Love of a Lifetime

“Yeah?”
Akiyama rolled over and gave him a deep, loving kiss. “You work
in the morning?” Ryuji shook his head. “Good. Then we'll get on line
first thing tomorrow and start looking. Yeah?” Ryuji's smile widened,
and he wrapped his tree trunk arms around Akiyama's slender waist.
“Sounds like a plan.”

401

Chapter 3: A return Investment

There were very few places hotter than a stuffy mechanic’s
garage in the dead of summer. A sauna, an active volcano, maybe
Hell itself had the place beat, though it was a close call. Currently,
Yakuzu’s Auto and Body repair shop was nearly unlivable for how
disgustingly hot it was. Fans worked overtime, though all they could
produce was a light breeze on occasion. The shop itself was cluttered
top to bottom with machine parts, photographs, questionable
magazine spreads, and boxes and boxes of endless tools. In the
center of the floor was a car, with a bulky mechanic underneath it,
laying flat on a wheeled board.

As he worked, the shop owner spoke over his clipboard to the
car’s owner. Tsubashi was getting on in age, with a leathery face and
pinprick eyes. He wore the same, oil stained coveralls every day since
the eighties, and despite his bad back and fading eyesight, was seen
at the shop every day since it opened. “Okay… so considering what
we’re doing for you today, with the transmission and the breaks…
Changing out the battery too… And the alignment… It’s going to
come to ¥1.86 million.”

“Eh!?” The customer, a scrawny kid with vivid orange hair,
gawked at the price. He was barely in his twenties, and between his
baggy clothes and his piercings, had the makings of a pain in the ass
punk written all over his face. “That’s way more than I got, old man!
Come on, bring the price down a little!”

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Tsubashi shook his head. “We had to do way more work on it
than we thought,” he said. “I’m surprised it was running when you
brought it in. It hadn’t even been properly smogged in years.”

“This is clearly a scam!” the punk accused. “No way my car
needed that much work! You’re just tryin’ to squeeze me for
everything you can! I ain’t payin’ that--!”

“If you don’t want the bill…” The punk looked over to see the
mechanic rise from beneath his junker car. As he extended to full
height, the customer’s face paled. Ryuji, splattered with oil stains and
slick with sweat, wiped his hands with a filthy rag as he spoke.
“...then don’t drive such a piece of shit car.”

The customer instantly shrunk an inch in height. His wide eyes
looked Ryuji up and down as he desperately tried to find his voice.
Tsubashi flashed a smile at his main mechanic and flipped the
clipboard around to the terrified customer. “Sign here please.” With
shaking hands, the punk put down his signature. “Excellent. We’ll
send you the bill in three to five business days.” The punk had no
words to protest, and instead watched Ryuji lumber to the break
room to grab himself a water.

Once Tsubashi was finished, he too followed Ryuji into the break
room, patting his bald head down with a wet rag. “Wheeew,” he
sighed. “It’s far too hot, Ryuji-san. The weatherman said we’re in for
high temperatures all week.”

Ryuji wiped his face down and went to his locker. The breakroom
was one part lunch area, one part changing room, and so Ryuji

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showed no hesitancy about yanking off his sweaty shirt to replace it
with a clean one. Tsubashi wasn’t bothered by the dragon on his
back. “You should probably get some better AC units,” Ryuji said,
patting himself dry. “You’d think a mechanic shop can afford to keep
some good ones up and running.”

Tsubashi chuckled. “Sadly, I don’t think the best industrial units in
the world can save us from this heat.” Ryuji grunted and checked the
time. His shift was almost up. “So,” Tsubashi continued, “how’s the
new house?”

Ryuji flashed a smile. “It’s nice. We found one we liked just far
enough outside the city. Makes sleeping at night a breeze without all
the noise pollution. The garage is great. Plenty of space to work.”

“And how’s that ‘roommate’ of yours? Hm?” Ryuji kept his face
pointed to the locker, his gut twisting at the question. Tsubashi
laughed at his hesitancy and slapped a hand on his back. “Come on,
don’t clam up on me, son! I don’t give two shits who you bring to
bed, you know that.”

Ryuji shook his head. “Look, boss, I appreciate that you’re being
supportive and all but I…”

Tsubashi threw up his hands. “I know, I know. You’re still not used
to being out. I get you. But there’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

Ryuji closed his locker and shook his head. “It’s not that I’m
ashamed. I’m just… not… used to it. That’s all.”

404

Tsubashi grabbed a lukewarm bottle of water from the fridge.
“Old habits die hard, I guess.” He unscrewed the cap and took a swig.
“Are you at least happy?”

Ryuji leaned against the lockers and folded his thick arms. A smile
flickered across his wide jaw. “Yeah,” he said. “Happier than I’ve been
in ages.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” Tsubashi squeezed Ryuji’s shoulder,
and they shared a moment of solidarity. “What do you say we go out
for drinks tonight? To celebrate your homecoming.”

But Ryuji shook his head. “Sorry. I got… uh… other plans.”
“Oooooh, other plans, huh? All right, all right.” Tsubashi nudged
Ryuji’s ribs. “Don’t go too hard on him, eh?”
Ryuji snorted. “You’re such an old pervert, boss.” Tsubashi
grinned wider; Ryuji hit the nail on the head with that one. After
cleaning up and clocking out, Ryuji headed down the street to the
local supermarket. He dug out a grocery list from his pocket and set
to work. Milk, eggs, pork, rice, vegetables… Ryuji grabbed a hand
basket and started going down the aisles. Eventually, he found his
way to the butcher counter, and was debating on the price of pork,
when a tiny cry of fear brought him out of his thoughts. Turning, he
saw a boy, no older than six, clinging to his mother’s skirts as he
looked on Ryuji with terror.
“M-Mama—!” he cried softly. “It’s a m-monster—!”
The mother, clearly embarrassed, tugged on her son’s ear and
quietly reprimanded him. Turning to Ryuji, she bowed her head in

405

apology. “I am so sorry, sir,” she said. “His imagination runs wild
sometimes…”

Ryuji, holding up his choice slab of meat, looked back down to
the terrified child. There was no imagination there. Just the plain and
simple fact that the boy knew a threat when he saw one. Ryuji
shoved the pork into his basket and turned to the mother. Despite
her apology, he could see fear in her eyes, too.

“Don’t sweat it. ‘Scuse me.” As he walked, the mother and her
son quickly pushed out of the way to let him pass. Ryuji’s expression
never changed. He supposed he should be used to it. Ever since he
was a teenager, he’d stirred fear by a single glance. When the scum
of the earth trembled in fear at his very presence, it was catharsis at
its best. Not so much when kids did it.

Ryuji checked out, looking past the sheepish glances of the
twiggy cashier, took his bags, and walked out into the setting sun. He
kept his eyes focused, ignoring the way teenagers and women would
cross the street when he walked by. Told himself it didn’t matter
when terrified eyes followed him as he passed the local playground.
Hell, even the barkers down Pink Street didn’t call quite as loud
towards him as they did other people. This had always been Ryuji’s
life.

At least now, there was someone who didn’t shy away from him
these days.

Catching the bus, Ryuji rode a few stops until he came to a small
suburb just outside the city blocks of Kamurocho. It wasn’t exactly

406

picturesque; there were plenty of houses with rowdy twenty-
somethings who didn’t bother to keep up their repairs. But it was
close enough to the city for both he and Akiyama to work, and most
importantly, it came with a garage. Ryuji walked through the gate and
admired the place. It was a two story house, most likely a perfect fit
for a small family. For him and Akiyama, there was plenty of room to
stretch out. He grabbed the mail on the way in, but just as he
reached the threshold, he paused.

Keys in hand, Ryuji turned to the street. Nothing unusual jumped
out at him. Still, there was an odd sensation in his stomach. The
sensation that someone, somewhere, was watching him. Ryuji
lingered a moment longer before stepping into the genkan and taking
off his massive work books.

“I’m home!” he announced. His announcement was met with a
desperate thump upstairs, and a bunch of frantic shuffling. Ryuji
looked above him with a frown. “Aki-chan?” He placed the groceries
on the kitchen counter and stepped inside. There were still plenty of
boxes in the process of being unpacked, and from the sight of the
empty beer cans and full ashtrays, Akiyama had gotten plenty
distracted while he was supposed to be putting things away. At least
they’d gotten the TV up and running before anything else.

Upstairs, Ryuji heard Akiyama mutter something frantically, and
then run down the steps to where Ryuji stood waiting. Akiyama was
sweating, his casual clothes haphazardly thrown on. “W-welcome

407

home!” he panted. His smile read guilt to the enth degree, and Ryuji
narrowed his eyes. He put his hands on his hips.

“What’s up?”
“What? Nothing. Nothing’s up.”
“You’re out of breath.”
“Ha ha! Y-yeah I guess I am! Ah… cigarettes, you know?”
That paranoia from before returned, but now, it was tenfold.
Reasonably, Ryuji shouldn’t have suspected anything about Akiyama;
he’d always been honest in their relationship. But he couldn’t help it.
Seeing one’s boyfriend in such a state when one came home from
work was… troubling, to say the least.
“Is the bedroom unpacked?” Ryuji asked.
“O-oh, yeah! All unpacked!”
“Mind if I see?”
Akiyama’s smile strained. “W-well uh—!” Above them, they heard
something tumble around. Ryuji didn’t wait for permission. Pushing
past Akiyama, he thundered upstairs, his boyfriend frantically
following him. “R-Ryu-kun, wait! I just remembered I’m not entirely
done--!”
“Then you won’t mind if I help.” Coming to the top floor, Ryuji
made a bee-line for the master bedroom at the end of the hall.
Akiyama tried running forward to block his path, but Ryuji was
unstoppable as a bullet train.
“You just got home!” Akiyama reminded him. “Why don’t you sit
down and I’ll get you a nice cold beer—?” Akiyama pulled on his arm,

408

but it did little to stop him. Reaching forward, Ryuji yanked open the
door, fully prepared to deal with whatever scumbag was hiding in
their new closet. However, when he stepped inside, what he saw
threw him for a loop.

On the floor, in the middle of a pile of shredded paper, was a dog.
Not just any dog, but a fat, fluffy shibu inu, with a massive pink bow
tied around its neck. Currently, it was gnawing on a sock, rounding off
its trail of destruction nicely. The paper, Ryuji noticed, was a sign,
hand painted, to say: “Welcome Home.”

“Ahhhh shit.” Akiyama pushed past Ryuji and pulled the sock out
of the dog’s mouth. “She was supposed to be a surprise, but I haven’t
been able to keep her from chewing on stuff!” The dog barked and
jumped into Akiyama’s lap, licking at his hand. “I had this whole thing
planned. There was going to be this sign, and you were supposed to
walk in and see her all cute on the bed…”

Ryuji, still in awe, knelt down next to Akiyama and reached out
for the pooch. Without fail, it turned and slobbered his hand with
endless kisses. Ryuji’s eyes lit up. “Aki-chan…”

Akiyama smiled, meekly. “Surprise?” He didn’t have time to say
much else as Ryuji took him by the back of the neck, brought him in,
and kissed him deeply. When they parted, their new dog barked and
burrowed into Ryuji’s lap, automatically finding comfort in those big
thighs. “She doesn’t have a name yet,” Akiyama said. “Figured you’d
want to do the honors. Maybe something cute and girly.” He

409

chuckled. “Though with how she totally trashed the bedroom, maybe
not.”

Ryuji picked her up, and she smiled wide, her tongue lolling to
one side. “Are you just a little killer…?” The dog barked in response,
wagging her curly tail. Ryuji’s eyes brightened, and he brought her
back down to his lap, where he scratched her belly. “Yes you are!
Such a cute little monster…” He turned to Akiyama with delight.
“How about ‘Killer’?”

“Killer?” Akiyama repeated. He stared down at the puppy, who
was still very much enjoying her belly scratches. “Are you sure…?”

“Absolutely!” Ryuji set her on the floor, and she gnawed at a stray
ribbon from her neck. “Look at her! An apex predator if ever I saw
one.” Currently, Killer was scratching at her chin with her back paw,
and after a shake of her coat, went back to attacking the remains of
Akiyama’s hand-painted sign.

Akiyama smiled. “Yeah… I guess you’re right. Killer it is.”
“Rrarf!”

◈◈◈
Ever since prison, Ryuji hadn’t been able to ditch the habit of
waking up early. His job definitely didn’t require him to come in until
about 10am, but even so, five years of waking up at six every
morning had an effect on a guy. Plainly put, he couldn’t sleep past
nine if he wanted to. And with the addition of Killer to their new
household, Ryuji had even more of a reason to wake up before the
rest of the neighborhood.

410

Today was his day off, and like every morning since Akiyama’s
surprise, Ryuji got up, took a quick shower, dressed for a run, and
took Killer on a loop around the block. While normally, Ryuji’s
presence alone incited fear or aversion from his neighbors, even the
sketchier ones, Killer’s presence set the other early risers at ease.
Some even waved as Ryuji passed, or asked to pet Killer while they
were taking the garbage cans to the curb. Ryuji recalled when he
walked his old neighbor’s dog Poppy, and how he would often
experience the same attention. Funny how much a cute dog could do
for the appearance of an otherwise terrifying guy.

Once Ryuji and Killer made their loop, they returned home, and
Killer immediately went for her pink princess puppy bowl, hand
painted with a glittery skull on the side. “Aki-chan!” Ryuji called,
glancing at the time. “You up yet?!” It was almost 9am, and for
Akiyama, a work day. Ryuji wandered into the kitchen to start a pot
of coffee, when he heard a distinct “thud!” above him. He looked to
the stairs as Akiyama tumbled into sight, frantically throwing on his
clothes.

“Ahhhh! Hana-chan is going to kill me if I’m late--!”
“Why?” Ryuji asked. “It’s your company. Can’t the boss come in
whenever he likes?”
“Not when the boss has collections to make,” Akiyama argued,
zipping up his pants. “Last time I slacked off, Hana-chan threatened
to quit on me.”
“I don’t know if she was serious.”

411

“Yeah, well, I’m not prepared to take that chance.” Akiyama
checked his keys, phone, and wallet, and once he was satisfied, bent
over the kitchen counter to steal a kiss before heading to the door.
“I’ll see you later!”

“Okay. Pork cutlets for dinner tonight. Don’t eat before you get
home!”

“Promise!”
With that, Akiyama was out the door. Ryuji shook his head. “It’s a
wonder he doesn’t fall apart at the seams sometimes,” he told Killer.
With a yawn, Ryuji’s puppy trotted over to a sunspot and plopped
onto her back, warming her belly in the morning light.
After breakfast, Ryuji busied himself with chores around the
house. He did the dishes, vacuumed upstairs, started laundry, and
swept the porch. All the while, Killer followed him around from place
to place, nipping at his heels. Ryuji, of course, made time to play with
her, choosing from the seemingly endless supply of pet toys. Ryuji
had formed a habit of coming home from the grocery store with
something fun for Killer. In all honesty, he wouldn’t be surprised if his
entire paycheck went to spoiling her one day.
When the laundry was finished, Ryuji took the linens out to the
back to hang up on the line to dry. Killer trotted out next to him, and
took a direct interest in a caterpillar on one of their shrubs. Setting
his basket to one side, Ryuji took a handful of clothespins and started
hanging the sheets to dry.
“E...excuse me…”

412

The nervous voice brought Ryuji out of his thoughts. A pin
between his teeth, he looked over to see three young men standing
in the alley space outside his back yard, separated by the chest high
brick wall that fenced off Ryuji’s property. The men in question
couldn’t have been older than twenty five. They wore baggy, brightly
colored clothes and gaudy jewelry. Their hair was dyed and spiked,
and while they put on brave faces, Ryuji could see the fear of a child
in their eyes. The middle one, who seemed to be the leader, spoke
again. “Are you… Goda Ryuji-san?”

“Eh?” Ryuji took the wooden clothespin out of his mouth and
gave the trio another once over. That’s when he placed the young
man who spoke. “Wait a minute. I’ve seen you before. You’re that
dumbshit customer from a couple weeks ago. The asshole with the
jalopy.”

One of the punks tried to hide his snickers. While the blond kid
was clearly embarrassed, he swallowed his pride and pressed
forward. “I’m Takai. These are my boys. You… are Goda Ryuji, right?”

“What’s it to ya?”
Drawing his brows in tight, Takai slapped his hands together and
bowed his head. “We need you to lead us, Goda-san!”
“Please, Goda-san!” the other two chimed in, mimicking the
former’s clasped hands.
Ryuji put a hand on his hip, his eyes bored at the plea for help.
“The fuck do you mean, ‘lead you’? Can’t you see I’m busy?” He
thumbed at the bedsheet drying in the wind.

413

Takai lifted his head, a little confused, but continued. “Please.
We’re a small gang. We don’t have the manpower to fight the
assholes taking our territory. But you’re the Dragon of Kansai!
Rightful heir to the Omi Clan! Everyone’s heard of you!”

“Sorry, kid.” Ryuji grabbed a fresh sheet and proceeded to pin it
next to the old one. “That ain’t me. Not anymore, anyway.”

The punks looked at each other, desperate. The one on Takai’s
right—a pudgy kid with red brown hair—spoke up. “But it is you,
right? You wouldn’t even need to fight! Just show up to scare them
off!”

“Yeah,” Takai agreed. “You won’t even have to get your hands
dirty!” The third nodded in agreement.

“Pass.”
“W-we can pay you!” Takai offered. “Not much, but—”
“Double pass.”
Takai floundered. He looked to his boys for additional
suggestions. The third punk, who was a head shorter than his
compatriots, braced himself against the garden wall. “Why not?” he
demanded. “You’re clearly not that busy if you’ve got time to play
maid. What, did the Dragon of Dojima beat you so bad that you went
soft?”
That was the wrong choice of words. For a moment, Ryuji’s hands
lingered on the line. He dropped them to his side, and the punks
realized far too late that their big mouths might have gotten them
into serious trouble. Ryuji approached them, and they learned

414

quickly just how big Ryuji was by comparison. “You fuckers have five
seconds to get out of my sight.”

Despite the evident fear on Takai’s face, he braced himself and
stood his ground. “Wh-why won’t you even consider—?”

“Because.” Ryuji glanced down at his feet. “My dog doesn’t like
you.” The punks blinked and collectively looked at Killer. Currently,
Killer was rolling happily in a small patch of clover, wiggling in the
dirt. “Now, are you assholes leaving or do I have to toss you out with
the rest of the garbage?”

The punks flinched, sweat glistening on their foreheads. Clearly,
Takai wanted to stay and argue, but there was clearly no winning.
With one last glance, the three punks hurried down the alleyway and
out of sight. Ryuji shook his head and bent down to pet Killer’s belly.
“Kids these days…”

“Rarf.”

◈◈◈
It was late. Despite that, Ryuji couldn’t sleep. Laying flat on his
back, he kept one hand behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.
Akiyama, rolled onto one side, was snoring softly. Ryuji barely
noticed. In fact, if Akiyama was a totally silent sleeper, Ryuji might
not have been able to get any shuteye at their new place at all.
Frankly, it was too quiet at night. After spending years falling asleep
to the sound of a bustling city, the silence of the suburbs was a hard
thing to get used to. Ryuji sighed. He glanced over at the back of
Akiyama’s head. His own was full of thoughts from that afternoon.

415

“...did the Dragon of Dojima beat you so bad you went soft?”
It was a stupid thing to get hung up on. But Ryuji was nothing if
not prideful. Those dumb kids were probably still in grade school
when he and Kiryu Kazuma faced off, and yet they knew enough
about that fight to rub it in Ryuji’s face. Ryuji rubbed his eyes and
rolled onto his side, facing Akiyama. He needed a distraction. His
hand slithered underneath the blanket, and wrapped itself around
Akiyama’s waist. He fiddled with the loose elastic of those gray
sweatpants, and toyed with Akiyama’s naval. His partner shifted in
the dark, before sighing awake.
“Ryu…?” Akiyama yawned and glanced over his shoulder. Ryuji
kissed his cheek, running his hand up and down Akiyama’s flat
tummy. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Can’t sleep.”
“Mm. Well I can.”
“C’mon, don’t be harsh.”
“Mmmmmm.”
They kissed, and slowly, Akiyama turned to meet Ryuji chest to
chest. Ryuji’s big arm wrapped around Akiyama, cradling him
beneath the sheets. As they kissed, their thighs began to shift against
one another. Akiyama’s body was beginning to wake up, which in
turn stirred Ryuji’s loins in a similar fashion. Ryuji started tugging at
their waistbands. Between kisses and laughter, their hands worked
each other into a fine lather, and before long, it was apparent that
neither one was going to be sleeping much tonight.

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Reaching over, Ryuji grabbed lube from the bedside table and
squirted some on his fingers. As he massaged Akiyama’s ass into
loosening, he felt his boyfriend purr with delight, his dick throbbing
with every pump of blood. Ryuji’s own massive cock was hungry,
twitching every time it felt a touch of skin. When they were both
finally ready, Ryuji settled himself between Akiyama’s thighs.

That’s when he heard a shuffle. Ryuji paused and lifted his head.
It was difficult to put his finger on what it was. Akiyama lifted his
head, irritated that they stopped. “What?” he asked.

“I thought I heard something…”
Akiyama listened as well, and shook his head. “It’s probably just
Killer downstairs.”
“I guess…” Ryuji turned to the business at hand. Carefully, he
wedged himself inside Akiyama and began to push. Akiyama moaned
outright, his arms and legs wrapped around Ryuji’s massive chest.
Once he managed to get all the way inside, Ryuji began to sway. One
hand settled on Akiyama’s hip, the other cupped his shoulders.
Akiyama gasped and sighed, his legs hanging high in the air. Ryuji
bent his back, starting slow and deep. They kissed and clawed at
each other, their hot breath fogging up the air between them.
Another rustling pulled Ryuji out of the moment. He lifted his
head and turned it to the door, stopping. Akiyama whimpered
beneath him. “Ryu-chi,” he whined. He tightened his legs around
Ryuji’s hips, and directed his head back to Akiyama’s with a hand.

417

“Sorry.” Ryuji kissed him and began again. He burrowed his face
into Akiyama’s neck. Their skin slapped together, building up a fine
sweat. Akiyama arched his back for a better angle, moaning loudly
with every new thrust. Ryuji took Akiyama’s hand and pinned it to
the pillows, using his other one to help hoist Akiyama’s narrow hips.
“Fuck…” he breathed. He bit down onto Akiyama’s shoulder, making
his boyfriend shiver with delight. He followed it up with a kiss and
huffed in Akiyama’s ear. “You like that, baby? Huh? You like my
cock…?”

“Y-yes…” Akiyama gasped. “F-fuck yes, right there, right there.”
Another noise from downstairs shattered the illusion, and Ryuji’s
head popped up. He stopped, listening closely. Akiyama was clearly
getting frustrated, but there was no time for that. He opened his
mouth to say something, but Ryuji held up a finger, silencing him.
That’s when they both heard Killer yelp in fear.
Immediately, Ryuji and Akiyama rolled out of bed, both on high
alert. They threw their sweats back on and rushed down stairs to see
what the problem was. Ryuji, who made it to the bottom floor first,
saw two things: the door was wide open, and someone wearing a ski
mask was running towards an unmarked van with their dog in his
arms.
“KILLER!” Ryuji thundered out to the front of their house, but by
the time he reached the front gate, the dog-napper jumped into the
open van, and the vehicle sped away into the night. “NO!” He

418

watched as those tail lights vanished into the night. Akiyama was at
his side with just enough time to see the aftermath.

“What happened?! Who were they?! Why did they take her!?”
Akiyama gripped his hair, totally winded by the sudden nabbing of
their beloved pooch.

There was no time to waste, Ryuji stormed back into the house.
“Get your keys!” he hollered. “I know who took her. We just gotta
find them.”

“R-right.” Akiyama hurried inside, and within a minute, they were
partially dressed and in Akiyama’s car. Akiyama sped off into the
night in the direction of Ryuji’s day job. When they arrived, Ryuji
didn’t even wait until the car was at a full stop before he jumped out.
Key in hand, he unlocked the shop and headed inside. Akiyama was
as close behind as he could manage, unbothered by his rushed
parking job outside. Ryuji went behind the counter and turned on his
boss’s computer, desperately thumbing through Tsubashi’s files. “So?
Who were they? And why take our dog!?”

“There were these dumbass kids today,” Ryuji explained. “Dunno
how they found out who I was, but they came to the house, going on
about wanting me to ‘lead’ them. I told them to get bent.” He found
the file he was looking for and thumbed through the information.
“Clearly, they’re desperate.” Finding the address, he wrote it down
quickly.

“God… Should we call the police?”

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“No. The last thing I want is the cops involved.” He pocketed the
address and headed back out towards the car. There was fire in his
eyes. “I don’t need to go to prison again after I beat those fuckers to
a pulp.” Soon enough, they were back in the car, and whizzing off to
their second location: Takai’s house.

Takai lived in a run down apartment building in the shittier parts
of Kamurocho. The alley ways were prime drug territory, and plenty
of shady characters hung out. When they reached the building in
question, Ryuji burst from Akiyama’s car and stormed through the
open gate into the complex. Akiyama stayed close behind.

“He should be on the third floor.” Akiyama nodded, and up they
went three flights of stairs. Already they could hear the sounds of a
dog whimpering inside apartment 305B. Ryuji practically raced to the
door, and without warning, kicked the door down in one fell swoop.

Once the dust settled, the inhabitants barely had time to register
the invasion before Ryuji and Akiyama rushed in, ready to settle the
score.

Reaching the living room, he took stock of what he saw. Indeed,
there was Takai and his punk friends, a coffee table of guns and
knives, and stuck in a tiny cage under the window, gnawing at the
door, was Killer. Takai was white as a ghost, too terrified to pull up
the gun he had in his hands. Ryuji yanked him up by his throat and
slammed him into the wall. He dropped his weapon in shock, and
stared, terrified, into Ryuji’s deathly glare.

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“Give me one reason,” he growled. “One reason not to snap your
fucking neck for taking my goddamn dog.” While Takai floundered,
Ryuji tilted his head over his shoulder. “Grab her, Aki-chan.”

“Right.” Akiyama, paying the other two shocked punks no mind,
hurried to Killer’s cage and undid the latch. He hoisted her up into his
arms, petting her as she licked his face. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “Your
daddies are here, Killer.”

“Ark!”
“W-wait!” The short punk drew a pistol on Akiyama with
trembling hands. “Y-you can’t! We can’t let the Dragon leave!”
Ryuji sneered dangerously and turned to Takai. “Tell your boy to
drop his gun,” he said, “or I rip his tongue out through his teeth.”
After a tense moment of back and forth glances, Takai nodded at his
friend, who lowered the pistol, letting Akiyama breathe a sigh of
relief. “Smart boy.”
Turning, Ryuji threw Takai into his friends, sending them crashing
to the floor like a cluster of bowling pins. Grabbing Takai by his hair,
Ryuji slammed his face into the floor, squishing it until he heard
something snap. When Ryuji pulled Takai back up, he was satisfied at
his broken nose, gushing blood. He raised his fist for a new round of
pain, when a hand came to his shoulder. Ryuji paused and looked up.
Akiyama tenderly squeezed his arm. His anger subsiding, he dropped
the punk and stood, addressing Killer in Akiyama’s arms. The dog
kissed him emphatically, and Ryuji let that tension leave his body.
“Let’s get out of here…”

421

“Why…?” Ryuji turned at the weak protest from the floor. The
pudgy one was on his knees, snot running down his face from fear.
“Why won’t you help us? You’re a legend. Why are you wasting your
life instead of going back into the fold…?”

“You wanna know why?” Ryuji turned away from Akiyama and
addressed the punks, his arms folded. “I’ll tell you. It’s because I’m
happy, you fucking maggots.” Behind him, Akiyama’s face softened,
though he said nothing.

“You called me a legend. A legend for what? Getting my ass
handed to me on a platter? This dragon on my back? You know fuck
all about me, you goddamn pissants. If you were smarter, you’d
realize that I didn’t go back to the life because it didn’t want me back.
Sure, I was sore about it for a while. Did my time in the slammer,
accrued some debts.

“You wanna know what happened when I got out? I got clean.
Did some honest work. Found out I liked it. And most of all, I found
somebody who cares about me. Not about my ‘legend,’ not about
who I used to be. Me. And the fact that you fuckers don’t see that is
the saddest thing I’ve ever fucking seen in my life. You want me to
lead you into some stupid fucking turf war? Bite me. You punk ass
dipshits are going to march into your own deaths for no reason other
than your stupid pride. Take it from me, assholes. That’s a fast track
ticket to get you killed. And you better be thankful I ain’t the man I
was, or you’d be leaving this fucking apartment in a bodybag. Do we
have an understanding, fuckers?” The punks were dead silent. Ryuji

422

took that as a yes. “Good. I see you again, I break your fucking legs.
Let’s go, Aki-chan.”

Ryuji turned and marched down the hall toward the stairs.
Akiyama stayed close the entire way to the car. The ride home was
silent. Ryuji, with Killer in his lap, snoozed on the way home. Though
with how his brows were drawn in, Akiyama was sure he was still
steaming, even in his dreams. After parking and locking up, they
headed inside. Akiyama made sure that every door and window was
locked up as tight as they could be. They escorted Killer up the stairs
and into bed, where all three of them nestled in together to finally
get some sleep.

“I guess our sexy time got ruined,” said Akiyama. He watched
Killer walk in circles between them before flopping into a
comfortable floof. “Oh well. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Ryuji laid flat on his back, hands laced over his thick
chest. “Stupid fucking kids. I should have caved in their skulls.”

Akiyama smiled kindly and nestled his head under Ryuji’s chin.
“Honestly? I’m glad you didn’t.”

Ryuji put his hand on the back of Akiyama’s neck. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He smiled wider. “I’d rather not fill out paperwork all
night at a police station.”
Finally, Ryuji chuckled. “I guess you have a point…” They laid
there in silence, the adrenaline leaving them both. Before they fell
asleep, Akiyama tapped Ryuji’s diaphragm.

423

“Hey, Beast.” Ryuji looked down. Akiyama met him with a kiss.
“I’m glad you’re happy.”

Ryuji smiled and closed his eyes, his lips flat against Akiyama’s
crown. “Me too, Stretch. Me too.”

◈◈◈
The heat didn't calm down for the entire week. For days on end,
Kamurocho suffered under the thumb of summer. Unfortunately, the
heat seemed to cause double the usual car trouble. Between the
stuffy air, the bugs, and the stink off melting garbage, Ryuji was eager
to end his day and head on home. However, that Friday, he didn't get
the opportunity to ask for an early day, as some mid-tier business
woman needed her breaks fixed. Fortunately, it wasn't too bad of a
repair, but it was enough to soak up the rest of Ryuji's afternoon.
It was about 3pm when Ryuji was thinking about taking a smoke
brake. He turned, ready to push out and take a ten, preferably with
his head in the freezer, when he noticed a trio of shoes standing in
front of his boss. Something about those shoes sparked familiarity.
Pushing out, Ryuji saw the face of Takai and his punks talking to
Tsubashi. Ryuji glared and stood, grabbing a rag for his greasy hands.
“Yo,” he grumbled. The punks whipped around to him, eyes wide
and fearful. “Unless you're here to pay your goddamn bill, our shop's
closed.”
Tsubashi frowned, but before he could reprimand Ryuji for his
poor customer service, a fifth face joined the conversation. “Relax,
Ryu-kun.” Akiyama stepped into view, smiling with his hands in his

424

pockets. It was far too hot for his usual pinstripe jacket, which he'd
undoubtedly left behind at the office. With his sleeves rolled up to
his elbows, Akiyama was barely able to keep the sweat from his
shaggy brow. “I told them to come talk to you.”

“You did?”
“We bumped into each other at the Poppo's down the street
from my office,” Akiyama explained. “After a bit of a conversation, we
came to an agreement.”
Ryuji stared at Takai. “What kind of agreement...?”
“Goda-san... sir.” Takai and his boys stood up straight, and
suddenly shoved their hands forward, presenting Ryuji with various
items: a six pack of warm beer, a bag of dog food, and a brand new,
sparkly pink dog collar. “Please, accept these gifts as an apology.”
Takai bowed his head low, keeping his hands in front of him. “We're
very sorry!”
“Right!” the short one echoed. “Very sorry, sir!”
“We swear we won't kidnap your dog again!”
Ryuji blinked. He turned to Akiyama, cocking an eyebrow.
Akiyama only smiled, fanning himself with an old magazine. “The
presents were their idea,” he said.
Ryuji took the gifts and set them aside. “You realize that I had
every right to beat your asses after that stunt.”
“We realize that, Goda-san!” Takai lifted his head, his eyes
hopeful. “I only wish we could convince you somehow to lead us...”

425

Ryuji chuckled and folded his thick arms. “Forget it, kiddo. Never
happening.” While Takai was clearly disappointed, he didn't argue
back. “But... since you came all this way to apologize... Maybe I can
give you some advice?” The punks looked up, eager for Ryuji's words
of wisdom. “There are gonna be times when everything you're
betting on falls through. Nothing is ever a sure thing, you know?
Whether it's in the service of the life or not, you can't face every day
one hundred percent sure that what you think is going to happen will
actually happen. Friends, family... All that shit has a breaking point.”

“Oh...” Takai hesitated. “So what's the advice?”
“The advice,” Ryuji continued, “is to keep goin', even in the face
of disappointment. Hell, especially then. Learn to work around the
obstacle. Who knows? It might turn out for the better.” Behind their
heads, Akiyama's smile warmed, and he leaned against the side of
the wall, watching them process Ryuji's words.
“Huh...” Takai stared off into space. “Keep going in the face of
disappointment. That's... not bad advice, actually.”
Ryuji narrowed his eyes. “What? You thought I was gonna give
you shit advice?”
“N-no!” Takai said quickly. “I just... I mean...!”
But, Ryuji laughed. “Relax, you squirrel. I'm just fuckin' with ya.”
Takai looked visibly eased, and flashed a timid smile. “Now go on. All
of you, get.” With one last nod, Takai lead his boys out of the repair
shop and into the stifling heat outside. Akiyama watched them leave
before turning to Ryuji.

426

“You got much longer?” he asked.
“Just gotta finish these breaks.” He pat the car. “After that, we're
still open for a few more hours...”
“Eh, I don't know if we'll have any more customers today,”
Tsubashi said, thoughtfully.
“Huh?” Ryuji blinked. “Are you sure? We've been pretty slammed
all week.”
Tsubashi shook his head. “Nah, I'm pretty certain we'll be dead
after this. Matter of fact...” He pat the tires on the business woman's
car. “Why don't you take the rest of the day? I'll finish this up.”
“Tsubashi-san...” Ryuji chuckled. He glanced at Akiyama. “Don't
let him full you, Aki-chan. Tsubashi's just an old pervert who likes to
get into other peoples' business.”
“I'm just an advocate for young love,” he swore, innocently.
“There's less and less of it these days. I try and support it whenever I
see it blossom.”
Akiyama chuckled. “Well, I for one appreciate that. I guess that
means I don't have to introduce myself to you. Good thing, too. I
hate small talk.” Ryuji changed quickly in the break room, and once
he was more presentable. He grabbed his bag and the two headed
out into the sunshine. Tsubashi waved them off as they left. “So?”
Akiyama asked, the bag of peace offerings between them. “What do
you think we should do with our free time? Hana-chan is closing up
shop for me for the weekend.”

427

Boldly, Ryuji took Akiyama's hand in the middle of the street. As
he smiled, sunshine bounced off his bright yellow hair. Despite the
heat, he could almost feel a breeze break its way through the city,
and all that discomfort washed away between them. “I think,” he
began, “I'd like to just... head home. If that's all right.”

Akiyama grinned. He laced their fingers tightly together, and
reaching up, pinched Ryuji's chin gently between his forefinger and
thumb. “Home it is,” he agreed. As they walked to Akiyama's car,
their hands remained interlocked. Neither one even considered the
possibility of letting go.

Like two puzzle pieces interlocked, Akiyama and Ryuji had found
their place. Hand in hand, walking together as equals, to the end of
the road and beyond.

428

2019
reprise

Chapter 1: death of a dragon

It was getting colder in Nagasugai. With the summer heat giving
way to fall nights, Kiryu was starting to feel the ache in his bones
from the rapid change in weather. Funny enough, he never had this
kind of pain when he lived in Tokyo, or even Okinawa. Something
about this city wormed its way down to his foundation, setting him
off kilter. As if his body itself was trying to tell Kiryu he didn't belong
in Fukuoka. Tightening his jacket, he glanced at his watch. It was
nearly 1 in the morning. His cab routes only should have taken him
until about 10pm, but Kiryu insisted on working longer. Anything to
make the extra cash these days.

As he walked to his apartment, a bag of convenience store
groceries in hand, he yawned, widely. When was the last time he got
any decent sleep? He recalled having trouble sleeping when he first
moved to Morning Glory, but that was different. He'd grown so used
to the noise of Kamurocho that the at night silence was unnerving.
Now, his lack of a decent schedule was due in part to him working all
hours whenever he could.

Turning down a short alley, he climbed the steps to his
apartment, fishing for his keys as he went. Maybe he'd sleep in

429

tomorrow? Treat himself to some well deserved rest. If he could,
anyway. Pulling out his house key, he slid it in and was about to turn,
when something sparked in his mind. He paused, and looked around
him. Call it that old, yakuza instinct, but somehow, Kiryu felt that
something was off. He strained his ears, listening intently. Nothing.
Carefully, Kiryu opened his door, and stepped inside.

His apartment was dark, with only a sliver of incandescent light
coming from the window. Kiryu slipped off his shoes and set his
groceries on the tiny kitchen counter. Setting the bag aside, Kiryu
filled up his tea kettle, set it on the stove, and switched on the gas
burner. He watched the fire light up blue, and for a moment, stood
silently as it boiled.

“How'd you find me...” Kiryu turned to face the darkness.
“...Majima-no-niisan?”

At first, only the soft light of a cigarette cherry answered him. The
figure behind it barely moved. Legs crossed as he sat on a pillow by
the window, Majima Goro watched Kiryu over his trail of smoke. “It
wasn't easy,” he said calmly. Majima pushed himself to his feet and
stepped into view. He had clearly been waiting a while. Dressed in his
more formal attire, Majima had discarded his jacket and tie and
rolled up his sleeves for comfort. No matter how many times Kiryu
saw Majima in his “patriarch” clothing, it never felt right. “For a man
the size of a barn, ye're hard to find when you wanna be.”

Kiryu returned to his kettle, and pulled out a mug and a teabag.
“You could say that was the point,” he agreed.

430

Majima scoffed. Walking to the entry way, he leaned against the
bathroom door and watched as Kiryu prepped his dinner. A cheap
bowl of instant noodles. “I see ye're takin' care of yourself,” he
scolded.

“Gotta save money.”
“For what?”
“My kids.”
“You mean the kids you abandoned?” The teapot settled on the
burner, and from inside, the water rumbled as it started to boil. Kiryu
didn't turn to Majima. Majima glared. “Not a word of warning. Just
one day... poof.”
“The kids knew,” said Kiryu.
“Sure,” Majima agreed, “so when were you gonna tell me? Huh?”
The kettle began to whistle, and Kiryu poured his water into his
tea and noodles, respectively. Once they were both filled, he set it
back on the burner and shut off the stove. He didn't move, letting his
hand linger on the kettle. “...I wasn't.” A long minute passed between
them. Only the clock on the wall dared make a sound as that fact
hung in the air. Finally, Majima pushed off the door and snubbed his
cigarette out on the wall. Not caring for any damage done to Kiryu's
tiny apartment.
“Guess it was fuckin' obvious,” Majima finally said. “Still. Usually
when some fuck decides to dump me, they have the decency to say it
to my face.”

431

Kiryu finally turned to Majima. Majima stared at the burn hole he
made in the plaster, rather than indulging those warm eyes of his.
“Majima-san... Things weren't exactly perfect between us these past
couple of years. You know that.” Majima did, but didn't admit it. “You
were busy with Tojo business. I had my orphanage to run. It was
bound to happen.” Majima glanced up at Kiryu. His first mistake.
Those brows were furrowed with sincerity, with eyes that Majima
could and had gotten lost in for eons. Kiryu certainly liked to make
things harder, didn't he? “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Yeah, well.” Majima shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to
suppress his trembling lip. “Shoulda coulda woulda, right?” He
coughed as an excuse to clear his throat. The last thing he needed
was to be a blubbering mess in front of Kiryu right then. “I guess at
least this way I get a decent goodbye, huh?”

“I guess,” Kiryu agreed softly. He took a half step forward.
“Majima—”

“Don't.” Majima turned to him, that heartbreak starting to chip
away at his aloof facade. “I get it. I get why you're...” He gestured
vaguely. “You're done. Done with all of it. Focusing on lettin' your
little girl reach her dreams.”

“Majima...”
Majima rubbed his nose with the back of his wrist. Grabbing his
blazer from the coat rack, he fixed his sleeves and threw it on. Kiryu
watched as Majima went to the genkan and slid into his trademark,
steel-toed boots. Tapping his toe on the ground, he opened the door.

432

“Excuse my interruption...” A hand laid on Majima's shoulder. It
stalled him. Made him weak. He should have gone off right then and
there. Stormed out of Kiryu's life, which is what he clearly so
desperately wanted. But then that hand. Slowly, Kiryu turned Majima
where he stood, and the two were soon face to face. Majima had
always been tall, but right then, it felt like Kiryu Kazuma towered over
him like a redwood. His hand went to Majima's sallow cheek. Majima
couldn't help it. He tilted his head into that hand, closing his eye.
Kiryu leaned forward, and without a word, their lips connected.

It was a soft, somber kiss. One that said so many things that
neither man could bring themselves to utter. Years of love, of
companionship. Years of heartache and competition. All the things
they wanted, all the goals left unfinished. It all sat there, in that one
kiss. When Kiryu pulled back, Majima nearly pushed forward for a
second, but restrained himself.

“I'll always love you, you know.” Kiryu's voice was barely that
above a whisper. Majima's throat closed up. He didn't know how to
answer that, even if he could. With his heart the weight of a
thousand bricks, Majima turned and left, shutting the door promptly
behind him. Out into the brisk fall air, Majima braced himself on the
railing. He half expected Kiryu to follow him out. To invite him back
inside, to apologize. None of it came to pass. Tears threatened to fall,
but Majima shoved them down. He wouldn't let his weakness get the
better of him, not like this. After he'd calmed down, Majima turned

433

and started heading down the stairs. He didn't know where he was
headed. All he knew was that he desperately needed a drink.

That was the last time Majima saw Kiryu Kazuma alive.
A lot had transpired in those four years after. After Majima's own
faked demise, Kiryu was in the slammer before Majima had a chance
to catch him. And by the time Kiryu was on his way out, Majima was
on his way in. He got the news of Kiryu's death while he was still in
jail. He'd been sent to solitary because he'd tried to shish kebab
some asshole who tried to swipe his pudding during lunch with a
spork. After two days in the hole, he was escorted back to his cell,
where he saw a letter waiting for him. It was from the re-instated
acting Chairwoman Dojima Yoyai, informing all the Tojo patriarchs
that the Dragon of Dojima had died. Majima had been in a fog ever
since. In the days leading to his release, he read and reread the letter
hundreds of times. His appetite was shot, and sleep was nonexistent.
None of it seemed real. When Daigo and Saejima greeted him upon
his release, Majima half expected to see Kiryu among them. Smiling,
or ready to scold Majima for getting himself caught. It was the
expectation of a child.
And so, the day of Kiryu's memorial at Tojo Headquarters arrived.
That morning, Majima made a depressing note about how much
frequent use his funeral suit was getting these days. Though, if he
was being honest with himself, he never thought he'd be wearing it
for Kiryu. He always figured that, some day, Kiryu would be the one
wearing his for him. As he pondered this in the back seat of his car,

434

Majima smiled bitterly. Damn bastard. Forcing Majima to wear this
fucking monkey suit one last time.

The car turned the corner, and Majima looked out his window.
Gaggles of black suits slowly filtered in through the front gates of
headquarters. As his car pulled up for Majima to be let out, he caught
sight of the courtyard. Perhaps he shouldn't have been shocked, but
the sheer number of mourners was immeasurable. Majima had never
seen headquarters so packed, not even when Sera kicked the bucket.
When Majima got out, the scene was so chaotic that barely anyone
even noticed. A few grunts bowed their heads, but Majima was
simply one in a sea of hundreds. He wondered if the whole damn
clan was there to honor Kiryu.

Stepping up to the front, he went to the reception area and
signed his name in. The man behind the table bowed his head, giving
his condolences. Majima accepted them without a word, and weaved
his way through the crowd into the main hall. There, between the
staircases, were a few familiar faces. Daigo and Yayoi were speaking
lowly, with Saejima not far off. Majima approached the three,
Saejima being the first to notice him.

“Kyodai.” Daigo and Yayoi looked up as well, and Majima nodded
in greeting. Saejima's brick of a face barely shifted much. “You doin'
all right?” he asked.

“As well as anybody,” said Majima. He bowed his head directly
towards the Dojimas. “Sixth Chairman. Madam Dojima.”

435

“There's no need for that kind of formality today, Majima-san,”
said Daigo. “We were all Kiryu-san's friends.”

Majima looked out to the crowd. “Fella had a lotta friends, didn't
he?”

Saejima put his hand on Majima's shoulder. “You got that eulogy
finished?”

“Yeah. Figured I'd go into what kinda porn he liked...” Despite
Yayoi's face souring, that at least got a smile from Daigo and Saejima.
Momentarily distracted, Majima craned his neck. “Where's the
princess...?”

“Haruka-chan's inside already.” Daigo gestured to the main doors,
leading into the ballroom. “I'm sure she'd like to see you before we
start.” Majima wasn't one hundred percent in agreement, but he did
want to check up on the girl. With a nod, he excused himself and
walked further in. Stepping into the ball room, he paused to scan the
area.

At the back of the room was a box of ashes, sitting on a table
adorned with black and white lilies. A photo of Kiryu, sitting in a black
frame, sat at the right of the altar. It was an old school photo, as
evidenced by his uniform and the youth of his face. The photo next to
it, however, was a far more recent depiction. It was Kiryu Kazuma, in
that ugly Hawaiian shirt, surrounded by happy, smiling kids. Come to
think of it, there weren't too many pictures of Kiryu floating around.
At least he was happy in one of them.

436

A low warble caught his attention, and he turned to his left.
Sitting in the front row were two figures. He started walking down
the aisle to get a better view. Majima recognized Haruka immediately
by her high ponytail, even though it was the first time he'd ever seen
her in black. Next to her sat a boy, perhaps one or two years her
senior, that Majima couldn't place. But judging by the way he was
bent over the baby in her arms, Majima figured he must have been
the father. Haruka looked up just as Majima reached the second row.

“Uncle Maji...” Haruka and the boy stood. Majima noticed that
her date stood stiffly, and awkwardly shuffled his feet in Majima's
presence.

“Heya, Haruka-chan.” He managed a half-decent smile. “Is this
him?”

“Ah, yes.” Haruka stepped forward. “This is Haruto. Haruto, this is
your Uncle Majima.” Majima looked at the baby, who stared at
Majima with wide, fascinated eyes. Majima hovered his gloved hand
over Haruto's face. The baby grabbed it immediately and started
teething on the leather. Majima chuckled.

“Pretty bold of the lil' shit to start slobberin' over a patriarch.”
There was fondness in his voice, however, and he let the boy slobber
as much as he wanted. While Haruka beamed, Majima glanced up at
the yet unnamed kid hovering behind her. “And this is...?”

“A-ah.” He stepped forward and bowed his head low. “Usami
Yuta. Formerly of the Hirose family in Hiroshima. I've heard a lot
about you, Majima-san. It's an honor to meet you.”

437

“You the baby daddy?”
“U-uh... yes.”
“Eh.” Majima finally removed his hand and stepped forward to
Yuta. The kid wasn't bad looking. Haruka's age, which was good.
When Majima heard rumors that Haruka had herself a kid, he half
expected the father to be some sleazy old man twice her age. But
then again, she was Kiryu's daughter. She'd probably be too much for
any perv who tried to put the moves on her. Majima leaned in,
peering at Yuta, who tried desperately not to look too intimidated.
He was failing. “He's scrawny.”
“Eh?” Yuta blinked. “Sir?”
Majima actually picked up one of Yuta's arms, and flopped it in
the air. “Look at this! Haruka-chan, you coulda had any boy in Japan,
yet here you are, pickin' a wet noodle.”
“U-um—! I-I'm not that skinny!”
But Haruka only laughed. “Quit teasing him, Uncle Maji.” Majima
let his arm go. “Yuta-kun is a good daddy to Haruto. You're welcome
to come by the orphanage and see for yourself any time you want.”
“That right?” Majima put his hands on his narrow hips. “Well if
Haruka-chan says so, kid, I guess I have to believe it. For now. But I
got my eye on you.”
Yuta nodded in defeat. “Yes, sir.”
Majima went back to the kid in question. Maybe it had just been
a while since he'd seen a baby up close, but he looked big for his age.
His chubby cheeks made his head practically a perfect circle, and

438

those little baby hairs stuck up at odd angles. No doubt Haruka had
tried several times to wet them and flatten them down, but up they
stayed. Majima's face softened as he watched Haruto find his fingers
suddenly fascinating. “Strange,” he said. “I know Kiryu-chan wasn't
yer real dad but... I think he's got his grandpa's eyes.”

Haruka's smile saddened, and she hoisted Haruto up a little in her
arms. He looked up at his mother with delight, and smacked his
hands together. “Yes,” she agreed. “I think you're right, somehow.”
On a dime, Haruto's happy face turned sour, and he began to stir in
Haruka's arms. Majima blinked and sniffed the air. Haruka spoke
again. “Ahh, looks like Haruto needs a new diaper.”

Immediately, Yuta leaned in. “Want me to...?”
But Haruka shook her head, hoisting the bag onto her shoulder.
“No, I've already got him. I won't be long.” They smiled at each other,
and in a swift, subtle movement, Haruka kissed Yuta's cheek before
walking off. While Yuta watched Haurka leave, Majima watched
Yuta's face. There was a real twinkle in his eye that even a blind man
would notice.
“So.” Majima's voice made Yuta jump, and the one-eyed patriarch
took a seat, leisurely. “You doin' right by our princess? Huh?”
“A-ah. Yes, sir.” Yuta remained standing. “I'm trying to, anyway.
We weren't exactly... together... when we um...” Yuta's cheeks
flushed, which tricked Majima into a smile. Just a little one. “We're
Haruto's parents. Anything after that is secondary.”

439

“Oy oy.” Majima rolled his wrist in the air, bored. “You kiddin' me?
So you two are raisin' a lil kid together but you ain't even callin'
yerself her boyfriend? What kinda man does that?”

Rather than shy away, Yuta furrowed his brow, and Majima could
tell that his heels were dug in. “I'm not going to force Haruka-chan
into a relationship she doesn't want,” he said sternly. “She's the
mother of my child. If that's all she wants to be, then I'll respect
that.”

“Mm...?” Majima lolled his head to the sided. “Don'tchya love
her, kid?”

Finally, Yuta's face softened. “Of course I do.”
“Marry her if you could?”
“...Yes. In a heartbeat.”
Majima's smile returned just as the mourners began to fill in the
seats behind them. “No wonder she picked you...” he mumbled.
“Sir...?”
Majima stood, fixing his front button. “Well, guess it's about
time.” A small group of unfamiliar men approached Yuta. Their lack of
Tojo pins gave Majima the impression that they were the kid's old
family. Leaving them to talk, Majima crossed the aisle and took his
seat next to Saejima. His kyodai, ever the silent observer, was staring
at Yuta and his Hiroshima brethren.
“So that's Kiryu-han's daughter's...?”
“Yeah.”

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“Mm.” Saejima gave Yuta one more look before leaning back in
his seat, arms folded. “He's too skinny.”

The memorial began quietly. First, Yayoi spoke about Kiryu's years
of service to the Tojo clan. Next, a few of Kiryu's old captains took the
podium to praise Kiryu's bravery, and recant the legends of the
Dragon of Dojima. Haruka took her stage soon after, thanking
everyone for attending her father's memorial. As the eulogists went
up, one by one, Majima couldn't help but read the room. It was just
about standing room only. For every seat that was filled, three more
men would linger by the walls, standing quietly to pay their respects.
Eventually, Daigo took his place at the podium.

He started with the day he and Kiryu met. Talked about how Kiryu
instilled in him a new found self respect. A purpose. Majima knew
the story only too well. He remembered with Daigo was nothing
more than a lost punk, driven by personal, petty revenge. He
watched Kiryu take that no nothing kid and turn him into the man
Majima saw that day. The respectable, earnest Sixth Chairman of the
Tojo.

“...and while we remember his accomplishments,” Daigo went on,
“I urge you to do so with fondness, honor, and love. In his last letter
to me, he confessed that he had always thought of me as a son,
though he felt the title was unearned. Of my many regrets in my life,
never once have I regretted considering him my father.” Daigo
shuffled his speech cards, and after a moment, tucked them into his

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breast pocket. “Our final speaker today was Kiryu-san's closest friend.
Majima-san?”

Majima didn't get up immediately. The note cards in his front
pocket felt like they weighed a hundred pounds a piece. But
eventually, Saejima put his shovel hand on Majima's shoulder, urging
him to stand. Majima did so, and Daigo stepped aside for Majima to
take the stand. Majima watched Daigo return to his seat as he pulled
out his cards.

“I... ain't much for speech writtin',” he confessed. He stared at the
chicken scratch on his cards. Despite the jokes, Majima hadn't spent
an hour or two slapping his eulogy together. From the moment Daigo
asked if he would like to talk at Kiryu's funeral, Majima was racked
with nerves. For days on end, he agonized over what he should say.
His and Kiryu's relationship hadn't exactly been public knowledge,
though the right people knew about it, certainly. Majima shuffled his
cards, realizing that he'd stacked them out of order. Finally finding
the first one, Majima cleared his throat.

“Kiryu-chan...” he began awkwardly. “What... what can be said
about Kiryu-chan? The Dragon of Dojima was one of the greatest...”
His words fell short, and he glanced up to his right. Haruka watched,
with Haruto gently nestled against his mother's breast. Majima's lips
parted, and he returned to his cards. With a deep sigh, he shoved
them back into his pocket.

“Naw. None of that feels right, does it?” He laid his hands on the
podium and stared out into the crowd. “It feels a lil strange, us bein'

442

here. Mourning him. I remember a time when Kiryu Kazuma was
number one on the Tojo Clan's shit list. Most of you remember that,
too. Hell, I'd say a good ninety percent of us remember Kiryu from
the number of teeth he knocked out our mouths over the years.” The
audience chuckled, faintly. “There wasn't nobody, past or present,
who could fight like him. Nobody.” He turned to Daigo. “He made us
who we are. No matter how many times he tried to leave the Tojo
behind, he would always get pulled right back in to try and mop up
our own messes.

“But that's who he was. Didn't matter what you'd done. Who
you'd hurt. If you was willing to change, if you had any rays of
sunlight in you, Kiryu could find it. He'd find it, and he'd pull it out, till
you were cryin' from the brightness. That's why... I ain't up here to
talk about what he'd done for the family. For the Tojo. Those of us
who knew Kiryu-chan know that that's not how he'd wanna be
remembered. As some big, hulkin' monster workin' for Dojima, and
later for so many others. That's not how I remember him. That's not
how his daughter remembers him. Or his friends. Kiryu Kazuma was a
father. He was a confidant.” Majima closed his eye firmly. “And... he
wasn't my friend. He was my lover.”

The crowd shifted and whispered. When Majima opened his eye
again, only a handful of faces didn't seem shocked. As for the rest of
the family, Majima might as well have told them he'd planted a bomb
on the grounds. Majima pushed forward, despite the scattered
responses. “I don't give two shits what anybody thinks about that.

443

For the record. I showed up this morinin' fully intending to play the
game we always did when it came to the rest a'you fucks. Pretending
like we was nothing but friendly rivals. But I lost him way before
those Yomei bastards capped his ass. There are some people who are
meant to walk in the light. Kiryu Kazuma was one of them people.
One of the few I ever met. But even when we had to walk away from
each other... Damned if I still didn't love him with everything I had in
me. And if I'd come up here today to pretend like I was just another
yakuza to him... it'd be a dishonor to who he was. And to what we
had. So...” Majima shifted, and with no grand exit planned, stepped
away from the podium, walked down the aisle, and left. Fortunately,
the crowd parted, letting him leave the main house easily. He didn't
have the emotional stamina to weather that kind of storm.

He walked through the courtyard and stopped at the main gates.
Fortunately, even with the massive crowd, the court was virtually
empty. Majima stared at his shoes. A glint of sunlight shot off from
his left toe. He could barely make out his own reflection in them. As
he stared, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and thumped one into
his lips. He lit the end, still gazing into the warped image of his steel
toes. Despite his lit cigarette, he didn't actively smoke it, and instead
let the tip burn unhindered. And then, out of nowhere, his vision
went blurry.

“Ah...” Majima let out a small grunt of surprise, and blinked into a
pool of tears. They fell from his face, crashing onto his snakeskin
boots like rain. He slid his cigarette in between his knuckles before his

444

shaking lips sent it to the floor. The floodgates opened. Majima
wobbled where he stood, and eventually found himself leaning
against the open door of the front gate. His shoulders hunched,
Majima sobbed quietly into his hand. Every aching minute that
passed between then and when he received Yayoi's letter came
crashing down onto his heart. His world was overwhelmed by grief,
and he finally, after weeks, let it consume him. He dug the palm of
his hand into his eye, the smoke now forgotten in his fingers.

“Fuck...” he choked out. Frustrated, he slammed the side of his
fist into the door. “Fuckin'... goddamn...” He slid down to balance on
the balls of his feet, curled into a lump on the ground. He was angry.
And sad. And confused. And helpless. He'd never felt so powerless in
years. Not since he was chained up in that god forsaken hole for two
years. And even then, he didn't think it properly compared. Because
he was imperfect. Majima Goro was a man with flaws, with faults. He
wasn't Kiryu. Kiryu was too good to die. Too strong. So why? Why?
“Why did you leave me... Kiryu...?”

“Is... this a bad time?”
Majima's head snapped up. Through his tears, he saw a man in a
trench coat with a bundle of flowers in one arm. It took Majima a
moment, but as he stood and wiped his face, a name came to mind.
“You're... Date... aren't you?”
Date smiled with a nod. “Yeah. I know who you are, of course.
Even if I wasn't Kiryu-san's friend, I've seen you booked at least three
times now.” He gestured to the lilies in his arms. “Erm... I know this is

445

strictly a yakuza memorial, but I figured you wouldn't mind if I swung
by.”

Majima sniffed and vigorously wiped his eye. “Yeah...” He looked
up to the Tojo building. There were some mourners starting to spill
out into the courtyard, but most were still inside. “Actually... You
drive here, Date-san?”

“Yeah?” Date said.
Majima nodded. “I'm dyin' for a drink. You mind?”
Date shook his head. “Not at all. Here. I'm parked down the
street.”

◈◈◈
“You sure I can't get you anything else, Makoto?”
“No. We'll be fine, thanks honey.” Mariko, the bar Mama for New
Serena, smiled at the pair of them before heading out. She'd been on
her way to do some shopping when Date asked if they could swing
by. Truth be told, Majima was thankful that they'd have the place to
themselves.
“Is that really your first name?” Majima asked.
“Hm?” Date looked over his whiskey, curiously. “Yeah. Why?”
“...nothin'.” Majima took a deep drink of his liquor. The last thing
he wanted to focus on right then was the idea of confiding in another
Makoto. He had enough emotional garbage on his plate as it was. “So
you married the bar Mama, huh?”
Date chuckled. “Yeah. It was love at first sight. I was pretty
useless until I finally managed to confess.”

446

“Heh. Sounds about right.” They sat in silence a moment,
enjoying their drinks. “Don't feel bad about missin' Kiryu-chan's
memorial,” Majima said suddenly. “You ain't missin' much. Buncha
fuckheads talkin' about him like they knew the guy.”

“Didn't they?”
Majima scoffed into his glass. “They knew the Dragon of Dojima.
They knew his reputation. They probably knew the bottom of his
shoes, to be honest. But they didn't know him.” Majima furrowed his
brow. “They didn't know us...”
“Ahh.” Date nodded, understanding. “So you laid it all out then,
huh?” Majima looked up, and Date smirked. “What? You think he
never told me? We've been drinking buddies for decades. All it took
was a couple shots of tequila and you were all he talked about.”
“Me...?”
“Yeah,” said Date. “Either you or Haruka-chan. He was a simple
man, Kiryu-san was.” He took another sip of his whiskey. Majima
stared into his own glass, seeing the dim reflection in the amber
liquid. “He loved you a lot, you know.”
Slowly, Majima nodded. “Yeah... I do.” Those tears threatened to
spill again, but Majima kept them at bay. In order to fight them off,
he focused on his rage. Because he hadn't spent the last few weeks
just being sad. Oh no. From the moment Majima learned who it was
who put that bullet in Kiryu, Majima was driven by two things: grief,
and anger. Now, with a little liquor in his system, and away from the

447

Tojo, Majima let himself dwell on that fury. “Daigo-chan wants us to
stay outta Hiroshima,” he said.

Date nodded. “No doubt that's what Kiryu wanted.”
“Yeah. The pious fucker.” Majima tug a big swig and slammed the
glass back down. “Meanwhile, those Yomei assholes are walkin'
around, cock of the block. Cause they can lay claim to killin' a livin'
yakuza legend. Even though it wasn't even Kiryu that asshole was
trying to kill, the way I hear it. He was aiming for Haruka-chan, and...
well, you figure out the rest.”
Date nodded. “Yeah...” His eyes drifted off to his drink, but
Majima barely noticed.
“Those small town fuckers are too big for their goddamn
britches,” Majima growled. “I bet they're already talkin' shit about
Kiryu-chan. Makin' up what happened to suit themselves. Like the
bastard that pulled the trigger didn't immediately off himself cause
he was too chicken shit to own up to his actions.” Date had nothing
to say, so Majima finished his drink. “And now, Daigo-chan is orderin'
us to stay home. Fuck that.”
“Majima-san,” Date warned. “You understand that as an officer of
the law, anything you say in front of me will be held accountable.”
“Who gives a shit?” Majima shoved himself from the bar and
paced, running his hands through his hair. “Who gives a shit what
happens to me? I certainly don't.”
“What about your men?” Date asked. “You're a patriarch. You
have a family.”

448

“Then they'll get a new patriarch. Or fuck, they'll probably split
into their own families. They're big enough.” Majima was starting to
pace faster. “Fuck it. Fuck it all. Families. Patriarchs. The Tojo. It's all
bullshit. We're nothing without Kiryu-chan, and everybody knows it.
That's why they were all here today. Not cause they loved him. Not
cause they admired him. Cause they know that without him, we're
up shit creek without a paddle. Ain't nobody who can live up to Kiryu-
chan. And all the while, those back-woods, inbred, Hiroshima hicks
get to laugh it up cause they get the kill. Who are they to claim Kiryu-
chan's, life, huh? Who the fuck do they think they are!?”

“Majima-san.” Date held up his hand. “The man who shot Kiryu-
san is dead. Their captain is in prison.”

“Yeah!? So!?” Majima was fuming by now, practically spinning in
circles. “You sound just like Daigo-chan. 'We need to respect Kiryu-
san's wishes.' Respect his wishes?! If Kiryu-chan had his way, he
woulda laid his life down years ago for some other fucker who don't
deserve that sacrifice! And we're supposed to just sit here and let
'em get away with it!”

Finally, Date stood from his stool in an attempt to calm Majima
down. “Listen to what you're implying. You know that if you go to the
Yomei, it'll bring war.”

“Well maybe I wanna bring it!” Majima thundered. “Ain't Kiryu-
chan worth the fuckin' bloodshed!? Huh?! If he isn't, then who is!?”

449

“Are you telling me you intend to cause that bloodshed?” Date
said pointedly. Majima saw him start to reach for his cuffs. “Because
if you are, Majima-san, it's my duty to stop you.”

But Majima was not in the mood for games. “You'd better know
who the fuck you're dealin' with, Mr. Detective.” Still, Date didn't look
like he was about to back down. Majima didn't have time for this. So,
he turned on his heel and went for the door. Immediately, Date
stepped in front of him. Majima stepped to the left. Date shifted to
his right. When Majima stepped right, Date went left. “I'm givin' you
three seconds,” Majima warned. “Three seconds before I rip that
tongue out through yer teeth.”

“I can't let you start a war over Kiryu-san,” Date said. “How would
he feel if he knew?!”

Wrong question to ask.
WHAM! Majima slammed his fist directly into Date's face,
sending him spinning like a top. Date tried recovering quickly, but
Majima was too furious to give him an inch. With a knee to the gut,
Date was down on the floor, knocking over the stools as he went. He
braced himself against the foot bar, his lip split and bloody from the
sucker punch.
“Stop!” he begged. “You don't know what you're doing!” Majima
knelt down, pinning Date to the bar. His free hand rifled through
Date's belt. Date tried kicking him off, but Majima found what he was
looking for. Date's revolver. Date's eyes widened as Majima held up

450