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Kiryu bursts through the hidden entrance to the construction site, the force of his movement so powerful that it causes the door to slam hard into the wall. Majima’s crew immediately reaches for weapons, ready to fight, but they breathe a collective sigh of relief when they see that it’s just Kiryu. He would normally have more tact than making a loud entrance to an alerted group of ex-yakuza after an Omi invasion, but his patience was truly wearing thin.
It took all he could not to tie up his phone with constant calls to Nishida, checking in to see if Majima was alright. After Shindo was dealt with and the invasion was halted at Tojo HQ, Kiryu realized he had a missed call from Sayama. He immediately called back, worried that Majima had taken a turn for the worse, but as soon as the words “construction site” were shared, Kiryu hung up the phone and paid a taxi an incredibly generous amount of yen to speed over to Park Boulevard.
There was a never a doubt in his mind. Majima kept his promise.
Kiryu couldn’t get the image out of his head, the way Majima was hobbling into Theater Square, bloodied and bruised and worse for wear, his chest heaving for the difficulty of each breath. How Majima’s body felt in his arms, how lightweight and fragile he was, how Kiryu tried to be so careful in his cradling of him that he wouldn’t worsen the wounds on his back, his chest, his arms. The way Majima’s hands twitched against him, his fists clenching and unclenching at the struggle to speak, his cracked knuckles seeping more from each movement. Majima’s blood on his hands as he turns away and runs, leaving like he always does…
Promise is a promise, right? I…kept it.
Kiryu replayed the memory over and over in the taxi, replays it again and again still as he strides over to the construction office. He feels the colliding forces of fear and anger, guilt and regret, powerful emotions pulling at him every which way as he nears the office door. He lifts his fist and readies to obliterate the door before Nishida opens it first. Nishida looks sweaty, bloodied, and tired—a normal sight, for the most part—but his cloudy expression makes Kiryu grow cold. He steps back and lowers his fist for Nishida to step outside.
“Oyaji is fine,” Nishida assures him. “He’s in a lot of pain, but nothing medicine and rest won’t fix.”
Kiryu breathes a sigh of relief and thanks him. He waits for the man to move, to step aside so he can go in and see Majima, but nothing happens. Nishida looks away and clenches his fists as he seems to think something over. Kiryu nearly presses him for it when Nishida suddenly fixes him with a hard stare.
“Kiryu-san,” he says firmly. “Oyaji would do anything for you.”
Kiryu’s brow furrows. He feels the guilty weight on his heart grow heavier.
“He cares for you.”
“Nishida—“
“He’d die for you. You know that, right?”
Kiryu freezes. Nishida’s stare softens after a moment of silence.
“Please, Kiryu-san, don’t ask so much of him. One day, there might not be anything left of him to give.”
Kiryu swallows hard and nods stiffly. Nishida bows and prepares to walk away when Kiryu places a large hand upon his shoulder and squeezes.
“You’re a good man, Nishida.”
_____
In retrospect, Majima really should invest in some sort of comfortable sofa or something in his office. All they had that was big enough for his tall frame to lay on was their big plannin’ table in the middle of the room, the usual decor of blueprints, snacks, and energy drinks now scattered haphazardly on the floor.
Nishida was more than qualified to care for Majima’s wounds, having helped him numerous times after his fights while stalkin’—er, trainin’—Kiryu-chan the year prior. He didn’t have any of the good shit on him to help ease Majima’s pain besides an expired bottle of painkillers, but Majima wasn’t picky. In fact, he was feelin’ pretty good after some of those and a sip of whatever was in Minami’s flask, and he would’ve tried more had Nishida not swiped it out of his hands with a quick reprimand.
So Majima tried resting on his planning table as best he could, donned in assorted bandages, grimy leather pants, and blood-caked shoes. His snakeskin jacket made for a passable pillow where it lays bundled beneath his head, his construction helmet resting nearby on the table’s edge. He feels just about ready to pass out between his aches, the drugs, and the mystery alcohol when a dreamy voice catches his attention.
Kiryu-chan?…
He recognizes the other voice as belonging to his captain, and while he can’t hear everythin’ super clearly, he makes out some of Nishida’s words: “oyaji” and “ask so much.” Majima knows Nishida, how much of a tough bastard he is beneath the anxiety and that big heart o’ his, but most of all he knows his captain would do anythin’ to protect him and the family, includin’ talkin’ shit to the ex-chairman of the Tojo Clan.
It wasn’t hard for Majima to imagine how Nishida felt about the whole thing, about his promise to Kiryu. His captain chased after him when he left to fight the Omi but his concerns were ignored. He wouldn’t talk back to his patriarch, but he didn’t have to. Majima could easily see the concern in Nishida’s eyes while he fixed him up.
Majima rolls his head to the side and winces at the stiffness in his neck. He eyes the door and prepares to yell, but before he can growl the promise of Nishida’s next ass beatin’, the door slowly opens. He bites his tongue and closes his eye.
He doesn’t know why he pretends to be fast asleep as Kiryu walks in. Maybe Majima wants to gain some extra sympathy from him? Or maybe he wants to fuck with him a bit, for old times’ sake? He can’t help but think of being kissed awake by his knight in shinin’ armor, and he mentally kicks himself for not gettin’ his boys in on the bit ahead of time. But despite the strong urge to open his eye and open his big mouth, he ultimately decides against it.
Majima breathes peacefully, in and out, in and out, as Kiryu pulls up a chair. He’s surprised when Kiryu takes his hand and holds it in his large paws, his touch soft and warm in the otherwise chilly office. He hears a quiet sigh before his hand is squeezed.
“There aren’t many people left that I trust,” Kiryu says after a while, breaking the silence. “You kept your promise to me. I’m grateful for that.”
Majima holds his tongue, doing his best to keep up his sleepy charade. Kiryu continues.
“The people I care about always get hurt because of me. It’s my fault you got involved in this. You deserve so much better, niisan.” He pauses and squeezes Majima’s hand once more. “I’m sorry.”
Majima fidgets as he absorbs Kiryu’s words, unsure of how to react. He wants to pipe up and tell Kiryu not to be stupid, that he would do anything and everything for Kiryu, consequences be damned. But before Majima could even try to respond, he feels Kiryu lean in closer to brush away some troublesome strands that were stuck to his forehead, as if he knew that Majima was being bothered by their itchy placement due to the dry blood matting them there.
Majima can’t help but shiver at the gentle gesture. He feels Kiryu release his hand and lean away, and before he can mourn the loss, he hears the chair scoot followed by a rustle of fabric. He feels Kiryu’s jacket being draped over his bare torso like a blanket and he instantly relaxes at its warmth, its comfort, its scent of Kiryu-chan. It’s too wonderful and sweet and he feels the pull of sleep drawing near once more, but not before Kiryu whispers something about a goodbye.
“Kiryu-chan…” he mumbles, his eye now refusing to open. “Want you…stay.”
“Majima-san…?“
Please. Don’t go.
The chair scrapes the floor as Kiryu settles back into it. Majima hums softly as Kiryu grabs his hand again, his thumb brushing his battered knuckles in comfort.
“I’m sorry…for everything.“
Shuddup, Majima thinks sleepily as his last bit of awareness focuses on Kiryu’s tender touch. He tries to squeeze back. I’d do anythin’ fer my Kiryu-chan. I love ya, ya sweet dumbass.
“Goro…”
Kazuma.
“I—“
The heaviness of it all kicks in as Majima fades into that hazy plane between consciousness and sleep. He finds himself with his Kiryu-chan and it’s a beautiful dream, a new dream where his feelings are shared, where he receives an admission of love he never before thought possible. It’s only later when Majima wakes that he realizes Kiryu’s words were perhaps pulled not from a fantasy, but a new memory, and he hugs the jacket to him with a sense of hope.