Tenma sat in his dimly lit studio, the needle buzzing softly in the air as he carefully traced a dragon on his client's back. The smell of the ink, the sound of the machine, the rhythmic flow of his hand—it all felt right. This was where Tenma truly excelled. Every stroke was calculated, his movements sharp and precise. This was his world.
"Looks good, right?" Tenma asked, not even glancing up. He knew it was good; he could feel it in his bones.
"Yeah, it's awesome," said Takahashi, a 24-year-old businessman who had somehow found Tenma online. He winced slightly as the needle made contact with his skin, but he grinned through the discomfort. "Man, I can't believe you're still in high school, and you're already this good."
Tenma just nodded in response, pulling back to assess his work.
"Do you need anything else? I can get you a drink or a snack while I finish up?" Takahashi asked, trying to make polite small talk.
"No," Tenma said quickly, without thinking. "I'm just... focused."
Takahashi paused, then gave a nervous chuckle. "Okay, well, you're serious, I like that."
When Tenma finished, Takahashi inspected the tattoo in the mirror, his eyes widening. "Man, I've never seen anything like this. You're seriously incredible."
"Thanks," Tenma said, wiping his hands on a rag and grabbing his payment. "I take it seriously. It's an art, not a hobby."
As Takahashi left, Tenma sat back, satisfied. His client left with a masterpiece, and Tenma—back in his element—felt like he could conquer the world. Too bad that world was high school.
Back to School: A Day of Disasters
As the bell rang, Tenma rushed into school, knowing full well he was late. Again.
"Shirozaki! You're late AGAIN!" Mr. Okabe yelled from the front of the classroom as Tenma awkwardly shuffled in, trying to avoid making eye contact with everyone.
"Sorry, Mr. Okabe," Tenma mumbled, slipping into his seat. His shirt was on backward—again. It wasn't even just backwards. He had managed to put the collar on the bottom.
"I swear," Mr. Okabe groaned, "you are the most disorganized student I've ever had."
"I'm just... creative," Tenma said with an awkward smile.
Mr. Okabe stared at him, unamused. "Creative? You call this creative? You look like you just rolled out of a laundry basket."
Tenma was used to this by now. He gave a thumbs-up, not quite sure if it was the right response but going with it anyway.
"Okay, class," Mr. Okabe said, turning back to the whiteboard. "Let's continue with the lesson on algebraic equations."
At that moment, Tenma's stomach growled loudly, an ominous sound that echoed throughout the classroom.
"Really?" Mr. Okabe said, raising an eyebrow. "Your stomach's making an announcement now?"
"I'm not hungry," Tenma said quickly, holding his stomach and trying to will it into silence.
But his stomach had other plans. It growled again, this time louder than ever, like a bear that had just woken up from hibernation.
"I'm... uh... just really passionate about... numbers," Tenma stammered, hoping his comment would distract from the noise.
The class erupted into laughter. Riku, his best friend, leaned over and whispered, "Dude, it's okay, your stomach's basically the class clown at this point."
The "Pencil Incident"
Math class started, and this was when things took a truly bizarre turn. Tenma, despite his best efforts, was still trying to understand the math problems in front of him. The words blurred together as he stared at the page in confusion.
"Shirozaki," Ms. Hasegawa called out, pulling him out of his daze, "can you solve this equation?"
"Uh..." Tenma began, nervously scanning the page. He had no idea what he was looking at. Numbers? Letters? It might as well have been hieroglyphs.
Suddenly, the pencil he was holding slipped from his grasp and shot out of his hand like a rocket. It zoomed through the air, past the startled faces of his classmates, and landed with a perfect thunk in the teacher's coffee cup.
The class went silent. Ms. Hasegawa stared at the pencil, her expression unreadable.
"Well... that's one way to solve a problem," she said, her voice flat.
The class burst into uncontrollable laughter. Tenma, mortified, sat with his face in his hands. "I didn't mean to do that," he muttered, though it was clear that he absolutely meant to launch a pencil into the coffee.
"Shirozaki," Ms. Hasegawa said, trying to regain control, "I think you've earned yourself a special place in history."
Tenma slumped further into his chair, wishing the earth would just swallow him whole.
The "Spilled Ink" Disaster
After math, it was time for English. Tenma was determined to at least get through this class without incident. He had his notebook ready and was trying to focus as Ms. Tanaka started reading from the literature textbook.
Everything was going fine until, during the silent reading time, Tenma's hand brushed against his bag... which, for some reason, was filled with half-used tattoo ink bottles (he had meant to throw them out earlier that morning).
The bottles tipped over, and within seconds, a cascade of black ink splashed all over the desk, pooling into his notebook, and splattering onto his uniform.
The class turned to look at him. Tenma froze. "Uh... this isn't what it looks like?" he said, raising a hand in protest.
Riku couldn't stop laughing. "Dude, you're really dedicated to your art!"
Ms. Tanaka, who had been patiently trying to maintain a sense of calm, just sighed. "Shirozaki, why is there ink everywhere?"
"I swear, Ms. Tanaka, I wasn't planning on this—" Tenma began, but his words were lost as ink continued to drip from his desk like some abstract performance art.
"You've officially started an ink spill revolution," Riku said, still in tears from laughing so hard.
Tenma just sank lower into his chair, thinking, How did my life become a slapstick comedy?
The "Bento Bomb"
Finally, lunchtime. Tenma had prepared what he thought was a carefully crafted, balanced meal. His bento box was filled with rice, a few pieces of grilled chicken, some veggies, and an omelet shaped like a heart.
Riku eyed it suspiciously. "That omelet looks... oddly... vibrant."
Tenma shrugged and dug in, trying to play it cool. He lifted the first piece of chicken, but as he chewed, he realized something was off. Something was definitely wrong.
He choked. "What the—?!"
Riku blinked in horror. "What's wrong?"
Tenma immediately grabbed the drink from his bag, gulping it down in desperation. "I think I just ate a pen cap."
The entire lunchroom fell silent.
"No, no way," Riku said, standing up to inspect the remains of the bento. Sure enough, nestled between the chicken and the rice was a tiny plastic pen cap, barely visible from the omelet's vibrant yellow hue.
"You literally ate a pen cap," Riku deadpanned, pointing at Tenma's mouth, where a suspicious sliver of plastic had lodged between his teeth.
"Ugh, I... I don't know how that happened!" Tenma moaned, his face red with embarrassment. "I thought it was just... part of the rice!"
"Hey, at least you'll get all your vitamins," Riku quipped.
The entire cafeteria erupted into laughter. Tenma slumped forward onto his tray, mentally preparing himself for a lifetime of pen cap jokes.
The Tattoo Master Returns (Later that Evening)
By the time the school bell rang, signaling the end of the day, Tenma was exhausted—not from schoolwork, but from school chaos. Every single thing he touched seemed to break, explode, or go terribly wrong.
But as soon as he stepped into his studio, everything changed. The buzz of the tattoo machine, the precision of each line, the calm that washed over him—it was his sanctuary.
Tenma picked up his needle again, focusing on his next design: a delicate, swirling phoenix for his client, Miho, who had asked for something "elegant and powerful."
As the ink flowed, so did his thoughts: This is where I shine. No more mishaps. No more disasters. Just... art.
The chaos of the day? It didn't matter here.
The Early Morning Chaos
Tenma's alarm rang like a small, angry bird chirping in his ear. He groggily rolled over, his face still mashed into his pillow, trying to hold onto the remnants of his dreams. But there was no escape.
"Crap! I'm late!" Tenma suddenly shouted, bolting upright, his messy white hair standing on end like a confused porcupine.
He sprang out of bed and into his uniform, throwing it on haphazardly. His shirt was inside out, his tie completely missing, and his shoes—two different colors—were shoved onto his feet in a rush.
In the kitchen, his bento was half-made, the rice still in the pot. He grabbed whatever was on the counter, shoving random things into a container—a banana, a boiled egg, a half-eaten pack of crackers.
He dashed out the door, realizing halfway down the stairs that he had forgotten his backpack. Tenma spun on his heel and scrambled back inside. In his hurry, he knocked over his laundry basket, causing a cascade of clothes to tumble down the stairs like a wave of fabric.
At this point, Tenma wasn't sure if he was late for school or some sort of slapstick comedy show. The universe seemed to be testing him.
The "Mystery of the Empty Desk" Incident
Arriving at school breathless and frazzled, Tenma dashed into his classroom, stumbling over the doorframe and making a spectacular entrance, which—of course—earned him the attention of everyone.
"Shirozaki! Late again?" Mr. Okabe said in a tone that suggested he'd seen this exact scene happen a hundred times before.
"Sorry, Mr. Okabe! My alarm was... evil?" Tenma offered weakly, still panting. He gave a thumbs-up, but no one was buying it.
As Tenma slunk to his seat, he noticed something odd.
His desk... was gone.
"Uh, Riku?" Tenma whispered to his best friend, who was already sitting at his desk. "Where's my desk?"
Riku looked at him with a blank expression. "What do you mean? It's right there."
"No, no! I swear! My desk is gone!" Tenma's eyes were wide with panic as he stood in the middle of the classroom, like someone who had just walked into a room and realized they were wearing only their underwear.
Riku, trying not to laugh, nodded. "Dude, you're losing it. It's right there."
Tenma's eyes flicked over the room until, finally, he realized he was standing at the wrong desk.
"I... I'm sorry," Tenma mumbled, feeling his face go crimson. "This is... awkward. Very awkward."
The class erupted into laughter. One student, Yuki, joked, "I guess Shirozaki's brain is still in bed, too."
Tenma slumped into his actual seat, wishing for the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
The "Pen Battle" Fiasco
It wasn't long before Tenma's next disaster struck.
The lesson had moved to a more interactive portion. Ms. Hasegawa had asked the class to answer questions, and Tenma, in his usual state of confusion, had no clue what was happening. As Ms. Hasegawa called on students, Tenma fidgeted with the pen in his hand, trying to look at the clock every few seconds. The tick-tock of time was the only thing that seemed to make sense.
"Shirozaki," Ms. Hasegawa suddenly called, locking eyes with him. "What's the answer to question five?"
"Uh..." Tenma stammered. "Hold on, just a second."
In a fit of sheer panic, Tenma took his pen and tried to spin it around his fingers like he'd seen in movies. It was a technique he had never mastered—usually ending with the pen either flying out of his hand or, as it was about to happen, straight into his eye.
"AAH!" Tenma screamed, clutching his face. "My eye! My PEN!"
Everyone turned to stare, horrified but also struggling to hold in their laughter.
"Shirozaki, are you okay?" Ms. Hasegawa asked, her expression a mixture of concern and disbelief.
"I—I think I've been penetrated," Tenma muttered, pulling the pen out of his face, which was now sporting a rather ridiculous inky mark on his cheek.
Riku, unable to hold it in, burst out laughing. "Dude, you just attacked yourself with a pen!"
Tenma rubbed his eye. "I thought it was a cool trick, but I'm not sure if 'eye penetration' is quite the move."
At that moment, the class cracked up. Even Ms. Hasegawa gave a barely-contained smile.
The "Unexpected Show-and-Tell"
Later, during lunch break, Tenma was trying to eat his "simple" bento when another catastrophe struck. He had somehow dropped his rice onto his lap and managed to get it stuck in his pockets.
"Tenma, why does everything you eat turn into an adventure?" Riku asked as Tenma frantically tried to shake the rice out of his shirt.
"I don't know, Riku! I really don't!" Tenma groaned, desperately tugging at the shirt's bottom in an attempt to free himself from the rice explosion.
As he struggled, the teacher who was supervising the lunch break, Ms. Nishida, walked by.
"Oh, Tenma, what's this?" she asked, noticing the rice on his lap and the spilled soy sauce. "What are you, uh, carrying around in your shirt? It looks like... a mobile sushi bar?"
Tenma's eyes went wide as he realized the bizarre truth: the rice had stuck to his uniform and now looked like it was growing on him.
"Uhm, yes... mobile sushi bar is exactly what this is," Tenma said quickly, trying to save face. "I am a very innovative person, you know?"
Ms. Nishida gave him a strange look. "Right... well, just don't try to sell your sushi to other students. I don't think the school allows that kind of business."
Tenma, now completely covered in rice, looked over at Riku, who was doubled over in laughter. "Yeah, you're right. I should've made a rice-themed snack... but not like this!"
The "Explosive Attempt at Normalcy"
The final straw of the day came in the form of physical education class. Tenma, for once, decided to show up on time and put in some effort. He was going to do something athletic, even if it killed him.
"Alright, class!" the PE teacher barked. "Today's lesson is all about teamwork and agility! We'll be playing a game of dodgeball!"
Tenma's face paled. His entire body went rigid. "No, no, not dodgeball!"
But it was too late. Tenma was in the game, standing on the court, holding a dodgeball that felt heavier than a boulder.
"Ready!" the PE teacher shouted.
Without thinking, Tenma threw the ball with all his might—but the trajectory was off. The ball soared into the air... and crashed straight into the gym's scoreboard, sending it flying off the wall and smacking the teacher in the face.
"Uhhhh... sorry?" Tenma said, realizing his entire body was in the direct path of destruction.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," the teacher groaned, rubbing his forehead as the class exploded into laughter. "Shirozaki, do you have any idea how much that scoreboard cost?"
Tenma just stood there, mortified. "I didn't mean to hit the scoreboard... I thought I was throwing it at the wall."
"Scoreboard wall... close enough," Riku commented with a grin.
"Yeah, next time, Tenma, try not to destroy school property, okay?" the teacher said, trying to laugh it off while clearly struggling to hold back frustration.
"I'll... I'll try not to," Tenma muttered, sinking into the background as the gym continued to echo with laughter.
The Tattoo Master Returns (Again)
By the end of the day, Tenma was ready to crawl into a hole and disappear forever. But at least he knew where he could escape: the world of tattoos.
Back at his apartment, Tenma set up his station, his hands steadying as he pulled on the gloves and prepped his equipment. This was where his mind cleared. This was his zone, his sanctuary. A tattoo was a masterpiece, something that made sense.
Tonight, he had a special client—Hiroshi, a local musician, who wanted a large, intricate dragon tattoo running down his arm.
As the needle buzzed and ink flowed, Tenma smiled. This is my true self, he thought, finally able to focus.