Love of a Lifetime

Maybe it was just the jet lag. Majima bit into his rice, sighing through
his nose in frustration. Ok... so the usual methods of trying to hunt
down Kiryu were of no use to him here. He leaned back against his
bench, thinking it over.

“Maybe I can lure him out...?” Kiryu always seemed to show up
whenever there was trouble. But then again, there was no guarantee
he'd show up if Majima started beating on pedestrians. Besides, if
the authorities caught wind of it, he'd be in deep shit. Frustrated, he
rubbed his temples. “Think, motherfucker. Think. How... how do I
find Kiryu Kazuma...?”

“I'm sorry I'm late.”
Majima's eye widened. No fuckin' way. Moving slowly, he looked
up just over the brim of his sunglasses. That voice... There was only
one man in the world who had that voice. And currently, he was
standing in front of a cafe, wearing some casual slacks and a gray,
button down shirt. Majima only saw the back of him, which was likely
for the best. But there was no mistaking those shoulders. That gait.
His stance. His arms. Majima knew that body inch by inch. Learned it,
loved it, for so many years. Kiryu Kazuma, alive and well, was
standing across the street.
An older man, somewhere in his eighties, smiled through a bushy
mustache. He was round and small, with liver spots on his balding
head. “Ah! Suzuki-san! No worries, no worries! Go ahead and start
your shift.”

501

“Yes, sir.” Kiryu stepped through the front door of the cafe and
walked into the back room. Majima stared, slack jawed in awe. If this
was God's idea of a joke, Majima wasn't laughing. He sat, rooted to
his bench, the rice ball limp in his hands. There was Kiryu. Mission
accomplished. If he wanted, Majima could jump up, run inside, and
start giving Kiryu a piece of his mind.

But he didn't.
He stayed where he was for another hour. Battling with himself.
Arguing to stand up, walk over, and demand some answers. He
watched as Kiryu molded into his new place in society. A cafe waiter.
He wore a small apron around his hips, and served parfaits and lattes
with a smile. Totally oblivious as some of the more adventurous
young ladies tried batting their eyelashes in his direction. If Majima
hadn't known who he was, he never would have guessed Kiryu's past.
All the pain, all the suffering. All the ways in which Kiryu's chosen life
came back to blow up in his face. All of it... lead to this. This peaceful
moment in time, where Kiryu, unfettered by the weights of his past,
was able to live, and breathe, and work in serenity.
As the park clock tolled 2pm, Majima finally rose from his seat.
Currently, Kiryu was sweeping. So far, if he had noticed Majima, he
hadn't said a word. Majima lingered. He ached to move forward. To
close that gap between them in earnest.
Instead, Majima turned, hands in his pockets, and walked off
deeper into the park.

502

Chapter 4: lost in Kyoto

Kiryu's days were simple. He'd wake up at seven. Have a quick
breakfast of eggs and toast. Maybe some coffee. Sometimes, he'd go
running on the days he'd have off. Keeping himself physically well
was becoming a bigger priority for him, especially now that he was
getting up there. On the days he had work, Kiryu would dress soon
after breakfast. A pair of slacks, a dark shirt, and his apron, packed
away in a bag, slung on his back. He'd started this job by bringing
bentos from the local convenience store, but after a few shifts, the
owner began insisting that he help himself to a sandwich for lunch
instead. Something fresh, and probably healthier for him. When his
shift was over, Kiryu would often take a stroll along the streets of
Kyoto. So much of the city felt dreamlike to him. As if the Fourth
Chairman of the Tojo Clan never existed. He was, instead, a ghost of a
memory. Fading from Kiryu's world with each passing day.

But there were certain things, Kiryu knew, that he could never
erase.

Haruka. His kids. His friends. The people who brought him love
and comfort in times of harrowing despair. There were some days
that he would let his mind wander into his memories, reliving the
better moments of his life. His early days with Nishiki and Yumi.
Haruka's childhood in Okinawa. All the strange, odd situations that
seemed to fall into his lap day after day. People needing a savior. Or a
friend. An ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on. Kiryu had listened to

503

Kamurocho. And Kamurocho never failed to entertain, delight, or
horrify. And then... there was Majima.

That morning, Kiryu awoke long before his alarm. He laid in bed,
staring at the ceiling. He'd dreamed about Majima last night. It was
some kind of mishmash of all their fights together. That piercing
cackle, that bright, devilish twinkle in his black eye.

Kiryu remembered the day they met. It took him years to even
begin to get a read on the Mad Dog of Shimano. Even when they
confessed their feelings, it was still nearly impossible to have him
totally figured out. Kiryu rubbed his eyes, rolling over his futon until
he was sitting upright. The light broke from his curtains, warming his
back in the sun. He looked up at the small coffee table, which was
the only other piece of furniture in his one room studio. On it were a
few things. A newspaper, his charging phone. And a framed picture.
His favorite picture. Smiling, he held it in his hand. The kids of
Morning Glory smiled back at him.

Kiryu hesitated. With nimble fingers, he turned the photo around
and undid the latches, before prying off the back. A second photo sat
inside. Hidden away. Kiryu pulled it out and laid the frame on the
table. He smiled, ruefully, at what he held in his hands. It was a Pic
Circle photo strip, taken years ago. In it were four pictures of himself
and Majima Goro. Back when Kiryu got out of prison the first time,
Majima had it in his head that he needed to keep a watchful eye over
Kiryu at all times. This included popping out of trashcans, out of
abandoned cars, and so on. Kiryu even remembered him hiding

504

under a massive traffic cone once. He was always such a strange
guy...

The photos told a story. In the first, Majima was nearly pulling
Kiryu into the center frame. His mouth was open, no doubt trying to
convince Kiryu to stay. In the second photo, Kiryu relented, and the
two posed with finger guns, framed in a photo-shopped “wanted”
poster. And in the third and final picture, Majima had convinced Kiryu
to make half a heart with his hands, with Majima making the other
half with his own.

Did Majima love him then? He must have. They talked about it
once, out of Kiryu's curiosity. Apparently, he'd had feelings for him
since before the death of Patriarch Dojima. Kiryu couldn't imagine
why. But Majima had assured him this was the case. He remembered
one of their first dates. A trip to the batting cages turned nearly
deadly rivalry over who hit the most home runs. Kiryu had won on a
technicality; Majima hit one too many fouls. After that, they grabbed
dinner, and talked. They talked for hours. Sometimes about nothing,
sometimes about everything. Kiryu had never had a longer
conversation in his life. And yet, he didn't realize the passing hours
until he forced himself to check the clock. Time seemed to work
differently around Majima. When they were together, Kiryu's world
was lighter. Brighter. More exciting. He ran his thumb over Majima's
smiling face.

I wish I could have been the man you needed...

505

Kiryu closed the frame and set the photo aside. Taking his Pic
Circle strip, he wedged it into the corner of the frame, letting it stick
out at an odd angle. It was perfect. Getting up, Kiryu decided to take
a shower before fixing himself some food. After breakfast, he got his
work bag ready and headed out for his shift at the cafe. Ever since
moving to Kyoto, every day had near perfect weather, making his
walks to work all the more enjoyable. And even when the rainy
season did roll around, Kiryu lived so close that he could get away
with just carrying an umbrella. Reaching the main road, Kiryu smiled
and waved to a few local shop keepers that he'd come to know over
the last few weeks. He wandered down the slope of the cobblestone
footpaths, glancing up at the trees that hung overhead. He couldn't
wait to see the cherry blossoms in spring. From everything he'd
heard, they were especially exquisite in Kyoto.

Turning the corner, the first person he saw was his coworker,
Chinin Kimi. She was a girl about Haruka's age, with short cropped
hair died an auburn brown. Kimi liked to hum or sing whenever she
was busy doing something with her hands. Today, she had hot pink
nail polish, freshly done, and a cute kitty pin on her lapel. She looked
up to see Kiryu approach and flashed a bright, warm smile.

“Suzuki-kun!” She waved in greeting. “Good morning!”
“Good morning, Kimi-chan.”
“Thanks for covering me on such late notice the other day. I'm
sorry I asked you so randomly out of the blue!”
“It's all right,” said Kiryu. “I'm always happy to help.”

506

“Aahhh.” Kimi leaned on her broom with a smile. “You're too
sweet, Suzuki-kun.” With one last smile, Kiryu walked through the
front door and immediately spotted his aging boss. Suto Masayoshi
was a humble man. After his three children grew up and left home
for their careers, he retired from his factory job and bought a little
cafe for himself. When Kiryu arrived, handing out resumes, Suto hired
him on the spot. Kiryu would always be grateful for men like him.

“Good morning, Suto-san,” Kiryu greeted, clocking in on the wall.
“Ah, Suzuki-san.” Suto flashed a wrinkly smile, currently counting
the money in the till. “Good morning. Yesterday was so busy, wasn't
it?”
“Was it?”
“I'll say it was. Our tip jar was overflowing! Ah, speaking of.” Suto
dug out a small envelope and handed it to Kiryu. “Your tips for last
week.”
Kiryu took the envelope and looked over its contents. “Thank
you, sir.”
“Don't thank me. You earned those!”
“Yes, sir.”
Suto shook his head. “Always so formal...”
Kiryu wrapped the apron around his waist, tying it off tight
behind him. “Sorry,” he said, “it's just a habit.”
“Oh, I don't mind it,” Suto clarified. “I wish more young people
were polite, to be honest.”
Kiryu smiled. “I'm 52, Suto-san.”

507

“Suzuki-kun, Suzuki-kun!” Kiryu turned as Kimi rushed in, holding
her phone up, frantically. “She texted me back!”

“Ooh?” Kiryu took a look at Kimi's chat log. On the screen were a
few tentative texts between Kimi and a girl named Aiko, who had
been a regular customer for some time now. And one that Kimi made
very clear that she was hopelessly in love with. The two had recently
bumped into each other at the grocery store and decided to
exchange numbers. For the past week, Kiryu had encouraged Kimi to
ask this Aiko girl out. And, according to the text log, that was just
what Kimi had done.

“I can't read it!” Kimi exclaimed. “Just tell me what it says!”
Kiryu took the phone and looked it over. “Mmmm.” He furrowed
his heavy brow, making Kimi clutch her heart in worry. “She wants to
know...” Kiryu flipped the phone around, revealing the answer to Kimi
herself. “...if you like tempura.”
“She does?!” Kimi snatched the phone and read and reread the
message. Her face lit up like a firework. “She... She wants to go to
dinner!”
“She does,” Kiryu agreed.
“Tempura... tempura...” Kimi paced, clutching the broom to her
cheek. “What place has good tempura...”
Suto leaned forward on the counter. “You should try out Goya-
san's place down the street. She has wonderful shrimp tempura.”

508

“Oh yeah!” Kimi quickly responded to the text and then shoved
her phone into her pocket. “Ahhhh! I can't believe she's willing to go
on a date with me! I feel like I'm dreaming...”

“Congratulations,” Kiryu said sweetly. “You've earned the date.
You'll have to tell me everything that happens.”

“Of course!” Kimi turned and took Kiryu's hands. “Thank you so
much for encouraging me, Suzuki-san. I don't think I would have had
the stomach to ask her out without you.”

“I don't think so,” Kiryu said lightly. “You would have gotten
around to it eventually.”

“No! I'm totally shy around Aiko-chan!” Kimi sighed, putting her
hands to her cheeks. “I'm useless when it comes to asking girls out.
It's like I get all wobbly and I can barely talk.”

“That's love,” Suto said kindly. “When I met my wife, I was totally
paralyzed with fear. Here was this beautiful woman... Smart, kind,
perfect... And what was I? Just some pencil pusher from the private
sector. Not even an impressive one.”

“That's not true!” Kimi defended. “You must have really been
something special for Rika-san to fall in love with you.”

“I suppose.”
Kimi then turned to Kiryu, gently cradling the broom like a bundle
of flowers. “Suzuki-kun?” she asked. “Have you ever been in love?”
Kiryu, who had already started wiping down some of the tables,
looked up from his work. “Me?” Immediately, his mind went to
Majima. “Yes... A couple of times.”

509

“Who, who?” Kimi edged closer, watching Kiryu with eager eyes.
“How many times?”

“Mmm... I guess twice.”
“Only twice? Who were they?”
“The first was the mother of my daughter,” Kiryu said. “We grew
up together. She passed away, so I lived my life for Haruka in her
place.”
“Ooh, Suzuki-san.” Suto put a hand to his heart. “I am so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago,” Kiryu explained.
“And the second?” asked Kimi.
“The second...” Kiryu hesitated. “The second was... is... someone
very important to me.”
“Did you move here with them?”
“No. We... ended things. A while ago.”
“Why?”
“Our worlds had just grown apart. There were too many
important things that had to come before our relationship. In the
end, we drifted away from each other.”
Kimi and Suto glanced at each other. Suto finished his count and
closed the cash register before speaking. “I see,” he said.
“Sometimes, life can be cruel that way. Though it sounds like you still
love this person...?”
Kiryu smiled sadly, and went back to wiping down the table. “I
do,” he explained. “I don't think I'll ever stop loving him... if I'm being
honest.”

510

Kimi let out a soft whine and leaned in, hugging Kiryu's arm tight.
“Suzuki-kun!” she simpered. “No fair. You're making me so sad after I
was so happy just a minute ago!”

“Sorry about that.”
The door jingled, and the three of them looked up. A young
woman walked in, her five year old son in tow. The three employees
bowed, welcoming their first customers of the day. After that, work
began. Kiryu's job was waiting tables, of course, but every so often,
he was needed in the kitchens to help with the food.
The cafe itself was a simple one. Coffee, tea, lattes, sandwiches
and cakes. The décor was like that of a small library, with soft, toffee
browns and tiny shelves of books, free to read for customers.
Although the space was small, it never felt cloistered. Kiryu, despite
his size, managed to find ways to maneuver around the tables and
people all while keeping anything he had in his hands from spilling.
About half way through his shift, Kiryu went on his lunch break. Suto
had made him a tuna salad sandwich, and Kiryu helped himself to an
iced latte that Kimi had made incorrectly about half an hour earlier.
Taking his lunch to the sidewalk tables, he sat down and settled in
for a well deserved break. Before eating, however, he paused. That
old instinct had reared its head, and Kiryu scanned the area. He liked
taking lunches and breaks on the sidewalk because of the view of the
local park. Lately, he'd been getting the strangest feeling that he was
being watched. And yet, every time he looked, he saw nothing.

511

Figuring it must have just been his paranoia, Kiryu returned to his
lunch and checked his phone while he ate. Of course, if he had
looked just a little more to the left, he might have noticed the not at
all obvious man in dark clothes, peeking out from behind a hedge in
sunglasses and a baseball cap.

Ten days. That's how long Majima had lingered at that park,
staring at Kiryu from across the street. Ten freakin' days. And every
time he saw the big lug milling about the sidewalk or through the
cafe windows, Majima hyped himself up. Today's the day, he told
himself. Now march over there and do it. These thoughts were
immediately followed by the dread of having to do just that, and so,
Majima let his fear ground him to where he was, instead focusing on
Kiryu from afar.

Not only was he afraid of what Kiryu might say or do if he saw
him, but to be totally honest, Majima was torn. Kiryu looked so
happy in his little sidewalk café. Serving drinks, taking orders, joking
and laughing with customers. No matter how much Majima wanted
to just waltz on over and ignore it, that little, doubtful voice in his
head begged the question: would shattering this happiness be fair to
Kiryu? Hadn't he earned this rest, after everything he'd been
through?

Majima smoked a fresh cigarette, staring at the ground. He was
going through a pack a day at this rate. The fact that he hadn't keeled
over with lung cancer was a miracle in and of itself. Majima, leg
bouncing, looked back over the hedge. Kiryu was engrossed in his

512

phone. So much so that as he took a bite of his sandwich, he didn't
notice a giant chunk of tuna fall onto his shirt. Majima couldn't help
but smile at the sight. The dumbass nerd. He'd probably go all day
with that tuna stain until somebody pointed it out. Once, he'd walked
through the whole of Tojo HQ with toilet paper on the back of his
heel. Majima almost didn't want to point it out to him. It was too
funny to watch.

He rubbed his tired eye. It wasn't that the hotel he was staying at
wasn't nice. It was lovely. But that was the thing. Everything around
Majima was lovely. From the trees to the architecture. It was all just
too damn perfect here. Maybe that's why Kiryu looked like he fit in so
well, and why Majima had never felt more out of place. Every night,
before going to bed, Majima wondered if he should just book a flight
home and be done with it. Let Kiryu Kazuma have his rest. Before
closing his eye, he convinced himself that he was doing it for
Haruka's sake. That he'd promised her he'd bring Kiryu back, and
he'd be damned if he wasn't a man of his word. But as the turbulent
throws sleep overtook him, Majima knew the truth.

This was a selfish venture.
Majima looked back up, only to see that Kiryu was no longer
sitting at his table. In fact, his sandwich was left, half eaten, as he
wandered away from the cafe entirely. Majima stood, tossing his
smoke to the ground and stomping it. Where was he off to...?
Majima dug his hands into his pockets and followed, making sure to
keep his distance. Kiryu seemed to be on his phone, texting someone

513

as he walked. His footsteps were automatic. Like he knew exactly
where he was off to.

Majima hadn't spent much time wandering Kyoto, and so could
only guess where he was headed. Past narrow shop doors and
winding footpaths, up stairways and around bends, after the first half
hour of walking, Majima was almost certain that Kiryu knew precisely
what he was doing. Yet on the off chance that this was all just some
sort of weird, spur of the moment lunch walk, Majima didn't call out.

Eventually, they came to a wide river bank, and Kiryu walked all
the way to the edge of the water. Majima lingered by the row of
residential homes, deciding he'd rather watch from afar. There was
too much open space to risk approaching Kiryu in broad daylight. At
least, that's what he told himself.

That's when Majima's phone buzzed. He blinked and removed it
from his pocket. The number was one he didn't recognize. Majima
looked up to Kiryu. He was standing with one hand in his pocket, the
other holding his phone to his ear. Still, he remained facing the water.
With a trembling hand, Majima answered. He said nothing as he held
it to his ear.

“Were you ever going to say anything, Majima-no-niisan?”
Majima felt his heart leap into his throat. His voice... hearing his
voice say his name... “When did you realize I was here?”
“I've been suspicious for the last couple of days. Baba-chan
confirmed it for me.”
Damn it, Baba... “Is that right?”

514

“How long have you known?”
Majima sat on the ground in the alley, staring at the back of
Kiryu's head. He hadn't moved a muscle the entire time. “Not long,”
Majima admitted. “A couple of weeks.”
“Who told you?”
“Your detective friend.”
Kiryu sighed on the other line. “I guess this was inevitable.”
Majima leaned against the building he was hiding besides, his eye
unable to rip itself from Kiryu's profile. “Why...? Why did you do
this...?”
“It was never going to end otherwise. Haruka would always be in
danger. Haruto wouldn't grow up safe.”
Majima struggled with a wave of anger, and he gripped his hair.
“But... dying... Goddamn it...”
“I won't ask you to understand,” Kiryu interrupted. “But I need
you to respect my decision.”
“Respect it?” Majima breathed. “You expect me to walk around,
knowing the truth, and pretend like you're gone from the world?” He
laughed, bitterly. “Well it's too late for that, buddy. I already spilled
the beans.”
Kiryu didn't answer for a moment. “You what?”
“Your girl knows, goddamn it. She deserves that much. The fact
that you put her through all of this just cause you got some grand
sense of self righteousness—!”

515

“That's enough, Majima-san. You're going to tell her you were
wrong. If she's ever going to stay safe, I need to stay dead.”

“You fuckin'...” Majima pounded his knuckles into the dirt. “How
dare you ask me to do that? Boy you sure got a lot of fuckin' nerve, I
tell you what, buddy...”

“I'm ending this conversation.”
“Kiryu-chan—!” But Kiryu had already ended the call. Majima
watched, helplessly, as Kiryu walked down the stretch of the river.
Leaving Majima, leaving his past, to dangle in the wind.

◈◈◈
“Thank you for your hard work today,” said Suto-san. “I'm sorry
we had to stay open later, but we had such a good day today.
“Whew!” Kimi cracked her back, arching it dramatically. “That
lunch rush was absolutely insane! I think I lost like 20lbs just running
back and forth!” She turned to Kiryu. “Fortunately, we had Suzuki-
kun to back us up! You were on fire today.”
“Thanks,” said Kiryu.
The three of them walked out to the sidewalk, and Suto locked
the door behind them. “Something up, Suzuki-san? You seem like you
had something on your mind all day.”
“Did I?” Kiryu asked. “It's nothing...”
“Doesn't seem like nothing,” Kimi interjected. “Why don't we all
go for drinks and you can get it off your chest?”

516

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Suto agreed. “It's a little early, so
most of the bars will be nice and quiet. I'll ask Rika if she'd like to
come.”

“You guys don't have to take me out,” Kiryu protested.
“But we want to!” said Kimi. “When Suzuki-kun is gloomy, the
whole world is gloomy! Come on, I'll buy you your first beer.”
“Kiiiryu-chaaan!”
That sharp voice cut through the air like a hot knife through
butter. Kiryu went stiff the minute he heard that cracking octave.
Slowly, he, Suto and Kimi turned to see none other than Majima Goro
standing in the center of the street. He swayed, having clearly been
losing himself in drink for the past few hours. He smiled, manically,
his hands held behind his back. “Are you goin' fer driiiinks, Kiryu-
chan? Why not take yer old pal Majima with you, eh?”
Kimi blinked. “Suzuki-kun? Why's he calling you 'Kiryu-chan'?”
Kiryu glared at Majima. “He's clearly a drunk who confused me
for someone else.”
“Nyahaha!” Majima's cackle made Kiryu's skin crawl. “So cruel to
me, you are! So, so cruel!”
“Should I call the police?” Suto suggested. But Kiryu held his hand
up. That was the last thing he needed. Unfortunately, when Majima
pulled out his tanto from behind his back, the police started looking
like a real attractive option. Suto went for his phone, but Kiryu
stopped him. “Suzuki-san—!”
“Please, let me handle this,” Kiryu said.

517

Majima walked, criss-crossing his legs with every step. Despite his
clear intoxication, he twirled his knife between his gloved fingers
with frightening precision. Kiryu took a step forward, blocking his
coworkers from Majima's line of sight. Not that they were who he
was after, anyway.

“You reeeeally got it all figured out, dontchya...?” Majima said in
a sing-song voice. “Abandon me. Abandon yer kids. Abandon
everybody who ever meant somethin' to ya. And you can live in this
cute lil fantasy world till the day you actually fuckin' bite it, eh? Real
nice and cozy for you, Kiryu-chan.”

Kiryu turned to Suto. “Suto-san. Please take Kimi-chan and get
out of here. You'll be safe. I promise.” With that, Suto took Kimi's
shoulders, and the two hurried away. Majima watched them go, a
look of poison in his eye. Kiryu stepped forward. “Majima-san... Turn
around and walk away.”

Majima laughed again, throwing his head back. “That's just so
easy for you to do, isn't it?” He brandished his knife, and in a sudden
twist of rage, he shouted: “Isn't it?!”

“Stop this,” Kiryu demanded. “I'm not Kiryu Kazuma anymore. I'm
not who you need me to be—”

“Cut the SHIT!” Majima screeched. They were now three feet
from each other. Majima, his neck tense and his veins throbbing,
tossed his knife to his opposite hand and held it up to Kiryu's face.
“You can pretend all you want to that this is for the best. That all you
need to do to fix this is run away. Because that's all you've ever done,

518

isn't it? Tojo in shambles? Let Daigo-chan deal with it. Haruka-chan
needs you? Fuck it, she's a big girl. She'll figure it out while you rot in
prison.”

“You're drunk.”
“NO SHIT!” Majima swiped the air, his face suddenly red with
anger. “And you—and you! You, sir, are an ASSHOLE pretending to be
a SAINT!”
“I never said I was a—”
“Oh noooo! Here it comes!” Majima threw his hands up in the air
and spun on his heel, as if presenting Kiryu to the world. “'I never
said I was a saint, Majima-san!' 'I've done terrible things, Majima-
san!' Well guess fucking what!?” Majima spun about, his eye wild.
“You're fuckin' YAKUZA, KIRYU-CHAN! Of COURSE you done bad shit!”
“Majima!” Kiryu barked. He walked forward and grabbed
Majima's arm, firmly. “Stop it!”
“You go in and outta everybody's life like it's NOTHIN!” Majima
howled, waving his knife around aimlessly. “All this energy you spend
runnin' from yourself? If you spent HALF that amount actually bein'
who you are, we wouldn't BE in half the shit we're in!”
“If you don't shut the hell up,” Kiryu warned, “I swear I'll—”
“You'll what? You'll WHAT, Kiryu-chan!?” Majima got right into
Kiryu's face, tempting that infamous temper of his. “You gonna hit
me? Huh? Make me shut the fuck up with your goddamn fists!?
Come on, Kiryu-chan. Prove to me that you still got that dragon on
your goddamn back!”

519

Kiryu raised his fist, and for a moment, it hung in the air. Majima
stared at it, ready to take that familiar blow. But instead of launching
it, Kiryu lingered, before dropping his fist, and releasing Majima's
arm. Majima stared in utter disbelief as Kiryu Kazuma pulled away
from a fight. “I'm not who I was. You're just going to have to deal
with it.” With that, he turned and started walking away.

Majima stood, boiling over. “No... don't...” Kiryu didn't stop.
Majima couldn't help it. He saw red. “Don't you walk away from me
YOU SON OF A BITCH!” With all his might, Majima launched a foot
directly into the center of Kiryu's back, sending him flying forward.

He managed to stay on his feet, but only until Majima jumped
onto Kiryu's back, landing him face first into the asphalt. In a fit of
rage, Majima dug his knees into Kiryu's lower back and sunk his knife
into Kiryu's left shoulder. Kiryu cried out, but managed to send an
elbow up to Majima, knocking him clear off. As Kiryu got to his feet,
he pulled the bloody knife from his shoulder and threw it aside.

Fine. If that's what Majima wanted, it was go time.
With a yell from both men, Majima and Kiryu ran at each other,
full force. What followed was a barrage of furious legs and fists.
Majima was a rabid dog, lashing out at Kiryu every chance he got.
Kiryu, on the other hand, only had the room to act on defense. He'd
fought Majima plenty of times before now. But none of it was ever
this wild or frantic. Majima was truly like a wild animal, snapping and
clawing without discretion. There were very few times in a fight that
Kiryu felt like he was out of his depth. Once or twice when he was

520

younger, and once when fighting against Ryuji Goda. None of it
compared to now. Majima was completely unpredictable.

Eventually, Kiryu had given up on throwing punches, and just
focused on trying to grab onto Majima's arms to stop him from
hitting. Even when he did manage to grab hold of those flailing limbs,
it didn't do much good. Majima still managed to get a few decent
knees and kicks in. Kiryu was sure his whole stomach would be
purple by the morning. As the wind was knocked out of him
repeatedly, Kiryu knew that there was going to be only one way to
end this fight.

First, he managed to roll out from underneath Majima. After
getting some distance between them, he noticed that Majima
managed to swipe his discarded knife. That made things a little dicier.
Kiryu looked around and found a potted plant nearby. Grabbing it
from its place on the sidewalk, he slammed it into Majima's head,
disorienting him long enough for Kiryu to grab the knife and chuck it
down the road. By the time Majima stopped seeing stars, Kiryu was
right in front of him. There was no turning back. It was now or never.

Reaching out, Kiryu grabbed Majima by his arms, pulled him in,
and embraced him.

Majima froze. He stared up into the night sky, his hands half way
to fists. Kiryu hugged him long and hard. That hug, somehow, carried
with it the strength of every fight they'd ever had between them. It
melted away Majima's anger. Before long, the Mad Dog of Shimano
was little more than a sobbing mess in Kiryu's arms. They fell to their

521

knees in the middle of the street, Kiryu letting Majima scream into
his shoulder.

“You... you fuckin...!” Majima choked out. “You goddamn
asshole!”

“I'm sorry,” said Kiryu.
“You left me! You left me!”
“I'm so sorry.”
“You left me and all I ever wanted was just to be there! Kiryu—
Kiryu-chan you fuckin' dick!” Majima fell back into unintelligible
hysterics. Kiryu let Majima hold him for as long as he needed. When
Majima was quiet, Kiryu brought them both to their feet. Majima was
limp, and Kiryu did his best to hoist him up in one arm.
“Come on... It's late...” Majima didn't say a word. Curled under
Kiryu's chin, they walked arm in arm until they were out of sight of
the main road.
There was a lot they needed to talk about.

522

Chapter 5: satisfaction

“Here.”
“Whassat?”
“Take it.”
Majima pushed himself to sit, wobbling slightly as he did so, and
stared at what Kiryu put in front of him. A large glass of water and
two pills. Majima rubbed his nose with the back of his wrist, still
pretty sloppy from earlier. He sobbed the entire way to Kiryu's
apartment, after which he flopped onto his futon to contend with a
viscous headache. Majima hated crying mostly for that reason alone.
It was a pain in the ass to deal with after the fact. Kiryu, fortunately,
had kept it together. Forever a rock, that man was. Majima took the
pills and gulped down his tap water. Once the glass was empty, he
laid back down on Kiryu's futon, though his eye remained on the
table. The picture hadn't escaped Majima's attention. He'd been
staring at that Pic Circle strip for the past twenty minutes.
“I can't believe you still have it.”
“Have what?”
“This.”
Kiryu sat down catty-corner to Majima and craned his neck. The
photo strip of a younger them smiled up at him. “Oh.” He almost
forgot he dug those out of hiding. Kiryu thumped out a cigarette and
lit it before offering one to Majima. He took it. “I don't have a lot of
photos,” he explained.

523

“I'll say.” Majima lit his cigarette and stared at the ceiling. “You
don't even have one of your girl. I'm surprised.”

“Hm? Of Haruka?” Kiryu turned back to the photos. “She's right
there.”

Majima blew out a string of smoke. “When she was twelve, sure.
She's a woman now.” He eyed Kiryu through his puffy lids. “Not
healthy to keep thinkin' of her as a kid, you know. Especially now that
she's got a lil spawn of her own.”

Kiryu didn't answer immediately. “I know that.” And that was all
he said on the matter. They sat in silence, lit only by their smokes and
the hanging bulb above the table. Kiryu leaned against the wall
behind him, balancing his elbow on one, elevated knee. “So what do
we do about this?”

“About what?”
“This.” Kiryu glanced over at Majima, who had returned to staring
above him. “You know I can't leave with you.”
“No I fucking don't know that,” Majima snapped. “That's a fuckin'
rule that you're forcing yourself to stick to. Nobody else is playing this
game.”
“'This game' is keeping my family safe,” Kiryu argued.
“According to who?” Majima sat up, pinching his cigarette with
his incisors. “Last I checked, Haruka still announced on live TV that
she was the daughter of the Dragon of fuckin' Dojima. You really
think she's gonna be 100% safe, even with you dead? Even with
Baba-chan watchin' the property like a hawk?”

524

Kiryu glared. “What are you saying?”
“I'm saying that you bein' six feet under don't help nobody. The
only reason you're sticking to your guns is cause you got some
warped fuckin' savior complex.”
“What? No I don't.” Kiryu opened his mouth to argue further, but
was stopped when Majima gave him a look that clearly read: really?
Kiryu shook his head. “Look, I made a deal with the Yomei. I stay
dead, you and Daigo stay out of prison, and Haruka and Haruto live in
peace.”
“You really think that's how it's gonna go?”
“They gave me their word.”
Majima snorted. He laid back down on the futon, hand behind his
head. “You're too old to be that fuckin' naive. Me and Daigo-chan are
gonna stay out of prison regardless. You realize that, right?”
Kiryu straightened up. “What?”
Majima shifted his head, looking at Kiryu over his smoke. “You
ever heard of 'double jeopardy', dumbass? The charges got dropped.
Which means if we're going back in the slammer, it's gonna have to
be over somethin' new. And I promise you Daigo ain't about to let us
be that sloppy a second time around.”
“Oh.” Kiryu fiddled with his filter. “Still... I made a deal.”
“Yeah. A dumb deal.” Silence followed. Majima ashed his
cigarette in the tray on the table and once again sat up. Kiryu had let
his paper burn down to the nub, and quickly put it out before spilling
ash everywhere. “Kiryu-chan.” Kiryu looked up. Slowly, Majima

525

crawled his way over to Kiryu and sat on his lap. Kiryu stared, his face
stoic as ever. Majima wrapped his arms around those big, bulky
shoulders. “Come home. Please. At least come home to your family.
Do you know how much we need you?”

Kiryu let his head roll forward, resting on Majima's chest. Majima
removed his gloves and laced his fingers through Kiryu's hair. Majima
pressed his lips to Kiryu's crown. Kiryu eternally smelled of cheap
soap and cigarettes, with the smallest twinge of blood, forever
lingering on his skin. Rough, manly, untamed. Kiryu's arms looped
around Majima's slender waist, and he pulled him in. Eventually, they
were sitting with their hips locked, as close as they could be. Kiryu
lifted his head, and Majima counted the wrinkles beneath those tired
eyes. “All I've ever wanted is for them to be safe...” he said.

Majima nodded. “I know. I know.” They embraced, and slowly,
their lips found one another after years of deprivation. Their kiss felt
as though it breathed new life into what should have been formless
husks. That old spark that was lost so many years ago fanned into a
flame that, while still tepid, burned brighter and hotter the longer
they stayed together. When the kiss finally did break, neither man
had the will to pull away. Majima buried his face into Kiryu's neck,
and Kiryu laid his wide hand on the back of his scalp. It had been so
long since they'd held each other like this. For now, it was all that
mattered.

When they kissed again, they did so unaware of the open window
above the futon. Nor did they notice a small glint of glass on the

526

opposite side of the street. Or how their sweet embrace was in
perfect view of a pair of binoculars that watched them, diligently. As
they fell to the futon, they slipped from view of their audience, who
lowered his binoculars in response.

The voyeur in question, however, hadn't been watching to get his
rocks off. Draped in dark clothes, he was settled in a space on the
roof of the building opposite to Kiryu's apartment, and had been for
some time. A tiny camping space, complete with snacks, a sleeping
bag and toiletries sat around him. Not to mention an umbrella for
rain and emergency blankets for the colder nights. It had been one
hell of a stakeout.

Once they were out of sight, the man pulled up his phone and
dialed a number. When it was answered, he spoke immediately.
“Kiryu-san has been found,” he reported. “Yes... Majima Goro... Yes,
I'm sure.” He held up his binoculars again, though it was difficult to
see beneath the window sill. “Is there anyone else with a hannya
tattoo and an eye patch who might know Kiryu-san, sir?” He lowered
it and leaned back in his seat. “Just to clarify... Do I need to take any
further precautions?” He waited. “I see. Yes, sir. Yes. Very well, Third
Chairman. It will be done.” When the call finished, he hung up and
checked his watch. It was barely nine at night. He set his alarm for
4am. “A few hours of shuteye should be fine...” After all, they seemed
busy. With his alarm set, the man laid along his sleeping bad with a
satisfied sigh. After tomorrow, his boring stake out job was done.

527

After tomorrow, Kiryu Kazuma and Majima Goro wouldn't be a
problem to anyone anymore.

◈◈◈
All was quiet at Tojo HQ. It was late, and the night guard patrolled
with only about half the number of the day guards. The families were
still in mourning over Kiryu's death, and over the past two weeks,
Daigo personally had received more condolence gifts now than he
ever did when his real father was shot between the eyes. It just went
to show how revered Kiryu was in these circles. Daigo stretched his
back, walking towards the window. He'd been up all night trying to
rearrange the clan's finances after such a pricey funeral. After all, he
wasn't about to cut corners when it came to Kiryu's memory. With
his dress shirt messy and rolled to his elbows, Daigo wiggled his tie
loose and lit himself a smoke. He checked his watch. Nearly midnight.
Daigo sighed through his nose, the smoke coming with it. There
was a smell of rain in the air, and Daigo paused to admire a few
thunder heads rolling in from the west. He lowered his cigarette as a
memory came to him.
A memory of Kiryu. Fighting him in the rain. He was just a kid
then. So angry, so petty. Unprepared for what his destiny needed
from him. And all the mistakes that followed... Daigo closed his eyes,
rubbing his inner corner with a thumb. Had he made Kiryu proud in
those last few years? There were so many times when he was sure
he'd failed him. So many times when the insecurities, when the
pressure, was just too much for Daigo to bear. Yet one thing

528

remained constant: Kiryu's faith. No matter what horrible mistake
Daigo made, no matter which wrong turn he took, there was always
Kiryu, ready to help correct those missteps.

Which meant that the next time he screwed up... there would be
no one.

Daigo furrowed his brow and took a long, pensive drag of his
smoke. He almost didn't even hear the knock at his door, and turned,
slowly coming out of his thoughts. “It's open,” he said. In walked
Saejima, who bowed his head respectably.

“Excuse the intrusion,” Saejima said. “I saw the light on. Thought
I'd come check on you.”

Daigo chuckled. “That obvious, huh?” He walked over to his desk
and sat down. The family's books stared back at him. “You can't sleep
either, can you?”

“No,” Saejima admitted. Daigo offered him a seat, and Saejima
took it.

“You know, you don't have to stay here,” Daigo said. “It's been a
couple of weeks. Shouldn't you be working on getting your family
situated, Patriarch Saejima?”

A smile flickered on Saejima's face. “Ah, well... I'd been hoping to
hash out the finer points with my kyodai, but Majima hasn't been
around since the funeral.”

“Oh?” Daigo tapped the ashes into his tray. “Where do you think
he went?”

529

“Who can say?” Saejima offered. “All I know is, when Majima
needs space, that's what you give him.” His smile faltered, and
Saejima stared out the open window. It was starting to drizzle. “And
God knows he needs his space...”

Daigo snubbed out his cigarette. “And do you?” Saejima turned to
him. “Need your space, I mean? We were all Kiryu-san's friends.”

“We were,” Saejima agreed. He fiddled his big hands on his lap, as
though he didn't know what to do with them. “To be honest... I don't
like sitting around. Frankly, twenty five years in the slammer gave me
enough time to sit. I figure... if Kiryu-han would want me to do
anything, it would be to make sure you're getting along ok.”

Daigo smiled, ruefully. “I see,” he said. “I suppose that tracks. He
was always worried about me. Not that I blame him.” He rubbed his
long face. “Eleven years as chairman and the Tojo Clan has nearly
crumbled under its own weight more times than I can count.”

Saejima frowned. “You don't give yourself enough credit, Dojima-
han. Your mettle has been put to the test far more often than your
predecessors. And you always come out the other side.”

“Do I?” Daigo tapped his finger on the edge of the desk, watching
as rain splashed against the open window sill. He could see the
beginnings of lightning flicker in the thicker cloud heads beyond the
horizon. “To be honest, I always felt like I was given too much credit.
Kiryu-san certainly had more faith in me than I ever thought I
deserved.”

530

Saejima leaned back in his chair, big hands flat on his thighs.
“Kiryu-han was always an excellent judge of character. Questioning
that is a dishonor to his memory, don't you think?” Daigo blinked,
caught a little off guard by that perspective, but cracked a smile
regardless.

“Well... that's one way to put it, I guess.” A deeper rumble of
thunder brought Daigo up off his chair and to the window. He
hesitated before closing and locking the latch. “How about a night
cap?” he asked Saejima. He agreed, and Daigo took a decanter of
brandy from his bookshelf. He was pouring them each a glass when
his phone buzzed from its charger on the desk. Daigo paused and
checked the screen. It was an email. From Koshimizu Kanji of the
Yomei Alliance. Daigo picked up the phone, making Saejima crane his
neck from his seat.

“Dojima-han?”
Daigo opened up the email and skimmed through it. “The Yomei
want to meet with me.”
“What?” Saejima was up in an instant and walked around to the
other side of the desk. Despite keeping his cool at Kiryu's funeral,
there was fire in his eyes at the mention of the syndicate that ended
his life. “You can't be serious.”
“It says it right here.” Daigo flipped it around. “I guess they
thought a phone call at this hour might be too impolite. Still.” Daigo
brought his phone back. “Yakuza using email... We really are in a new
era.”

531

“Do you think it's a trap?”

“I don't know.” Daigo sat down and laid his phone on the desk.

“The email didn't say what they wanted. Just that their chairman
wants to talk.”

Saejima sneered. “The same chairman who was there that
night?”

“He was a captain then, but I believe so, yes.”

“If I could speak freely, Sixth Chairman.”

“Please do.”

“If the fucker was on fire, I wouldn't piss on him to put it out.”
Daigo laughed. “Well, fortunately you haven't been promoted to

Seventh Chairman.” He took a sip of his brandy in thought. “I'll see

what he wants. You, of course, are encouraged to be there. I'm going

to insist that if he wants to parlé, he'll have to do it on our territory.”

“A wise decision, Dojima-han.”
Daigo set his glass aside. By now, the rain was coming down

harder. He stared through the watery windows, deep in thought.
Though he didn't want to admit it, he was inclined to side with

Saejima. He was trying hard to remain impartial and professional, but

it was hard. Could he face a man involved with Kiryu's death so

easily?

Kiryu-san... what would you do if you were me?

◈◈◈

Tick... tick... tick... tick...

532

The clock was all that Kiryu could hear. That, and the gentle
breathing of Majima Goro beside him. It was 3am, and Kiryu's house
guest had finally fallen asleep. Laying flat on the futon, Kiryu turned
to look at him. In his sleep, Majima had turned away, laying on his
shoulder. Kiryu watched the street light cut across the back of his
inky hair. Just hours before, they were holding each other. Lost in the
throws of passion once thought to have left them years ago. Kiryu
took in every detail. Every smell, every noise that Majima made.
Making love that night, Kiryu was sure to drown himself in the
sensations of his partner. And as Majima drifted away, Kiryu held him
for as long as he was able, until it was time to slowly pull his arms
away from that warm, tender body. Slowly, he sat up. Majima didn't
move.

Quietly as he could, Kiryu got out of bed and set to work. He
wouldn't be bringing much. His wallet, some cash, a change of
clothes. He never needed a whole lot whenever he skipped town.
Just enough to get him through a few days until he found a place to
crash. As he dressed, Kiryu was sure to check every so often to see if
Majima was awake. So far, he hadn't stirred. Kiryu lingered at the
genkan, stuffing his feet into some worn out old sneakers. The last
thing he needed was to run around in his snakeskin loafers and pale
gray “I'm totally not a gangster” suit jacket. Kiryu hoisted the
backpack of his necessities onto his shoulder, and turned. Still,
Majima remained where he was. Sleeping soundly. Kiryu's heart
pained, but he knew better than to sneak a kiss. Without a word,

533

Kiryu left the apartment, leaving the house key on the coffee table. It
sat, in the street lamp, next to Kiryu's only photos in the whole
world.

He figured it'd be better to leave them, this time.
First thing's first. Kiryu walked to the cafe, a note stuffed into his
pocket. He had hoped that Majima would have fallen asleep a little
sooner, as he knew that Suto often got the bakery started around
4am before the doors opened for breakfast. As he approached, he
noticed the lights were out beyond the glass door, and he
approached it. He took out his letter and wedged it in between the
door and its frame. He hoped that Suto could find someone to
replace him quickly.
“Suzuki-san?”
Speak of the devil. Kiryu turned to see Suto, key in hand. “What
are you doing here so early? Your shift isn't for another six hours.”
“Suto-san...” Kiryu removed the letter and stared at it. “I'm... I'm
sorry. I have to quit.”
“Quit? What brought this on?” Suto stepped forward and knit his
wiry brows together. “Does it have anything to do with that man
from last night? What happened anyway, Suzuki-san? Are you in any
kind of danger?”
Kiryu's shoulders slumped. “No,” he said carefully. “I... It's a long
story. And I should be going soon—” But rather than wish him well,
Suto opened the door to the cafe and invited Kiryu inside. Kiryu
perked up. “Suto-san...?”

534

“When's the last time you had anyone to talk to, Suzuki-san?”
Suto flipped on the light and held the door open for him. “Come. I'll
get some coffee going, and we'll chat.” Kiryu flashed him a grateful
smile, and the two made their way inside. Kiryu pulled up a chair as
Suto went to the espresso machine. Two lattes later, they sat across
from one another at the far left table, enjoying day old croissants.
“Now then. Why don't you start at the beginning. Like who that man
is for instance?”

Kiryu stirred his drink absentmindedly. “Who is Majima-san... I
guess you could say he's my ex.”

“Oh? The ex you're still in love with?”
“Yes.”
“Mm.” Wisely, Suto took a sip of his coffee. “Go on.”
“We ended things years ago, and hadn't seen each other face to
face since then. I've made some... decisions in my life that he doesn't
agree with. He has every right not to. But the fact is, they're still my
decisions to make. Now that he's found me, he's going to try and
convince me to go back on my convictions, and I just can't do that.
Not after everything...” Kiryu's words faded, and silence filled the
room.
“You said you still love him,” Suto clarified.
“Yes.”
“How much?” Kiryu lifted his head. “How would you feel
tomorrow if he died today?” That question caught Kiryu off guard,

535

and for the life of him, he couldn't find the words to answer it.
“Would you be satisfied with how things were left?”

“Satisfied...?” The word itself felt like poison on his lips. “No.”
“And how does he feel about you?” Suto pried. “I'm guessing the
same?”
“Yes.”
“Well... it seems to me like you have a very simple choice, Suzuki-
san.” Suto leaned forward, cupping his mug with both hands. “You
must choose which is more important to you. Your convictions or
your love.”
Kiryu's heart fell into his gut. His hand tightened on his coffee
mug and he stared deep into the froth. “It's... more complicated than
that.”
“Is it?”
“There's so much at stake. Lives, even, of those I care about. How
can I let myself be selfish when that's on the line?”
“Mmm.” Suto took a bite of his pastry, mulling it over. “Perhaps I
could give better advice if I knew the full story...” However, Kiryu
remained tight lipped. Suto held up his hand. “All right. In that case,
perhaps a bit of general wisdom, then? Suzuki-san.” He waited until
Kiryu was looking up before continuing. “No matter how much you
push against it, the world will always spin.”
Kiryu furrowed his brow. “What...?”
“It means,” Suto clarified, “that you can try and control things all
you like. But what will happen will happen. Men have gone mad

536

trying to change their fates, Suzuki-san. And it seems to me, if I may
say, that fate has very big plans in store for you. Very big plans
indeed.”

Kiryu lowered his eyes. He wanted to argue. That his decisions
outreached whatever “fate” wanted to give him. And yet, the more
he thought, the more he realized just how right Suto might have
been. First, he took the fall for Nishikiyama, and ended up the Forth
Chairman of the Tojo Clan. Then he retired, and wound up front and
center of an all out yakuza war. Each and every time Kiryu tried
pulling from the family, from his past, there he was, getting pulled
right back in. Even now, when he thought he'd finally managed to
beat the system, his past, his fate, had a knack for catching up with
him.

“Well.” Suto stood, drawing Kiryu from his thoughts. “I hope that I
still see you today, Suzuki-san. I have to get the pastries started.”

“Right...” Kiryu stood and bowed his head. “Thank you for the
chat, Suto-san.”

“Of course.” In a fatherly fashion, Suto pat Kiryu's shoulder. “I'm
always here if you need an ear. Eh?” Kiryu smiled and nodded. With
one last look, Kiryu stepped out of the cafe and took a breath. Suto's
words lingered heavy on his mind. What to do now? Should he go
through with it? Vanish into the sunrise and keep his word to the
Yomei? Or would that even be enough? Majima found him once
before. What was to stop him from finding him again?

537

Momentarily, Kiryu was side-tracked by the sound of a siren,
breaking the serenity of the morning. It was odd to hear any kind of
emergency vehicle in this peaceful part of Kyoto, and it put Kiryu on
high alert. Hearing it traveling west, Kiryu followed the sound until he
managed to catch sight of his block.

To his horror, he saw his apartment building up in flames.
“Majima!” Kiryu flew into a sprint as the firefighters readied their
hose. Neighbors were hurrying out to see the destruction. A few
EMT's were treating some of Kiryu's fellow renters for shock and
smoke inhalation. Majima was not among them. Closer to the flames,
Kiryu desperately tried to see into his window. There was no sign of
Majima inside.
“Sir, please!” One of the firefighters approached Kiryu, trying to
keep him back.
“There's someone in there!”
“We're doing everything we can to—hey! Sir!”
Kiryu was already running up the stairs towards the fire. Dropping
his back pack on the steps, Kiryu hiked up his coat collar and barged
in through the front door. The heat of the inferno hit his face, and he
held up his arm to block the flying embers. “Majima!” he shouted.
Through the hellscape, he saw a body. It was impossible to make out
the details, but it was face down in a heap over the table. Blood
dripped off the table and pooled beneath it. Kiryu flew into a panic.
He raced forward and yanked the body up by its shoulders.

538

It wasn't Majima. As a matter of fact, he wasn't anyone Kiryu
recognized. But he did have something familiar about him. A massive
stab wound deep within his chest. No doubt from a certain
someone's faithful tanto knife. Kiryu tossed the corpse aside and
stood, rounding to face the rest of the apartment. “MAJIMA!”

The ceiling above him creaked, and Kiryu dove just as a fiery
beam crashed onto the floor. Any closer and it would have broken his
leg, trapping him there. He pressed himself up to the door of his
bathroom, trying to think where Majima had ran off to. That's when
he heard it. It was faint, and barely there, but it was there
nonetheless.

“Kiryu...chan...”
A thrill shot up Kiryu's spine and he turned, yanking open the
bathroom door. Majima was slumped beside the sink, which was
plugged up and overflowing with water. Majima sat beneath the
excess, no doubt to keep himself as non-flammable as possible. His
breathing was haggard, as he sat in only a pair of sweats Kiryu had
laying around. In his left hand was his bloodied knife. And clutched in
his right, was a bleeding gunshot wound from his abdomen.
“Majima!” Kiryu fell to his knees in front of him. Majima was pale.
The water on the floor beside him was running red with his lost
blood. If Kiryu didn't act now, there'd be no later.
“If he died today, how would you feel tomorrow?”
“Majima, stay with me. Stay strong.” Kiryu dove his arms under
Majima's limp body and held him close. Majima's head rolled around

539

on his shoulders. Kiryu raced from the burning building just as the
bathroom ceiling collapsed behind them. He took the stairs three at a
time, and delivered Majima to an ambulance on site. The paramedics
looked up in alarm as Kiryu presented them with Majima's body.
“He's been shot!” he explained. “He's lost a lot of blood.”

The paramedics helped get Majima onto the gurney, and Kiryu
joined them inside. “What's his blood type?” one asked him.

“It's AB,” said Kiryu. He was already rolling up his sleeve. “I can
donate. I'm Type O.” They didn't need much prompting after that.
The medic closest to Kiryu found a vein, swabbed it, and inserted a
needle, which was quickly hooked up to a transfusion bag. While the
others kept pressure on the bullet wound, Kiryu's blood traveled up a
tube, through a bag, and down into Majima's arm. He was then put
into an oxygen mask as the ambulance tore through the peaceful
streets, headed straight for the hospital.

Kiryu leaned forward, taking Majima's limp hand. His eye was
already fluttering closed, and in the harsh light of the ambulance, he
appeared even more pallid and sallow. “Majima-san...” Kiryu touched
his damp cheek, soiled by wet ash. “I'm here. I'm here. Please...

“Please stay alive.”

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chapter 6: From the ashes

The rain didn't let up on Tojo HQ until the following morning. By
the time noon rolled around, blue skies had chased away the
thunderheads, leaving beautiful, sunny raindrops on the facility's
gardens. It was a day that begged for afternoon walks and roadside
picnics. Unfortunately for Daigo, he was in no mood or position to
enjoy the weather. He'd woken up to a phone call from Koshimizu
Kanji himself, following up on the email. As it turned out, the Third
Chairman of the Yomei was in town, and was eager to have a sit
down with Daigo as soon as possible. Hence why he, Saejima, and a
few other patriarchs sat waiting in the meeting room for Koshimizu
to arrive.

“I don't see why we have to entertain this guy.” The words came
from one Tashiro Katsu, current patriarch of the Someya family. He
was a willowy fellow, with a hook nose and black hair kept in a stubby
ponytail. Unlike his predeceasing patriarch, Tashiro did not seem as
smooth or intelligent as Someya Takumi. Plus he had one hell of a
short fuse. “Not only are these the same people who killed the Forth
Chairman, but they tricked and betrayed Someya-san right up until
his death. Are we going to pretend like their chairman is
trustworthy?”

“You don't have to trust him,” Saejima said bluntly. “But have a
little faith in the Sixth Chairman, will ya?” He leaned back in his chair,

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big hands cupping the arm rests. “Dojima-han thinks we oughta at
least hear him out. And we'll go from there.”

Tashiro scoffed. “Yeah, well, if it were up to me, we woulda gone
marching into Hiroshima the second they put a bullet in Kiryu-san—”

“Well then it's good that that decision was not up to you, Tashiro-
san.” Daigo's voice cut him to the quick. “Unless you're fine with
trampling on Kiryu-san's final wishes?” Tashiro went quiet, and Daigo
leaned forward on his knees. “Look, I'm not about to bend over
backwards for the ones responsible for killing the Fourth Chairman.
What we're doing here is pure politics. Show them that we're willing
to meet if it avoids a war between our families.” Daigo frowned.
“Unless you're happy to watch more Tojo men die for your ego,
Patriarch Tashiro?”

Tashiro stiffened, but didn't bite back. Despite how he nearly
crawled out of his skin to do so. “No, Sixth Chairman,” he finally said.

“Good.”
“Sixth Chairman.” A subordinate walked in and bowed. “Chairman
Koshimizu has arrived.”
Daigo straightened up in his chair, arms flat on either side of him.
“Show him in.” The man did as was asked, and the doors opened to
reveal a tall man in a blood red suit. He was accompanied by a
handful of underlings, all of which wore Yomei pins proudly on their
left lapel. One of the men held an overabundant flower basket in his
arms, complete with a wine bottle, topped off with a black ribbon.

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Koshimizu approached Daigo, stopping just shy of five feet from
the Chairman's seat. He motioned to the man holding the basket,
who set it at Daigo's feet. Daigo cocked an eyebrow. “What's this
about?”

“Just a small offering of condolences, Sixth Chairman.” His voice
was low and controlled, and his bald browline was drawn into a
permanent scowl, despite his smile. “I thought we'd start this off
with a show of good faith. Since you were kind enough to not shoot
us on sight.”

Daigo waved at a man standing by, who took the basket away.
“Please understand,” Daigo began, “our restraint is not kindness. It
was the wish of our Fourth Chairman that we didn't take the Yomei
Alliance by force. There are quite a few of my patriarchs who would
rather see your head on a wall, Chairman Koshimizu.”

That smile stretched over Koshimizu's bony face. “All the more
reason for us to be friends,” he slithered. That earned him glares
from both Tashiro and Saejima. “Let me begin by saying that, if you
consider our proposition, it should be a lucrative—”

“Get to the point,” said Daigo.
Koshimizu's eye twitched, but his smile held. “Up until recently,
the Yomei Alliance has revolved around one thing. The Secret of
Onomichi. Now that the jig is up, and we're not exactly run by the old
guard any more, it's time for our organization to get with the times,
y'know what I mean?” Daigo said nothing, and Koshimizu elaborated.

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“The Tojo Clan is the biggest, most impressive syndicate in Japan to
date. The Yomei Alliance could benefit from a treaty between us.”

“Is that right?” Daigo asked, dryly. “And why should we agree to
that? What could we possibly have to gain by letting the likes of you
join our ranks?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Koshimizu asked. “Tokyo is the kingdom to the
East. Hiroshima is the the kingdom to the West. And right in the
middle is...?” Koshimizu held out his hand, waiting for Daigo to put
two and two together. When it dawned on him, his lips parted, and
his eyebrows lifted in shock.

“Osaka...”
“Bingo.” Koshimizu put his hands behind his back, smiling smugly
as though he'd just won a grand prize. “Home of the Omi Alliance,
isn't it? Imagine it: book ending territories with your greatest enemy
trapped in the middle. They'd be surrounded. Pigeonholed. The Tojo
Clan solidifies their rule over all of Japan's underworld. And...”
Koshimizu held up a finger, bringing it all home. “...any war between
syndicates is snuffed out for the foreseeable future. A plan for peace.
Something that could truly honor the legacy of the Dragon of Dojima,
don't you think?”
“Don't...” The new voice was not Daigo's, or even Tashiro's, but
Saejima's. The entire time, he'd been curiously quiet, letting the
proposition sink in. But finally, Saejima lifted his head, burning his
eyes into Koshimizu's. “Don't pretend like you'd know what Kiryu-han

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would want. You assholes are the reason we have to honor him in the
first place.”

“Previous Yomei leadership is responsible for Kiryu Kazuma's
death,” Koshimizu corrected. “I wasn't made Third Chairman until
after it all happened. I promise you that things are gonna be different
in Hiroshima from here on out.”

“Bullshit.” Saejima stood from his seat, and Daigo went rigidly
alert.

“Saejima-san...”
Saejima didn't hear him, and instead rounded to Koshimizu,
snarling. “You don't get to walk in here with clean hands, fucker. You
can say you weren't involved all you want, but it was your family that
took those fatal shots. You might not'a pulled the trigger, but you're
fuckin' nuts if you think we're gonna let you off the hook so easily.”
Koshimizu looked Saejima up and down. “'Saejima-san', was it?”
He glanced at Daigo for confirmation. Daigo said nothing. “Yeah... I've
heard plenty about you. A legend of the Tojo. A killer of eighteen
men in one fell swoop.” Koshimizu sucked on his front teeth. “I gotta
say... I respect your work. But that aside, I don't think you're the
kinda guy who has any right to talk about clean hands here...”
“My hands aren't the ones in question,” Saejima replied. “The
fact of the matter is, you were a willing participant in Kiryu-han's
death. So don't try us with this 'treaty' bullshit.” Koshimizu narrowed
his eyes, and for a tense moment, there was a fight on the horizon.
That was, until Daigo finally broke the silence.

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“Patriarch Saejima. Please, have a seat.” Saejima lingered, but
eventually sat himself back down. Daigo laced his fingers together,
leaning back in his chair. “You mentioned that the Yomei Alliance
could benefit from us. How, specifically?”

“How?” Koshimizu repeated. “How else? Connections. Networks.
See, for so many years, the First Chairman kept the Yomei Alliance
around as the window dressing of Hiroshima. We existed for one
purpose and one purpose only. But we're in the modern age now,
and there's room for growth. Ambition. Y'see, we ain't had too many
trips outside our little hometown. Which means we have less
resources to work with. Way I look at it, it's a win-win.”

Daigo took a deep breath, letting the words wash over him.
“Patriarch Tashiro.” Tashiro looked up from where he'd been slumped
against his cushion. “What are your thoughts on all this? After all, it
was Someya-san's initial plan to make a pact with them when he was
alive.”

Tashiro rubbed his hands together with a sigh. “You've got a
point, Sixth Chairman.” His eyes flickered up to Koshimizu. “Still... I
don't trust this fucker as far as I can throw him.”

“Trust that I'd be an idiot to try and screw you over,” Koshimizu
rebutted. “You've got three times the amount of men and hundreds
of miles on us as far as influence. Frankly, compared to us small town
boys, the Tojo Clan is a giant to reckon with.”

Daigo stared at Koshimizu's face. He wasn't about to go so far as
to say he thought Koshimizu was telling the whole truth, but parts of

546

his reasoning were sound. And Daigo would be a fool to immediately
pass up an opportunity to corner the Omi in their territory. Finally, he
stood, and Koshimizu turned to him, ready and waiting. “Can you
give me a week to think it over, Third Chairman?” Saejima twitched
at that, but said nothing.

“Of course,” said Koshimizu. “Please, take all the time you need.
I'll be in town for another two weeks at the latest. And you have my
phone number now.” Koshimizu bowed respectfully, and Daigo did
the same, though not quite as low. “We'll see ourselves out. Thank
you for your time, Sixth Chairman.” Daigo watched as Koshimizu
walked his men from the meeting room and through the double
doors. A long silence fell over the yakuza left behind. That was, until
Saejima stood from his seat and approached Daigo with vitriol.

“Dojima-han,” he said urgently. “Please don't consider this. We
can't trust the Yomei Alliance after what they did.”

“Hey, it's not like I trust the fuckers either,” said Tashiro, “but this
was what Someya-san would want. And you can't deny that what
they're offering is a pretty sweet deal. It's business.”

Saejima grit his teeth. “What happened to, 'they betrayed my
patriarch'?”

“What happened to having faith in your chairman?”
“Gentlemen, enough.” Daigo rubbed his temple and walked to
the window. He rubbed his aching neck and put a hand on his hip.
“There's a lot to consider here. Not just our own feelings.”
“Dojima-han...” Saejima began.

547

“I said I'd give my answer in a week,” Daigo reminded him. “And

that's what I'll do.” He turned to the two patriarchs. “No matter what

I decide, I'm going to need your support. I'll need the support of
everyone in the Tojo Clan, regardless of what happens. Can I count

on that?”
Tashiro stood and faced Daigo fully. “Yeah... We're behind ya,

Sixth Chairman.” Daigo turned to Saejima, awaiting an answer.

Saejima hesitated. With a deep breath, he bowed his head.

“I'll refer to your leadership, Sixth Chairman.”

Daigo went back to staring out the window, hands in his pockets.
“Thank you. You're dismissed.” With that, everyone, even the

lingering subordinates, left the room, allowing Daigo time to himself.

When the door closed behind the crowd, he laid his head on the cool

glass, watching the garden with passive eyes.

Once again, he found himself wondering what Kiryu would do in
his shoes. If only there was a way to ask him... Daigo's heart sank.

Was he really so helpless without Kiryu's insight? What's more, a
depressing thought came over him as he turned from the window. Is

my grief selfish? he thought. Did he really miss Kiryu Kazuma, or did

he miss what Kiryu Kazuma could do for him? The horrible possibility

festered deep in his heart, and as he left the meeting room, he did so

with his mind clouded by a storm of doubt.

◈◈◈

“Ay, yo! We're home!”

548

“Welcome home, everybody!” Haruka smiled as her younger
siblings filed in through the front door. It was Friday, which meant an
earlier return for the weekend. One by one, the kids of Morning
Glory kicked off their shoes and spread throughout the house, most
of them heading to the kitchen for snacks. Haruka had spent her day
shopping with Yuta and Haruto, and planned cold soba for dinner
tonight. It had been a lovely day for it, especially since Haruka's mind
had been bogged down for days.

It'd been two weeks since she saw Majima Goro. Two weeks since
she learned that her Uncle Kaz was alive, and two weeks since she
was left without any contact or way of knowing if they'd found each
other yet. Most days, Haruka paced around the house, busying
herself with menial tasks just to keep her hands occupied. At night,
she tossed and turned, sometimes staring at her phone for hours,
just waiting for a call, a text, something. Nothing came.

Ayako had just put her backpack down when she noticed the bags
underneath Haruka's eyes. “Ah, Oneechan? Are you all right?”

“Hm? Oh I'm fine!” Haruka waved off her concern. “Haruto's
been keeping me up lately, that's all.”

Ayako folded her hands behind her back. She was nearly
seventeen now, and had budded into a warm young lady. Haruka had
of course made it clear that even if the kids “aged out” of the foster
system, they were welcome to stay for as long as they needed. And
with how big a help Ayako was around the house, Haruka had hoped

549

that her little sister would stick around at least a few years after she
turned eighteen. “Is it really that tough?” Ayako asked.

“Well you know how babies are,” she said, dismissively. “They
don't really care if you only get a couple hours of sleep. When they're
hungry, they're hungry, you know?”

“I guess.” Ayako tilted her head. “Doesn't Yuta-kun help out?”
“W-well... Yeah. He does.” Speaking of, Haruka looked out the
open door. Yuta was sitting at the outside table, Haruto in front of
him, and a pile of soft blocks between them. Haruka watched Yuta's
eyes twinkle as he and his son built little towers and houses, only for
Haruto's feet to knock them over. Every time, Yuta gasped with
delight, making Haruto squeal in uncontrollable giggles. Haruka's
heart warmed.
“How are you and Yuta-kun?” Ayako asked. “If you don't mind...”
“Oh, well... we're um...” Haruka looked away from the lovely
scene. “We're fine.”
Ayako frowned. Clearly, she wasn't buying it. Hands on her hips,
Ayako scanned the house, as if thinking something over, before
rounding back to Haruka with a smile. “Hey. Let's go get some ice
cream.”
Haruka blinked. “Ice cream?”
“Yeah. It's warm enough. And I saw a cart on my way home from
school. We haven't had any chance to talk to ourselves in a while. It'll
be nice.”

550