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Yunosono Hot Springs is an oasis in the concrete jungle of Kamurocho. Steaming mineral baths, beautiful women, and a decent table tennis setup was more than anyone in the city deserved. Akiyama only wished they sold eggs too. Though, if management was just going to buy them from M Store in the first place, maybe she should sneak some in on her own.
Fortunately, she and Arai manage to be the only ones in the bathhouse (fingers crossed it remains this way). The clerk hardly pays them any mind while taking their money, knowing too well that it was better to be ignorant of their clientele at this time of night. Making their way to shed their clothes and prepare to shower, out of sight from the counter, they both enter the same changing room.
This is only possible because, as Akiyama discovered very recently, Arai is actually a woman.
Akiyama surreptitiously looks over at Arai as they undress. Even when she agreed to dress down to accompany Akiyama, baseball cap and shades included, she still had a neat blazer and collared shirt folded in the basket. She carefully removes her binding, placing it underneath the other layers, though truthfully her chest’s not much bigger than before. Not that the size is an issue to Akiyama either way. Arai's eyes flit towards Akiyama first, then the rest of her head turns.
"Something wrong, Akiyama-san?"
"Nope, just making sure it's the right area where we undress," Akiyama jokes. Arai doesn’t appear to find it as funny.
"I've never been here before, so it'd be you teaching me, wouldn't it?"
“We strip. We clean up. We soak. I destroy you in table tennis. Pretty straightforward, Arai-san!” At this, Arai does wryly smirk.
“Those are bold words when you’ve never experienced my forehand serve.” There’s a lot of ways Akiyama hasn’t experienced Arai’s hands. She realizes she’s still unbuttoning her own shirt while Arai, by now fully nude, is already leaning down to retrieve her hand towel on top of their yukata set (fortunately placed in the changing rooms rather than given at the counter). Akiyama hurriedly shucks off her clothes to catch up, tearing down her slacks and practically ripping her bra over her head. She grabs her towel and steps a little too fast, slipping on the wet tile.
“Whoa-!”
A hand immediately latches onto Akiyama’s upper arm, another hand on her bare lower back, and Arai is right in front of her, almost bending her low like tango.
“Be careful!” Arai’s voice is as harsh as her grip, eyes narrowed in concern. Akiyama can only squeak in response.
“Sorry!” Sighing, Arai’s arms eventually relax (only a bit, as she’s still holding Akiyama) and she raises the other woman slowly. Situated, they finally separate, the warmth of Arai’s fingers lingering on Akiyama’s skin. Akiyama clutches her towel, in need of occupying her hands. Rather than aiming her eyes downwards, she keeps her gaze focused on Arai’s face and asks-
“Want me to wash you up as a reward?”
It really was a joke, but Akiyama didn’t think Arai would take her up on it.
The only noises right now are the splash of water in the bath behind them and the shifting of their bodies at the shower corner. The steady rhythm helps soothe Akiyama's heartbeat. But, kneeling behind a naked and compliant Arai sitting on a stool still keeps her flustered. Where to start…Arai’s head, of course. She doesn’t require too much shampoo, considering how short her hair is, but Akiyama is too used to washing her own and squirts out a little too much. Unsure whether to waste it in front of Arai, she practically slaps it into her scalp.
“Do you need a shampoo cap?” Akiyama suddenly asks as she’s already started.
“I’ll be fine.” A simple reply.
Inhaling through her nose deeply, Akiyama wills herself to scrape as gently and as thoroughly as possible. It's dark and silky, like a perfect housewife's, though Arai is far from that image. Akiyama imagines her cooking miso soup with a soft apron anyway, gently shaking Akiyama up from slumber as the smell wouldn't reach under the gossip magazine covering her face. She would smile even as she lifts up the dirty rag to find Akiyama’s face messy with slumber drool, and then plant a kiss on her lips-
“It’s unusual for you to be this quiet.”
Arai brings her back to reality. It’s true; even if she wasn’t embarrassed from almost dying in an onsen, Akiyama’s struggling to find an appropriate point of conversation in the bath, which is rare. But, so is washing up Arai…Stroking downwards, she picks the easiest topic.
"Has your hair ever been long?"
"Once, when I was a child. I hated it." Arai’s sudden chuckle makes Akiyama jolt. She’s always thought Arai’s deep voice was sensual, but lately...It's also rare for her to laugh. Not to mention, Akiyama didn’t expect an answer beyond “No.” She presses on, massaging in the meantime.
“Oh really? Why so?”
"It was too much effort to style, and it felt bothersome no matter how I tied it up. Of course, my parents thought it looked nice, so they wouldn’t shorten it,” Arai quietly huffs. “I’d resort to things like getting gum stuck in it and claim it was done by my classmates to force my parents to chop it off, piece by piece. When I couldn’t buy gum anymore, I just started cutting it myself whenever I had the chance."
"I can't imagine that at all!" Now Akiyama’s the one laughing behind her. “Well, the cutting part, I can, actually. But not the gum.”
Arai briefly looks over her shoulder to peer at Akiyama, who immediately flushes red. She can play it off from the heat of the steam, she excuses. Then, Arai gives a tiny smile in return.
“I suppose it does seem out-of-character. I was young, and it felt like the only way to get what I wanted."
“Confirms you were born human like the rest of us," Akiyama hums, now stroking more insistently.
“...Do I seem that unnatural to you now?” The pause makes Akiyama freeze. A mistake to say?
“No! Just- how do I put this?” She looks up at the pseudo-bamboo walls as if they’ll provide her with any support. Her hands are now only rubbing circles in Arai’s scalp rather than any actual cleaning. “You’re very independent. You have clear plans and goals, and work hard to achieve them. You’re almost a little too perfect that way,” Akiyama slips out. “But learning even you had something to struggle about, it’s kind of inspiring in its own way. And I like learning more about you either way.” She leans over, but not far enough to see Arai’s expression “Was that a little too mean?” She hopes not.
Arai is silent, but eventually - “No, not at all. Thank you for your kind words.”
“No problem at all,” Akiyama quickly smooths over, now slightly embarrassed.
“And you, you’ve always kept that style?” Arai’s pivoted back to hair talk and it takes a moment for Akiyama to catch up.
“Hmm, I've had it longer, but it had to be in a bun anyway, or very tidy at the least. You know how banks are.” She realizes Arai's never seen her put-together, professional look, just downtrodden on Park Boulevard or tired as she is now. She'd show her some old photos later for a laugh, except...the only one she really has left is the snapshot with her ex fiancé. Arai doesn't need to see that (as if Arai would be jealous, or even care.)
"I see.” Arai tilts her head up, but only a few degrees so as not to interfere with Akiyama’s washing. She must be imagining it. “Well, your hair is certainly stylish now too." Akiyama pats her head a little too hard.
“Arai-san~ No need for flattery~"
"It may not be as high maintenance as your hostesses, but there's nothing wrong with it," Arai pushes back. Akiyama can feel a dopey smile on her face despite herself.
"Thank you, thank youuuu. Want me to style your hair next?"
“Ah, well...Maybe someday."
She’ll keep Arai to that, even if she has no idea what she’s doing herself. Humming a bit now, Akiyama reaches for the showerhead in preparation to rinse.
“Make sure to shut your eyes now,” Akiyama warns. After waiting a few seconds to no reply, she assumes Arai immediately obeyed without question and switches on the water again. The pressure is kept low to limit overspraying, and Akiyama wants to give her fingers time to explore Arai’s head all over again. As she cleans, she concentrates on the soap trails running down the naked back before her. The skin's paler than the rest of Arai from the neck down, from all the suits, no doubt.
"You don't have a design yet?" One hand leaves Arai’s hair to make its way down smooth, supple skin. Arai's back muscles tense underneath and Akiyama immediately lifts her hand up, despite the desire to continue.
"...It's not required these days," Arai answers.
“But are you thinking about it? To match with the higher-ups.” Right after asking, Akiyama then realizes the obvious problems.
“I’ve considered it in due time, but,” Arai says slowly. “I’m not sure what it should be, unless you have any suggestions. Akiyama peeks her face over Arai’s shoulder.
“You’d tattoo something I recommend? You’re giving me so much power.”
“Well, I never said I absolutely would…” Akiyama laughs louder than Arai and pauses to consider. She’s not very informed on tattoos, but of course, there was one she’d always remember.
“Another dragon, maybe.”
"...I'm not entirely sure I could live up to something like that."
"Said who?" The immediate response slightly frustrates Akiyama. “It’s not like only one person’s allowed a dragon in the yakuza.”
"It's a big act to follow up in the Tojo Clan, that's all."
“It's not impossible if it's you," Akiyama insists. "When they understand how capable you already are, they’ll have to accept you, won’t they?"
"..."
"And then once they acknowledge your accomplishments-"
“I set out to do my work properly, but not for any sort of fame or recognition," Arai gently rebukes. "For instance, how else could we bathe together like this, if everyone knew my face?” Oh. Well. Akiyama mulls it over. A hand sneaks up and gently wraps a few fingers around Akiyama's wrist.
“Akiyama-san, you really do put so much faith in me." Akiyama's eyes lower at the gesture and soft tone. Her reply mirrors Arai's volume, barely audible.
"Is that a crime?"
"No. It's a gift. Regardless of how I choose to work, thank you."
The water splashes behind them as they sit in silence.
“How about a tanuki?” Akiyama suddenly suggests.
“A tanuki-” Arai’s voice sounds choked and her fingers withdraw back to her lap. She wants to hear Akiyama’s reasoning.
“Sneaky. Good at disguises. And maybe a little bit cute.” Akiyama finishes with a wink, even when Arai can’t see her at all. Her lips fall forward and press against the nape of Arai's neck, the stray damp strands tickling her nose…is what Akiyama would like to do. But even she wouldn’t dare now. “Don’t think too many yakuza are running around with one of those, do you?”
“No, I don’t imagine so,” Arai answers skeptically.
“There you go then!” Akiyama then clasps Arai’s shoulder. “And all done now, too!”
“Were you only taking care of my hair and back, Akiyama-san?”
“Oh?” Akiyama now freezes with a smile. Was she meant to wash more of Arai’s body? Her arms? Her legs?...Her chest?
“You’re the one who offered,” Arai reminds her. “I can finish everything else by myself, of course, but I wasn’t sure how far you wanted to go. Besides,” She gestures to the stool next to her. “You’ll need to wash up before dipping in as well.” Arai meets her gaze with a small smile. “Please leave it to me in just a moment.”
Akiyama never realized how sensitive her scalp was until that very night. Or, perhaps, Arai simply possessed skill within her hands beyond playing table tennis.