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Nanba’s time on the streets had made him a very light sleeper. Even the slightest sounds coming from the street below jolted him awake, leaving him laying alone in the dark and listening to the stable snoring from the futon next to his. One of those moments was now, as Nanba had his hands behind his head. Usually he had little trouble falling back asleep, but tonight he just couldn’t quite catch the REM rams. He had not bothered to put his glasses on there being very little to see around him. The small room upstairs the Survive Bar’s Master had provided them was as messy as you could expect from two guys living there, but it definitely wasn’t filthy. He and Kasuga were extremely grateful for the roof over their heads, and they most definitely would not disrespect the Master’s kindness by absolutely trashing the place. However, he was not the tidiest and Kasuga was definitely too scatter-brained to keep the place neat.
Nanba rolled onto his side, leaning his cheek against his forearm. Even in the dark and without his glasses Nanba could still make out the thick lines drawn into the skin of Kasuga’s back. The dragonfish looked over his shoulder, the red accents contrasting against the blacked out scales and gray face of the creature. Kasuga had once told them the significance of the dragonfish, a story Nanba would never forget. The legend of a koi fish relentlessly swimming up a waterfall with a goal of becoming a dragon had moved something inside Nanba, how on the nose the entire piece was for Kasuga. He truly was a fish on its journey to becoming a legend.
Nanba had never given tattoos that much thought. Like most Japanese, he knew they were associated with the yakuza, nothing a normal civilian would want to get affiliated with. During his time as a nurse he had seen plenty of inked men get carted into his care with wounds you could realistically only get from the underworld. Japan was one of the top countries in gun control, but still he had seen plenty of gunshot wounds in his life. Stabwounds, broken bones, men beaten to the brink. Before meeting Kasuga the yakuza had made him sick. Now the ink on his back told him a story.
Nanba wondered how the inked skin would feel. During him sewing up the wounds of his patients he had worn sterilized gloves, so he had never felt the ink with his fingers. He wondered if it felt any different from the untouched golden skin around it. The dragonfish’s mean looking face felt like it was staring right at Nanba. He wondered if Kasuga ever felt trapped in his skin, it being technically forever stained with his past. The little light that shone through the window lit up Kasuga’s toned back, highlighting the ups and downs of his muscles stretching the skin taut. Nanba followed the outline of the tattoo with his eyes, seeing them stretching and shrinking in the rhythm of Kasuga’s stable breathing. It was fascinating really. It seemed like the dragonfish itself was breathing.
Kasuga was a deep sleeper, surely he wouldn’t feel a thing if Nanba touched it. Just a little, just to feel if it really felt any different. Nanba lifted his arm to reach over the gap in their futons. He hesitated, his fingers trembling in the air. What if Kasuga woke up? How would he explain himself? Kasuga wouldn’t mind, probably. Nanba was so curious. To hell with it.
Nanba brushed the face of the dragonfish ever so lightly. It felt smooth, no bumps or lines. Weird , Nanba thought to himself. The skin looked like it should definitely feel different. Nanba wondered how much getting it done hurt. The piece was not small, and it definitely looked like getting the skin perfectly black would hurt quite a bit. Nanba wondered what the process of it all was. Nanba thought of a younger Kasuga laying on his stomach in some shady looking studio with someone hacking ink into his back for what he could only imagine took hours. He wondered how long ago Kasuga had gotten his tattoo. How young had he been when he had been marked as a yakuza for his whole life.
Nanba pulled his hand back to himself. Nanba considered what kind of a tattoo he would have gotten if he had ended up in the yakuza. No way he would have gotten anything so cool looking as a dragon. The thought didn’t go very far, since he had no idea what kind of tattoos yakuza usually got. Sure, dragons, but not everyone could get a dragon, right? Could he get a bird? Maybe not a pigeon but some bird? The only tattoos he had seen were Kasuga’s, and the mysterious man who had helped them get on track of Aoki. Now that Nanba thought about it, he had had a dragon tattoo too. Surely it had to be a coincidence.
Nanba reached over again, this time touching the skin with this whole fingertip. The sensation was truly weird, the skin felt so smooth. Nanba could feel Kasuga’s muscle tense subconsciously under his touch. He was fascinated by the dark contrasting the skin around it, and followed the outline. His touch was light as a feather, like he was afraid the fish would bite his finger off if he disturbed it too much.
“What’re you doin’?” Kasuga’s sudden question made Nanba pull his hand away like he had been burned. He had been so infatuated with the dragonfish that he had been completely oblivious to how Kasuga’s snoring had stopped.
“I’m sorry, I-,” Nanba blurted out but was cut off by a low rumble of Kasuga chuckling. His voice was so low and groggy it felt like soft velvet touching Nanba’s eardrums. He could feel his cheeks burning up from embarrassment as he stared at the ceiling. From the corner of his eye he could see Kasuga shifting to face him. Nanba couldn’t bear the shame of looking at him. He could see Kasuga leaning his cheek on his hand and smiling like a dork. Nanba shot short glances over to him, wishing he would just let it go and go back to sleep. No chance.
“Nanba.” Nanba pressed his eyes shut tight and pretended not to hear. “Nanba look at me.” He wanted the futon to swallow him, send him off to the afterlife and punish him for his crimes. How embarrassing. How very embarrassing. Sweet release of death could not come soon enough for him.
“Nanba it’s okay.” It most definitely was not. He had been caught red handed – literally. Another deep chuckle. Finally he could hear Kasuga fall back onto his back and he could once again open his eyes.
“‘t felt nice. Can you keep goin’?” What? Nanba looked over in shock. Kasuga shifted back onto his side, the dragonfish once again taunting him, laughing at him.
“Please?”
Nanba wiped his sweaty hands against his T-shirt before reaching over once again. As his fingers began once again tracing the outline of the dragonfish Kasuga let out a deep sigh. Nanba could feel him relaxing his back under his touch, muscles sometimes involuntarily twitching under his fingertips. Without noticing he had snuggled closer to him to not keep reaching so far.
The action made Nanba feel drowsy. Following the smooth curve of the fish’s back, the sharp fins, the swirls of the wave, the teeth of the transformed face. He could hear Kasuga’s breathing get slower too, him clearly enjoying the soft touch provided by Nanba. They yawned in almost unison. Without too much thought Nanba moved his hand to rest on Kasuga’s ribs. He had shimmied so close that his nose could almost touch Kasuga’s shoulder blades. To his surprise Kasuga snuggled into him, pulling Nanba’s hand all the way around him and closing his palm into his own. Nanba didn’t fight it and just let his hand rest against Kasuga’s chest. He pressed his forehead against Kasuga’s shoulder and let out a sigh.
That had become their little thing. Every time Nanba woke up and couldn’t sleep he would trace the dragonfish up and down so long that sleep won, or when Kasuga was too wound up from the day Nanba’s soft touch would relax him in minutes. Usually Nanba fell asleep being the big spoon, but sometimes he woke up against Kasuga’s chest, strong arms wrapped around him, holding him close. He didn’t mind.