Chapter Text
“CHERRY BLOSSOM’S PRIVATE TATTOO STUDIO”
The words bloom on the screen when Kojiro clicks the link he — at last — has time to open. A yawn escapes his mouth, followed by a quiet sigh as the man sprawls on a bed. Today has been hectic at Sia La Luce, the local reserved for a birthday party that lasted for hours on end. The moment Kojiro stepped through the threshold of his home, he craved nothing but to knock himself out for the night.
And yet, Kojiro’s mind wandered to the conversation he had with his coworker. She told him about the place that opened less than a year ago and has already collected an astounding amount of positive reviews. Sure enough — during his break, Kojiro quickly googled the studio only to be proven correct. People praised the tattoo artist for his professionalism and kindhearted nature; the photos Kojiro found while quickly scrolling through the website displayed various, beautiful tattoos. It piqued Kojiro’s interest, though he’d still have to check the designs up close. He’s had a tattoo idea in mind for a while now, yet he didn’t have much time to do his research while living a hectic, busy life. By his logic, it was just a tattoo, and there were many talented artists out there. He figured he had no preference.
Until now.
Kojiro slightly gapes at the gallery page filled with a variety of tattoos, some black, some colorful, and vibrant. There are photos taken in the middle of tattooing as well as the final results. On some of them, the artist is slightly visible — pink hair obscuring almost all of their face, showing only a sharp chin and a pointed, dainty nose. Although he’s leaning forward, machine pen in hand, his posture is as straight as it can be, omitting a confident aura. Kojiro can’t help but take a closer look, note the muscled but slender forearms and broad shoulders.
Body-wise alone, Kojiro hums in appreciation, forgetting himself for a second and why he’s on this website, to begin with. But hey, if he could get himself a cool tattoo and maybe check out this guy — who pretty much looks like his type — then what’s a big deal? It’s not that often Kojiro comes across pretty men before even fully seeing their faces. He’d be damned if he didn’t admit the slight attraction and curiosity growing inside him already.
After one more glance, Kojiro scrolls further past the photos to find design examples. They vary in floral themes, animals such as koi fish or even those rooted in realism portraits of people and mythological figures. If Kojiro hasn’t had a concept already, he’d be lost as to what he should pick, feeling undecided for the first time while looking at tattoos. It solely convinces him that this Cherry Blossom should be the one he goes to.
A moment passes until Kojiro makes his decision. There’s no point in getting stuck between designs he wouldn’t mind seeing on his body — he can always return and simply get more of them. With that in mind, Kojiro pushes himself off the bed to reach for a desk he believes contains a certain piece of paper.
Some fleeting, responsible thoughts pass through his mind, a reminder that perhaps he shouldn’t act carelessly while sporting a headache and running on a very low battery. Though, Kojiro is not one of those people down to the ground, and so his choices are full of spontaneity. Besides, if he doesn’t take care of it now, the matter will probably end up pushed into the intermediate future.
Again.
“Where is it…” Kojiro mutters under his nose, rummaging through a desk drawer, then the next one. They’re not even that messy, or at least weren’t before Kojiro put his hands there and carelessly pushed everything around.
In the end, still stubbornly checking any potential spot containing the paper, he finds it in a recipe book he hasn’t opened in a while. Maybe it would make sense to search through places where the paper wouldn’t crumple, but Kojiro’s tired brain has no energy to dwell on that.
He collapses on the bed again, the furniture slightly creaking after his back forcefully hit the mattress. Between his fingers lingers the piece of paper with a sketch of the sun he drew with a pencil. However, Kojiro spent too much time thinking it up, and even then, the drawing turned out to be… ugly and messy. He’s not an artist, for God’s sake — a child could create something better looking. It was rather a frustrating experience, being unable to take a picture out of his head and put it in front of his eyes.
Well, this is all he has. Surely this kind tattoo artist won’t laugh at his lack of skill. Without wasting any more time, Kojiro takes a photo under the bedside lamp, then returns to the website and finds the tab to fill an appointment. As far as he knows, artists can tattoo personal designs, however… Kojiro doesn’t want to end up with that on his shoulder. On the other hand, if this Cherry Blossom redrew it…
He won’t find out the answer until he asks. So, without further ado, Kojiro types out his message, including available hours and days, then attaches the photo. With the whiff of popularity Cherry Blossom earned himself, Kojiro doesn’t expect any immediate response, nor nearest date proposal. He’s the type of a guy that would rather call the studio and quickly take care of it, but the place is already closed. At least with the message, he’s one step closer to finally getting himself a tattoo.
Kojiro locks the screen and sighs, throwing the phone somewhere beside him on the bed. Usually, he just rolls onto his stomach and immediately falls asleep, especially after a day like that. Yet Kojiro stares at the ceiling for a moment, imagining the tattoo resting on his shoulder already. Girls will definitely like that.
After entertaining the idea of future dating escapades, crimson eyes flutter shut after lights are turned off. Kojiro is a perfect example of a person that could doze off in any place and position, insomniac troubles unknown to him. So when he stuffs his cheek into a pillow, a duvet messily thrown over his half-naked body, the feeling of slipping into unconsciousness rapidly overtakes him.
But then, a sudden vibration near his ear startles him back into coherency.
Kojiro groans, slightly annoyed by the disturbance. He considers ignoring whoever the hell messaged him... but perhaps he should check it at least. It could be the girl he’s been talking with recently.
After a second, Kojiro blindly reaches for his phone and cracks one eye open, squinting at the blazing screen. The notification doesn’t show a text, but an email. And judging by the visible part of the message, it means…
Kojiro rolls on his side, eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Surely he couldn’t have gotten the reply already, maybe the system decided to automatically email him? But then Kojiro hops on the website and finds it — the message. Though, it doesn’t consist of any words. It’s just an unnamed file.
Sent by mistake?, Kojiro wonders, confused, yet still clicks on the attachment. And suddenly, his eyes widen in bewilderment stronger than before when a photo of a drawing opens up on his phone.
It’s a sun — an empty circle with a solid rim and four rays attached to it on opposite ends of each other. They’re not straight, but shaped into thick waves. Between them are drawn their four smaller versions, detached from the circle and symmetric.
The redesigned sun Kojiro sent earlier.
Red eyes sparkle with amazement, and if falling in love with a drawing was possible, Kojiro would marry it by now. His concept was taken into consideration by the artist and spun into this drawing; he added small changes, but left all important elements Kojiro included. Before that, he felt like his little design was incomplete and bland, yet currently, he can close his eyes and see exactly that image. As if it was pulled out of his head and put on the paper exactly how he wants it. It looks so…
“So cool,” Kojiro acknowledges, zooming on the drawing for the nth time.
He searches his brain for a better word to describe it, and only one thing comes to his mind.
Perfect.
It’s perfect.
Kojiro types exactly that, satisfied. How did the guy understand his go-to vibe and put it on paper — he can’t tell. The positive reviews must have been left for a reason, Kojiro can definitely see it now.
Another message pops up shortly after, startling Kojiro out of his pleased state. It’s a suggested date for the appointment and a polite request to confirm it.
So professional, Kojiro thinks with a lazy smile, then sends a casual affirmation after checking the calendar. How is Cherry Blossom actually available at midnight, undoubtedly past working hours? Within the time it took him to draw and send the sun, Kojiro would manage to form an even-ish circle. Hell, maybe the guy spent even fewer minutes on it if he didn’t see the message immediately! How intriguing.
Kojiro waits around for a bit, but nothing new shows up in his inbox. This time, he sets his phone on mute before putting it back down, a slight smile still dancing on his face.
Artists are crazy.
*
Over two weeks later, on Monday, when Sia La Luce usually has a day off, Kojiro is squinting at his phone, mildly annoyed. He checked up the studio before leaving, obviously, though he didn’t bother to follow google maps throughout the entire walk. It indicated that he could get there in around twenty minutes by foot, so Kojiro roughly had an idea how to find his way after recognizing the neighborhood (which was surprising at first, the fact that the studio isn’t located at a more… populated place).
However, he hasn’t been around here in a while, not even for his morning jogs. The area changed from that last time — a shop opened here and there, streets appeared to be renovated. Kojiro didn’t have a reason to come back here before, nor remember how to navigate this quieter region of the city he doesn’t know much about. As a result, he probably wandered through the wrong street.
When Kojiro realized that he’s lost his sense of field orientation, he was already lost. For no reason, just because he’s dumb and didn’t look at the map since leaving his house.
A few curses later, Kojiro, with the assistance of his phone, learns where exactly he’s. Thankfully he didn’t wander too far away, but…
“Shit,” Kojiro curses. He was supposed to be at the studio at one, the exact hour the clock on the lock screen’s corner is displaying currently, as if silently mocking him.
Kojiro may not be a straight example of punctuality, yet when it doesn’t include nonchalant night outs with others or casual activities, he’s a responsible adult. Not late to work, nor late for dates. And as it stands now, Kojiro is creating for himself a first impression that certainly won’t be flattering the longer he’s not where he’s supposed to be.
A part of him thinks, whatever, but the other tells him to get a move on before he manages to upset Cherry Blossom who designed the tattoo of his dreams. At least he should show some respect.
With the phone in one hand, Kojiro jogs at a steady pace in the correct direction. There’s no need to sweat his way over to the studio, but he definitely has to hurry the hell up. Cross the street, turn to the right and go straight until you round a corner to a parallel street, and…
Kojiro sees it. The fourth house has a sign in front of it, and as Kojiro gets closer, he spots the studio attached to it. Looking up, he can note that the rather spacious first floor is clearly inhabited, maybe even the back of the ground floor that, at first glance, consists of a tattoo settlement.
There’s no time to dumbly stare at the entrance, so Kojiro quickly pushes through the door, and… no one is there?
Traditional music quietly pours through speakers in the waiting room as Kojiro looks around. Three armchairs sit around the low, wooden table, bonsai tree placed atop of it. There are tattoo catalogs (Kojiro assumes) on the thin bookcase nearby and various certificates. From furniture to the walls, everything is kept in a black-pink color palette, creating a cozy space for the clients with a whiff of incense in the air. Painted cherry blossom tree-tops form a beautiful scenery pulled out of a garden, with petals spreading farther on the walls. Then there are weird, thin lines near the ceiling and floor, reminding Kojiro of cyber aesthetics. These contrast with rather traditional and floral decor. All of them spring out of a small reception desk, creating various shapes and outlines, gradually fading away and hiding between sakura. As if conservative met cyberpunk.
However, there’s no one behind the desk. Weirdly enough, no notebook is lying atop it, not a phone — only a small calendar, a clock, and a weird cube that matches the cyber vibe.
“Hello?” Kojiro says after a moment, when he doesn’t find a living soul in this room.
Should he knock on a door next to the desk? Crimson eyes quickly dart to the clock, only to see ten minutes past the set appointment. Kojiro sighs in relief — he’s not so late that Cherry Blossom decided to leave.
Kojiro takes a few steps towards the beforehand mentioned door. “Excuse me?” he asks in a raised tone of voice so he can be heard clearly.
“Welcome. How can I assist you?”
Kojiro almost jumps out of his shoes. What the hell has just talked to him?!
The voice was completely artificial, so he briefly looks around until he notices in the corner of his eye that the previously spotted cube started to glow in purple now. Kojiro squints, coming over and looming over the weird thing. Is it Alexa or some shit?
“Uh, hello?” Kojiro repeats awkwardly, unsure if he’s supposed to talk to it. He doesn’t remember the website mentioning some robot living in the parlor, but then again, he didn’t go in depth when reading about this place. He was tired, alright?
“May I assist you, sir?”
The voice, undoubtedly, comes out of the cube that glows brighter while speaking. Kojiro checks his surroundings again, making sure that he’s completely alone. The last thing he expected was some Alexa wannabee welcoming him by the desk instead of a human being.
Kojiro scratches his cheek. Might as well talk to it before calling the owner. “I-, well, I’m supposed to-”
But before Kojiro finishes his sentence, he’s abruptly interrupted.
“Fucking SHIT!”
The sudden scream almost gives Kojiro another heart attack. There’s a loud noise coming from behind the door he stands nearby, followed by another string of curses. Kojiro stays rooted to the ground, bewildered. Is it the same parlor he has seen online?!
More commotion follows the cursing outburst, the slam of closing drawers, and pushed around things. The mumbling is indistinguishable, so Kojiro only hears bits of, “laundry”, “none left”, “fucking tired”, and more bits not making a lot of sense, only indicating that the person inside must be pissed off and struggling. He opens his mouth to maybe announce his presence, but words stay stuck inside him when it remains unclear if he should interrupt whatever is going on there.
It quickly becomes apparent, his inner questions answered, when the footsteps sound louder, getting closer. By then, Kojiro is able to hear everything more distinctly.
“...swear to God if I got up for nothing. Hey, Carla. Check if this fucking client left any message-”
The door is thrown open at that moment, the sentence unfinished.
“The client has already arrived, master,” the cube speaks up, which is the last source of noise, followed by dead silence filled with a distant hum of music.
A pair of aureate eyes stares into Kojiro’s equally wide ones. Although the former must have fallen silent with evident surprise (and horror?) on his face, Kojiro feels like the breath was sucked out of him. For a moment, all the weird events that happened in the span of a few minutes escape his brain when he’s met face to face with the most gorgeous man he has ever seen. Long, pink hair pools in cascades over one shoulder, silky and undoubtedly soft to the touch. Slender, pale neck, sharp jaw, thin, parted lips, smooth cheekbones, and pierced ears. And a few messy strands falling down his face, next to those narrow, aureate eyes glowing with intensity under long lashes. Kojiro can spot dark shadows below them and stiff facial muscles, yet it doesn’t diminish his eternal beauty. Neither does the stain on black hakama pants, perfectly fit around slim waist, with sleeveless white kimono neatly tucked in. No, the man still emanates elegance and authority that probably could put anyone in their place.
Ruby eyes halt in their appreciative journey for a second, outwardly staring at muscled arms covered in the cyberpunk tattoos he noticed on the website photos. They’re thin and subtle lines that branch here and there, sometimes disconnecting with dots between them; almost minimalist, very different from usual sleeves Kojiro would see. Their pattern and colors match the cube’s motif as if its design got transferred onto his arms.
This man is hot and straight-up beautiful.
Kojiro has never developed a crush this strong and instant in his entire goddamn life.
“Cherry Blossom…?” he asks tentatively, once again locking his eyes with shining gold. Stupid question, but it’s a start.
After another moment of silence, Cherry Blossom regains his composure, face melting into calmness and pristine. Though, Kojiro notices a slight crack in it.
“Why are you here?”
If Kojiro wasn’t even more confused, he’d have appreciated the smoothness of this deep voice. “For a tattoo?”
Even though it’s very subtle, Kojiro notices how Cherry Blossom’s eyebrow twitches. His lips purse into a thin line as if trying to plaster a smile on his face, but in the end, failing.
Then, without a word, Cherry Blossom walks past Kojiro towards the glass door, which turns out to be a one-way tint. The latter follows him with eyes utterly lost to the situation, not moving from the counter — he can see from inside the studio what the man is doing. Cherry Blossom is quick to return, with a sheet of paper in his hand, holding it up for Kojiro to see. “I’ll return shortly. Please wait outside.”, neatly written on it.
He… completely missed it.
“It’s deliberately written there,” Cherry Blossom adds in a stern voice, piercing Kojiro with his stare.
Kojiro suddenly realizes something he missed while under the spell of this handsome man. This is the same guy from the website photos, the same described in the reviews as very kind and patient, promising a wonderful service.
… The exact same person that yelled curses and swore at Kojiro earlier, then looked like a deer caught in headlights when noticing the object of his bitching.
“Are you really Cherry Blossom?” Kojiro questions and chews the inside of his cheek so as not to burst out laughing.
“Who else would I be?” Cherry Blossom deadpans, only missing an eye roll to his stiff features.
“Well,” Kojiro continues, deciding to bite. He’s too blunt for his own good. “I don’t see the gentle, kindhearted tattoo artist I was promised from the reviews.”
The tease, provocation, does it. The mask Cherry Blossom tried wearing, as if it could cover his previous huge slip-up, completely shatters. His glare turns colder, sharper, and the paper crumbles in his fist.
“You already heard me, didn’t you?”
Clearly, it’d be very awkward for both of them if they slipped into politeness now. Kojiro smiles as Cherry Blossom strides past him, reminding him of an annoyed cat. For some reason, Kojiro finds himself into it. Maybe because he likes challenges, whatever they are, and Cherry Blossom seems to be very prone to teasing, aside from completely ignoring how obviously hot Kojiro is.
“Yeah. Guess I wasn’t supposed to hear you cursing me?” Kojiro replies playfully, unable to stop the grin forming on his face, and leans on a door frame after Cherry Blossom stalked inside the second room. He crosses his arms over his chest for t-shirt sleeves to tighten over his biceps.
Cherry Blossom looks highly unimpressed.
“Just get in there, we’re wasting more time,” Cherry Blossom snaps, shuffling around with the seats and machines.
“Am I the first client to receive this special treatment?”
“The most annoying one certainly.”
Kojiro obliges to the rude request. “Man, if only your clients knew.”
“They wouldn’t be late, nor would they eavesdrop.”
Kojiro frowns. “Eavesdrop? You were shouting.”
“Because someone wasn’t on time like any responsible adult should. Anyone could become frustrated. I’m not the immature one here,” Cherry Blossom accuses without missing a beat.
“I lost my way here,” Kojiro shoots back, irritated. The nerve on this guy, can’t he be more strict and stiff than he seems to be?
“As I said. Immature and irresponsible.”
Kojiro has never been this much insulted by a stranger in his entire life. Isn’t he the client here? Couldn’t he just, walk out on Cherry Blossom and post a nasty review?
However, this is about pride. If he leaves now, he will only add to the point of being childish. So, Kojiro grits his teeth, readying another remark. “At least I don’t have a stick up my ass, and I don’t bad mouth others behind their backs.”
It is clear by now that Cherry Blossom puts on his polite mask for the sake of work, his true self emerging when no one is watching.
There it is: Cherry Blossom rolls his eyes. “I spilled coffee on myself which, by the way, was made in haste in case a client finally showed up,” he says venomously, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Now sit down…”
“Kojiro.”
“Fucking sit down, Kojiro.”
Surely Kojiro isn’t into being ordered around, nor for being insulted, but holy shit. The frown between these perfect eyebrows and the little snarl on this mouth. The bouncing back and forth they just exchanged. Kojiro can see the sparkling chemistry between them, the fun in it.
Apparently he stares for too long because Cherry Blossom finishes his aforementioned coffee, and looks back at him.
“So you’re deaf now?” he deadpans.
“Just noticing the nerve you have.”
“Well, maybe don’t annoy someone with a sharp needle in their hand.” Cherry Blossom holds the tool up.
“Or what? You’ll stab me?” Kojiro quips.
“The more you talk, the more it is tempting.”
Kojiro can’t help but finally laugh, seeing how riled up Cherry Blossom has become. Kojiro wonders how many people have seen this guy like that; he clearly seems to be a person that has to have the last word in any argument. They’ve known each other for fifteen minutes, and yet they argue like some good ol’ friends.
“Not worried I’ll expose your little temper?” Kojiro continues, not letting the conversation (argument?) die. He obediently sat down, gaze set on Cherry Blossom.
“This is not a secret,” Cherry Blossom easily shoots him down before any schemes come to his brain while preparing equipment and all the crap Kojiro can’t name or be bothered with.
Even though he should — he’s about to get a tattoo.
“Then?” Kojiro prompts when the man doesn’t elaborate.
“I am a professional. There’s no place for personal feelings when I’m working,” Cherry Blossom states as a matter of fact.
“Aren’t you personal with me now?” Kojiro waggles his eyebrows.
Kaoru ignores the act, and deadpans, “It doesn’t matter anymore, besides, you don’t care. Shirt off.”
The two vastly different sentences throw Kojiro off guard for a second, though he quickly recovers with a smirk stretching his lips. “Isn’t someone quite bold? Not that I’m not into it.”
Cherry Blossom pauses in his movements to stare at Kojiro with the most imperviousness his eyes could hold in them. “Do you perhaps think with your brain or maybe another body part of yours?”
“Depends. What do you prefer?”
Cherry Blossom groans, “Is this how you hit on people? Embarrassing.”
Kojiro raises one eyebrow. People always appreciate his efforts. “As if you would know how to do it.”
“You literally don’t know me.”
“Yet.”
Cherry Blossom squints at him, cogs in his brain turning loudly, but at last, he gravely mutters,“...The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Kojiro decides to leave the question unanswered, enjoying the confusion and wariness written all over Cherry Blossom’s face. Playing innocent, he smoothly takes off his shirt, as ordered. For a split second, he believes he notices golden eyes lowered and stuck on his chest, but as the fabric goes over his head, Cherry Blossom is already focused on something else.
Fine, Kojiro thinks, I’ll make you look at me.
The entire topic is abandoned. Kojiro quiets down, curious what Cherry Blossom is doing. There’s the design he received two weeks ago, so he hums in awe; the drawing looks even better in person. He misses another fleeting glance sent towards him.
“Carla. Please order more rubber gloves and cotton balls. The same amount as always,” Cherry Blossom speaks up, seemingly to no one, but then-
“Understood, master. Adding to the cart now,” the pink bracelet responds with the same voice Kojiro recognizes from the waiting room. Do they make those into bracelets now?
“So this personalized Alexa is your assistant or something?” Kojiro inquiries.
Somehow, his question struck a nerve, which he didn’t actually intend this time around. Kojiro watches as Cherry Blossom’s focused and collected features morph into irritation, the pissed off kind. He was already getting started on the tattoo, hair tied up in a ponytail and gloves on. The rage flickering in his eyes gives him a dangerous, but for Kojiro, even more tempting aura. He could burn under that stare.
“Her name is Carla, and she’s not an Alexa,” Cherry Blossom spits out venomously, accusingly. As if he actually took offense to what Kojiro just said.
“Well, same thing,” Kojiro shrugs. He doesn’t understand what’s the big deal. “It calls you master, even.”
If Kojiro thought the man was angry before, he was mistaken. Only just now the strings keeping him intact, away from fury, abruptly loosened and snapped. He pours some disinfectant on a cotton ball and forcefully presses it into Kojiro’s shoulder, using much more strength than necessary.
“Don’t call her ‘it’. She is not the same.”
Kojiro hisses and jerks his shoulder away on reflex. “What the hell?!” he seethes. “Dude, why are you getting so worked up over a robot!”
Cherry Blossom raises his voice in turn, “How many times do I have to repeat it’s Carla, not ‘Alexa’ nor anything you said?!” The cotton ball is back on tanned skin.
Kojiro leans back, a vein about to pop on his forehead. “So you’re being a jerk over something that doesn’t have feelings?!”
“Stop insulting her, she’s a greater help than any of you annoying people!”
Aren’t you a person as well?, Kojiro thinks bewildered, but yells out: “Because it’s literally programmed to do that!”
“Then maybe I’ll program her to kick your stupid ass!” Cherry Blossom threatens.
“Oh yeah? Well I-,” Kojiro pauses, anger partially evaporated. “Hold on. You will program her?” he asks genuinely, confused even. This is not something he expected to hear unless he shouldn’t take it literally.
But Cherry Blossom only exhales, his portion of rage disappearing as well, though his eyebrows are still twisted in a frown. Back to the form of a quieter, bitchy cat. “Yes, me. I created her.”
Kojiro takes the information in, searching for some kind of a joke in Cherry Blossom’s expression. In the moment of silence they share, slender fingers grab at his bicep to force him back into the previous position, albeit gentler. His fingertips are rather cold even through the glove, the touch sudden and too fleeting, but their brush lingers on the heated skin. Kojiro almost forgets about his turn to respond, momentarily distracted by the softness of Cherry Blossom’s hand.
Crimson eyes lift up, curious, as Cherry Blossom resumes his work — for real this time. Kojiro is actually learning more about him, as he previously stated he planned on doing. He grins. “So you’re a smartass.”
“Unlike some people,” Cherry Blossom retorts immediately, his voice almost entirely deprived of the venom it had moments ago. Like he just replied on autopilot, since their relationship started with arguing.
“Hey, I was about to compliment you,” Kojiro winces, playing hurt. In reality, the bickering is starting to feel oddly familiar. In a way, they established their mutual language.
Cherry Blossom doesn’t add anything to that, leaned over Kojiro’s shoulder with a stencil. The design has been redrawn to a bigger size, the initial one clearly too small since Kojiro is quite broad. Up close, Kojiro can smell the hair shampoo Cherry Blossom uses, something fresh and floral, a hint of bamboo and citrus lingering in there. His eyelashes seem even longer, eyes prettier than the finest gold jewelry. And his mouth… glisters with remains of a balm, pressed together in focus, one corner lifted slightly. Kojiro wouldn’t call it a smile, but it’s the softest look Cherry Blossom has worn so far. Maybe it’s his way of showing any level of amusement, or comfort, or maybe satisfaction over being the one to shut Kojiro up, feeling as if he won.
Kojiro realizes he wants to hear everything Cherry Blossom is thinking about now. He wants to read and understand his emotions in the future after they talk more and spend time in each other’s company. That one moment is enough to ascertain Kojiro — he will be coming back to win over this man.
“What?” Cherry Blossom suddenly asks, looking up.
Kojiro notes that his own lips formed a warm smile, while he has been staring at the other like an idiot with a crush he is.
“Is this good?” Cherry Blossom continues, nodding at the stencil paper.
Kojiro inhales and glances away at his shoulder. Usually, he’s the one to render other people speechless, but today the roles are completely reversed. “Yeah,” he offers, seeing the design very clearly now. He smiles again and genuinely adds, “Looks fantastic.”
Cherry Blossom hums in response; aureate eyes dart away to focus his attention back on the task. Sterilizing equipment, pouring ink, all the while his moves are confident and calculated when it comes to the amount poured into a container. While he puts on a pair of rubber gloves, Kojiro strikes with another conversation topic.
“So, Cherry…” Kojiro aimlessly says, liking how the word sounds like a pet name.
“Don’t call me that,” Cherry Blossom immediately shuts him down.
“Then what should I call you?” Kojiro inquires. He clearly fishes for more information about the man, as well as searches for an opportunity to playfully get under his skin before the needle literally gets under his own.
As expected by now, Cherry Blossom briefly stares at him, unimpressed. Kojiro still asks, “What’s your name?”
“None of your business,” Cherry Blossom responds smoothly.
Clearly, Kojiro has found for himself someone who plays hard to get. He’s about to tell the man to loosen up a bit and ruffle his calm demeanor, but then Cherry Blossom leans closer again, about to start working. At that moment, maroon eyes remain shortly still, yet sharp enough to catch something over Cherry Blossom’s shoulder. Back there, on a wall, hang some diplomas about finished courses and other completion rewards Kojiro can’t read clearly, letters too small. Though, he still manages to find what he has been looking for.
“Sakurayashiki Kaoru,” he reads out loud, smug when Cherry Blossom, Kaoru, flinches next to him, his hand momentarily hovering over the tattoo machine. Kojiro enjoys the sound of it — the name as pretty as its owner, truly fitting.
Before Kojiro can make sure that the pink hue covering the tips of Kaoru’s ears is actually there, the machine is forcefully turned on. The noise takes away his attention, which still doesn’t prepare him for a sudden feeling of a needle breaking his skin. Despite its abruptness, there wasn’t more than necessary strength put into the first touch; Kojiro simply, stupidly got caught off guard.
He hisses, not really from pain, but a funny, unknown tingle. If he wasn’t steadily held in place by Kaoru’s free hand, he could’ve flinched away.
“Hey, warn a guy first,” Kojiro grumbles, all the smugness gone from his deep voice. He slowly relaxes into the touch and allows Kaoru to firmly pin him into a seat while keeping his tattooed skin tight and flat.
“My bad,” Kaoru replies not so sincerely, a smirk gradually curling his lips. “If I knew you’re scared of a needle, I’d have been gentler.”
“Who the hell is scared of a needle?!”
Within minutes, it’s Kojiro who has been riled up instead of the other way around, as it was supposed to be. Kaoru clearly is proud of himself for teasing Kojiro as a payback.
For now, Kojiro obediently sits under the needle while his eyes trace Kaoru’s hand working on the tattoo’s outline. His movements are captivating and extremely precise, leaving no room for any potential mistakes. The reviews didn’t paint Kaoru in his true colors, but they definitely didn’t lie about his incredible skills. Especially for someone like Kojiro, who sucks at anything art-related — he continues to be impressed. His interest numbs the weird feeling on his skin, barely noting the blood that Kaoru occasionally removes. Yet as much as the whole process sparks curiosity in him, soon his gaze shifts towards the artist.
Kaoru seems to be in the zone, no trace of the smugness visible. His eyebrows are contracted in a small furrow, eyes ever so slightly crinkled, teeth worrying the inside of the bottom lip. Kojiro focuses on the latter for a long moment, put under another spell of Kaoru’s beauty. If he could have this view for hours, Kojiro wouldn’t mind getting more tattoos.
“Stop boring holes in my face. You’re distracting,” Kaoru says at some point.
Kojiro is too shameless to even care. He stares at this alluring but rude mouth some more, as obvious as the fact that grass is green and the sky is blue.
“How so?” he replies innocently, smiling. “Am I that distracting?”
“Pushy and disturbing my work.”
“I’m just occupying myself with something,” Kojiro continues the charade.
Kaoru sighs. If he somehow hasn’t noticed Kojiro hitting on him before, he certainly did by now. “I swear I’m going to mess up on purpose.”
“Then I’ll come back for you to remove it.”
“Is there a way of getting rid of you?”
“Nope,” Kojiro responds lightly, their remarks flung like a ping pong ball.
Kaoru’s grip on the needle tightens. Perhaps it wasn’t a logical move to push his luck this far, though Kojiro realizes that getting killed right here and now would be worth it. No risk, no fun.
“If this is how you’re trying to show off, then you’re backtracking,” Kaoru smoothly replies. As expected, his pride doesn’t allow him to let Kojiro have the last word. Which is exactly what Kojiro wants — to provoke and bait Kaoru into a conversation, all for the sake of hearing his sometimes deadpan, sometimes annoyed voice.
“Then what would impress you?” Kojiro jokingly yet genuinely asks.
Golden irises look into his eyes fleetingly while the needle is lifted; in that second, they scrutinize Kojiro, as if searching for something. Maybe for sincerity, or maybe they debate if Kojiro deserves a real answer instead of shutting him down. His stare is bland and mysterious, difficult to decipher. Unlike Kojiro’s, whose attraction is beaming out of him with every breath he takes and every smile he offers.
“If you closed your mouth and let me work,” Kaoru ultimately replies.
Kojiro deflates slightly but obliges — for now, at least. He continues to stare at Kaoru though, his flirtatious persona dropped for a moment. It seems he’s played his cards right this time since Kaoru honors him with another glance, still as unimpressed, but somehow less sharp. Like a cat that will finally allow you to pet it, its claws retracted.
“Or a civil conversation,” Kaoru adds, his tone indifferent. Pretty much trying to tell Kojiro he’s not interested, but so generous to give him some attention.
Ah, Kojiro knows this type. He isn’t half bad at understanding people, even those with troublesome tempers. As it stands, something is sparking between them, and maybe Kaoru is getting caught up in it too. If the man needed to force a barrier between the two, he could give him a silent treatment, just act as he usually does with annoying clients (and those always happen). Didn’t he say he’s a professional?
For some reason, Kojiro can push his buttons too effortlessly for someone who met him only today. They seem to be two polar opposites, so perhaps Kojiro isn’t the only one gravitating towards the other. Or at least he very much hopes so.
Upon hearing Kaoru’s answer, Kojiro changes his tactic to test its authenticity. He strikes a conversation; this time, he talks about himself instead of piling Kaoru with questions that annoyed him before. The latter reluctantly participates in it, as if expecting to waltz into a trap, but when Kojiro makes another effort to not stare at him so intensely, he seems to relax into the atmosphere surrounding them. Kojiro is the one to run his mouth on autopilot, and Kaoru either lets it in and out his ears, or maybe even listens since he replies occasionally. When Kaoru is the first one to tease him about some weird recipe Kojiro mentioned experimenting with, he takes it as an invitation to pick on Kaoru a little bit. The balance is found shortly after, and suddenly, the bickering intertwines in their chit-chat. Sometimes Kaoru just hums in reply, either not needing to talk or focusing his attention on the tattoo. These moments leave Kojiro secretly staring again, as subtly as he can manage, not to disrupt the calm on this handsome face.
The more time passes, it’s Kaoru who learns more about the other. Kojiro doesn’t mind, even if it means he has to fight for bits of information about Kaoru. Minute by minute, he forgets about a clock ticking on the wall, each second of value as long as he can feel the needle on his skin. The tattoo is blooming beautifully, the finish line already in sight, when Kaoru offers him an insult that goes in pair with a smirk — something, Kojiro finds, that heats the blood in his veins, awakens the craving to see a real smile.
So, Kaoru lives alone. Apparently, he’s some sort of a genius, and he’s swimming in cash. His sleep schedule doesn’t exist, so the studio doesn’t open until midday. The A.I. takes care of his schedule and appointments, but sometimes he’s responsive, even at late hours.
Kojiro learns that a lot in Kaoru’s life depends on his mood and the deepness of bags under his eyes. Intertwined in the conversation are sleep issues he doesn’t want to linger around, and Kojiro doesn’t pry. Judging by how his interest seemed to pique when Kojiro mentioned his profession, the latter suspects he likes to eat well, but doesn’t seem like a person that knows their way around a kitchen. Kaoru is immersed in art daily, enjoys traditionalism, which sounds rather boring to Kojiro. Where’s the spice to his life?
Kojiro quickly learns that the robot named Carla is a hellish topic. It caused them to, metaphorically, butt their heads more than once, but at least they bounce off their arguments quickly into the newly developed link of communication.
As for the tattoo, the sun is continuously getting filled with ink without any mistakes, despite Kaoru’s multiple threats of fucking it up on purpose. So a few hours later — how much was it, three, four hours? — Kojiro has a full piece on his shoulder. He swallows the disappointment it brings when the machine is turned off, meaning Kaoru is done with his work. By the end of the session, Kojiro grew completely enamored by the man who didn’t do anything to impress him, seduce him, ignite those feelings. He hasn’t even left yet, but he’s already planning on coming back soon.
“It will look better when it heals,” Kaoru informs, stretching his arms and popping the stiff neck.
“Need a massage?” Kojiro offers.
After the afternoon spent together, Kaoru doesn’t fight him over those kinds of lines. He knows by now that Kojiro wouldn’t listen and still did his dumb thing. “No need. Your brute hands probably don’t know about delicacy anyway.”
“I’ve been told otherwise.” Kojiro winks, reels in the grimace Kaoru sends his way. Maybe a normal person would feel better about making someone smile, but Kojiro started to adore taking any emotions out of Kaoru. He also wouldn’t mind smooching this frown from between two perfect eyebrows.
“Don’t move,” Kaoru orders, changing the topic.
Both hands are back on Kojiro’s skin, the warmth fully welcomed. Kaoru applies an ointment on the tattoo after it’s cleaned properly, then covers it with a clean gauze. On top comes the plastic wrap, binding everything in place. Only then does Kaoru hum to himself in satisfaction. It’s a cue for Kojiro to get up and stretch his legs while Kaoru tidies his workspace, then hands him an instruction manual.
“Everything of importance is already there if you forget what I said, but listen clearly,” Kaoru speaks up and waits until Kojiro’s maroon eyes give him full attention.
“Don’t take it off for the rest of the day. After that, you can clean it with a small amount of water and soap. Then…”
Kaoru starts explaining the entire process, and Kojiro desperately tries to stay focused. The amount of information seems to enter his one ear and half of the time leave through the other, which would pose a problem if not for the instructions he’s received on paper. He can just look into it, right? Or even better, contact Kaoru — maybe lie that he’s lost it, sacrificing his pride for the sake of a conversation.
“...avoid the sun so as to not get sunburned, do not rub…”
Kaoru only keeps going and going, fussing about all importances. He lists them one by one with his fingers that keep track of everything, yet Kojiro’s brain begins to hurt from the overload.
“...obviously avoid alcohol and…”
Kaoru has really nice hands. Not that Kojiro hasn’t noticed after having them on him when he was supposed to sit still. At that moment, he can imagine reaching out for them, to see how they’d fit between his bigger palms. Would Kojiro envelop them fully? Would they be soft to the touch? How strong are they really?
“...also…”
His lips. So far foreign to an honest smile, promising to bite and draw blood due to the temper. In a constant move now, word after word formed, but shit, wouldn’t it be better if they moved against Kojiro’s mouth-
“Kojiro.”
“Uh, yeah?” he immediately returns to the present.
Kaoru has murder glinting in his eyes. He caught him spacing out. “I said, no tight clothing like the one you came in today. Did you hear?”
Kojiro frowns and realizes that perhaps he should’ve made more effort to listen. He doesn’t like this rule. “Then what am I supposed to wear?”
It sounds dumb, but Kojiro isn’t aware of it immediately. After all, he knows the contents of his wardrobe, and now he has to think hard of anything wearable.
“Is an obnoxiously tight fit all you wear? Seriously?” Kaoru asks in a judging manner, scrutinizing Kojiro from head to feet.
Kojiro rolls his eyes. Who is this guy to slander his style? “Well, I also like wearing nothing,” he replies, light and suggestive, instead of falling for the provocation.
But Kaoru doesn’t give him any reaction.
“I don’t care. And I’m not repeating myself again. I hope you heard about limited gym sessions, among other things,” he deadpans.
This throws Kojiro completely off balance. Kaoru starts heading to the waiting room, so Kojiro dresses up as quickly as possible and follows him.
“Wait, what?”
Kaoru turns around and looks up into his bulged eyes filled with agitation. Like a kid that has been told off after taking away their computer access. Maybe that’s what makes Kaoru actually repeat himself despite his previous words — the funny, struck with horror expression on this big, buff man.
“Too much sweating is not advised during the first weeks.”
“But my condition,” Kojiro whines.
“Like you need it this much,” Kaoru mutters under his nose, eyes flicking to Kojiro’s biceps and broad chest.
However, the man is too consternated to notice he has just been checked out. Not to mention the unrecognizable, muffled words. “What?”
“Nothing.” Kaoru crosses his arms. “Follow everything for your own sake, understand?” He waits for Kojiro to bitterly nod, then continues, “In case a problem arises, contact me immediately.”
Kojiro perks up. “Contact you?”
“If anything happens,” Kaoru accents the first word.
That’s enough for Kojiro, who offers a warm smile. “Well, then I hope it does.”
“And I don’t,” Kaoru huffs, his nose wrinkled. As if the prospect of crossing his way with Kojiro would offend him.
But, Kojiro finds less venom in that sentence, in comparison to when they clashed for the first time. They chatted, unwinded after bickering for too long since that could tire anyone… and suddenly, Kaoru doesn’t look like he desperately needs to throw Kojiro out of the studio. Alongside sharp words, they found a mutual language.
“Well, I’ll be back anyway,” Kojiro persists after paying up. His poor wallet would probably resonate with Kaoru on that topic.
Said man rolls his eyes. A habit more and more often practiced around Kojiro. “Sure, like you won’t immediately run off to the first better person in sight.” The disbelief is omnipresent in his voice.
Oh no, definitely not. Maybe he’s flirtatious on a daily basis, and maybe he came across as such a person that would hit on anything that moves (not completely false), but it doesn’t mean he gives up quickly. Even if he’s not used to pursuing someone long-term, which Kaoru probably deduced already, he wouldn’t be surprised if he did just that. After all, hasn’t this guy seen himself in a mirror?
Besides, his personality isn’t something that scares Kojiro away. The more Kaoru encloses himself, the more Kojiro wants to carefully unseal him from the walls that hug him tightly.
The crush developed the moment red eyes met golden, and there’s no coming back from it now.
“You’d be surprised, Kaoru,” Kojiro teases. Truthfully, he’d prove him right on many occasions, but now — now Kaoru has become the definition of a beautiful exception.
“That’s arguable. And don’t call me that!” Kaoru snaps as Kojiro heads to the door, curses mixed with laughter inside the studio.
Surely, this is the beginning of their romantic relationship, right?