Chapter Text
Seiya keeps a set of magazines under his bed. They're stuck in a cardboard file box he wrote 'KNICKNACKS' on. The spelling is supposed to deter thieves. He wouldn’t say he’s ashamed of them, but there’s a reason they stay under his bed and not on his shelves.
The stories inside feel foreign. They’re all of men in bath houses, in theaters, in dingy alleys. They wear leather and latex, uniforms of all kinds. It’s always men with other men.
He’d never done anything like that. Not in private, and certainly not in public. Seiya’s never gathered the courage to do anything below the belt, worried that what they found there wasn’t to their liking. The stories in his magazines had no attachment to his lived reality. They were fun fantasies to think about, but he knows they'd never happen.
The only thing reminding him that these men were real were the last pages.
At the end of these magazines, he finds a section dedicated to those seeking companionship. The first part is questions from other readers. They're not particularly groundbreaking questions, but "the purpose in using them was to break the victim's bones if he didn't confess, or whatever" always got a giggle when he read it. After the Q&A is the classifieds. The classifieds in his most recent issue take up 10 whole pages. They mostly serve the United States, with a section for each individual state, but this issue has people looking for companionship in places like England, Germany, and today, for the first time, he sees Japan.
On the very last page, under ‘INTERNATIONAL’, then ‘JAPAN’:
BUZZ CUTS & MORE
Barber, fair, gdlk, expert with straight razor. ISO G/Bi rebel boy in 20’s willing to become a man. Shave head, body, both, tidy up head or body hair. Travel often. 55612
He’s never thought about calling one of these people. It’s two dollars a minute to get in contact, and he’s not looking to have that attached to his credit card. On the other hand, the forbidden fruit is finally in reach.
Looking for a boy willing to become a man. That’s him. It’s Seiya they want.
If he could write a response for the next issue, it'd go something like this:
23, good boy, needs a barber to break me in. 89114
Except, Seiya isn't into whatever this guy's offering.
He puts the magazine under his bed.
It's been a 10 days since he got that magazine in the mail, which means it's been months since it's come out in the States, which means the original person had submitted it months before that. This barber doesn't exist anymore, or he's preoccupied with someone who could respond quicker than Seiya.
Still, the thought lingers. What if he gets there first? What if Seiya's who they're looking for?
But, he's not into this stuff.
He supposes he can call. It'll be five minutes at most. He has the money to spare. There's no reason why he can't be curious, at the very least. He can ask a question or two and disappear forever. They never see each other's faces, and within a day neither would be able to pick out the others voice. It's as anonymous as it gets.
Seiya fishes the magazine out from under his bed. Page 71. INTERNATIONAL, JAPAN. He stares at it. He stares some more. His mouth dries as he goes to his phone, holding the magazine. He dials the number for the ‘tough line,' and then idles as he stares at the magazine again. 55612. On the opposite end is someone like him. A little strange, probably homosexual, and a barber. Okay, Seiya’s not a barber himself, nor is he immediately interested in getting his hair cut for sexual reasons, but...
5-5-6-1-2. Each number seems to take minutes to press.
Then it rings.
And rings.
And rings.
And no one’s on the other end.
Seiya lets out the breath he’d been holding since he left his bedroom. No answer. His life continues to be normal. Average, aside from the magazines.
The magazine falls out of his hand and lands on its pages. He pushes it away with his foot, then winces. He probably wrinkled some of the pages, and it was kind of really expensive getting these magazines sent overseas. (He spends way too much money on this, and doesn't want to admit the annual costs.) Seiya tries to pick it up with his foot, because his hands are busy with the phone and he clearly hasn’t learned his lesson.
On the last ring, the phone crackles to life.
“Hello.”
Oh.
He drops the magazine a second time and steps on it. Suddenly the phone is slippery in his hands, falling out of his grip as he breathes into the receiver.
“Hello?” They sound different than he’d expected. He thought it’d be some growly, gruff, no-nonsense man. Whoever’s on the other end... sounds like him. The voice is deeper, but it’s slightly strained with effort to keep it at that depth.
“Hi,” Seiya says, like an idiot. “I want a haircut.”
“Oh?”
“Just a trim. I like my hair.”
“Okay.”
The conversation continues like that. Seiya rambles, draining his bank account as he tries to talk around the actual subject. The other person, 'Kou,' listens and responds with short, clipped words.
Kou has an apartment nearby. He doesn’t know if Kou actually lives in it, but it’s where Kou works.
He says he’ll come. Just once.
Seiya walks in with a literal mane of hair. It’s shorter on the top, curling around his forehead and framing wide blue eyes. He gets quite a few compliments about those eyes, thank you very much. The back is long enough to rest on his shoulders. It’s a hairstyle that takes too much time in his day to maintain. It's worth it, because people think he looks like a rock star.
The man that greets him at the door looks normal. And tall. Very tall.
His hair is much neater than Seiya’s. It’s slicked back, curling at his neck. There isn't a single hair on his chin. He wears glasses and a light purple button up shirt. The loose clothing makes for a relatively sexless figure. Seiya was, again, expecting someone else. He imagined someone broader, in a studded leather jacket. This guy looks like he belongs in an office building. No, a poetry event.
He looks like a nerd.
“My name is also Kou," Seiya says. He has forgotten how to greet people. Usually they start with a hi or hello. Maybe a how are you. Usually, he remembers.
Kou takes it in stride. His lips morph into the slightest of smiles. Seiya wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't staring at his lips. There's an indent where his teeth must've been worrying for years. “But I’m calling you Seiya? It’s not fair that I get the name and you don’t. I’ll be Taiki.” He’s not sure if Taiki’s actually his name, but he probably isn't allowed to ask that question.
Taiki takes him inside, and it's still normal. There's a barber's chair sitting in front of a desk. He can see a wide variety of tools laid out. An assortment of scissors and clippers, a clear jar of barbicide. There's a pack of disposable blades for a straight blade he has yet to see sitting on top of a towel. There's no mirror in front of the chair.
The two of them make no small talk. Seiya’s too nervous, and Taiki’s too polite.
Seiya is used to a mirror in front of him. He keeps trying to look into it, to see what Taiki’s doing to him. Instead, he’s forced to trust that Taiki’s doing what he said he’d do. He realizes this means he can't see Taiki either. There's no time to study this stranger.
Seiya leaves with his mullet in better shape than before. He's not sure what he expected.
Taiki invites him back.
"Dry or wet?"
"What?"
"How do you shave?"
He doesn't. "Wet."
Taiki shaves his pits. The next step is probably supposed to be his facial hair, but there's hardly anything to work with. His sideburns get unruly without a trim, but the rest is peach fuzz. It would make for a short afternoon.
He has Seiya hold his arms in the air while he works. "I don't even have to wet your hair... it's virgin soft." Taiki's face is inches away from his armpit, examining the thick foam covering it.Virgin soft. Seiya replays that in his head while he works on him. Unlike the haircut, he can see everything happen right before his eyes. The straight razor inches up his inner arm and leaves goosebumps behind. Before it's all gone, Taiki pets it. Seiya can see the way the wet hair curls around his fingers, cut strands pulling away with his hand.
When he starts on the other pit, sweat has mixed with the foam. It drips down his side until Taiki towels him dry at the end.
The skin underneath is paler than what's around it. Seiya never wears sleeveless shirts, and knows that no one will see the difference, but he feels it. He feels naked. The thought follows him around for awhile. Virgin soft. Naked. Virgin soft... He misses his stop on the way home, and walks an extra mile to get back.
Taiki's clothing choices change as time goes on. Tonight, he wears thick black work pants and a tank top that clings to his figure. Seiya notices that Taiki's slim. Underneath the button ups was a person whose only exercise is daily life. Seiya's noticeably bulkier than him.
Seiya doesn’t know what Taiki’s getting out of this. He doesn’t know what he’s getting out of this. The thought plagues him as he sits in the chair and stares at the wall. The sound of Taiki's scissors cutting through his hair echoes in his head the whole time. It's the only thing he can really focus on. When Taiki holds his head down to work on his neck, he is given a second thing to focus on. An ocean of black hair circles his chair, curling around Taiki's feet. The floor has nearly faded away underneath the bulk.
The second haircut is much, much more drastic than the first. His mullet is trimmed down until it’s ear length. The only thing left untouched is a longer strip at the base of his neck. Taiki fashions it into a ponytail, wrapping it with cloth.
“I like this better for you.” Taiki's fingers brush across the ponytail and give it a brief pull. "I think I'll let this part grow out more."
Seiya nods.
Everyone asks him what happened when he dares to show his face in public again. They act like he's dying, or maybe in crisis. Seiya struggles to make the choice make sense. He settles on 'trying something new,' but anyone who's met him knows he's spent years curating his look. The excuse falls flat every time. No one asks a follow up question. He wouldn't be able to make any more excuses.
Seiya spends a long time inspecting himself in the mirror. Night after night, he looks at his short hair. He pulls at the ponytail, tugs the cloth loose. The haircut hasn't answered any questions or desires, only created more.
Seiya wears a jockstrap this time. There’s a pocket sewn in to keep his packer in place. He thinks it looks realistic enough.
Taiki has him stand in the middle of the room. There’s finally a mirror. A full length mirror stands on the opposite end of the room, far enough to capture Seiya, Taiki, and the equipment around their feet in its lenses. Seiya's stance is wide, accommodating Taiki's work between his legs. First he uses scissors to trim the longer hair, and tufts of black fuzz fall into Taiki's lap and the floor. Then comes the foam. It's pleasantly cold.
The blade is smooth against his skin, leaving it bare in its wake. The straight razor shines as it works up his legs. He forgets to breathe when its light blinds him. Seiya looks away and toward the mirror. Seiya's half shorn legs bracket around Taiki, still kneeling at his feet.
“We’re not so different, Seiya." His fingers skim over smooth thighs, lingering more the closer he is to his cock. Seiya's starting to get nervous, wary that Taiki will nick him.
Seiya remembers to breathe again. His breath shakes with his heartbeat. “How?”
“I think we see the world differently than most. Some people see this as a violation. Their hair, especially so close to their manhood, is sacred. Getting rid of it is sacrilege. The absence makes them weak."
Eventually the hair on his thighs is all gone. Taiki stands behind him while he examines himself in the mirror. His legs are bare from the tips of his toes to the top of his thighs for the first time. Between his legs is little more than his jockstrap. "Stripping that hair off is a symbol of control." Seiya finally looks at Taiki's reflection instead of his own. His face is blank next to Seiya's twitching, flushed expression. He feels naked again.
He feels it for weeks. The hair comes back slowly, itching the whole time. It scratches his thighs whenever he walks, catches on every fabric that brushes over it. It’s hard to sleep at night. He can’t get comfortable. All he thinks about is Taiki and the straight razor. He thinks about calling again, asking for him to make it go away. He has an actual phone number now, so it won't even cost him. Maybe Seiya will take the wrong train tomorrow and end up at his doorstep to beg without warning.
He doesn't know why he doesn't do anything about it himself.
Taiki's wearing less.
He wears the same work pants, and no tank top. It reveals a soft chest, holding more fat than the rest of his body.
In front of the mirror, Seiya pulls his shirt up slowly. It's almost agonizing, how long it takes to reveal his stomach. Seiya says nothing grows past that point. Taiki doesn't question it, and rubs foam into his skin. He works in silence while Seiya holds the shirt just beneath his chest. A strip of skin, shades lighter than the rest, barely peaks out from under the shirt.
The strokes of Taiki's blade are longest across the top of Seiya's stomach, carving out large swaths of his hair. The strokes get shorter as he drags lower and the hair grows coarse. Seiya begins to fidget once the straight razor dips below his belly button. Taiki has to hold him to get it to stop. His left hand clamps around Seiya's thigh the rest of the day to keep his leg from bouncing.
“Some men don’t go this far. Most don’t. They’re afraid of sheering away the animal parts of their masculinity. That I’ll take something from them.” Taiki’s voice is lighter today. He notices that it’s gotten a touch higher every time he comes. “It’s different from the hair on their heads. They let me shave their heads.” He only stops when the blade touches the elastic band of Seiya’s briefs. His eyes meet the straight razor. He can see himself in it, past the foam drying on the edge. He's different now. “They’re scared." The blade digs underneath the band. It sits for less than a second before Taiki pulls out. "Are you scared?”
Seiya's already begun to itch again. "Yeah."
A bruise the shape of Taiki's hand blossoms on his leg that night. It's hard to see outside of direct light. Disappointing. Seiya watches it fade into a soft yellow and disappear in half a week.
On the fourth night, Seiya gets a call.
"I want to shave your whole body."