Chapter Text
Almost all his men had gone home for the night. Today was just another day in the mix of this year so far. He stopped caring about the date or time quite a while ago now. All he did these days was stamp his approval on papers and tone out meetings, luckily no one expected anything else of him for the time being it seemed. Unsure if it was due to fear of disturbing him or just his subordinates being self-sufficient, he didn't complain either way. After spending decades building himself up he was told he deserved a break.
it was eery to be in a state of pause.
It was eating him alive.
-
Majima looked around the spacious office. It was located at the very top of the newly built Kamurocho Hills building. The windows span the whole room, casting the glow of neon lights into the dimly lit room. The bright reds and yellows painted his sharp cheekbones nicely, you almost couldn't see the bags under his eye at this angle.
Glancing over to the three empty Red Bull cans that were shish kabobed on his tantō, he rolled his eye in annoyance. He had slammed the heart attack drinks all before noon. Yet, to no one's surprise, he felt nothing. He had often dealt with long bouts of insomnia that left him in a husk state to which these sugary things couldn't hold up against. Lounging back in his maroon chair he breathed in deeply trying to get up the strength to move. Motivation evaded him like a snake in tall grass.
Not only was he the owner of his own company, he was also incredibly free. He could go do whatever he wanted today, or yesterday, or the day before that. Hell even tomorrow. He had loads of money these days, he could buy out an entire cabaret and not think twice.
However it just felt like It didn't matter anymore. It's been a few months since he felt this cold numbing sludge enter his chest and settle in his joints. Lately his mind was the same as late night TV static. Reruns and buffering. Day in, day out. Even living in this neon jungle, everything felt dull. Coated in the same sludge glued to his organs.
He even struggled getting out of bed this morning. He hates being in bed, the useless furniture was there as if to mock him. He should have Nishida just throw the damn thing out.
He didn't even know why he bothered going home most days. It's empty. No one is waiting for him there. He doesn't have anywhere to be anymore. This empty feeling wasn't going away, nothing he did seemed to even put a dent in it.
‘Nothings working’
He tried every drug you can imagine and yet he slowly began to feel nothing at all…But dammit if he didn't love speed when it used to work. Speed was good for a while, he abused it when he would go on his 78 hour benders around the clock planning how to goad Kiryu into a fight. He would be in his apartment scribbling long winded notes onto a whiteboard, do a bump, and erase everything he just wrote down.
It was fun and all, but what he really fiend for was the high intensity bloody fist fights he found himself in with his favorite living legend. The coke really just made every punch, kick, and throw that much more delectable. The bubble burst not too long after as he realized he only had a job to do with Kiryu. With a little help from some much needed substances, he was able to complete the job and not dwell too much on it.
Kiryu was better than he originally was in his prime and could take on anyone now. Now…he didn't need Majima stalking him anymore. He learned all that he could and there was nothing left. No amount of friendly matches of darts, pool, or even karaoke was going to save that.
Chasing him through dirty alleyways for a sloppy fight. Surprise attacking him from above and below. All the hard work came to an end. He was just a stepping stone afterall and it was time to get discarded. He knew it was coming.
Being left to drown after taking a nasty bullet to the gut should have been enough.
He loved this game. God was he just tired of playing it though-
Grumbling, he finally dragged his forty something year old pile of bones up and off the chair. He stood and swayed for a moment feeling a slight headrush. How pathetic…how frustrating, he felt so annoyed with himself. What even was this? He just felt tired. Like every second he was breathing was exhausting, blinking was a marathon. The constant annoyance made his jaw tense up. He felt a deep anger bubbling in his core, yet he was too tired to acknowledge it.
Slowly it simmered under his skin as he felt drips of self loathing coat the back of his teeth.
Nothing bad even happened?! It went exactly like it was supposed to go! Why is this ache still here?!
So what if his only lov-...friend up and left him! He was for once just existing. He worked hard, he looked after his men, he kept himself out of excessive trouble… This was stupid. The anger got imbued with a soft sadness that Majima did everything to ignore.
‘Why here? Why now?-
‘When does this end? I don't want to do this anymore…’
With his thoughts a blur, he ripped the tantō from his desk and for a brief second the loud static in his mind flipped to a channel he'd rather mute, a combination of voices whispered to him. Some the voices of men he feared, one he loved, some the voice of a woman he cherished, layered together in a sick symphony of torment-
‘No ones around. We could just check to make sure it's still sharp?...right? That'd be fine.
Come on~
you haven't felt anything in months. What's one wrong step?..one slip of the hand?
The drugs lost their touch? You know this will work~
you don't owe anyone anything… they abandoned you! Used you~
We can make it stop.
Go on mutt…relax a little with it...you deserve it~!’
A sick smirk crawled up his lips as he closed his eye in focus. A creeping ache of regret sunk into his stomach as he slowly turned off his morals.The tantō darted swiftly to lay taunt against the thin skin of his exposed hip bone. The cool kiss of the metal soothed a bit of the static in his head. Taking slow shallow breaths he felt the swift sting of it biting his skin clean open. Red glossy beads swarmed the line and began to blur into each other. Majima moaned out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
“Oh..f-fuck”
The minutes felt like hours as a daze warped his vision. He could feel his body tremble, his hands making quick work like a second nature. One deep burning sting quickly turned to fifty in the matter of minutes, endorphins rushed his synapses and he inhaled sharply. Each slash was deeper than the last, the tissue breaking apart like waves.
Groaning as his chest heaved, the euphoria was akin to the best orgasm he could remember. His tense muscles cascaded into a relaxed position for the first time in what felt like years, his left hand holding the skin taut was tingling as warm sticky blood rinsed over his finger tips.
His lips parted softly as he breathed out a hiss. The blade swiftly arched its way across his lower stomach, the bleeding quickly pooling at the top of his leather pants. The static in his mind stopped after he passed 60 slits, he lost count after that.
The high was simply a delicate heaven. The world completely shut off, his mind was silent for the first time in months. No regrets, no anger, no exhaustion, just silence. He rolled his shoulders as a shiver ran down his spine. All too soon the nagging taste of regret in his stomach slowly began to drift to the surface once more..
It was like the power was slowly coming back on after a blackout, the buzz slowly creeped up his calves through his lungs and settled behind his eye. He slowly opened his eye and glanced down at the carnage, a rookie mistake really, a wave of nausea rose up his throat almost before he could reach the trash can near his desk. Retching his guts up, he could taste the chemical sweetness that was once the star factor of the red bulls he downed hours prior.
Gripping the little pink wastebasket roughly his left hand imposed bloody fingerprints on the handle. Coughing up mucus, his eye began to water a bit in response. He quickly wiped it clear leaving a red streak down his cheek. -
-Knock knock
“Excuse me boss, I have the recent contract reports you requested. The buyers insist on us reducing the rent amount, saying we are being unfair in our terms-”
Nishida began his report moments after bowing towards the desk where he assumed his hot-tempered boss typically perched. He instantly snapped his jaw shut once his mind caught up to the scene before him, his boss doubled over a trash can holding his bleeding stomach was more than he was prepared to handle at the current moment.
His fight or flight immediately kicked in. He jumped into action not a second later scrambling to his side and pulling out a handkerchief from his shirt pocket. He kneeled beside his patriarch as a flash of concern laced his features. Nishidas's mind raced with questions and calculated what to do but before he could voice anything his boss took the little cloth and placed it to his hip bone. Hiding any possible evidence, he stood up quickly and glared at his lieutenant as the smaller man quickly cowered away.
“b-boss if you w-wait here I can grab the first aid kit!” Nishida squeaked out trying to get his footing back.
“I'm takin’ off for the night… if anyone needs me, No they don't. Got it?”
In a desperate last attempt of bravery Nishida insisted,
“W-We really should s-stitch that-!!”
“Say one more word…” Majima interrupted barely above a whisper, his kansai accent gone.
Majimas pupil was blown till it practically looked black. He eyed the shrinking man with the pinpoint stare of a mangled animal. There was no reasoning when he was like this. He was always lethal, but this was beyond talking.
Nishida had worked with him long enough to know he meant it with this final warning-
swallowing dryly he closed his eyes shut and covered his mouth with both trembling hands.
There were only two other times his boss had threatened him and legitimately meant it.
He would never cross that line, or so he hoped. Nishida knew when exactly to pick his battles, that's why he has been by his patriarch's side for this long. While he had nothing but respect for the man, He understood that he held no such restrictions on excessive acts of lethal violence. A side he was both terrified of and enamored by.
Majima, seemingly satisfied with the show of mutual understanding, limply waved his bloodied hand dismissing himself. He slowly walked out of the office in a daze, stuffing the tiny cloth into his wounds and practically collapsed into the elevator. He pressed a series of numbers on the panel and the doors locked. It descended quickly to the basement floor, with a ding he stumbled out of the metal box and into an almost completely empty parking garage. His sleek black company sedan flashes its lights as he unlocked the doors. Clambering in the low seats he jams the key in the ignition and the engine revs up to life as he switches the gears and pulls out of the garage hastily.
He rarely used his car, much preferring to wander the streets by foot. This car was specifically given to him as a gift for finishing Kamurocho Hills. The company who designed it was one of his investors, some Daidoji LLC or something. They assured him it was one of only 20 made in Japan. Majima didn't care much for the glitz and glamor, this car was just easier than walking right now.
However he is still slowly bleeding through the once white handkerchief. While he hates to admit it, he does need to close this somehow, and fast.
Honestly in the quick glance he had earlier it didn't even look that bad! Some blood sure and maybe a little bit of this white spongy stuff was on display. So what? He couldn't even feel it anymore so he had expected it to stop bleeding any minute now.-
The gps in the car beeped as it rerouted, he missed the turn he normally took to get home. He squinted his eye as the buildings became blurry swatches of colors, the street lamps looked like long sparkler trails as he passed. His car beeped again alerting him of another reroute as he was currently barreling down Shichifuku street. A low proximity alarm began to go off repeatedly. He heard the distant sound of metal crunching as the car bit into the railing on the sidewalk, it curled the metal like a wood shavings spiraling up towards the sky. The sedan's screen flashed a message with a large pop up button. It dinged repeatedly as Majima tried his best to focus on the words. They swam around his head like a school of fish. He weakly slapped his bloodied palm on the screen as it blinked green in response.
**Emergency Protocol: HANNYA INITIATED**
The steering wheel became locked as his seat belt tightened across his chest. A low hum could be heard as his seat reclined back into a lying position, the sudden movement made his bones feel like they were floating. The car quickly shifted into a form of autopilot and picked up speed making swift turns and braking in time with the crowds of oblivious civilians.
A loud ding echoed in the car as the glove box shot open, the emergency lights flashed red to drag majimas fading consciousness to the offending light. Inside there was a large syringe pen and a mix of supplies. Weakly he attempted to reach the syringe several times until his fingers finally gripped it, he bit the lid off with a pop. He quickly plunged the needle directly into his thigh with what little strength he had left. The syringe gave a soft hiss as a valve released and the delicious bite of morphine flooded his system. He coughed and inhaled sharply as he shook his systems awake, still dazed he dug his hand into the glove box feeling around the supplies until he pulled out an old hand stapler. Blinking a few times he regained his vision enough to look down and fish the ruined handkerchief out of the deep gash, flinging it into the backseat.
‘This is a terrible Thursday’
His tongue pushed to the roof of his mouth as he bit down on the handle of his tantō. The staple gun hovered above his wound for a brief heartbeat before he plunged it into the exposed tissue. Muffled screams caught in his throat as he repeatedly pulled the trigger back. A staple shot out and knitted a piece of him closed with an agonizing burn. He did about seven more staples before his vision went white with pain. He coughed and steeled his nerves to do five more across the worst of the mess toward his hip bone. He had enough of his faculties to know he needed to aim these last ones good or else he'd hit bone. He forced his hands to stop shaking as he hesitantly fired off.
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
He was already naturally pale but currently he looked like a ghost. Sweat dripped down his temple as he finished the last makeshift stitch. The morphine was quickly getting burned off as Majima felt his body heating up and cooling down all at once.
The car screeched to a halt in front of an old brick building. A sign outfront was illuminated delicately with two yellow lights.
-New Serena-
As the anti theft alarm began to blare outside the vehicle the hazard lights lit up and the cars doors unlocked automatically. The computer system chimed with an alert that a text message had been sent out -
EMERGENCY CONTACT: NOTIFIED!
He could hear the faint sound of an elevator ding and then heavy footsteps rushing his way. The car door swung open so hard the sedan shook, Majima was seconds from losing consciousness when he felt himself being picked up. It felt familiar, it was comforting. There was mumbled speech drifting around him but he could only catch every few words. The deep voice, while panicked, was the most soothing he had ever heard
“N…san!?..wha-!? C-...hear me?!.st..ay..w- me!?...hold o-”
What a warm place to rest, here in your arms.
To be continued-