Needle Point ///

I. Initiation

            The man worked with a precision so smooth, you'd never know he was missing a thumb. He slammed a sharp tebori rod over and over again, drawing blood with each poke. Mei stole a glance at her throbbing hip, where her mentor was carving into a maple leaf into her thigh. He poked shades of amber and rust into its blades, over and over and over again, until not a single speck of her own skin tone remained. It was the last patch of skin on her thigh left to fill with ink, and her back was rigid as she tried her best not to show any signs of pain or weakness.

There was a pause, as Horibori leaned back, and wiped her leg with a soap-covered paper towel. It felt cool against her new scars, a fresh contrast against the searing pain of the tebori needle. It was silent in the room for the first time in the last four hours as the artist studied Mei's leg and wiped the blood from it.

Finally, a nod.

The apprentice risked a sigh of relief. The slight gesture of approval meant that she now had two fully completed leg sleeves, a gift from her mentor to celebrate the formal end of her apprenticeship. Over time, she would fill her arms, back, and possibly chest with a complete body sleeve, but for now her legs would suffice.

She rose to stand and admire her new legs, wrapped expertly in maple leaves, koi fish, lotuses, and waves. She had tattooed the tops of her thighs herself, but her knees were beginning to swell from the new work her mentor had added today. The lines looked impossibly sharp and crisp, and there was the slightest pink tint to everything, as if she was looking down at her legs through rose tinted glasses as her blood threatened to rise to the surface. Both of her legs were bruised and raw, and were probably going to begin to bleed again that night, but it was the most exquisite thing she had ever seen in her life. Black wind bars and waves filled in the gaps between fins and petals, curved ever so slightly in a way that contoured her thighs nicely.

Horibori handed her a box of plastic wrap, for her to cover the tattoo with when she was done admiring it, and she stood to make a quick work of taping it around her legs. She didn't want to risk anything happening to her fresh tattoos, but standing was no easy feat. Her vision blurred for a minute and she stumbled when she rose. She found her balance momentarily, and held her head high as she covered her tender legs.

"I have a client for you, tomorrow."

Mei looked up at her mentor's face when he spoke. Not a word had passed between them the entire session until now, but that announcement made her shiver. Tomorrow, she would face her first paid client. In this studio, most of their clients were yakuza. She had seen her mentor tattoo many syndicate men by this point, but tomorrow, that would be her venture. The hairs at the back of her neck rose. She was incredibly nervous.

Tomorrow, she would be facing a total stranger, and in traditional horishi-style tattooing fashion, she would have to read into their persona, and design a tattoo for them on the spot, then ink it into their flesh. Neither the artist nor the client would have any idea what would end up being tattooed until after it was finished. And if the client disliked the design...

No, Mei didn't dare think of such things. This was cause for celebration. This was the next step towards becoming a full fledged Horishi tattoo master. She hoped to be able to earn a proper name in a few years, after proving herself as a professional.

That was how her mentor before her had come to be known as Horibori. Like most types of traditional Japanese artisans, tattoo artists were often given honorary names to proclaim their mastery of the craft. Hori was the prefix given to most, though Horibori was a play on the tebori technique he used to tattoo. Mei desperately wanted a proper Hori title for herself, and to prove herself worthy of one.

There was a clanking sound, as the blood-covered needles that had penetrated her flesh dropped into the plastic biological hazard waste box. It was a sound like the gonging of bells at a shrine, a sound that shifted her into motion and cleared her head. She gave a bow to her mentor and excused herself from the room to change into some warmer clothes before leaving the studio.

The plastic wrap around her tattoos felt sensitive, and each movement sent a small jolt through her skin. She stepped outside into the night air and felt her teeth chattering, though whether it was from the cold or the tattoos, she couldn't be sure. She walked briskly, all the award of the fabric of her pants brushing against each thigh with every step. A tiredness seemed to seep through her body, spreading from each thigh towards her skull as she marched. It was nearing the end of the colder months, but the intense summer heat was still a long ways away, judging from the chill that night. It was a welcome contrast from the heat of rushing blood on her legs, but the rest of her body was covered in icy goosebumps.

More than anything however, she was hungry.