ASCLEPIAS


2022; panravenc.


CHAPTER IV

No Curses AU


It's Monday. Yuki has been very careful not to think much about it―lest she finds herself distracted and has an accident at work, or something. It's a test to her own work ethic, and to her capacity to concentrate when there's something clearly on her mind, but she manages.

Being a stuntwoman requires a certain amount of diligence―at least, enough not to die. In all the years she's spent between stunt and stunt, Yuki has only been to the hospital twice. Once, at the beginning of her career; the other, when there'd been a malfunction in the equipment and she'd ended up with a broken leg and bruises everywhere.

However, it's Monday 27th, and she's very close to calling it a day. In just a few hours, she'll be on a tattoo chair with his hands on her body and his gaze upon her skin, and Yuki just―

She sighs.

It's the last session for this tattoo. It covers her entire thigh, and colouring has taken a while. It's beautiful already, and she can't wait to see it done, knowing it will be as perfect as the rest. But, deep down, Yuki knows that the reason she keeps going back to that tattoo shop isn't for the artwork. It is, in part: he draws beautifully, whether on paper or on skin, and she's honoured to wear his art on her body.

But he's beautiful, too. His hands are gentle, nails covered in chipped dark polish, a ring or two adorning them in their drawing sessions. His eyeliner is always messy, his hair resembles a bird's nest most of the time, and he has dark circles under his eyes. He wears black clothes, or at least he's done so the days she's seen him, and he's covered in tattoos, sleeves and neck and letters in his fingers.

He's gorgeous when the light of the studio hits him right, and when it does not.

She might be getting lost on him.

(She knows she's beautiful, as well. His eyes track her body and he smiles when she cracks a joke, and he's not the only one. He has never been the only one: men have fallen at her feet countless times, and she has wanted some of them, even has loved a few. Still, there's something about him: about the way she wants to know what makes him laugh the most, how he sounds when he's lost in pleasure, about the way she wants to get into arguments with him only to talk it out, how she wants to show him her favourite places in the world and share with him the parts of herself she keeps under lock and key, learning about his in return.)

She's known him for a while, give or take a few months. And now that she knows she'll be staying in the city semi-permanently―since work is abundant at the moment, her services solicited―she wants to try.

Yuki knows herself perfectly―she doesn't like regrets. And him, he could be one.

She doesn't want him to.

"Hello?" She enters his studio, asking when there's no one in sight.

She catches him in another room with who he knows is his brother: a rose-haired boy with as much energy as a three-month-old puppy. Itadori Yūji, maybe? They have different surnames, so she isn't sure. The boy waves at her from behind the glass, and she waves back.

They get out in seconds, conversation seemingly over.

"Yuki-san," Chōsō greets her, a smile accompanying his words. "I'll be with you in a minute."

Yuki nods. She's a bit early, anyway. She scrolls down her phone, answering messages and liking photos from Instagram, until the brothers have said their goodbyes and the man she's been gone on for months is all hers.

"Sorry for the wait," he says, even though it's barely been a couple of minutes. "We can start whenever you're ready."

She smiles and winks at him. "Let's get it on, then."

He's quick when it comes to gathering his supplies, as he always is, and she's barely getting comfortable in the tattoo chair when he snaps on his plastic gloves and grabs a new needle for the machine.

"So," Yuki starts, licking her lips. "How's it been, pretty boy?"

And Chōsō, as he always does when she calls him that, huffs and wears a hint of a blush. It's one of the reasons she does it, witnessing those cheeks gain the slightest of the pinks, just beside the line tattoo that covers part of them in horizontal.

"I've told you already, don't call me that," he protests. "But it's been fine, thank you. How about you?"

He's not much about conversations, not really. He's more comfortable in silence, she's noticed it, but he follows her questions and engages on his own, and that's enough for her. Whenever she's silent for too long, he likes asking: about her hobbies, about the last TV show his brother dragged him to watch, about the new musicians in the radio station, about her favourite tattoos and the cities she's seen.

Yuki wants him. Wants to have a chance with him―not in bed, even though, yes, of course, but she could've had that months ago if it was all she was chasing, and it is not.

"It's been great," Yuki smiles. "Yesterday, my neighbour―"

Chōsō interrupts. "The grandma?"

"Yes, her," she nods, careful not to move her legs. "Well, she brought me bluefin tuna. Fresh, cut in thin fillets, I'm telling you, the whole she-bang. Apparently, her grandson had given it to her as a present, but it was too much for one person and she'd rather have me have it than let it go to waste."

He's got his eyebrows furrowed, mind focused on the tattoo on her skin. "I'm glad," he says after finishing a part, cotton taking away ink excess. "I wouldn't want it to go to waste, either."

Maybe, Yuki thinks. It's time to ask him out. He doesn't have a needle sinking onto her, and he's looking at her, a half-smile forming in his lips, his eyes dark even under the close light of the lamp. They map her own features, scanning for a flicker of pain, but even though getting a tattoo stings, Yuki's gone through a lot worse.

She likes it when his eyes are on her, she's found. When his gaze lingers. When he sneaks in a glance, through the glass or otherwise.

"It's delicious," she agrees, before deciding to take a leap and try. "But she's brought me a lot," she comments, relaxed. If he says no, then that's that. She doesn't think he will, though. Not when he looks at her like that.

He raises an eyebrow at her, a bit lost. "Is that a problem?"

"Is it?" She asks him back, amused.

"I would guess so," he answers, missing her rhetoric. "It would be a shame if you had to throw it away."

"Mm," she hums. And, as he's dipping down the ink, she continues: "It would. So, what do you say: want to help me out?"

He looks at her puzzled. "Help you out?" And he pauses. And he blushes. And he looks at her, surprise etched in his face. "Oh."

"Yeah," Yuki laughs, wanting nothing more than to lift a hand and caress his cheek. "Oh. Consider it a date, or not. I'd like to know you better either way."

She waits as he steams a response. She doesn't think she can go back from thinking he's beautiful: for his gentleness, for his professionalism, for the way her heart skipped when she heard him laugh for the first time. But if he only wants her as a friend, she can get past it.

She's got about a seventy-five percent of chance, she thinks.

A soft smile spreads across his features, and Yuki feels her pulse jump. The gods have given this man too much power over me, and she feels it like a truth.

"I think," he begins, slow, as if tasting the words in his mouth. "That a date would suit me just fine," he answers, a chuckle leaving his throat. He shakes his head, afterwards. "Let's finish the session first, though. We can talk more about it later."

And Yuki could jump and probably run a marathon right now, but she just nods, red staining her cheeks as a grin leaves the confines of her lips. "Good enough for me."

The conversation carries on, with Yuki asking about the boy from before, if it'd been his brother, and Chōsō answering yes, he was. He's wearing that exasperated yet fond smile she's seen in him only when talking about his brothers―the whole ten of them―as he explains to her that he'd been here to tell him he wouldn't be at dinner since he'd agreed to go to the cinema with a friend of his. And that, oh, by the way, if the school rings, it was Noda who started the fight, not me!

"Seems like a troublemaker," she comments, amusement clear in her face. "He must keep you on your toes."

Chōsō's expression turns fond at the thought. "Not really. It's the duty of the older brother to watch out for the younger."

Yuki wants to bottle up that smile. That warmth he radiates when he's talking about the people he loves.

She wants him to talk about her like that, someday.

The session is over before she knows it, the numbing pain of the needle finished and done with. She gets up and slips on her jacket, stepping out of the room alongside him.

"Well," she begins, looking at him as he leans back into the counter, fingers tapping the surface. "You already have my number. I'll send you my address in a few. Come by for dinner?"

He grins and tries to hide it. "The studio closes at seven tonight."

Unable not to, she closes in and kisses his cheek. "I'll be waiting, then." And, reaching the door, she turns over and smiles, cheeky. "See you soon, pretty boy."

It's the beginning of something. Maybe the middle of it. Yuki just knows Chōsō has been in her mind since the first time they met, and now that she knows she's staying in one place for an undetermined long time, she wants to know where it leads.

Where he leads her, and what memories will she make with him.

She's looking forward to it.