Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Tattoos ❯ Tattoos ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: JonoKai 
Renji gets his tattoos...
Anime/Manga: Bleach Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Psychological | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 06.29.2011 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 285 | Status: Completed
Renji gets his tattoos...
Anime/Manga: Bleach Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Psychological | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 06.29.2011 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 285 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach and its characters. They belong to Tite Kubo. They are a work of fiction. I do not make any money out of this.
Warning: The tattoo session described within IS NOT SAFE under ANY human circumstances! Get that? Do NOT try this for real. It only works for Renji because he’s *GASP* already DEAD..... did all the children catch that part? I’m not responsible for tattoo stupidness on the part of any readers...
Everything had it’s price. Tattoos cost pain. How much pain is mostly up to the person getting the tattoo. Breathing was always key. If a person stopped breathing, the pain would become their entire world, swallowing their awareness in a dark haze. And only breathing again would make it go away. There’s also a choice to be made, whether on a conscious level or not. Just how will each person react to the pain? Some whimper or cry or only manage to grit their teeth long enough to finish the outline before calling it quits. Some are left panting and trying to keep still. Others seem to feel nothing. A select few are able to not only feel the pain, but accept it for what it is. It is not just a price to be paid for something fun or cute. No, to them, the pain is part of the experience. Just as much as showing off the final product later. And while the number are few, there are fewer still who can admit the fact.
Then there is the artist. The average person doesn’t think about the artist. They just strip off whatever clothing is between them and their goal and allow this stranger to carve images into their flesh. They are treated like doctors and expected to have nothing but a clinical view of their canvas. How many marvel at the slide of skin over muscle as the person shifts or flinches away from the weapon? At the perfect, unblemished skin of the youth, speaking of inexperience and hope? Or understanding what kind of truths are written in the scars of another? What stories could that inch of skin reveal?
Tattoos cover scars. And scars cut through tattoos. Both combining to illustrate a map of each person’s life, representing secrets that beg to be drug into the light.
Abarai Renji was one of the lucky ones. He not only accepted the pain, but he had chosen his artist only after getting to know the man. Renji had brought in several sketches of odd symbols one day and asked the artist to design something just for him. It had never been asked where the new shinigami had gotten the ideas for the shapes, or why he suddenly wanted them. If the red-head wanted to share, he would. And he did not. Renji kept the secret even from Kira and Rukia. Momo had once commented that he’d just fallen for one of the 11th Division’s testosterone filled ideas of manhood and Renji simply laughed and agreed. It was easier than trying to squirm out from under three sets of inquiring eyes.
When he had returned to the tattoo parlor he had been pleasantly surprised to find several sketches waiting for him. The artist had not known where he wanted the tattoos placed and ended up with several possibilities, saying sheepishly, “I just got caught up in those shapes and the drawing kind of took off on it’s own.” Renji had stunned the man when he’d simply asked for all of them, even the ones the artist had laughingly sketched for Renji’s forehead. The artist wasn’t sure he could comply with the client’s request when Renji asked him to do them all in one sitting. That would never have been allowed normally. If the tattoos bled too much the person could be in serious danger, the artist explained. And the forehead tats would most certainly bleed. Renji could clearly read the concern for his sanity in the artist’s eyes.
In the end, knowing how much their friend was determined to have it all done at once, Kira and Rukia managed to convince a seated officer from the 4th Division to oversee the session. That way if something happened there would be a capable medical professional right there, they said. Renji’s not the kind of person to do things half-heartedly, they explained. Against his better judgment, the artist finally agreed as long as the 4th was present.
The session was scheduled for a weekday so that there would be fewer customers looking for walk-ins and the artist had booked out his entire day for Renji. He was a bit nervous for his friend but since he had already agreed to the endeavor, he went through with it. Renji was the one who suggested that they start with the forehead. The artist agreed, wanting to get the hardest of the work out of the way. If Renji was going to bleed badly it would be from the facial work. And bleed he did. The 4th stepped in at one point to stop the bleeding with his medical arts, but it was for the artist’s sake rather than Renji’s. The blood was both upsetting the man and getting in the way.
After those were complete, the artist called for a short break. Renji agreed easily, not letting his friends know just how much pain he’d really been in. It made sense to him, though. After all, tattoos over bones were always more painful and there was more bone than muscle to a person’s head.
The chest tattoos came next. Renji laid on his back and let the artist work. The pain wasn’t as sharp and Renji found that he had no problem basically ignoring the sting. The artist was calmer as well. Renji chatted easily with the artist and the 4th squad officer while Kira just watched, shaking his head now and then and Rukia read a book she’d grabbed from the Academy library. Renji watched her and chuckled a little, thinking she looked almost bored but her reiatsu was practically vibrating with her irritation at Renji for having to go to extremes all the time.
The markings on his abdomen were a little harder to take. Not because of the pain, but because it damn near tickled. Renji ended up gripping both sides of the table and trying not to laugh as the ends were filled in around his sensitive sides.
His arms were next and the easiest for both Renji and the artist. Most people wanted arm tattoos so this was familiar territory for the artist. And Renji had been in so many scrapes and brawls in Rukongai that he could simply shrug off much deeper wounds easily.
Once both his arms were done and everyone had taken a long lunch break, the artist found himself facing a dilemma. Renji’s front was freshly tattooed and therefore sore. But there were markings on his back to draw. The 4th officer stepped in to rush the healing a little before Renji simply took a towel and leaned forward to expose his back. Kira glared at his friend and walked out muttering about finding a drink or something mundane. Renji wasn’t bright enough to catch on that the blonde had been overwhelmed by the intensity of the scene.
Renji would think back on the whole experience later and remember faintly how the towel felt rough and his muscles and skin burned slightly where the ink had been laid. How he felt a glow begin growing in his stomach about half way through the session, a duality of pride. His pride at being able to deal with something this big and his pride for what the designs meant. But it was the back tattoos that would remain branded in his memory the most.
He figured it would be just like the chest tattoos. After all, the back is made of mostly muscle and there was nothing directly over his spine. That had been one line the artist had refused to cross. But Renji had been wrong. Something was different about the pain and the sensation. The pain was sharp, yes. Not as sharp as the facial tats had been, perhaps, but sharper than the rest. The biggest difference was the sensation. He couldn’t remember a time when his back had been paid attention to.
He had had several lovers in the past. None of whom had cared a bit about his back. Youthful attraction usually led to just one or two parts of the body and Renji had been no exception. So when he had to bite his lip and force himself from arcing his back under the sensations, he wondered just what was wrong with him. He blushed and both the artist and the 4th Division officer called a stop and checked his health. Renji ended up laying on his stomach rather than just leaning against a chair back. At least that position made it easier to keep still. He tried to block out the feelings and arousal that flowed through him as the markings stretched slowly across his back, but he couldn’t quite do it. The seconds felt like minutes and the minutes felt like hours.
He stopped breathing properly.
Pain engulfed him, pulling from his lips the one sound of distress he would make through the whole ordeal. A high-pitched gasp that had Rukia on her feet and both artist and medic hunched over him with concern. It took the artist only a moment to realize what was going on and he spoke calmly to Renji,instructing him to breathe, not to worry about that small amount of movement. He was used to people squirming outright, he said, so Renji shouldn’t worry about breathing normally. It was a good excuse for Renji and he latched onto it with both hands. Soul King save him if Rukia had ever found out he’d been aroused by getting a tattoo...
The rest of the ink was applied without incident, but the medic still insisted on healing Renji anyway. Since the man had put up with this crazy idea all day, Renji let him do as he wished. Kira had returned just after Renji’s little breathing incident and between him and Rukia they managed to get Renji home without having to stop at a bar for a celebratory cup of Sake. Rukia said that she’d smack him once he was fully healed.
Now Renji realized just how precious the knowledge of his sensitive back was. His lover’s tongue traced the fully healed marks on his back and Renji moaned. Partly from his lover’s ministrations. Partly in remembrance of the pain that had started it all.
Warning: The tattoo session described within IS NOT SAFE under ANY human circumstances! Get that? Do NOT try this for real. It only works for Renji because he’s *GASP* already DEAD..... did all the children catch that part? I’m not responsible for tattoo stupidness on the part of any readers...
Everything had it’s price. Tattoos cost pain. How much pain is mostly up to the person getting the tattoo. Breathing was always key. If a person stopped breathing, the pain would become their entire world, swallowing their awareness in a dark haze. And only breathing again would make it go away. There’s also a choice to be made, whether on a conscious level or not. Just how will each person react to the pain? Some whimper or cry or only manage to grit their teeth long enough to finish the outline before calling it quits. Some are left panting and trying to keep still. Others seem to feel nothing. A select few are able to not only feel the pain, but accept it for what it is. It is not just a price to be paid for something fun or cute. No, to them, the pain is part of the experience. Just as much as showing off the final product later. And while the number are few, there are fewer still who can admit the fact.
Then there is the artist. The average person doesn’t think about the artist. They just strip off whatever clothing is between them and their goal and allow this stranger to carve images into their flesh. They are treated like doctors and expected to have nothing but a clinical view of their canvas. How many marvel at the slide of skin over muscle as the person shifts or flinches away from the weapon? At the perfect, unblemished skin of the youth, speaking of inexperience and hope? Or understanding what kind of truths are written in the scars of another? What stories could that inch of skin reveal?
Tattoos cover scars. And scars cut through tattoos. Both combining to illustrate a map of each person’s life, representing secrets that beg to be drug into the light.
Abarai Renji was one of the lucky ones. He not only accepted the pain, but he had chosen his artist only after getting to know the man. Renji had brought in several sketches of odd symbols one day and asked the artist to design something just for him. It had never been asked where the new shinigami had gotten the ideas for the shapes, or why he suddenly wanted them. If the red-head wanted to share, he would. And he did not. Renji kept the secret even from Kira and Rukia. Momo had once commented that he’d just fallen for one of the 11th Division’s testosterone filled ideas of manhood and Renji simply laughed and agreed. It was easier than trying to squirm out from under three sets of inquiring eyes.
When he had returned to the tattoo parlor he had been pleasantly surprised to find several sketches waiting for him. The artist had not known where he wanted the tattoos placed and ended up with several possibilities, saying sheepishly, “I just got caught up in those shapes and the drawing kind of took off on it’s own.” Renji had stunned the man when he’d simply asked for all of them, even the ones the artist had laughingly sketched for Renji’s forehead. The artist wasn’t sure he could comply with the client’s request when Renji asked him to do them all in one sitting. That would never have been allowed normally. If the tattoos bled too much the person could be in serious danger, the artist explained. And the forehead tats would most certainly bleed. Renji could clearly read the concern for his sanity in the artist’s eyes.
In the end, knowing how much their friend was determined to have it all done at once, Kira and Rukia managed to convince a seated officer from the 4th Division to oversee the session. That way if something happened there would be a capable medical professional right there, they said. Renji’s not the kind of person to do things half-heartedly, they explained. Against his better judgment, the artist finally agreed as long as the 4th was present.
The session was scheduled for a weekday so that there would be fewer customers looking for walk-ins and the artist had booked out his entire day for Renji. He was a bit nervous for his friend but since he had already agreed to the endeavor, he went through with it. Renji was the one who suggested that they start with the forehead. The artist agreed, wanting to get the hardest of the work out of the way. If Renji was going to bleed badly it would be from the facial work. And bleed he did. The 4th stepped in at one point to stop the bleeding with his medical arts, but it was for the artist’s sake rather than Renji’s. The blood was both upsetting the man and getting in the way.
After those were complete, the artist called for a short break. Renji agreed easily, not letting his friends know just how much pain he’d really been in. It made sense to him, though. After all, tattoos over bones were always more painful and there was more bone than muscle to a person’s head.
The chest tattoos came next. Renji laid on his back and let the artist work. The pain wasn’t as sharp and Renji found that he had no problem basically ignoring the sting. The artist was calmer as well. Renji chatted easily with the artist and the 4th squad officer while Kira just watched, shaking his head now and then and Rukia read a book she’d grabbed from the Academy library. Renji watched her and chuckled a little, thinking she looked almost bored but her reiatsu was practically vibrating with her irritation at Renji for having to go to extremes all the time.
The markings on his abdomen were a little harder to take. Not because of the pain, but because it damn near tickled. Renji ended up gripping both sides of the table and trying not to laugh as the ends were filled in around his sensitive sides.
His arms were next and the easiest for both Renji and the artist. Most people wanted arm tattoos so this was familiar territory for the artist. And Renji had been in so many scrapes and brawls in Rukongai that he could simply shrug off much deeper wounds easily.
Once both his arms were done and everyone had taken a long lunch break, the artist found himself facing a dilemma. Renji’s front was freshly tattooed and therefore sore. But there were markings on his back to draw. The 4th officer stepped in to rush the healing a little before Renji simply took a towel and leaned forward to expose his back. Kira glared at his friend and walked out muttering about finding a drink or something mundane. Renji wasn’t bright enough to catch on that the blonde had been overwhelmed by the intensity of the scene.
Renji would think back on the whole experience later and remember faintly how the towel felt rough and his muscles and skin burned slightly where the ink had been laid. How he felt a glow begin growing in his stomach about half way through the session, a duality of pride. His pride at being able to deal with something this big and his pride for what the designs meant. But it was the back tattoos that would remain branded in his memory the most.
He figured it would be just like the chest tattoos. After all, the back is made of mostly muscle and there was nothing directly over his spine. That had been one line the artist had refused to cross. But Renji had been wrong. Something was different about the pain and the sensation. The pain was sharp, yes. Not as sharp as the facial tats had been, perhaps, but sharper than the rest. The biggest difference was the sensation. He couldn’t remember a time when his back had been paid attention to.
He had had several lovers in the past. None of whom had cared a bit about his back. Youthful attraction usually led to just one or two parts of the body and Renji had been no exception. So when he had to bite his lip and force himself from arcing his back under the sensations, he wondered just what was wrong with him. He blushed and both the artist and the 4th Division officer called a stop and checked his health. Renji ended up laying on his stomach rather than just leaning against a chair back. At least that position made it easier to keep still. He tried to block out the feelings and arousal that flowed through him as the markings stretched slowly across his back, but he couldn’t quite do it. The seconds felt like minutes and the minutes felt like hours.
He stopped breathing properly.
Pain engulfed him, pulling from his lips the one sound of distress he would make through the whole ordeal. A high-pitched gasp that had Rukia on her feet and both artist and medic hunched over him with concern. It took the artist only a moment to realize what was going on and he spoke calmly to Renji,instructing him to breathe, not to worry about that small amount of movement. He was used to people squirming outright, he said, so Renji shouldn’t worry about breathing normally. It was a good excuse for Renji and he latched onto it with both hands. Soul King save him if Rukia had ever found out he’d been aroused by getting a tattoo...
The rest of the ink was applied without incident, but the medic still insisted on healing Renji anyway. Since the man had put up with this crazy idea all day, Renji let him do as he wished. Kira had returned just after Renji’s little breathing incident and between him and Rukia they managed to get Renji home without having to stop at a bar for a celebratory cup of Sake. Rukia said that she’d smack him once he was fully healed.
Now Renji realized just how precious the knowledge of his sensitive back was. His lover’s tongue traced the fully healed marks on his back and Renji moaned. Partly from his lover’s ministrations. Partly in remembrance of the pain that had started it all.