Chapter Text
Hakari was vehement about the fever of one’s being.
What made someone passionate? What moved the cogs in their clock? What motivated a person’s being to the point they get up in the morning to actively pursue it?
Everyone has a passion they seek. It’s what gave a person their fluidity, personality, purpose.. that’s why he quickly got fed up with his classmates at college.
It was a shallow side hustle at the time, where Hakari would allow any student to confront him behind school after hours. Concealed from public eye, and authority, classmates wagered on who could successfully beat Hakari up, and students tried again and again to confront him to test their pride and hopefully get a buck out of it. It was a futile battle of half the school’s boys against him. Even in groups, when going behind the school where Hakari was waiting and another classmate of his, student Hoshi Kirara, sat on the brick wall to collect the bets students placed on who would win.
Punching Hakari was like punching a wall. He was crazy durable, and never got bruises or cuts no matter what was inflicted on him. Once his amusement ran thin and his boredom grew, he would sucker punch whoever was against him with his left hand in his pocket. It wasn’t getting the itch he yearned to scratch, all he got out of the experience was a sweet hug from Kirara and a nice meal at some burger joint to celebrate with her.
It wasn’t a growing problem until a group of wannabe delinquents tried to get their hands on Hakari during their lunch break. Naturally, he defended himself, and the conflict ended with eleven guys sprawled in the hallway, trailing into the classroom. It didn’t make sense. But in the process of being investigated by the higher ups at the school and police, students took the opportunity to rat him out due to being spiteful of their lost bets. It got Kirara tied into the sticky situation as well. And eventually, the duo’s antics came to an end as they were suspended.
“That school was lame anyway.” Kirara scoffed, as the two begrudgingly glared at the school’s front gates before their final dismissal.
“That shit was draining my creativity anyway. I got better stuff to do…” Hakari scratched the back of his neck, as they eventually walked away.
That was roughly four months ago, and the couple got to work in planning their eventual future.
Hakari was in love with the parking garage once his friend of a friend of that friend toured him around the beaten down place. He was the supposed owner, but was seeking different ambitions. Hakari and Kirara didn’t really need to discuss it too thoroughly with each other, as they decided that they yearned to start an underground fight club blossoming in Tochigi Prefecture. The only issue that came with this… was that the beaten down parking garage costed a hefty amount of money. Kirara swore they were being scammed, no way such an ugly place costed /that/ much. They had no choice but to make negotiations. So, they would have a year to chalk up the money to buy the dump before the owner put it back on the market.
“That’s stupid, it literally looked abandoned.” Kirara scoffed, exaggerating her point by throwing her hands in front of her. The two stood before the parking garage, the environ of patchy grass and rubble, which broke off the garage’s pillars, wasn’t a pretty sight at all.
“Once we buy this dump, I’ll kick that guy’s ass for making us go through the trouble.” Hakari declared.
That was two months ago.
Progress had been made since then, as Hakari purchased a two floored studio. The bottom being open to the public, with bold letting across the windows reading: GACHINKO TATTOO PARLOR. And the top studio being a two roomed apartment for Kirara and Hakari, where they moved in together.
Kirara had recommended the idea to Hakari, excitingly explaining what they could do. Hakari wasn’t the worst at art, in fact, Kirara was the reason why he attended that dumb art school anyway. And Kirara never failed to express her creativity after her dull experience in high school. They met in their third year of high school, and Hakari having no other plans than hopefully winning the lottery from a cheap ticket, gave into Kirara’s begs to accompany her. So it gave Hakari experience in basic art skills. And Kirara had already given herself a plethora of piercings, most promptly being on her face. It wasn’t a terrible plan, in fact, it sounded fun. If Hakari’s tattoos were bad, he could shrug them off and say “no refunds”. So there was no real consequences.. they got cash either way from it. And they would take advantage of the people coming in by subtly mentioning their underground fight club to lowlifes who Hakari assumed (by appearance and fever alone) could be dumb enough to be intrigued and be anticipated for its opening in ten months. So then, they would be entirely set to kickstart the fight club.
Life was good.
It was a slow day in the parlor. Mostly creeping with the before mentioned lowlifes and their friends, who they would bring in to get a piercing or two, and then have the fight club practically advertised to them.
“Make sure to bring more of your pals who are interested in tattoos or piercings,” Kirara winked them out, as the group snickered and left with a chime of the glass doors closing.
Kirara gazed out the window, sitting in a spinning stool in front of the counter so it would be easier to welcome customers in. Kirara was pretty on the eyes, having a unique style and welcoming smile. Her piercings seemed to glisten whenever smiling directly in the sun, and her hair spooned her face and tumbled off her shoulders gracefully. Hakari sat in a similar stool behind the counter, his elbow propped against the table as he clicked away at gacha games on his phone rhythmically. His purple eyes lifted from the screen watching Kirara spin the stool back and forth in boredom as they awaited someone to come through the doors. Catching a glimpse of her soft, star shaped pupils made Hakari’s downturned lips smirk, making the spinning Kirara stop and smile warmly back at him.
“What’s up?” She hummed, rolling the stool to the counter to face him closer. Hakari’s smirk faded after being caught gawking her, but his eyes never drew away from her.
“I’m thinkin’ of closing early. I want to take you somewhere.” Hakari put his phone down, to tilt his face forward to hers. She bounced up in anticipation, smiling wider than before, grabbing Hakari’s hand with both of hers.
“Really? Where you gonna take me, Kin?”
“The casino.”
Kirara’s smile faded as she dropped his hand.
“Don’t get my hopes up again.” She kicked against the counter so she would roll across the room and closer to the window panels. Hakari laughed at the sudden reaction, standing from his chair and stuffing his phone in his fur coat pocket. He approached the turnt away Kirara whose arms were stubbornly crossed. Hakari could see her pursed, pouty lips in the reflection of the window. He snuck up and abruptly poked her sides, laughing as she squealed and leaned forward to try to escape him, Hakari pulled Kirara off the stool by her waist and spinning her onto her feet.
She stifled giggles in a weak attempt to ignore him.
“We can get some milkshakes if the place down the street doesn’t close soon.” Hakari reassured, having been half sarcastic about hitting the casino.
Kirara sighed. She let down her “grudge” as she took her black apron off and tossed it on the counter. Hakari never wore an apron.
Once flipping the main lights out and turning over the CLOSED sign, they finally stepped out into the chilly night air. It couldn’t of been later than eight o’ clock, and they usually closed at ten. They locked the doors and intertwined hands, eager to go grab a bite and just soak up each other’s presence.
Before the couple could resume their stroll, Hakari yanked Kirara behind him as he heard low grunts and loud thuds. It echoed from the alleyway which was between the parlor and the next door shop, where the audible sound of a grown man weakly rang out.
“Don’t! Ever! Touch! My! Shit! Again, bitch!” A thud and cry echoed between each shout. Hakari could only make this out as some guy beating this other guy up for attempting to pickpocket him. The guy was doing a damn good job too, but it was excessive with the amount of kicks Hakari heard. He nodded down at Kirara, as they peeked over the corner to see what the hell was happening. It was natural to mind your business. But the two were intrigued, after all, they were soon to start a /fight club/. Who didn’t want to watch a fight? Even with their eyes squinted, they couldn’t see either figures in absolute clarity. But one guy was obviously in a fetal position on the ground, getting kicked in by the figure of a guy that couldn’t be taller than Hakari.
The kicking session lasted a few more minutes, and the two were strangely mesmerized. The guy stopped abruptly. His shoulders rising and falling with rough breaths, as he gave a last final kick, and reached down to grab what they could only assume was his belongings. He soon turned away and abandoned the weeping man, the street lambs illuminating him gently as he stepped to the sidewalk. His knuckles coated in blood, which he used to wipe his chin off, unknowingly spreading it on his face. Kirara and Hakari’s mouths were agape, seeing a guy in a baggy white shirt and sweat pants of the same color. His cyan blue dyed hair was tied into two buns on top of his head, the rest of his shoulder length hair frizzing out in a disheveled manner. And worst of all, he was kicking the guy in an expensive pair of Jordans, which were soaked in blood that wasn’t even his.
“The hell are you two looking at?” His voice was a lot deeper than his cutesy face, hell, his body looked pretty dainty too. The guy clutched his binder to his chest, which might’ve been the item the douche tried to snatch. But his voice was more than enough to snap Kirara and Hakari to reality, as Kirara bowed her head and punched Hakari’s down with hers.
“Sorryfortheeavsedropping— goodbye, have a nice night!” She pulled Hakari away by his arm, who was still left in shock from just what the hell happened. He glanced back as they power walked away, raising an eyebrow as the guy seemed to dismiss them. Most strange of all, he stood in front of the tattoo parlor with his binder in hand, stomping his feet and stomping away.
Hakari smirked, thinking, what a weird guy!
Kirara and Hakari attempted to smooth over what they saw by getting a meal to share. Attempting to stray away from the topic of the strange guy only resulted in weak conversation topics. They ended up talking about the entire encounter on the way home, and when they brushed their teeth, and when they cuddled up to each other in the futon they shared. It was such a short encounter but they had a plethora of things to say about it, the unanswered questions and curiosities left Kirara and Hakari giggling into each other as they talked about how such a cute man could have such a low voice and short temper.
They didn’t bring it up in the morning since they had actual tasks to tend to. It was a casual morning, the two getting ready for the day and then going downstairs to the studio to open the parlor. They anticipated a slow day, so decided today would be a good day to clean around. Hakari would sweep and mop the floors, and Kirara would sanitize the overall supplies and get more ink supply. They talked as they turned the lights on and went to flip the sign to OPEN. Kirara laughed at one of Hakari’s jokes, then the door chimed opened instantly.
Hakari was still holding the sign as a familiar face came in eagerly. Those tight cyan hair buns, the eccentric mannerism of his awkward yet speedy entrance stunned Hakari and Kirara to silence as the three had a stare down with each other. The weirdo seemed just as stupefied as them, his orbs snapping from both of them.
“Really? You two own this place…?” His voice was strained, as a familiar binder was folded under his arm.
Kirara and Hakari looked at each other.
“You tryna get a tat?” Hakari reluctantly spoke up.
“Nah, I need a job, and assumed this would be easiest.” The guy said flatly, as he approached the counter to toss his binder down. The two joined him at the counter, together, flipping through the pages. It contained intricate designs and legitimate photos of people with tattoos under his small initials.
“Wowwwza, you did these?” Kirara oohed, looking at him for confirmation.
“What do you think..?” He snapped back, Kirara’s amazed expression turning dead in seconds.
Hakari examined the pages closely.
Kirara and him had planned for something like this happening. “If anybody asks for an interview, we say they suck and turn them away.” But Hakari saw the guy’s talent. Not only with doing tats, but he surely had to be experienced in fighting if he took down a big guy like that.
Wouldn’t it benefit his fight club to have fighters already ready?
He looked down at Kirara. She was already looking up at him with a tense expression, which confirmed to Hakari that she had the same thought.
Hakari was interested in the guy’s fever.
“I don’t see why I should reject ya. I bet you’d sucker punch me if I dared to.” Hakari snickered, earning a bashful express from the guy.
“So?” He rolled his eyes back to Hakari, anticipating an answer.
Hakari shrugged his shoulders, as Kirara leaned over him to extended her hand for a handshake with the guy. She was surprised to feel how calloused his palms were against her skin.
“You start today, ……..?”
“Hajime Kashimo.”
“Hakari. This is Kirara. Alright, you start today by sweeping and mopping until you can see Kirara’s face from the shine of the floorboards.”
Kashimo grunted, stiffening.
“You for real??”
“You wanna tattoo people or what, man?”
Kashimo bite his tongue. He stared at a smiling Hakari, whose eyes couldn’t pull away, attempting to soak up all information he could of the man.
Upon seeing Kashimo turn away, Kirara cling to Hakari’s arm and leaned up into him so he could whisper in her ear.
“Don’t tell him about the fight club yet. We don’t know if he has the same fever as us yet. I want to bore him to the point he’s restless and has no other choice but wanna join it.”
“You think he has a fever like yours, Kin?”
“Let’s get to know him better,” Hakari ruffled Kirara’s hair. “No rush. Just ten months to get to know him unless he quits.” He smirked.