Work Text:
Unfortunately for everyone who met her, Sawako did not live up to the average person’s expectations for a tattoo artist.
She was gloomy, sure, but that wasn’t her personality. She was kind-hearted, gentle, and a bit nervous.
Tragically, she hadn’t been arrested even once.
Worse, she hadn’t even attempted to break the law.
She often felt guilty about it. People would frequently approach her with questions about her experience in prison, but she never felt like she had an adequate response. What could she say that wouldn’t disappoint them?
Sawako sighed. She took a rag and went to clean the windows. Her coworkers always seemed so relieved when she agreed to close again, and she was happy to take on the burden. After all, she had no one to go home to.
Closing up the tattoo parlor also gave her the chance to observe the world outside. People were a curiosity, strolling past with their little dogs and arms full of shopping bags and faces, ruddy from the crisp coldness outside, glowing with every emotion imaginable. Every life was a person, a connection waiting to happen.
If only I could reach out—
If I could just—
Sawako wished many things. As the sunset faded into dusk, she watched people as they passed by on their way to the next step of their lives.
She stepped away from the window, determined to work hard. Cheering herself on quietly, Sawako set to scrubbing down the stations and prepping everything for the next day. A soft melody danced on her tongue. Sawako finished her last station, yet the tune lingered, unfinished.
Before leaving for the evening, Sawako grabbed the trash and went to toss it on the way to the train. A cool breeze rushed down the street, rolling leaves across the path. Even tired, the fading colors brought a small smile to her face.
Tension shot through her bones. Someone was near the dumpster.
Her mind running through possibilities—not that there were many normal reasons at this hour, so her main concern was ghosts?—, Sawako hesitantly called, “Ano?”
Thud. The dumpster shuddered once, then stilled.
Sawako jumped.
Popping around the corner was the familiar face of Kazehaya, the local florist. He waved, sounding a bit sheepish as he said, “I’m didn’t know you were here! I hope I didn’t scare you.”
Sawako’s face burned. She waved him off aggressively. “No, no! It’s okay. I just thought you were gone already…” She trailed off, her voice nearly a whisper at the end.
“Well, have a good evening, then,” Kazehaya chirped. He strode away, every movement seeming completely sure to Sawako.
A sigh slipped out. If only I could be as confident and cool as him… she thought. It was a common refrain. They had worked just down the street from one another for nearly a year now and his perpetual friendliness never ceased to stun her. It was a miracle that she had managed to speak at all this time.
One day, she thought, determined, one day, I’ll ask him how he does it. I’ll practice and I’ll welcome people like Kazehaya.