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If there was one way that Junko could be considered to be absolutely reliable it was, unfortunately, that she was more often than not unreliable. Though she'd known full well that she had a shift at the inn that wouldn't end until four, she was no where to be found. Because it was necessary, Yuudai had covered for her, even though he hadn't particularly wanted to; he couldn't just leave the inn shorthanded, and he had no idea where she was. Junko was something of a wild child, and though they were all rebellious in their own small ways, she took it to the extreme. Nothing was ever big enough for her, different enough.

One day, he was sure it was going to take her far away from the family, and he didn't like it. The more he tried to convince her to stay, the harder she seemed to strain against it. He was getting to his wit's end, and their arguments were happening much more frequently than they had in the past.

He didn't like it.

However, her spirited wanderings were not entirely the focus of his concern and ire that day. Flour still on his face from a cooking mishap, Yuudai marched down the street, his destination etched perfectly in mind despite the fact that he had never set foot in the establishment prior. Tattoos were not, as a general rule, something that appealed to him -- they could look nice enough on the right person, but placement and subject matter were everything, and too many people did not take into account exactly what an aging body would do to their tattoos. He liked the idea of them, but he wasn't prepared to be a little old man with a samurai wrestling a tiger on his drooping belly, amusing as the image might have been.

Junko, however, was just the sort of girl who would delight in getting a tattoo. She would want something big and colorful, and right where people could see it. Heaven help him, she would probably want sleeves, and how was she supposed to be a respectable employee if she had all manner of ridiculous prints all over her skin?

Taking a deep breath, he paused outside of the building, reaching up to fuss with his hair. He was irritated, and he was disappointed, but that didn't mean he had to fly in red-faced and breathless. Junko responded best when he didn't lose his temper, because she would inevitably lose hers; he needed to keep the upper hand.

Smoothing his hands down his apron, he stepped inside, a rigid smile on his face. Anyone who knew Yuudai would be able to tell instantly that it was temper that brightened his eyes and set his shoulders, but unfortunately, he didn't see Junko immediately.

Fearing the worst, he asked the first person that his gaze fell on, politely, "Is there a young woman by the name of Koga Junko here? She is my height, exactly, with fair hair and green eyes."

He lifted his hand, gesturing at the level of the top of his head, and looked supremely unimpressed to have needed to ask. If Junko wasn't here, as her friend had hinted to him, then where was she?

To say that Yuudai was unimpressed to be led through the facility was an understatement. Part of him had hoped, even as another part of him would have been furious, that Junko was not present. He could think of precious few things that were more important than one's duty to their family and associated responsibilities, but in this respect, he and his sister had always differed. She felt confined by their family, stifled by the tradition and love that was such an essential part of who he was, who she was. Enough so that she rebelled in any way that she could, small or large.

He did not consider a tattoo a small rebellion.

Fingers winding around the ruffles of his apron, he tugged it taught between his hands, unable to speak for the space of a few beats. Though she was not facing him, there was no doubt that the girl on her stomach was his sister; the hair color, the birthmark that flirted with her right lower back, the damnable rose that was being etched into her skin even as he stood there glaring at her.

The vessel for her most recent rebellion spoke, and his eyes flicked to the other man's face, temper hot in his own. He didn't know the brunette, had no real reason to bear him animosity, except for the fact that he happened to be the unfortunate person sitting between him and his sister.

Chin jerking up, he exhaled through his nose, smoothing the fabric of his apron down over his thighs. "You may. You are inking a--"

"Ah, hell," came a muffled and distinctly feminine voice. "Isn't it against the rules for him to be here?"

"Do not swear, Junko," he fumed, voice unsteady despite not being raised a breath above a speaking tone. "What are you thinking?"

Then, lifting a hand, he pointed it at Jianyu. "You are done here. She is coming home with me."

In a perfect world, when Yuudai told someone exactly what was going to happen, it would happen. He had been struggling to come to terms with the fact that he did not live in a perfect world for nineteen years, and those closest to him held the opinion that he would never fully grasp that concept. Yuudai certainly hadn't expected to be refused, and there was a flicker of confusion on his face for a split second. Junko was his sister, and whether she wanted to admit it or not, he knew what was best for her much more often than she did. He also knew very well exactly what she should have been doing with her time, and the simple answer was: almost anything but getting a tattoo.

Folding his arms tightly over his chest, he scowled deeply, the brunt of his ire now being directed toward the tattoo artist. With what he thought was masterful calm, given the situation, he explained shortly, "She is my sister. I would apologize for disrupting your work, but as it is work that should never have begun in the first place, it would not be sincere."

He looked severely displeased the idea of Junko getting an infection, and sighed, bringing one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. As usual, she'd barreled headlong into something without bothering to consider anyone else's feelings, and now there was risk of infection on top of it. Did she never think anything through?

"I will not--" He stopped, abruptly, and looked suspicious. Suspicious, and annoyed. "How extensive is 'finished'? I will wait here until you have completed the rose, but she needs nothing further than that, and that is only to prevent infection."

Sounding just as irritated as her brother, Junko returned, "Get out."

"Only the rose," he repeated, looking for all the world like a disapproving father rather than her younger brother.

Twenty minutes was not such a terrible amount of time. It was longer than he would have liked, but if it only took twenty minutes to get Junko on her way back home, he could exercise a bit of patience. What she would do when she got home, he had no idea, as he had already covered her shift, but he imagined it would be something along the lines of laundry detail. Junko hated laundry detail; it was almost perfect.

A slight smile curved his mouth at the thought of it, but was readily dismissed in favor of his former frown. While he did not approve of the man returning to his business, the fastest way to get this entire ordeal over with was to simply let him work, and so he would. Grudgingly.

With his foot tapping, lightly.

"That's my little brother," Junko supplied, tone petulant. "Who should be behaving like a little brother and not bothering his elders."

"If you would act your age, then I would not have to keep such a close eye on you, Junko." His tone was clipped, and just as childish as hers. Huffing, he glanced to the man again, a little bit curious despite himself.

From across the room, he couldn't see the design well at all, except to know that it was a rose. He didn't want his sister to have a tattoo, but if she had to have one, he supposed to wanted it to look decent enough. That thought in mind, he leaned forward slightly, not close enough to cause a distraction, but able to get a little bit better of a vantage point.

"That's because he acts like he's everyone's big brother," Junko muttered, then went quiet. There were few things in the world that could make Junko keep her opinion to herself for long, one of which was pain. Having never gotten a tattoo himself, Yuudai wasn't certain of how much it hurt, but he imagined having a needle persistently jabbed into one's skin did not feel good.

A little embarrassed to have been caught looking, he straightened again, nose wrinkling in distaste. "I am merely looking to see what sort of travesty my sister is getting engraved on herself."

After a beat, waspishly, he asked, "And shouldn't you be focusing on her? It is my impression that these things are permanent, and much as I disapprove of them, I would rather my sister's at least look acceptable."

Her voice a little strained, Junko advised him to "piss off" but didn't comment further.

"Perhaps they are for others." Yuudai's expression became more forbidding. "I'm certain Junko decided this on a whim."

Because he had no intentions of leaving until he could see for himself just how Junko's back turned out, Yuudai gave in and stepped a little closer. He didn't want to be in the way, but he felt a little ridiculous standing on his tip-toes to try to see what was going on.

"Koga Yuudai." His name was delivered crisply and shortly, a bit of the irritation dying away as he examined the rose. It was pretty, though getting him to admit as much out loud would be nigh impossible. After another moment's hesitation, he asked grudgingly, "And what is your name?"

He supposed he couldn't be too angry with the artist for providing the tattoo. Junko, after all, had been the one to come to him, and he'd been paid for his services. Poor manners were something that he generally did not entertain, and now that there was clearly nothing to be done about the tattoo but accept it, he was beginning to be a little embarrassed for the way he had acted.

Not toward Junko, because she deserved his ire, but the man before him hadn't done anything particularly heinous.

Qian Jianyu. Yuudai filed the name into his memory, unsure if there would ever come a time where he needed to remember him, but not wanting to be caught off guard nonetheless. He didn't imagine he would ever go in for a tattoo, but now that they had exchanged greetings, it would be intolerably rude for him to immediately disregard that. As annoyed as he was with his sister, the damage was done, and he was going to need to work on letting that go.

Somehow. Letting go of his anger was not as easy for Yuudai as it should have been. He was not necessarily proud of that aspect of his personality, but it was part of him.

Watching as Jianyu carefully cleaned and then sterilized Junko's back, he waited until she was facing him again to give her his sternest, most disappointed look. She met his stare, triumph in her eyes, and they stood in awkward silence for a few beats.

"Mother and father are waiting for you," he said finally, displeasure obvious.

"If you come home and try to yell at me again," Junko said sweetly, reaching up to brush at her brother's beads. "I am going to throw a plate at you."

He swatted at her hand, glaring after her as she glided out of the room. In her absence, there was another awkward pause, then Yuudai sighed, rubbing the back of his hand on his neck.

"My sister..." He glanced to Jianyu, much of his anger leaving his face now that the source of it was out of the room and on her way home. "Is a very difficult, willful girl. Do you have sisters? They are intolerable sometimes."