Work Text:
“Hold still.”
(Y/N) was trying to, but the paint against their back was colder than anticipated. Each brush stroke Ryoshu placed upon their bare skin sent a small shock throughout (Y/N)’s body. The artist would give a small sigh, removing the brush once more. “It’s going to look like I did this during an earthquake or something if you keep this up.”
“I didn’t expect your paints to feel so… cold.”
Ryoshu scoffed. “I’d much rather not burn you. In time, you’ll adjust to the temperature. I’m merely just placing the base color.”
The strokes continued, the same as before. In some places… the brush even tickled slightly, but (Y/N) tried to remain as still as possible.
It was their idea to offer the suggestion to the chainsmoker, who had been plagued with a terrible art block and was seeking other outlets for art that wouldn’t involve their co-workers being a part of the act. (Y/N) had approached and offered a silly idea they saw floating around: the act of painting on one’s back.
To their surprise, Ryoshu actually agreed and the two arranged a time in which it could be done with adequate time set aside. For Ryoshu, however, she asked that she’d be allowed to paint whatever she wanted on (Y/N)’s back. Promises were made that it wouldn’t be obscene and that the paint would be washable. Though, nothing was said about how freezing the paints would be…
“...Can I get a hint?”
“A hint?”
“Of what you’re painting.”
Ryoshu went silent for a moment, taking a drag of her cigarette. “...SANTS.”
Ah, another one of her acronyms. (Y/N) had grown used to such things. Taking a stab at what it meant, (Y/N) hummed before speaking.
“Surprises are not to show?”
Ryoshu gave an impressed nod. “I’ll take a photo of it, so don’t worry. Besides, you can keep yourself busy by guessing what it is because of the colors I have set out. Purposely set them there so you can run fantastical images in your head of what might be upon your skin.”
She was right- the paint jars were right by (Y/N)’s head. They saw an odd array of hues- primarily of green and pink. Maybe some brown and white… Yellow too.
“You know I ain’t saying anything.” Ryoshu sighed, continuing to paint. “But go ahead, I wonder if you can tell not only by the colors… But the direction of which this brush of mine is going.”
Up, down.
Left, right.
Curving features. (Y/N) couldn’t even begin to guess what the colors were meant to be of. A prismatic jewel? Some sort of forest? It became a silent game as they knew Ryoshu would be true to their word.
Too many images ran through (Y/N)’s mind of what could’ve been to the point it felt as if they were mentally sitting in a theater going through not only what could be painted upon their back, but the kinds of things Ryoshu liked to paint. The imagery itself always stopped at the fact pink was a color she was using- A color made for femininity and love quite typically.
When they grew tired of such internal guessing, (Y/N) soon decided to close their eyes.
“...Are you falling asleep already? You were flinching with each frigid stroke of mine minutes ago.”
“Ah- I thought it’d be rude to talk while you’re focused.”
There was a small chuckle from Ryoshu. “Your words are always welcomed. They bring a melody to the room.”
She always was like that-
Even if her words could be a bit cryptic and sometimes scary… Ryoshu always seemed to become a different person around (Y/N), as if they understood her deeply.
“As long as you do not try to pry into the secret once more.”
Damn.
“...Well, I’ll just avoid that subject, then.” (Y/N) knew their pout went unnoticed. “But… What kind of paints are you using?”
“Tempera paint. It’s a little bit low quality compared to what I typically use, but… Perhaps to an artist who knows what they’re doing, no paint is too terrible of a quality.”
(Y/N) gave a small laugh. “Even if it’s all dried up?”
“Anything can be used for paint if you try hard enough.” Ryoshu nodded. “This is a joke, I know, but truly- anything can be used for art. It all depends on the person.”
“...Do you consider yourself art?”
“...I am not composed of paint, (Y/N).”
“Well, no-” (Y/N) gave another chuckle. “I mostly meant your actions. The way I’ve seen you swing your blade reminds me of a paintbrush, in a way. One of those oversized ones.”
“...Hmmph.” There was a slight bit of amusement and proudness in Ryoshu’s tone. “So you see from the same lens I do when my weapon is in my hands. I can teach you how to paint your foes in a similar fashion, (Y/N).”
“Maybe another time- I feel like I’ve dragged you into enough shenanigans.” (Y/N) meekly said. “I appreciate the offer, though.”
It wasn’t something Ryoshu offered anyone- especially not when many people expressed distaste and even fear at her art. Even those who she fought alongside.
“What paint do you normally use, then?” (Y/N) asked, curious.
“I do not believe there is anything out there I haven’t used as paint. People, inks…” She’d muse on the other options available. “And if there isn’t anything I haven’t touched, then I only can imagine what I may be capable of if I am able to grasp hold of it.”
…It was a bit scary hearing that, but… (Y/N) could somewhat understand. They enjoyed her pieces very much. Even if (Y/N) couldn’t understand what they meant or the reason Ryoshu painted them- they knew it meant at least something to her.
“...Alright, I’m done.”
“Already?”
“Do you take me as a fool?” Ryoshu scoffed. She stood up, taking a look at her handiwork. “EIS.”
Experience improves speed.
Not that (Y/N) was complaining. They had grown used to the cold paint, but worried what would’ve happened if it became a larger scale painting that would’ve otherwise prevented them from eating or sleeping until Ryoshu was finished.
“...So- What did you paint?”
“If you want me to take a photo of it, just keep lying there. I’ll show it in just a moment.”
Curious to see the results, (Y/N) did as they were told and waited for Ryoshu to grab hold of her phone camera and snapped a quick picture with a click.
“...Maybe it’s best simply to leave it in my mind.”
“Hey-”
“I simply painted my feelings, let’s leave it at that. We never promised that I’d show you the finished piece, hmm?”
“...Damn you.”
Oblivious to (Y/N)-
There was a field of Japanese primrose flowers on their back.