Nejire didn't know what compelled her to step into the tattoo parlor that day. She passed the place every time she walked to the coffee shop, and she glanced over the familiar logo in the window; a white eye mask with the word "Stain" below it in red letters. What she hadn't noticed before was a small sign propped below it on the windowsill.
Ask about our FREE scar cover-up tats!
She'd never thought about covering her scars with tattoos. She usually just wore clothes to hide them. It was almost a hundred degrees out today, yet she was wearing long sleeves and full length yoga pants. There were a lot of scars on her body. If she got tattoos to cover all of them, she might be more ink than skin. Somehow that didn't cross her mind before she was pushing open the door and walking inside.
As she glanced around the small entryway, she realized that the walls were covered with art prints of tattoo design sets. Some of them were laughably cliche; an anchor with a ribbon reading "mom" or retro-looking pinup girls. Others were surprisingly unique; silhouettes of faces or animals, all kinds of flowers, zodiac signs, and much more.
"Hello there," a voice said, and she spun around. It was a thin guy with shaggy, pale hair covering his eyes. "Do you have an appointment?"
Out of habit, Nejire pulled her hair over her right cheek, trying to hide the scars scattered there. "No, sorry, I was just looking."
"Go right ahead." His voice was strained, like he had a sore throat. "Do you have any questions?"
"Actually… I saw the sign in your window… about scar cover-up?"
He smiled, his lips stretching wide. "Wonderful. Can you stick around? One of our artists should be free soon for a consultation."
"Oh, okay, I guess so." Nejire suddenly noticed that this guy didn't have any visible tattoos. She wondered if you were allowed to work in a place like this and not partake.
"I'm Tomura, by the way. Why don't you come on back?"
She followed him around a partition. Heavy metal music blasted over the speakers. Now she could see the rest of the place. There were half a dozen workstations where the artists were working on people. Some of the stations had adjustable chairs that looked like something from a dentist office. Others had a tall, cushioned platform like a massage table. Not everyone was getting tattoos done; some people were getting things pierced. Nejire tried not to stare.
Tomura led her to a cozy sitting area in one corner. "Make yourself comfortable, it shouldn't be long."
Besides a couch and armchair, there was a minifridge, and a coffee table covered in photo albums. Nejire sat down and flipped open one of the albums. It was full of finished tattoos. She turned a few pages, and she was quickly impressed at the variety; not just the designs themselves, but the styles. Some had the bold lines and saturated colors that seemed more typical, others were monochrome designs with a more muted look, and some were so intricately detailed that the ink almost looked like paint. It suddenly clicked for her why these people were called artists. She got so caught up in looking through the albums that she lost track of time.
"Miss?" Nejire jumped. She had been so focused that she hadn't noticed Tomura's return. "Sorry, didn't mean to frighten you. Dabi is just finishing up and he'll be right over."
Nejire looked where he gestured to one of the artists, who was wiping down a finished tattoo. He had spiked black hair, and there was an unusual look about him. His skin appeared to be two distinctly different colors, alternating in large areas. He also had a lot of piercings. Nejire watched him take a few photos of his finished work, both he and the customer visibly happy with the results.
Tomura approached the artist; Dabi, he had called him. They exchanged a few words, but Nejire couldn't hear them over the music. Then Dabi looked her way. Nejire took a sharp breath as their eyes met. Even from here, she noticed his startling blue eyes. He seemed familiar. Tomura talked some more, and Dabi nodded. He shook hands with the customer, then headed toward Nejire.
She stood, clasping her hands nervously. Suddenly she wondered what she was doing. This place was clearly busy. Why was she wasting their time? Maybe she should just leave now; apologize, and leave.
Dabi gave her a nod. "Don't get up, we can just chill right here."
"Okay." She sat back down, feeling stupid.
He opened the minifridge. "You want anything? We've got water, soda, juice…"
"Water is fine," she said. Mentally, she scolded herself. Now she wasn't just wasting their time, but their money too.
Dabi handed her a bottle of water. He sat down on the couch beside her and cracked open a can, closing his eyes as took a long chug. Nejire stared at him. The lower half of his face was a dark, scarred patch of skin. There was a row of silver piercings along where the damaged skin met the lighter, normal skin. Nejire felt a little better about her own scars; then she immediately felt guilty for thinking so.
He set his drink down on the coffee table. "Tomura says you're here about scar cover-up. That's my specialty, if you don't mind me bragging." He gestured to himself with a grin. "I find that people are less self-conscious about their own scars when they see mine."
"Yeah, I get that." Nejire said. Then she scrunched up her face. "Sorry, that was rude of me."
Dabi laughed. "Not at all. Would you mind showing me yours?" He reached up to brush her hair back.
She jerked away, ducking her head. Her stomach clenched up.
"That's alright." He grabbed one of the photo albums and flipped it open. "I can cover just about anything, but I can't really plot out a design until I know what I'm working with." He turned the album around towards her. Nejire felt her mouth drop open. There were delicate tattoos over mastectomy scars, comical tattoos on injury scars, page after page of breathtaking work. She glanced up to see him watching her. He had a confident look in his eyes. "Whatever you've got, I promise I've seen worse."
Nejire took a deep breath, and kept her eyes on the album. "I was in an accident. Now I hate the way I look. I never…" Her voice was getting thick, and she mentally berated herself. Do not cry in front of this man. "If I had to pick one to start with, it would be here." She rolled up her left sleeve to the elbow. Dabi gently took her arm in his hands, leaning in for a closer look.
Across her inner arm, just below her wrist, were three white lines. These weren't her ugliest scars by far, but they were the ones that got her the most uncomfortable reactions from other people.
Dabi turned her wrist this way and that, pressing on her skin with his fingers. "I can do a lot with this," he said softly. "The skin is pretty smooth, and the lines are thin enough that they'll be easy to hide." He let go of her arm and picked up the album again. "My first thought is something… like this." He pointed to a photo.
Nejire's breath caught in her throat. The tattoo in the album was also on someone's forearm. It was a thin branch with leaves forking out in different directions. It was simple, but pretty. She looked up at Dabi, ready to agree. Except, when she met his eyes, she hesitated. "It's nice, but…"
"Not the one?" He put down the album, and faced her. "Alright, now don't think about this too hard. What's the most important thing in your life?"
"Dance," she said automatically. Then she scowled, and shook her head. "It used to be," she corrected herself.
"Before your accident?"
Nejire had already forgotten she'd told him that. "Yes." She felt tears burning in her eyes.
He nodded slowly. Then he dug into his pocket and pulled out a black sharpie. He held out his hand, palm up. "May I?" Nejire gave him her arm, and Dabi uncapped the marker. It tickled as he drew on her skin, and she had to concentrate not to wiggle. After a few moments, he sat back. "Just a basic idea, but what do you think?"
Nejire looked at her arm. Dabi had drawn a treble clef with graceful, looping curls. The lines of the music staff behind the clef neatly covered her scars. She let out a shaky breath. "It's perfect," she whispered, blinking back tears.
"You wanna go for it?" Nejire nodded tearfully, and Dabi smiled. "Let's get you on the books, then." He led her back out to the front, where Tomura was perched on a stool behind the counter, squinting at the computer screen. Dabi tapped his knuckles on the countertop. "Hey man, when's my next opening?"
"Hmm, looks like…" Tomura clicked around. "Actually, you had a cancellation tomorrow at four."
Both of them looked at her. Nejire took a slow breath. "Yeah. Let's do it."
"A tattoo?" her roommate, Toga, squealed when Nejire told her.
"Do you think it's a bad idea?"
"No, it's great!" Toga grinned. "It'll give you that edgy vibe." She grabbed Nejire's arm again to look at the drawing on her wrist. "You want me to come with?"
"That's okay. I know how you are with needles." Toga wasn't squeamish, but seeing other people in pain sometimes got her a little too excited. She didn't have any tattoos, but she loved piercings and other body modifications.
Toga pouted. "I would do it for you."
Nejire had to smile. "I know. I appreciate that."
Toga treated Nejire like a best friend, but if Nejire was honest, they barely knew each other. Perhaps that made them better roommates. Besides, Toga was the only person Nejire knew here in Las Vegas.
When Nejire had decided to leave New York City, Toga had offered up her spare room, and that was all the push Nejire needed.
Coming here had made practical sense. It was warm, which helped with her chronic pain; somewhere cold like Chicago would make it worse. Also, the cost of living was cheaper in Vegas than most big cities. With the outrageous rent in New York, her settlement would have been used up in a few short years. So at Toga's offer, Nejire had moved across the country to live with someone she hadn't seen in almost ten years.
Toga had gotten Nejire a job at the strip club with her, but only waiting tables. Toga made more than enough money to not need a roommate, but she liked the company. She often tried to convince Nejire to try a night on stage, but there was no good way for Nejire to hide her scars while wearing so little clothing.
Ironically, Nejire had always planned on being a dancer. She got her degree in performing arts, and was hired as a soloist in one of the top ballet companies in New York City. Then she lost all of it in a split second.
That night, Nejire had the dream again; the same exact one she'd had ever since the accident.
"Nejire!" Her friend, in the driver's seat, was screaming her name. When Nejire opened her eyes in the mangled car, there was no pain yet; she was still in shock.
Her right arm was pinned by the side airbag. The side of her face felt wet, and when she reached up to touch it, her fingers came away red.
She could faintly hear sirens in the distance.
In the passenger seat, Nejire had taken the brunt of the impact. Through the shattered car window, Nejire could see the other car crumpled against theirs, smoke coming from its engine.
Alone in her bedroom, Nejire woke in a cold sweat. She kicked the blankets off and sat up, trying to ground herself. The phantom smell of oil and burnt rubber began to fade. That was in the past. She was here now. It was over.
The afternoon before her tattoo, Nejire's nerves were so bad that she couldn't eat lunch. Before she left the apartment, she dug out her bottle of anxiety pills. It wasn't a very long walk to the tattoo parlor, so the meds wouldn't kick in until after she got there.
She arrived ten minutes before her appointment. Tomura spotted her, and motioned her around to the back without any formalities. Nejire sat in the waiting area and looked around. She didn't see Dabi anywhere. Instead, her attention was drawn to a couple of girls getting navel piercings. They were holding hands and laughing, and it made her wish she had brought Toga along.
Dabi soon appeared from the back of the space. He noticed her right away, and headed straight over. "Hey, Tiny Dancer!"
Nejire frowned. "What?"
Dabi chuckled. "I didn't catch your name yesterday, so I put you in the system as Tiny Dancer. You know, like the song?"
Nejire bit back a smile. The nickname was kind of adorable.
"I'm glad you showed. I was half worried you might change your mind."
"I considered it," she admitted. "But I don't like to disappoint people."
"Well, I just finished my break, so if you're ready, we can get started."
He led Nejire to one of the dentist chairs, and she tried to get comfortable. He unwrapped some metal equipment from a plastic bag, and Nejire was surprised at how sterile it all was. She peered at the tray table where his supplies were arranged. She briefly worried if she should have done more research, but she didn't want to back out now.
Dabi put on black disposable gloves and held up a jar of ointment. "This is numbing cream. I recommend it for newbies, especially with this placement. The skin here on your inner arm is very thin, and there's no muscle or fat underneath, so it tends to hurt more." Nejire nodded, and Dabi rubbed some of the stuff onto her arm. He picked up the little tattoo machine he had assembled, then he looked up at her, his blue eyes locking with hers. "Ready?"
"Yep," she said. The anxiety meds were starting to kick in, and Nejire was feeling more relaxed. Dabi switched on the machine with a loud buzz. She didn't look away as he brought it to her arm. She felt the needles make contact with her skin. It wasn't quite what she was expecting. It didn't feel like getting a shot; it was more like an annoying sting. She watched as he traced over the first line of the music staff, just above her scars.
Dabi paused, and glanced up at her. "You doing alright?"
"How do you make such a straight line?"
He chuckled. "Practice." The next line was directly on her scar. This one hurt a little, and she sucked air in through her teeth, but she didn't flinch. Dabi looked up again to check on her, then went on to draw the next line, and the next. her scars were now covered. When he drew the fifth line, it didn't hurt at all.
Dabi set the tattoo gun down for a moment, sprayed her arm with something, and wiped it down, peering closely at his work. Then he looked up at her. "So far, so good. How are you feeling?"
"A little dizzy," Nejire admitted.
"Hang on, I'm gonna lean you back." He did something to the controls of the chair, and it slowly reclined. "What did you eat today?"
"Um, nothing actually. I was too nervous."
"Shit."
"Is that bad?"
Dabi was scowling. "Your body needs calories before a tattoo. Did you even read the info packet?"
"Yes." She had skimmed it.
"Just try not to pass out, alright?"
"What happens if I do?"
"You'll have a bitch of a headache."
"Oh." He sure didn't sugar coat it. "I won't pass out."
"Let me go see what we have." Dabi disappeared for a minute, then came back with a little package of cheese crackers and a bottle of juice. "Eat up." He proceeded to cross his arms and stare Nejire down until she finished all the crackers and half of the juice.
"Happy now?" she asked, holding up the empty package.
"Feel better?"
"Yeah. Can I sit up now?"
"Nope, you're gonna stay right there." He moved his stool around to get closer to her arm with the chair leaned back. Then he pulled on fresh gloves. "Ready?" he asked.
"Ready," she answered. This time she didn't look as Dabi brought the needle to her skin. It hurt, but just barely. Her dizziness was almost gone, and her nerves had settled completely. She could almost imagine what part of the design he was tattooing from the feel of the vibrations on her skin.
Then a sharper pain cut through the dullness. "Ow," she grumbled.
"I'm going across the parts I already tattooed. You're doing great."
Nejire closed her eyes. The loud, abrasive music was distracting. It wasn't anything like what she normally listened to, but it helped keep her mind off the nonstop sting in her arm. It left her feeling oddly relaxed, like she was in a trance.
Cooking shit up with the heat up high
With your middle fingers up, let the cops stroll by
No motherfucker here is drunker than I
And if we get crunked enough, we can set it on fire
"What band is this?" Nejire wondered aloud.
It took Dabi a second to pull his focus from his work. "Oh, it's Hollywood Undead. You like it?"
"Mmm." Nejire started to doze off, and her head jerked up as she woke herself. She glanced over to see if Dabi had noticed.
The corner of his mouth curled up. "We're almost done." Nejire tried to look at the tattoo, but Dabi shifted to block her view. "Ah, patience," he scolded, his voice low and gravely. Before long, he turned off the tattoo machine, and rinsed off her arm with a cool liquid before wiping it down roughly with a cloth. Nejire winced each time he rubbed over the tender skin. He rinsed it a few more times until he was satisfied. "Okay, go ahead."
The tattoo was even more beautiful than she had hoped. Nejire was expecting it to look exactly like the marker drawing, but it was far more elegant. She couldn't even see her scars, despite knowing where they were beneath the ink. "I love it," she whispered.
"Glad to hear it. Now I want to get some shots for the album." Dabi positioned her arm and took a few photos with his phone. "Do you care if I post it online?"
"Sure," Nejire said, trying to act casual. He must really be proud of how it turned out, to want to share it with potential customers.
After Dabi finished taking pictures, he coated the tattoo with ointment, then covered it with a clear wrap, taping down the edges. Finally, he faced Nejire again. "You implied that you have a lot of scars. Do you want to talk about more cover-ups?"
Nejire thought for a moment. If she got the scar on her leg covered, she could wear shorts again. If she did either the one on her collarbone or her upper back, she wouldn't always have to wear such high-necked shirts. She hooked her fingers in the neckline of her shirt, pulling it aside to expose the scar across her right collarbone.
He frowned. "Working directly on this bone can be painful. If you have others, I'd rather put this one off for later."
"Okay." Nejire pulled her knee up, rolling up the bottom of her pant leg. On her shin was a narrow white scar, about as long as her hand.
Dabi leaned close, touching just below the scar. "That's more like it. Plus it won't hurt nearly as bad. Did you have any ideas, or do I get to choose again?" He gave a mischievous smile.
Nejire found herself smiling too. "Well, I'd love something else music-related, maybe with flowers or birds?"
"Hmm. That has a lot of potential." Dabi was silent for a moment, his expression serious. "Let me work on some sketches. Stop by next week and I'll show you what I come up with."
"Thank you." Nejire dug in her bag, and held out some cash.
Dabi put his hand up to stop her. "Nope, it's on me."
"I know. It's a tip! Come on, I insist."
Begrudgingly, he took the bills and shoved them in his pocket. "Fine, but don't make it a habit." He started to clear off his supplies. "Take good care of that; you should actually read the instructions this time. I'll see you soon, Tiny Dancer."
Author Note: There's a lot of music in this fic so I want to thank everyone who helped with suggestions. The song playing during Nejire's first tattoo is Riot by Hollywood Undead, which I owe to juliefiction on TikTok!
