Chapter Text
On East Sotenbori street in Sotenbori, 2012.
The city carried on as always. It did not care that one new person had arrived on its streets, it did not care about the memories - good and bad - that said individual had. It welcomed him back with open arms and familiar landmarks that haunted one too many of his nightmares, and it seemed even happy to see him back. How did it dare to have such balls about it?
“Fuckin’ city…” Majima grumbled under his breath. “Never even wanted to come back in the first place…” He continued. His lips wrapped around a cigarette as he took a drag and swallowed his own complaints along with the smoke. It was meant to calm his nerves, not get him more riled up. Majima had been on high alert since he set foot down onto the cursed pavement of Sotenbori. Worse than that, the taxi had left him in East Sotenbori Street and the district seemed to be happily welcoming him back with the smell of takoyaki and a giant red crab. Christ, would they ever get rid of that red monstrosity? Majima doubted it.
The streets were cleaner and there was a walkway along the river, but the city was still pretty much the same for Majima. It would be a lie to say that all of the memories that he had had been bad ones. But it was also too painful to try to recall some of them, so he preferred to drown in the things that haunted him, the eyes that had watched him and the smells that had chased him for two years.
Still, he was here because Katsuya had asked. He couldn’t say no to Katsuya. Even if the man thought he owed something to Majima for helping him get into the Omi Alliance, which he didn’t, he should probably curse Majima for getting him into the yakuza world. Despite that, he thought he was indebted to Katsuya as well. He was in debt with Katsuya about so many things that he had never been able to articulate into words, but he hoped the other man understood enough. He had many unspoken things with the Omi Alliance’s Chief of Headquarters. It was unbelievable to think how far Katsuya had gone in the Omi Alliance, although Majima wasn’t sure why he was surprised, Katsuya could do anything he wanted. He was charming, collected, and found it easy to inspire people. It didn’t hurt either that he was well built and could hold his own in a fight.
Majima allowed himself the small pleasure of kicking a discarded can with the point of his shoe, making the silver click against the tin, even though the sound was quickly drained out by the city. This was another thing that certainly didn’t seem to change from this place. Look deep enough into its corners and they were filled with filth. Not as much as Kamurocho, but unlike this one, Majima thrived in Kamurocho’s filth. Here it just felt oppressing and disgusting.
As petty revenge, Majima found himself tossing his cigarette stub to the floor. A decision that was quickly followed by a pang in his chest, he deeply disliked littering. Ideas of the world going to shit for things like global warming had found its way to his mind when he was younger and they had stuck. It was important. He hadn’t made his family recycle every piece of trash that came out of their office for nothing. He leaned down to pick up the thoroughly stepped in stub and the can he had kicked, throwing them at a passing trash can as he continued making his way to the bar Katsuya had suggested for their meeting.
Every step only made the painful sludge crawl up his throat, closer and closer. Maybe, he could vomit in one of these backalleys. He was getting old. He felt it in every inch of his skin, in his bones. He couldn’t outrun age, and it infuriated him that other people didn’t seem to see that they were getting old . Kiryu, Saejima… They didn’t see it, but he did. He felt it every single day, and he felt it again now. As the anxiety of seeing Katsuya again washed over him - It had never gone away. He still felt responsible for many things -, so did the feeling of getting old. It seemed that seeing familiar faces from so long ago brought that haunting thought to the forefront of his mind, knocking at the walls and getting louder.
-
On a roof in Sotenbori, 1992.
His lips beautifully wrapped around the hastily rolled joint, hope and prayers holding it together more than skill, as he took a drag.
“How did ya even manage to roll such a shitty joint?” Majima asked, with a laughter that allowed too much smoke to escape his mouth, if what he was looking for was getting high. He couldn’t help but tease Katsuya. The man had admitted to never having rolled a joint and Mirei and him, after sharing a look, had made a decision.
“I told you, this is not something I had done before.” Katsuya said, a slight frown escaping the mask of indifference that he was trying to hold close to his chest. He leaned back, resting with his hands on the floor, his legs stretched across the roof of Mirei’s apartment. This corner of Sotenbori was a good one, Majima had decided a long time ago. You could hear the bustling of the streets, but it felt far away, like the city continued on without you, almost like he wasn’t in Sotenbori .
“Leave him alone.” Mirei said, slapping Majima’s arm lightly. She was laying down, resting her head on Majima’s lap and her feet on Katsuya’s.
This roof had also done one more thing for Majima. It created some new memories for him. It held secret, quiet things, loving gestures. This is where he had first kissed Mirei and it had tasted so sweet. It almost felt like she could cure every single one of his problems, like he wasn’t a yakuza anymore, like he didn’t betray Saejima, like he didn’t fail to protect Makoto, like he hadn’t been trapped on a leash for three years - a leash he still had, Shimano didn’t forget to tug on it when his dog was gone for too long.
His mind was already dizzy from a previous smoke, and as Majima looked down at Mirei, the only thought his brain could muster was that she looked beautiful. So, he didn’t even stop himself from leaning down and stealing a kiss from her lips. He didn’t know what Mirei saw in him, why she had married him. He had asked two weeks after meeting, with alcohol flowing in his veins and his nose still stained white with powder, as he drowned in love.
When he parted away and looked back up, he held his hand out, passing Katsuya the shaky joint he had rolled. Katsuya had been staring at them, hard. Lately, he had caught Katsuya looking at them that way. He knew what Katsuya’s eyes were saying, although it felt way more like screams at this point. He didn’t know what to do about it. He saw that same look in Mirei’s eyes sometimes when they were looking at Katsuya.
In those moments, he took the time to wonder if something would have flourished between them had he not been in the picture. He wouldn’t have been surprised, they were a good match. Both of them had strong convictions, a passion for their careers, and a willingness to do what it took to see their dreams come through. Or maybe, it would’ve been the same as he was now with Mirei, a secret, tucked away so she could follow her dreams. He didn’t blame her for it, she was young. Too young, he thought in those quiet moments where they lay together, her head on his chest, her breath quiet and her eyes closed. Maybe Katsuya would’ve been better.
Majima found himself lazily looking at the man sitting next to him as he took a drag from the joint, and rested his hand upon Mirei’s ankle. His eyelids felt droopy and he almost wanted to laugh at the situation.
He moved one of his hands that were holding him up, so he could rest it upon Katsuya’s when the man moved his away from Mirei’s ankle. Majima chuckled lightly, when he felt the other man tense up at the touch but he, in an act that would surprise both himself and Majima, decidedly turned his hand and intertwined his fingers with Majima’s gloved ones.
Their eyes met, for the millionth time since they had met each other, but never before had they held such an understanding for the other.