Chapter Text
"I killed him… A direct Tojo Clan associate..."
Nishiki's voice is small and distant with disbelief in the cavernous room. Dojima Sohei, their patriarch, is lying dead in a pool of blood, a spread of bullet holes blossoming red across his body. Yumi is crumpled against the couch and shaking like a leaf.
Kiryu tries to speak but chokes on it, thick bile and panic strangling his voice.
Lightning cuts through the blanket of night outside the window, a flash bulb illuminating the grisly scene, and Nishiki makes a choice.
"Get… Get Yumi out of here, and take care of my sister. Please!"
"Nishiki—"
"Don't just stand there." He staggers to his feet in the dark room, his blood splattered hands clasping Kiryu's. "This is my burden to bear bro, I'll be okay, just please!"
"...Don't do anything stupid." Tears burn at his eyes.
Nishiki gives a shaky laugh. "Five minutes too late with your advice as usual."
Shaking out of his stupor, Kiryu helps Yumi to her feet and hurries out the back.
It's raining hard. The harsh neon of Kamurocho's night bleeds into the growing puddles of red and blue lights of police cruisers. He leads them through alley after alley, following a roundabout path back to the family office to avoid running into the cops, working on the instinct worn into his feet by countless patrols through the clogged arteries of the city.
Kazama will know what to do. He always does. He can fix this.
Yumi jerks out of his hand and looks at him—right through him—hair clinging wetly to her face. "W-Where are you taking me?"
"Yumi it's not safe here." He grabs for her hand again and she steps backwards, shaking her head.
He steps forward as gentle and non-threatening as he can be. She screams and runs.
"Yumi!" He runs after her until two men step in front of him at the mouth of the alley.
"Woah there pal, how bout you let the lady alone huh?"
"No it's not- she's my friend, please-" He tries to weave past and keep an eye on Yumi's shrinking figure in the distance.
"She don't seem interested in talking to her friend right now, so just turn around before we gotta teach you some manners." The tall man smacks his fist into his palm.
He could undoubtedly lay these two out, but then what? Chase a screaming woman through the streets while the cops are just a few blocks away? He grits his teeth and turns, jogging down the alley while the two would be saviors jeer and pat themselves on the back.
He doubles around and begins searching for Yumi but she's vanished into the crowds. Three more rounds turn up the same, so he hurries up the stairs to the family office two at a time and blows past the man manning the front door.
Kazama could be hewn from stone as Kiryu breathlessly explains the situation; whatever he's thinking is as opaque to Kiryu as always. He places some calls while Kiryu sits with his head in his hands, the drumming rain on the roof pounding against his skull like a hammer.
Kashiwagi places a can of beer in front of him silently and sits beside him on the well worn office couch. Even his comforting presence does little for Kiryu's frayed nerves and his mind runs in circles with everything he should have done differently.
The court date comes, and Yumi is still missing. Kiryu weighs what to tell Nishiki in terms of pain; is it worse for Yumi to be missing, or for her to be safe and refusing to testify? Neither option sits well with him, but at least the truth keeps the blame squarely on him.
Standing at Nishiki's defense is a well worn and sleek lawyer who knows a losing case when he sees one and recognizes his position is not to win, but to minimize the damage like the cold and steady hand of a battlefield medic plugging his fingers into a mauled artery.
Nishiki's pretty boy looks garner him some sympathy, but it only goes so far for a self admitted yakuza.
The next time Kiryu sees him he's dressed in drab greys behind a sheet of plexiglass, his meticulously kept locks are gone and replaced with an ugly buzz that makes him look even smaller than he is.
Two weeks after that at his next available visitation period Nishiki’s covered in bruises and withdrawn. Kiryu breaks the bad news to him as gently as he can; his sister's surgery didn't work, he's sorry, he's so sorry, she's on the organ waiting list now and all they can do is hope.
After that Nishiki stops showing up at all. Kiryu can't bring himself to blame him.
He still visits the jail, sits for an hour on the hard plastic chair staring at a door that doesn’t open, and leaves, twice a month.
The cold metal of the bench steals the warmth from his body in the frigid December air at public park 3 on a sullen Tuesday evening, the flickering trash fire throwing ephemeral shadows across his face. It’ll be Christmas tomorrow, and he’ll have to spend it all on his own. He buries his face in his hands and stews miserably, feeling like every choice he’s made has been the wrong one. Maybe if he’d gotten there faster, or if he’d listened to Kazama and stayed put, or if he’d helped Nishiki to run or hide, or even taken the fall for him…
He’s jolted out of his spiral by a black gloved hand clapping him solidly on his shoulder, the contact sends a bolt of raw tension zinging through the surface of his skin. A metal bat crunches into the gravel.
“Yo, Kiryu-chan.” Majima’s voice is flat. “C’mon, we’re gonna go a few rounds at the batting center.”
Kiryu looks at him blankly and grits his teeth.
“I’m not in the mood right now, Majima.” He growls, not bothering with honorifics.
“Woah there big guy, I ain’t tryin’ to fight ya. This time.” He blinks pointedly, which might have been meant as a wink if not for the eyepatch.
Kiryu feels his eye twitch. Everything’s going to shit and now he’s going to be hounded to hell and back by this absolute lunatic who now wants to play baseball like they’re best buds? Like he can just walk into the gap left in Kiryu’s life?
He reels back and swings hard, connecting with Majima’s jaw with a satisfying crack.
Majima looks back at him, stunned, before dropping into a mad cackle. “If that’s how ya want it Kiryu-chan, batter up!”
Kiryu ducks the wild first swing and darts in close, driving a ferocious uppercut at Majima’s outstretched chin. With near supernatural speed and flexibility Majima twists out of the way and carries the momentum into a point blank swing that carries Kiryu off his feet.
"Don't tell me ya kept me waitin' this long for weak shit like that! I wanna see the dragon." Majima taps his bat behind his shoulders and struts as Kiryu winces and gets back to his feet.
Everything about the man was a glaring neon sign that screamed 'WARNING: Pay attention to me!' and failing to heed that was going to get Kiryu mangled. His focus snaps together to the single, infuriating point that is Majima and he rolls his shoulder, waiting for the man to make his move.
The speed at which he swaps from a casual stance to a bone crushing swing is breathtaking, and Kiryu only barely gets out of the way in time. He darts to the right, slipping into Majima's blind spot with a satisfied smirk only to catch a knee to the ribs.
There's not enough force behind it in Majima's off balance stance to stop him however, and Kiryu smashes Majima into the building wall behind him. Kiryu feints and Majima slips low to dart around him, but gets snagged by the lapels and thrown overhand to the ground.
Majima wheezes on impact that breaks into a cackle, his bat dropped in favor of a whirlwind of kicks that force Kiryu up against the wall. It's death by a thousand cuts as one by one a spinning heel manages to slip through his guard, forcing him into the gamble of a massive leap and roll away from the maelstrom of limbs.
It pays off; he finds himself within arms reach of a large illuminated sign.
There's a moment of panic on Majima's part when he sees Kiryu reach for the sign, Majima takes his eye off him for a split second to reach for his bat and gets knocked ass over tea kettle by the unexpectedly hurled advertisement.
It did promise some real knock out girls.
Kiryu charges forward to strike the decisive blow on his prone form but Majima counters like a snake, entangling his legs and dragging him to the ground with him.
They roll in a struggle of blind, frenzied blows, neither willing to concede. It's brutal, and bloody, and dirty, all animalistic teeth and nails and grunts, and it's the first thing that's felt real since that day, the only thing that's felt right.
Kiryu gets a hand around Majima's throat and squeezes until he goes limp and collapses on top of him. He shoves Majima off and staggers to his feet, panting and feeling light.
He turns to leave the park and hears Majima croak out a laugh behind him, shrill and joyous.
"You really are somethin' special Kiryu-chan."
Kiryu doesn't bother to respond, simply giving a wave and limping away.
Part of him hates that he crumbled and gave Majima the senseless fight he's been trying to pry out of Kiryu since they met, the rest of him feels…
Content. Good, even.
A bitter bile rises in his throat when he realizes it, it feels like a betrayal to Nishiki and to Yumi to feel like that without them. He squashes it down and focuses on the pain seeping into his bones as the adrenaline wears off, trying to burn it into his mind to keep him away from succumbing to another pointless fight with Majima down the road. Whenever his mood lapses away from miserable he digs a thumb into the bruise on his cheek or across his skinned elbow under his mud and blood streaked sleeve.
...He should probably get these cleaned up. Autopilot carries him forward while he continues to punish himself.
New Serena is dark when he stumbles his way to the entrance, a politely written 'closed until further notice' hanging from the door. He tries it anyways, and the door opens.
"Sorry, we're closed!" A shaky voice calls out from the dark when he steps inside.
"Reina? It's me." He answers tentatively.
"Oh, Kiryu…"
It's too dark to see more than her outline hunched against the bar; he feels like an intruder.
What is he doing?
She's clearly grieving and he's here to what, get cleaned up after picking a fight with the man he'd worked the hardest to avoid? Drink himself into a stupor? Seek validation on the decision that hurt her so deeply?
It's disgustingly selfish. She doesn't deserve to face that.
"...I'm sorry. For everything. I'll do what I can." He bows deeply. "Sorry to have bothered you right now."
Her dark figure shuffles as if to say something. but remains silent.
He turns tail and flees, every 'what if' nipping at his heels like fetid rats.
Kamurocho feels claustrophobic. He's seeing Yumi out of the corner of his eye every time a woman walks by, with Nishiki right there beside her.
It feels like a bad dream that he doesn't wake up from until he smashes Majima's face into the concrete again and feels his pulse quicken. It's self destructive, almost certainly, a new crosshatch of knife wounds on top of his freshly blossomed bruises, but he can't bring himself to care. Fighting Majima, he doesn't think about anything else—can't think about anything else, just the violent collision between them like waves breaking on the shore.
“I got a two for one special on Kiryu-chan~” Majima sighs through a mouth full of blood, standing tall and proud over Kiryu's crumpled form. "Must be my lucky day."
Majima puts a hand out to help him up and Kiryu ignores it, getting to his feet on shaking legs.
It's been a long time since he's lost.
People count on him to win, so he does, because he can't stand letting them down. Here? He'll do everything in his power to win, to deprive Majima of the satisfaction of beating him because, deep down, he's got a nasty competitive streak, but there's no one to let down if he loses.
It's safe.
He likes that.
"I'll see you around, Majima." He laughs, feeling almost giddy for the first time since that night. Maybe longer, if he's honest.
Poppo bandages patch him up just fine. He doesn't need to bother Reina with this.
He's got it under control.
The bar mama at Earth Angel lets him slump against her counter at the end of a chain of Friday night bar hopping. When he tries to apologize she shushes him and slides a glass of water and a packet of aspirin to him, reminding him that just last week he stopped her bar from being robbed, and that it's safer for him to sleep it off here instead of going to some less reputable piss alley joint that'd take in someone in his state and make off with his wallet.
Again.
He groans a thank you into the countertop. The fog of alcohol muddles his thoughts into a nice, slow soup that he can wholly ignore.
He doesn't think about how much he misses Nishiki, he thinks about how nice that whiskey tasted.
He doesn't think about how Yumi's still missing in the most dangerous city in the country, he thinks about the soothing croon of the singer on the radio.
He doesn't think about how he's going to be running his own family all alone, or how undisturbed Kazama's been through all of this, or how if he'd managed to find Majima today he wouldn't have needed to drink until he can't see straight just to get some peace and quiet in his own head.
In fact, he doesn't think at all.