This chapter is dedicated to AspergianStoryteller.
I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I've been without internet for 48 hours and had to go somewhere with free WiFi just to post this.
POV Midorima
It starts out as a joke.
"I'm going to take a permanent marker and write 'property of Takao Kazunari' across your forehead. That way everyone will know you are taken."
"In English or Japanese?" I ask.
"Better be in English, just in case," he says, his lips drawn in and his head nodding.
"I'm not an expert on the language, but I have a feeling that my forehead will be too small of a canvas to fit that entire sentence," I say.
I stand before the closet in nothing but my underwear. I'm going through the closet looking for clothing that will be appropriate for the weather in New York. Takao is having fun at my expense, dressing me up in outfits and pronouncing them fit or unfit for my suitcase.
In general, Takao thinks my wardrobe is dated and too formal. When an outfit we create meets with his approval, he snaps a pictures, which he will upload to my phone so that I will not embarrass myself with poor clothing choices. While I pick out something else to wear, he folds the latest approved outfit and arranges it carefully in the open suitcase. According to websites, the average daily temperatures in New York in the summer is 26 degrees, so it will be slightly cooler there than here. He wants me to buy, and wear, blue jeans while I am in New York. He says they will make my ass look fantastic.
"Ok then," he stands, and puts his hands on my bare shoulders. "I'll write it across your back then." He traces the words in English across my skin. It tickles and I want him to continue touching me just like that, but he stops before I can say anything.
"Only there? What happens if someone approaches me from the front then?"
He twists around and stands before me, hands on his hips.
"That's a dilemma," he smirks. "I guess I'll have to write it here too, right above your heart." There is a marker in his hand, suddenly, and he scrawls his name in that spot.
"Did you write on my back as well?" I sigh.
"Of course I did," he grins. "But it's only a regular marker; it will come off in the shower." When I look in the mirror, I can see his name reflected back at me.
"How much does it cost to get a tattoo?"
POV Takao
Taboo be damned, once Shin-chan had made up his mind, it was only a matter of time.
"We'll be banned from certain hot springs and public baths," I tried to tell him.
"How many hot springs or public baths have we attended outside of training camps?"
"Lenders can reject a person because of a tattoo," I added.
"If I have to take my shirt off in order to secure a loan, we can safely say our situation has hit rock bottom, and we will have greater things to worry about."
"It will hurt," I said, pulling out my last good excuse.
"Tch," he said and turned his eyes on me. "No more than being apart from you for six weeks."
Ok, if he was going to get all romantic on me, I guess I had to go through with it.
We picked a parlor in Shinjuku run by three women and a gay guy. The woman who greeted us, disinterestedly listened to what we wanted. She gave us release forms to sign and took ¥60,000. Shin-chan had the money in cash, readied especially for this moment. It was a lot of money.
We're told to strip off our shirts and we were given a thin tipped marker. He carefully wrote the five individual kanji that made up his name on my chest. Another woman handed me a mirror and asked me if it was exactly what I wanted. It was neat and precise, almost like it was typed. It was a perfect representation of him.
"Yes, definitely," I told her.
I was handed the marker next and he sat down so I would have a better angle. I had practiced my four kanji all morning. He liked the loose, stylized version best so I did that. It curved slightly around the swell of his muscles. He refused the mirror.
"Is it right?" he asked me.
"I know how to write my name," I smirked.
"Then its fine."
An hour later, we walked out of the parlor with two matching bandages and instructions for aftercare.
"I can't believe we really did that," I said, as I sat across from him at the sushi place Shin-chan swears has the best wasabi in town. I didn't matter to me, I couldn't stand spicy things, but he was obviously pleased with the burn. I had a plate of eel in front of me and that was enough.
"Is it so unbelievable?" he asked, his chopsticks paused in mid-grab.
"How many eighteen year olds get tattoos with their lovers?"
"How many eighteen year olds already know who they are going to spend the rest of their lives' with?" he countered.
"We are lucky? Aren't we?" I asked. I held my free hand out and he took it, threading our fingers together.
"Man proposes, God disposes. We have made our own luck."