Love of a Lifetime

Majima, pouring them each a drink, scoffed. “The shit that comes
outta yer mouth...” He walked over, a glass of whiskey each, and
handed one to Nishitani. “I had to mend that one.”

“Mend?” Sure enough, as Nishitani examined the dress, he
spotted a seam, recently done up with matching thread. He peered
at it. “Oooh. Hey, that's a nice job there, pal. Who woulda known you
got that kinda talent?”

Majima shrugged, taking a sip. “Well, every red cent I make goes
to Sagawa. Sometimes, the dresses get holes and I can't afford a
seamstress.”

“Oh no?” Nishitani tossed the dress back to the couch and took a
sip of his liquor. “Why didn'tchya say so? I know a gal who does great
work. I'll foot the bill.”

But Majima shook his head. “I don't need any more debts,
thanks. Besides, I think I'm getting the hang of it.” With a sip of his
own drink, Majima leaned against the desk, one arm folded over the
other. “So. Let's hear this apology, eh? You gonna get down on the
floor and beg me for it or what?”

“Hey, if you wanna see me beg, just ask, Majima-kun.” He turned
to face Majima, and to the manager's surprise, Nishitani bowed his
head, respectfully. “You know I didn't have much of a choice, but that
ain't an excuse for fuckin' with yer place of business. For that, I'm
sorry.” He tilted his head up just a bit, that devilish smile twinkling.
“Good?”

51

“Well it's a start...” As much as he hated to admit it, a tiny smile
began twitching on Majima's lips. He pushed off his desk and went to
the opposite couch. He and Nishitani sat across from each other, and
they held up their glasses in a toast. For a while, they sat, drinking
and making small talk. Majima had to admit, now that they weren't
trying to kill each other, Nishitani wasn't terrible company. He made
plenty of lewd jokes still, but nothing that was worse than Majima's
old family days. Some of them even got Majima laughing a little. The
original ten minute time limit was surpassed easily, and Majima kept
the drinks flowing. Maybe it was Nishitani's charm. Maybe it was just
how lonely Majima had been in Osaka from day one. But regardless
of what it was, talking with another yakuza was... nice. Familiar.
Comfortable. And it was what spearheaded Majima's urge to keep
the conversation going for as long as they were able. There was no
pretending with Nishitani. There wasn't a need for it.

About an hour passed before Majima even noticed the time. He'd
opened his mouth, probably to say something about getting back
onto the floor, when he noticed that Nishitani was holding up the
dress again. Majima blinked. “Somethin' up?” But Nishitani stood,
and gestured for Majima to stand with him. When he did, Nishitani
pressed the bodycon to Majima's shoulders, letting it lay along his
front. That coy smile curled up Nishitani's lips.

“Well look at that. Fits ya nice, Majima-kun.”
Embarrassment shot through Majima, and he slapped Nishitani's
hands away. “The hell—?!” His ears burned, and he yanked the

52

dressed from Nishitani, tossing it back onto the couch. “You seriously
got a screw loose, man.”

“What?” Nishitani joked, innocently. “You ain't never tried nothin'
on? Aintchya a lil curious?”

“Fuck is wrong with you?” Majima finished off his whiskey and
set the glass on the table. “Anyway, ye're way past your ten minutes.”

“Struck a nerve, did I?” Nishitani, his blazer unbuttoned and his
tie loosened, stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. “You know,
with that slim waist of yers, you could pull off a dress real nice.”

53

“Haw? The hell are you talkin' about?”
“I'm talkin' about you.” Nishitani gestured at Majima's body. “Get
you in a nice lil sparkly number? Tell you what, yer girls would be
jealous.”
“I think you had a lil too much to drink.”
Nishitani held up his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine. I'm just sayin'...”
“Sayin' what, exactly?” Majima snorted. “How'd we even get on
this conversation?”
Nishitani stepped forward, and Majima caught a glow in his dark
eyes that sent shivers down his spine. “Majima-kun,” he said, “I know
that bastard Sagawa's got you by the short and curlies... But I seen
the way you look at yer girls. I've caught you shoppin' for 'em. Goin'
through the dress racks fer hours and hours.”
Majima narrowed his eyes. “You've spied on me, you fuck?”
But Nishitani chuckled. “Not intentionally,” he admitted. “Just
been at the right café at the right time. Seen yer eyes get all twinkly
when you run yer fingers through those satin slips. And, when ya
think nobody's lookin, ya hold it up to ya, just fast enough to get a
feel.”
The tips of Majima's ears burned hot. He pushed passed Nishitani
and went for the door. Yanking it open, he glared at his office guest,
unwavering. “It's time fer you to go. And do yerself a favor: 'banned
fer life' means banned fer life.”
But Nishitani wasn't dissuaded. With a smile and a swagger, he
headed for the door. He stopped only for a moment at the frame,

54

gazing out into The Grand with a thoughtful expression. “Tomorrow
night,” he said. “Meet me at the east end of Shofukucho. I got a place
I wanna take ya.” He glanced at Majima. “Say... eight o'clock?”

“Not on your life.”
Nishitani's smile widened. “It's a date.” And with a wink,
Nishitani Homare strut out the office, down the steps, and through
the front doors. Majima watched from his office window. His
stomach was churning six ways to Sunday.
What was that even about? The audacity of that... pervy... Him?
In a dress? Majima's eye drifted from the streets of Sotenbori to the
reflection in his dark window. It wasn't often he admired himself,
even when he had both eyes. Frankly, there were more important
things to worry about than what you looked like. But, as he stared,
his fingers found their way up to his stiff ponytail. He pulled on the
elastic band, and like black water, his hair came tumbling down
around his neck. He stared at his reflection for a long time, fingers
touching the tips of his hair, curiously.
Who knew? Who knew that perverted, slimy old man would have
been right on the money?
Shaking himself out of those thoughts, Majima put his hair back
up, straightened his tux, and then headed back out to the floor. It
was barely 11pm. There were quite a few busy hours ahead of them.
As he went to turn off the light, he caught a quick glance of pink.
That bodycon dress, sparkly as ever, sat neglected on his couch. After

55

a moment, Majima shut off the light, and closed the door on his way
out.

◈◈◈
“What the fuck am I doing here?”
It was a question he asked himself plenty of times as he
wandered down E. Shofukucho. It was warm out, so Majima opted
for his usual white shirt, sans blazer, and sleeves rolled up to the
elbow. He hated how easily Nishitani got under his skin. Since leaving
The Grand the night before, Majima hadn't been able to get the
fucker out of his head. Mind games, that's what they had to be.
Reaching a stretch of taxis, Majima paused to light up a cigarette. He
leaned against a streetlamp and checked his watch. Filter pinched
between his teeth, he scoffed. 7:58. He was fucking early.
“Well well.” Majima turned at Nishitani's voice. “And here I
thought you'd stand me up. I'm touched.”
“Yeah, well.” Majima didn't finish his thought, focusing on
smoking instead. “So where's this place you wanna take me?”
Nishitani gestured behind him, and Majima looked. On the end of
the block sat a little boutique. Majima recognized it. He often went in
to stock up on new dresses for his girls when the budget allowed it.
With it being so late, the store was locked up, but Majima recalled
the outside racks easily. He also noticed, to his chagrin, that a
sidewalk café sat directly opposite of its street corner. Majima sucked
on his smoke in irritation.
Well now he knew how Nishitani got his spying done...

56

“Come on. They're waitin'.”
“Haw?” Still, Majima followed as Nishitani lead him to the
boutique. When they arrived, Majima noticed a back light turned on
inside. Nishitani knocked, and he saw a head bob. A shop girl, a cute
thing barely out of high school, pulled back a curtain from the glass
door. She got a look at Nishitani, smiled. As she reached for her keys,
Nishitani passed Majima a sly look.
“Paid the gals here a lil somethin' extra fer some private service.”
“Private service...?” The door opened, and the shop girl bowed
her head to the pair of them.
“Welcome,” she greeted. She caught sight of Majima, and
suddenly, her eyes were filled with innocent excitement. “Is this him,
sir? The one you talked about over the phone?”
Nishitani nodded. “This is him.”
“Nishitani,” Majima grunted. “The hell you got up yer sleeve?”
Nishitani didn't answer. Instead, he walked Majima into the shop, and
the girl closed the door behind them. Now empty and past closing
time, the boutique was crammed with racks and mannequins.
Majima put his hands on his hips and rounded to Nishitani. “You
better start talkin, or I shove one of these hangers up your ass.”
The shop girl looked concerned, but Nishitani waved it off. “We're
good here, darlin'. You just go on back and put yer feet up.” With
another little bow, the clerk walked into the back. “So?” He held his
hands out to the racks. “Pick somethin'.”
Majima's heart slammed into his throat. “What...?”

57

“Pick somethin,” he said. “There ain't nobody around. You got the
whole store to yerself. No judgment.”

“Wha... what are ya...?” Majima spun around, flipping back and
forth between looking at the dresses, and looking at Nishitani. The
latter of which had a smile kinder than Majima had ever seen on him.
“Are you crazy? Ya fuckin' perv, you just want me to fill out some
kinda sick fantasy—!”

“Believe it or not,” Nishitani interrupted, “this ain't for me.
Well...” He chuckled. “Maybe it's a little for me. But I know good and
well that you got eyes on you everywhere you go in this city. Thought
it might be nice if you had a lil time to yourself. Totally to yourself.”

Majima wanted to argue further. He wanted to deny everything
Nishitani was offering him. That he wasn't some cross-dressing puff,
and Nishitani was due for an ass whooping for even thinking that
about him. But he couldn't. Because Nishitani was right. And it
showed, clear as day, through Majima's expression.

Without another word, he turned to the racks and ran his fingers
down the row. Short dresses, long dresses. Glittery numbers and
slick, sheen slips. A beautiful array of choices, all for him... Something
inside Majima warmed as he took a shoe from its display shelf.

“Nishitani... can I ask you somethin'?”
“Shoot.” By now, Nishitani had settled himself in a chair, hands
behind his head.
“Well...” Majima turned. “Why all this fuss? I get that you like
fightin' me or whatever. But this...” Majima looked around the

58

boutique and then returned to Nishitani. “Yer contract with the Omi
expired a while ago. Why're you still hangin' around?”

Nishitani didn't answer right away. His expression never changed,
but Majima saw something sincere flash behind those eyes. “I just
like bein' around ya. That's all.”

“Seriously?” said Majima. “That's it?”
Nishitani sighed, and let his hands drop to his knees. “I won't lie
to ya. I like you a lot, Majima-kun. That's why I've been stickin' my
nose into your business more'n usual.”
Honestly? That wasn't what Majima was expecting. “So this
whole thing about gettin' me into a dress... it's not just to make me
squirm or some shit?”
“You really can't read the room huh?” Nishitani chuckled and
shook his head. “Course not. I ain't doin' it to embarrass ya like that
dick Sagawa would.”
“Huh.” Majima stared at the shoe in his hand. He'd forgotten he'd
even picked it up. It was far too small for him. He doubted anything
in there would fit his feet, and he put the shoe aside. When he spoke
next, he didn't make eye contact. “So is this... is this you bein' nice to
me, then?”
“What? You want me to treat'chya like dog shit, same as
everybody else?”
“No. I just.” Majima stalled. “I just ain't used to it. You can't blame
me for being suspicious, man. I only ever had one friend in this
business. My kyodai. And I ain't never gonna see him again cause

59

he's sittin' on death row. I'm stuck here, like a dog on a leash, just
countin' the days till I'm outta this fuckin trash heap of a city. I ain't
used to somebody... likin' me. Much, anyway.”

Nishitani got out of his seat, and put a hand on Majima's lower
back. Majima looked up. “Well, while ye're still here, I might as well
take ya out whenever I can. I know Sagawa's got his lackeys around
this city watchin' yer every move. If they see that I'm with ya, they
won't say shit to him.”

Majima smiled, sourly. “One babysitter for another I guess...” He
hesitated, his cheeks burning, and he stared at the dresses. “Thank
you, Nishitani. You're still one weird fuck, but... I appreciate what
ye're doin. In your own way.”

Nishitani nodded. “Now.” He swat Majima's backside, utterly
ruining the moment. “Pick somethin', wouldjya? I wanna see some
skin already.”

Somehow, that made Majima laugh. “All right, all right...”
Giddiness bundled up in his gut, and he eagerly started going down
the selection. “Where do I even start...?”

“Well... when you shop for yer girls, what jumps out atchya...?”
“Mm.” Majima tapped his fingers on the rack. “Yuri-chan has this
sorta black number I thought was nice...”
“So let's find somethin' like Yuri-chan's, but better.” So they began
to look. Majima went through dress after dress. Some caught his
attention, but didn't hold it. Others he was far too nervous to pull
from the rack. All the while, Nishitani hung beside him, encouraging

60

him every step of the way. Majima wasn't sure if he should be
surprised or not. Nishitani had always had such a strange fascination
with Majima, but this was different. It was tender. Sincere. In the
same way chatting over drinks felt normal, this was beginning to feel
the same. Those uncertain butterflies faded away, and Majima began
to feel a level of comfort settle in on his heart.

“Oh. This one ain't bad.” Majima pulled a dress from the rack. It
was a modest number, black with a rhinestone collar. Its tule cap
sleeves were conservitive, but flirty all the same. Still, when he pulled
it up, Nishitani wrinkled his nose.

“No offense, Majima-kun,” he said, “but that dress doesn't look
like a style you would wear. How bout this one?” Nishitani removed a
slim fit, asymetrical black pencil dress from the rack. It had one
shoulder, and a low back, made of a thin, sheer fabric.

“This one?” It was pretty and slick, but plain. “You don't think the
shoulder's a little much...?”

“Relax. Just try it on. For me.”
Majima took it. It looked to be about his size. As he headed for
the changing rooms, he paused. Just out of the corner of his eye, he
saw a swath of black sitting on a dress form. His heart just about
jumped out of his chest, and he couldn't help but let a soft and
gentle “oh” escape his lips. Nishitani jumped at the chance, and
leaned forward.
“Haw? You see somethin'?”

61

Fresh embarrassment washed over Majima and he pulled away.
“A-ah. Naw. I'll just take this one here and...”

“Are you sure?” Nishitani pressed. “I saw yer eye twinkle when
you looked over in that corner.”

Majima swallowed the lump in his throat. “All right...” He pointed,
and Nishitani followed his finger. On a mannequin, sitting solo on a
display shelf, was a backless mermaid gown. It was long, with endless
folds of silky, sable fabric. It had no straps, with a sweatheart
neckline and an invisible zipper. And sitting on the shoulders of the
dress form was a sheer, almost invisible asymetrical sash, with
embroidered, black roses that cascaded down the right side of the
gown. It was the most beautiful thing Majima had ever seen.

Nishitani's eyes widened. “Fuck the other dresses,” he said. “Get
yer ass in that one.”

Majima stalled. “It... it ain't too much?”
Nishitani flashed Majima a vivid smile. “Naw,” he said. “It's
perfect.” He craned his neck. “Hey, darlin'!” The shop girl came out
from the back, and with skillful hands, removed the dress from its
display.
It weighed far more than Majima thought it would have, and with
careful hands, he carried it into the changing room. He glanced just
once over his shoulder. Both Nishitani and the shop clerk smiled with
encouragement, which lifted Majima's spirits just a bit. Hanging the
dress on a hook, he shut the door, looked at himself in the mirror,
and began to strip. Once he was down to his garters and briefs, he

62

took the dress in his trembling fingers and slipped it on. The moment
the zipper hit the top of the track, he felt the dress form to his body
like butter.

It was a perfect fit.
Majima took the shawl and wrapped it around his neck. After
that, he pulled out his ponytail, and let his hair tumble down past his
shoulders. He stared at himself. He felt... different? Perhaps? And yet,
he felt the same. The reflection in the mirror was both him and not
him, all at once. A true translation, and a warped forgery. Majima felt
overwhelmed, but stayed calm. He ran his fingers down the front of
the dress. He felt his muscles beneath the fabric, only to realize how
tight they were. He let out a breath, relaxing his body. He must have
been standing there for some time, because eventually, there was a
knock at the door, and Majima jumped.
“Majima-kun...?”
Something gripped Majima's heart. He once again stared at
himself in the mirror. The calm that he'd experienced began to slip
away. Terror replaced it instantly. Despite Nishitani presenting
Majima with a judgement free experience, Majima couldn't bare the
thought of anyone seeing him like this. A shame scalded his insides,
and his shoulders tensed. Jaw tightening, Majima held his fists to his
stomach, which was ready to turn at any moment.
“I'm not comin' out,” he announced.
“Eh?” came Nishitani's voice. “Oh come on, I betchya look great.
Let me see ya.”

63

“It ain't that... Christ...” Majima held his face, and his voice
lowered. “What would Saejima think if he saw me...?”

“What?” Nishitani asked. “Well if you ain't comin' out, I'm comin'
in.”

“No!” said Majima quickly. He turned. “Fine.” Heart pounding,
Majima undid the lock, and pushed open the door. And there he
stood, draped in his beautiful black gown. He saw Nishitani's eyes
spark, his lips parting just so. “There,” he continued, “now you seen
it.”

“Majima-kun...” he breathed. “Ya look stunning.” Majima froze
up. He didn't know what to say. What to think. Face unreadable,
Majima took the door, closed it, and locked it tight. Nishitani let out
an audible grunt of confusion. “The hell?” The door jiggled, but
didn't relent. “Whydjya go back so quick?”

Majima shut his eyes, trying desperately to calm the termoil in his
mind. “Go away, Nishitani...” he muttered.

“I'm not leavin',” he responded. “C'mon, Majima-kun. Open the
door for me. I wanna keep lookin' atchya...”

Like a spark, Majima lit up with anger. Flinging open the lock, he
pushed the door wide, and glared at Nishitani fiercely. “Is this what
you wanna see?! Huh?!” He flung out his arms, breathing heavily. “A
one-eyed freak in a dress?!”

“Majima-kun—!”
“I never thought in all my life that I'd be even more of a damn
disgrace, but here I am! Playin' dressup! Years of runnin' the streets,

64

years of takin' shit jobs and crawlin' my way up the ladder, and now
—now—!” Majima's voice cracked, and he reached for the delicate
shawl around his shoulders. “I'm gettin' outta this goddamn thing—!”

“Majima!” Before Majima could rip it off, Nishitani took his wrist,
stopping him. “You ain't a freak for puttin' on a goddamn dress,
alright!? It's okay to like wearing dresses! You think I'm gonna judge
you for it?”

“Get off me, fucker!” Majima yanked his hand away. “I don't give
two shits what you think! I used to be somebody, goddamn it! Fuck, I
was only a grunt, but I had... I had me a family! I had kyodai, I had
purpose! Now... now what the fuck do I have!? Some horny bastard
who just wants to get his rocks off to me in heels!”

“You still are someone ya fuckhead!” Nishitani didn't back down,
and now took ahold of Majima's shoulders, as if to shake some sense
into him. “I know ya miss yer kyodai and I know I ain't him but I'm
doin' my best to make ya feel less lonely!” Nishitani paused. Gently,
he let go of Majima's shoulders. The air settled, and with a breath, he
began again. “In the beginning I'll admit I just wanted to bang ya in a
dress but...seeing you in it... seeing your eye sparkle like that... it
made me change my mind. I just want to see you happy for once.”

But Majima, stalled by Nishitani's sudden honesty, asked the
question that had been on his mind all night. “Why? What's this
fascination you got with me? Alright, ya like me. Fine. But ye're going
so far. You're doin' so much when I ain't worth the shit, in the grand
scheme of things.”

65

“Love makes ya do crazy things, Majima-kun.”
For a while, there was no noise in the boutique. If Majima was in
any state to notice, he would have heard the shop girl desperately
trying not to breathe too hard in the back room so that she could
hear their row easier. Not even the shitty ceiling lights buzzed as
loudly as they should have. Majima felt five inches tall, and his whole
body wobbled. Finally, he spoke. Though it was almost like the word
spoke itself.
“What?”
Nishitani looked away. Ever since they'd met, Majima saw so
many gaudy emotions flit across Nishitani's face. Flirtation, anger,
madness, glee. Never this. A somber, endless stare which aged him
well beyond his years. “Nothin,” he finally said. “If you're gonna take
off the dress then take it off. I ain't dealin' with this anymore.”
Majima swayed where he stood. He barely blinked, realizing the
familiar burn in his eye as tears forced themselves to the surface. “I
think... you'd better leave.” Nishitani didn't say anything else.
Without a second glance, he walked out of the boutique, taking out
his cigarettes in the process. As he left, a cold chill descended upon
the shop. Carefully, the clerk emerged from the back room and
peered into the dressing room.
“Sir...?” she squeaked. “Is everything all right...?”
Majima turned back to the mirror. That brilliance and beauty he
felt was long gone. All that remained was an empty, self-loathing

66

bitter taste in its absence. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly, “but I won't be
purchasing this.”

“O-oh... I understand...” Gently, she closed the door. Majima
stood in silence for a moment, and with heavy hands, let the dress
slip easily from his body.

◈◈◈
Monday morning was a headache and a half. Majima hadn't slept
a wink since returning to his shabby little apartment. Tossing and
turning in the muggy heat, he decided that it was best to just head in
early and maybe get some paperwork done. So, he washed his face,
changed into something decent, and headed out. He figured he
should probably grab something to eat, but to be honest, he didn't
have the stomach for food. He wondered if he should use the
showers at work or just not bother. As nice as a cold shower
sounded, Majima didn't know if he'd have the energy.
Walking down the bridge to The Grand, he paused, half way.
Ahead of him, about ten yards down, was a man in a dark shirt and
bright, pink pants. Majima's heart thudded. Had Nishitani also been
kept awake at night? Maybe he should apologize. After all, Nishitani
went to great lengths to help entertain a part of himself that Majima
was too ashamed to show the world. He stepped forward, and
opened his mouth to call out to him, when the man turned to talk to
someone. Nishitani's name died in Majima's throat. It wasn't him.
Just someone with the same gaudy taste in pants.

67

His heart low, Majima finished his walk to The Grand. He went
through the service entrance and came out through the kitchen. The
Grand was always so strange when it wasn't lit up. Just a big, hallow
crater. No life, no light. Just empty space. Majima was about to head
up the steps, when he caught sight of a maitnenence man mopping
the house floor.

“Tanaka-san,” Majima called. Tanaka, the old janitor who came
with the property, looked up from his mop handle. “You can head on
home. The floors are plenty clean.”

Tanaka smiled. “All right, boss.” He dunked his mop into his
wheeled bucket and started pushing it back towards the kitchen. As
they passed each other, Tanaka seemed to remember something.
“Oh! I took in that delivery this morning.”

“Delivery?” Majima clarified.
“Yeah,” he said. “One of them new dresses you ordered, boss. It's
mighty pretty. Anyway, I took it up to your office, like the delivery
man told me to.”
Majima's gut twisted. “Oh... Thank you, Tanaka-san.”
“Yeah! Don't mention it, boss.” With a whistle, the old janitor
headed into the kitchen. And Majima, his stomach through the floor,
turned his eyes up to his office. His feet were heavy, and grew
heavier with each new step. Reaching the door, he pushed it open.
There, hanging off one of the dividers behind his couches, was the
dress. The dress. Sleeved in plastic, resting delicately for Majima to
find. Majima walked forward. He plucked it from the divider and held

68

it into the light. There was a note pinned to the top of the plastic.
Though he almost didn't want to, he peeled it from its place and
opened it up. In Nishitani's nearly illegable chicken-scratch read the
following:

Smile, Majima-kun.
Majima's throat tightened. All alone, he clutched the gown to his
chest as he fell to his knees. And there he stayed, tenderly craddling
the kindnest gift he'd ever received. His secret, shared with the one
man tender enough to help him carry the burden.
Majima only wished he deserved that kindness.

69

1993
Red Thread

Saejima,
How's the slammer? I'm sorry I never visited. To be
honest, I can't imagine the prison guards wouldn't
throw me into the lockup the moment I tried. Though,
honestly? I'm scared to face you after all that went
down. I know I should be in that cell, right beside you. I
was always ready for that. But I guess fate had other
plans, or some shit.
I'm back in the fold, you know. I'm not sure what
gets to you through those iron bars, but there was this
crazy conspiracy for this tiny plot of land out in
Kamurocho. Shit got hairy. Anyway, I sort of got
tangled up in the whole mess, and in the end, I wound
up on the other side, better than ever. Missing a few
bits, but you know me.
Anyway, you'll never guess what's happening
today. I'm getting promoted. Can you believe that shit?
I guess Shimano has been so impressed with my work
lately that I'm getting my own family. It'll probably be
like ten guys or something, but whatever. Once I rise
up high enough, I'm going to try and get you out of

70

there, brother. And you're getting a fucking hero's
welcome, you mark my words.

I miss you, man. I miss you so fucking much. You
should be here with me today. I wish I had the balls to
send you this letter. I've written so many for you, but
they all go the same way. The fuck is wrong with me,
do you think? Probably a lot. Sometimes I think about
snuffing it, you know. Yeah, I got this promotion. I
fought out of that dark place I was in when Sagawa
had me on a leash. But what's the point of it all?
What's the point if you're not in my life? Don't worry, I
won't. But I can't help it. We were supposed to do this
together, kyodai. You should be my captain, hell,
maybe I should be yours.

I love you, Taiga. I love you more than I love myself.
Which I know isn't a high bar, but still.

Your brother,
Majima.

Majima stared at his words. He'd been reading and rereading the
letter for the past hour. In his mind, he argued with himself
relentlessly. Would this be the one? The one to finally make it into an
envelope and off to Saejima's cell? His fingers tingled, and he realized
that he'd let his cigarette burn all the way down to the filter. Majima
pushed it into the ash tray and sighed. It was almost 3pm. His party

71

started half an hour ago. Frankly, Majima didn't really feel like going.
It didn't feel right, getting all this praise when someone like Saejima
was stuck behind bars.

But there was no use crying over spilled beer, right?
Knock knock. “Majima-aniki! Are you in there? Sir!” Majima
soured. Of course the powers that be would send some kind of green
horn subordinate to pull him out of his hole if he took too long.
“Fuck off!” he barked. “I'm still gettin' dressed.”
“Yes, sir,” the newbie responded. “It's just that Patriarch Shimano
is starting to get frustrated. He said that if you didn't come
downstairs soon, he'd drag you down.”
Majima scoffed. “Of course he did... Tell the bald fucker I'll be
down in ten.” Majima could hear the bustle of guests beneath his
floor. It'd been very kind of Chairman Sera to host Majima's coming
out party in Tojo HQ, not that Majima asked for the favor. He sighed
deeply and turned back to the letter.
After a moment of thought, he held his lighter to the edge of the
page, and let it burn to a crisp on the table. Not bothering to do
much else other than throw on his jacket, he stepped out of the
room and into the hall, where his underling escort was waiting.
Majima cocked an eyebrow. “The fuck are you still up here for?” he
asked.
“Patriarch Shimano told me to make sure you came down,” he
explained. He was a mousy fucker, about a head and a half shorter
than Majima himself. He had beady, pinched in eyes, and hunched as

72

he stood to make himself even less threatening. “So I figured I'd stick
around until you were ready.”

“Mm.” Majima shoved his hands into his pockets, and the two
headed towards the staircase. “I guess old habits die hard...”

“Sir?”
Majima shook his head. They paused half way down the stairs,
and he turned to his entourage. “So you got a name or what,
pissant?”
“Oh, me, sir? It's Nishida.”
“There you are!” The bellowing rumble of Shimano rocked the
earth, and Majima turned to his old boss, his arms outstretched in a
welcome gesture. He grinned as Majima and Nishida approached. “I
was worried you were about to bounce from your own goddamn
party.”
“Thought about it,” Majima replied, coolly. “But I never turn
down free liquor.”
Shimano laughed deeply and swat Majima's back. Majima kept
his expression unreadable. Amazing what a few years could do for a
guy. It wasn't that long ago that Majima was little more than a
prisoner, locked up and tortured under Shimano's orders. But hey, it
was the business.
Despite Majima's new duds, Shimano hadn't changed much since
1988. He was still big and boisterous, with the same bald head and
gaping mouth. Shimano always reminded Majima of some kind of
freakishly smooth bull. “Well come on then. We might as well get the

73

official shit out of the way before we celebrate.” His shovel hand on
Majima's shoulder, Shimano walked him into the grand ball room,
where many of the officers were waiting. Nishida, Majima noticed,
wasn't far behind, even though his assignment was done with. He
must be the kind of guy who didn't leave unless he was dismissed.

“Third Chairman!” Shimano announced. A man near the front
turned at his call. “Look who finally showed up!”

“Ah.” Chairman Sera's eyes fell to Majima's. “Good of you to join
us, Majima-san. Or shall I call you Patriarch Majima from now on?”

“Majima will do fine,” he replied.
Sera nodded. “Fair enough.” A waiter walked by and filled his
empty glass. The Chairman had always been a handsome guy. Well
groomed, ironed suit, steely eyes. In some ways, Sera always
reminded Majima of a feudal lord of some kind; of course, it helped
that the first time they met was in the middle of an old fashioned
castle. “So? Where is your hakama? Don't tell me you intend on
taking your vows in that.” “That” being the open faced snakeskin
jacket, tight leather pants and a pair of pointy, metal tipped boots.
“No offense, Third Chairman,” said Majima, “but that stuffy outfit
don't really match me, you know? If I'm getting my own family, I'll be
running it honestly.”
Shimano glowered. “What kind of attitude is that? Are you really
so arrogant that you're going to spit in the face of tradition—?”
“It's all right, Shimano-san,” said Sera. “It's not my preference,
truthfully, but I can appreciate a man who is faithful to who he is.”

74

Clearly, Shimano wanted to argue. However, despite the fact that
Sera only recently became Chairman, he was still leagues above
Shimano in rank. And so, the patriarch held his tongue. Sera, his eyes
tilting over Majima's shoulder, noticed Nishida, awkwardly hovering
by the three like a timid ghost. “And who is this?” he asked.

Nishida jumped out of his skin. He bowed his head frantically,
wringing his hands together. “Ah! Third Chairman! I—I'm not worthy
of your attention—”

“You're still here?” Shimano asked. He pushed Nishida's head
away, almost knocking him over. “We're done with you. Go on, get,
Nishida. Go find something useful to do.”

“Y-yes sir—”
“Wait.” All three of them paused and turned to Majima, who kept
his eye locked on Shimano's baffled expression. “He's my captain. I
want him front and center for the ceremony.” None of them were
more shocked than Nishida himself, who looked like he just shat 24
karat gold.
“Your captain,” Shimano repeated.
“That's right.”
“You're not even a patriarch yet.”
“But when I am, don't I get one of those?”
“Well... yes, but—”
“Great.” Majima gestured to Nishida. “There we go. First in line
for the job. Congratulations, Nishiyaki.”
“Nishida, sir.”

75

“Right.”
Sera, despite the chaos, chuckled against his glass. His eyes lit up
as he looked between the pair of them. “I have a feeling,” he said,
“that you will leave the Tojo Clan's most interesting legacy, Majima-
san.” The doors to the ballroom opened, and Sera lifted his head. “Or
perhaps... the second most interesting.” Majima turned to follow his
gaze.
The guests of the day's event were starting to funnel in in groups,
finding their seats. Leading the pack were a pair of patriarchs in their
own right: Kazama and Dojima. Both total opposites in equal
measure. And behind them were some of their closest men. One in
particular stood out. He was tall, broad shouldered, and had a face
like a cinder block. He wore a striking gray suit and a wine red shirt
underneath. His large shoes had a snakeskin pattern, much like
Majima's jacket. But what struck Majima the most was his eyes. They
were piercing and dark, transfixed on the point ahead of them. Like
the eyes of an old painting. As he sat down beside Patriarch Dojima,
Majima realized that he'd seen those eyes before.
Kiryu Kazuma.
“Well then?” Sera turned to Majima. “The seats are filling up. We
should begin.”
“Right.” Majima followed Sera to the side of the stage, with
Nishida not far behind. Shimano had taken his seat next to Kazama,
and all the while, Majima kept stealing glances at where Kiryu sat.
“Hey... Third Chairman?”

76

“Hm?” Sera turned as a man brought a tanto and a silk pillow up
to the stage. “What is it?”

“That guy there. Kiryu, right?”
Sera turned and spotted the hulk of a man, who was sitting
quietly, hands on his knees. “Wondering if the rumors are true?”
“Rumors?”
“Don't you know, sir?” Nishida butt in. “Out in Kamurocho, they
call him the Dragon of Dojima. He's supposed to be incredible.”
“Is he...” While Majima pondered, Sera turned away to get the
ceremony ready. Majima turned to Nishida. “Do me a favor,
greenhorn. After the ceremony is over with, I want you to tell me
everything you know about that Kiryu guy.”
“Eh? I mean, sure, but... why?” Majima took his time to answer.
Kiryu, after a moment, seemed to feel that he was being watched. He
turned, and finally, they locked eyes. Deja vu hit Majima like a truck.
Suddenly, he was back in Osaka, staring down from his office window
of The Grand, watching this young 20 year old wander off into the
night.
“Because, Nishida,” he finally responded, “I feel the presence of a
red thread.”

◈◈◈
“...So after that, he and his buddy Nishikiyama fought through the
whole city just to make sure that the lot's heir got to see her brother
before he died. I don't know the specifics, but the whole Clan talks
about it like it's some kind of urban legend. I mean, I wasn't around

77

during that time, but to hear some of the older guys tell it,
sometimes I wonder what's true and what isn't.” Nishida, taking a
drink of his watered down cocktail, paused to gage Majima's
reaction. “Boss...?”

Majima had been silent during Nishida's retelling of Kiryu's
legacy. All the while, he toyed with the ceremonial tanto that Sera
had given him after the inaguration. Most patriarchs kept their
blades locked away or in a fancy display case once they were
promoted. However, Majima knew good steel when he saw it.
Currently, it was out of its sheath, and balancing on the tip of its
blade, burrowing into the bar top. Majima let it spin under the
pressure of his finger, watching the light glint off the folded metal.
“So... you protected Makoto, huh...?” he breathed.

“Boss?” Nishida said again.
Majima pulled the tanto from the bar and sheathed it. “Is that all
you know?” he asked.
Nishida nodded. “If I find out anything else, I'll tell you.”
“Good man.” He made a move to leave the bar, when Nishida
held out his hand to stop him.
“Erm... sir? Can I ask you something?”
“Hm?” Majima turned to him. “Shoot.”
“Well uh... why me?” Majima blinked. “You just... kinda promoted
me for no reason.”
Majima gave Nishida a half smile. “Because of Patriarch
Shimano.”

78

“Shimano-san?”
“Yeah. I knew if I picked a captain without a second thought, it'd
piss him off.”
Nishida blinked. “O...oh...”
Majima slapped Nishida's back, his grin widdening. “Though
don't think I won't expect the most from you, Nishida-kun! Do your
best!”
Nishida flushed. “R-right—!” With one last nod, Majima turned
and wandered deeper into the party. After the ceremony, the Tojo
Clan spread out among the grounds, drinking and enjoying the
evening. All the while, Majima scanned the crowd. A few faces he
recognized, most that he did not. Some approached him to
congratulate the new promotion. Others tried to schmooze to get
into his good graces. Either way, Majima was interested in none of
them. He had only one goal: find Kiryu Kazuma.
Fortunately, he didn't have to look long.
“Yo, Kiryu!” A new voice caught Majima's attention. A man about
Kiryu's age and build waved to someone on Majima's left. He wore a
white suit, with long hair kept loose around his handsome face.
Majima could have sworn on his life that he'd seen this guy
somewhere before. Probably at the end of his baseball bat, most
likely. But that was neither here nor there.
Majima glanced over his shoulder. There was Kiryu, enjoying a
drink by himself. Neither one of them noticed Majima as the

79

handsome guy approached. “I'm thinking about splitting. Kazama-san
said we could go eat if we're bored. Not much to do now anyway.”

Kiryu finished his whiskey and turned to his friend. “Sure,” he said
with a nod. That voice rang true. There was no doubt about it; this
was that same, wide eyed kid that came to The Grand in Kuze's
entourage. The same one who politely refused a hostess, and the
same one who left Majima with a strange fuzz in his stomach. “What
were you thinking? Ramen?”

“Sounds good, man. How about karaoke after? At Serena?”
“Okay.”
Majima stayed where he was, hidden among the crowd. The pair
of them got up, with Kiryu leaving a sizable tip for the bartender, and
walked out of Tojo HQ, chatting all the way. Majima didn't know why
he felt the urge to remain unseen. Maybe it was that old paranoia
rearing its ugly head. More likely, however, was the fact that Majima
wasn't interested in interacting. At least, not yet. He wanted to sit
back. See who this “dragon” really was. Making sure there wasn't
anyone vying for his attention, Majima grabbed a random black
overcoat from the front check counter, threw it on over his get-up,
and followed.
As they caught a taxi, Majima couldn't make out where they were
going. However, if he had heard correctly, they would end up at a
place called “Serena.” No doubt a bar, and one that sounded oddly
familiar. Majima was sure he knew where it was. Catching a cab
himself, he headed into Kamurocho. Sliding into the city, Majima

80

wasn't sure if he liked it any better than Osaka. There wasn't a
polluted river to contend with, and he was far away from the clutches
of The Grand, but there were certainly things he missed. Things like
the local seafood, or the rushing crowds. Though he guessed Tokyo
wasn't in want for that. Majima had the cab pause outside of a bar
named Vincent and paid his fare. Once he was out, he helped himself
to a smoke and looked around. To his left, he spotted a lady of the
evening resting against the wall of the bar. She looked bored, and just
what Majima needed.

“Excuse me, darlin',” he said with a smile. “How much for a
night?”

“A whole night?” She looked Majima up and down. While she
profiled Majima, Majima profiled her. Probably early thirties. Dyed
and damaged hair. Her dress was out of style, and her coat was cheap
trying to look expensive. Those heels had definitely seen better days,
too. “I'll take a hundred.”

“Thousand?” Majima whistled. “Tell you what, sugar, I just got a
promotion at work. I'll take you up on it.”

“Sounds good to me.” She pushed off the wall and took Majima's
arm. “So? What hotel we going to, hun? Or do you want to head on
home?”

“Oh, I thought I could take you out first. Show you a good time,
what do you think?”

Her face lit up. “Well how about that? It's rare to get a gentleman
these days. Sure. What were you thinking?”

81

“Why don't we grab a bite to eat first? Where's a good ramen
place in this town?” Majima thought a moment. What food would a
guy like Kiryu gravitate towards? “Nothing high end. Something the
locals might go to.”

“Awwwe, I was in the mood for barbeque.” Still, she relented, and
tapped her chin. “A local place, huh...? I guess there's Kyushu.”

“Perfect. Let's try it.” They began to walk. “After, what do you say
to drinks? Karaoke?”

“Boy you really are treating me to a good time.”
“Ever hear of a bar called Serena? Any good?”
“Sure, I know that place. Kind of a hole in the wall though. Are
you sure?”
“Positive.” Majima put his hand on her lower back. “By the way...
what do you call yourself, hun?”
She smiled. “You can call me Candy.”
“Candy?” Majima replied with a grin. “American name?”
“It makes me interesting. Come on, I'm hungry.”

◈◈◈
Kyushu No. 1 Star Ramen wasn't exactly the hotest noodle bar in
Kamurocho. With it's horrible location down a narrow alley, there
was almost no tourist foot traffic that went through its doors.
However, the locals did their part to keep it open through the years,
especially those heading off to the pawn shop to sell off some
dubiously aquired items, no questions asked. It was here that Kiryu
and Nishiki settled in for a night of beer and noodles.

82

Taking their usual corner table, they laughed over two massive
bowls of chashu ramen, each one of them with a mug of frosty cold
beer to spare. So many years by each other's side, and yet, there
were things that never changed between them. Hopefully, they never
would. As they ate, people came and went, lingering for a meal and
taking their leave. There weren't many who took their time in a place
like this. About an hour into their meal, they relaxed for a smoke.
Nishiki leaned against his chair, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“So,” he began. “This new patriarch. Know anything about him?”
“Hm.” Kiryu ran his nail against his heavyset jaw. “Not much,” he
said. “I know he was somehow involved with the empty lot, but
that's all.”
“Really? Do you think he was with Tachibana?”
Kiryu shook his head. “No. If I got my information right, I think he
was the one who was keeping an eye on Makato-chan.”
“Huh. Well then he must not be all that bad.”
“He must not be,” Kiryu agreed. He took a smoke and sipped his
beer. “Kind of a weird looking guy though.”
“Boy I'll say,” Nishiki laughed. “I take back all the times I teased
you over that white suit. At least you had the decency not to pick
something you can see from space.”
Kiryu ashed his cigarette. “Oh I don't know,” he said, thoughtfully.
“I mean, it's weird, definitely, but I can appreciate when someone is
that authentically themselves.”
“You think a guy who dresses like that is authentic?”

83

“Sure. Why not?”
Nishiki shook his head with a laugh. “Yeah, okay.” He downed the
last remains of his beer and stood, patting his full belly. “All right,
come on. Yumi's probably waiting for us at the bar.”
“Okay.”
Paying the remainder of their tab, they headed out into the city.
Nishiki sighed in satisfaction, hands laced behind their head. “Man!”
he sighed. “I could eat junk food every day, I swear...”
“You do eat junk food every day,” Kiryu reminded him. “You're
going to die at a young age if you keep it up, you know. At least learn
to cook some vegetables.”
Nishiki scoffed. “Since when did you start cooking? Last I checked
you're in the same boat...”
But Kiryu shook his head. “I've been trying to cook more at home.
Save a little money.”
“Save money? Bro. You're one of Dojima's top collectors. The hell
do you have to save up for?”
Kiryu shrugged. “You never know.” They turned the corner, and
Kiryu got a strange sensation up his spine. He paused, and Nishiki
rounded to him with a look of concern.
“Eh? What's up?”
Kiryu was quiet a moment longer, his eyes on the crowd. Finally,
he relented, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “It's nothing. Let's
go.” Despite not stopping a second time, there was no shaking that
tingly feeling in his neck. It took everything in him not to constantly

84

check over his shoulder. He did what he could to look at reflections in
store windows and on car windshields. Each and every time, he
caught a glimpse of someone looking their way. Someone they
couldn't shake, no matter how many times they changed direction.

They were being followed.
When they arrived at Serena, Kiryu was sure not to act
suspicious. Rena and Yumi were there, as usual, and they all shared a
drink, and Yumi insisted on an immediate round of karaoke. However,
Kiryu's mind was preoccupied. Not wanting to worry his friends, he
excused himself to the back fire escape for some fresh air. As he
exited through the back door, he heard voices down in the alley
below.
“...isn't actually about showing me a good time, is it, hun?” Kiryu
looked over the railing. Down below was a man in a long black coat
and sunglasses, speaking to a prostitute. So far, he wasn't noticed.
“What are those two guys to you, anyway?”
“I don't know what you mean.”
“Oh come on. What other reason would we hang out in that
ramen bar for hours? You barely even said a word to me. Or ate
anything. You were listening in on their conversation the entire time.”
Kiryu went rigid; that was all the confirmation he needed. He began
to descend the stairs. “Listen, mister, this is getting into some sketchy
territory. I don't need any trouble.”

85

“Don't be like that,” the man pleaded. “Look, I just gotta get up to
that bar and not draw attention, that's all. Don't you want that
hundred grand? Huh? I don't even want to sleep with you, lady.”

“Yeah, and that's the weird part!”
“Excuse me.”
By the time Kiryu interrupted their conversation, he was at the
bottom of the steps, and street level to the pair of them. The woman
looked up, but the man in the coat kept his back turned. Kiryu spoke
again. “If she doesn't want to entertain you any more tonight, you
should respect her wishes.”
Worriedly, the woman looked between the two men. “I... I should
go.” Fortunately, the man in the coat didn't stop her, and she scuttled
away, leaving them alone together.
“Who are you?” Kiryu demanded. “Why were you following us?
What do you want?” The man in the coat took off his sunglasses and
turned to face Kiryu. Underneath was a distinctive eye patch and a
devilish expression. Kiryu knew the face immediately, and threw up
his eyebrows. “Patriarch Majima?”
“Please.” Majima waved off the name. “I don't think I'll ever get
used to that. We're brothers-in-arms, ain't we, Kiryu-chan? No
matter what rank.”
Kiryu stalled. “I guess...” He glanced up at the bar and back down
at his unsuspecting guest. “Why are you following us around?”
“You know you are one clever boy.” Majima tapped his sunglasses
against his palm. “I thought I'd been had back there on the street.

86

That buddy of yours didn't even catch a whiff of me.” He paused. “He
your kyodai?”

Kiryu nodded. “He is. We swore our oaths together.”
A strange look overcame Majima's eye. It was gone as soon as it
had come, and he split into a smile. “Ain't that sweet?”
“Listen, I don't want to be rude,” Kiryu began again, “but if there's
something you need, please tell me. My friends are waiting upstairs.”
“Precious,” said Majima. “You seem real close to them friends,
eh? Especially your kyodai.” Majima paced, pondering more to
himself than to Kiryu. “Maybe that's why... Maybe it's because you're
like him...”
“Like who?” Kiyru clarified.
Majima stopped and turned to him. “Back in 88, you were
involved with the empty lot drama, weren't you?”
Kiryu hesitated. “Yes... I heard you were part of that, too, right?”
“I was. Though from what I understand, we were on different
ends.” Majima removed his stolen coat and dropped it to the ground,
and the sunglasses with it. “Tell me something. Did you ever run into
a girl named Makimura Makoto?”
“I did.”
“And how did you treat her?”
That caught Kiryu off guard. “Huh?”
“How did you treat her? Did you take care of her? Keep her
safe?”

87

“I...” Kiryu paused. “I kept her as safe as I could. All she wanted
was to see her brother. I tried but... I failed her. I was too late, in the
end.” He lifted his head. “What was your relation to her?”

Majima stared at the neon light bleeding into the overcast sky. “I
was hired to kill her.”

Kiryu's eyes narrowed. “What?”
“The Tojo Clan wanted her dead. See, with her out of the way,
that empty lot would be up for grabs. Real easy land grab at that
point.”
“So... you tried to murder her? Is that what we're getting at
here?”
Majima turned back to Kiryu, his face nearly unreadable. “How'd
you feel if I had?” he asked. “I'm your superior now. I could find her
today and blow her head off and you could do fuck all about it.”
Kiryu was starting to boil. “Why are you telling me this?”
Majima came closer to Kiryu. Before long, it was easy to see that
they were the same impressive height, but Kiryu was definitely much
wider between them. “Because I want to see what kind of a man you
are,” said Majima. “Furthermore... what was your motive for helping
her? Hm? Were you hoping to get a little reward on the side for your
good deed?”
Kiryu sneered with disgust. “Only a sleaze would pull something
like that. I helped her because she needed help.”
“And you're just such a good guy, is that it?”

88

“Is this conversation going somewhere?” Kiryu clenched his fists.
“Because all you've done so far is said some gross things and insulted
me.”

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about that?” Majima prodded
between Kiryu's eyebrows. “You gonna take a swing? At a superior? I
could stand here calling you and your friends the most worthless
cumstains on Earth and all you'd have the guts to do would be to sit
there and growl. You're all bark. No bite. Just like every one of you
collector dogs. You fuckers have no teeth. Y'know... I wonder who's
the bigger piece of shit... You...? Or that fag boyfriend of yours?”

WHA-BAM!
In the blink of an eye, Kiryu launched his thick skull forward, and
made contact with the bridge of Majima's nose. Majima flailed
backwards, his arms windmilling, and collided with a pile of trash
cans behind him. When he stopped seeing stars, Kiryu had grabbed
him by the lapels of his jacket, and with a hearty throw, launched him
head first into a collection of parked bicycles. Majima tumbled to the
ground and laid flat on his back. But rather than turn his ire against
the attacking underling, Majima laughed. He laughed loud and deep,
tasting the blood from his broken nose.
“Excellent... fuckin'... excellent!” Majima hopped to his feet and
wiped the blood from his face. His eye was wild and bright, and Kiryu
could see something flash within his jacket pocket. “Now that's what
I've been missin', Kiryu-chan. A good old fashioned fight!”
“You're crazy.”

89

“You're damn straight!” Majima pulled out a deadly knife and
twirled it in his gloved fingers. “I heard tales about you... Heard your
nickname. The whole Clan thinks you're somethin' special.”

“Kiryu!” Above them, Nishiki burst through the back door, alerted
by the sounds of the fight. “What's happening down there—?”

“It's fine, Nishiki.”
“Hey! Eyes on me!” Majima yanked his gloves off with his teeth,
and with one fell swoop, pulled his jacket from his shoulders. Kiryu,
realizing that the fight was on, did the same. There they were, souls
on display for all the world to see. Majima tilted his neck, cracking it
loudly, his grin utterly feral. “I want to see if you're a real dragon,
Kiryu Kazuma!”
And thus, it began. Majima launched forward, Kiryu throwing up
his arms just in time to block a hit. Majima moved with a fluid
ferocity Kiryu had never experienced before. At first, all he could do
was block any and all oncoming attacks. Finally, after losing a few feet
of ground, Kiryu saw his opening, and managed to hit back. A good
kick sent the young patriarch flying, though this time, he landed on
his feet.
Majima skid to a stop, only to pick up again and run for Kiryu, full
tilt, with his knife leading the way. Kiryu rolled in the nick of time,
though the sharp edge of the steel managed to cut into his side.
However, he had no time to agonize over the pain, and instead
focused on getting Majima disarmed.

90

Grabbing his wrist, Kiryu pinned Majima to the wall of the alley
way. With all his might, he slammed his hand against the brick until
he dropped the thing. Kiryu kicked it out of reach. Snorting like a bull,
Kiryu demanded: “Are you done yet?!”

Majima smiled wildly. His long legs wrapped around Kiryu's waist,
and he tugged. In an amazing display of core strength, he managed
to knock Kiryu off his balance. Once he was free of the wall, Majima
actually looped around Kiryu and ended up latched onto his back. He
locked his head into his arms and squeezed. While Kiryu struggled to
throw him off, Majima looked on with never ending delight. “You
sure don't like givin' up, do you, ya big lug?!”

“UGHN!” Kiryu summoned all his strength and ran towards the
vending machines. Before Majima could disengage, Kiryu flipped

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around, landing Majima into the bright front of the soda machine.
Sparks lit up the alley, but fortunately, the blow wasn't fatal. Majima
cried out, and Kiryu managed to peel off his arm. With a twist and a
flip, he was on the ground, Kiryu's heel dug straight in between his
shoulder blades. “Tap out!”

But Majima wasn't done. With a twist of his legs, he managed to
roll out from under Kiryu's foot and launch his own straight into
Kiryu's solar plexus. Kiryu wobbled, and Majima took the chance to
send a few good hooks his way. The first two landed, but the third
was Majima's biggest mistake. As those knuckles flew, Kiryu caught
them and squeezed. Majima realized then that if he wanted, Kiryu
could easily have broken every bone in his hand. Fortunately, all he
did was tug his arm forward, and launch his knee directly into
Majima's gut.

Majima gasped, dripping with sweat, with every ounce of energy
drained from his body all at once. With no more fight left in him,
Majima collapsed onto his knees. Kiryu raised his fist for the finishing
blow, but Majima held up his hand for mercy. Kiryu never struck.

“All right!” he gasped. His breath harsh in his lungs, Majima lifted
his head. He smiled, weakly. “You win, big guy... you win...”

Kiryu lowered his fist. “What... was the point of all that...?” he
panted.

Majima pushed himself to his feet. “I had to see... what kinda
man you were... Kiryu-chan...” He took a step, but his legs, aching
from the fight, gave way. He stumbled forward, and Kiryu held out an

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arm, catching him before he collapsed. Majima's face grew soft. “I...
think I need a drink.”

“Yeah... okay. Can you walk?”
“Sorta...”
Kiryu glanced up at the top of the stairs, where Nishikiyama was
still watching in awe. “Bro,” he said. “Isn't that...?”
“Yeah,” said Kiryu. “Can you tell Rena to grab the med pack?”
After Nishiki went inside, Kiryu hoisted Majima's arm over his
shoulder, and without a word of complaint, walked him up three
flights until they were at Bar Serena.
The bar itself was cozy. A quaint little place for close friends to
grab a drink and talk in private. Kiryu brought Majima to one of the
corner tables, and once Rena the bar mama brought the first aid,
they patched themselves up. For a while, they sat in silence. Nishiki
clearly had some questions, but Majima didn't feel like answering
them. So, with a couple drinks in hand, they ruminated on the
evening.
“I never tried to kill Makoto.” It was the first thing Majima said in
an hour. Kiryu, who was checking on the bandage on his side, looked
up. Majima stared deep into his glass. “As a matter of fact... I risked
everything I had to try and keep her out of danger. It didn't work
though. She almost died because I was too slow. I watched it
happen.”
Kiryu leaned his elbows on his knees. “How?”

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“She thought she could handle the Tojo Clan on her own. Use her
ownership of the empty plot for leverage. She took a bullet for all her
trouble.”

“I see.” Kiryu watched the ice in his glass shift. “But... you said
'almost.'”

Majima nodded. “It's a miracle she lived after that.” He took a
swig of his drink and leaned back against the plush booth seating. “I
rushed her to the hospital as fast as I could. Those doctors saved her
life.”

“So she's safe?”
“For now,” said Majima. “And I've taken steps to make sure she
never gets mixed up in this business ever again.”
“So what was all that about down there?” Kiryu pried. “Were you
trying to see if I was a danger to her?”
Majima paused. “I... no.”
“Then what?”
Majima rubbed the base of his neck. “I guess I...” He laughed,
softly. “I felt the thread.”
“The what?”
Majima took another drink. “This has been fun. I should be
getting back to HQ. They're probably wondering where I ran off to.”
Kiryu frowned. “You're welcome to stay if you want to, Majima-
no-niisan.”
Majima locked eyes with Kiryu. Kiryu didn't look away. “Call me
nuts,” he said, “but you almost look worried.”

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Kiryu's brow softened. “Yeah, well... you don't really seem in the
greatest state of mind. I guess I just don't want you getting yourself
hurt.”

Majima cocked his head. “Didn't you just back me up into a
vending machine?”

“Er... well yeah but...”
A silence settled over their conversation. The longer it went on,
the wider Majima's smile became. He chuckled, and set his empty
glass on the table. “I see... She must have felt so safe with you.”
“You're a weird guy, Majima. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“A few, yeah.”
“Hm.”
Majima propped his chin in his hand, smile still present. “Do you
mind weird people, Kiryu-chan?”
Kiryu thought about his answer before shaking his head. “Not
really,” he said. “So long as they're not bad people.”
Again, Majima laughed. “You realize you're a goddamn criminal?”
“True,” said Kiryu, “but that's no excuse to cause trouble for
people who don't deserve it. Like you.”
“Like me?”
“If I had to guess... I think you were testing me down there. Like
you wanted to see if you'd still get challenged now that you're in this
position of power. I don't think you're the type of guy to get
complacent. More than that, if you really have heard of me, like you
said, you probably wanted to see if I'm what the rumors say. Or

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maybe you just wanted to make sure you're not getting soft, I don't
know.”

Majima's lid lowered. “One hell of a guess,” he said.
Kiryu shrugged. “Am I wrong?”
“Not a lick.” After a few more moments of silence, Majima stood
and stretched his back. “That was a fun fight, wasn't it? We should do
this again some time. So long as you're up for it... Dragon of Dojima.”
Kiryu lingered, but then, a smile blossomed on his face. He stood,
and held out his hand. Majima took it with his own, and they shook.
“You know where to find me,” he said. With that, Majima nodded at
the others before taking his leave. Nishikiyama was still having
trouble picking his jaw up from the floor.
“Kiryu!” he finally hissed. “Motherfucker... that was... you... he
was...!”
“Yeah!”
“Are you crazy!?” Nishiki practically pulled his hair out of his
head. “That was a patriarch! You totally kicked his ass and—Oh fuck,
if he goes to Dojima, you're screwed!”
But Kiryu didn't seem worried. “I think I'll be fine.”
“How can you be sure?!” Yumi asked desperately. “Didn't that get
you in trouble last time?! Fighting your superiors?!”
Kiryu turned to them with a smile. “Didn't you hear him? He
wants to do it again. I think I made his night.”
Rena, face full of worry, walked out from behind the bar and held
a wet rag to Kiryu's split lip. “Made his night... What kind of thinking

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is that?” Yet, despite the lecture, Kiryu couldn't lose his smile. He
knew it didn't make sense. Hell, if he was pressed to explain it, he
doubt he ever could. It was a sort of... feeling. A kind of mutual
respect between the two of them, despite having just met. A
language that only they could speak. Kiryu didn't know why or how...
but he understood.

That night, when he finally went to sleep, he wondered when he
could fight Majima Goro again.

97

2005
The Color of grief

“...Officials are now saying the disaster was not linked to any
terrorist organization, but that there was a malfunction within the
heating system of the Millenium Tower, triggering the explosion.
There’s no word yet as to the mysterious fallen money, as nearly a
week after the tragedy, there has been no claimant to the funds. In
other news—”

Kiryu stared, dead eyed, at the television. It was nearly six in the
morning, though his brain hadn’t registered the sunrise yet. He knew
it wasn’t healthy to obsessively watch the coverage of the
Millennium Tower explosion, but he couldn’t bear to look away. Every
single story that came out gave him one excuse after another. Faulty
wiring, a gas leak, early demolition, extremists. Never once did the
real story make its way on the airwaves. Chairman Terada must have
been keeping a tight lid on the whole thing. Obviously, that was best
for the Tojo, and probably best for Kamurocho. A city wide panic
about yakuza infighting was the last thing Tokyo needed. But Kiryu
couldn’t help feel bitter about it all. In a single night, Kiryu lost his
entire family, but in the eyes of the world, they didn’t even exist.

Kiryu took a beer can and shook it. Just a little left. He polished it
off. His apartment was in a sorry state, and had been for the last
week. Despite taking Haruka into his brand new apartment, he

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hadn’t had the will to tidy the place up much. The severance package
from being Fourth Chairman afforded him a fine, two bedroom flat
just outside the perimeter of Kamurocho, which kept Haurka out of
any potential trouble from Tojo fallout. In that week since the
explosion, Kiryu made sure that Haruka was taken care of; fed,
washed, clothed, etc. But as for himself? He’d been all but lost since
it happened.

He could still see Nishiki’s face as he stepped into that vault,
ready to pull the trigger. Still felt the heat of the explosives as he,
Yumi and Haruka hid behind a steel beam, barely making it out alive.
And if that wasn’t enough of a knife in his heart, he watched as Yumi,
his sister, his love, died in his arms, in front of her own child. He
hadn’t had a decent night of sleep since, and wasn’t sure if he would
ever again.

“Uncle Kaz…?” A gentle voice pulled him from his thoughts, and
he turned. Haruka, looking even smaller in her over-sized sleep shirt,
wandered out, rubbing her eyes.

Immediately, Kiryu switched off the TV. “Haruka.” He put out any
lit cigarettes as she sat next to him. “You’re up early.” In a way that
was so like a child, Haruka curled up against his thick arm. Without a
second thought, Kiryu held her close, giving her shoulder a gentle
squeeze. “Something wrong?”

“I had another nightmare.”
Kiryu’s heart wrenched. “I see… I’m sorry.” Kiryu pet her messy
hair. “How do you feel?”

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Haruka sniffed. “Not good.”
“Oh. Well, that’s all right. You’re allowed to feel not good.”
Haruka lifted her head, and Kiryu’s gut twisted as he saw tears in
her eyes. “Can we see them again today?”
Kiryu nodded. “Of course, Haruka.” Kiryu looked around. “Maybe
we should eat something before we go…” He paused. “Actually… Why
don’t we make a picnic?”
“Picnic?”
Kiryu nodded. “It’s a nice day out. We’ll make some sandwiches
and go have lunch with both of them. How does that sound?”
Haruka managed a tearful smile. “Can we make tomago, too?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” Haruka hugged Kiryu tight around the middle, and he
cradled her tiny frame. He was still new to this, really. Haruka was
definitely one tough cookie, but she was still a kid. Kiryu wished that
he was better prepared to raise a child, though so far, he’d managed
fine. While Haruka dressed, Kiryu forced himself to shower and
throw on a clean pair of pants. He scolded himself for being so lax on
keeping the house clean, but it was enough of an effort just to make
sure Haruka was cared for. Frankly, if she wasn’t in his life, Kiryu
wasn’t sure if he’d be willing to do anything but sleep and drink.
Once he was dressed, he pushed aside the dirty dishes from the
counter and found the last few clean pieces of tupperware.
Scavenging his kitchen, he found both the fridge and the cupboards
depressingly bare. He had enough bread and lunch meat to make a

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