Work Text:
The reflection staring back at Ryuji in the tattoo parlor’s window captured everything about him except for the nervous energy buzzing beneath his skin. He tilted his head to the side, watched as his neon yellow liberty spikes and piercings followed the movement, his septum ring swinging in the air. His battle jacket was badly in need of repair, paint peeling off and chunks of spikes missing after he’d gone too hard in the mosh pit a couple weeks back at Makoto’s basement show. At least his patch pants were holding fast - he wasn’t in the mood for his thighs giving out again.
All things considered, he shouldn’t be worried about standing out as soon as he entered the door. That was the whole point behind his look to begin with. But the fact that his punk ass had lived to his mid-20s without getting any tattoos was an unforgivable, embarrassing sin.
He double-checked the torn corner of paper in his hand, Ann’s messy pink writing smeared from when she’d handed it to him yesterday. The eccentric tattoo artist she’d hyped up was located in a forgotten corner of town. Shoved between a night cafe and a closed bookshop, Ryuji had nearly walked past the small parlor whilst glaring at his phone’s map for buffering now of all times, when he was about to make a life-altering decision.
Luckily, the small hand-drawn sign taped up against the window advertising Kitsune Art let Ryuji know he’d found the right place. The logo was a fox curled around a katana drawn in traditional Japanese style. It was a refreshing change compared to the so-called bad-ass look most parlors around Tokyo opted for.
The alarm he’d set for the appointment went off, phone buzzing in Ryuji’s hand. There was no more time for stalling - it was now or never. With one last deep breath, he turned away from his reflection and opened the door.
A small bell jingled to announce his arrival, the tinny sound echoing around the small reception area at the front of the shop. Flash sheets covered every inch of the walls around him, a wide variety of styles on display ranging from realism to more abstract pieces. All were signed in the bottom left corner with navy ink denoting the name of Kitagawa Yusuke.
“I’ll see you in a moment,” a voice called from the back. “If my muse runs away, I fear she’ll never return to me. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
Despite its slightly monotone cadence, Ryuji found nothing but soothing comfort in the deep rumble of its owner’s words. It was a sharp contrast to the formal writing style he’d encountered when submitting his request through text several weeks prior.
Every bit of nervous energy was settling in his body at the prospect of hearing more of it soon.
Ryuji sat on the aging lover’s seat parked beneath the window, its burgundy fabric worn thin along the edges. The lack of sleep from the night before hummed around his eyes at the desire to curl up on his newfound perch and take a nap. He’d stared at the rug beneath his feet instead, two blue-yellow swallows entwined around each other.
“Sakamoto?” Ryuji’s breath was stolen away as he looked up to find the most beautiful man he’d ever seen staring at him. A black tank top cut open along the sides revealed the side of a large rib tattoo that appeared to be a mass of vines and flower petals. Ripped jeans revealed a fox climbing up his right thigh, a traditional kitsune mask over his left knee. His face was framed by a blue mullet that curled slightly inward as if to direct attention to the snake bite piercings beneath his lip.
Hiding the blush that rose to his cheeks by tilting his head to the side and fiddling with his industrial piercing, Ryuji wondered if there was a polite way to ask a complete stranger to marry you on the spot.
“Please, call me Ryuji,” he said instead. Despite what his friends might believe, he wasn’t a complete idiot. “I don’t do any of that formal shit.”
“Very well,” his artist nodded. “Feel free to refer to me as Yusuke then. I want my clients to feel at home within my studio.”
“Alright, well, thanks for taking me on, dude. Ann showed me the back piece you did for her a couple months back and I fell in love with your work.”
Love was an understatement. The red panther draped across Ann’s back, paws wrapped around her shoulders and tail curling around her waist, snarled at its viewers with such ferocity that one might believe it would come alive and jump out of her skin. Its lines had been impossibly clean, colors blended to perfection. Ryuji had never seen a tattoo capture emotion so well, its entirety a piece of art no one could ever attempt to replicate.
“Ah, yes. I’m particularly proud of that piece. I couldn’t turn down the idea the moment Ann came to me on recommendation from Hifumi.” A wistful smile broke out on Yusuke’s face. “Such a gorgeous canvas only deserved the best of me.”
Ryuji ate the wave of disappointment that rose in his chest before it could drown him. Of course the hot tattoo artist was straight. He cursed Ann for the wink she’d sent his way when he’d spent a whole afternoon looking through Yusuke’s portfolio. She’d be getting a strongly pieced-together meme rant about it later.
“Now,” Yusuke said, settling beside Ryuji on the love seat. “Does this capture your vision? Please, speak up if any of it is unsatisfactory. I want to ensure you’re happy with my art before we get started.”
He passed a sketchbook into Ryuji’s hand, held open on a page covered in blue and yellow pastels, abstract geometry creating the approximation of a raincloud showering the air beneath it with rain and flashes of lightning. It was tumultuous yet transcendent in its rough beauty, a perfect storm of anger creating new vicious life from its remains.
How Yusuke had crafted the image from the vague description Ryuji had sent his way, he had no idea. Especially when his text had totaled to exactly:
idk, man, something with lightning. i want it to branch out over my knee, cover some scar tissue. i’m sure you’ll come up with something sick as hell.
Surely he was some yokai hiding in human form. There was no way someone as talented as Yusuke actually existed, let alone one who would put up with a stitched-together punk like Ryuji.
Ryuji shook himself out of his slack-jawed awe before Yusuke could interpret his silence as disapproval. “It’s perfect.”
“I’m pleased you’re happy with it,” Yusuke’s smile was bright enough to cure the world of all its ailments.”If I recall correctly, you said this is your first tattoo?”
“Yeah, it is,” Ryuji gestured to his whole being. “Hard as that might be to believe.”
“Not at all, I’ve worked with many clients who one might never believe the type to get tattooed. The opposite is just as true. Now - did you bring something to change into?”
Every thought fizzled out of Ryuji’s brain. “No?”
“Would you be comfortable dressing down to your underwear then? I have spare towels available if you’d like to cover up on the chair.”
“No, that’s uh,” Ryuji’s mouth was dry. “I’m fine to sit in my boxers.”
“Splendid. Follow me back and we’ll get started.”
Hiding his shaking hands in his pockets, Ryuji trailed behind Yusuke as they walked through a curtain to the main space of the parlor, a large tattoo bed laying flat with clean paper covering its surface in the center. A stool sat beside it as well as a tray containing assorted equipment and aftercare supplies. What caught his eye most were the caps full of ink, their bright colors intoxicating.
Soon, they’d lie beneath his skin. No one would be able to rob him of their image. Fierce euphoria swelled in Ryuji’s heart at the thought. His body was his alone to shape as he designed.
Never again would a hand be laid on it, cause him harm, without his permission.
“I’ll prepare the stencil while you ready yourself,” Yusuke said before disappearing into a small alcove off the main space. “Please do not lie down yet - I need to lay the design on you while you’re standing.”
Ryuji removed his pants, crumbling them in a ball. They ended up on the floor under the table since he had no bag to place them within. His choice of plain black boxers seemed too regular for the occasion on display. He fought the urge to tug at them while waiting for Yusuke to return.
It wasn’t long before he emerged, stencil in hand. The indigo lines seemed stark against the transfer paper. Even reversed, the art was everything he’d longed for.
“I recall you mentioning a desire for the design to cover your whole knee,” Yusuke gestured toward Ryuji’s right knee and the web of scars stretching out across its surface. “Am I correct in assuming that is the right one?”
“Yup,” Ryuji was stunned at the way Yusuke didn’t linger on his scars, as if considering them as natural as the flesh surrounding them. “The uh, scars won’t be a problem, right?”
“No,” Yusuke said, kneeling beside Ryuji. “At most, the pain will be worse when I work over them. Relax your leg for me.”
Obeying, Ryuji watched Yusuke sanitize the area before smoothing the stencil out over his knee. The motions were practiced and gentle. He leaned into the touch, sad when the paper was peeled off to reveal the lines left behind.
“Look in the mirror for me,” Yusuke stood, preparing his station. “If you don’t desire for the placement to be moved, lay down on your back for me.”
A large mirror rested against the wall. The tip of Ryuji’s hair stood higher than its tallest edge. Twisting his leg in the reflection, he nodded once. “I’m ready to rock and roll, dude.”
Yusuke hid a laugh behind his hand. “Wherever did you learn an expression like that?”
“I dunno,” Ryuji hopped onto the table, feeling the paper crinkle beneath him. He eased himself onto his back and tilted his head onto its side to prevent ruining his hair. “The internet, probably.”
“I see.” Sarcasm hid under the mirth in Yusuke’s tone. Ryuji watched his tongue clip the inside of his snakebites and wished it was his own. “Would you like a test stroke without ink to prepare for what the process will feel like?”
“Nah, just dive in.”
“Alright,” Yusuke said, tattoo machine humming to life in his hands. Ryuji left his hand on his calf, fingers spreading a patch of skin taught just above his knee. “Speak up if you require a break.”
The initial stroke ached, like a quick drag of a knife across his skin. Everyone who said tattoos felt like a cat scratch was a liar that Ryuji wanted drawn and quartered. Each line that followed fell into a rhythm, some as harsh as the first, others quick and near painless. It was an easy rhythm to fall into, the ebb and flow of Yusuke working black ink into his skin a comfortable tide to fall into.
“How are you doing, Ryuji?” Yusuke asked, the familiar hum of the gun stopping as he swapped out the needle. “Are you alright to go on?”
“I’m good, man,” Ryuji blinked a couple dark spots out of the edge of his vision. Maybe downing nothing but an energy drink before his appointment had been a bad idea. “Keep going.”
Yusuke hummed, loading up the needle with grey. “The linework is complete. I’ll be working on the colors now.”
Ryuji nodded, staring at a scuff mark on the floor as Yusuke began anew. The sensation was lighter than before. Moreso than pain, he felt the vibrations of the needle against his skin as the color was packed under the surface of his skin. It was almost as though he was sitting on one of the massage chairs he liked to hog in his physical therapist’s office.
“You’re by no means required to answer,” Yusuke said, head low as he swapped grey for blue. “But I’m quite curious as to what sort of injury resulted in these scars.”
It wasn’t exactly a secret, the source of his pain. Years of therapy and working through his issues in both healthy and decidedly unhealthy ways had Ryuji in a spot where dredging up the past did little more than cause his chest to ache. He didn’t blame Yusuke for asking - it was one of those things people always longed to know about him, why the track star fell from fame.
“I don’t mind,” he said, biting his lower lip. “Back in high school, I used to run track. Had a whole career planned in it and everything. An asshole of a power hungry coach had too much of me one day and decided to get the only person willing to stand up to him out of his way.”
The air was quiet between them, machine silent as Yusuke sat back with his foot off the pedal. He stared Ryuji in the eyes with a look that could only be described as understanding.
“I experienced something similar. A…mentor of mine did not react well to my growth in art exceeding his. When I finally refused to allow him to pass off my work as his own, he tried to prevent me from ever creating again.” Yusuke removed one of his gloves, the faintest hints of scar tissue glimmering in the air under his hand tattoos denoting a starry sky.
Ryuji raised his hand up in a fist. Yusuke’s brow furrowed in confusion before he mimicked the action, dropping his hand after Ryuji lightly bumped it.
“Here’s to showing shitty people they couldn’t stop us,” Ryuji said, grinning.
“I quite agree,” Yusuke returned his smile. He sanitized his hands before gloving up once more, picking up where he left off with a bright yellow. “Did you become an athlete in the end?”
The laugh that escaped Ryuji rattled him so hard that Yusuke had to pull back. “No, I play the bass in a punk band and jump off-stage every other show.”
“An admirable career, surely.” Yusuke swapped to blue, amusement clouding his tone.
“Oh shut up, as if the tattoo artist has room to talk.”
“I suppose we’re a match in that way.”
Ryuji’s heart fluttered as Yusuke pulled back, his blurring vision surely a sign of his newfound heartache over an unattainable date and not a warning signal. “I guess so.”
“It’s time for the highlights,” Yusuke said. “Are you ready?”
Ryuji hummed an affirmative and lost himself in the feeling of the final touches. The spot work in the already raw wound felt like sandpaper against his skin. A thought toward the numerous white highlights along Ann’s back had his already maxed-out respect for her increasingly tenfold, alongside a reminder to never piss her off again.
He’d nearly fallen asleep by the time Yusuke finished, leaning back to admire his art with a look of pure satisfaction on his face.
“You sat extraordinarily well for your first piece,” he said, wiping down Ryuji’s tattoo before placing a thin plastic film over the piece. “Feel free to stand and get dressed as soon as you’re ready.”
The high of the complement had Ryuji lifting him off the table without thinking, the warning signs coming to a head as his thoughts grew faint. His skull throbbed as his vision went black. All he had time to do before fainting was breathe out a small fuck, one arm clenched around his stomach as nausea churned in his throat.
~
He came to, not on the ground eating shit with his limbs splayed out like a crime scene, but wrapped up in strong arms that felt as though they could protect him from anything. Ryuji blinked his eyes open to find Yusuke looking down at him in concern.
“You should have told me you were feeling unwell,” Yusuke said, leading him to the loveseat at the front of the shop. “If I hadn’t caught you in time, you could’ve been seriously injured.”
The only brain cell he had left prevented Ryuji from asking Yusuke if he could hold him forever. He allowed himself to be deposited on the couch, Yusuke’s hands on his shoulders as he checked Ryuji over for damage.
It was then that Ryuji remembered he was wearing nothing but boxers on his bottom half. He couldn’t stop the blush from rising to his cheeks, bright red and unforgiving.
“Tell me, did you eat before your appointment today?”
“Does caffeine count?”
Yusuke blinked at him, before letting out a dramatic sigh. “No, it does not. Wait one moment.”
Ryuji befriended the stars in his eyes while waiting for Yusuke to return, well-acquainted with their constellations by the time he emerged with a bottle of juice and a package of nuts.
“Partake in these before leaving,” Yusuke said, passing the items into his items. “The thought of you not making it home leaves me unwell.”
“Thanks, man,” Ryuji said before inhaling the snacks. He tasted nothing but kindness in the process. It was then that he noticed Yusuke had retrieved his pants as well.
Standing brought minimal dizziness as he slipped back into them. He met Yusuke’s gaze as he fastened his belt, the worn leather settling against his skin. The sight lingered past his actions.
“Alright, uh,” Ryuji tore his eyes away, pulling his wallet out of his jacket. “How much do I owe you?”
“I believe ¥100,000 would suffice.” Yusuke accepted a crumpled wad of bills from Ryuji, thumbed through the amount with a nod. “I greatly appreciate the tip.”
“Of course. I can’t thank you enough for this, Yusuke.”
“It’s my pleasure, truly.”
Ryuji fiddled with a loose embroidery thread off his jacket, the bright blue stark against his flushed skin. He tightened it around his finger until the tip turned purple. “Do you happen to have an opening anytime soon?”
“Fitting you in will be no problem,” Yusuke said. “Simply contact me as soon as you know what you next wish to bring to life.”
“Alright,” Ryuji grinned. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“As am I.”
One foot out the door, ready to return home and contemplate the way the universe had turned his life on its head for the rest of the day, Ryuji felt Yusuke’s hand on his shoulder. He turned, accepting a slip of paper printed on blue-tinted parchment.
“I nearly forgot to give you the aftercare instructions,” Yusuke hid his eyes behind his hand. “Forgive me, and please remain in touch.”
Ryuji was down the street before he opened the paper, fingers trembling. He nearly dropped it at the sight of a cell number beside a request to call him for more than just art. Yusuke’s writing was sloppy and slanted, near unreadable.
A perfect copy of Ryuji’s own.
For once, everything in his life was looking up. The healing rainstorm was already bringing fresh blessings into his life, blooming into something more than he ever could have dreamed of.
He was going to owe Ann weekly trips to the pop-up food stalls in Shibuya until the end of time, even if it bankrupted him.