Thread by @sushib0mb, I bring to you this evening: Tattoo Artist Dazai and Patron Chuuya [...]

I bring to you this evening: Tattoo Artist Dazai and Patron Chuuya who gets one look at this goofy bandaged noodle man and flat out refuses to believe that the most beautiful, colorful, intricate designs and finished pieces hanging up along the parlor's walls belong to him

Chuuya, reluctantly sitting in his chair: are you /sure/ you know what you're doing???

Dazai: no this is actually my first time doing a tattoo by myself :P

Dazai: *accidentally drops his tattoo gun* oh! Whoopsies!

Chuuya: oh my god

Then one of the other artists walks over, a beautiful woman with a bob and a butterfly clip in her hair, and thumps Dazai on the head.

"Stop freaking him out, you idiot!" She yells at him before giving Chuuya a smile.

"He's just messing around. He may not look it, but he's--"

"--our top artist. The guy just has a fucked up sense of humor. He's insufferable."

Yet even with her assurance, Chuuya is still only half convinced that he's joking. This guy... nothing about him screams 'world class tattoo artist', but the stunning work covering the wall...

Chuuya supposes that it speaks for itself. And taking in some of the pictures in more detail-- Chuuya is surprised to see a particular one of Dazai hunched over the back of a known high-ranking Yakuza member in their town, coloring in the most intricate Koi fish he's ever seen.

And there's a couple more gangsters in the picture, all hovering around. Yet there is not an ounce of tension anywhere in the image.

Dazai is relaxed, completely unfazed by them or by the man he's currently inking. And they in turn look unworried for their superior's safety.

/Wow./

If the Yakuza trust him enough to let him do such heavy ink work on their superior, then he really must be talented.

Not to mention have balls of steel. He does not look intimidated at all.

Chuuya relaxes into the chair, feeling a little more at ease.

It's not like his design today is all that complicated; it's something he saw in the book outside and thought it suited him.

Rather, he's been on the hunt for an artist of Dazai's caliber to do a specific piece for him. And up until now, his search yielded few viable results.

It's one that is both detailed, and deeply personal. And one with which Chuuya needs to be certain he can trust the artist with.

When he saw Dazai's portfolio online, he was /moved/ with emotion.

His work... to say it's simply beautiful is a massive understatement.

It's provocative, evocative-- every piece he saw felt so...so alive, so storied.

And so /accomplished/. So when Chuuya walked into the parlor, the last thing he expected was someone so young, and so whimsical.

And so fucking goofy.

"So what kind of tattoo are you interested in getting today?" Dazai asks as he takes his seat alongside Chuuya's chair.

Chuuya quietly points to a small symbol amongst dozens in the book of designs the receptionist had given him before; a supposed symbol for good luck.

"Oh, that's it?" Dazai asks with an incredulous chuckle. "All that fuss for a good luck charm?"

Chuuya gives him a tight smile. "Well, you /did/ drop your tattoo gun... can't say I've ever seen such a clumsy tattoo artist. Can you blame me for being skeptical?"

Dazai just shrugs, still laughing that soft, wind chime laugh of his as he preps his gun.

"Where do you want it?"

"I guess it'll look good on the inside of my wrist."

"Okay... how big do you want it?"

Chuuya pauses in pushing up his sleeve, and looks up at him.

"Um, I guess the same size as in the book?"

"That's pretty tiny. You sure you don't want it a couple of sizes bigger? No point in getting it if you can barely see it."

Dazai gingerly takes hold of his wrist.

"It'll be about this big from book to skin," he says, measuring it

out with his fingertips. Then he opens the space just a fraction, for Chuuya to see the difference in size. "If you take it to about here, it'll come out better, but still be modest enough to be easily hidden."

Chuuya nods. He has to admit, the slight change in size makes a--

huge difference. He's right. It would actually look a lot better.

Slowly, he nods his assent. "Yeah...alright. That size is good, then."

Dazai nods. "Cool. Any particular color? Or usual black ink?"

"Usual is fine-- or actually, no, can you do it in red?"

Dazai nods. "Yup!"

And then he sets about prepping, first by switching out the ink in his gun to a different vial-- a bright red vial that looks kind of like blood, and then by prepping Chuuya's wrist. After he positions it to his liking, he cleans off the area with a couple of alcohol swabs.

Chuuya watches him, steadily growing more and more alarmed as he realizes that Dazai seems to be skipping one crucial step.

But he doesn't outright stop him, not until Dazai turns the gun on and the tip is hovering over Chuuya's naked wrist.

"Oi! Don't you use a stencil?!"

It is not just concerning, the look of complete bewilderment that comes over Dazai's face at his sudden outburst—it is utterly fucking terrifying.

Chuuya immediately shirks away, yanking his wrist right out of Dazai's careful grip with a noise of fear.

Dazai blinks owlishly.

"What?"

Chuuya growls, feeling his blood pressure steadily rising again. What kind of artist is this guy supposed to—

"A /stencil/, you doofus! You know, when you print out the design outline onto stencil paper and then place it on my skin? And /then/ you come in with the gun?"

"Why would I use a stencil for a simple design like that?" Dazai, once again, blinks at him silently, wide-eyed and clearly puzzled for a beat before he sighs in what Chuuya takes to be mocking amusement—which only pisses him off further— and sets the gun down.

"Oh yes, I forgot. You don't think I know what I'm doing."

"I don't," Chuuya snaps, "And clearly with good reason."

It's a cutting remark, but Dazai seems to take it in stride. He lets out another one of those sing-song laughs as he carefully reaches for Chuuya's arm and

sets it back in its original position in front of him.

"I take it this is your first tattoo, huh?"

Chuuya flushes. Is it that obvious?

"No! Maybe... yeah."

"Mm, I see, I see," Dazai leans closer, resting his forearms on his legs. "Well, let me explain this to you, then."

"If it were a complicated design, like one of those," he pauses to gesture to the pictures on the wall, "Of course I'd sketch it out for you first and transfer it, if you wanted me to. It is important to trust your artist with your designs."

Chuuya nods in agreement, relaxing.

And not just because of Dazai's placating explanation— his voice itself, his tone... there is something so soothing, so pacifying about it, Chuuya can't help but melt back into his seat.

Then again, Chuuya supposes, that if Dazai's had literal Yakuza in his chair—

—then by comparison, a moody and slightly skittish twenty-two year old haranguing him and questioning him wouldn't even raise his blood pressure.

"But listen, if my patrons wanted simple copy n' paste tattoos, they wouldn't come to me."

Dazai powers the gun back on.

"And this being your first time in my chair, your skepticism is understandable..." Dazai pauses to look up at him, giving him a sincere smile.

"But I do a fair amount of my work free-hand. And I certainly don't need a stencil, love. Not for something I can do in two minutes."

Despite the sudden and strange feeling that jars his heartbeat in his chest at that smile, Chuuya still has to scoff in disbelief.

"Two minutes. Really?"

Dazai doesn't miss a beat. "Yeah, really."

To be honest, it sounds like nothing but cocky bullshit.

Yet, when he looks at Dazai, he is staring at him expectantly, gun poised above his wrist, looking the farthest thing in the cataloged universe from cocky.

He's waiting, patiently, for Chuuya to give him the okay.

And after a moment, Chuuya swallows thickly and nods.

"Okay."

...and he wasn't lying.

In two minutes flat, a bright red tattoo sits on his wrist, slightly stinging and welting around the edges.

Chuuya is speechless, to say the least.

"I—"

Dazai, who is setting his gun down on tray, stops to look up at him. "Hm?"

But Chuuya is so caught up in staring at the design on his wrist—in awe of, not the just the speed in which Dazai did it, but the absolute precision of it— he can't find the words.

It feels different from the design in the book, though. Not different as in /wrong/, but...

Chuuya can't quite put his finger on it, but the more he stares at it, the more drawn in he gets. It has a certain... flare to it that the original picture didn't have, but Chuuya finds himself unable to wrench his eyes away from it.

To be honest, he's a little in love with it.

"Like it?"

Chuuya nods slowly, his previous anxiety and attitude all but dissipated, leaving it their wake honest appreciation for the remarkable talent of the guy sitting next to him— as well as a sudden swell of apologetic shame.

"It's stunning," He says quietly.

"I'm glad you like it. And to your credit, the red was a great choice," Dazai replies as he takes Chuuya's wrist and wraps the freshly done tattoo, to protect it. "It really makes the design pop."

"Sorry," Chuuya mutters, sheepishly watching Dazai wrap the clear plastic

over his wrist. "About doubting you. I was just worried I'd made a mistake."

"It's all good." Dazai accepts the apology with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Trust me, you're not the first. I'm used to it."

Chuuya smiles down at his wrist, eyes positively glued to his tattoo.

"It really is amazing," Chuuya can't help showering on the compliments now, hoping to make up for his previous nitpicking. "I can't believe you really did do it in two fuckin' minutes. That's incredible."

Dazai shrugs. "Thanks. Those little designs are pretty easy though."

"Yeah, but, like—" Chuuya pauses to turn his wrist, looking at the design from a different angle, "Somehow, you made it look way cooler than it does in the book. Like, it's practically popping off my wrist. I'm just... I love it. A lot."

Dazai sits quietly, humming happily.

Chuuya has to admit, the sudden dopey look that comes over his face as he takes in Chuuya's compliments...

...it's sort of cute.

/He's/ sort of cute, to be honest.

And, more importantly, he's the talent that Chuuya's been looking for. Of that, he is /more/ than sure now.

This was something of a test run, to really get a feel of Dazai —as both an artist, and as a person. And though his personality, frankly, leaves much to be desired, his raw talent and clear eye for detail and for beauty more than makes up for it.

Chuuya nods, determined.

"So, I guess I should just admit now, that this isn't really the piece I wanted."

Dazai looks at him strangely, one eyebrow quirking.

"Ah! What I mean to say is—" Chuuya continues quickly, "—is that this was kind of a trial run, um," he chews his lip before speaking again.

"A trial run," Dazai parrots.

Chuuya nods. "Yeah... I sort of just wanted to get a feel for you... you know, like how you are and how you work, I guess."

Dazai nods thoughtfully, considering his words as he cleans off his equipment. "Sounds reasonable to me. But what for?"

"Well, the thing is, I've been looking for the right artist to do a piece for me—one that I've been wanting to get for a while now. But it—"

Chuuya sighs. "It's really important to me. And I've been going through tattoo artists' Instagram portfolios obsessively—and I found—"

"—you found mine?" Dazai finishes for him.

Chuuya smiles, nodding. "Well, yeah. And all your pieces were so... I don't know, captivating? I guess? They were so different from the others that I'd seen before.... and now I really want you to do this piece for me."

"I'd be happy to, Chibi," Dazai says with a smile.

And while the 'chibi' almost certainly has the power to—and almost does—abruptly change Chuuya's mind, he fights the urge to smack the shaggy-haired man in the face.

"C-cool," He replies, smile as tight as the wrap on his arm.

"I have my four o'clock appointment arriving in a few minutes though," Dazai begins, tone surprisingly sincere and apologetic. "But I can have the receptionist set up a consultation appointment for you."

Pushing through the annoyance, Chuuya nods. "Yeah, that works."

"Great!"

With his equipment cleaned and ready for his next patron, Dazai shifts the rolling tray out of the way and stands up.

He extends a hand to help Chuuya up out of the chair, which Chuuya accepts—and deep down, he marvels at, not just Dazai surprising gallantry, but at how

soft and delicate his hands actually are. Long, willowy fingers, attached to a narrow, somewhat bony palm, which in turn connected to a wrist so thin and frail-looking that Chuuya is sure he could snap it without batting an eye.

The hand of an artist, Chuuya muses.

It is really beautiful, though. Like the rest of him.

Chuuya's thoughts are suddenly interrupted by Dazai's amused voice.

"Oi, Chibi...can I have my hand back now?"

Chuuya growls, face immediately growing hot as he all but throws Dazai's hand back at him.

"Sorry."

Dazai gives him a curious and annoyingly flirty smile that only serves to make the rest of Chuuya's body grow as warm as his face.

"That's okay," He hums, leading Chuuya back over to the receptionist's desk.

"Atsushi-kun!" Dazai taps the counter while loudly hollering to the

back room.

Like clockwork, a boy who looks only a few years younger than himself, and with... interestingly cut... silver hair, comes frantically dashing out of the back room in a flurry of apologies and nonsensical babbling, practically skidding to a stop in front of them.

"Dazai-san!" He says when he finally seems to catch his breath.

Chuuya looks from him to Dazai.

Huh. He must really be the head honcho around here, if the receptionist reacts like this to being called over by him.

Chuuya isn't sure whether to be impressed by that or not.

"Hi, Atsushi-kun," Dazai beams down at the boy with a smile that is like a thousand suns. "Would you be just the Best Receptionist Ever and set up my lovely client here with a consultation?"

Atsushi nods, though his cheeks are clearly tinted pink at the praise. "Of course!"

Chuuya had expected him to part ways after that, but to his surprise, Dazai hangs around as the receptionist goes through his computer, searching for an available time slot.

"When are you looking to come in again?" And, surprisingly, Dazai is the one to ask.

"Um," Chuuya looks from him to his receptionist, who is also waiting for his response, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "I guess some time later this week would be good?"

"How about this Friday?" Dazai suggests, resting his hand on Chuuya's back.

He turns to the receptionist. "I have an open time slot in the afternoon, right?"

Atsushi nods. "Yeah! There's a two o'clock slot open before that big three o'clock piece come in for his next session."

"Does that work for you, Chibi?"

Chuuya isn't listening.

In all honesty, the entire time they'd been talking, he's been focused on the weirdly pleasant warmth radiating from his back—from where Dazai's hand is still idly resting.

"Chibi?"

Promptly, Chuuya snaps out of it, willing himself to keep a straight face. "Sorry, what?"

"I have a two o'clock opening this Friday for your consultation," the receptionist says. "Is that a good day and time for you?"

"Oh, um, yeah. That's fine," Chuuya quickly replies.

"Wonderful!" Dazai says, smiling cheerily.

"And listen, would you quit it with the 'Chibi'? I'm not a kid." Chuuya snaps.

Yet seemingly unfazed by his gruff tone, Dazai once again smiles down at him. "My apologies... what shall I call you then?"

"My name is Chuuya."

Dazai nods, mouthing it to himself. "Chuuya."

"Yeah."

"Hm, I like it," Dazai nods with a soft noise of approval.

"Okay then, Chuuya. I will see you this Friday, two o'clock sharp. We can get to know each other a little better," he says with a wink, "and we'll talk more about the design you have in mind."

And with that, and before Chuuya has the chance to ask just what the /hell/ he means by 'getting to know each other better', Dazai waves him off with an effervescent smile and flits off, disappearing behind the heavy purple curtain separating the lobby and the work space.

When he's gone, Chuuya sighs tiredly and turns to the receptionist, who is just staring at him sheepishly.

"...is he always like that?"

The receptionist, Atsushi, gives him a sympathetic smile. "Yeah, pretty much. He grows on you though, I promise."

Chuuya clicks his tongue sarcastically. "Uh-huh. I'm sure."

He waits patiently while Atsushi enters the rest of his details. "I guess it's lucky for him he's so talented."

Atsushi laughs with him. "Yeah... Dazai-san is... a character. But he's good guy, really."

"I'll take your word for it," Chuuya snorts as he slides over his credit card.

"By the way, we take a five thousand yen deposit to hold your spot for the consultation. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

After processing his payment and setting up his appointment, Atsushi hands his credit card back, along with a card that is black and velvety on one side, the name of the shop embossed in the middle. On the opposite side, the details of Chuuya's appointment are outlined for him—

along with a separate sheet outlining instructions to care for his new tattoo, which Atsushi stops to briefly explain in more detail, given that this is Chuuya's first tattoo.

"'Kay, you're all set! We'll see you back here on Friday!"

Chuuya smiles back. "Great, thanks a lot. See you then!"

They exchange a friendly wave before Chuuya exits the shop, taking in a big inhale of fresh air.

As he turns to walk down the sidewalk, back towards the parking lot located at the rear of the shop, he runs his finger

along the new design on his wrist, physically unable to stop marveling at it.

And in his pocket, he grips a folded, worn picture tightly, his smile growing somber.

/He'll do you justice. I know he will./

///End Part One///

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