In the military, tattoos were taken very seriously and worn like badges of honor. They held more meaning than medals that were pinned to your chest like a rosette on the winning horse and left to collect dust in the bookshelf afterward. Medals only told success stories. Tattoos told more stories and left nothing out. Warts and all.
Especially warts.
Despite being with the army ever since his high school graduation Hajime had never gotten pierced deeper than the breast of his uniform. He had done enough tours to cover his whole body with stories, yet for some reason, he hadn't shared any of them on his skin where others could read them, too.
Not even the one that had ended his career. Although, you hardly needed a tattoo to tell it.
"Why did I have to come with you again?" Hajime asked when the truck pulled in front of the local tattoo studio. A little hole in the wall shop nestled between the gas station and the local office of the national bank.
Mattsun killed the engine and hung his sunglasses to the neck of his shirt. "Come on, it's good to have some fresh air. When was the last time you left the house, huh? Besides, you can help me with the shopping later."
"What, I'm gonna carry the groceries in my teeth?" Hajime said, but Mattsun had already climbed out of the car and slammed the door shut at his sneer.
The leather seat creaked when Hajime struggled to get the long, clumsy crutches out of the door and braced them firmly so he could slide carefully down from his seat. One of the many everyday things that people normally did without even thinking about it that had become a challenge he had to prepare himself for and plan beforehand. Mattsun waited for him on the curb checking his phone.
"Em asked us to pick something pretty for the girls while we're here. Something summery for the party. Maybe you could help me choose something."
"Why? Because I'm gay I automatically have a fashion sense?"
Mattsun took a long look at Hajime's worn out, sweaty marine t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. "I think you missed that class in the gay academy. Now, come on, I wanna introduce you to someone."
The electronic bell chimed when they opened the front door of the studio.
"Just a minute!" was hollered somewhere from the back.
The shop was bigger than what it had looked from the outside. They stood in a little entrance lobby that had a small reception desk loaded with thick folders and an open laptop, two closed doors behind it, a black two-seater sofa in front of the shop window, a full-length mirror in the corner, and the walls were covered with portrays of tattoo designs and certificates.
Hajime caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and quickly averted his eyes. He tested the couch in case it was the kind that would dip him too low before slumping down. The crutches he arranged to lean against the edge of the seat, and the room was so small they reached to the desk and split the small room in two. His side and everyone else's side. Do not cross.
The door on the right opened, and a tall young man stepped out. With a quick look, Hajime estimated he was about his age. He had a chocolate brown hair with an undercut, black pair of glasses propped on his nose, and he was wearing cut jeans, a loose white top with ink stains on it, and no shoes. A tattoo resembling The Great Wave on his bicep flexed along with the muscle.
His face immediately brightened when he recognized Mattsun, and he zigzagged from the behind the counter to shake his hand and pull him into a friendly hug.
"Man, it's good to see you," he said and slapped Mattsun on the shoulder.
"You too. The sun didn't scorch you to a crisp after all?"
The guy laughed and presented his forearm which, despite having a light tan, looked fair and smooth. There was another smaller tattoo inside his wrist, but Hajime couldn't make out what it was.
"It damn near did. I blew a third of my budget on sunblock alone."
"How was the trip? When'd ya get back?"
"Last Sunday, thought I'd take a couple days before coming back to work. And the islands were amazing! I sent you pictures, right?"
"Plenty," Mattsun said dryly. "Anyway, we're here for the show."
The guy picked up the laptop and his long, delicate fingers flew over the keyboard when he typed in something. "Yeah, yeah, I've been waiting for this." He lifted his gaze from the screen and looked at Mattsun with a small smile. "I can't believe it's the time already. It feels like just a little while ago when I did you the first one. Are you really gonna go through with it?"
"Yup, sent the resignation last week. This was my last tour."
"You're done with the army?"
"I'm done with the army."
"How long is this gonna take?" Hajime said from the sofa. Even to his own ears he sounded like a petulant child but couldn't muster up enough energy to care. "I've got places to be."
"You mean our living room couch is much different from that one?" Mattsun nodded at the sofa. "Sorry," he said to the guy, "the grumpy over there is my childhood friend and army buddy, Hajime. We served in the same places."
"Oh, cool," the guy said and reached his hand out. Immediately his eyes shifted to the bulky knot made of Hajime's sweater leg under his knee, then to the crutches, and back to the knot again. "My name is Oikawa Tooru, nice to meet ya."
Hajime nodded curtly and snatched his hand back after a quick shake.
"Tooru is – I think you could say he's the designated tattooist of the army. Everyone comes here."
Tooru raised his eyebrows at the high praises. "Oh, please, if it was everyone I wouldn't have to squeeze myself into this rathole. But yeah, I get a lot of you guys." He closed the laptop and set it back on the desk. "Shall we, then?"
"Yeah, let's get to it," Mattsun said and pulled off his shirt and tossed it to Hajime.
They disappeared into one of the backrooms, but the studio was so small Hajime could hear them clearly. Without having anything to do he closed his eyes and listened to them talking about the design and catching up on Tooru's trip and Mattsun's family. The tattoo machine buzzed in intervals in the background. Bzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzz-z. Bzz. It sounded oddly soothing.
He knew what Mattsun was getting. They had both done three tours together, and Mattsun had all of their dates tattooed on his chest, above his heart. Hajime had rolled his eyes at the cheesy idea when Mattsun had gotten the first date years ago, but none of his ridicule had made any difference. And now, he was about to ink the last tour, cut in short, into his skin.
The wart.
Bzzzzzz-zz. Bz. Bz. Bzzz.
"I was wondering," he heard Mattsun say, "what do you know about scar tattoos?"
The buzzing paused for a while. "You mean like having a tattoo to cover scars?"
"Yeah, have you ever done them?"
"A few. I did one couple months ago for a woman who had had breast cancer, and she wanted to cover the operation scar. I kinda like those projects even though scars mean something bad has happened. But because they break the smoothness of the skin it's almost like you can do 3D tattoos." The buzzing resumed. "Why? You have something in mind?"
Hajime opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Just now he noticed there were black-and-grey floral designs in the corners where the ceiling met the walls.
"No, just asking for a friend."
"Oh, okay. Well, ask them to drop by, and I'll check what I can do."
"How well do you think those kinda tattoos take?"
"It depends on the scaring, to be honest. Like, how well it's healed and how deep it goes. I should see it to tell for sure."
"What about amputations? You know like, stumps? Can you tattoo those?"
The crutches clattered and squeaked against the floor when Hajime hoisted himself up. He stood so fast he almost lost his balance but managed to gain it in the last second. The handles slipped grossly under his sweaty palms.
"It's boring here, I'll wait for you in the car," he hollered to the backroom.
"What? You're gonna have a heat stroke in there," Mattsun said.
"You've got AC."
"Fine," Mattsun sounded like he wasn't fine, but it wasn't worth the battle, "if you listen to the stereo, don't mess with the settings!"
"Yeah, yeah," Hajime muttered and awkwardly swung the front door open and tried to hurriedly wedge himself between before it closed. The handle dug into the small of his back painfully while he struggled to get through.
In the backroom, Tooru made sure he was gone before speaking again. "Let me guess, the friend you were talking about was him?"
Mattsun sighed. "Yeah. Sorry about that. He's not really an ass."
"No worries." Tooru wiped off the excess ink and leaned back to evaluate his work before resuming to hover over Mattsun's chest again. The tattoo gun continued to beat the numbers into the skin. "Is he alright, though?"
"He's in a rough place right now. Thought I'd get him out of the house even for a while."
"Do you think he'd want me to make him something?"
"Probably not, but – well, if you get the sudden inspiration you could maybe scribble something? I'll pay for it either way, of course."
"Yeah, sure. There's actually this one idea that popped into my mind as soon as I realized…his situation."
"I'd appreciate it."
Tooru lifted the glasses that had slid down with the back of his hand. Mattsun noticed a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his long neck. There was a battered fan spinning in the corner but without a proper draft it did very little, and the heat was oppressing.
"If you don't mind me asking, does it have something to do with you quitting?"
Mattsun looked at the needle spewing black ink into his skin and listened to the angry little bursts of buzzing. "Some of it, yeah."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. It's none of my business."
"It's okay. I actually think it'd be better if more people pried into his business. Maybe he'd snap out of it."