just reply politely and not be invested in the conversation. As the session went on, Ichiro and Kazunari had a long discussion about the differences in their lives. Ichiro was interested in why he had become an artist. Kazunari was interested in the life of a yakuza. The deep loneliness that surrounded Kazunari’s heart started to uncoil. His shoulders were lighter. It made doing his work so much more enjoyable when the person actually liked him .
“So,” Kazunari leaned in close, his hands steady as the needles pierced the skin with precision. “Do the others have tattoos? Like Sakyo?”
“Yeah,” Ichiro’s voice was slightly strained. “Sakoda has a giant tanuki piece on his back, while the surrounding parts are- fuck !”
Ichiro let out a loud curse as the needles pierced a sensitive part of his back. Kazunari leaned back, wiping away the ink. He was only partly through the outline. Ichiro was doing well, especially since he requested tebori all the way through. It wasn’t uncommon to use a tattoo machine for the outline and then hand tattooing the colors. It wasn’t less painful. In fact, people have said tebori is more relaxing. But using a machine just made it faster and made it easier. Ichiro made a firm commitment to the whole process.
“Do you need a break?” Kazunari asked, dipping the needles into more of the black ink. “I think they might be back with food soon.”
“No, you can continue,” Ichiro’s face was slightly red, embarrassed that he let the pain show so easily. “Just.. you just hit a sensitive spot.”
“All of you is sensitive.”
Kazunari turned his head, peeking through his glasses. Sakyo, Sakoda, and a kid he didn’t recognize had come into the room. The kid was definitely on the taller side, with long black hair that was half up and half down. He had a scowl on his face, yet still bowed his head politely. Kazunari tilted his head in response. Sakoda was carrying two heavy looking bags and set them both on a table in the corner of the room. Sakyo leaned over, his eyes scanning over the design. With a satisfied hum, he moved back and sat on the floor, taking out his phone. The kid rifled through one of the bags. He took out a water bottle and grumpily made his way over to the far corner of the room, sitting with a pout. Sakoda was already somehow eating a sandwich.
“Woah, Kazunari!” His eyes were wide. “This looks so cool! I can’t believe you designed this yourself!”
“What do you mean? It’s his job,” The kid grumbled, his next words falling down a noise level. “Even if it does ruin your skin.”
“Just because you’re in a pissy mood, doesn’t mean you have to be rude to everyone.” Sakyo scolded.
“C’mon, Azami, be nice!” Sakoda took another bite of his sandwich. “You’re not usually rude to people you’ve just met like this.
“Whatever,” Azami leaned back and crossed his arms. “According to my father and Sakyo, I’m just a moody ungrateful teenager anyway.”
“Who brought the brat?” Ichiro stretched. “You’re interrupting the session.”
“Maybe if you stop now, you can save your body from looking like a dumb coloring book.”
The room went silent. Azami shivered, cold stares boring into his skin and giving him goosebumps. Kazunari slowly and gently set down the pole in his hands and then stood. He took off his glasses and set them on the table. It was almost scary how silent he was. Sakyo watched with crossed arms. This kid had made the worst possible mistake. More than one, actually. Kazunari was a joyous person. He never held a grudge against anyone. But . There was always a but. If someone had insulted the art he worked so hard to cultivate, the art his master had sacrificed a normal life for, then that wouldn’t stand.
“Sakyo, Sakoda, can you do me a favor?” Kazunari’s voice was low and calm. “Please take off your shirts and show your tattoos.”
They didn’t question the newly instated horishi. With the position came trust. Even if it was his first day, he was recommended by an honorary family member. They both undressed until they were shirtless. It was almost as if they changed into different people. Azami’s eyes widened as the two turned around. The artwork was almost alive . Sakoda’s tanuki piece was surrounded by sakura blossoms, with the Ginsenkai’s crest. The bright pinks of the petals complimented the yellows and reds of the smiling tanuki. The piece covered his whole back and dipped into his pants. The ink traveled up his shoulders, going down to where a t-shirt sleeve would be.
“Sakoda, can you tell me what your tattoo means?” Kazunari asked.
“Of course,” For once, he had a serious face as he explained. “The tanuki symbolizes joy, friendship, and my love of having fun. The sakura is a favorite among yakuza. For us, it's one of the most important reminders that we have accepted a life that is different from others and how fleeting it is. Then, I have the family symbol to represent my loyalty to the people I care for and will protect with my life.”
Azami said nothing. His facial expression was empty. Sakyo let out a strong sigh. In contrast to Sakoda’s bright colors, Sakyo’s tattoo was quite dark. It covered the same amount of skin as Sakoda, except his tattoo extended down to just above his elbows. Dark maple leaves with rich oranges and reds were spread throughout the piece. The main focus was a man with a fierce face. Dark red skin is accented with his gold and tan clothes, in his hand, makimono. A dull orange kitsune sits at his feet, her face forlorn and her dark eyes seemingly filled with tears. It almost made Azami gasp, the pure raw emotions in the piece so strong it became suffocating.
“My tattoo,” Sakyo stared straight at the boy. “Is a constant reminder of what I’ve been through and what I’ll continue to go through. The man is Emma-o, the King of Hell. Only he can see my sins and give me a just punishment. In his hands are the makimono, representing the knowledge and wisdom I need to live a full life. And...the kitsune represents how I will never be able to live a normal life. No matter how much I pretend, I am a yakuza. Even if that means I can’t get the things I want. I made this choice.”
“I...I don’t know what to say..” Azami whispered.
“How about sorry?” Ichiro scoffed.
“Let me introduce myself first,” Kazunari bowed deeply before looking at Azami. “I am Kazunari Miyoshi, an artist and the new Ginsenkai horishi.”
Azami’s eyes widened as he quickly stood, fumbling over his own feet. It filled Kazunari with a sense of confidence and pride, seeing a seemingly apathetic kid apologize like this. It wasn’t as if he wanted to humiliate him. That wasn’t the intention. He just wanted him to see why insulting a person’s work without knowing the meaning or history can be damaging. It was ignorant. He was still a kid, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be held accountable or learn from his mistakes.
“I apologize deeply, sir.”
“No need to be so formal,” The atmosphere relaxed as Kazunari’s bright smile penetrated that darkness. “Just don’t make the same mistake again, ok? It can really hurt.”
“Introduce yourself, too, brat.” Sakyo said as he put back on his clothes.
“Right..Uhhh,” He bowed once again. “I’m Azami Izumida, son of the chairman.”
Kazunari let out a hearty laugh. He should be surprised, but at this point there was nothing that could phase him anymore. At least, not now. He pat Azami’s head then pointed for Ichiro to lay back down. Ichiro griped about how he made the session ten times worse and now he was sure that his skin got even more sensitive because of the cold air.
“Do you not want to take a break?” Azami asked, his voice sheepish.
“I already did, thanks to you,” Ichiro winced as Kazunari went straight back to work. “It’s better to endure the pain until the end. I need to be strong.”
“Mine didn’t hurt at all! Your master did a real good job, Kazu!” Sakoda praised.
“Your work is kind of reminiscent of his,” Sakyo mentioned. “But there’s something about your work that’s...unique.”
“Great praise, shitty old man. Can definitely feel the love.” Azami rolled his eyes.
“Shut up.”
“Why is the son of the chairman here anyway?” Kazunari asked. “If you don’t mind, of course.”
“Because my dad is being an ass and won’t let me follow my dream of...being a makeup artist.” Azami’s voice was angry, but the pain of not getting support from his father peeked through.
“I see..” Kazunari murmured. He wiped away more ink and then smiled at the boy. “Well I support you a hundred percent! If you ever need a place to practice, this place is always open. I’m sure Master won’t mind. Or snitch.”
Sakyo’s shoulders finally relaxed. He sat back with a satisfied smile. He was tense about immediately letting a new horishi into the family. The one they had was good and more importantly trusted. Seeing this loud and nervous college student made Sakyo more than wary. But after seeing how he treated Azami, he knew he had nothing to worry about. Kazunari himself was relaxed. It was an odd job, sure. But it was sacred. It was almost like a secret. And it was his. A final gift from mentor to mentee. Not only did he have people to appreciate his work, but he also had people he might even call his friends. It was more than he could ask for. This wasn’t what he intended. It never was. But as long as he was happy, he would follow his passion for art wherever it took him.
This was something that the Master had never taught him, not directly. There were only some lessons that could only be learned with experience. Being a tattoo artist, people entrusted you with the most important things. Even if they weren’t important to the artist, they were to the client. Honoring that secret, keeping it hidden was only a small part of the job. Kazunari knew Sakyo was sugarcoating it when he said the yakuza weren’t the same. Some traditions never changed. Just like horishi will always be here, so will the secrets they keep. Kazunari was willing to take on the job. No matter what it took.