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“The nerve of that man!” Tomoari shouted as they entered their apartment, likely concerning all their neighbors with the noise. They kicked off their high-heeled boots, the sound of the shoes hitting the genkan sending a clangor throughout the room. “No one has the right to speak to you like that, you hear me? No one.”
Inu-oh sighed as he followed his partner through the door, petting their dogs who had swarmed around his feet. For whatever reason, he wasn't feeling that same kind of righteous anger on his own behalf. Sure, that director was rude and pushy, but he didn’t deserve half of what Tomoari had threatened to do to him.
“He’s lucky I don’t have a spare cane, otherwise I’d have beat him to death with it!” Tomoari shouted from the bathroom, the third time they had said this. The second time being on the train home, the first being to the director’s face.
It had been their first photoshoot with a major publication, ever. Every bit of official imagery they had before was limited to what they submitted to local zines, and was often done by some of Tomoari’s art school friends from their former university who were willing to take photos and shoot amateur music videos at a reasonable price.
Their new record label however wanted them to go bigger, to be more professional, which Inu-oh was quite open to since this would allow for a bigger budget. They were booked for a photoshoot with a well known director with a pretty decent production value. Everything was lining up for something great.
Tomoari seemed to be having a great time. While originally apprehensive about the idea of a professional shoot, not wanting to give up much creative control, they adapted surprisingly quickly despite their usual stubbornness. The wardrobe crew seemed to love everything about them, fawning over their body, their hair, their face, and just about everything else they had to offer. It was as if they had been a model their entire life. Every time they’d step out of their fitting room in a new outfit and new makeup Inu-oh’s breath would be taken away.
Despite this sight blessing his eyes, and the excitement he usually felt at new opportunities and meeting new people, Inu-oh kept feeling uncomfortable. He felt awkward being stared at and judged for his body and his clothes without having the opportunity to show off what actually mattered about himself. The director didn’t know how to incorporate his strength or flexibility, instead instructing him to do more basic, standard poses.
Inu-oh scratched at his face under his mask, a habit he always had whenever he was bored or nervous. The mask itself was itchy and uncomfortable, and nothing like what he normally wore during shows. It seemed as though the designers had found that out they base aspects of their performances off of old noh traditions, but didn’t know how to emulate that. The mask was made of cheap-feeling plastic and looked more like a Halloween costume mask compared to the lacquered, wood-carved replications he usually used. Not to mention he could barely see out of it—its eye holes having been made for someone with a more conventional face. He mentioned none of this to anyone though, especially not Tomoari. Not after it looked like they were having such a good time.
“Hey! Right there!” The director had shouted, pointing at Inu-oh, “Can I see more of that?”
Inu-oh was confused. “More of what?”
“That thing you were doing with your fingers under the mask. Can you lift it up a bit? Show off a little bit of a smile,” the director stated, as if it was the best idea in the world.
Inu-oh turned towards Tomoari, wondering if they would say something. Even though Inu-oh was always the more extroverted one, Tomoari was always more confrontational. However, Tomoari was busy talking to someone else.
“I can’t do that,” Inu-oh stated plainly.
“Yes, I-“ the director stopped himself, stepping towards him.
“I know you have your, um, condition. But you can tell me, how bad is it? Like, where is most of it concentrated?” The director whispered, “We can get makeup or photo editing to get rid of a lot of things, you know? You don’t have to worry about anything, we’re all here for you.”
Inu-oh didn’t know what to say.
“I-“ he paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “I don’t have to tell you any of that. It says in our contract that I do not need to show my face to anyone.”
“It's only going to be a few photos. We can shoot it in a closed room if it makes you happy.”
“If it’s just a few photos, we can go without them. We’ve already taken dozens.” Inu-oh said firmly, though his voice wavered slightly.
“Yes, but think about the publicity this would cause! Your buddy there already sings songs about how you look to drum up attention, how is this any different?”
Inu-oh realized then that no matter what he was going to say, the director was just going to make excuses. The man was determined to get this shot. Inu-oh shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to stop them from shaking.
“We haven’t been on break in a while,” Inu-oh said, “can I have some time to think about it?”
The director agreed, sending everyone out for lunch. Inu-oh snuck off to a single-stall bathroom, freely able to take off the itchy plastic mask. It felt like he was finally able to breathe. He stared into the mirror, looking deeply into the reddish pink color of his eyes, before his sight began to wander to his gnarled mouth, his misshapen nose and ears, and the small scales that littered his jaw and hairline.
No one needed to see this.
His appearance was a blessing, he reminded himself. It was easy to forget. For whatever reason, because of his curse, he was able to commune with spirits from all over the world, whose stories went back hundreds of years. Occasionally when he would give a particularly momentous performance, or would discover a new style that suited him perfectly, his body transformed. However his last transformation was ages ago during their first sold-out show in his hometown of Kyoto. Years had gone on since then. Dozens more songs had been released. He traveled the country, playing at some foreign venues too, and had done more performances than he ever thought possible and yet still, his face was the same.
Which would be fine if it wasn’t for everyone making such a big deal out of it. Interviews for news publications, talks with producers or executives, every other comment in their fanmail, all seemed to be completely fixated on it.
All he ever wanted to do was to perform, and from the looks of it, he was always meant to. If he wasn’t born with this curse, his training and rehearsals would have started basically since birth. His father was a retired musician, hugely popular in the decades before his sons were born, but his star had been rapidly declining ever since. He trained Inu-oh's brothers to be just like him to give himself a potential second life as a producer. Despite his desperation for heirs to carry on his legacy, he was uninterested in anything Inu-oh wanted to add.
So, Inu-oh perfected his craft on his own, teaching himself everything he ever could about song and dance by listening to records in private and watching tv from outside the mansion windows. When he grew up, he had escaped his father’s mansion and ran into Tomoari (Tomoichi at the time), who then was merely an aimless middle school student moments away from dropping out. Inu-oh took his own natural abilities as a spirit medium, combined it with his endless desire to become a better performer, and was continually inspired by Tomoari’s spectacular instrumentation and songwriting skills. Eventually, he finally made it as his own artist.
And now, the same curse that helped him make all of his songs and grow his star could very well be his downfall. He knew what would happen if people saw him; no one would ever be able to forget it. The music wouldn’t matter anymore, his concerts would become the contemporary equivalent of a freak show.
He heard someone knock on the door and he suddenly realized over an hour had passed since lunch break began.
“Inu-oh, are you there?” Tomoari’s voice called from behind the door.
Inu-oh went to unlock it, not bothering to put the plastic mask back on. He didn’t need to cover himself with his friend.
Tomoari stepped in, closing the door behind them. “Are you ok? Lunch ended earlier and no one could find you.”
Inu-oh fidgeted with his borrowed clothes, and knew he should change back into the mask he was given. He knew he should head out to the set and finish the shoot. But right now, it felt like his feet were glued to the grimey tiled floors.
“I don’t want to go back out there,” he whispered.
He explained to Tomoari what had happened. His partner held their hands firmly onto his as they listened so attentively. Their face turned from concern to disgust to anger as the story went on.
“That son of a bitch!” they shouted. “He’s lucky I didn’t hear that, otherwise who knows what I would have done by now!”
They stormed off, still holding onto Inu-oh’s hand as he frantically covered himself again, “Do we want to leave or should I try to sort this out?”
Inu-oh thought for a moment before giving into his instincts, “I want to leave.”
Tomoari huffed. “Alright. You get changed, I’ll go talk to him.”
He did just that, and did not say a word for the entire journey home.
Inu-oh now made his way to their apartment’s restroom, where Tomoari was washing off their makeup, still complaining to themself.
“I swear, I will make time to talk to a contract lawyer about this. There’s no way that was legal,” they ranted.
Inu-oh just made a slight hum in response as he entered the bathroom door. He turned on the shower and stepped out of his clothes. Despite the embarrassment he felt throughout the shoot, even before the director made his request, he didn’t feel any shame in being so exposed in front of Tomoari. He made his way into the shower, feet dragging with every step. Under the stream of the water, beneath the sound of the droplets hitting the bathtub floor, his tears went unnoticed.
He didn’t know why this bothered him so much. The director had been right in some ways: if people saw his face, he definitely would gain more attention. There were plenty of singers like him who always wore masks, but none he could think of had a face like his. If anyone did, they were hiding it like he was.
Despite the abuse he suffered as a child, largely garnered by his appearance, he had no issue with it whatsoever back then. This shame was a recent phenomenon. When he was younger, he would show his face all the time. He used to take off his mask whenever he wanted because it was stuffy or bothersome before a staff member at the mansion would have to force it back onto him. When he got older, he loved to take his mask off in front of people on purpose to scare them, always laughing at their disturbed reactions. This kind of prank was the first thing he did when he met Tomoari (Tomoichi at the time, again), though for obvious reasons they did not react the same way people normally did.
Maybe his friendship with Tomoari was what gave him this self consciousness, in a weird way. Tomoari treated him with respect, like a person, the entire time they’d known him. Inu-oh could be foolish and ignorant at times, especially when he was young, but they never judged him for that. For a while, Inu-oh had internalized this as meaning that only people who never saw his face could ever take him seriously.
This wasn’t true, of course. Tomoari knew what his face looked like from the beginning. They always paid attention to little details and had an active imagination. They picked up on the way Inu-oh’s voice came from the side of his face rather than the bottom very quickly. They noticed the way he had trouble hearing sometimes when his mask was on, or would only ever scratch his eyes with his left hand, never his right. They had a decent idea of his features before they even touched him, but loved him anyway.
However, not everyone was Tomoari. Unlike so many others, they loved him so much and had always been more accepting than most when it came to things deemed odd or unconventional.
Inu-oh, at one point, assumed this unconditional love and support would have made him feel invincible. It did when he was on stage, but when taken out of his comfort zone? That was always more…
“Are you ok?” Tomoari asked after they knocked slightly on the glass screen door leading to the shower.
Inu-oh turned towards them, seeing their silhouette through the tinted glass.
“I heard you crying, can I come in?”
Inu-oh should have known he wouldn’t have gone completely unnoticed. “Sure,” he said, just barely audible above the water.
Tomoari stripped out of their clothes and stepped in. They touched him briefly first, sliding their fingers across his shoulders. Inu-oh could feel their chipped nail polish before they ran their hands down to his front. They wrapped their arms around Inu-oh’s waist, holding the two of them flush together. Tomoari slipped their fingers through Inu-oh’s wet hair, scratching gently at the back of his neck.
“I’m sorry,” Tomoari said. “I’ve been complaining this entire time and I never even tried to comfort you. You’re the one who’s really hurting, not me. You didn’t need to hear all that.”
Inu-oh held them in return, hands set firmly on their bare back, his head finding its way into the crook of their neck. Safe here, he continued to cry, his tears falling down Tomoari’s shoulder being easily mistaken for the shower water droplets. Despite his sorrow, Inu-oh’s thoughts now were only occupied by the loving he felt of being completely consumed by his friend’s touch. Not an inch of space existed between them; they existed here completely skin to skin. All the feelings swarming his head for the past few hours washed away down the drain. Any ounce of shame or fear couldn’t exist when he was embraced as gently as this.
Their moment together was eventually interrupted by their dogs clawing and whining at the door. Tomoari kept Inu-oh in their arms as they sighed.
“We forgot to take them out when we got home. Should I? Do you need more time to gather yourself?” they asked.
Inu-oh shook his head, still close enough to Tomoari’s neck for them to feel it. “No,” he said, “I love spending time with them, even if it’s cleaning up after them. I’ll do it.”
Inu-oh turned off the shower and dried himself before changing into a basic, unrecognizable t-shirt and shorts. He put on his casual mask: a pair of dark red sunglasses and a surgical mask. Both items were transparent enough for him to see out of but not so much that anyone could see him. He fluffed up his damp hair to cover up any exposed parts of his face.
They had a lot of dogs. Correction: he had a lot of dogs. Eight total. Meanwhile Tomoari had only one cat, though they agreed to take care of the puppies when Inu-oh was busy with other things, or simply whenever they wanted to. Inu-oh just couldn’t resist any stray or sad shelter pup he found, especially unable to resist the ones growing out of childhood and nearing an age where they’d need to be put down for not being seen as adoptable. Their household had a population of eleven people and animals total now, all sharing a modest apartment.
He put all the dogs on their leads and took them downstairs, pulling them along as they tried sniffing at all their neighbours’ front doors. He didn’t want anyone looking out and reporting him to their landlord for violating the building’s limited pet policy. He took them back to a nearby alleyway to do their business, where they explored and ran around, distracted by every little bird or piece of trash floating in the wind.
It was such a nice day, and spending time with his friends always made Inu-oh feel better, so he took them walking after that. Just a quick go around the block. The dogs twisted themselves around their leads or under Inu-oh’s legs and he’d put them right back into place. Occasionally another dog would walk by, and unless the other owner would pull theirs away, it would take quite a while for everyone to greet each other.
Inu-oh stopped by his apartment’s mailbox, which was a little ways from the building. He tossed out the unwanted advertisements and magazines, but took delicate care of the vinyl records Tomoari had ordered, holding them firmly under his arm.
Before he walked off back to the apartment he noticed one of the dogs refused to move. Mercury, an old collie whose nose was dusted with faded grey hairs from age, sat on the ground by the mailbox. If it was anyone else Inu-oh wouldn’t have worried, he would have just pulled them along without issue. However Mercury had a few health problems due to his age, and his joints would hurt terribly every once in a while. Inu-oh turned around, squatting on the ground to pet behind the dog’s ears.
Oh.
This is why he was so anxious about his face, was it?
Before, when he was young, when he was free from any and all expectations and responsibilities, he could behave as terribly as he wanted. He knew what the consequences were for his actions, but thought as long as he didn’t get caught, or as long as he could lick his wounds and get back up the next day, he had nothing to worry about. And that did work for a long time.
But now in his early adulthood, things were different. He had people looking up to him for just about everything. He had a band and a whole stage crew that worked for him, and relied on him for their careers. He had all of these dogs who loved him and needed him for food and shelter, and for some, to get them their much needed extra care. Sure, Tomoari was also in this same position, acting as a leader for their band and a provider for their family, but they frequently said they couldn’t dream of doing it alone.
Inu-oh realized that if anything ever happened to him, if news ever got out about the things he wanted to hide… for the first time in his life it wouldn’t just be him who was hurt.
He gave Mercury a quick hug around his shoulders before picking him up, holding him under his other arm. He was a little heavy, but it was no issue if he walked fast enough.
Inu-oh arrived back at the apartment soon after that, removing his shoes and mask, as well as undoing everyone's collars and leads so they could run free into the other rooms. In the living area, Inu-oh heard Tomoari making a phone call, but he couldn’t recognize the fuzzy voice on the other end of the line.
“That’d be great!” Tomoari said, shifting the phone in their hand. “I’ll be sure to tell him immediately.” They put the phone down after that, turning towards their partner.
“How was it? Clear your head at all?” they asked.
Inu-oh nodded, making his way to the couch in the center of the room. “Yeah, I feel better now. Mercury had some trouble but he just needs some rest, nothing to worry about. Also,” he handed the vinyl records off to his partner, “these came in for you.”
Tomoari let out a noise of excitement, before paging their fingers across the small stack and grabbing the only double LP, “I’ve been waiting for this for forever!”
They turned to set the disc onto the turntable on the other side of the room. The speakers sounded out with the slow droning noise of voices layered atop tuning instruments before the guitar and drums kicked in past the sound. Tomoari’s body bobbed to the distinctive beat before they began to sing along with the English vocals. Both of them knew Tomoari’s pronunciation was probably all off, but neither cared.
Inu-oh watched them dance along with the song for a moment, which they couldn’t do much of considering how sensitive the turntable was and how finicky the downstairs neighbours were, but it was an enchanting display nonetheless. Tomoari often insisted they weren’t a dancer, especially not in comparison to Inu-oh, but that didn’t mean they weren’t talented.
As the song continued, Inu-oh realized he wanted to grab their braille label maker so he could get to work on fixing up the remaining record sleeves and center labels, but it was currently on the shelf next to the cat’s perch. Inu-oh had never in his life met an animal that didn’t like him before they adopted her, and he didn’t want to get scratched at.
So instead, he continued to watch. The song changed to one with a slower tempo and more of a swing to it, and Tomoari held out their hands to their partner. Inu-oh obeyed and stood up, moving to wrap his arms around them as they began to sway together in the middle of the room.
“That was the assistant director on the phone, by the way,” said Tomoari. “The lady I was with earlier.”
Inu-oh looked back in his memories, trying to remember who that was. “The one with the eyebrow piercing?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but I guess she seemed like the kind of person to have one,” Tomoari laughed. “But anyway, I talked to her about the shoot, and she says she'll most likely be able to reschedule it with a new lead director. That guy’s behavior completely violated our contract, it’s our right to ask for someone else.”
Inu-oh held his friend closer, “I don’t wanna get him fired or anything. I don’t want this to be a big deal.”
“Doesn’t have to be. She said she could come up with some excuse as to why we couldn’t work together. And I can warn bands he works with after this to be wary around him. If someone else wants to take more action, so be it. You don’t have to say a thing.”
Inu-oh smiled into Tomoari’s shoulder. “That sounds great. Can she make sure I get better outfits and poses next time too?”
“I sure hope so!” Tomoari demanded. “A plastic mask? What were they thinking? Assistant director lady, whatever her name is, can take care of you, I trust her. She’s the one who insisted I should be able to have my cane with me in photos.”
The song changed again to one Inu-oh recognized, but couldn’t remember the name of. An instrument he couldn’t identify droned though the air as he lay his head against his partner’s. Tomoari wasn’t allowed to have their cane at first? He didn’t know that. That was completely ridiculous, how were they supposed to make their way on and off set without it?
Inu-oh thought for a while longer. There really were some terrible people out there in the world, right? People who would deny his friend their dignity and self determination because it clashed with the “look” of their shoot, or whatever. People who assumed his “condition” was something to exploit or deny rather than something that deeply affected every facet of his life.
“Tomoari?” Inu-oh asked in a low voice. Tomoari hummed in response. “If I did show my face in public, how do you think people would react? Our fans especially.”
“Am I really the best person to ask?” Tomoari laughed. “I’m a little biased.”
“You are, but give me what you think anyway.”
Tomoari backed away from the embrace, but kept their hands at Inu-oh’s waist. “Well, I don’t think people would like it the way I do. That’s a given, I know my tastes can be… unconventional. But, I don’t think they’d hate it. People really like you, y’know? Sometimes people recognize me on the street and get disappointed when they find out you’re not with me, because they just really wanted to see you.”
Inu-oh smiled, “That’s nice to hear.”
Tomoari’s lips formed a slight frown as their hands raised to caress the sides of Inu-oh’s face, “Hey, are you sure you’re ok? I’m not used to hearing you be this pessimistic.”
“Yeah, sorry,” said Inu-oh, “I’m realizing I don’t… I don’t know how to reconcile my principles with my career. Does that make sense? Like, remember when we were kids and we would run around the city together at night and mess with people who were up to no good? If this had happened to me back then I would have done some mean prank on that director and just laughed it off, but I realized that now, I’m so worried about being able to maintain this life that I’ve put up a nice front when it comes to guys like that.”
Tomoari hummed in understanding. “Well, don’t worry about losing gigs. I’m not exactly a saint. Call it my rock-star attitude.”
Inu-oh laughed, bringing Tomoari in for a tight embrace again, “That’s right! Though, I don’t know if a band can have two prickly members and no nice ones.”
“I can’t say. Though, I can say, a harsh comment from you would probably hurt someone a hell of a lot more than it would from me.”
“That’s fair.”
“Have you changed your mind, or something?” said Tomoari, turning to face their friend, “Do you actually want to make a statement against that director?”
“Not directly, no,” Inu-oh assured. “Like I said, I don’t want this to be a big deal.”
Tomoari’s brow furrowed slightly before they sighed and turned away. “If that’s what you want, then I’ll leave it at that.”
The next song came up on the record, one with a series of regular guitar chords coming out in short, choppy waves. Tomoari held onto Inu-oh tighter, “Alright then!” they smiled. “Let’s stop with this downer stuff for now, this song’s a happy one.”
Inu-oh laughed, letting himself get pulled around across the room, “Is it? We haven’t looked for a translation yet.”
“I choose to believe it is.”
Inu-oh smiled as the pair began to step in time to the music, swaying back and forth in a way that was too awkward to ever be performed on stage. They tried to move, but the dogs were just so excited by them that they began to walk in the way, tripping the two at every opportunity. Every time they stumbled even a little bit, the record would skip, which just made them laugh even more.
All worries began to slowly leave Inu-oh’s head as they danced across the room. His family weren’t burdens he had to sacrifice himself for, they were the person and animals he loved them more than anything. The friends and allies he had made through the years since his debut weren’t just there for a paycheck, they’d stick up for him if the time called for it. Years of being considered scary and unapproachable told him that the moment he gained any acceptance, he needed to hold onto it tight and never do anything to rock the boat and potentially lose it. But that’s not how most people thought, was it? He had the right to stand up for himself. To carry that childhood confidence into his new life as a professional.
“I love you, by the way,” Tomoari said through their laughter, “and I’m really proud of you.”
Inu-oh left a quick lick across their face with his long tongue. “Thanks,” he said with a wide smile for no one to see.