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Bright, flourescent lighting pierces Kiryu’s vision as he jolts awake. He blinks as he shifts, tilting his head from one side to the other to crack his stiff neck. He’s unsure what time he fell asleep or what time it is now, but he’s more tired than he was before. The hospital room isn’t the most spacious or comfortable, and Kiryu had only meant to stop here for a short moment. He doesn’t want to overstay his welcome, after all, especially considering he’d had to lie his way into the room. But Nishiki was asleep when he’d arrived, so he’d sat and waited and fell asleep himself.
“Well, look who decided to wake up.”
The voice nearly makes him jump. Nishiki hasn’t moved position much, so Kiryu assumed the other man was still asleep. Admittedly, Nishiki looks worse than Kiryu’s ever seen him, and not only because of the burn marks marring his sharp features. Though, enough of him managed to come out unscathed that he still looks like Nishiki. He doesn’t look at the spot where the blanket lays flat against the mattress. Not because he can’t handle it, but because he doesn’t think Nishiki would want to see him look.
“You’re—” Kiryu starts.
Nishiki coughs, interrupting him. A moment later, he speaks, “What are you doing here, Kiryu?”
Kiryu has no answer for this question. Once, it wouldn’t have been a question at all. Rather than come up with words that they both know would never truly satisfy Nishiki's question, he twists his neck awkwardly to settle his gaze out the window. It faces a public parking garage, which is not exactly much for scenery, but it’s something.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” he says, at length.
Nishiki lets out a derisive noise. “Hardly. Besides, I tried to kill you and—”
“Yumi’s dead,” Kiryu says without preamble.
There’s a long pause before Nishiki says, “Oh. And the girl?”
“Haruka?” Kiryu asks. “She’s—Well, she did see her mother die. And a lot more. But, she’s okay, I think. Maybe even handling it all better than I am.”
“She’s staying with you?”
Kiryu nods.
After that, they sit for a while in uncomfortable silence. Kiryu still can’t really wrap his mind around everything that had happened since he’d gotten out of prison and leading up the explosion in the Millennium Tower. All he knows is Yumi’s dead, Kazama’s dead, and he’d thought Nishiki— Well. He didn't think he'd have much left here, after all. He’d been ready to turn himself in, to go back to prison, and if there wasn’t Haruka to think about he might have.
Nishiki exhales audibly, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry,” he says, without making eye contact, in a way that some might interpret as insincere, but Kiryu knows better. This is Nishiki, after all. Kiryu knows better than anyone.
Still. “No. I don’t want to hear that.” After all, it isn’t his place to grant absolution for Nishiki’s sins. Kiryu understands that nothing will ever make up for everything that Nishiki did. And yet, here he is. He’s not looking for Nishiki to make up for things though. He’s only here for Nishiki.
“Why are you here?”
“I don’t know how long they’re going to keep you here,” Kiryu says. “But you have to go somewhere once you’re out. Someone has to take you home.”
Nishiki says nothing for a long moment. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Do you have a better one?” Kiryu asks, frowning.
Nishiki probably has at least a million reasons in mind that Kiryu shouldn’t be making an offer like this. Yet, Kiryu knows none of those reasons actually matter. Not to him. Not when it’s Nishiki.
Nishiki doesn’t look at him. “You have Haruka to think about now. Plus, I’m the reason Yumi is dead. You should both hate me. If you want to make things even, that’s fine. I would prefer that. But your help? I don’t want your pity, Kiryu.”
“That doesn’t answer the question,” Kiryu says.
“I’ll figure it out.”
Kiryu lets out an exasperated breath. It doesn’t make any sense that Nishiki would want to stay in Kamurocho, of all places. It’s not like the Tojo Clan has any room for him now; the Nishikiyama family has already moved on to a new leader. And though Kiryu would never think it himself, he’s full aware of what happens to guys that are seen as damaged goods. At best, Nishiki will be ignored. And while that's probably better than being part of things, leaving would be even better.
“There’s no point in punishing yourself,” Kiryu says. “But I’m not going to force you. Just think about it.”
#
Establishing an orphanage in Okinawa takes a lot of work, and equally importantly, a lot of money. He leaves out a lot of details to potential investors. Mostly he injects his own money. He gets a few donations from “anonymous” individuals, but he’s not a fool. He’s also not so naive as to think not to accept it.
Building a life from the ground up is hard work, too. He doesn’t fit in on Okinawa, not with his leather shoes and suit pants. But the locals are pleasant enough, even if they spend longer than necessary telling them about their relatives or neighbor’s children who moved to Tokyo, and even if he has to dodge questions about what made him leave it. There’s a lot of work to do. It keeps him busy. Often, he doesn’t even think about Yumi or Kazama, intentionally keeping himself too busy with projects setting things up to dwell on that. Occasionally he thinks of Nishiki, only when he catches a glimpse of someone who from a distance looks almost like he did before the explosion, and for a second he wonders if the other man has changed his mind and decided to come out here. Mostly, though, he’s focused on moving on from the Tojo Clan and all that connects him to it.
But things catch up. They always catch up.
As if Kazama and Yumi and Shinji weren’t curses enough, Terada is added to the list. But he does not want to bear these curses, so he perhaps foolishly pulls Daigo up from the depths, and into the mix. The impending sense of responsibility doesn’t end there, however.
And, in between it all, well, he’s already visited graves of the dead. What could it hurt to visit a grave of the living?
He has to climb up three flights of metal stairs to find the studio apartment. Not exactly the most convenient setup for a man missing a leg, he supposes, but it’s unlikely that whoever set Nishiki up here considered that. And if they had, well, that was likely the worse option.
Nishiki opens the door. His hair has grown back, but he’s tied it into a topknot. The scarring on his face is an improvement from what Kiryu saw in the hospital nearly a year ago.
“Kiryu,” he says, “how did you find me?”
Kiryu says nothing. They both know the answer to that question. He hadn’t even needed to ask for Nishida from the Majima family to let this little detail slip. Likely at Majima’s request, maybe as a test for Kiryu, maybe because he didn’t want to be seen as doing something helpful; it was hard to guess with the wildcard that was Majima. Kiryu was grateful anyway, though, he wouldn’t ever dare say that to the other man.
Now, Nishiki tilts his head. “You’re worse than I am. You actually left Kamurocho, and now—”
“And now.” Kiryu agrees.
“What are you doing here?”
“I just wanted you to know the offer still stands. If you ever want to take it.”
Nishiki exhales slowly. He leans a crutch against the doorframe to reach into his pocket and pull out a cigarette which he lights and puts to his lips, watching his own hands the whole time.
“You never were one to waste words,” Nishiki says. “Do you at least want to come in?”
“No.” Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he’s worried he won’t want to leave if he says yes.
Nishiki doesn’t look surprised or annoyed by this, only nods like it’s the answer he expected.
“Look. Once all this Go-Ryu stuff calms down, I’m going back to Okinawa. I think you should come home with us.”
Nishiki takes a slow drag of the cigarette, maybe to avoid saying anything at first. “That’s your home,” he says. “Not mine.”
“It could be,” Kiryu replies.
There’s a pause before Nishiki says, “And your cop friend? Wouldn’t you rather take her back with you?”
Kiryu pulls his brow in, unsure how Nishiki even knows about Sayama, less sure about how she’s even relevant to this discussion. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“Well. If not her, someone else eventually, right? You know having me around would ruin the mood. You think most women want to walk into a sideshow?”
“Nishiki,” Kiryu warns.
“Come on, Kiryu. I know what I look like. No need to sugarcoat it.”
Kiryu grabs the back of Nishiki’s neck, forcing the other man to look at him. Nishiki’s eyes go wide, and he tries to slip out of Kiryu’s grip, but Kiryu has always been stronger, even when there were four feet between the two of them. And no, Kiryu won’t lie to Nishiki. He sees the scarring, the uneven tone of skin, the changes to the side of his face that got the worst of the blast, the results of almost-but-not-quite perfect cosmetic surgeries to try to restore what was once there. But mostly he sees Nishiki.
“I know what you survived,” he says.
“Most people aren’t you, Kiryu. Women and children cross the street when they see me sometimes. Do you know what that’s like? Things aren’t like they used to be. I couldn’t get a woman to come home with me today even if I was worth one billion yen. Don’t let me ruin that for you, too.”
“I don’t care about that,” Kiryu replies.
“Of course you don’t,” Nishiki replies without malice.
Kiryu releases him. “I’ll let you know when we’re leaving, and you can show up at the airport or not. It’s your choice.”
#
His room in the orphanage is small, but it’s enough to fit two futons.
The orphanage itself fills within the year. Things are crowded, and messy, and stressful. Kids are loud. They cry. They’re mean to each other. But they also laugh. They help each other with homework or seashell hunting or playing wiffle ball on the beach. He gets used to them running to him to settle disputes (he tries not to get involved over most things, but sometimes accidentally takes both sides.)
Mitsuo buzzes around Nishiki more than Kiryu himself. And the kids go to him for things that they don’t go to him or even Haruka for. He’s their keeper of secrets, or at least he lets them think so before telling Kiryu when they’re all asleep or in school. The kids, over time, also try to help him, and usually he’s a good sport about it, but occasionally Kiryu has to redirect them.
Rarely, they let themselves take a break. Or Haruka and the kids force them to. Tonight they’re in one of the few izakayas in the part of town closest to the neighborhood. Low lights reflect against the slick bartop. Kiryu presses his elbows against it, leaning his weight forward slightly.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve done something like this,” Nishiki says.
“Think they have karaoke? I could go for a round of Judgement.”
Nishiki snorts. “No one listens to music like that anymore.”
Things feel normal. Not like they used to feel, and Kiryu is not so unwise as to believe they will ever be the same as when they were younger. Nishiki has changed. Kiryu has changed. But this new normal isn’t bad. It’s comfortable, most of the time, at least at times like this when Nishiki isn’t looking at him like he’s still waiting for Kiryu to come to his senses and tell him to fuck off and get out of their lives. Kiryu’s senses are fully intact. Perhaps now more than back when they were up-and-comers in the Tojo Clan. He knows more now. Knows better than to think the life he wants is somewhere light doesn’t reach.
When laughter erupts behind them from a group of women, the sound startles him enough that he glances in their direction. It’s enough for them to notice, to his dismay. One of the women approaches them and taps Kiryu’s shoulder. He doesn’t bother looking at her.
“Excuse me?” she says.
“Hm?” he says, glancing only as much as strictly necessary to meet her gaze.
“My friend over there thinks you’re handsome.”
Kiryu frowns, forehead scrunching. His grip around the glass in front of him tightens.
“Would you go over and talk to her? It’d make her night. And it’s her birthday.”
Kiryu takes a sip of the drink in front of him before saying, “I’m busy.”
“You don’t look all that busy to me.”
Kiryu focuses a flat stare at her until she sighs and walks away muttering about how rude people from Tokyo are under her breath.
Nishiki looks at him, curiously. “Her friend is pretty. Well, for Okinawa standards, anyway. Why’d you turn her down? You can’t still be holding a flame for that cop in America?”
“It’s not that,” Kiryu says.
“You know,” Nishiki says at length, “You don’t have to turn women down on my account. I know what I look like. If you’re trying to spare my feelings, it’s not helping. One of us might as well get some company.”
“I have company,” Kiryu says. “You.”
Nishiki snorts, “Don’t be like that. You know what I meant.”
The teasing is at least an improvement.
“I’m serious though,” Nishiki says, “I don’t want you to hold yourself back because women don’t give me the same attention they used to.”
“Is it that hard to believe that I’m not thinking about your ego?” Kiryu asks.
Nishiki concedes with an exhale.
Prior to everything, Nishiki had always been the one to waste his time with women whose names he didn’t bother to learn. That had never interested Kiryu when he was younger, it certainly doesn’t now that he’s pushing forty. Still, for a guy like Nishiki, the explosion changing his looks, permanently scarring his face. Well, Kiryu can’t grant atonement for Nishiki’s sins, but perhaps something greater has tried to take what they can get. Kiryu’s eyes linger on him for longer than he means. He knows this makes Nishiki self-conscious, so he tries not to look most of the time, but right now he can’t quite stop himself.
“I know,” Nishiki says, breaking the silence between them, “Not everything you do is because of me.”
“A lot of it is, though,” Kiryu replies.
“Don’t try to soften the blow. I always knew I needed you more than you’d ever need me. I wish I hadn’t been right.”
Kiryu watches Nishiki for another moment before saying anything. Kiryu doesn’t think he would have done what Nishiki did had their roles been reversed. But Kiryu had never had a sister to lose.
“Nishiki,” Kiryu says, “do you think I would have told you to come all the way to Okinawa if I didn’t need you?”
“Yes,” Nishiki says without hesitating. “That’s just who you are.”
“Don’t paint me like a saint.”
Nishiki laughs. “I’m not. I’m painting you like you.”
#
The orphanage walls are quiet which would almost be suspicious, if he didn’t know Haruka had likely made sure everyone was in bed on time. He feels bad, sometimes, putting the level of responsibility on Haruka that no child should have to bare, but he sees in her something he recognizes. The curse of responsibility. Telling her not to would not undo everything she’s been through, would not lift the curse.
He makes sure all the lights are off and double checks the locks before returning to his and Nishiki’s joint room.
Nishiki sits to work his prosthetic off once the door to their room is closed. “Imagine,” he says, “even if women still found me to be a pretty boy. I’d have to take them back to the room I share with another man and they’d have to see me like this.”
Kiryu steps forward, dropping to one knee, and moving Nishiki’s hands out of the way.
Nishiki doesn’t try to stop him. He does say, “I’m perfectly capable of taking it off myself, Kiryu.”
“I know,” Kiryu replies, looking up to meet Nishiki’s gaze. “I know what you’re capable of. Now, let me take care of you.”
Nishiki goes silent, glancing away. “Isn’t that what I’ve been doing since I followed you here?”
Kiryu presses a palm against the floor. He shifts, lifting himself close enough that Nishiki has no choice but to look at him even if he tries not to. It takes a moment, but Nishiki does meet his gaze.
“What are—” Nishiki starts.
Kiryu presses his forehead against Nishiki’s, grabbing his head behind his ear to hold him in place. He’s close enough that he hears the hitch in Nishiki’s breath. “Let me take care of you,” he repeats before kissing him. Nishiki’s mouth tastes like oranges and whiskey and cigarettes.
Nishiki doesn’t push him away. But when Kiryu pulls back, Nishiki watches him carefully. “I know what this is. You see me like a charity case. Another orphan to take in.”
“You’re a lot of things,” Kiryu says, “but you’re not a very good listener.”
“Then why?”
“Because I need you.”
Nishiki’s face twists in a few directions before he nods. Kiryu lowers himself back toward the floor to carefully help Nishiki remove the prosthetic, trying his best to make it a painless process, but he knows even on good days it’s not necessarily the nicest feeling. He makes up for it after by kissing his way up Nishiki’s inner thighs. Nishiki shivers. Kiryu undresses him further, tastes more of him, pulls him onto the futon. In the grand scheme of things, heaven does not last long.
“Sorry,” Nishiki says. “It’s… well. It’s been a while.”
“Don’t apologize. You were amazing.”
Nishiki’s cheeks turn pink and he drops his face into his hands. “Of course you’d say something embarrassing.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” Kiryu replies.
Nishiki has, evidently, learned to ignore some of his more egregious faults, because he doesn’t scold him for saying it. Instead, he just says, “I should say thank you, I guess. For everything. For making me come home.