Love of a Lifetime

With a smile, Haruka nodded. “You're right. That does sound
nice.” After all, being the closest to her in age, Ayako was the only
one Haruka could see herself confiding in. “Let me go grab my purse.”
Ditching her apron, they put on their shoes and stepped out into the
sunlight. Yuta looked up as Haruka passed. “We're going for a walk,”
Haruka said. “We'll be back.”

“Ah, all right.” Yuta swept Haruto into his arms and approached
them. “Don't be long. Haruto doesn't like being away from mommy
too much.”

“I promise.” Haruka hesitated. Her eyes lingered on Yuta for a
moment, and she felt a familiar pull between them. Instead of
leaning forward, Haruka kissed Haruto's forehead. With a wave, she
and Ayako left the property and walked down the road to the north.

“So...” Ayako stretched her arms behind her. “Are you guys finally
together or what?”

“Ayako...!”
“We're all waiting for it to happen, Oneechan. We know you love
him. And he's such a good daddy to Haruto. Why haven't you two
made it official yet?”
Haruka sighed and they turned a corner. Waiting for them was a
small white cart, a selection of ice creams and popcicles advertised
on the side. “I don't think Yuta-kun wants it,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“You know how we sleep in the same room? For Haruto?” They
stopped at the cart and pulled out their wallets. “He sleeps on a

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different futon. And when we're alone together, sometimes it's like
he's afraid to touch me.” She turned to the ice cream man, and they
each ordered what they wanted. A vanilla cone for Haruka, and a
fruit pop for Ayako. Taking their treats, they walked over to a knee
high wall and sat, looking out into the ocean. “Every time I try and
ask about it, he shies away. It drives me crazy.”

“Maybe he's trying to be respectful,” Ayako suggested.
“He's always respectful,” Haruka said. “I just wish...” She took a
bite of her ice cream before letting out a frustrated groan.
“Sometimes, I almost wish he wasn't!” she finally admitted.
“Haruka!” Ayako laughed. “What does that even mean?”
“Oh you know...” She held her cone up to her lips and gently
swayed her shoulders. “When a guy takes initiative? How he'll swoop
in for a surprise kiss or even take you on a date out of nowhere?
Yuta-kun is so gentle with me. It's like he's afraid I'm going to break!
Like glass...”
“Have you talked to him about it?”
Haruka shook her head. “He gets embarrassed so easily. I think
it's because of how much he respected Uncle Kaz...” Haruka
hesitated.
She and Yuta had decided together to keep Kiryu's life a secret to
the other kids. It was better than taking the risk, just in case there
was foul play. “He wasn't like this before he knew who Uncle Kaz was.
But after they met, he's like a whole different person.” She took
another bite of her ice cream. “I wish he understood that I'm not a

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porcelain doll or whatever. I wouldn't even mind if he...” Haruka's
words trailed off, and her cheeks grew hot. Embarrassed, she put a
hand to one side of her face. “I mean, we wouldn't. Not with Haruto
in the room. But you know... We haven't done it since he was born
and...”

Ayako's whole face flushed and she stared at her popcicle. “O-
oh...” She hesitated. “What um... what's it like? I heard it hurts your
first time.”

“That's only if you don't do it right,” Haruka said. “It never hurt
with Yuta-kun. He was so sweet... And it was...” Haruka giggled
behind her treat. “It felt really... nice. And I want to do it again.
Sometimes, I wish he would just take me to a hotel and—!”

“Sawamura-san?”
Haruka jumped and whipped around. The foreign voice put her so
off guard she nearly hurled her ice cream in the direction it came
from. A young man had approached the girls, wearing dark clothes
and a worried face. “Yes...?” Haruka said cautiously. “If you're a fan, I
don't do autographs or pictures...”
“Ah, no.” Baba held up his hand, as if to prove to Haruka that he
wasn't there to stalk her. Or... at least, not for those reasons. “Please,
I know this is sudden, but you should know. Kiryu-han texted me this
morning.”
Haruka's heart shot up into her throat. “Uncle Kaz...?”
“Wait...” Ayako whipped back and forth between Haruka and
Baba. “What? Uncle Kaz...? B-but I thought.”

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“Who are you?” Haruka demanded. “How do you know my Uncle
Kaz?”

“I'll explain everything,” Baba said. “But he needed me to tell
you.”

“Tell me what?” On high alert, Haruka stood and faced Baba
boldly. “What did Uncle Kaz need me to know?”

“It's Majima-han. He's been shot.”

◈◈◈
Majima woke up slowly. For a while, he wasn't sure where he
was. Just that he existed in some liminal space, and that his body was
numb. As the seconds ticked on, he recognized the sterile smell of a
hospital room, and the steady beeps of his heart monitor. His mind
reached out for what had transpired over the past few hours. He had
gone to Kiryu's place, drunk and sloppy. They fell into each other's
arms, as they always did, and after a few hours together, Majima
finally fell asleep. Only to be woken up by the sound of Kiryu
shuffling around the apartment.
His gut twisted.
Yes. He remembered now.
It was early. Majima was just drifting in and out of sleep when he
felt Kiryu get up. At first, Majima remembered wondering if he was
up to take a piss. But then he heard the unmistakable sounds of Kiryu
getting dressed. Of him zipping up his pants, getting his jacket off the
hook. Majima should have shot up right then and there. He should
have demanded to know what Kiryu was doing. But he didn't. He laid

554

where he was, deathly still and deafeningly silent. He couldn't bring
himself to stop Kiryu from leaving. Because he knew, as he heard
Kiryu walk out that door, that no matter what he said, this was how it
was always meant to end.

When Kiryu's footsteps faded away, Majima laid in silence a little
while longer before pushing himself to sit up. He stared at the empty
hallway. As if waiting for Kiryu to come back to him. He sat there,
listening to the clock tick away the never ending minutes. Slowly, his
gaze fell to the photos on the table. Happier times stared back at
him. Majima wondered, vaguely, why Kiryu hadn't thought to take his
memories. A bitter bile rose in his heart as he realized that Kiryu
must not have wanted them.

Majima folded his legs and took the photo off the table. He
removed the pic circle strip to stare at the Morning Glory portrait
underneath. There was no mistaking that happy smile Kiryu wore. He
looked as natural in a group of kids as any proud father would. And
then, Majima turned to the photos of them. Together. Majima
remembered that day. He remembered hearing that Kiryu was finally
released, remembered the unbridled joy the news brought him.
Majima wanted to spend every second he could tracking Kiryu down.
Reliving the glory days of when they were just two young bucks
trying to make it big in the underworld. When Majima gave Kiryu the
pictures, he always figured Kiryu would have trashed it, or lost it over
the years.

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But there it was. Real, and in his grasp. And it, like Majima, was
left behind. Again.

“Fucking...” Majima pinched his nose. “Too early for this shit.”
Majima set the pictures aside on the table and rifled through a small
pile of clothes Kiryu left behind. He found an old pair of sweats and
slipped them on. There was no sleeping after this. Maybe he should
take a shower? Get some coffee started.

That's when he smelled it. Low, at first. Subtle. It gave him pause,
wondering if Kiryu might have left the stove on. Until he placed the
smell, that is. It wasn't gas, it was gasoline. And it was getting
stronger. “The fuck...?” Majima peeked out the window, and saw to
his horror smoke starting to rise from the base of the building.
“Shit...!” Majima grabbed his coat and turned for the door.

What he found instead was a man with a gun, staring him down.
The shot was muffled by the silencer, though the distinct crack
still rang in Majima's ears. He jerked backwards and collapsed into
the wall beside the futon. He didn't even feel the bullet at first, too
winded by the force that knocked him off his feet. The assassin
walked deeper inside, his gun never leaving Majima's sights. All
around them, the walls began to smoke and light from below. An
orange flicker was the only thing to decipher the dark man from the
rest of the room.
“Where is Kiryu Kazuma?” he asked. Majima, his head light and
his hand pressed against his now burning wound, didn't answer. The

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assassin bent over, pressing the hot metal of the gun to Majima's
forehead. “I'll ask you one more time. Where is Kiryu Kazuma?”

Majima flicked his eye to his jacket. His fingers inched inward,
going straight for the hidden weapon within. His one chance.
“Why...?” Majima asked, “...should I tell a fucker like you?”

“Because if you don't,” the man said, “your brains paint the wall.”
He glanced to his left, watching the flames get higher in the plaster.
“And I'd suggest you do it real fast, Majima Goro.”

Majima's face flinched. “A...alright... Come in close...” The man
hesitated, but lowered himself to hear Majima better. As Majima
strained his neck, he smiled. “Go fuck yourself.”

Squish. The blade of Majima's tanto slid quick and easy into the
man's ribcage. The assassin gargled in shock and tried pulling the
trigger, but Majima had already knocked the weapon away, sending a
bullet into the wall behind him. As the man collapsed, Majima
summoned all his strength to send the blade down into his stomach
again and again. His victim was too surprised to fight, and writhed in
pain and agony until falling to his knees on Kiryu's table. As he did,
his arm came down onto the surface, crashing into Kiryu's framed
photo of Morning Glory.

The glass shattered, and Majima, woozy from rapid bloodloss,
stalled. Though it was difficult to do so, Majima bent down and slid
the photo from the glass, as well as the photo strip. He folded them
together, sloppily, and shoved them into his pocket.

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A wave of nausea hit him, and he wobbled. The world burned
brighter by the second. Even woozy, he knew he had to act fast. He
limped his way to the front door, only to notice that a fire had started
just at the base of it. At full strength, he could bust it down no
problem. Currently? If he tried going through that, he'd end up extra
crispy. The ceiling above him creaked and he looked to his right. The
bathroom. Dragging a limp leg with him, Majima collapsed beneath
the sink, and with a bloody hand, plugged the drain and turned on
the water. Before long, the tap cascaded over the edge and onto his
hot head. As the water drenched him, he felt his vision dip in and out
of darkness. Immobilized with pain, he only had enough energy to
keep himself alive, and just barely.

“Majima!”
Majima's head tilted upward, his lips parting. No. There was no
way. He was gone...
“MAJIMA!”
It was.
He was here.
He came back.
Majima pried open his mouth. His words were failing him. He
could only manage enough breath to whimper out: “Kiryu-chan...” He
wondered if that was even enough. However, only seconds later, that
bathroom door broke open, and the last thing Majima saw was
Kiryu's face lowering towards him. The last thing he felt were those

558

hands, cradling him. Holding him close. As he faded in and out of
reality, he heard Kiryu's words keep him anchored.

“Majima... stay with me... stay strong... I'm here... I'm here...
Please...

“Please stay alive.”
The next thing he knew, he was here.
And where “here” was, he could only assume, was a hospital.
Slowly, Majima cracked his eye open. The blinding white of hospital
walls met him, and he flinched. To his right, the window was letting
in a blast of sunlight, and Majima did his best to try and adjust. He
tried wetting his lips, but his mouth was dry as cotton. He quickly
recognized the after effects of anesthesia. He must have been coming
down off surgery drugs. He'd had enough bullets yanked out of his
ass to recognize them off hand.
As his eye fixed itself to deal with the light, he began to see a
shapeless mound laying awkwardly in a chair. Kiryu, his long legs
splayed, was sleeping haphazardly, his head lolled to one side. Folded
in his arms was Majima's coat. And resting loosely in his fingertips
were the two photos Majima had managed to salvage from the fire.
Majima hoisted himself up his pillows, through he hissed at the sharp
pain that came with movement. “You'd think I'd be used to this shit
by now...” he muttered.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kiryu shift in his chair. Those
almond eyes fluttered open, and slowly, the Dragon of Dojima looked
up. They stared at each other for a long moment. Slowly, Kiryu stood

559

and laid Majima's jacket and photos on his bedside table. “The
surgery went smoothly,” he said. “You're lucky the bullet didn't hit
anything important.”

“Yeah,” said Majima. “Just my gut.” His throat tightened and he
looked away. He and Kiryu sat in awkward silence. Until slowly,
Majima felt Kiryu take his hand. His heart pounding, Majima looked
up. Kiryu had his eyes closed.

“I'm so glad you're alive...” he breathed in relief.
Majima squeezed Kiryu's hand, forcing him to look down. “Me
too, big guy.” After a pause, Kiryu brought his chair closer to Majima's
bedside and sat down. He continued to hold Majima's hand, almost
dutifully. It was like a wife at an ailing husband's bedside.
“What happened?” Kiryu asked.
Majima shook his head. “Some asshole lookin' for you,” he
explained. “Knew me too, which means you probably got someone
on your tail.” A smile twitched at his lips. “You sure let yourself get
sloppy, huh?”
“I'm sorry.”
“Knock it off.”
Kiryu looked up as Majima settled further back into his pillows. “I
don't need you grovelin' to me, Kiryu-chan.”
Kiryu hesitated. “All right.” Still, he kept their hands together.
Majima had unwittingly began rubbing his thumb up and down
Kiryu's hand. “Do you know anything else?”

560

“Not for sure,” Majima said, “but if I had to guess? It was
probably one of them Yomei fucks you made a deal with.”

Kiryu furrowed his brow. “How do you figure?”
Majima rounded to Kiryu. “You made the bargain to stay dead,
didn'tchya? If you got a tail, what that most likely means is they're
keepin' tabs on you to make sure you keep up your end. Guess with
me in the picture, they decided to just finalize the details.” Kiryu's
jaw ground and he glared to the side. Majima felt those fingers
tighten on his palm. “You still thinkin' of runnin' away?”
Kiryu's face fell, and he lowered his head. “I thought you were
asleep.”
“Kiryu-chan. Look at me.” Kiryu lifted his head. Majima pointed to
the gray circle around his eye. “When have you ever known me to get
a fuckin' decent night's sleep?” That pulled a smile at Kiryu's lips,
though it fell as quickly as it came.
“If I would have known...”
“You woulda what?” Majima asked. “You know I'd be after you in
a heartbeat. Remember what I said to you the night you got out? All
them years ago?”
Kiryu thought a moment. “That you'd be on my ass...?”
“Exactly.” Majima lifted their hands, flashing a bitter smile. “I
made ya a promise. You think I'm so weak willed I'm ready to go back
on my word over somethin' like this?”
“Majima-san...”

561

Majima brought Kiryu's knuckles to his lips and kissed them,
gently. “There's just one thing... You can't leave me like that again.
You get me? I'm sick of watchin' you walk away.”

“After all this...? You still...?”
“Of course.” Majima let Kiryu's hand go, and instead, cupped his
cheek. “I love ya, you dope.” Kiryu's eyes misted over. For the first
time since their meeting, Majima saw Kiryu threaten tears. His
shoulders trembled, and he tried swallowing a lump in his throat to
no avail. Kiryu's hands reached up and he clutched Majima's wrist.
Unable to hold it back, Kiryu bent forward. His head fell to Majima's
legs. He made no sound as he cried. His hands eventually migrated to
Majima's thighs, and he squeezed, still being careful not to touch his
injury. Sliding from his face, Majima's hand threaded through Kiryu's
hair, gently petting it as Kiryu let that final wall crumble.
It was time to go home.

562

Chapter 7: The Price of peace

Saejima was restless. He had been ever since the Yomei had
made a point to waltz into Tojo HQ like they owned the place.
Koshimizu in particular gave Saejima a pit in his stomach he couldn't
seem to fill. What was worse? Seeing as Hiroshima was all the way on
the other side of the country, Daigo had all but been forced to offer
them a place to stay while he thought things over. Even though the
Tojo had every right to kick them out on their asses, a lack of
hospitality could worsen things between the clans. And if Daigo was
going to keep the peace, as per Kiryu's wishes, he was going to have
to play nice. At least for now.

Saejima sighed through his cigarette smoke. He'd gone through
nearly his entire pack that night. When he first got out of prison, he
had to be careful not to over do it. Prison cigarettes were cheap, and
often had shitty filters and a horrible after taste. Now that he could
afford the good stuff, Saejima had to watch his habits so he wouldn't
give himself lung cancer.

Currently, Saejima was killing time out in the zen garden, pacing
along the bridges and rock displays. But damned if he felt anything
but fucking zen these days. He'd thought about contacting Majima.
Seeing if he was at least still alive. But every time he brought up that
phone, he hesitated. His kyodai had always been temperamental. If
he called him and it went sour, who knew how long it'd be till Majima
came home? And he wasn't about to try texting this late in the game.

563

Majima had insisted he needed to learn, but it felt so impersonal to
Saejima. Why write to someone when you could call them and say
what you needed to in person?

Saejima was currently so deep in his own thoughts that he almost
didn't notice movement down the outer hallways. Blinking, he lifted
his head. There was Koshimizu, strutting about, right at home.
Saejima glared, and flicked his used butt to the side. No doubt their
Yomei guests were heading to the mess hall to get their free dinner.
Goddamned vultures. It'd be something different entirely if they'd at
least have a little shame. But no. Here they were, taking every
advantage Daigo afforded them. It was like the treaty was already
signed, and more than that, like Daigo had handed over the keys to
the fucking castle. It made Saejima sick. What it did not do, however,
was distract him from the fact that Koshimizu had left his room
totally unguarded.

He hesitated. Getting caught snooping in their esteemed guest's
effects wasn't a great prospect for Saejima's evening, even if he was a
patriarch now. Still, he couldn't help but be drawn to that cracked
door. Nothing about this smelled right to Saejima. And maybe it was
time to find the origin of that shit stink.

Saejima waited until Koshimizu and his goons were totally out of
sight. Then, casually as he could, Saejima wandered up the steps and
into the east wing of HQ's guest quarters. The shoji door was indeed
left ajar, and Saejima gave one last cursory glance around him before
slipping in and sliding it closed right after.

564

First, he scanned the area. Daigo had given Koshimizu and his
entourage a pretty big area, complete with adjacent rooms for
privacy. They weren't exactly the cleanest guests, Saejima noticed.
Already they'd trashed the place with empty cans of beer, dirty
clothes, and plastic garbage from convenience store snacks. Saejima
was quick to locate any personal affects.

There was a briefcase in the closet, and a few coats with bulky
pockets crumpled up on a chair by the window. Saejima went to the
aluminum case first. It had a combination lock guarding it, but that
was no trouble. Pressing his ear to the edge, he gently fiddled with
the numbers until he heard a few distinct clicks from within.
Carefully, he opened up the lid and peered inside. Three pistols,
nestled in foam, stared up at him. Saejima frowned. Not exactly
surprising. He dug through the foam padding and found nothing else.
Disappointed, he snapped it closed and put it back exactly where he
found it. Next, he addressed the coats.

He dug through the pockets one at a time. He found some keys,
loose change, lint, old gum, some bullet casings, a utility knife, and
an expired condom. With an exasperated sigh, he put the coats back
on the chair. He wasn't exactly expecting a piece of paper titled “My
Dastardly Plan” but there had to be something suspicious around...

“You should probably lock the doors before you go sniffing
around stuff that isn't yours.”

565

Saejima jumped and rounded to Tashiro, who stood quietly at the
door frame. His face was contemplative as he folded his arms over
his chest. “The hell are you doing, man?”

“Looking.”
“For what?”
“I don't know.” Saejima opened a drawer and saw nothing inside.
These guys were too lazy to even put their clothes away. “Those
fucks just don't sit right with me, that's all...” He turned to Tashiro,
who had averted his eyes. “You said it yourself, you don't trust them.”
“I don't,” Tashiro agreed. “Still, if somebody spots you, it spells
trouble for the Sixth Chairman.”
“I know that...” Saejima closed the drawer and shoved his hands
into his pockets. “I just...” He sighed and turned away. “I don't want
to trust those fuckers, but I can't kick up a fuss unless I've got some
hard proof, you know? Otherwise it leaves the door open for
retaliation.”
“And what would the Omi Alliance do if they heard the big bad
Tojo Clan was picking on such a little syndicate like the Yomei?”
Tashiro pieced together. “We'd be in the middle of an all out war.
Again.”
Saejima grunted. “You see my problem.” He rubbed his tired eyes.
“I just... Somethin's not right.”
Tashiro leaned against the door in thought, his brow furrowed
behind his spectacles. “You think you might just be reaching?”
“Haw?” Saejima lifted his head.

566

Tashiro shrugged. “Look I'm not inclined to believe that these
guys are all sunshine and roses, but maybe they really are here just
to form an alliance. Maybe we're all so used to backstabbing that we
see it everywhere these days.”

Saejima scoffed. As much as he hated to admit it, Tashiro might
have a point. “Well... Let's at least take this outside before they come
back.” Tashiro agreed, and they stepped back out into the zen
garden. Pausing at the walk way, Saejima stared up into the night sky.
“Maybe they are here with honest intentions,” he pondered. “I'm not
so proud to ignore when I'm wrong. If that's the case, I'll shut the hell
up about it.” He turned to Tashiro. “But I can't shake the feeling, you
know? I gotta find an answer one way or another.”

Tashiro shook his head. “Just... don't go ignoring the answers you
don't like. Yeah?” With a pat on Saejima's shoulder, Tashiro wandered
back into the estate, leaving Saejima to his thoughts. Saejima stared
back at Koshimizu's door.

Answers he didn't like... It was a little too early to rule on it, but
so far, the Yomei didn't seem to have any aces up their sleeves.
Maybe he was just projecting? Saejima took out his phone. 10pm. He
wondered, vaguely, how Kiryu's kids were doing? He'd tried to make
a point to keep an eye on them since Kiryu's passing, but it was hard
to find the time with everything else. He wondered if anyone was
even up at this hour? They were teenagers now, after all. Still, with
Haruka there, maybe she ran a tight ship?

567

Saejima dialed Morning Glory's number and held it to his ear.
After a few rings, a boy's voice answered. “Moshi mosh.” Saejima
couldn't quite place the voice, though he knew he'd heard it at the
orphanage before.

“Ah, sorry for callin' so late,” he said. “This is Saejima. Is Haruka-
chan around?”

“Eh...?” The voice sounded immediately suspicious. “You're who?
What do you want with Haruka-oneechan?”

“I just wanted to call and see how she was doing. I hadn't really
had time to call and check up on you guys, so I thought...”

“Well she's not here!”
Saejima blinked. “She's not...?”
“Taichi, what are you doing—?!”
“Go away, Ayako, I got the phone—”
On the other line, Saejima heard a squabble between the boy
who picked up, and a girl's voice. “Hi, hello! Who may I ask is
calling?”
Saejima definitely recognized this one. One of the older girls.
Ayako, if he'd heard the boy correctly. “This is Saejima Taiga. I was a
friend of Kiryu-han. I was hopin' to speak with Haruka-chan. It'd been
a while since I checked up on you kids so...”
“Ah, I see. Well, Haruka-chan is asleep. She had a really long day,
so I don't want to wake her up.”
Saejima tilted his head. “Asleep?” he repeated. “I thought she
stepped out?” Ayako fumbled on the other line.

568

“A-ah. Oh. Yes. That's what I meant. She's had a really long day
shopping and she's out right now.”

“Uh-huh...” Not great liars, these kids. “Do you know when she'll
be back? It's already pretty late.”

“I'm sorry, I don't.”
“I see.” Saejima folded his arm on his elbow. “How about Yuta-
kun? Is he around?”
“Y—Yuta-kun is out with her.”
“Is he?”
“Of—of course. She doesn't go anywhere without him.”
“Well if that's the case, maybe I should just come over there.”
“H-huh?!” Saejima heard panic in Ayako's voice. “That—that's
not necessary—!”
“Seems like it might be. I'll be on the first flight to Okinawa in the
morning. Good night, Ayako-chan.”
“W-wait—!”
Saejima hung up and pocketed his phone. He glanced up to the
far window, noticing Koshimizu and his cronies make themselves
comfortable in the dining hall. Saejima didn't like the idea of leaving
Daigo to handle these bastards on his own, but he didn't exactly have
a choice. With a silent apology, Saejima turned and strut out the
garden gates.

◈◈◈
“You should be safe here. For the time being.” Opening the door
to their hotel room, Baba stepped aside, letting in Haruka, carrying

569

Haruto, and Yuta, who looked after both their shared duffle bag of
emergency clothes, and kept his hand firmly on the secret fire arm in
his pocket.

The hotel Baba brought them to was on the clear opposite end of
the island from Morning Glory. It was a small, family establishment.
Baba was sure to find a place that didn't rely on a digital guest
registry to avoid any potential hackers. Every detail had come directly
from Kiryu's instructions. No stone unturned, it seemed.

Haruka walked Haruto and his baby bag to the single bed and sat
on the edge. Bouncing her child in her lap, she looked to Baba. There
were times, however rare, that her face would betray the years of
stress she dealt with in her youth. Now more than ever, she looked
ten years older than she was. “How long do we stay here, Baba-san?”

“Until Kiryu-han says otherwise,” Baba instructed dutifully. “In the
meantime, I'll run any errands you need. I can take your clothes to a
laundry mat, get you groceries, anything.”

Yuta turned to Baba, dutifully. “We're thankful,” he said with a
nod. “Was there anything else Kiryu-aniki wanted to tell us?”

Baba shook his head. “Not to my knowledge. Still, the minute I
hear an update, I'll let you know.”

“Appreciate it.”
“Right. Well, if you need me...” Baba gestured to the adjacent
door to their left. “I'll be next door. Don't hesitate to knock. Okay?”
Haruka and Yuta both agreed, and with a slight bow, Baba headed

570

out to settle into his own room. The minute Baba was out of the
room, Yuta set to work.

He locked and bolted the door, drew the curtains down, and
checked for any other possible ways of entry. Not that the room was
very big. A single queen sized bed sat between two end tables, both
with lamps, and an old style landline rested to the right of the
pillows. Additionally, there was an old, thrifted wardrobe that an
ancient CRTV sat on top of. The coffee maker seemed to be the only
thing that was new. The lack of a fridge meant they'd probably have
to rely on instant food and delivery. Haruka watched him in silence,
and Haruto, cranky from being up so late, squirmed in her arms.

Yuta, satisfied, put his hands on his hips with a nod. “Looks like
everything is secure for now...” Haruto gurgled, and Yuta turned to
the pair of them. “He's fussy,” he said, gently pinching one of
Haruto's chubby legs. “A bottle should help him sleep.” Haruka made
a move for the baby bag, but Yuta held up his hand. “Here. Let me.”
He dug around for Haruto's formula and bottle. “We can use the
coffee pot to warm it up.”

Haruka nodded. “Good idea...” She watched as Yuta prepared
Haruto's supper. Mindlessly, she bounced Haruto on her leg, trying to
quell his whimpering. Once the water was warm enough, Yuta
poured it into the bottle, shook it, and sat next to Haruka.

“You ready, kiddo?” Yuta held the nipple to Haruto's lips. “Say
ahhh...” Haruto latched, and soon, he was downing his dinner like a
champ. Yuta smiled, and despite her tire, Haruka did the same.

571

“There we go... Drink it all down, buddy.” Haruto grabbed at the
bottle, gently kicking his feet as he drank. Yuta turned to Haruka,
perhaps to say something about how big their baby was getting,
when he noticed the deep bags beneath Haruka's normally bright
and tenacious eyes. She was staring off into space, well worn and
tired. Yuta frowned in worry. “He's going to be all right, Haruka-
chan...”

Haruka looked up. “How do you know that?” she asked.
Yuta hesitated. “Well... I don't...” he admitted. “But we have to try
and keep hope alive, don't we?”
Haruka laid her hand on the back of Haruto's head, gently
lowering her lips to his crown. “It's so hard,” she admitted. “Growing
up, I always wondered... What would be the thing that killed Uncle
Kaz? What favor would he say yes to, what bad man would he trust
that would end with him dead? When we thought he was gone... It
tore me up inside, but I understood that it was always a possibility. In
a way, I was ready for that news my entire life...” Her eyes watered,
and she held Haruto closer to her heart.
“And then... come to find out the truth. That he's alive. He's alive,
and he's hiding. And even knowing that, still I'm kept in the dark. And
now... now we hear that Uncle Maji's in the hospital. Another
gunshot. Another bullet. When does it end? Does it ever? He
survived this time. Uncle Kaz survived this time. What about next
time? The time after that? When does that gunshot end it for real?
Will we even know...?”

572

Gently, Yuta's hand came down on Haruka's head. She hadn't
even noticed the tears rolling down her face as she looked up.
“Haruka-chan...” he said softly. “You'll drive yourself crazy with all
those questions...” A knot welled in Haruka's throat. She looked away
as Yuta took the empty bottle from Haruto's grasp. Their baby was
already yawning, widely. It was, after all, well past his bedtime.
Reaching over, he took Haruka's shoulders and edged them close
together.

“Listen,” he continued, “I won't pretend to know what's
happening. Not with Kiryu-aniki, or Majima-san. Because it's not my
job to know.” He tucked a strand of hair from Haruka's wet cheek and
tenderly wiped her tear with his thumb. “My job is to keep you and
Haruto safe. Your job is to do the same.”

“But Uncle Kaz...”
“Kiryu-aniki's job,” Yuta pressed, “is to come home. To his family.”
Yuta pulled her closer, and his lanky arms wrapped around them
both. With Haruto in the center, they sat together. Small, a little
broken, but together. “Worrying about them won't make them come
home any faster. All we can do while we wait is to focus on our jobs.”
Haruka buried her head into Yuta's neck, leaving a wet spot on his
collar. “How...? How do I keep my mind off of all this...?”
Tenderly, Yuta tilted her head just a bit, and gave her a soft,
sympathetic smile. “Focus on what's within reach,” he advised.
“Sometimes, it's all that keeps you going...” He and Haruka both

573

looked down at Haruto, who was falling asleep quickly. Yuta brushed

his fingertips down Haruto's soft cheek. He barely stirred.

“What's within reach...” Haruka wiped her face and looked up to
Yuta. She was met with a smile in earnest, and despite her anxiety,

she felt her heart swell. “Yuta-kun...” Haruka leaned up, and before
Yuta knew it, she laid a kiss on Yuta's lips. Yuta hesitated, but kissed

back all the same. When they broke apart, Haruka squeezed Yuta's

hand, and he returned the gesture.

“When this is over,” she said, “we should get married.” Yuta's

eyebrows flew up in surprise. But Haruka clearly wasn't joking. A
smile bloomed on Yuta's face, but he quickly doused it, and turned

his head away. Haruka eyed him, curiously. “Not a good idea?”

Yuta paused. “Are... are you sure?” He turned back to her,

earnestly. “Haruka-chan... I don't have anything to offer you. I'm just

some backwoods kid with no family of my own. I barely have any
money to my name. The best I could do would be to find a part time

job somewhere to support us. I'm... Haruka-chan, I'm nobody.”
Haruka laid her hand on Yuta's cheek, forcing him to look at her.

“You're Haruto's daddy,” she said, softly. “You said it yourself. Your

job is to protect us. That's not nobody, Yuta-kun.” Now it looked like

Yuta's turn to cry, but he held it in. They embraced again, their son

nestled safely between their beating hearts.

◈◈◈

“Welcome back, sir.”

“Thank you. Should I sign in again?”

574

“Please.”
Kiryu bent over and signed his alias into the guest book. After
which, he took a fresh visitor's sticker from the counter and slapped
it onto his lapel. It was a beautiful, sunny morning, and Kiryu had
figured that Majima could do with some better breakfast than what
the hospital was feeding him. In his hand was a bag of fresh pastries
and two cups of coffee. Kiryu made sure to get some spare creamers
and plenty of sugar; Majima always liked his coffee on the sweeter
side.
Walking down the hall, he took the elevator to the forth floor
where Majima was staying. It'd been a couple of days now, and so far,
Majima was healing quite well, and would be out of there in no time.
Barring, of course, that he didn't do anything stupid.
Imagine Kiryu's surprise when he stepped off the elevator to see
Majima doing something stupid.
“Sir, please, you can't—!”
“I told you fucks, I'm fine!”
“But you only got admitted two days ago! You need your rest!”
Weighed down by desperate nurses, Majima was clawing his way
down the hall, still clinging to his IV. He was hopping on one bare
foot, while the other leg was cocked to one side, trying to shimmy his
bare ass into those tighter-than-was-polite leather pants. It was
chaos. Sighing, Kiryu approached the fiasco with all the energy of a
man needing to get his dog unstuck from the front gate. Again.
“Majima-san. What are you doing?”

575

Majima looked up and broke into a smile. “Kiryu-chan!” He
managed to yank his hand from one of the three nurses that were
helplessly clinging to Majima to try and drag him back to his room.
“Took ya long enough! Tell these old bags that I'm perfectly fine!”

One of the nurses addressed Kiryu with a huff. “Sir, the patient
needs more rest. It's not good for him to be walking so quickly after
such an injury. Please, can you talk some sense into him? If he
doesn't comply, we're going to have to restrain him to his bed.”

“I'd like ta see you try you crotchety hag!”
Kiryu rubbed his temple. “Majima...”
“Seriously, Kiryu-chan! You know me! I've shaken off more than
my fair share of bullets in my time! And I'm gettin' all antsy and shit
in that stupid bed. I'm ready to go—hurk!” Without warning, Kiryu
reached down and hoisted Majima onto his shoulder like a sack of
flour. This, of course, exposed his bare ass further to the world, as his
pants hung limp from one leg. “K-Kiryu-chan! Ye're hurtin' my bullet
hole, goddamn you!”
“Well then you should have thought about that before you forced
me into this predicament.” Kiryu turned to the nurses and bowed his
head. “I apologize,” he expressed sincerely. “I'll make sure he stays in
bed until he's discharged.”
“Ya fuckin' traitor!”
With thankful smiles from the nurses, Kiryu marched Majima
back into his room and plopped him onto the bed. Majima was sore
—both physically and emotionally—but didn't try to get back up.

576

Mainly because Kiryu had laid out a pretty handsome spread of
pastries for their sampling pleasure on the hospital bed tray, and
Majima couldn't ignore the rumbling in his stomach. Majima grabbed
a croissant and took a huge bite.

“You know I'm good enough to leave,” he said, his mouth full of
carbs. He swallowed. “What's the big idea forcin' me back in here?”

Kiryu sat on the bed, taking a muffin for himself. “Neither one of
us are as young as we used to be,” he said. “I'd rather you take your
time and get your strength back.”

“Hmph.” Majima dumped the entire ten packs of sugar into his
coffee and followed it up with the prepackaged creamer. He gave it a
stir before sipping. “So... Any luck?”

Kiryu shook his head. “No clues to confirm that our corpse was
Yomei. Not even a pin. Though it's possible he didn't have any
identifying information on him on purpose.”

“His phone?” Majima asked.
“Didn't have one on him. It's probably stashed somewhere, but I
scoured that block up and down. Nothing.”
Majima furrowed his brow and leaned against his pillows. “But
he's gotta be Yomei, don't he? What else could he be?”
“Who knows?” Kiryu replied. “All that matters to me is that you're
alive and well, and Haruka and Haruto are safe.”
Majima hesitated. “And what about you...?”
Kiryu lifted his head. “What about me?”

577

“Well... Once we get our answers, then what? If it's just some guy
on the hunt for you, great. But if not... You realize what kinda
implications this has, right, Kiryu-chan?”

Kiryu stared at his hands. “Of course I do.”
“Which means... if you're gonna deal with it, you're gonna have
to go back. Back to the life.” Kiryu closed his eyes and clenched his
fists. Majima pushed upright, careful not to agitate his stitches. “Why
do you fight it so much? Is yakuza life really all that bad? You got
friends, family... Shit, ain't Daigo-chan worth stickin' around a bit? Or
Saejima or... or me...?” Tenderly, Majima took Kiryu's hand, and he
cracked his eyes open. “Do ya really hate who you are that much...?”
Kiryu relaxed his muscles, but tightened his grip on Majima's
fingers. “It's not that. There are just... so many things that are worth
more than all that.” He shook his head. “I'm getting too old for the
life, Majima-san. I don't want to do this forever. I just... I want peace.
“I want to wake up in the morning knowing that no one is waiting
around any corner, gun at the ready. I want my girl to be the best
mother she can to that baby, without fear that someday, someone
will take it away from her.” Kiryu lifted his eyes. “Is that too much to
ask, Majima-no-niisan?”
Majima didn't have an answer for that. Instead, he went back to
eating in silence, although his appetite had long since dwindled. It
was replaced, instead, by a chilling revelation.
The Dragon of Dojima wanted peace. But the longer Majima
stayed by Kiryu's side, the less likely that peace would ever come.

578

◈◈◈
The clock ticked on. It was mid-afternoon, and Morning Glory was
full, as it was, in fact, a Sunday. But the orphanage was not its usual,
wild and lively house. Mainly due to the massive yakuza sitting at the
foot of the dining room table, with Ayako fidgeting at the head. They
and the rest of the orphans sat in silence, listening to the wall clock
tick. Saejima, meanwhile, kept his arms folded, his eyes pinned on
the oldest girl. He'd been there for the past hour and a half. During
that time, the kids stayed as tight lipped as clams, staring at the
table.
“When is Haruka-chan supposed to be back again?” Saejima
asked.
Ayako twittered. “O-oh. Uh. Five?” Saejima turned to the clock. It
was 5:42. “I mean... I mean six. You know, Saejima-san, Haruka-chan
has a lot of errands she's running. Maybe you should come back
another day.”
“Mm.” Saejima tilted his head, his face as stony as ever. “Maybe
you should have her call me once she gets her phone fixed.”
Ayako brightened. “Ah, yeah! Yeah that sounds like a good idea.”
“Or you could call Yuta-kun.”
Ayako's smile froze, and the kids looked at each other, worriedly.
Koji, clearing his throat, leaned in and tried to force a smile. “Y-Yuta-
kun... ah... he's... He's trying not to be on his phone so much. A-
actually, he gave up his phone! Yeah, he gave it up. Trying to go more
old school, I think.”

579

“Is that so?”
“Yeah!” said Koji. “Totally cutting the chord, you know? For the
baby.”
“That's right!” said Riona. “He's devoting himself to Haruto-chan!
No phone, no distractions!” The other kids joined in. Saejima
scanned the table, and after a moment, hung his shaking head.
“You kids... are awful liars.” Looking up, it was no surprise to see
the entire table bow in shame. “Listen. I know you think you're
helping Haruka-chan by keeping her hidden. But I'm a friend. I knew
Kiryu-han personally. I need to check on her to make sure she's all
right.” Still, they remained silent. Saejima leaned forward on the
table, his fingers laced together. “If I need to find her myself, I will,”
he said. “But wherever she is, she could be in danger. This is some
real serious stuff, kids. If I let anything happen to her, it will be a slap
in the face to Kiryu-han's memory.”
Ayako twitched, and for a moment, it seemed like she'd finally
spill the beans. But it was Eri, the youngest of the girls, who finally
broke the silence. “A man took Oneechan and Haruto-kun to a safe
place,” she said. “Yuta-kun went with them.”
“Eri—!” Ayako protested. But Eri turned to her big sister.
“I trust him,” she announced. “The rest of you should, too.” She
rounded back to Saejima with the confidence of someone still so
young, so pure. “He reminds me of Uncle Kaz.” The others lifted their
heads, some observing Saejima in a new light.
“Who was this man?” Saejima asked.

580

“We don't know,” said Eri. “But he knew Uncle Kaz, too. Haruka-
oneechan seemed to trust him.”

“Where did he take them?”
“He wouldn't tell us,” said Koji. “He said that if we knew, it would
put us in danger if someone came around asking for them.”
“I see.” Saejima rubbed his shaved head. “What did he look like?”
Ayako furrowed her brow. “He was kinda thin. Not too tall.
Maybe a little shorter than Yuta-kun.”
“How old was he?”
“Mm... thirty? Maybe? Or younger, I don't know. Ah, but I
remember, he had a shaved head like you, Saejima-san.”
Saejima straightened up. “Shaved head...?”
“Yeah...”
Saejima's mind went into overdrive. It couldn't be... could it?
Then again, Saejima never knew what became of him. It was a
stretch, for sure, but crazier things had happened. “Is there anything
else you can tell me? Maybe about where he might have gone?”
“All we know is that it's somewhere safe,” Ayako said. “I'm sorry.
We shouldn't even have told you this, Saejima-san. Haruka-oneechan
made us promise to keep it quiet.”
“I'm sure she'll understand.” Saejima stood. “I know it doesn't
feel like it, but I promise you, you all did the right thing.” They didn't
seem to find much confidence in that, but Saejima didn't give them
time to debate it. Instead, he turned, threw on his shoes, and headed
outside. The sun was sinking lower into the horizon. He needed a

581

lead. If Haruka was with Baba, then she'd be safe. Yet he needed to
be sure before he could make that call.

“Hmmmm.” Saejima scanned the area around Morning Glory. A
thought came to him. If he could track down a two ton rabid bear in
the mountains... maybe he could track down Haruka the same way?
Saejima walked out into the dirt road and observed the gravel. All
that awaited him were indistinct tire tracks with no way to tell how
old or new they were.

Saejima pulled out the map he bought at the Okinawan airport.
He wasn't a great smart phone user, and as far as he was concerned
paper maps did the job just as well. And there were no buttons to
make it confusing, either.

Walking to the beach, he sat on a rock and laid the map at his
feet. “Baba-chan... if it is you... where would you go?” He would need
to hide Haruka somewhere discrete. An apartment, maybe? But
apartments had too many roaming eyes. Somewhere abandoned
would be ideal, but then there was the baby. At the very least, there
needed to be running water, electricity and other facilities. A hotel
then. But most hotels in the area were all fancied up these days,
what with the wifi and such... High tech hotels were easier to hack.
Easier to key into the cameras and locate someone who'd rather stay
hidden. Then again... if they were older... Saejima flipped the map
over and found, to his delight, a list of hotels in the area. He started
with the first phone number on the list.

“Hi. I was wondering if you had wifi...”

582

chapter 8: reunion

“Another sir?”
“Sure.”
The bartender poured whiskey into Tashiro's glass. His slowly
melting ice cubes clinked against the edges. Tashiro wasn't sure how
long he'd want to keep drinking. All he knew was that Tojo HQ was a
little too crowded for his liking with Koshimizu and his goons floating
around the property.
Three days into that hellish week and they were already starting
to make his skin crawl. Maybe Saejima's right, he thought to himself.
The Yomei weren't exactly honest, even by yakuza standards.
Tashiro's old patriarch wasn't a model of tradition by any stretch, but
even he might prefer not to mix with their kind, regardless of what
they'd offered him in the past.
Tashiro sipped his new glass of whiskey and looked around the
bar. Bacchus was empty, due to the fact that it was pouring sheets
outside. On his wrist, the hours ticked on. Nearly 11pm. Maybe this
should be his last one and he'd catch a taxi back? Perhaps by the
time he returned to HQ, Daigo would actually give him the time of
day...
The bell above the door tingled, and Tashiro peered over his wiry
shoulder. His face soured instantly as Koshimizu wandered in with
three men in tow. Their eyes met, and Koshimizu's bony face lit up
with a sickening smile. He approached the bar and took his seat to

583

Toshiro's left, folding his hands on the bartop. “Drinking alone?” he
asked. “Mind if I join ya?” Toshiro said nothing, and Koshimizu sat
beside him. “So, you had to get away from that stuffy old castle too,
eh?”

“You follow me or somethin', Third Chairman?”
“Just heard you mighta been here.” Koshimizu pulled out a
cigarette, and one of his subordinates lit it for him. Koshimizu tapped
the ashes into the tray between them. “I ain't exactly making good
company with that chairman of yours, after all. Any particular
reason?”
Tashiro leaned on his elbow, scowling. “Maybe it has somethin' to
do with your ugly mug.”
Koshimizu's eyes twinkled. “Mm...” He smoked between his
knuckles. “That a Kansai accent I hear, Tashiro-san? You an Osaka
man?”
Tashiro glared. “What's it to ya?”
“I'll take that as a yes. How'd a backwater boy like you end up
Patriarch with the Tojo, hm? Just unlucky like that?” Koshimizu
tapped on the bar, and the tender gave him poured him a drink. “I
thought all the Sotenbori thugs went to the Omi by default.”
“Show's what you know about the big leagues,” Tashiro scoffed.
“Someya-san offered me a better position than what the Omi could
have. So I took it. It's a business. That was always his way of seein'
things.”

584

“Ah.” Koshimizu held his smoke aside so he could take a drink.
“That checks out. I didn't spend much time with the guy but he
always seemed to have a stick up his ass, you know?” He tilted his
drink in respect. “May he rest in peace.”

“The fuck do you want, Koshimizu-san?” Tashiro had kept it under
his lid for the better part of the week, but he'd be lying if he didn't
say that Koshimizu was getting on his last goddamned nerve. “I got
half a mind to call my boys in here and knock you fuckers back to
Hiroshima, you keep flappin' your yap like that.”

Koshimizu pointed at Tashiro. “And there's the country boy. I
always heard Osakans were loud, rude and talked too fast for their
own good. Glad to see you don't disappoint.”

Tashiro sneered in distaste. “You got five minutes, Third
Chairman. Or I walk.”

“All right, all right, cool your jets.” Koshimizu turned on his stool
and leaned casually against the bar. “Look, you can put away your
teeth. Believe it or not, I like you, Tashiro-san. You've got a lot of grit.
And that's why I want your help.”

“My help.”
“Mhm.” Koshimizu snapped, and one of his underlings pulled a
small envelope from his breast pocket. He held it to Koshimizu, who
in turn passed it to Tashiro. Tashiro didn't reach for it. “Dojima-san
has been giving me the run around since I got here. I need your help
making sure he sees the light.”
“So you're bribing me,” said Tashiro.

585

Koshimizu gently pushed the envelope forward. “Consider it an
investment,” he said. “After all... isn't this just business?” Tashiro
went back to his drink, leaving the envelope where it was. Koshimizu
leaned forward on the bar, his laced fingers pinching his smoke
between them. “We're not that different, y'know. Might be why I've
taken a shine to you, Tashiro-san.” Koshimizu took another drag.

“Neither one of us worked to get to where we are. We just
happened to be in the right line up when our superiors stepped out
of the picture.” Seeing the defense in Tashiro's eyes, Koshimizu's
smile widened. “Don't get me wrong,” he continued, “you feel like
the kind of guy who's ready and willing to fight when he needs to.
But Someya-san's death wasn't exactly on the roster, was it?”

Tashiro stared into his whiskey. His reflection dimly sat on the
surface, disturbed by the clinking ice cubes. “So you'd have me...
what? Get in good with Dojima-san? Get his confidence? And once
I'm there, I'm nothing more than a puppet for you Yomei assholes.”

“Of course not,” said Koshimizu plainly. “Didn't you hear me?” He
tapped the envelope. “I'd be investing in you, Tashiro-san. As a
partner.” Tashiro looked up, and Koshimizu held out his hand, as if
presenting his problem. “You don't get far without friends, am I
right? Mr. Osaka?” Finishing his cigarette, Koshimizu snubbed it in the
tray. “Look, there's nothing sinister here. I just need a little more
leeway from your side. Plus, you can't tell me you're as blind to this
as your brothers-in-arms, are ya?”

“Blind...?”

586

“Saejima-san,” Koshimizu said, plainly. “I've known his type plenty
of times before. He's a relic. A dinosaur. The few times I did meet
with your Someya-san, he made it clear what his vision for the future
of yakuza was. An embrace of change. Progress. He was a real
businessman, that one. You know what he wasn't?” Koshimizu held
his drink to his lips. “A loyal dog on a chain. Wouldn't you agree?”

Tashiro said nothing, though his eyes didn't deny that fact.
Someya was a visionary first, a yakuza second. Always had been.
“This deal helps Dojima-san. Everyone knows the kind of power
struggle the Tojo and the Omi have been having for the last fuckin'
century. Why not cut them off at the knees? Make it so they can't
even start to get a foothold in Kamurocho, no matter how hard they
try?”

Tashiro didn't want to admit it out loud, but the idea held water.
He thought back to Saejima's suspicion. So far, under Koshimizu, the
Yomei had been obnoxious, rude, and boorish. But nothing indicated
that they were there for nefarious reasons. Tashiro tapped the bar.
Was he letting his paranoia get the better of him? Or was he, like
Saejima, merely beholden to that old, outdated yakuza honor?

Denying the Yomei wouldn't start much of a war; they
outnumbered the Hiroshima syndicate a hundred to one. But missing
their chance to strike at the Omi could be a deadly mistake. And one
that Tashiro had agonized over since Koshimizu wandered onto HQ
property.

“What do you want from me?” Tashiro finally asked.

587

Koshimizu's smile widened. “Not much,” he said. “But Dojima-san
is going to make his decision by the end of the week, yeah? So maybe
put in a good word. Remind him how close the Omi got to taking
Kamurocho away from you. A city, if I say so, that belongs to your
family. It has for generations, hasn't it? Why let all that go to waste
because of the death of one man?” Koshimizu leaned forward, his
smile gone.

“Neh, Tashiro-san. Be honest. Did you even know Kiryu-san
personally?” The question lingered in Tashiro's mind long after it was
asked, and remained there even when one of the Yomei men pulled
Koshimizu away from the conversation to mutter something in his
ear. After a moment, of back and forth, Koshimizu finished his drink
and tossed a few bills on the counter. “Well, I gotta run. Consider my
offer, yeah?” With one last greasy smile, Koshimizu and his posse left
Bacchus and walked into the rain, unbothered. Tashiro watched them
go. Slowly, his eyes lowered to the envelope left on the bar. It didn't
take a genius to figure out what was in there.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Tashiro took the envelope,
and without even glancing inside, tucked it away into his jacket.

Outside, Koshimizu was escorted across the street and into the
mouth of the Millennium Tower's underground parking lot. As they
cleared the entry ramp, they came across a man sitting on the
bumper of a beat up white van. He stared at his phone as he smoked,
leisurely, and only stood as Koshimizu addressed him.

588

“The fuck do you mean he's dead?” was the patriarch's first
question. The man bowed his head in respect, and turned his phone
for Koshimizu to examine. On the screen read a headline:

BODY FOUND IN KYOTO APARTMENT FIRE

“He hasn't been identified,” the underling said. “But it's Kiryu
Kazuma's apartment. The job was done as instructed. It can't be
anybody else.”

“And what makes you think it's not Kiryu-san himself?” The man
scrolled down the screen to a lower paragraph. Koshimizu read
aloud: “'The body suffered little fire damage, and police indicate that
the victim was a healthy man in his mid thirties, with no distinct
markings.'” Koshimizu glowered. “So no dragon tattoo then, I'm
guessing.”

“And too young to be Umeda's target,” the man went on. “Plus,
Umeda-san hasn't checked in since he confirmed that Majima Goro
had found Kiryu Kazuma. On top of that, the body died of a stab
wound. Pretty easy to piece that one together.”

Koshimizu handed the phone back to his underling. “You think
he's gonna try and bring the Dragon back to the fold?”

“I don't know,” the man admitted. “But it's likely. From what we
know about Kiryu Kazuma, he doesn't tend to stay out of Tojo affairs
for long.”

589

“Fuck.” Koshimizu ran his hand back and forth along his shaved
head. “You realize that if he shows up, we're fucked. You realize this.”
No one dared confirm or deny Koshimizu's fears. After a long string of
silence, Koshimizu let out a yell of frustration and kicked one of the
van doors. It swung violently and nearly came off its lower hinge.
None of the Yomei even flinched at Koshimizu's temper. He put his
hands on his hips, and after a deep sigh, he turned to a different
underling. “Fine. Guess it's time for Plan B.

“Take the girl and her little brat. Tonight.”
◈◈◈

The lobby of Shuabu family inn was fairly dead any time past
8pm. It was a tiny structure, smack dab in the middle of the emptier
side of Okinawa. An older building, the inn was refurbished in the
70's and relatively untouched in the 21st century. Between the tacky
art on the walls and the outdated appliances, it was a wonder how
the little hotel survived for so many years.

While the summer months saw an influx of travelers wanting to
stay off the beaten paths, earlier spring saw almost no guests except
a few, less well off businessman and the occasional family. Hence
why, along with the lobby being empty aside from the desk clerk,
every key for the inn's fifteen rooms were hanging, unused, except
for two. The girl behind the counter yawned as she texted,
occasionally sipping her soda, when the elevator dinged. The clerk
looked up to see Baba step out and approach the counter.

590

“Hi,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “Where's the nearest
convenience store?”

“Down the road to your left,” she instructed, putting down her
phone. She stood politely and put on a smile. “How is everything so
far? Are your rooms okay?”

“They're fine, thank you. Has it been pretty quiet?”
“As quiet as usual.”
“Good...” Baba put on a charming smile. “My friend's baby is
really temperamental. Loud neighbors could keep him awake all
night.”
“Well I don't think you have to worry,” the girl laughed. “If we get
any other guests besides you four, I'll be shocked.”
Baba nodded. “That's good to hear. To the left, you said?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks.” With one last bow of his head, Baba stepped outside
and reviewed his list. Some food, diapers if he could find them, and
rash ointment. He'd be hard pressed to find it all at a Poppo's, but
he'd sure as hell try. Baba folded up his list to pocket it, when the
hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
Baba paused, trying to subtly scan the dark area around the inn
for any signs of life. When one did the kind of work Baba was used to,
one had an instinct for trouble. He strained his ears, and while he
lingered, pulled out his burner phone to try and act less suspicious.
A crunch of gravel to his left. Baba honed in. The footsteps were
those of thick shoes. Likely a man, due to the weight. They were

591

cautious and slow. No sounds of carrying anything, so it wasn't
exactly the maintenance guy bringing out the trash. They were
headed closer to the hotel, coming from the north east. That ruled
out any kind of employee, unless they were coming in for a night
shift. The space between each step suggested a wide gait. So a man
of considerable stature. And the lack of any additional footsteps
informed Baba that he was, in fact, alone. Good. He'd hate to have to
kill more than one guy at a time. The footsteps came ever closer, and
Baba, very cautiously, gripped the switchblade in his right pocket. He
was ready for anything.

“Hello, Baba-chan.”
Well, almost anything.
Baba went rigid, his eyes going wide. In sheer disbelief, Baba
turned to Saejima Taiga, standing casually to his left. He was cleaned
up, wearing a black suit with a pair of shiny, brand new shoes. On his
left lapel sat a pin. Baba didn't need to read the insignia to know
what it said. It was a Tojo pin. And Saejima brought with him the air
of a patriarch.
Baba relinquished his switchblade, dropping his burner phone
without a second thought. Saejima's smile grew wider the longer
Baba stared. Without warning, Baba lurched forward and threw
himself into Saejima's arms. Saejima accepted him easily.
“Aniki!” Baba cried. Despite the tremor in his voice, Baba
laughed, pressing his face deep into Saejima's chest. “Is it—is it really
you—?” He pulled back, as if to make sure the 205lb, 6'2” beast in a

592

three piece wasn't just a figment of his imagination. Suddenly
realizing what he was doing, Baba let Saejima go and took a step
back. A rush of pink had stretched across his face from ear to ear.
Despite the embarrassment, he smiled. “I... how did you...? What are
you...?”

“It's good to see you too, Baba-chan,” Saejima said kindly. “It took
me long enough to find you. You did a good job, hiding Haruka-chan
and the baby here. Well done.”

Baba straightened up. “What?” He glanced back at the inn and
stood up straighter. “You know...?”

“Not all the details. I know that she's safe with you, which is all
that matters.”

Baba's heart swelled, and he glanced away. “But you don't know
why...?”

“I'm assuming you can't tell me?” Saejima asked. Baba shook his
head, and Saejima put his hands on his hips. “That's all right. I know
whatever the reason, it's got to be a good one. So I won't pry.” Baba
glanced up. “Is there anything you need from me, kyodai?”

“Anything I need...?” Baba could barely articulate what he was
feeling. Saejima—his Saejima—was there, in front of him. Not
demanding answers, not undermining Baba's job. But meeting him
with open arms and full confidence. Even years later and in a fancy
suit, Saejima was still the kind man that Baba had fallen for back on
that cold, icy mountain. It nearly brought Baba to tears. Saejima must
have noticed, because he bent forward with concern.

593

“Baba-chan?” Saejima asked carefully. “You okay? Something in
your eye or...?”

Baba turned quickly and roughly rubbed his face dry. “It's fine.
It's... allergies. Just allergies.”

Saejima paused before softening his expression and pulling away.
“Right. Allergies. Well.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I
wanted to check up on Haruka-chan for myself, but I won't get in
your way. Do you want my number in case anything happens?”

“Your number...” Baba turned to Saejima, and steadily, those
wheels in his head started to turn. “Um... actually, Aniki.” Baba pulled
out his list with a timid smile. “I was going to do some shopping for
them down at the local convenience store. It's been so long... it'd be
nice if I had some company. Does that sound ok?”

Saejima's dark eyes twinkled. “Of course. Lead the way.” Scooping
up his phone from the ground, Baba did so, and together, the two of
them walked into the darkness, side by side. “I won't ask any
questions you're not prepared or able to answer,” Saejima told him.
“But how have you been? It's been so long since I've seen hide nor
hair of ya, kyodai.”

“Honestly? I haven't been up to much,” Baba admitted. “Initially I
thought about going to Kamurocho to try and find you when I heard
you got sent back to prison. I tried sticking it out in Tokyo but I was
just sort of... aimless... for a while.” Baba shoved his hands into his
coat pockets as they walked. Around the bend of their dark road,
Baba saw the faint glow of neon. “I took some odd jobs now and

594

then. Did some gambling. Ended up just sort of... existing. To be
honest I was lost, Saejima-aniki.”

Saejima nodded in understanding. “It's not an easy task to pull
yourself out of that hole,” he commended. “What lead you to
Okinawa?”

Baba hesitated. But not because answering that question would
open the door for so many he wasn't able to deal with. No. The real
reason he didn't answer Saejima's inquiry had to do with that instinct
of his. Before those final words left Saejima's lips, Baba felt the
ground rumble. His spine tingled, and to his right, he could hear the
faint screeching of tires. Car engines—fast, wild, dangerous—came
closer and closer by the second. These were no country cruisers,
either. By the sound of their unmuffled roars, these had to be muscle
cars. Which, in Okinawa, meant only one thing: trouble.

Before either of them knew it, cars burst through the dark street
and rumbled straight for the convenience store. They were hot rods,
painted obnoxious colors, with blaring speakers and even louder
drivers.

Baba and Saejima lingered as they parked sloppily in the lot,
cutting over two spaces each. There were three cars in total, and
about eleven delinquents between them. The cars themselves were
open topped Jeeps, making it easy for their passengers to disembark.

Baba eyed them skeptically. So far, they looked like nothing more
than trouble making kids. So, with Saejima in tow, he pressed on. The
roadsters were quick to go in, laughing and joking loudly as they

595

went. Despite showing no interest in the pair of them, Baba was on
edge as they entered through the sliding doors of the Poppo.

“...what kind do you want, man?”
“Whatever's cheap, dude.”
“Okay but they got like a lot of choices.”
“I dunno man, just go with whatever!”
Saejima and Baba glanced at each other. The voices were coming
from the alcohol near the back of the store. Fortunately, that meant
that they would stay mostly out of Baba's way as he shopped.
Quickly, Baba went to find what he could. The delinquents had
spread over the convenience store like mold, making the poor cashier
sweat bullets. Baba had stacked up on pre-made food, instant
noodles and non-perishables, and he was just moving onto the baby
essentials when he found himself face to face with one of the pierced
delinquents. Without meaning to, the roadster was standing right in
front of the last case of baby formula, blocking Baba's path.
“Excuse me,” said Baba. The hoodlum turned to Baba, only just
now noticing him. “Can I get around you?”
“Eh?” Looking at him, Baba guessed that he was barely in his
twenties, with neon yellow hair and ears pierced like a chain link
fence. He turned to see what Baba wanted and swiped a can of
formula to inspect it. He snickered. “What? Your lady whip you into
goin' shoppin' for the brat, buddy?”

596

Baba forced a smile. “Something like that. If I could just—” Baba
reached, but the hoodlum pulled it away. Baba's smile strained
further.

“What'll ya give me for it?” the punk grinned.
Before Baba could answer, Saejima stepped forward. “How about
we don't snap your finger in half?” he suggested. Now, Baba could
hold his own, but there was no doubt that of the two of them,
Saejima definitely had the look of someone who could split a person
in half if he wanted to. And it pleased Baba to see the punk's face
drain of color. Especially when he noticed Saejima's pin on his jacket.
“Oy!” One of the roadster's friends leaned over the middle shelf,
peering at the scene through bags of chips. “What's your problem,
old man? What, this twink her your boyfriend or somethin'?”
“Sh-shut up, Yoichi-kun,” the first delinquent hissed. He shoved
the formula into Baba's hand. “Here. Just—just take it.”
“Eh?” The punk named Yoichi leaned forward. “What got into
you, man?”
“I said shut up, dude!”
That's when Yoichi noticed Saejima's pin. Rather than cowering,
however, he snorted. “What? You're scared cause this old fuck's a
yakzua? That it?”
That seemed to be the magic word, and soon, every eye in the
store was centered on Saejima and Baba. The other nine of the punks
encircled them, and grew closer. Yoichi walked around the end of the
shelf, and approached, fearless.

597

“He's probably just some grandpa that does the paperwork,” he
reasoned. “I told ya, man. The yakuza here ain't shit. Just a bunch of
gay farts in fancy suits that like to act tough.” The roadsters
snickered, but neither Baba nor Saejima felt the heat. In fact, as they
caught each other's gaze, they shared a smile.

“I guess you know a lot about the families here on the island,”
Saejima said.

“Sure do.”
“I bet you're a native,” Saejima continued. “Born and raised here,
is that right?”
“Yup.”
“Mm.” Saejima rolled his shoulder and stepped forward. As he
approached, Baba saw Yoichi's smile become less confident by the
second. In fact, by the time Saejima was looming over him, he could
almost hear those knees quake in his baggy jeans. “Then lemme ask
you this, son. Do I look like one of your little townie yakuza?” The
sudden fear in Yoichi's eyes said it all. Baba smirked. Leave it to his
aniki to scare the shit out of a couple of po-dunk punks without
lifting a finger.
Unfortunately, the satisfaction didn't last long. Out of the corner
of his eye, Baba noticed one of the punks pull something from his
jacket, aiming for Saejima's back. Baba acted without a second
thought. Dropping his basket of groceries, he sent his foot flying, and
with a precise round-house kick, the delinquent's gun launched
across the store, crashing into one of the window displays. The punk

598

tried going after Baba, but he was too quick, and caught his wild
haymaker by the wrist, using his weight to flip him into a stand of
sweets, destroying it.

All hell broke loose. The punks were on Baba and Saejima like
flies on shit, but even with numbers on their side, they were utterly
outmatched. With Baba and Saejima back to back, the pair fought as
one unit. It was as though no time had been lost between them.

Saejima's strikes knocked back their opponents in waves of brute
force, while Baba's dexterity sent their heads spinning. At one point,
Saejima had actually picked up one of the fallen punks by his ankles,
spun him around like a shot-put, and threw him into his comrades,
knocking all four of them through the wide glass pane.

Baba was almost too distracted to notice one of the roadsters
scrambling out through the back door. Baba was hot on his tail, and
grabbed him before he made it to the dumpsters. With a swift kick to
his inner knee, the delinquent was thrown back into the now
destroyed Poppo's, utterly decimating one of the freezer doors in his
landing. Covered with exploded ice cream, he fell to the ground in a
sugary lump.

With the last man down, Saejima and Baba stood to admire the
wreckage. Turning to Saejima, Baba felt his heart swell in pride and
emotion. Nothing had ever felt more natural than fighting by his
aniki's side. So much so that when Saejima turned to meet his gaze,
Baba couldn't help the heat rise to his neck and ears. He felt like his
heart was about to burst through his eardrums, and offered Saejima

599

nothing but a timid smile. When Saejima returned it, Baba's stomach
twisted with endless butterflies.

“Way I see it? Life's a buffet. I don't like restricting myself to one
plate, you know what I'm sayin'?”

“All right there, Baba-chan?” Saejima asked. Baba could only nod.
“I guess... if you can like both... Maybe I do have feelings for
Saejima-aniki...?”
“Aniki...” Baba's lips were moving before he could stop them. He
didn't know why his mind suddenly went back to that night. Back to
him and Majima, honest about their hearts, hidden from the world.
“I love you, Saejima-aniki!”
Saejima stepped forward, and laid his shovel hand on Baba's
shaved head. “Well, you look all right,” he said. “Still tough as ever.
Good job keepin' up, Baba-chan.” Baba's heart raced. Perhaps, Baba
reasoned, if he couldn't bring himself to tell Saejima in some way
now, perhaps he'd never get a chance to again. It wasn't romantic, it
wasn't perfect. But it might just be the only opportunity Baba would
ever get.
Baba's phone rang. It nearly sent him flying two feet in the air,
but he answered it quickly. “Yeah?”
“Baba-san!” Haruka's voice came through in a panic. “Come
back! Quickly!”
Those fuzzy feelings dropped as Baba stood straighter, now on
high alert. “Sawamura-chan? What's going on?” Saejima also stepped
forward, ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

600