Love of a Lifetime

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Disclaimer:

Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act
1976, allowance is made for "fair use"
for purposes such as criticism, parody,
comment, news reporting, teaching,
scholarship and research. Fair use is a
use permitted by copyright statute that
might otherwise be infringing. Non-
profit, educational or personal use tips
the balance in favor of fair use.
This collection of fanfiction has been curated and compiled for the
enjoyment of the fans of the Yakuza franchise, © Sega 2005. It is not
associated with the Sega corporation, RGG Studios, or the Yakuza
series. Furthermore, it is not the intention of Love of a Lifetime to
earn a profit for its creator.
This project is purely for fun and for a love of the characters of
Kamurocho.
Please don't sue me.
I'm poor.

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Table of Contents

First Kiss.............................Page 4
Indebted.............................Page 30
Like a Glove........................Page 48
Red Thread.........................Page 70
The Color of Grief................Page 98
The Date................................Page 116
Sunday Morning Eggs............Page 143
For Business or Pleasure?......Page 163

Master, Master
Chapter 1............................Page 180
Chapter 2............................Page 209
Chapter 3............................Page 234
Chapter 4............................Page 248
Chapter 5............................Page 271
Chapter 6............................Page 294
Chapter 7............................Page 317

The Shark and the Dragon
Chapter 1............................Page 352
Chapter 2............................Page 377
Chapter 3............................Page 402

Reprise
Chapter 1............................Page 431
Chapter 2............................Page 454
Chapter 3............................Page 475
Chapter 4............................Page 503
Chapter 5............................Page 523
Chapter 6............................Page 541
Chapter 7............................Page 563
Chapter 8............................Page 583
Chapter 9............................Page 614
Finale.................................Page 647

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1984
First Kiss

It was summer. Summer meant heat, it meant sweat, and it
meant summer house parties. The latter of which didn't mean much
to Kiryu Kazuma. Ever since middle school, he and Nishikiyama Akira
were routinely forgotten about when the invites made their way
around the classroom. Not that it bothered Kiryu much. By now, in
his second year of high school, he was used to being the black sheep
of his grade. His marks were below average, and his effort was non-
existent. Simply put, there were more interesting things than school.
Hence why, that Friday afternoon, Kiryu's head was deep in the
clouds during their history lecture. Something about the rise of the
Edo period and the influx of European influences from the Dutch.
Kiyru only caught every other word or so. He was too busy scratching
his name into the wood grain of his desk.

“Kiryu... Kiryu Kazuma-kun!”
Kiryu lifted his head, his face blank and unchanged. The teacher
was glaring over his book. “I asked you a question,” he pointed out.
Kiryu leaned back in his seat. “You did?”
“Yes. Would you care to answer it? And stand up when I'm talking
to you!” Kiryu did so. Even at sixteen, Kiryu towered over the other
students. It was probably for the best he and Nishiki took up
residence in the back row of desks. No one would be able to see the

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board over Kiryu's giant head. “Now. Can you tell the class the name
of the warrior who ushered in 264 years of peace, leading to the
Meiji Restoration?”

Kiryu blinked. He glanced at Nishiki, who sat leisurely with his
arm over the back of his chair. Nishiki flashed Kiryu a smile, and
beneath his desk, made a rather rude hand gesture. Which in turn,
got Kiryu to snicker. This, of course, sent the teacher on the war path.

“Is there something funny, Nishikiyama-kun?”
Charming as ever, Nishiki flipped his shoulder length hair from his
face. The kind of move that made any girl weak in the knees. “No sir,”
he said, suavely.
“Then perhaps you could tell us the answer?”
“Mmm.” Nishiki propped his chin on his knuckles, smirking from
ear to ear. “Santa Claus?” This sent a ripple of giggles through the
classroom, and the frustrated teacher nearly blew his top.
Unfortunately for him, the final bell rang, dismissing the class for the
day. Kiryu was quick to grab his bag, and he and Nishiki headed to
their lockers. Descending out into the hall, Nishiki and Kiryu shared a
laugh.
“Man,” said Nishiki, “I bet when we come back from summer
break, Iwatabe-sensei is going to be a full fledged alcoholic.”
Kiryu chuckled. “Maybe we are being a little unfair with how
much we goof off. But I can't focus on anything he says. It's so
boring.”

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“Hear that.” They got to their lockers and swapped out their
school shoes for their street shoes. “Not like it'll matter in the long
run anyway. Where we're goin'? We won't need degrees.” Kiryu's
smile grew, and he nodded in agreement. They'd both decided years
ago. Once they got their diplomas to appease Kazama-san, they'd be
on their way to becoming full fledged yakuza.

Nishiki closed his locker and threw his bag over his shoulder. “I
gave more thought to what I want my tattoo to be,” he said.

“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He thumbed over his shoulder, turning slightly. “A big ol'
koi fish. What do you think? Classy, right?”
Kiryu nodded. “Like the legend.” The koi that became a dragon...
Kiryu had no doubt that Nishiki would have his metamorphosis one
day. Kiryu couldn't wait to stand next to him as they rose through the
ranks together. “I still don't know what I want mine to be.”
“Eh, really, bro?” Nishiki and Kiryu started walking towards the
exit. “You seriously gotta give it some thought.”
“I know,” Kiryu admitted. “But maybe... I'll just let the artist
decide.”
“Lame. You got no imagination, I swear.”
“U-um... excuse me. Akira-kun?”
The two boys stopped and turned. A group of girls from their
class stood nervously to Nishiki's left. The speaker was a mousy thing,
with short cropped hair clipped with a sparkly, bunny clip. She inched
forward and held out a piece of paper with two hands. Like she was

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handing out a business card. “I'm um... I'm having a party tomorrow
night. I was wondering...” Her face went peach-pink and she shuffled
her feet. “I was wondering if you'd like to come?”

“A party?” Nishiki held up the paper, and on it was a photo-copy
of a hand written invitation for a local house party. Complete with
cutesy drawings and bubble hearts. Nishiki split into a grin and held
up the paper to Kiryu. “Hey, check it! We got invited to a party!” He
turned to the girl. “We'll be there.”

“Oh...” Despite the invitation, she seemed suddenly put off. She
and her two girlfriends glanced behind Nishiki at Kiryu. Kiryu knew
that look pretty well by now. It was no secret that most of the
student body shied away whenever Kiryu walked down the halls. He
knew what he was. A big, scary, stone faced kid with no friends. Just
because Nishiki was invited didn't mean Kiryu was, too.

But Nishiki, ever with his finger on the pulse of other people,
jumped in on the girl's hesitation. “Something wrong?” he asked,
pointedly. “My bro is invited, right? Because you know that I won't be
coming if Kiryu isn't welcome.”

Kiryu felt a warm bud blossom in his chest. “Nishiki...”
“O-of course he is.” The girl backpedaled quickly. “I just... I didn't
think you liked parties, Kazuma-kun. You're always so quiet.”
Nishiki threw his arm around Kiryu's wide shoulder. “Of course he
does!” Nishiki said. “You haven't lived till you've seen Kiryu at
karaoke, you know!”
“Bro...” Kiryu mumbled.

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One of the other girls perked up. “Oh, we'll have an at-home
machine set up. Sayori-chan's dad bought it for them for Christmas. It
hooks up to the television and everything. It'll be fun!”

“That sounds great! Consider us there.” With that, the girls waved
and headed off, twittering excitedly about Nishiki's acceptance of the
invite. Nishiki held the paper up for a better look. “Man, our first
party. It's exciting!” He folded it up and shoved it into his pocket. The
two headed off the school grounds, and once they were far enough
away, Nishiki pulled out his secret stash of cigarettes. He passed one
to Kiryu and lit them both as they walked. “It's too bad Yumi couldn't
be here for this. I wonder how boarding school is treating her.”

Kiryu nodded, taking a drag of his smoke. “Her next letter should
be coming in soon. I hope she got those cookies okay.”

“Yeah,” said Nishiki. “Cause if I find out that she's got some
asshole roommates that ate them or whatever, we're gonna have to
go kick in some teeth.”

“Nishiki,” said Kiryu, “you know Yumi's school is all girls.”
“Don't care!” Nishiki proclaimed. “If they're pickin' on our Yumi, I
don't care if they're princesses. Do you?”
Kiryu smiled against the filter. “Nah.” They turned the corner, and
stepped away from the clustered, urban streets. Down a dirt road,
past a few rural houses, was Sunflower Orphanage, named for the
fields of endless yellow flowers that surrounded the premises. When
they were little, the stalks seemed to rise forever. They would spend
hours, lost in the forest of flowers. Laughing, singing, running. Their

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private paradise. Before coming too close, he and Nishiki snubbed
out their cigarettes, and took swigs of the pocket mouthwash Nishiki
always had on hand. Once they were free and clear of the smell, they
headed inside.

◈◈◈
By the time Kiryu and Nishiki arrived, the party was already well
underway. The first thing that Kiryu noticed was the music. As they
got closer to the house in question, Kiryu heard what he could only
imagine the size of whatever boom box was playing. The house itself
was packed. Bicycles lined the front lawn, as well as a few sloppily
parked cars. Nishiki, fearless as ever, lead the charge through the
front door, and they took a good look around.
High school and college aged kids flooded the floor, drinking,
chatting, snacking. It reminded Kiryu of an American movie. Girls
danced, boys watched, and from around the corner, Kiryu smelled
what most definitely was not a cigarette being passed from person to
person. Although that outcast feeling remained, Kiryu noticed that
not one eye lingered on them for too long. For once, he felt
anonymous. And he was thankful for it.
“Akira-kun!” The voice of a girl drew their attention, and both
boys looked over. The same student who invited them was now
waving emphatically from a group of girlfriends. They approached,
Nishiki with a casual swagger, and Kiryu, stiff and unapproachable as
ever.
“Hey!” Nishiki greeted. “Great party.”

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“Did you just get here?”
Nishiki nodded. “Where do we get drinks?” The girl reached over
and handed Nishiki a pair of red solo cups. Nishiki grinned in thanks
and gave one to Kiryu. It was pretty cheap beer, but for a couple of
high school kids, it was probably the best they could do. For the next
few hours, Nishiki wandered through the party, enjoying himself and
meeting new people. Kiryu, on the other hand, stuck to Nishiki like a
barnacle. He wasn't exactly chatty even with people he knew, let
alone a room full of drunk strangers. All the while, he kept his eye on
Nishiki. Kiryu often wondered if he should be jealous of his friend.
Nishiki had always been the charming, handsome type. The kind of
guy who was the envy of his peers in almost every department. But
Kiryu never felt that way. Not with Nishiki. If anything, Nishiki's
charms endeared Kiryu. He never wanted to be like Nishiki. He only
ever wanted to be with him.
Somehow, they ended upstairs with a massive group. It was well
into the party, and Kiryu had had his fill of beer. Since he wasn't
exactly doing the talking, he decided to focus on drinking. So when
he ended up in some girl's bedroom surrounded by ten other
teenagers, it was like he blinked, and missed how it happened.
Currently, they were sitting in a circle on the floor. A ten year old
record player was set up in the corner, playing some American pop
star. They were laughing at a joke that flew over Kiryu's head, and he
went to take another drink, only to find that his cup was empty.
Nishiki glanced at Kiryu, and peeked into his cup.

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“Aw, bummer. Here, man.” Nishiki poured some of his untouched
beer into Kiryu's solo, and Kiryu nodded in thanks. “So what's this
game you wanna play, Sayori-chan?”

Sayori—whom Kiryu recognized as the girl who invited them in
the first place—giggled. Her cheeks were red from alcohol, and her
hair was coming undone from her high ponytail. She held up two
items. A bottle and a single die. “We're playing 'Heaven,'” she said.

“'Heaven'?” Kiryu repeated. He turned to Nishiki for confirmation,
but his friend only shrugged.

“Yes!” Sayori put the bottle in the middle of the circle. “First, you
spin the bottle.” She demonstrated. “When it picks you, you pick your
partner. And then, you roll.” She showed off the die. “That's how long
you spend in Heaven.”

“Yeah, but where is—?” Kiryu's question was answered when
Sayori pointed to her open closet. Kiryu's gut twisted. “O-oh.”

Nishiki, on the other hand, grinned in delight. “Yosh!” He clapped
his hands. “Are there any rules about picking the same person
twice?”

“Haw?” One of the guys nudged Nishiki. “You got a hottie in
mind?” he teased.

Nishiki scoffed. “No,” he said, “I just gotta get my jaw ready if I'm
gonna be kissing everybody tonight...” The girls giggled, and the guys
sounded off a round of guffaws. Kiryu, as always, remained silent,
though his lips twisted into the tiniest smile.

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“All right.” A different girl put her hand on the bottle with glee.
“I'll spin it first!” With a twist, the bottle twirled until landing on a
nerdy boy with thick glasses. The teens goaded him into picking a
partner, and he settled on one of the cute, bottled-blondes. Despite
her horror, she rolled the die, which gave them an allotted time of
three minutes. As they awkwardly shuffled to the closet amid the
others' jeering, Nishiki got up off the floor.

“Hey, Kiryu. You want a beer?”
“Oh... yeah. Sure. Thanks.” With a wave, Nishiki vanished down
the stairs to go refill his glass. As he did, Kiryu came to the unsettling
realization that all eyes were now on him. “U-um...”
“So...” Sayori scooted further in, boldly peering at Kiryu with
curious eyes. “How come you're so quiet, Kazuma-kun?”
“A...ah...” Kiryu wasn't sure how to handle such a question, and
instead stare into his beer. “Well I...”
“If you didn't like parties, you shouldn't have come.” Sayori's
words were strangely sharp, and cut Kiryu to the quick. Despite
having nothing to apologize for, Kiryu bowed his head.
“Sorry.”
“Oy oy.” One of the older girls pushed Sayori's shoulder. “No need
to be a bitch.”
“What? It's true.”
“You're bein' mean,” another one said. She turned to Kiryu
confidently. “She's just mad cause she likes Akira-kun and she hasn't
been able to get him alone—”

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“Wh-what!? Idiot, don't tell him that!”
Kiryu was surprised at the admission, even more so at the
confirmation. But rather than laugh or tease Sayori for her tastes,
Kiryu only smiled. “Oh. So that's what this game's about. If you like
Nishiki, you should just ask him out...”
“Eh?!” Sayori's face was red as a ripe tomato. “S-shut up! Like
that's so easy!”
“What's so easy?” Nishiki's voice broke through the conversation,
and Sayori shut her mouth quickly. As Nishiki sat next to Kiryu, he
handed his friend a fresh can of beer.
“Er uh—!” Sayori fumbled, and Kiryu turned to Nishiki calmly.
“Sayori-chan was just telling me that she likes—”
“KARAOKE!”
The whole room went stiff as Sayori shouted at the top of her
lungs. They turned to her as she floundered helplessly. “I l-like...
kara...oke...”
Kiryu blinked, and Nishiki put on a huge smile. “Yeah? We love
karaoke, don't we, Kiryu? You should come with us some time.”
Sayori could say nothing else, and instead stared at her hands,
hugged tightly between her thighs. It was about that time that the
alarm clock rang, and the first couple left the closet, looking even
more awkward than when they entered.
“Right. Who's next?” Nishiki eagerly reached for the bottle, but
one of the bolder girls playfully slapped his hand away. Nishiki looked
up, incensed.

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“It's not your turn,” the girl teased. She pointed to the awkward
boy. “Kyou-kun went last, so he should spin next.”

“Uh...ok...” The nerd—Kyou-kun—took a hold of the bottle and
spun it. All the while, Kiryu watched Sayori's face light up as the neck
slowed closer and closer to Nishiki. The hallow sound of the glass
sang as it made its final decree.

“Ah! Kiryu!” Nishiki cried. “Lucky!” Kiryu blinked. Indeed, the
green neck of the bottle was pointed straight at him. He looked
around and saw a mix of fear and disappointment. The girls were
quick to shy away, trying not to make eye contact. A cold
embarrassment flooded Kiryu's stomach and he looked over at
Nishiki, who was eagerly awaiting Kiryu's decision. “Well bro? Come
on, pick someone!”

“Uh... c-can I pick...?” Awkwardly, he pointed in Nishiki's
direction.

The whole group sat up straight and stared. Nishiki in particular
looked like he'd seen a ghost. “K...Kiryu...?”

“Er, wait, I meant...” Panicking, Kiryu pointed around Nishiki at
the girl who sat beside him. Kiryu's “real” choice seemed to quell the
frantic eyes of his friend, and the new girl picked up the die.

“Right...” She rolled. It landed on five. Five whole minutes.
The teens hooted and hollered as Kiryu forced himself to his feet.
He looked at Nishiki, in some way hoping that he could get out of
this, but Nishiki only gave Kiryu an encouraging smile and a double

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thumbs up. With no other choice, he wandered into the closet,
closing the doors as he heard the teens cheering from outside.

Kiryu and the girl stood in silence for a moment. It was dark, but
light broke through the slats on the closet doors. Kiryu glanced to his
side. She was tiny, though all girls were small compared to him. Kiryu
saw hesitance in her eyes, and realized just how long those five
minutes were going to last if he didn't do something quick.

“So... uh...” Kiryu shifted and sat himself on the carpet. The girl
glanced behind her. “Are you... are you a foreign student?”

The girl took a moment, but nodded, and sat next to him. Though
Kiryu was quick to note she kept her distance. “I'm an exchange
student. From America.”

“America?”
“Yeah.”
“Whoa. Your... your Japanese is good.”
“Thanks.”
More silence filled the void. Kiryu picked at his sock, wondering if
he should say something else. But as he turned to open his mouth,
the girl was already leaning over to him, blushing but bold. Kiryu
flailed back quickly, nearly knocking over the coats that hung above
them.
“S-sorry!” the American girl apologized. “Isn't... this what we're
supposed to do...?”
“Erm... s-sorry...” Kiryu shifted away, folding his arms around his
knees. “I... I've never...”

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The American blinked. “What?” It took her a minute, translating
what Kiryu had said. “You mean you've never kissed anyone... Ever?
Really?” Embarrassed, Kiryu nodded. The girl sat back on the floor, a
curious look on her face. “Huh...”

“I'm sorry,” Kiryu said again. “But... this would be my first kiss.
And if it's my first, I want it to be with someone I really care about...”

Surprisingly, that got the girl to smile. “That's... nice.” It seemed
like she meant it too. “You are... Kazuma-kun? Right?” Kiryu nodded.
“The other girls are scared of you...”

Kiryu leaned back on the wall, relaxing his arms a bit. “Yeah,” he
said plainly. “A lot of my classmates are.”

“Why?”
Kiryu shrugged. “Me and Nishiki don't take shit from people. If
we get pushed around, we push back.” He rubbed his neck.
“Eventually, people stopped pushing.”
“Hm.” The girl swayed in thought. “Did you mean to pick me,
Kazuma-kun?”
“Huh?”
She turned to him. “When you picked your partner. You pointed
at your friend. Akira-kun. Did you want to bring him instead?”
Kiryu's heart practically burst through his chest. He folded his legs
outward, butterfly-style, and gripped his ankles. With nothing else to
look at, Kiryu stared at his fingers. “I... I've been drinking.”
“You don't seem drunk.”

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Kiryu knit his brow and turned away. He felt his ears grow hot.
“Are Americans always this upfront...?”

“Sometimes.” She smiled and looked out through the door slats.
“I think our time is almost up.” Sure enough, the alarm clock rang,
and she and Kiryu stood, ready to leave the closet. Kiryu suddenly felt
a thrill of fear, and took her hand.

“Please,” he began, “don't tell anyone. I don't want anybody
hating Nishiki...”

The girl blinked in surprise, and then melted into an
understanding smile. “I understand.”

“Thanks...” Kiryu smiled awkwardly. The two exited the closet to
rejoin the party. They were met with applause, jeers and jokes. As
Kiryu took his place next to his friend, Nishiki swatted his back in a
proud moment of masculine affection. Kiryu only smiled, and fell
back into his freshly cracked beer.

The party went on. Nishiki, as he predicted, was picked more
often than the rest of the boys in the circle. By the time they finished
with their game, Nishiki was sporting smacks of lipstick with his hair
wild and disheveled. The alcohol was non-stop, and eventually, Kiryu
was starting to feel light on his feet. He floated from conversation to
conversation, never fully invested in any of them. He even recalled
saying a joke or two, though he couldn't remember what he said or if
it was even funny. Nishiki, meanwhile, seemed to be at his best while
sporting a good buzz. He fell into every “it” crowd there with ease.
Kiryu found himself staring more often than not at his friend,

17

sometimes for what felt like hours. Every time he laughed, Kiryu felt
the room light up. Like a solar flair. When the karaoke machine was
pulled out, Nishiki convinced Kiryu to join him for a duet, and they
drunkenly sang so loud, the neighbors probably heard them three
blocks down.

It was about 10pm when the trouble began.
The party had settled into a pleasant thrum, and Kiryu was finally
enjoying himself. However, he must have been enjoying himself far
too much, because he and Nishiki had entered the kitchen, and
before Kiryu knew it, Nishiki was gone from his side. Alone with a
strange juice cocktail (it didn't taste great, but he drank it anyway)
Kiryu whipped around, searching for any sign of where he'd gone.
“Nishiki?” Kiryu wandered away from the kitchen and into the sea
of bobbing heads. The first floor, thus far, struck out. And so, Kiryu
headed upstairs. When he got to the hallway, there were three doors
that faced him. Two that were closed, and one ajar. Kiryu peeked
through the cracked door, which lead to a bedroom. “Nish—?”
His words died in his throat. There was Nishiki all right. He was
down to his pants and propped up on his hands and knees in the
center of the bed. Beneath him, already working on shedding her
dress, was Sayori, lapping up his kisses like a desperate dog. Kiryu's
stomach twisted, and a strange pain hit his heart. He quietly told
himself to step away. That he shouldn't be spying like this. Yet he
couldn't force his feet to move. He watched as Nishikiyama dove in,
kiss after kiss, his hands gripping at her exposed flesh. Those fingers

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tickled and toyed with Sayori's thighs, including the frilly, elastic
waistband of her underwear. Kiryu's throat was so tight, it felt hard to
breathe. He watched those fingers thread through Nishiki's long,
fluffy hair, and as her thigh hoisted up from the top sheet of the bed.

Looked like everyone got what they wanted that night.
Kiryu finally managed to pull himself away, and he was ready to
head downstairs to give Nishiki his privacy, when another noise
caught his attention. The noise of a struggle. And of a voice,
demanding to be let go. Fueled by bottom shelf liquor, Kiryu spun
around and located the voices. They were coming from the
bathroom. Quick as a flash, Kiryu kicked the door open, nearly
knocking it off its hinges. What he saw clouded over his sadness in an
instant.
A girl, not someone from his school, was struggling against the
wall with an older, possibly college aged boy. His hair was dyed bright
and he had a row of earrings on each lobe. His arms had caged the
poor girl in, and one hand held her wrist up as she squirmed. When
Kiryu made himself known, he drunkenly looked up from his victim.
“Eh...? Whossat?”
Kiryu glared, stepping inside. “Let her go.”
“Who're you? Her boyfriend?” Fortunately, it was enough of a
distraction for the girl to slip out of his grasp and escape the
bathroom. The punk snarled. “Fuck! She got away!” He tried going
after her, but Kiryu stood in his path. His body practically took up the

19

whole door frame. “Get the fuck outta my way!” The punk then took
a swing, making contact on Kiryu's jaw.

If he was sober, he might have weathered the hit better. Instead,
the right hook sent Kiryu stumbling backwards, and the punk, crying
out in rage, tackled him out into the hallway and to the stairs. It took
a moment, but once Kiryu got his footing back, he managed to swing
them around just as they reached the top step. With all his might, he
threw the punk over and down to the bottom floor. He banged into
every carpeted step like a rogue bouncy ball. When he settled, he
moaned in agony, but couldn't do much else.

“Joji!” Five other boys, dressed in the same gaudy colors as their
punk friend, gathered around the fallen guy frantically. “What
happened!?” They all looked up and caught Kiryu's eyes. One of
them, a brute who matched Kiryu's size with ease, grit his teeth.

“Get the fuck down here!” he demanded. “We're takin' your ass
outside!”

“Fine.” Kiryu had taken only a step when the door behind him
swung open. Nishiki, clutching his open pants, hurried from the
bedroom.

“What—?!” He spotted Kiryu and peered down the steps at the
angry mob of punks awaiting them. “The hell happened, bro?”

Kiryu nodded at the fallen man. “He doesn't listen when a girl
says 'no.'”

“That right?” Nishiki zipped up hits pants and swept back his hair,
grinning. “Then I guess we got our work cut out for us.”

20

“Hey!” the big punk shouted. “You fuckin' done with your
girlfriend up there, asshole? Come outside before we drag you out!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Nishiki waved the punks off. “Take your asses
outside, fuckers! We'll be right along.” Grumbling, the guys headed
out to the front grass, while a couple party-goers carried Kiryu's first
victim to a couch to sleep it off. Nishiki puled out a pair of cigarettes
and handed one to Kiryu, who was already removing his shirt. “You
ready for fun, bro?”

Kiryu lit his cigarette, and then Nishiki's own. With a smile, he
blew out a steady stream of smoke. “Yeah,” he said. “Always.”

Coming out to the front lawn, the five punks were lined up, now
wielding anything they could get their hands on. The cool, summer
air instantly settled on their hot skin. Kiryu rolled his neck, hearing a
satisfying “pop” from his bones. He and Nishikiyama stood side by
side, finishing their cigarettes. The big punk, whom Kiryu had
nicknamed in his mind as “Pinky,” stepped forward, a rusty old pipe
in hand. “Well!? Let's go!” He turned to his group. “Don't let these
assholes get out alive!” With that, the five of them sprang into
action. By sheer numbers alone, the punks had probably calculated
that this would be an easy fight.

They had calculated incorrectly.
The minute any one of them stepped into proximity of Kiryu or
Nishiki, they ended up with a face full of knuckles for their troubles.
Dropping their cigarettes, Kiryu and Nishiki were like parts in a well
oiled machine. Scrappy, yes, undisciplined, certainly, but fierce.

21

Passionate. Their actions mirrored each other in perfect
synchronicity. Every weapon that came their way was deflected,
every kick or punch returned tenfold.

At one point, three of them had decided to gang up on Kiryu, who
was landing most if not all of the heavy hits. With one punk on either
shoulder, and another on his back, they meant to weigh Kiryu down
to his knees. Any normal sixteen year old would have gone down
easily. But this wasn't a normal sixteen year old. This was Kiryu
Kazuma. With a mighty yell, he spun, knocking off two of the three
assailants. With one last one clinging to his left shoulder, Kiryu picked
him up by the waist, one-handed, and barreled straight into the side
of Sayori's house. As he collapsed, Kiryu returned to the fight, having
barely broken a sweat by now.

Pretty soon, it was just Kiryu, Nishiki, and Pinky. The burly punk
was definitely worse for wear, as his sheer size was probably what
kept him standing. The two approached Pinky, who tried desperately
to bolster himself, but between a cracked tooth, broken nose, and
bleeding lip, he didn't exactly look intimidating. When Nishiki got
within punching range, Pinky threw out a jab. Nishiki avoided it,
smooth as butter. He turned to Kiryu with a smug grin. “You wanna
finish him?”

Kiryu nodded. Pinky floundered, and tried swinging wildly, but it
took only one step before Kiryu was out of his line of fire. Rearing
back, he landed his knuckles dead-on into Pinky's face, laying him out
flat. He collapsed in a heap, and Kiryu and Nishiki turned to each

22

other, all smiles. Kiryu rounded to readdress the party, but when he
did so, he saw, not gratitude or delight, but horror.

Everyone at the party stared at the two, their eyes wide. Kiryu
recognized their fear. It was the same fear that followed him down
the hallways at school. The same fear held by girls his age when they
noticed him walking along the sidewalk behind them. Not even
Nishiki's charm smoothed out their anxiety. Finally, someone was
brave enough (or drunk enough) to speak out.

“S-see!?” the voice called. “I told you they were yakuza!”
Frantic whispers fell over the party. Dread grew with every
second that passed. It wasn't until Sayori managed to edge her way
forward, their shirts in hand, that the chatter ebbed. Where earlier,
she had only desire when she looked upon Nishikiyama, now, she
only had fear. Not wanting to get too close, Sayori threw their clothes
into the grass by their feet.
“Please... please leave,” she squeaked. Kiryu hesitated. As he
leaned down to grab his shirt, he saw the party pull back, as if
preparing for Kiryu to attack them next. Kiryu quickly pulled his shirt
over his shoulders, turning away from the crowd. Though as fast as
he moved, there was no hiding those pinprick tears from
Nishikiyama.
Nishiki whipped around to the party, seething. “Yeah? So what?”
he challenged. No one rose to his defiance. Nishiki jerked forward,
making them cower further. “So what if we are yakuza!? You fuckers
don't know shit about us, you understand!? If you assholes think you

23

deserve Kiryu or me protecting your sorry asses from fuckers like
them—!” Nishiki kicked one of the fallen punks, who moaned out in
pain. “Then you got another thing coming!” Angrily, Nishiki threw his
shirt on and spun away. “Let's go, Kiryu.” No arguments there. Side
by side, the two headed quietly into the night.

They walked for hours. Kiryu was thankful for the silence. Nishiki
would often rant and rave about something when he was angry, so
the fact that he was keeping to himself meant he was trying to be
considerate for Kiryu's sake. Kiryu, for his part, did his best not to let
those tears show themselves. It was stupid to admit it, but seeing the
fear in his classmates, from people he was protecting... It stung. It
had always stung, and it always would.

Finally, as they took the corner, Kiryu caught sight of the
sunflowers, now glowing amber under the buzzing streetlamps.
Stepping onto their dirt road, Nishiki paused. Kiryu stopped walking
himself, and turned. Nishiki was staring into the flowers, hands in his
pockets.

“I feel like smokin',” he said. Kiryu nodded in agreement, and the
two of them walked into the field. They easily found their spot. A
patch of ground, stomped down for when they needed their alone
time. After tonight, neither of them felt like turning in early. Nishiki
pulled out his pack to reveal he only had one smoke left.

“Ugh. Split it?”
“Yeah.”

24

Nishiki lit it, took a drag, then handed it to Kiryu. As Kiryu had his
turn, Nishiki glared up at the dark sky. There was no moon tonight,
leaving only a smattering of faint stars above them. “Fuckin
ungrateful bitches...” Nishiki muttered.

“It's fine.” Kiryu handed off the smoke, and Nishiki took it with a
vigor. “We should be used to it.”

Nishiki snorted. “That don't make it right. And to think I was
gonna...” He sneered against the filter and blew out a steady stream
of smoke, handing it back over to Kiryu. “Fuck 'em. They don't
deserve us...” He turned to Kiryu with a bitter smile. “At least you got
lucky.”

“O-oh.” Kiryu stared at the cigarette between his knuckles.
“Yeah...”

Nishiki turned to Kiryu, fully. “Kiryu... are you tellin' me...?”
Kiryu's silence spoke volumes. Nishiki groaned and ran his hands
through his hair. “I swear to God, man! You finally had an opportunity
to get some and you blew it! Dude, you are so hopeless!”

“It was fine.” Kiryu handed the smoke back to Nishiki. As he did,
their fingers touched, and Kiryu felt electricity zip up his arm. He
quickly took his hand away, staring at the flowers. “I'd rather not...
y'know... with someone I just met anyway.”

“Right...” Nishiki looked contemplative over the cherry. “I mean,
you didn't have to bang her but like... you got a kiss at least? Yeah?”
Kiryu stared at his feet. Nishikiyama sighed deeply. “Dude...”

25

“Sorry,” Kiryu apologized. “I just... I haven't had my first kiss yet. I
want it to be with someone who means something to me.”

Nishiki took a swift puff of his smoke, dropped it, and snubbed it
with the toe of his sneaker. “Fine. Close your eyes.”

“What?” Kiryu lifted his head up.
“Close 'em, Kiryu. I can't do this otherwise.”
Kiryu balked, his heart pounding. Putting blind trust in his friend,
he closed his eyes, as instructed. After a moment, he felt the heat of
Nishiki's lips. Before he knew it, they were kissing. Kiryu's eyes
popped open, but he didn't pull away. His body was stiff as a board,
and his hands shook on either side of his waist. Kiryu wondered if he
should do something. Push forward? Pull back? Lean into it? There
wasn't exactly lessons about this kind of thing. And then, before Kiryu
could really wrap his head around it, Nishiki pulled away.
“There.” Nishiki wiped his lips. “Now you got no excuse.” Kiryu
stood, stunned, for a long moment. Rooted into the ground like so
many of the sunflowers around them, Kiryu didn't know what, if
anything, he should do. Say thanks? Laugh? Kiryu's heart was beating
so fast it was practically one single roll. His mind was empty. Only
instinct remained.
Which was why, without a second delay, Kiryu reached out, held
Nishiki into his arms, and kissed him, fiercely.
At first, Nishiki let out a surprised grunt, his hands grasping at
Kiryu's shoulders. But the longer the kiss went on, the less Nishiki
wriggled. They kissed deeper, Kiryu occasionally coming up for air.

26

Somehow, Nishikiyama's tongue ended up between his lips in a
sensation that was wholly alien to Kiryu. Strange, unexpected, but
exciting. Kiryu clutched Nishiki's waist with desperate fingers, their
kiss wild and untamed. But finally, Nishiki managed to yank away,
gasping for breath.

“K-Kiryu!” Kiryu pushed in again, capturing Nishiki's lips. His kiss
was desperate. As if pleading Nishiki to keep indulging him for as long
as he was able. Their feet wobbled, and they fell to the ground with a
heavy “thump.” Kiryu broke off from Nishiki's lips, and heated
beyond reason, dove instead for his neck. Kiryu kissed and licked and
bit at Nishiki's tan skin. Faded scars and winking freckles. Little hairs
and bumps and moles. Kiryu wanted it all. He drank in Nishiki's smell,
feeling more intoxicated now than he was at the party. Beneath his
belt, he felt his body wake up, thumping against his cotton briefs.

“H-hey...” Nishiki's voice was breathy, and excited Kiryu further.
“Kiryu come on... hey...” Kiryu pulled at Nishiki's shirt and dove his
teeth into his chest. Nishiki moaned, his head tilting back. “Wh-what
are you...?” Kiryu pushed upwards and kissed Nishiki again, even
more fearlessly than before. His fingers gripped the roots of Nishiki's
hair, his free hand sliding up the bottom of Nishiki's shirt.

“Nishiki...” Kiryu breathed. He went in for another kiss, but a
hand met him instead. Nishiki had quickly covered Kiryu's mouth,
stopping them cold. Kiryu blinked, and reality settled in. All those
warm feelings, those fuzzy butterflies... They vanished in an instant.
Slowly, Nishiki sat up, forcing Kiryu to his knees. Nishki didn't dare

27

look Kiryu in the eye. And Kiryu, after a moment, made sure to do
the same. “I'm... I'm sorry—”

“No. It's my fault.”
Kiryu felt tears climb up his throat, and he pushed them down. “I
went overboard.”
“It's fine.”
“I didn't mean to get so crazy.”
“Kiryu.”
“I'm sorry, Nishiki. I don't know what I was thinking. I'll never—”
“Kiryu.”
Kiryu lifted his head. Nishiki's face was pale, his eyes only barely
turned Kiryu's direction. “Let's... let's just...” Nishiki swallowed and
stood, fixing his shirt. “Let's just go home.”
“Nishiki...” Kiryu hoisted himself to his feet. He reached out for
Nishiki's shoulder.
Nishiki swat his hand away. He might as well have burned him.
Kiryu retracted his hand and held it to his heart, which felt like it was
shattering into a million pieces. His whole body shook, and he stared
at his knuckles. Nishiki kept himself turned away.
“This didn't happen...” Nishiki said quietly. “Ok? None of this...
happened.”
Kiryu felt like he was drinking poison. Still, he forced out: “None
of this happened.” Nishikiyama nodded. Without another word, he
walked through the sunflowers and towards the orphanage, leaving
Kiryu behind. Once he was totally alone, Kiryu's weight brought him

28

down to his knees. He swayed, empty and breathless, until finally
letting the dams break.

Alone in the field of flowers, Kiryu allowed himself to cry quietly.
Soft and vulnerable beneath the stars.

29

1987
Indebted

“...Four eighty seven... Four ninety... Five hundred...” The
accountant put the stack of bills in the counter, letting the machine
double check his work. Vrrrrr. Once it finished, the printer coughed
up a slip with the printed amount. The accountant ripped it from the
slot and looked it over. “Yup. Five hundred thousand. All here and
accounted for, Majima-san.” He handed the slip to his boss, who took
it dutifully. Despite the high count, Majima did not look pleased.

“Five hundred grand in a week...” Majima crumpled the receipt
and tossed it away, much to the confusion of his mousy accountant.
“Fuck.” He took out his pack of cigarettes and popped one into his
mouth.

The accountant, a scrawny pencil pusher barely in his twenties,
straightened his coke bottom glasses and spoke. “Respectfully, sir...
You don't seem happy. Six figures in a week is a very good take.”

“For other clubs,” said Majima. “Not for The Grand.”
“Sir?”
Majima lit his smoke and waved the accountant off, vaguely.
“Thanks.” Taking that as his cue, the accountant bowed his head and
left Majima alone in his office. His heart was low, and his mind was
abuzz. He caught sight of himself in the reflection of his dark window.
He hadn't slept well for the past couple of days, and this was exactly

30

the reason. His suit, of course, was always well pressed and
presentable for work. But his eye betrayed how sloppy and frantic he
felt. Five hundred thousand was a good take at first glance, but only
before you added in the costs of running a cabaret. First the girls got
paid, then the staff. Then the rent, the lights, the water, the food
costs, and then the entertainment and the cleaning crew. Add it all
up, Majima was barely left a hundred thousand for his troubles.
Majima took a deep drag, his brows perpetually creased. “Fucking
shit...”

“Catch you at a bad time, Majima-chan?” Majima's skin crawled.
He turned to see Sagawa letting himself into Majima's private office,
casually as you please. Sagawa was the kind of yakuza who looked
like a respectable salaryman from afar. The type who enjoyed taking
their granddaughter to the park on Sundays and played mahjong.
After knowing him for only three months, Majima was confident that
he was nothing of the sort.

Majima leaned against the window sill, watching Sagawa help
himself to some of Majima's liquor. “What do you want?” Majima
asked.

Sagawa smiled to himself. “Just checking in on my favorite pet,”
he said casually, prepping his drink. The cubes of ice clinked against
his glass as he filled it about half way. He held the drink to his nose
and sniffed. “Mm... You sure do get the good stuff, don't you,
Majima-chan?” Sagawa undid a button on his coat and relaxed on the
couch. “So. How're your books looking?”

31

A thrill of anger shot through Majima's heart, but he kept his face
passive. “I'm assuming you already know.” There wasn't much to
assume. Sagawa made no pretenses in how closely Majima was
watched while he ran The Grand. “It's turning a profit.”

“Ha.” Sagawa scoffed as he sipped Majima's whiskey. “A measly
one.” He cocked an eyebrow, smirking over his glass. “At this rate, it'll
take years before you've paid off your debt. You realize this, don't
you?” Majima didn't answer. Sagawa took another drink and set the
glass on the table. Beside an unused coaster, Majima noticed. The
fucking petty dick. “Shimano keeps theorizing how badly you're going
to fuck this up. Do I need to confirm his suspicions, Majima-chan?”

Majima ground his jaw. “No,” he said. “Spring is bad for tourists in
Osaka. Summer and winter will turn out more money. He just needs
to be patient.”

Sagawa actually laughed. “Patient? Shimano-san? Have you met
the man?” Majima's hand tightened into a fist. Sagawa finished his
drink and put the empty glass aside (again next to the open coaster,
the dickbag). “You have quotas to meet, you know. And if I report
back that you haven't been meeting them.” He shook his head. “Well,
we both know where you'll end up again, don't we?” Sagawa didn't
need to elaborate. Majima could still smell the grime of the hole. The
copper taste of days old blood still in his mouth. The never ending
hunger in his belly, or the strain on his wrists. “I have to turn in your
first report in a couple of days. So far, it isn't looking good.”

32

Majima flared. “I can't force perverts to give me their money,” he
snapped. “Not as a civilian, anyway. Shimano just needs to have
some fucking faith. Come summer time, I promise you this place will
churn out millions by the day.”

“Is that so?” Sagawa leaned back on the couch and pulled out a
cigarette. He didn't, however, reach for his lighter, and instead stared
at Majima. Waiting. Majima took a breath and approached. He
removed his own lighter and held it up to Sagawa's cigarette. Once it
was lit, Sagawa took a deep puff and sighed out the smoke. “You put
me in one hell of a situation, Majima-chan.” His sly eyes flicked up to
Majima's own. “If you were a woman, maybe you could use your
charms to sway my report. But, that's neither here nor there.”

Majima's heart palpitated. “My charms...?” Why even bring up
something so weird?

Sagawa tilted his head to the back of the couch, still staring up at
Majima. There was a kind of hunger there that Majima was starting
to recognize. “You know what the first thing was that I heard about
you?” he said. “Majima Goro. A scrappy kid pulled from the streets
into a life of crime by the grace of the family. Obedient but...
strange.” Sagawa ran his thumb along the filter of his cigarette.
“There was a rumor that Saejima-kun was more than a friend to you.
One sided or not, the rumors of your tastes got around.” Majima felt
his chest tighten. “Relax. You've fucked enough women not to make
anyone care. Balances out the unnatural love for your sworn brother,
doesn't it?”

33

“What are you getting at, Sagawa-san?” Majima's voice was testy.
“So sharp,” Sagawa taunted. He tapped his ashes into the tray on
the table. “Yakuza life is to trade services for funds, isn't it? Services
of protection, of persuasion. That's all flesh really is. Just a monetary
value, taken form. Wouldn't you agree?” Sagawa gestured to the
door. “Hell, you're in a cabaret. Every girl under you trades her time
for money. People are just product. You don't even need to be yakuza
to understand that.”
And there was the question. Not asked outwardly. No, no, Sagawa
wasn't so abrupt. Majima lingered. Anyone else might have
threatened to kill Sagawa after such an implication. But Majima
wasn't anyone else. Truthfully, he didn't have the luxury. Majima took
the glass from the table and walked it over to the decanter of liquor.
He made his way to the door. But rather than excusing himself, he
clicked the lock on the door knob. He'd rather not be disturbed
during this. He could already feel Sagawa's grin behind him.
“You're a smart boy,” Sagawa purred. His legs spread, and he
gestured in between them. “Why don't you get started, Majima-
chan?” Majima walked slowly, until he was finally standing between
Sagawa's legs. Sagawa hadn't let his eyes leave Majima's expression.
He was smiling the entire way. Majima knelt down, forcing his face to
remain passive. The last thing he needed was more leverage for
Sagawa to twist the knife. He undid Sagawa's belt and trousers, and
pulled. Sagawa was modestly built, with salt and pepper hair to
match his head. Currently, he was flaccid. Looked like Majima had a

34

lot of work to do. Without fear or hesitation, Majima began to stroke
Sagawa's dick, urging it to life.

Sagawa laughed under his breath, still enjoying his cigarette.
Majima could feel Sagawa's eyes on him the whole time. He was able
to get away with just stroking it for a while, until Sagawa's fingers
gripped his hair. “Come on. Put more effort into it.” Right. Couldn't
get away with just a hand-job, could he? Wetting his lips, Majima
bent down and took Sagawa into his mouth. He bobbed his head,
beginning to slowly suck Sagawa's semi-erect penis. Again, Sagawa's
hand came down to Majima's head. “Slow, Majima-chan. Nice and
slow.” His fingers tightened on Majima's hair. “And no biting.”

Majima slowed down the pace. His eye closed. Sucking dick was
never that bad. And so far, Sagawa didn't seem to have any violent
tendencies towards Majima. No degradation, no slapping, no tugging
on his hair. Sagawa just sat back and let Majima do his thing. Fuck, if
this was all it took to ease up on Majima's debt, he'd suck Sagawa off
whenever he came by. But of course, that wasn't all there was to it.
Sagawa was just starting to reach peek erection when he suddenly
pulled Majima off of him by his pony tail. He blew smoke into
Majima's face, smiling.

“Are you hard, Majima-chan?” It was asked so casually, but with
such a biting vigor behind it. No doubt Sagawa was trying to get
under Majima's skin. But Majima stayed cool. Countless days in the
hole taught him patience, if nothing else. “Drop your pants.” Majima
did so, and Sagawa stared, toying with his cigarette. He grunted,

35

nodding between Majima's legs. “Not even a tent? You wound me,
Majima-chan.”

“I'm sorry,” Majima said, toneless. “Do you want me to get hard
for you?”

Sagawa's grin curled wider. “And what? Watch you touch
yourself? Nah. I want that honor, I think.” Suddenly, Sagawa yanked
on Majima's hair, twisting him until he was faced down into one of
the couch cushions. Majima held his breath to keep from making
noise. On the one hand, he felt a sharp urge to scratch Sagawa's
stupid eyes out for treating him like this. On the other... Fuck it, it was
easy to admit he liked getting his hair tugged. Sagawa pressed
Majima's face to the cushion and snubbed out his cigarette in the ash
tray.

“Stay there,” he ordered. Majima remained still. Pulling himself
up, Sagawa walked back over to the liquor. But he didn't get another
drink. Instead, he took the empty glass with the ice cubes and walked
back to where Majima lay in wait. Getting on his knees behind
Majima, Sagawa tilted the glass over his ass cheeks. A shiver shot up
Majima's spine as that cold, melted liquid slithered down his asshole.
When there was nothing left to pour, Sagawa took an ice cube from
the glass and started rolling it between his cheeks, making the whole
thing a sinful slip-n-slide. Majima gripped his knees tightly. It was a
weird sensation, yet it sent throngs of pleasure to Majima's
manhood.

36

Suddenly, he felt one of the ice cubes inserted into his ass.
Majima gasped loudly, his head snapping up. Sagawa's finger
accompanied it, and Sagawa began rolling his index around Majima's
walls. Majima couldn't help it. Head tilted back, he moaned outright.
There was no way in Hell this was Sagawa's first time fingering a man.
Dirty bastard must have had plenty of secrets of his own. Another ice
cube followed, and Majima's entire body shivered.

“Fuck...” he breathed. He felt the soft pad of Sagawa's finger
locate and rub the little hidden center inside Majima's body. His
hands tightened their grip to the point that his fingernails threatened
to shred his pants.

“There we go,” Sagawa hummed. “I knew Majima-chan had an on
switch somewhere.” He pressed further in, and Majima choked on his
own pleasure. A second finger soon accompanied it, and Majima's
entire body trembled. The filthy old man. Not that he was successful
in hiding it, but he knew that if he admitted to liking this, Sagawa
would never let him live it down. “Are you ready to work off some of
that debt, puppy? Hm?”

Majima bit his lip. Sagawa wrapped Majima's hair around his
knuckles and yanked. Again, Majima couldn't help himself. He
whimpered, his heart pounding in his chest. “Sit on the couch,” he
commanded. Majima panted, open mouthed and trembling. When
Sagawa removed his fingers, he felt the water from the melted ice
cubes dribble to the floor. Majima regained his barrings and hoisted
himself onto the couch. He turned, facing Sagawa. Sagawa was rock

37

hard now, his smile twisted and delighted. “Present yourself to me,
Majima-chan. Show me just how much you want this debt to go
away.”

Majima's chest shuttered. Somewhere along the way, some of his
shirt buttons had come loose, and his tattoos were starting to peek
out from beneath it. With trembling hands, he pushed his pants
down and kicked one leg free, slipping off his shoes in the process.
He spread his legs wide, and with his eye averted, held open his hole
with one hand. Sagawa ran his finger delicately up and down
Majima's thigh, making his muscles spasm. “Such an obedient puppy
dog,” Sagawa hissed. Taking his wet finger, he played with Majima's
ass, delighting in Majima's newfound erection. “Do you want to
touch yourself? You can say yes or no. But answer honestly.” He
pushed his finger all the way to the knuckle, making Majima cry out.
“You're twitching, Majima-chan. Do you want to make yourself
cum?”

No use in being coy. Majima nodded. “Yes,” he breathed. It was
the truth. Sagawa had managed to flip those switches, and now, all
Majima wanted to do was reach his climax.

“But you haven't yet,” Sagawa pointed out.
“No,” said Majima.
“Waiting for permission?” Sagawa flashed a toothy grin. “What a
good boy you are, Majima-chan.” He carefully pushed his thumb nail
into the vein of Majima's penis. The sharpness was enough to make
Majima go rigid. He blindly grasped at the cushion beneath him, his

38

eye shut tightly. “Well my answer is no. I don't want you touching
yourself, Majima-chan.” Sagawa pushed forward, now towering over
Majima's trembling body. “No matter how badly you want to cum, I
don't want your hands even going near yourself. Yes?” Majima's
throat was dry, and his eye was foggy.

And then, Sagawa got up on his knees, letting his pants drop to
the floor. Removing his right hand, he attached it just underneath
Majima's chin. Majima felt pressure from his forefinger and thumb,
and Majima's eye bulged. It was like being choked, but Majima could
still breathe fine. What was he doing?

“I think you're ready enough.” Sagawa came closer. His penis
rested against Majima's hole. As he pressed inward, Majima let out a
shuttered, helpless cry. Sagawa began to sway. With every thrust, he
pushed himself in little by little. Majima's legs shook limply, and his
breath staggered. Finally, he was all the way in. Majima could feel
those short and curlies tickle his undercarriage.

And then, Sagawa was not so kind. He began to thrust at a quick,
even pace. Majima cried out, unable to control it. Though he couldn't
touch himself, he instead grappled onto Sagawa's body. Sagawa's
humping shook the couch, which banged rhythmically against the
wall behind it. All the while, Sagawa's hand still grabbed Majima's
neck. There was probably one hell of a red mark on there now for
how tightly he was pinching those veins. And yet, Majima got the
feeling that his grip was totally controlled.

39

Majima's head was dizzy. The lightheaded feeling only added to
his pleasure. He could focus on nothing else. Not his pride, or his
shame. His whole body was burning with the sinful delight of his
flesh. He couldn't even manage speaking. That climax grew ever
closer, and Majima threatened to bowl over at any second. But
before he could, Sagawa's hand left Majima's neck, and instead
pinched the base of his dick.

Majima whimpered sharply, and opened his eye. Sagawa, cheeks
flushed and panting, shook his head. “No no,” he said. “No cumming
until I cum first.” He tightened those fingers on his penis and started
thrusting faster. Majima cried out, the weight of his body veering to
one side.

40

The suction of Sagawa's dick made lewd, sucking sounds, and
Majima could feel a river of sweat now pouring down his spine. His
hair was starting to come undone, and his stomach burned for
release.

“S...Sagawa...san...” Majima managed to cough out. “P...please...
Please...”

“Begging...” Sagawa hushed. “Good, good. I like it when you beg,
Majima-chan.” Sagawa pushed with his feet, and with a sudden
switch, Majima was laying sideways on the couch, with one leg high
over Sagawa's shoulder. Now with a better angle, Sagawa hoisted up
Majima's hips and continued to thrust. Quicker and easier this time.
All the while, that hand would not relent on Majima's penis.

“Ah–!” Majima clawed at the couch, now twitching in a puddle of
his own sweat and drool. His penis thumped, desperate to release.
Sagawa let only the tiniest drizzle leak onto the cushion.

“If I let you cum,” Sagawa panted, “you'll ruin the couch...” His
thrusts slowed in pace, but with every propulsion forward, Sagawa
slammed his hips into Majima's body, rocking him in untamed bursts.
“Maybe I'll have you... lick it up...”

“Sa...Saga...wa...san...” Majima couldn't help himself. He reached
down out of desperation and tugged at Sagawa's hand. It didn't
budge. “P-please... Oh God...” Sagawa slammed hard into Majima's
body and he shouted, nearly on the brink of tears now. Any more of
this and he'd go insane.

41

“How much,” Sagawa growled. “How much do you want to cum,
Majima-chan?”

“Please!” Majima begged. “I need–I need to–!”
“You need it?”
“Yes!”
“You want it?”
“Yes!”
With one last push, Sagawa finally let go. Majima screamed as his
body shot a steady stream of white onto the couch cushions. As his
muscles tightened, he felt Sagawa cum inside of him. It was hot, and
forceful, and only added to the thrumming of his own pleasure. It felt
like it came forever, splashing into a puddle of his own muck
endlessly.
Sagawa slipped out of Majima's body, letting him collapse into his
own mess. There was a long pause between them. Both men were
steadily catching their breath. Finally, Sagawa stood upright, shaking
his limp dick dry. It splashed onto Majima's leg without remorse.
Once he was satisfied, Sagawa tucked it into his pants and zipped up.
Majima still couldn't quite move, and instead watched from where he
lay on the couch.
“Good. Good boy, Majima-chan.” Sagawa pushed back his hair
and straightened his tie. “I'll be sure to give your cause a little
funding. Just so Shimano-san doesn't get on your case too hard.” He
smirked at Majima. “Aren't I generous, Majima-chan?” Majima said

42

nothing. Sagawa knelt in front of him, tilting his chin up a little. “I
said... aren't I generous, Majima-chan?”

Majima blinked slowly. His voice cracked, and his mouth was dry
as cotton. “Yes...” he finally croaked. “Very... very generous. Thank
you...”

Sagawa's smirk got bigger. He let Majima's head go, and stood up
straight. “You should finish your coffee break and head back to the
floor soon,” he said. “It's not good etiquette for a manager to hide up
in his office all day.” Once he was dressed properly and ready to go.
Sagawa left the room.

Finally, Majima was alone.
It took a while, but Majima forced himself to move. First, he
cleaned himself up. His legs felt like jelly, and he definitely needed a
drink. It was arduous and slow, and his lower back ached. But
eventually, he managed to look presentable enough. As he wiped up
the mess, he didn't bother crying. There wasn't any need. Like
Sagawa said. People were product. And if it got him back into the
Tojo Clan, Majima would do whatever he needed to stay afloat.
He was just leaving his office when an employee came to his
door. “Excuse me, sir,” he said, bowing. “A guest has asked to see
you.”
Majima tilted his head. “A guest?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do I know them?”
“I don't know. He seemed to know you though, sir.”

43

Majima fixed up his suit jacket and then nodded. His staffer lead
him down the steps and onto the floor. Despite it being a Saturday
night, what Majima said was true. Spring wasn't exactly a hot season
for tourists. Only about half of The Grand's seats were full. Which
meant it was easier to spot the customer in question. He was an
older man, with slicked back hair and fashionable sunglasses. He sat
with three hostesses, and a bottle of champagne between them.
When Majima turned the corner to address him properly, he
recognized the man's face. A Dojima family lieutenant. Kuze, if
Majima remembered correctly.

“Excuse me, sir,” said the employee. Kuze looked up. “I've brought
the manager.”

“Ah.” He eyed Majima up and down. “So this is where Shimano-
san stuck you, Majima Goro.”

Majima bowed his head, and the employee excused himself.
“Kuze-san, am I correct? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Kuze laughed deeply. “Just in the neighborhood. I heard rumors
about one of Shimano-san's excommunicado's being stuck into a cash
cow to try and earn back his keep. I thought it was just a rumor. The
Shimano-san I know was never so merciful.”

Majima kept his composure, hands behind his back. “It's true.
Shimano-san has given me an opportunity to regain my position in
the family.”

Kuze sneered. “Well, you're earning money for the Tojo Clan. So I
guess I can't complain.” He rolled his shoulders back, arms cupping

44

the hostesses closer to him. “I'm assuming that I get that good old
family discount, eh, Majima-san?”

Majima didn't flinch. “Of course, Kuze-san. Your entertainment
tonight is on the house. So long as you tip your ladies for the
evening.”

“Sure.” Looked like that was all Kuze needed to hear, and he
waved Majima off. Majima bowed out, ready to check on a few other
guests, when Kuze spoke again. “Ah, Kiryu! Back already?” Majima
paused and looked up.

A man his age (perhaps a bit younger), firm faced and broad
shouldered, walked down the aisle to where Kuze waited for him. He
bowed stiffly and handed Kuze an envelope. Kuze opened it and
glanced at its contents. “I'm assuming it went over smoothly?”

“Yes, Aniki.” This Kiryu's voice was deep and stunning. Majima
couldn't help but admire it. Most yakuza made an extra effort to put
that growl behind their words, or let the smoker's voice do it for
them. Kiryu's voice seemed naturally deep. The kind of voice you
could listen to for hours just reading the phone book.

Kuze noticed Majima staring and directed his hand to their host.
“Kiryu. Show some respect to the manager. This is Majima Goro.
Shimano's old dog.”

Kiryu turned to Majima. When their eyes met, Majima felt a thrill
hit him in a way he hadn't in quite a while. Firm and proper, Kiryu
bowed stiffly. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance. I am Kiryu
Kazuma.”

45

Majima hesitated. Overly polite, formal. Young. Inexperienced.
Raw. Finally, Majima tilted his head forward in greeting. “Nice to
meet you, Kiryu-san. Will you be enjoying The Grand along with Kuze-
san?” Majima gestured to some of the girls on standby near the bar.

Kiryu glanced over towards them. “No,” he said. “Thank you.”
Odd. “Are you sure?” said Majima. “We have a hostess for every
taste.”
But Kiryu merely bowed again. “I appreciate the generous offer,”
he said, “but I must refuse. Thank you for your consideration.”
Kuze laughed, bringing out a fresh cigar. “You'll have to excuse the
boy,” he said. “Kiryu doesn't know how to have fun yet.” Snipping the
end, Kuze lit up and relaxed against his seat. “I think the table needs
a refill on our champagne. And maybe some food for the girls.” The
hostesses giggled in agreement. Majima nodded.
“Right away, sir.” He motioned a server to come and take their
order. “If there is anything else, please don't hesitate to let me know,
Kuze-san.” Kuze dismissed Majima without another word, and
Majima headed to the back of the club. Throughout the night, his
eyes lingered on the yakuza near the front. While Kuze enjoyed his
free evening, Kiryu didn't move from his spot, standing next to the
table like a statue. He stood without complaint until the closing hour,
around two in the morning. Majima had gone up to his office to do
the final tally, when he overheard his staffers bidding the final guests
their farewell. Curiously, he looked out the window.

46

There was Kuze, rambling about some business or another. Tailing
him faithfully was Kiryu. They stopped at the crossroads, and Kuze
checked his watch. As they lingered, Kiryu's head tilted up. Almost
through instinct, he met Majima's eyes. Majima didn't dare look
away. Their eyes only broke contact when Kuze continued walking,
and Kiryu followed without a word. Majima laid his forehead against
the cool glass of his window. “Kiryu Kazuma... huh?” Something told
him, whether it was intuition or fate, that this wasn't the last time
they'd see each other.

Somehow, he knew that he would cross paths with Kiryu again.

47

1988
Like a glove

Majima Goro was many things. He'd seen the rise and fall of his
criminal career before he'd turned a quarter of a century. He'd been
helpless and powerful, indestructible and fragile. There were times
when it felt like he could take over the world. And there were times,
like that warm, summer night in Sotenbori, that he felt ready to keel
over from an ulcer at any minute.

“I'm so sorry, sir. We tried to turn him away but...”
It was Saturday night, and The Grand was hopping. Fridays and
Saturdays were always busy, but summer brought its own kind of
swamped evenings. Tourists, businessmen, foreigners, all chomping
at the bit to get their asses into those plush booth seats. Which,
unless you had a connection or one hell of a pocket book to burn,
was near impossible at this hour. Therefore, Majima Goro, dressed in
his standard tux and standing in the center of the welcome hallway,
could barely believe his eye when the one man whom he had
explicitly told his wait staff wasn't allowed in, was standing right in
front of him. He turned to the usher, who was sweating bullets. “I
thought I toldjya he was banned fer life.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“Ahhhh Majima-kun! Don't be like that!” Glaring, Majima turned
back to the guest in question. Everything about him irritated Majima.

48

From his stupid, hot magenta suit to his stupid hair to those stupid
diamonds in his ears. All compounded with that smarmy, shit eating
grin, and Majima felt the urge to pop him one in his stupid teeth.
Nishitani Homare. The bane of Majima's existence. And currently, the
unflushed turd in the toilet bowl that was Osaka prefecture. Majima
fixed his cuff and took a breath.

“Sir,” he said, in his best “customer service” voice possible.
“You've been told multiple times that you're banned from this
establishment. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave.”

“Come on now.” Nishitani pushed passed the usher and flung his
arm around Majima's shoulders. “You're just bein' unfair. Come on,
my money's as good as anybody's, ain't it?”

“Jury's still out.”
“Bah!” Nishitani waved his concerns away. “I keep tellin' yer boys
I'm here to apologize fer makin' a mess the last time, but they keep
turnin' me away. How am I supposed to get back into yer good graces
if you won't even let me buy you a drink?”
“Ain't thirsty.”
Nishitani heaved a huge sigh, and rather than pulling away from
Majima, threw his arms around him, full force. It took everything in
Majima's power not to shank him with his cufflinks. “I can't even
have just one measly hour on yer floor, Majima-kun?” He tilted his
head, his grin still wide. “Or hell, if you'd rather I not get too close to
yer gals, I'd even take a chat up in yer office.”

49

“A chat?” Majima turned his head, but didn't remove himself
from Nishitani. In a weird way, he felt like that would be giving the
bastard a win. “What for?”

“I toldjya. I'm here to say sorry.” Nishitani finally let Majima go,
and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Ain't it just proper manners
to hear me out?” After a moment of insufferable puppy eyes, Majima
finally relented, and spun to the left staircase.

“Fine,” he said. “You have ten minutes.”
Nishitani clapped his hands together. “More'n I need, pal!” They
walked up the steps together, Nishitani taking in the sights of The
Grand. Majima made a mental note to drill in the “banned for life”
policy with the wait staff even harder after this.
Leading Nishitani to his office, he opened it up and stepped aside.
Nishitani wandered in, taking a look around. It wasn't anything
spectacular. A simple 8x10ft loft with an overburdened desk, money
counting machine, telephone, bookshelf, water cooler and windows.
It might as well have been an office cubicle for how inaccurately it
reflected the club. There was, however, one small detail that was
different that night. As Nishitani made his way to the sitting couch,
he noticed a dress, slung over the arm. He swooped in and held it up,
admiring it. It was a sparkly, pink body-con, encrusted with
rhinestones. Nishitani let out a low whistle. “This is a nice number
here! It come in your size, bud?”

50