Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Well. Ain't this a real kick in the taint.

The second Majima hits the ice-cold December water of Tokyo Bay, his muscles seize. He can't move, can't breathe, can't do anything but sink deep, deep down into the black. His stab wound had reopened in the fight, and together with the brand new bullet hole it streams murky blood in the water above him, like smoke unfurling from a birthday candle. About to be snuffed out.

It had been such a good day, too. Fighting alongside Kiryu-chan instead of against him, the two of them dancing in sync like some fucked up ballet. They'd learned each other's styles so well that for every spin Majima made, Kiryu would weave; they hadn't spoken a single word during the whole battle, but had instead turned it into a song. A symphony of violence and blood. Majima had even started to wonder if they might finally fuck when all this was finished. In the mad rush of adrenaline his grin was practically feral as he tore through the ex-Dojima men with his tantō.

And then some rat-ass punk with absolutely no respect for an honest fight had gone and fucking shot him. The disrespect! Majima hopes Kiryu has kicked the bastard's teeth so far down his throat he'll have to floss with toilet paper.

Kiryu. Is Kiryu alright? Did he get away? Majima can't turn his head, can only move his lone eye to look to his right; he hopes Kiryu isn't sinking next to him on his blind side. He has to have got away. Majima didn't go through all that for nothing. He didn't go through all of that so they can both fucking die.

He's dying.

His lungs are burning, screaming at him to take a breath, but all he takes in is more water. He can't die now. He can't. Shimano would be furious with him. Saejima would be furious with him. He's got to swim, got to make it back to the surface because only one bastard is allowed to kill him and-

And-

And-

He sinks into the black, his frantic mind spiralling into nothingness.

He can't die now, goddammit.

***

Cold.

That's the first thought that surfaces in the molasses of his brain. Cold. Too cold. Gotta get warm, but he can't even twitch a finger.

Then... a voice? He can hear... something. Someone.

"...do I do? Oyaji, please, I don't- don't do this, please, I don't know what to do! You can't do this!"

Majima would know that walking panic attack anywhere. Nishida. Idiot must have dragged him out of the water just in time. More senses start to come back - he's lying in something squelchy, and he can feel a breeze across his face. He can smell the salinated water and rotten seaweed. His chest hurts like someone dropped a car on him. Still can't move, but he can manage a groan.

A shocked gasp from beside him. "Oyaji?! Are... did you just groan? Oh, please say that was on purpose, please..."

Majima frowns, just about cracking open his eye. "The fuck are ya babblin' about, Nishida?"

Majima suddenly finds himself being pulled into a sitting position by the lapels of his jacket, and then Nishida is crushing him in a bear hug, of all things. Majima doesn't even have the strength to push him off, so he has to accept it even as his skin crawls at the idea of being trapped.

"Oi, Nishida. Ya have a stroke or somethin'? Get off."

To his great annoyance, Nishida doesn't immediately let go. "I thought... I thought you were dead!"

"Well clearly I ain't, so stop squeezin' the life outta my lungs, alright?"

Finally, he's released, falling in a rather undignified manner back onto the muddy shore. He must have been dragged out of the water up to the side - good job it's low tide, or this would be submerged too.

Nishida frets above him, wringing his fingers into knots. "I pulled you out, but... you were floating out there. Face down. And you weren't... breathing any more. I did CPR but I thought... oyaji, I'm so glad you're alright!" He bows deeply, finally irritating Majima enough to force movement into his frozen muscles so that he can slap his captain across the head.

"Fucking dumbass. I ain't never gonna die. Ya hear me? Nobody puts this dog dow-"

He stops suddenly, his whole body convulsing once, twice. He rolls on his side just in time to vomit an entire gut full of black sludge. Nishida skitters back like a terrified beetle, not wanting his boss to hork on his shoes. The bile pours out of Majima at an alarming rate - just how much water did he swallow out there? It feels like three gallons - and just when he thinks the hose has been turned off, a thick and heavy lump gets stuck in his throat. He coughs hard, thumping his bruised chest to try and force it out, spitting onto the ground.

It's white, almost spherical but not quite. Slightly smaller than a golf ball. And it's glowing, faintly, like it's got a shitty LED inside it or something. He and Nishida both stare for several moments.

"I... do not remember eating that."

Nishida peers dubiously at the object, not wanting to get too close. "Maybe it was in the water, and you swallowed it?"

"Yeah. Maybe." Majima clambers shakily to his feet. "People throw random shit in there all the time."

He bends down to pick it up and put it in his pocket. His fingers feel completely numb until he closes them around the orb - even through his glove, it feels oddly warm. Probably because it was just inside his stomach cavity.

He tries not to think too much about anything that just happened as Nishida leads the way back to the car.

***

As they trudge along the concrete loading dock, Nishida keeps glancing nervously back at Majima, like he's worried his boss is going to dissipate into mist at any moment.

"Oi, stop that shit. I keep tellin' ya I'm fine."

"I know you do, oyaji. It's just... it was a long time."

Majima frowns. "How long we talkin', here?"

Nishida's face screws up in that way it always does when he knows Majima won't like what he has to say. "Well. I saw Kiryu-san leave but you weren't with him, so I came looking. Right away! I didn't hesitate one minute!"

"Wait, wait wait. Kiryu-chan. Did he get hurt too?"

Nishida paused in thought. "I don't think he was, not badly anyway. He looked worried, but nothing else."

"Haw? So he just, what, left me there? Did he at least try to jump after? Was his shirt all wet and sexy-like?"

"I... don't think so, oyaji."

"That fucking asshole! After all I do for him, he left me there to drown!" Majima kicks a wooden crate in frustration, hard enough to splinter a corner of the box. He's so mad that it doesn't even hurt. "I could have died if ya weren't quick enough!"

"Well, that's- that's what I was saying, oyaji. I didn't think I had been."

"Oh, right. You were regaling me with the tale of your daring rescue. Carry on."

An anxious nod. "So, I came straight here as soon as I realised something was wrong. But I didn't know where you were. The Dojima men were mostly knocked out, and you weren't on the pier anywhere. I checked all over! I think it was... maybe ten minutes before I saw your jacket."

Majima stops walking.

"Ten minutes?"

Nishida nods, looking at his feet. "And you were face down."

Majima's mind reels at the idea. You aren't supposed to survive five minutes without oxygen, let alone ten. And that's not counting how long it was between Majima going in the water and Kiryu getting away. Sure, there's those crazy pearl diving folks who can hold their breath for ages, but Majima smokes two packs a day and can barely do doggy paddle.

Maybe it was the cold? The water had felt like ice across his body, and he’s still fucking freezing now. It could have put him in some kind of stasis, like those rich bastards who get put in tubes so they can be brought back to life in a thousand years. Yeah, that sounds about right.

“Shit, Nishida. Guess I’m the luckiest man alive.”

Unfortunately, only half of that statement is true.

Chapter Text

After they get to the car and start driving back to Kamurocho, Nishida continues his trend of being the most irritating mother hen in the world by insisting they go to Dr Emoto's clinic.

"You should get checked over! You nearly drowned, and you were shot at!"

Majima kicks the back of the driver's seat. "No fuckin' way. I told ya a thousand times, I'm fine. I just wanna go back to my place and have a shower so I can get all the fish crap out o' my hair."

A shower would be warm, too. The cold of the Bay has only sunk further into his bones since he woke up.

"No, I'm insisting. We must make sure you're alright."

"Tsch. As if I've ever been alright." Rolling his eye, Majima goes to open the car door, uncaring of their current speed.

The door doesn't budge as he pulls the handle.

"The fuck?"

Nishida glances back at him with a nervous smile. "Ah, sorry, oyaji. I got child locks installed after last time."

"Child- I ain't a child!" He kicks the chair again, and then presses the button to roll down his window. "And cause I ain't a child, I can do this."

With the window now wound as far down as he can get it, Majima reaches to the outside door handle, pops it open, and dives out onto the asphalt.

He can hear Nishida's screech of alarm just as loudly as the brakes, the car fishtailing across the road as he stands back up. Majima flips the car off and starts walking.

Nishida's head sticks out of the driver seat window. "Okay! You made your point, oyaji! Just get back in the car and I'll take you where you want. Please?"

"Ya sure about that? Ya ain't gonna bundle me up in a booster seat and tell me I get a lollipop and a sticker if I'm good for the doctor?"

A very weary sigh. "I'll take you home, I promise. I know you'll only hurt yourself more if I don't."

Majima nods, satisfied. "About time ya did what I told ya." He gets back in the car and winds the window up again. "Turn the heater on too, will ya? My balls are growing icicles back here."

***

By the time they get back to Majima's apartment complex, Nishida's shirt is drenched in sweat, and Majima is barely tepid. Maybe he is coming down with something, but no way in the seven hells is he going to say that to Captain Worrywart. He'll have a shower, take a handful of whatever medicine he has in the cabinet, and sleep this all off. Then it's back to causing chaos and personally ruining the day of one Dragon of Dojima.

He still can't believe Kiryu left him there. Fucking bastard. Next time they meet, he's not holding anything back.

He waves a dismissive goodbye to Nishida, ignoring his captain's babbling concern as he takes the lift up to his suite. Unlocking the front door, he leaves a trail of damp clothing behind him like he's being raptured in slow motion until he's stood naked in the bathroom.

His reflection startles him as he walks past the sink, and he stops to double check. Shit. No wonder Nishida had been pissing himself; he looks like total garbage. Ashy skin, bloodshot eye. Under the patch, his scarred eyelid looks even more sunken and bleak than usual, practically concave. He bares his teeth at Mirror Majima and the grimace that meets him has grey gums, which is... unsettling.

And then there's the bullet hole in his gut. He hadn't looked at it too hard in the car - after all, if it wasn't bleeding, it couldn't be that bad. But in the unforgiving artificial light of his bathroom, it sure doesn't look like the kind of thing you could kiss better. The wound itself is small, and it doesn't feel like much when he prods at it, but then his finger goes all the way in and nope, no, nope. Not thinking about that. He hastily gets in the shower and turns the water on full blast.

Even with the temperature cranked up to the highest it can go, the chill he feels is unmoved. In fact, as his skin warms on the surface, everything beneath seems only to grow colder in response, like a skittish animal fleeing the brightness of the sun.

Shove that in the back with the rest of the hastily stacked concerns he's very much ignoring.

Majima turns the water off after a few minutes and wraps a towel tight around himself. The mirror has steamed up, so he doesn't have to look at his fucked-up face as he grabs a couple of tramadol and a few other loose tablets of dubious origin. Can't make him any worse, right? Right.

He crawls into bed, pulling the blankets over himself in a cocoon, and sinks down into a deep, dark sleep.

He dreams.

Or perhaps he remembers.

***

Everything is bright. Dazzling, gleaming light, from all angles. It should hurt to look at, but there's no pain; just an oddly disembodied feeling, like his head is a helium balloon six feet above his body. After a few moments, his vision adjusts enough to see that the light isn't as blankly uniform as he'd first assumed - there are shadows and the suggestion of shapes. Circles and loops and spirals. No straight edges, everything curved round in endless pearlescent swirls that make him dizzy.

Majima takes a step forward and the ground shifts beneath his weight. Instead of solid footing, he’s balanced across an infinite ocean of white orbs, each one glowing bright with some internal life. Everything in this place is made of them, growing up in twisted stalagmites and alien configurations that would be impossible if the laws of physics were even remotely involved.

What the fuck is this place?

He takes another step, and the crunch of his footstep is echoed behind him twice, four times.

Not an echo.

Not alone.

He whips round, ready to fight whoever is trying to sneak up on him, but the sight before him freezes him completely in his tracks.

It looks like a woman, in the way that a crude sketch drawn in pitch darkness might vaguely resemble a human shape. Two gangly arms prop up a skeletal torso and a head covered in long white hair. The shoulders bend too far back, almost touching behind the spine. Beneath emaciated breasts is a huge, distended stomach dragging along the ground as the creature pulls herself forward with hands large enough to crush a skull. The legs seem almost an afterthought, writhing in her wake and knocking dozens of orbs to either side.

As Majima watches, unable to move, the creature plucks one of the orbs between two slender fingers and holds it up to her face. From behind the curtain of hair, a prehensile tongue reaches out and wraps around the orb, and its glow begins to flicker and fade. After only a few moments, the light dies out, and the creature throws her head back to swallow the black sphere whole. Her jaw hangs loose against her neck, dislocated entirely, and Majima can hear as the orb falls into the creature’s stomach and knocks against what must be hundreds of others in there.

He has no idea what is going on, but he knows he needs to be far, far away from it. Just slowly back away, keep enough distance that she can’t-

Oh, of course he bumps into one of the stacks and sends it scattering everywhere. Of course. Because Majima Goro can never catch a fucking break, even in his dreams. Well, she’s definitely noticed him; her head cracks round to find the source of the noise, lower jaw swinging with the movement. Her eyes are two empty cavities in her skull, but he knows she can see him. He’s all she wants now.

Majima braces himself for a fight. Come try me, you spooky bitch.

It turns out the legs are very much not vestigial, as the creature draws herself up on all fours and sprints towards him with an inhuman screech. Majima ducks low, throwing himself backwards as an enormous claw swipes the air where his chest had been moments before. He kicks up, aiming for that awful jaw, but when his leg makes contact with her neck it’s like impacting solid concrete. The shockwave of it travels all the way down to his hip and the leg goes numb immediately.

Shit. He’s fought through worse, but it really doesn’t bode well for his chances. He tries again, aiming a solid punch at her shoulder, wanting to get her off balance. Instead, he’s the one left staggered by the immovable object, the momentum of his punch rippling back down his arm painfully.

This time when she swings for him, she connects with his head, truly rattling his brain and sending him sprawling.

If he takes even a second to recover, he knows he's fucked. So with his mind spinning and his vision completely gone, he drags himself up on unsteady feet and blindly launches towards the one place on this abomination that could possibly be a weak spot. With no tantō, he grabs cold flesh in his hands and tears into that disgusting bloated stomach. At first there’s resistance, but then it gives under his twisting grasp and rips apart.

His eyesight returns just long enough to completely white out again in the furious explosion of stolen energy bursting from the creature. The shockwave rips through him with a roar louder than a thousand screaming voices, tearing with such force that it feels like being blasted apart into atoms. He's pushed back, back, away, and down. Falling, the floor parting beneath him. An endless, eternal fall in blinding nothingness.

Until he hits the bottom.

***

Majima wakes up with a shout, tangled in his sheets and halfway across the room. It takes him several moments before he realises where he is, let alone that there's some annoying noise coming from somewhere. Ringing. Ringing? Ah, his phone. Only two people ever phone him, and Nishida wouldn't want to bother his beauty sleep, so that only leaves Supreme Asshole Number One.

Just his fucking luck that the phone survived a dunk in the ocean. Shaking his head to clear the last drifting remnants of his dream, he stumbles out to the lounge where he left his jacket and wrestles with it until the phone falls out of his pocket. Caller ID confirms his suspicions, and he flips the phone open with tight lips.

“Yo.”

“Majima.” He can hear as Shimano takes a deep drag on his cigar. “Ya haven’t checked in lately.”

“What, I gotta read out my diary to ya? I’m busy.”

“Kiryu Kazuma is still walking around town swinging his dick like he owns all of Kamurocho. I thought I told ya to get him out of my way?”

Majima scowls. “I did! I took that, that snot-nosed brat of his. Kept him real busy. So I think I could get a little breathing room before ya slap my fuckin’ knuckles.”

Shimano, of course, has never had a considerate moment in his entire life. “I don’t give a fuck what ya think. I give an order, ya follow it. That patriarch-killer needs putting down. Or is that gonna be a problem?”

Gritting his teeth, Majima counts to ten and taps the bridge of his nose. “No. No problem. You say jump, I say how high.”

“That’s better. Results, Majima. Or else.”

The call cuts off, and Majima throws his phone across the room. Gods, he wishes he could just… tear Shimano into pieces. Crack open his ribcage and rip his heart out to eat raw. Swallow it in one delectable gulp. Chomp chomp.

What was he doing? Oh, he’s still naked. Should probably get some clothes on. He picks his jacket up again to slide it over his shoulders and realises something else had fallen out of the pockets with his phone.

A small round orb, glowing faintly white. The thing he’d thrown up earlier. The thing the creature in his dream had devoured, and that the other world had been entirely made of.

“…Okay, now I’m getting freaked out.”

He crouches down to look closer at it. The surface is slightly rough, like a pearl, and it does indeed resemble some kind of precious gemstone. Could that be it? He swallowed a pearl in the ocean somehow, and threw it back up? Gingerly, he prods it with a finger.

When he’d been wearing his gloves, the pearl had felt a little tingly. Now with bare skin, a honeyed blanket of warmth spreads up his hand from the point of contact. It’s such a blessed relief from the cold that he gasps in shock, snatching the pearl up tight and squeezing like he can pour it directly into his veins. His legs give out and he topples forward, his forehead pressed into the ground as he clutches his hand to his chest. The warmth continues to pool down his arms and across his torso, spreading giddy euphoria as it goes. He’s never felt this incredible in his life.

But then it stops.

Bereft, he whines pitifully as the sensation starts to fade. He falls limply to the side and slowly unclenches his iron grip from the pearl. His hand is pinker, his skin no longer ashen, but the pearl has gone completely black. All light and warmth drained.

More. He needs more.

Chapter Text

It's pitch dark when Majima emerges out onto the streets of Kamurocho, which seems fitting. Seeing it in the daylight always feels obscene; the lurid neon signs and barely legal businesses should never suffer the indignity of being exposed to the unforgiving light of the sun. And neither should Majima, especially right now.

He's dressed himself and wrapped a quick bandage around his midriff to avoid the worst of the stares. Majima doesn't care about attention most of the time, but causing a scene because he's got two holes in his gut would make things difficult. His face must look pissed as hell, too - civilians part around him like a terrified wave, not daring to get in the way of his determination.

His gloves back on, he clutches the blackened pearl tight with a clenched fist. Nothing he tries seems to get more out of the bastard thing. Not burning, not cutting, not sucking it in his mouth. He can't crush it up to snort or even figure out how it worked in the first place. Whatever it had been full of before has clearly been depleted, so he needs to find another way.

Majima's not an idiot. He knows what getting high feels like. But this was the most spectacular, bombastic high of his entire life, and the comedown is an absolute bitch. It feels like inch-long flaming needles being pierced into his whole body, and like every tiny twitch of a muscle is going to wrench flesh clean off the bone. If he can't take some of that edge off soon, he's going to completely lose his mind.

You don't run a major crime organisation without decent knowledge of the other businesses in town. The Tojo Clan likes to present as being above the seedier smuggling rings, but all they really do is outsource to the lower, easily scapegoated gangs. Plausible deniability. So someone at the family office might be able to tell him where this thing came from, and how to get more. If none of his boys know, Majima will just start cracking heads until he gets the answer he needs.

With his usual flair, he kicks open the door to the office. "Oi! Nishida!"

A startled face looks up at him. Not Nishida - too much hair, too loud a shirt. One of the door guards. Hisashi, Majima thinks his name is. Some baby-face barely out of his cups. "Oh, uh, Nishida isn't here, sir. He went out on a job an hour or so ago."

"Course he fuckin' did." Majima searches through his pockets for his phone, only belatedly realising he'd left it back on the floor of his apartment. "Fuck's sake."

"What's that?"

Hisashi is frowning slightly, looking at the pearl clutched in Majima's hand.

"What, this?" Majima grins wildly. "This, kid, is the real shit. Ya ever seen somethin' like it before? I'm tryin' to figure out what it is."

Hisashi shakes his head, still frowning in consideration as he works his three brain cells extra hard for the boss. "Let's see?" He holds a hand out to look closer.

Majima hesitates, reluctant to give away his treasure. But it had already run out, right? So it can't do any harm. He'll take it back right after.

He hands over the pearl for Hisashi to look at.

As soon as Hisashi's fingers touch it, he jerks stiffly, his body going rigid and his eyes wide. Majima can only watch in stunned surprise as the pearl he'd spent an hour trying to puzzle out starts to glow again. What the fuck?! He'd thought it was all gone! No way is he about to let some low rate chinpira steal his fix!

He snatches the pearl back, his entire world narrowing to that single precious object. Fuck the clan, fuck Shimano, fuck everything he has ever cared the remotest bit about. All that matters is feeling that warmth again. Taking his gloves off would be too slow, so he presses it against his bare chest instead.

Oh, that's what he needed. The needles withdraw from his skin, and he's wrapped in that glorious bliss once again. He moans, his eye fluttering shut and his legs going weak as it washes over him. Better than the most intense, fucked raw orgasm. Better than anything he'd ever tried before.

And then it's barely even started before it's gone again, far quicker than last time. He growls in frustration and turns to chew Hisashi out for ruining everything, but-

But Hisashi isn't standing there any more.

It takes Majima an embarrassingly long second to realise that the kid is flat out on the floor. He must have gone over once Majima had snatched the pearl away. Too rich for his blood, maybe?

"Hey, kid." Majima kicks his shoe. "No snoozin' on the job."

Hisashi doesn't move.

"...Hisashi-kun? Don't tell me ya had a heart attack or somethin'."

Majima crouches down above him. There is a rather worrying grey tone to Hisashi's skin, but he still seems to be breathing. Majima does pull a glove off now, so he can check for a pulse.

Okay, good. Pulse is there, pretty strong. Majima didn't accidentally kill the poor bastard. But the skin under his touch is also cold, contrasting with the renewed warmth of Majima's hand.

A large piece of the puzzle clicks into place.

He picks up the pearl, fully darkened once more, and holds it just above Hisashi's forehead. Not quite touching, but close enough.

It flickers with an inner life, drawing energy from Hisashi like a battery charging up. The tiniest amount of it seeps back into Majima's veins, like the worst kind of edging.

Oh.

He'd assumed that this was some crazy powerful new narcotic. Smuggled across the Bay, lost in the water until Majima accidentally picked it up. But now, seeing how it behaves... how it draws something out of other people and feeds it back to Majima...

It isn't something that he'd swallowed and thrown back up again. This thing had been inside him the whole time. It's supposed to still be inside him. Because. Because.

No-

That-

Absolutely fucking not-

He is not- never!

He bundles all those anxious thoughts together and shoves them with the rest; the hastily stacked pile now held behind an incredibly strained door. He's fine. He's fine. Majima Goro is fucking perfect, because there's no alternative worth considering.

All that matters is that he's figured out how his- how the pearl works. It takes some sort of energy from other people, right? Hisashi clearly hadn't been able to handle it, being the soft untrained little baby that he is.

But Majima knows someone who has more than enough energy to spare. Someone who owes him a serious payback. Someone who might be able to fix- no, there's nothing to fix. Nothing except a grudge.

He leaves Hisashi snoozing on the carpet and stalks back into the street to find his prey.

***

In hindsight, the truck might have been a bit much. But it sure makes one hell of an entrance crashing through the door of Shangri-La, scattering Nishikiyama's goons and getting the attention of the man of the hour. And really, what is Majima if not the most dramatic bitch in any room he enters?

He stumbles out of the cab and into the rubble, already a maelstrom of chaos and fury before Kiryu opens his fucking mouth and says the worst sentence in the history of time.

"Majima-san. I'm... surprised you're still alive."

creak crack goes the door in Majima's head, and anything resembling reason and planning is immediately discarded. He had wanted to play it cool, to goad Kiryu into fighting first, but instead he launches across the room with a shriek and a flash of steel. It's a surprise attack, but he's been training Kiryu for this for weeks, and the other man swiftly sidesteps the blade while moving Haruka out of harm's reach.

Majima barely pauses, swinging round to meet Kiryu again. He spins his tantō in an arc; left, right, left; keeping Kiryu on the backfoot with a manic grin. Just got to wear him down and get close. Then he can take everything he needs.

Kiryu's better than that, of course. As soon as there's an opening on Majima's blind side, he delivers a fierce punch to the ribs with enough strength to send Majima sprawling across the floor.

Or at least, it would do before. This time, the impact feels like the lightest of caresses and Majima doesn't even grunt. They both look down at Kiryu's clenched fist in surprise.

"Kiryu-chan, are ya holding back for little old me?" Majima tilts his head, amused enough to pause his assault. "Worried ya might add to my war wounds?"

Kiryu's trademark frown deepens significantly. "I know better than to hold back against you, nii-san." He tries again, this time going for a strong headbutt. Proper technique - hard part of his head against the soft bridge of Majima's nose.

Instead of his own crunching tissue and tendon, Majima feels Kiryu's head snap back with recoil. Kiryu grunts in pain as he staggers away, clutching his whiplashed neck.

Like impacting solid concrete.

Majima laughs. Not his overly theatrical cackle, or his deep amused chuckle. A truly balls-out unhinged laugh that echoes through the fake marble hallways and makes Kiryu look at him with genuine fear.

Good. You should be scared of monsters.

Majima rushes towards Kiryu again, tackling him down to the ground, and the ground rumbles and collapses with them. The impact from the truck must have made the whole floor unstable, stone and tile caving in and giving way entirely around them. They fall through to the basement, Kiryu landing winded on his back and Majima on hands and knees that absolutely should have broken, but only absorb the impact across his body as easily as smiling.

Kiryu is trying to catch his breath and get up, but Majima is faster. He pins Kiryu to the floor and leans in close, his eye wide.

"Ya did somethin' real bad to me, Kiryu-chan. Time to make amends."

Before Kiryu can even have the chance to be confused, Majima tears open a couple more buttons on that red shirt and presses the pearl directly above Kiryu's heart.

Just like Hisashi had, Kiryu spasms and convulses, but Majima was right - Kiryu is strong and he stays conscious as the pearl glows bright, brighter than ever, brighter than blinding. Exactly what he needs.

Majima doesn't bother pressing the pearl to his own skin this time. Instead, he sits back on his haunches, opens his mouth wide enough to hear his jaw crack, and swallows it whole.

It's like a nuclear reactor of dopamine in his chest. Like he's filled with the heart of a star. Like he's the most powerful motherfucker in the universe and nobody can stop him. He laughs again, looking down at Kiryu's alarmed face beneath him, and bends down to kiss him.

For a few moments, Kiryu allows it, but then he seems to regain his senses enough to slap Majima across the face with an open palm.

It stings.

It stings and Majima presses a hand to his lip to find it split and bleeding. Did it work? Was it enough?

But then his fingers start to go numb and his chest shudders with spent energy and no, no it wasn't enough.

He's still dead.

With a final look down at Kiryu beneath him, pale, panting, and completely lost, Majima runs.

Chapter Text

Kiryu can hear voices as he drifts in and out of awareness, his head swimming and his body weighed down with lead.

"-away from the hole, Haruka-chan. It's too dangerous."

"But uncle Kaz fell down there! We have to make sure he's okay!"

Haruka? He needs to get to Haruka, right now. Has to protect her. He groans and tries to push himself up to a sitting position, but someone swapped his arms and legs round when he wasn't paying attention and he can't figure out how to realign them.

"Kiryu-san?" A woman. Akemi. He can see her peering down from the ceiling with a worried expression. "Don't try to move! You might have broken something."

Kiryu swallows thickly, his mouth filled with plaster dust and the tang of copper. "I... I'm alright. Is Haruka safe?"

"She's fine. I have her up here. I'm going to get her and the other girls out of the building and then we'll send someone to help you. Don't move!"

He grunts a reply, letting his head fall back against the rubble. Nothing hurts, but it does feel like the whole building came down on top of him rather than beneath him. He's just so exhausted, his eyes closing before he even realises.

He wakes up again with a jolt, someone shaking him and shouting his name. It takes a moment before the blurry face crystalises into recognition.

"Date-san...? Why are you here?"

Date tuts. "There was a commotion in Kamurocho, so obviously you were at the heart of it. Came running as soon as I heard the crash. Did you hit your head? You should stay awake if you can."

Kiryu shakes his head. "No, I'm fine. I think... I think Majima tazed me." He can recall a jolt in his chest, a feeling like every nerve was activating at once. Plus a few other details that Date doesn't need to know right now.

Date looks supremely unimpressed. "Yes, I heard he was involved. Come on, if you're not hurt then we need to get you out before the whole place comes down around our ears."

Date gets him to his feet and the two of them stagger up the basement steps and out into the back alley. The cool air clears Kiryu's head a little, and the cigarette offered by Date helps even more.

"Haruka?" he asks after taking a drag.

"Had a few of the girls take her to West Park. Didn't know what condition you'd be in when I got to you, so I wanted her somewhere safe."

Kiryu nods gratefully. "I'll go there soon."

"You should get checked out first. Who knows what damage that lunatic did to you?"

"Majima-san isn't crazy," Kiryu replies, almost automatically. Until this evening, he'd believed that entirely. 'Mad Dog' moniker or not, the Majima he's been encountering constantly since being released from prison has seemed nothing but meticulously calculated. Even his wildest moves are deliberate, designed to get the specific reaction he wants. And he's a damn good actor, able to convince even his own men that he'd wanted Kiryu dead until taking the knife himself.

But this time had been different. The strange, almost disjointed way Majima had moved, like an animatronic with an ill-fitting shell. How he'd not only completely ignored Kiryu's blows but somehow ricocheted them back.

That last look down, full of anguish and despair.

Date is unmoved, of course. "He drove a truck into a building so he could taze you."

"Mm." And half a day before that, he'd thrown down at Kiryu's side. Been shot for him, even.

Guilt squeezes Kiryu's chest at the memory. He hadn't wanted to leave Majima behind, but the gunshot and the blood had scrambled him completely. He could hear Shinji crying out in pain and see Reina's glassy eyes staring blankly past him. He'd run away before he even realised his legs were moving, only coming back to himself when he'd staggered all the way to the highway and nearly been hit by a car.

He'd been truly grateful to see Majima alive in the half a second before the fight started. Now he's sure his own failure has only gained him another enemy. Kiryu leans back against the dirty alleyway wall, his head pounding and his legs full of sand. He's just so tired, but he can't stop until all this is done.

Date stubs out his cigarette with a sigh. "How about I take Haruka-chan tonight, and you actually get some sleep?"

"Hm? No. I can't. Akemi gave me the lead I needed, so I have to-"

Date pushes down on Kiryu's shoulder with the lightest of pressure, and Kiryu's legs almost give out.

"Do you think you're in any condition to do anything at all?"

"I can still-"

"No, Kiryu. You can't. Not right now. If you won't go to hospital, at least rent a hotel for the night and actually sleep. All that happens if you rush in is total disaster."

Kiryu wants to argue. Kazama is so close, and he might finally get some answers to this ten-billion yen nightmare. But he also can't deny that he's wrecked, and nobody would give answers to a corpse. Maybe one night would be alright.

"You'll make sure Haruka is safe?"

"She can blackmail Saya into giving her a makeover. She'll be fine."

Kiryu manages the smallest smile. "Thank you, Date-san. I'll... get that rest."

After one last reassurance that the world can wait a day for Kiryu Kazuma, he stumbles out to the nearest taxi rank. On autopilot, he directs the cab to Tenkaichi Street instead of the Hotel District.

Serena isn't exactly the most comforting place to be right now, but it's close, and he knows it will be quiet. He can sleep for as long as he needs. He heads up the back stairs and through to the storeroom where his makeshift futon is still set up, crawls inside still fully dressed, and passes out within moments.

***

Kiryu wakes slowly and with great effort, his head fizzing and his mouth full of dust and marbles. He can hear the clinking of bottles and glasses - Reina must have one of her regulars in. Maybe Kiryu can get a few more hours' sleep if they keep the noise down.

He sits up with a jolt as he realises that that's impossible. Reina is dead, and no customer would come here now. A break-in, then? Someone looking for cash, maybe taking the more expensive drinks? Silently, he gets up from the futon, opening the door the tiniest crack so he can peer out unnoticed.

It's Majima.

Majima is here.

Why is Majima here? Is he after another fight? Clearly he doesn't just want Kiryu dead, or he'd have taken the chance while he was sleeping. Kiryu’s been out cold for hours. Still hidden, he watches to see what the other man is up to.

He's... making cocktails.

Or an approximation of a cocktail, anyway. Kiryu knows Majima can craft a good drink, but what he's doing right now would be better described as a crime than an art. Taking bottles entirely at random, pouring dozens of different alcohols into a single glass until it's completely full. Downing it in one go, looking disappointed, then starting again. From the looks of the scattered selection across the bar, he must have been doing this for a while, but he doesn't seem drunk. Just... odd. Still moving weirdly. His hands and elbows bend too far sometimes, or his head tilts at an angle that Kiryu is sure must hurt. It's unsettling in a way he can't quite understand.

"If ya don't stop peepin' at me like that, I'm gonna have to charge ya."

Startled and embarrassed, Kiryu comes through to the bar. "I didn't know what you were doing. Thought I should wait." He frowns, his embarrassment replaced by indignation. "You watch me all the time."

"Twenty four seven, Kiryu-chan." He taps below his eye as he sing-songs, drawing attention to how sunken it is. His pupil looks tiny, too. Is he strung out? That definitely would explain a few things.

As if sensing Kiryu's thoughts, Majima quickly breaks eye contact and turns away, running a hand through his hair. "Don't even need to watch ya now," he mutters. "Can hear ya loud as day, like fuckin' dinner bells. Ting ting ting, here's one that's hot an' ready."

"What are you talking about?" No answer to that, so he tries a different line. "Why are you here, Majima-san?"

"Haw? Obviously I wanted to get drunk. Kept gettin' stared at everywhere else. Freaking out all the customers. So I came somewhere with no customers. But it doesn't fuckin' work. Nothing works!" He paces around behind the bar, directionless and frenetic.

Kiryu sits down on a stool, hoping he can impart some stillness on Majima by example. "How much have you had, exactly?"

"Enough to drown a whale." He flops bodily across the counter like a ragdoll. "Can't even taste it. Can't feel it. Can't feel anything." He lifts his head up so he can smack it into the wood, his face pressed into the grain. "See? Nothin'."

"You… don't seem well, nii-san."

That earns him a laugh like the one from the night before, hollow and broken. It makes him shiver, goosebumps prickling his neck.

"Yeah, I got a real bad case o' the sniffles."

Kiryu sighs. "I know you might not want to talk to me, given how everything went yesterday. But if there's a way I can help, I will."

A much more bitter laugh this time. "What's this, Kiryu-chan? You're worried about my well-being now?" Majima lifts his head to look at Kiryu properly, linking his hands under his chin. "Bit late for that, ain't it?"

Majima meets his gaze with a challenge, but there's something else. Something Kiryu is missing.

He realises with sudden clarity that he's seen this expression before. Majima isn't strung out or looking for a tenuous reason to fight. The wide eye, the strained face. Desperate screaming panic hidden behind an attempt at calm that cracks more with each passing second.

Nishiki had looked like that just after he'd shot Dojima.

Just like his kyoudai, Majima is standing at the edge of a deep abyss, and he's about to plummet.

Kiryu isn't letting that happen this time.

"Tell me what's going on."

Majima's face softens a little as he glances away again. "Nothin' ya can help with."

"I don't care. Tell me anyway."

"Ya don't need ol' Majima complaining about his bullshit. Ya got your own circus as it is."

"No. Tell me so you won't be alone."

That gets Majima's attention. He searches Kiryu's eyes for the slightest hint of deception, a knife held behind the olive branch. Kiryu gets the impression that Majima has very little room in his heart for trust; a dog beaten too many times will bite any hand, even one offered in friendship. But if Kiryu can prove he's worth even the smallest chance, maybe Majima will let him in.

"Ya really wanna know?" he asks, eye narrowed in suspicion.

"I do."

For a moment, Kiryu thinks it might be enough. But then Majima scoffs, the walls go back up, and the opportunity is gone. "We both know what really happens when the cards are down." He shrugs, playing off the weight on his shoulders like it's nothing when Kiryu can see him being crushed. "I should head off. Let ya get some more beauty sleep. Ya look like shit."

He heads for the door, but Kiryu is just behind him. He knows if he lets Majima go now, the next time they meet might be too late.

"Nii-san. You came here for a reason."

Majima huffs, stopping. "Yeah. I told ya already. Wanted to get drunk."

"I'm sure there's plenty of quiet places you could have found if that was what you wanted. So. Why here?"

There's a blade under his chin before he can even react. Majima is always fast, but that was fast.

"Don't fuckin' test me right now, Kazuma."

Kiryu lifts his head enough to stop the knife from cutting into his skin. "It's just a question."

A withering look, and the blade is put away. "Fuckin' idiot. This is all your fault, ya know. I wouldn't- I wouldn't be this if- ya gotta back far away, cause I am tryin' real hard to find reasons not to kill ya and that list is gettin' short."

Kiryu tries to connect what few dots he has available to him. "Is... that it? Have you been ordered to kill me? I know Shimano-"

"Oh, fuck Shimano. That bald-headed egotistical psychopath's got nothin' to do with this. He can't even do- he. Wait. He can't..."

A monumental realisation seems to strike Majima, a frankly terrifying grin spreading across his face. "He can't even do anything."

Kiryu has barely had time to react to this before Majima is right in his face, giggling.

"Hey, Kiryu-chan. Hit me. Harder the better."

"I'm not fighting you right now."

"Aw, come on. I'm beggin' ya here. Just smack me around with those glazed ham hands."

Kiryu shakes his head, wary of how rapidly Majima is spiralling up into mania. "You know the rule. Never without a reason."

Majima rolls his eye and pouts like a spoiled child. "No fun at all, Kiryu-chan. But it's okay! We already know punching's no good, right? Learned that little lesson last night. Didn't even bruise my handsome face."

That was true. The fight at Shangri-La had been... different. Kiryu had felt outmatched in a way he hadn't since their first reunion, and he's still worn out even now.

"So," Majima continues, spinning on his heel, his finger tapping his temple in gleeful thought. "Can't be hit. Can't be kicked. Can't be any of that. Burning ain't gonna do shit if I can still move. What about sharps?"

Kiryu goes to put his hands on Majima's shoulders and hold him still, but it's easily evaded when the man he's trying to wrangle can turn like the wind. Majima doesn't even notice the attempt at a grab, all fluid energy and movement without direction.

"Sharps, then." His tantō unsheathed again, Majima tosses it from hand to hand.

"Maybe we should put the knife down," Kiryu says, keeping his voice level. Placating. Like talking down a rabid tiger, or a child wielding fire.

The grin on Majima's face is feral, and that wild, panic-freefall look is in his eye again. "What's the matter? Worried I might do something like this?"

And Majima stabs himself in the gut, dragging the blade deep from left to right and carving his stomach open.

Kiryu screams, unable to even fully process what just happened in the instant before reality careens off-balance. He rushes to desperately hold the wound together, to keep the organs inside, to stop the- the… blood. There's... there's not any blood?

"Huh. Guess sharps do still work."

Kiryu looks up at Majima in horror. "Why did you do that?! We- we have to get help, now!" The flesh under his hands already feels cold and there still isn't blood but it's got to be bad and there's nobody to help them, it's happening again he's failed again-

"Look at you! Such concern!" Majima twists his head to the side and Kiryu can hear the bone crunch. He's losing someone else and there's nothing he can do about it, but he still holds the wound like he can pinch it all together and stop the inevitable. His heart is thundering and his vision is going at the edges but he is not letting go. He is not. He is not.

There's a gentle hand at the base of his skull, tangling fingers in his hair. "Hey. Kiryu-chan. It's alright."

Kiryu shakes his head. More pressure. Just keep the pressure.

"Your chance to save my life was yesterday. Missed the bus by that much."

"Don't talk like that! You can't just give up!"

"Hey. Look at me."

Another shake of the head. "I'm not letting go."

"You're about to pass out and you're gonna hit the floor like a sack of shit."

Oh, they're... still standing. Majima can still stand? How is he still standing when he's practically sliced himself in half?!

"Come on. Sit down, get your head between your knees."

Kiryu won't let that happen. He'll stay here forever if he has to, even as his legs shake and his breathing stops and- and Majima puts him on the floor. He still reaches to keep that pressure, the only thing that matters. "Please, nii-san. Just let me help!"

"Head between your knees, Kaz. I ain't goin' nowhere."

Finally, Kiryu obeys, pressing his head to the floor with a barely-contained sob. He feels Majima rest a hand in his hair again, and at least it means he's still here for now. For however long they have.

Kiryu breathes slowly, trying to get in control as quickly as he can. Majima still hasn't moved, still is sat next to him. Maybe... it wasn't as bad as he thought? Did he overreact, misinterpreting what he saw? Overlay the wrong memories like he had at the pier?

He lifts his head to look up, and Majima is knelt right there next to him. One hand on Kiryu's head, the other arm wrapped around the wound in his stomach. He smiles sadly. "See? Ain't goin' nowhere."

"I don't understand."

A shrug. "Took me a while to work it out, too. Are ya gonna be okay there for a sec? I'm gonna find a bandage so things ain't so squishy."

Kiryu doesn't have any fight left in him to argue as Majima stands to search the storage room. He hears the sound of... tape? Duct tape. Trust Majima to treat a near-fatal wound with tape. But he's still there. He's still moving, still talking. Still being Majima. He comes back into the bar with his abdomen wrapped in silver and sits on the sofa, lighting a cigarette. After a couple of drags, he pulls a face and stubs it out. "Dammit, even this?"

Kiryu manages to get back up and he joins Majima on the sofa. "I think... I've earned some answers now."

Majima nods. "Yeah. Shit. Alright, yeah. Long as ya don't freak out on me again. Ya really killed the fun."

"I'll try."

And so Majima explains as much as he knows, and what he understands so far.

To his credit, Kiryu only freaks out a little bit.

Chapter Text

Majima can feel half of Kamurocho as he steps outside Serena and heads down the street. Or, not feel exactly. Hear, smell? Some weird new sense he can't quite describe, like suddenly growing a third arm or a tail and trying to work out how to control it. Whatever it is, it's getting stronger.

When he first noticed, it had just been Kiryu, like a beacon blasting out across the sky. Bright and delicious, inviting him in as he'd headed to the bar earlier in the night. Then he'd realised he could also feel that kid from his office, but significantly weaker. That had made sense - it was people he'd taken energy from. Letting him know they were still brimming for a harvest.

But now, after having spent a couple hours explaining to Kiryu that he really doesn't know fuck all about what is going on or how it works, he's found even more insane nonsense he can't explain. Because he can sense everyone. The punters looking for a good time. The hosts and hostesses welcoming their regulars. Drunks careening down the street, their notes sour. He can even feel the cashier working behind the desk at Poppo. She's tired on the night shift, wavering like a bulb about to blow.

If he concentrates hard enough, he can pick out each individual energy calling out to him. Warm. Alive.

Food.

And he's getting hungry.

Whatever he took from Kiryu has long run out, his body numb and cold again. Kiryu had offered more, but Majima feels real unsure about taking from the same person twice when he has no clue what effect it has on them. Maybe it's chipping years off Kiryu's life, or wearing down his soul until he'll end up a mindless husk. Even the dumbest mark wouldn't sign that deal. So he'll have to find another way.

Or someone he really doesn't like.

There's always people looking for a fight in Kamurocho. Surely Majima can find some mugger or pimp to drain and take the edge off a bit? Just a little. Just to keep him going without feeling like his brain is being dissolved inside his skull. Then he'll be alright for a while.

Unfortunately, nobody this evening seems suicidal enough to challenge him. Maybe he should go home and change into an outfit that doesn't scream 'somebody you do not want to fuck with'. Hell, he'd even put on a shirt if it gets him some action. All he needs is one person.

Just as he's about to give up, he finally senses movement behind him. He can feel the intent – aggressive, and cocky. It sings across the night like the opening notes to a grand opera, and Majima has the conductor's baton.

"Must be my lucky day," he says with a smile as he turns to the three suits approaching him from behind. Shimano family, by the pins. Not quite what he expected, but better than he'd hoped. "Evenin', fellas. Ya here for me?"

The middle of the trio, a man sporting a truly offensive combover, nods. "You're wanted at the office."

All three men are large, muscular and stocky. Clearly built for endurance. Ready for a fight in case Majima decides to be more mercurial than obedient, as if a single one of them could touch him. It wouldn't even be fun.

Nah, he's not gonna fight out here. He's got a much better idea. He sighs theatrically, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Okay, boys. Take me to your leader."

Combover looks relieved, but one of the other two - younger, has a nose piercing - seems disappointed. Majima decides the piercing guy is his favourite.

The trio lead the way to a parked car, at least having the decency to open the door for him. Combover sits to his right, Piercing takes the back-facing seat opposite, and the third guy - no real distinguishing features, so Majima has taken to calling him Boring - is the driver.

Before Boring can turn the ignition, though, Majima starts having a violent coughing fit. Hacking and spluttering, banging hard on his chest.

"Whoa," says Piercing, hands outstretched in alarm. "Did you choke or something?"

Majima shakes his head. "Just... somethin' in... my throat."

"Aniki, help him! Do that stomach thing where you grab them!" He demonstrates a couple of abdominal thrusts in the air, like that would make a difference.

Combover looks affronted. "I don't know how to do that! You do it!"

"S'alright," Majima wheezes. "Nearly... got it... there."

With one last retch, a small black orb comes up out of his throat and falls into his hand. Majima quickly grabs Piercing's outstretched wrist and turns it so the palm is facing up.

"Here, man. Hold this."

Five minutes later, three unconscious bodies are dumped on the side of the road before the car drives off into the night. If anybody sees, no alarm is raised or assistance offered. This is Kamurocho, after all.

***

Majima's face is set with determination as he drives towards the Shimano family office. Yeah, he'll go see the bastard. But he's doing it on his own damn terms this time.

For the last twenty years, he's had a choke chain round his neck. Following orders, swearing black is white, and doing all the dirty jobs Shimano knows will humiliate him even further, because that's what you do for your boss. Sure, he's fucked around when he could. Bitten back, pissed on the carpet. But it always ended with Shimano's hand clamped around his neck, pushing his nose into the dirt.

"Yer mine," Shimano would remind him. "Til the day they find yer stinkin' corpse face down in the gutter, I own ya."

Majima grips the steering wheel tight. Shimano should have chosen his fucking words better. Because guess what, asshole? Majima is dead now, and that means he's free.

He's free, and he's going to eat that motherfucker alive.

A laugh bursts out of him uncontrolled, and he takes a second to rein it back. Gotta keep calm. If he runs in there all excited and manic, Shimano will know he's up to something, and it won't be as fun. No, he'll play the part of the chastised little stray returning home with its tail between its legs.

The closer he gets to the building, the more he can physically feel Shimano's presence. Not a beacon, but a force; a hydraulic steel press of power and control. Ready to crush anyone who dares step out of place. And it's rotten through, like being wrapped in festering meat, flies buzzing around his ears. He wants to turn away from it, but he'd swim through maggots and month-old offal if it got him Shimano's head.

Maybe he can keep the skull as a desk ornament. Put fairy lights in its eyes for Christmas. That would tie the room together real nice.

He does a shitty job of parking the car - though, the last time he drove was directly into a building, so this is an improvement - and he heads up to see the boss. He's expected, obviously, so he walks right into Shimano's office.

Majima recoils as he opens the door and is hit by a wave of fetid, disgusting energy. It feels like being drenched in a bucket of someone else's sweat.

Shimano smirks at him from behind his desk. "What's this now, Majima? Scared o' what's comin' for ya?"

Shaking off the revulsion, Majima gives an easy smile as he walks over to sprawl across one of the chairs facing Shimano. "Nah. I know ya wanted to see me, so." He gestures to himself. "Here I am."

"Hmph." Shimano lights a cigar, taking his sweet time cutting the tip and puffing away. "You're comin' along for the ride to the dockyards. Takin' a few boys to sort out a traitor. Thought ya might need a reminder what happens when ya disappoint me."

The dockyards? Kiryu had said something about the dockyards. He was going to pick his kid up and meet his boss on a boat, or something.

"Who's the traitor?" he asks, casual as anything.

A sneer. "They'll be nobody, soon enough. Not even a stain on the floor. Now come on, the boys are waitin'."

Majima leans back in the chair with a smile. "Ya know, a funny thing happened earlier today. I realised that ya don't get to tell me what to do any more."

"What's that?"

"I said no, fuckface. I ain't doin' shit for you."

"Talkin' back, are ya?" Shimano scoffs, standing to come around the desk. "Knew ya was gettin' uppity again. Can't even trust ya with a simple job."

There's a fist in his hair and it takes all of Majima's self-control to fight down the panic, to move with the grab. He has to be pliable or it gives away the game too early. This is something he wants to savour, not rush to the good part.

Shimano stares down at him, still with that shit-eating grin on his awful face. "I'm startin' to suspect ya enjoy this, Majima. Ya like bein' under the heel, slapped around by the boss. So ya play the brat, then come runnin' fer your punishment."

Majima grits his teeth. Patience. Just be patient.

"But I can't be havin' a dog that don't listen. So I'm thinkin', what do I do to break ya back in?" Shimano leans right into his face, and the oppressive energy is rolling off him in waves; could he really never feel this before? "I'm thinkin', that pretty little captain o' yers. How long would he last in the Hole?"

Majima's face twists with fury. Oh, fuck this. We're skipping to the end now, asshole.

He reaches up and grabs Shimano's head to hold him still, then snap-kicks him in the nose. Shimano reels back, releasing Majima's hair and howling more out of rage than pain.

Majima stands, holding his arms wide open with a rictus grin. "Come on, then. I'm supposed to enjoy this, right? So ya can have your wicked way with me. I'll even let ya get the first punch for free."

Scowling, blood running down his chin, Shimano clenches a fist and draws it back with all his strength. "You're gonna regret givin' me that."

He launches a powerful haymaker directly at Majima's head. The kind of blow that would cause immediate brain damage and probably crush a skull.

Instead, Majima doesn't feel a thing, and Shimano's wrist shatters in six places.

This time, the howl is definitely pain. Majima leans in, closing his eye with a delighted hum. Yeah, this is the symphony he wanted. "Ya know what? You're right. I do enjoy this."

Shimano pants through a clenched jaw. "Ya fucked up this time, Majima. No comin' back now."

"What ya gonna do about it, huh?" Majima flicks Shimano's broken nose, making him curse. "I know ya got this place soundproofed years ago. Ain't nobody gonna come save ya while I peel your skin off inch by fucking inch with my teeth."

Shimano used to scare him so much, and he can't even understand why in this moment. He's just a man. A slow, arrogant, bloated parasite who feeds on misery and misfortune. No wonder he stinks of rot. It would be so easy to just push a hand through him like wet tissue paper and tear him apart.

He's caught in his thoughts for just a second too long, Shimano trying to take advantage by grabbing for him with the uninjured arm.

So easy.

Majima takes Shimano's hand like they're going in for a twirl, but he spins to the outside. One hand holding Shimano's tight, the other pressed firm to the elbow, crack goes the joint.

So easy.

It brings Shimano to his knees with another scream.

"Oh yeah, that's the good shit, baby," Majima says. "Keep that up and we'll see if a corpse can still get hard."

And there, there it is. Just for the smallest second, the tiniest instant, but he sees it.

Shimano is afraid.

Majima laughs, utterly delighted. He can do anything. He can do anything. There's nobody who could ever hurt him again. He is a fucking god.

He grips Shimano's jaw, looking down at his broken master. There are so many ways he could end this. Beat Shimano into red mist and bone dust. Carve out each organ in alphabetical order. Break open his ribcage and pull out his lungs like bloody wings.

But all of that would just be prolonging the inevitable, and he's got way better shit to do. So. If he's a god, then he deserves an offering. Might as well see what happens if he takes absolutely everything a person has, right? He takes the pearl out of his pocket, still glowing ever so slightly from those morons in the car.

Shimano is trying to recover, pulling a cloak of bravado and bluster around himself. Absolutely not allowed. Majima kicks him in the stomach to make him shout, then shoves the pearl directly in Shimano's open mouth and down his throat, kneeing him in the chin for good measure.

This is where everything goes very, very wrong.

There's a wrenching hollow in Majima's chest and he staggers back, stunned. He crumples to the floor, unable to stand as his body fails and his limbs all give out at once.

Instead of life leaving Shimano, it's Majima's own energy being ripped out, draining him completely. Shimano is taking everything from him again. He can only watch in stunned alarm as Shimano's arms twist back into shape, the bones healing themselves. No! This isn't how it's supposed to go! This isn't fair!

He tries to reach over and take the pearl back but he can't even twitch, his muscles turning to brittle ice as the last of his strength leaves him. He was so close! He was so close. And now he's fucked it all up. He's lost his second chance because he got too greedy.

He's lost his second chance.

The last thing he sees is Shimano's eyes, engulfed in a brilliant white flame.

Chapter Text

Kiryu could really do without more revelations.

He's glad to see Kazama again, of course. And to get some answers at last about Sera's plans. It shocks him to learn that Yumi and Mizuki were one and the same all along, and it hurts to hear Yumi had found love without him.

But it all feels so small. Insignificant in the face of a much larger, far more world-altering fact.

Majima came back from the dead. Majima came back from the dead. What does any of this matter now when something so immutable as dying is no longer a guarantee? If they find the secret to it, could he bring back people already lost? Could he make sure he never loses anyone again?

Kazama looks at him with sympathy, not knowing the full extent of his turmoil. "It must be difficult for you, Kiryu. Coming out into a world so changed after ten years."

More like after the last twenty four hours. Kiryu shakes his head and looks down at Haruka, her hand warm in his. "All I can do is keep moving forward and trust in my choices."

Haruka gives him a tiny smile and squeezes his hand.

Kiryu is about to say something else when there's a noise from outside the boat. Tyres screeching across the dock, and a horn sounding loud. He looks to Kazama for confirmation, but the other man shakes his head.

"Our enemies have found us, it seems."

Kiryu nods. "Keep Haruka safe. I'll see if I can handle this myself."

"Be careful, Kiryu. There could be an army out there."

Kiryu isn't too concerned. He's fought enough men at this point, and perhaps he can now keep fighting even if they take him down. But as he steps outside the boat to look at the dock below, it isn't an army at all. There's one car, and one man standing beside it, leaning through the driver window so he can honk the horn.

Shimano.

"Kiryu Kazuma!" he shouts, grinning wide. "I thought ya might be here. Time for a rematch."

"It's just you?" Kiryu tries to see behind shipping crates and in the door of the nearby warehouse, in case Shimano has a handy ambush waiting for when Kiryu comes closer.

"Just you and me. I was gonna bring all the boys, but then I thought, why let them have the glory when I can rip your head off your spine myself?" His grin gets even wider, and he cracks his knuckles. "I'm gonna enjoy every second o' this."

"Hmph." Satisfied for now that he isn't going to be shot from seventeen angles, Kiryu comes down the loading ramp to meet Shimano on the tarmac. "You can't be allowed to continue undermining the clan, Shimano-san. If you want a fight, I'll give it to you."

Shimano laughs, and shifts into a fighting stance, legs set wide and arms raised.

Something about the movement seems...off. Unsettling. Something triggered in his primal instincts that he's felt before. Kiryu's hesitation is enough to give Shimano the first advantage, an enormous fist swinging towards his head like a truck. Kiryu only just manages to dodge in time, ducking under the blow as it whistles past.

When Kiryu goes for the counterattack, he realises what has happened.

He impacts Shimano's chest with a solid blow and it does absolutely nothing. The momentum is stopped instantly, and the punch is fully absorbed, like hitting marble.

Like when he fought Majima.

Majima worked out the secret and he gave it to Shimano.

Shimano is invincible.

How did Kiryu not expect this? For all the bad blood between them, Shimano is still Majima's boss, and the one person Majima will always capitulate to. And now the biggest threat to the Tojo clan is an unkillable juggernaut.

Kiryu moves back and away, out of range as Shimano goes for another strike. His movements are definitely faster than before, but thankfully Kiryu can still keep pace, the extra weight and muscle on Shimano working to even the balance.

"Surprised?" Shimano asks, clearly entertained. "Ya think you're hot shit, but you're nothin' compared to me."

"I'm still going to take you down."

"Give it your best shot, then. I'm sure the kid will love the show."

What? Kiryu looks back towards the boat to see that, yes, Haruka has run out to check he's alright. She's leaning over the railing and he'd be worried she'll fall, but Kazama is right behind her to pull her back and take her inside again, out of sight. Haruka is safe, just very foolhardy.

Of course, this means he's taken his eyes off of Shimano. He's immediately punished with a backhand across the head that rattles his teeth. Dizzy and staggered, he still tries to grab Shimano's shoulders and throw him, but the other man's strength is so great that Kiryu is shrugged off with ease.

Back on the retreat, Kiryu keeps his distance, thinking. There must be a way. Something he can do. He can't punch or kick, can't grapple. Can't throw objects, and he's sure a gun wouldn't do much even if he had one.

But there is something.

Sharps still work.

He has a butcher knife strapped to his leg. He's not usually one for blade fighting, but it certainly seems necessary now. Waiting until Shimano rushes in for a crushing bear hug, Kiryu rolls down and to the side, swiftly releasing the knife to hold it ready.

Shimano is delighted by this. "Finally, it gets serious." He pulls off his shirt, showing his ink in its full glory. His bare skin is ash-pale, making the dark swirls and bright petals stand out even bolder.

Would Majima have told him this weakness? That even if he can't feel pain, he can still be cut? How much does Shimano know about what he is?

No, that doesn't matter. All that matters is Kiryu stopping Shimano with the only tool he has available to him. He grips the knife tight and sweeps low, moving through Shimano's guard and cutting deep into his left wrist. No blood of course, but it should reduce movement in that hand, and that's about all Kiryu can hope for right now.

Shimano scoffs, peering at the injury with disinterest. "Ya think a cut like that is gonna stop me? I'm gonna crush your skull like an egg."

When they had fought before, Shimano had very much been a man of brute force, like a rock forcing a waterfall to pass around it. Relying on his strength to overpower anyone who opposed him. Now, he's far more unpredictable, still strong as an ox but using it in different ways.

This is how Kiryu gets completely blindsided by a spinning kick to the head from a man who had never kicked above his waist before. He's knocked to the ground, winded and disoriented, his vision suddenly filled with a looming presence above him.

Kiryu moves just in time as Shimano bodyslams his entire weight on the spot where he had been lying. A huge fist impacts next to his head, and Kiryu takes the chance to stab his knife into Shimano's right wrist, between the bones. He holds the knife firm as Shimano pulls back to stand, and it carves through the arm and straight down the centre of the fist, the joints and knuckles popping wetly as they separate.

Shimano stares at his bisected hand in apparent fascination, the palm split completely in two down the middle. He tries to bend his fingers and they twitch limply, barely responding.

"Huh."

Kiryu gets to his feet as well, a little shaken. "I don't want to kill you. I think we both know that would be impossible. But I will stop you if I have to."

"Tsch. Ya grew some real balls at last." Letting his useless arm hang loose, Shimano comes at him again, shifting his weight for a roundhouse kick. Lower, more like his usual style. A little more predictable.

Kiryu deliberately lets the kick land against his side, moving just enough to reduce the blow but still get in close. Then he slices right through Shimano's Achilles tendon and the flesh around it.

"Fuck!" When Shimano retreats and tries to stand on the foot, it buckles beneath him with a crunch, and he only just manages to stay upright. "Shit. Nice one."

...nice one?

Was that a compliment?

It doesn't seem right. Nothing about this has seemed right.

Shimano hasn't seemed right from the beginning.

Shimano grins, and it stretches unnaturally across his face like hooks pulling at his cheeks. "Reckon ya can finish the job?"

Gripping the knife handle tight, Kiryu meets Shimano's gaze, unflinching. "I will take you down."

There's a flash of excitement in Shimano's eyes as he bends low, ready to tackle - and then he's giggling. Shimano is giggling.

Not the arrogant laughter of the megalomaniac patriarch, but the gleeful, boyish joy of someone eager to be beaten.

Kiryu has heard that laugh before.

From secret hiding places and surprise ambushes, from under masks and in costumes. In bars, in arcades, in the alleys of Kamurocho. He's heard it every day since he got out of jail.

Shimano hasn't seemed right because... because...

...because this is not Shimano.

Kiryu drops the knife in shock.

"...Majima?"

The other man tilts his head, clearly still amused. "There we go. Took ya long enough, Kiryu-chan."

It's Shimano's voice, but Majima's pitch. Majima's playfulness. It is him.

"How have you done this? How is this possible?!"

Majima didn't give Shimano the secret. Majima is- is wearing Shimano like a costume. Playing a part to get Kiryu to fight him, but far more horrifying than a mask. This is a person. Majima is wearing a person.

A person that Kiryu has just spent five minutes carving apart.

Shimano - Majima - shrugs casually, like he isn't inhabiting the skin of his boss. "Apparently this is a thing I can do now. Get inside another guy. Would be all romantic except, ya know. It's this asshole."

"Why didn't you say something?! You- I wouldn't have fought like that if I knew!" Kiryu presses a fist to his mouth, nausea rising. He'd done what he thought was necessary to protect the others, but it was brutal.

"What, and miss out on the chance to see ya go full psycho slasher? Not for all the world, Kiryu-chan."

Kiryu shakes his head in disbelief. "No. Even for you, this is beyond understanding. This isn't a game. Look at your arm! I should never have- I can't believe I did that. I'm so sorry."

Majima's smile fades, something darker underneath as he looks down at his mangled wrist. "It's alright. I wanted you to. Had to know."

"Had to know what?!"

Majima meets his eyes, and there's no mirth there anymore. He's just hollow.

"If I could still be stopped."

"...Nii-san..."

Majima's weakened foot finally gives way and he goes down, crumpling to his knees. Kiryu goes with him, a hand on Majima's chest to hold him steady.

"I don't know what the fuck is happening," Majima says quietly. "I don't know what I am."

"We'll figure it out together."

Majima looks at him, and even though it's Shimano's face, there's no doubting the person behind it. It really does seem ridiculous now that it took so long to notice.

"Okay. Together." Majima collects himself again, cracking a half-smile. "But I am not looking like this the whole time. Can ya imagine? This ugly mug, forever?"

"If you're not in there, won't Shimano come back? Won’t he be like you, too?"

Majima looks down. "No, I think he's gone. I burned him up from the inside like a furnace. Still burning, actually. Real fuckin' spicy in here."

Kiryu frowns, equal parts lost and concerned. "What do you mean?"

"I think... I think it's like when ya get some new organ put in. This body is rejecting me. But I got my real body in the car, cause I'm a forward thinker like that."

A nod, like any of that is a normal thing to happen. Kiryu pulls Majima back up to his feet. "Let's go."

They start walking towards the car, but after only a few steps, Majima stumbles and goes back down again. "Fuck. I ain't gonna make it."

"Get up; I'm not letting you stop now."

"Not much choice here, Kiryu-chan. Look."

He holds out his injured hand and the flesh is rotting off the bone, falling away in wet grey chunks. It spreads down his wrist, then up his arm to his chest, his body shrivelling like cellophane under heat.

Kiryu still tries pulling Majima to his feet by the other arm, urgent and demanding. "You can't just give up! Keep walking!"

Majima chuckles wetly, meat dripping down from his skull as his cheek peels open. "Hey, as much as I love it when ya get all panicked over me, ya can chill out. I thought I was a goner twice already and it ain't stuck yet. I'm gonna be fine, alright? Just get me back where I'm supposed to be."

"How can I get you back there if you won't move?"

Majima huffs. "Not the body, idiot. Me. My soul."

"Your... soul?"

"Uh huh. Try not to eat it."

"I'll... do my best."

Majima smiles faintly with what little he has left of a face, and then the body Kiryu is holding up collapses entirely into a congealed mass of decaying viscera and shattered bones.

It takes considerable self-control for Kiryu not to scream, because he knows if he starts, he won't ever stop.

Everything is impossible; it's impossible and yet he's seen it all for himself and he knows it must be real. Whatever Majima has become is a creature beyond all comprehension, beyond all reason, but it exists and it is here, in front of him. It's too much. It's just too much.

Should it even be allowed to continue?

No, that's not a thought worth entertaining. Despite all the bizarre things Kiryu has seen, Majima still seems to be himself, as much as that means anything. Majima came here for a fight because that’s the only thing he knows, but what he was actually asking for is help. And Kiryu is going to help him.

He just wishes the world could go back to making sense.

Within the pile of rot that was once a Tojo patriarch, Kiryu can see a glowing light. Wrapping a hand in his jacket, he fishes around until he pulls out a small round orb, shining so brightly it hurts to look at. Majima's soul.

Yeah. He could really do without more revelations.

Chapter Text

The windows of the car are tinted, like most family vehicles, so Kiryu can only see his own grim reflection as he strides over, the strange little pearl clutched inside his coat. What if this doesn't work? Majima had been confident enough, but it's clear he knows just as little about all this as Kiryu does. His promise that they'll find the answers together is meaningless if he can't even get Majima back in his own body.

Madness. This is all madness, a screaming maelstrom of insanity and horror. To face it alone might be more than he could bear. But he has to keep going, to try and bring Majima back, or it will have been for naught.

He reaches the back door of the car and takes a moment to brace himself. Will Majima's body just be sprawled across the seat, thrown in without a care? Or will it have collapsed into rot with nothing to sustain it, a loose pile of flesh slowly congealing into the leather?

Only one way to find out. He opens the door and steps inside the car in one smooth, purposeful motion, shutting himself in so he has no choice but to face this.

He forces himself to look, turning his head in a series of short, sharp fractions of movement, his affectation of confidence faltering. Relief extinguishes the worst of his fears when he finds Majima's body sat in the back seat, perfectly intact, leaning against the window as if he's just sleeping. Safe and secure, even strapped in.

"A seatbelt?" Kiryu mutters to himself, surprised at the sight.

"Oh, um. I thought that it seemed more polite that way."

Kiryu whips around in alarm towards the voice, arms raised and ready to fight. A threat? Wasn't the car supposed to be empty?

There's a rather nervous looking man sat in the driver seat, and knowing Majima’s list of confidants there’s only one person it could be. Definitely not someone he’d consider a threat.

"...Nishida."

The other man bows his head in greeting. "Yes, Kiryu-san. It's good to meet you properly at last!"

"Mm.” Kiryu doesn’t feel much like introductions, but he does not want to be impolite to the man who cleans up so many of Majima’s messes. "...How are you doing with all this?" he ventures.

"Oh! Very badly, sir!"

Not the response he was expecting. Kiryu thinks about this for a moment, and then decides honesty will do. "Yes, me too."

Nishida wipes a sweaty palm over an even sweatier face, looking at the jacket Kiryu has bundled in his arms with concern. "So... is that... oyaji?"

"Apparently." Kiryu clenches the bundle a little tighter.

"I saw what was happening out there. He told me he'd be okay, but..."

"But we still have no real idea about any of this," Kiryu sighs, inwardly berating Majima for his overconfidence and haste. "Did he have his little game making you guess who he was, too?"

"Uh, yes, sort of. I didn't get it at first when he called me. His voice was different, but he talked just like normal and knew all the things oyaji knows, so I thought maybe he had a cold or something? And he said I had to come help him move a body." A dry swallow, Nishida staring into some middle distance. "Then when I got there, it was... him. He was the body."

It's at least slightly reassuring for Kiryu to see someone else having just as bad a day as him. "And then you both came here to find me."

Nishida nods, wringing his hands. "He said you'd know what to do. But how can anyone know what to do? What do we do now?!"

"I think the first step is to get him back inside... himself."

"Is that possible?"

"He told me how it’s supposed to work... so we can only try."

Completely out of his depth, Kiryu turns to Majima's body. Is he going to have to force-feed the soul back in, or will it just work from being close enough? He can feel Nishida's eyes on him, both of them uncertain. Still protecting his hand with his jacket, Kiryu unwraps the glowing orb and presses it to the bare skin of Majima's chest.

The reaction is instant. With a choked gasp, Majima jerks back into animation, his body spasming as whatever qualifies as life returns to it. Kiryu shifts backwards to give him space, and there's a second where Majima looks absolutely feral as he snatches the orb with a growl to open his mouth and swallow it down.

The next noise Majima makes is far more obscene.

Kiryu's ears go pink, and he schools his gaze on his fists, clenched now in his lap. "Ah... are you alright, nii-san?" he asks.

"Mmm." Majima beams drunkenly as he slides sideways down the seat. "I am... veeeeeery good."

He gets tangled up in the seatbelt and spends a good few moments being perplexed by it until Kiryu grows impatient, pressing the release and freeing the other man. This sends Majima tumbling bonelessly, landing with his head face down in Kiryu's lap.

Nishida very pointedly turns to face away from them both, his hands clutching the steering wheel.

"Are you alright?" Kiryu repeats.

Majima flaps a hand at him. "Shh. I'm ridin' it out. Just... just got a whole bunch o' juice all at once. Let me have this."

Oh, that's right. Majima had said that absorbing energy feels good for him. Kiryu just hadn't realised it was this powerful, or this... charged. He tries to keep still as Majima sprawls even further across him, an arm snaking around his waist, face hot against the fabric of Kiryu’s trousers. Majima clearly hasn't suffered for his temporary out-of-body experience, and while Kiryu is relieved, he's getting increasingly self-conscious as this continues.

"Perhaps I should leave, Majima-san. Let you recover fully."

"No can do, Kiryu-chan. I got ya in my clutches." A second arm wraps around him, holding him tight. He presses his face close and inhales deeply. “Fuck, ya smell so good.”

Kiryu’s blush spreads all the way down his neck. “I’ve been wearing the same suit for two days.”

Majima tuts, now moving to press his face into Kiryu's stomach. "Not like that, dumbass. Your fuckin'... aura, whatever. It smells real nice." He inhales again, but somehow it’s not just with his breath. It’s as if Majima’s entire... being, that spark which makes him Majima, is revelling in Kiryu’s presence.

This is absolutely not the time to be losing focus. The situation at hand is dire and they're both out of their depth. Majima is talking about auras and burrowing his way into Kiryu's lap, and he's so warm; shouldn't he be cold? He was cold before, but now he's a radiator spread across the seat.

Because he absorbed Shimano.

That gets Kiryu focused again.

"Majima-san, we need to talk about what just happened."

A grumble from the man who is currently trying to fuse them into one person. "Can it wait til I crash? Ya sound so serious and it's fuckin' bumming me out." He keeps his face flush against Kiryu’s midriff as he speaks, his voice muffled.

"It is serious. Shimano is dead, and you were puppeteering his body."

"...oh yeah." Majima finally peels himself off of Kiryu like an octopus releasing its prey, sitting back up, looking momentarily disoriented. "Kinda forgot about that for a second."

"You- you forgot."

"Been a crazy day. Can't keep track of all the little details." Majima lets his head fall back against the seat with a hum. He lets a few seconds of dead air sit between them before he says, "He's really dead, huh."

"Unless he comes back." It wouldn’t surprise Kiryu if he did.

Majima shakes head. "He won't. When I was in there I could hear him, kinda. He was so mad about it, kept tryin' to take back control. But it got quieter the more he burned, til he wasn't there at all. Poof." He waves away this last word with a flick of the hand.

Poof. Like it's all a joke, or a game. A magic trick to make someone disappear. Kiryu pinches his nose to try and reduce the tension headache building behind his eyes. "So he's gone, then."

Majima laughs suddenly, making Kiryu jump. "He's gone cause I ate him. Snapped that motherfucker up like a candy bar. A rotten, stinking candy bar full o' worms and poison."

"And you're... alright with that? With killing your patriarch?"

"What, ya gonna do ten years for me, too?" He looks at Kiryu with a challenge, but it goes unanswered, Kiryu’s gaze steely and unyielding, so he looks away again. "Someone was gonna do it sooner or later. Maybe I just saved ya the job."

It's true that Shimano had been dancing on a blade's edge going against the clan. Many have died already in the dash for Sera's seat, and this has taken out a significant threat. It may also be true that Kiryu would have been forced to stop Shimano himself, if Majima hadn't. But the way it happened, and the fact that Majima seems to feel no remorse at all - quite the opposite, in fact - sits uncomfortably in Kiryu's stomach.

"You wore his face."

Majima tuts. "Ya should be fuckin' grateful I did, cause it meant I could stop his meatheads! He was all pumped up about comin' here to slaughter everyone. Had boxes full o' grenades and shit, said there wasn't gonna be nothin' left after he was done. So once I had his face, I ran down and told 'em all to sit and spin."

"You stopped his men?"

Majima bats his eye with a grin. "I did. Gotta look out for my Kiryu-chan, now don't I?"

Kiryu frowns. "...I suppose so."

"And!" Majima shouts, pointing like he's just remembered something very important. "He said he was gonna go after Nishida. Can't have that at all."

Nishida's head whips round from the front seat. "You protected me too, oyaji?!"

"Shut up, idiot. I liked it better when ya was pretending ya weren't there." Majima tries to kick the seat, but Shimano's car is bigger than his usual one and he can't reach. Nishida goes back to facing forward and keeping still, but there's no mistaking the enormous grin across his face.

Has everyone else gone insane? Or is Kiryu being slow to adjust? How are they both so accepting of what just happened? Nishida had seemed just as alarmed a minute ago, but now his boss is restored, he's fine. Kiryu is the only one floundering with the thought of it all, with worrying how the hell they're going to solve this problem. If there's anyone who could help them.

"Majima-san," Kiryu says, his tone serious. "What exactly do you want, here?"

He can see that Majima wants to make another joke, to make light of everything like he always does, but the firmness of Kiryu's expression gives him pause.

"Shit, I dunno. If ya figure out how to undo this, that might be me gone for good, ya know? Nobody wants that." He picks at the edge of the tape around his waist. "I just wanna know what the fuck is goin' on."

Well, it's a start. "If anyone knows, the Florist will know. We can go to him."

"Sure, whatever." Majima slumps back in his seat, arms folded. He looks pale again, apparently having already spent what he took from Shimano. A whole life, used up in ten minutes. Will he want more?

They need answers.

"I have to make sure Haruka is somewhere safe first," Kiryu says. "We can meet at Purgatory and go together."

"Don't keep me waitin', Kiryu-chan."

Kiryu manages a half-smile. "I know you'd only come and find me if I did."

He leaves the car and watches Nishida drive away, a heavy weight in his stomach. If the Florist can't help them, there's nowhere else to turn. They'll have to do this alone.

Whatever it takes.

He heads back up to the boat, but when he goes to reunite with the others, he finds a gun pointed at his head.

Terada is standing just in the doorway, aim steady and unwavering. There's a sickening moment where Kiryu assumes this was the plan all along - that Terada had waited for Shimano to arrive and killed Kazama, expecting Kiryu to be taken out as well. But then he sees Kazama in the room beyond, holding Haruka still so she won't run to try and help. Not interfering at all.

What is going on?

Kiryu stands his ground. "Put the gun down, Terada-san. I'm not your enemy."

"Indeed," Terada says calmly. "From everything I've heard, Kiryu Kazuma has always been an honourable and trustworthy man. It just depends if that is still who you are."

"What do you mean? There's no reason to think I'm not honourable or trustworthy."

"You misunderstand. I'm not asking about your character. I'm asking if you're still Kiryu Kazuma, or if there's something else wearing that skin."

Kiryu looks at Terada in confusion. The man's aim hasn't wavered, his expression grim. Determined, but concerned. On a lesser man, that might be fear. Kazama too - he's not scared, but he's watching Kiryu closely, searching for the truth. And he's gripping Haruka's arm tight, shielding her with his body so that Kiryu can't get to her. Protecting her.

They think he might hurt her.

They think he's a monster.

That means they know what this is.

Chapter Text

1980

The fire is everywhere. Alarms screaming in her ears, smoke suffocating in her lungs. She already tried to open the door and it seared her flesh to the metal handle, the skin blistering angry and red. There is no escape.

Everyone else is dead. It was a slaughter. She heard the screams, the gunfire. All she can do is wait for her own death alongside them. It's the right thing to do. The honourable thing to do.

But.

But.

Her son grizzles in her arms. He's only a baby. How can she consign him to death, when his life could be beautiful? Doesn't he deserve a chance? It isn't fair! He can't die here!

She runs to the window and pulls it open. This high up, jumping out would surely be fatal. But maybe there's a way - if she holds her son carefully, and lands on her back, he might survive the impact.

A mother must give her all for her children.

She falls backwards just as the door is kicked open, a shocked face the last thing she sees.

***

Crying.

And... movement? Shifting weight. Something above her.

They're taking her baby.

She forces herself upright with a shriek, lurching forward. Nobody will take him, not while she can still move.

"Give him to me! Now!"

She sees another shocked face - no, the same shocked face. The man who had watched her fall. Did he come here to kill them both? He's saying something but she can only understand some of the words. Dead and safe and hospital. Hospital isn't the sort of thing an assassin would care about. Maybe he's a civilian who ran into the burning building to try and help.

Whoever he is, it doesn't matter. All that matters is taking her son and getting far away from this nightmare. The stranger seems to recognise this at least, as he carefully holds the baby out for her to cradle close. Her son is warm in her arms, and she presses a kiss to his hair, whispering promises.

A convulsion shudders through her chest and she coughs suddenly, unable to stop. It must be from the smoke damage, black tar coagulating in her throat until she feels like she's about to choke on it. She has no choice but to vomit it all out, spluttering and gasping, still clutching the baby close as she bends over.

Something else falls out of her mouth as well. A round orb, almost like a bauble. It clatters to the floor and rolls towards the stranger's feet.

She doesn't have time to wonder what that was, or what is happening. She needs to get away, and quickly. Ignoring the stranger's shouts, she turns and runs blindly towards an alley. Anywhere, just away from here. Away from those who are looking for her.

A horrible, sickening emptiness rams through her chest as she gets further away, stopping her forcefully.

go back

Another step, legs trembling.

go back go back go baCK GO BACK

Without another thought, she runs back to where she'd woken up, the emptiness lessening every second she gets closer.

The stranger has collapsed, face down on the ground. Is... is he dead? Did someone kill him for helping her? She nudges him anxiously with a foot and he doesn't move, but there's no blood or obvious wounds. It looks like he just crumpled to the ground like a puppet with his strings cut.

She doesn't have time for this. Coming back was a mistake, and she doesn't understand why she felt like she had to. This man isn't her responsibility. She should just go again, get out and-

Something is glowing in his hand.

She looks closer. A bright white light, getting brighter by the second. It's the bauble she coughed up. He touched it? What even is it?

When she tries to pick it up for herself, the surge knocks her to the floor.

***

2005

"It's called a Devourer," Kazama explains. "A spirit returned from the dead, filled with rage and hunger. Hunting one many years ago was how Terada-san and I became acquainted."

They've all calmed a little now that it's clear Kiryu is still himself. Haruka is clutching his arm after being reassured that no, this wasn't all her fault because she ran outside, and Kazama is finally giving Kiryu some idea of what is happening.

Not that he likes what he's hearing.

"It feeds on the souls of others and can wear their skin, impersonate them. It would pretend to be allies so it could take down as many of us as possible. Dozens were killed."

Kiryu frowns. "But that was just one time. You don't know that this is the same."

"There are stories of when Devourers have returned before. All of them end in misery. We have days at most before whoever it used to be is gone entirely."

"...days?"

"I can't imagine anyone staying sane with that power for longer than a week."

***

1980

Her hands are not her hands. They haven't been her hands for... a while.

Everything keeps shifting. She's losing focus, losing awareness. People keep coming after her and her baby, so she takes them down. No matter who it is, she will destroy them for daring to come near. Consume them so she can keep moving forward.

She doesn't know where her hands are. Where what she used to be has gone. But she keeps going forward, keeps finding the men who are hunting her. She can smell them, like fear and incense; pathetic animals to be cut down and eaten.

Hungry.

These bodies never hold for long. Have to keep moving. Have to find new hands before the old ones turn into meat. Doesn't matter who they are. Just have to keep going. Keep her baby alive.

She's so hungry.

***

2005

"It already killed Shimano," Kazama says. "And it tried to kill you."

"That's... not what happened," Kiryu says. How can he explain his rivalry with Majima without making the others even more suspicious? "I understand why you want to stop this before it becomes more dangerous. But I don't think this is like the Devourer you both fought. This man is loyal to the Tojo clan, and he was trying to help me - help all of us - by stopping Shimano."

Terada narrows his eyes. "So you know who it used to be?"

"Who he still is," Kiryu says firmly. He isn't getting through to them at all. Majima is wild, definitely, but he isn't the threat they see him as.

"Knowing its original identity will make things easier, at least," Terada says.

Kiryu huffs. "And why is that?"

"Because that means we might have a chance to kill it."

***

1981

So cold. So hungry. Can't think.

Falling, disintegrating apart. Nothing left. Just noise, buzzing in her borrowed skull. All she knows is want.

There's something nearby. Something warm. She needs it, needs the warmth back in her bones. Crawling, dragging herself towards it.

It's small. Won't give much. But she only needs a little. Just to stop the screaming.

It's so small. That feels... important, but she can't remember. Can't think. Hungry. So hungry.

Maybe she'll remember after she's eaten.

***

2005

"The stories are vague at best," Kazama says. "It seems that the usual way a Devourer is stopped is that it drives itself to extinction. It consumes all the people around it until nobody is left, and then it starves."

"So it has to take energy from others?" Kiryu asks. "It can't survive otherwise?"

Maybe there's a way to manage this. Before Shimano, all Majima had done was take small amounts of energy to sustain himself - including from Kiryu. It didn't seem to cause much harm other than making them a little tired. If Majima isn't forced into desperation by being hunted, those small amounts could be enough. Perhaps he could keep going like that, and they can work on finding a way to restore him instead.

Kazama and Terada only know one example of a Devourer, and folklore and stories are not enough of a reason to sentence a man to death. There will be another way, and Kiryu will find it.

"Eventually it returns to death, with nothing left to sustain it," Kazama says. "But in a densely populated city like Kamurocho, the toll would be too high. That's why it's important to know who it was in life, so you can learn why it returned."

"Why it returned? Unfinished business?"

"Not quite. A Devourer isn't brought back for a purpose, but a person. Someone it was so attached to, so obsessed with, that it couldn't move on."

Kiryu gets a very uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

"If the Devourer tries to kill that person, it dies instead. You need to find that person and put them in the Devourer's sights."

Kiryu shakes his head firmly. "I'm not doing that! You keep saying all these awful things will happen, but I've not seen anything to suggest it! I'm not going to kill someone just because of what they might be capable of!"

Kazama looks him in the eye. "I understand. You want to be sure which path is the right one before you take it. But sometimes, a man needs to make an impossible decision for the good of others around him."

Kiryu looks away. "Don't ask this of me, Kazama-san. I won't do it."

"Kazuma."

When Kiryu looks back at Kazama, the other man is holding a folded envelope. It takes a moment to realise what it is.

Sera's will.

"I have faith in you," Kazama says. "We all do. You are the man who can lead us away from this madness. You just have to make the choice."

Kazama holds the envelope out to him, and Kiryu takes it.

Chapter Text

The trashcan fire outside of West Park burns bright and warm, but all Majima can feel is a deep, consuming emptiness. Like he's still sinking down in Tokyo Bay, the fish picking at what little meat is left on his bones. Like his skull has cracked open on a rock and his brains are drifting away with the current.

He'd been alright for a while. Shimano had juiced him up real good, and he was on top of the world. But it didn't last long at all, and now he's wretched and miserable again, standing around like a date on prom night waiting for Kiryu to come find him. What's the point? There's not going to be some magic wand they can wave to fix all of this. He's fucked, and that's the end of it. Might as well take the hand he's dealt and enjoy being an unkillable monster who can eat his enemies for fuel.

Could really do with something right now, too. Just enough to stop him from falling apart like wet cake.

The usual gaggle of homeless folks had scattered when Majima had arrived. Probably still on edge after that raid a few days ago. Or do they know something? Were they told to hide by their creepy boss? He does feel like he's being watched. Eyes in the darkness surrounding him, his skin crawling with paranoia.

Who's there?!

He whirls round to try and catch them, paces the perimeter of the courtyard, but he can't see anyone. Just a general presence; a stalker after a prize. He hates it. He hates it. Wants to find the source and tear it into thin strips. Gouge out the eyes he can feel on him. Eat them up. All he has to do is find them.

But he's supposed to be waiting. Said he'd meet Kiryu here. Got to be good, right? The Dog hasn't got a master anymore, but that doesn't mean he can run off chasing the first squirrel he sees. Yeah, got to be good. Stay. Stay.

He sits on a bench and presses the heel of his palm into his eye with a groan.

"Hurry up, Kiryu-chan. I can't keep it together much longer."

***

Majima doesn't know exactly how long he waits there, but he does know the second Kiryu is in range of his new senses. A blanket made of whiskey and anise rolling over his frayed nerves, reassuring him that finally, the fucker is here. He stands, stretching out and shaking away the crackling tension in his muscles, and heads in the direction he can tell Kiryu is coming from. The streets are still quiet, most of the usual traffic hiding away, and it means Kiryu's energy is even clearer as Majima walks towards it.

Kiryu seems oddly relieved when they meet halfway down North Pink Street. "Nii-san. You're here."

"Told ya I would be. What, ya thought I'd break my word? That hurts, Kiryu-chan." He presses a hand to his chest with an exaggerated frown.

"I was- never mind. I'm glad you're alright."

"Such a worrywart. We gonna go see the Florist, then?"

Kiryu hesitates. "I don't know if we need to. I actually... Kazama-san knew some things about this."

"What the fuck? Ya told him? Why did ya go and do that?!"

"I didn't tell him it was you! But he saw Shimano, and he knew what had happened. Knew that Shimano was dead."

Majima feels that paranoia come creeping back along his spine. Being watched. Being hunted. Kazama knew just from looking? Then he'll know as soon as he sees Majima, as well. Maybe other people know already. Waiting for their moment to strike.

Not if he gets there first.

"Nii-san?"

Oh. He must have spaced out for a second. Kiryu is looking at him, concern etched on those perpetually serious brows.

"Yeah, I hear ya," Majima says, waving a hand dismissively. "So your boss knew some shit, did he? Anything that actually makes a difference?"

That frown gets even deeper. Ah, fuck. "He... told me about a time this has happened before. I don't think it means this will be the same, but there's some things you should be aware of."

"And what's the bad news?"

It's clear Kiryu is trying to find the best way to word this. Must be real important, if it's got him this tongue-tied.

Majima tuts, his patience incredibly thin. "Spit it out before I gotta test if I can die of old age."

"It's to do with that. Your life. You're... tied to someone else."

"Tied how?"

"It'll be someone who matters. To you. And that's what brought you back. So the two lives are... linked."

Majima gets a pretty good idea why Kiryu seems so uncomfortable.

"Well, damn. Don't get so ahead o' yourself, Kiryu-chan."

"What?"

Majima folds his arms with a smirk. "Ya think it's you."

Bingo. Kiryu goes bright red to match that stupid shirt of his. "I didn't say that! I just- I was letting you know! Because whoever it is, you need to be careful."

"Sheesh. Ya stalk a guy for a while and he starts thinkin' you're obsessed."

Kiryu glares at his shoes. "That wasn't the only reason."

"Oh, this'll be good."

"Would you stop mocking me?"

Majima laughs. "Never. Go on. What's your theory, detective?"

"The way you died, nii-san. It was my fault."

"More the guy who shot me, but sure." Majima says this with a flippancy he doesn't quite feel.

Kiryu shakes his head. "I left you there. You might have lived if I hadn't."

"Ah," Majima says, eyebrows raised, "so ya reckon I'd be so pissed at ya that I'd drag myself back from the afterlife for a rematch."

"It's what you do. You find reasons to fight me."

Majima can't really argue with that. But at the same time, if every dead guy with a grudge could crawl back up, this town would be a lot busier. "I ain't convinced. If I was that mad, I would've taken ya down by now. Already let ya win two times, even with my sexy new strength." He leers a little, flexing an arm that's feeling more like strips of sinew than real muscle, but the gesture achieves the desired effect.

Even more furious blushing. "And that's another thing."

"Haw? What is?"

"You're always... flirting." Kiryu doesn't quite meet Majima's eye when he says this. In fact, he's looking anywhere but directly at Majima. A neon parlour sign, a phone box. As if looking at Majima directly will make his statement uncomfortably real.

Majima barks a laugh, even though the reluctance of Kiryu's gaze stings. "Cause it gets a reaction!"

"Then there was what happened after the fight at Shangri-La. You kissed me. And in the car earlier, you were... attached."

"Mitigating circumstances. I was high off my ass both times. It don't mean my life depends on you, Kiryu-chan."

Kiryu sighs, clearly annoyed with how easily Majima is deflecting his pet theory. Cute. "Alright then. It isn't me, that's fine. I only wanted to warn you."

His disappointment is cute too.

"Ain't ya just a peach. Appreciate the heads-up. There anything else ya wanted to mention?" Majima is getting antsy. Eyes watching him. Ears listening in. They’re out in the open, easy prey.

"Yes. This trouble the Tojo Clan is going through." Kiryu composes himself a little more, his blush fading as he returns to safer topics. "I think it ends soon. I'm taking Haruka back to her mother and confronting Nishiki."

"...you fucking idiot."

"What?" Kiryu scowls, taken aback. "I know it doesn't matter to you, but I have to try. I have to talk to him."

Majima crosses the short distance between them so he can cuff Kiryu across the head. "That's why ya was worried you're the one I came back for, ain't it?" At Kiryu's confused and offended look, he continues. "Because ya don't expect to come out o' this alive!"

It's obvious he's right, even as Kiryu tries to deny it. "Nishiki is my responsibility. If there's a chance I can talk him down-"

Another slap, possibly a bit too hard this time. Rattling Kiryu's head to try and knock some sense in there. "Don't fuckin' risk your life when ya got your immortal friend right here! Pretty damn sure your idiot brother ain't who I came back for, so I can do whatever I like to him."

By the glare Kiryu gives him, Majima knows the other man really wants to punch back. Shame it would only break his fist. "That's why it has to be me! Nobody else would let him redeem himself!"

"Fucking bleeding heart idiot! Ya can't just-"

Majima freezes as his paranoia suddenly rockets into the stratosphere. Not alone. Not safe. Eyes on them from all angles. He grabs Kiryu's jacket and pushes him into a tiny gap between two buildings, Majima taking point. Kiryu makes a noise of indignant surprise, a question on his lips.

"Can't ya tell?" Majima asks, eye wide as he looks back down the street. "There's a fuckin' army headed this way."

"You're sure?"

"Course I'm sure! I can smell the bastards from here. Out for blood." He draws his tantō as the first group appears at the top entrance to the street, wielding bats and pipes and all kinds of fun improvised weapons. There's another group coming from the other direction but they haven't quite caught up yet.

He fucking knew it was too quiet. That something was about to go down. Should have listened to his instincts instead of wasting time winding up the sentient refrigerator.

The leader of the first group starts to walk down the street, swinging a bat through the air. He's not even gripping it properly. One hard impact and that thing'll fly right out of his hands. Absolute amateur.

Personally offended, Majima steps out into the street, gesturing for Kiryu to wait until they know what's going on. He can see Kiryu's frown at being told to stay put when there's a chance to punch something, but rushing in ain't always the solution.

"Hey there, boys," Majima calls out, twirling his blade. "Where's the party?"

The ringleader pauses. "Ain't you we're looking for."

"Haw? Why not? I'm a riot, and that looks like exactly what you guys are after." He bares his teeth in a grin.

"Kiryu Kazuma. He came this way." A swing of the bat that is probably meant to be intimidating, but all it does it amuse him. "There's a cash prize for his head."

"Ohh, so is it a first-come-first-served kinda deal? Cause I gotta tell ya, I'm way faster."

"We all get a share!" shouts another punk. "The Fourth Chairman of the Tojo Clan promised us all enough money to live long and happy lives."

With a frown, Majima cups a hand to his ear. "I hearing right? There ain't no Fourth Chairman. And if there was, no way he'd give you dumb fucks two ten yen coins to rub together."

The ringleader sneers, and Majima is seized with the desire to cut out his tonsils. "Sounds like you're out of the loop, old man. Nishikiyama-san is taking over, and we're making bank. Get out of our way or get in line for a beating."

Majima glances over to Kiryu, who has started to come out of his hiding place with an expression even more like thunder than usual. A hurricane of fury. Fucking idiot should have expected this. Nobody can be trusted, especially not the man who let Kiryu rot in a cell for ten years.

"Still wanna go talk to the bastard?" Majima asks, like he can't see the stubborn determination etched into Kiryu's bones. Guess this is going down now. The other group of numbskulls has arrived from the south end of the street, and the badly executed pincer movement is complete. Every last one of them is going to pay.

Back to back, the two of them ready for a fight. Ready to pummel the living shit out of any bastard who dares challenge them.

Just like the fight at the pier.

Funny, how things can have a symmetry to them like that.

Not going to end with one of them dying this time, though. Especially as Majima has an extra weapon at his disposal. Just would be nice if he'd left it in his fucking pocket instead of swallowing it again like an idiot. Gonna have to tie a string to it or something, like those trick coins for scamming vending machines. He coughs a couple of times until the dark pearl is freed from his throat and held in his hand.

Kiryu's nose wrinkles in distaste. "You're going to fight with that?"

"Why shouldn't I? Gotta use every advantage I have. I'm takin' that bat off the asshole in front, too."

"Majima-san..." Kiryu says, clearly uncomfortable, but the brawl starts and he has little time to say anything else.

The leader goes for Kiryu first, swinging the bat in a clearly telegraphed move that Kiryu is easily able to dodge back from. When the leader swings again, Majima moves left as Kiryu moves right, and the bat connects firmly with Majima's skull.

Donk.

It's hilarious seeing the look on the leader's face as Majima completely no-sells the blow, the bat juddering from the impact and even denting a little. Cheap aluminium shit. Gotta get a high-impact polypropylene over steel or it folds after a few decent knocks. Does nobody do their homework these days? He easily snatches the bat away and connects it firmly with the leader's jaw, snapping it at the joint. Crack. Much better.

He throws the bat aside, going back to his trusty blade as a second man comes for him with a taser. Ooh, he hasn't tested those yet. What would that do? He lets the man jab him with the electrified prongs right in the side, but it doesn't even tickle. Damn. Disappointed, he goes to stab the man right in the chest before he remembers that Kiryu is there and tends to get pissy about that kind of shit. Using the hilt instead, he pummels the man in the temple and he goes down cold. Brain damage maybe, but alive.

Like with the Dojima assholes, the gang members are mostly going for Kiryu, seeing as he's the main target. Majima is just a bonus. Majima watches with delight as Kiryu lifts a rat-faced punk over his head and throws him at his buddies like a bowling ball knocking down pins. Strike! Perfect game!

They could do this forever. Fighting, dancing. Growing stronger with each battle. Nobody can stop them.

Unfortunately, he knows Kiryu has a goal in mind. Can't fight all the time.

"Kiryu-chan," he grunts as he takes down a third attacker, their windpipe crushed with a well-placed kick. "Don't ya got somewhere to be right now?"

Kiryu shakes his head as he smashes a street sign over someone’s back. "Haruka's at Stardust. It's too far from here. We'll have to fight our way through."

A large, muscular arm grabs Kiryu round the neck, but Majima gets there first, pressing the pearl against the attacker's bare wrist until he goes limp and falls back. Majima follows the man to the ground, draining more, wondering just how bright he can get it to glow. How much he can take.

Kiryu's hand comes down on his shoulder and breaks his single-minded focus. "Nii-san. That’s enough."

"Hmph. Just want to make sure he don't cause no more trouble." Majima stands back up, ready to fight the remaining horde. Most of them are coming from the south – probably because they'd expected Kiryu to stay in that area, rather than heading up towards West Park. There's only a few stragglers in the north direction. "If we clear that way, ya can make a run for the taxi rank. I reckon most o' the guys have come up here by now; should be a clear shot to Stardust if ya get to Tenkaichi Street."

Kiryu nods. "And you?"

"I'll take out the trash. Hardly a fair fight, but maybe I'll tie a hand behind my back or somethin'." He grins and cups a hand at his mouth to shout loud. "Any one o' you fuckers wants to take Kiryu-chan's head, ya gotta get past me first! I'm the one who called dibs!"

While Kiryu makes a break for the north side, easily tearing through the handful of men there, Majima faces the brunt of the crowd.

"Got some bad news, fellas. Lately I've been losing what few marbles I still had left. Can't fully say I know what's gonna happen when I let loose with nobody to stop me. So if any of ya feel like running away, there's no shame in that."

Of course, not a single one of them flees. They sneer, manpower and the promise of wealth bolstering their pathetic egos.

Ah well. He'll get Nishida to send incense to the funerals.

With a wild cackle, he leaps into the fray.

***

Majima comes back to himself as the last man slides off the edge of his tantō with a wet squelch, falling dead on the filthy concrete. At some point, the tenuous force holding him together had snapped entirely, turning him into a creature of pure violence and death. He's carved through the army like chattel, beasts for the slaughter. Not a single one remains.

He isn't on Pink Street anymore. He's somewhere near the Millenium Tower. He's also got blood all down his jacket, and... a pocket full of teeth. Huh. The pearl is in there too, glowing less than before. He must have juiced himself up during the fight. Explains why he's jittering, juddering. His skull full of bees and his chest in a vice.

Where's Kiryu? Did he make it to Stardust?

Majima closes his eye and concentrates, feeling for that unmistakeable presence. Not down the street, no. It's… above him? Oh, of course. No wonder Majima had come here. Kiryu is at the Millenium Tower. Doesn’t seem like he's alone, either. The girl and her mother, definitely. And an oppressive, overpowering violence. Not the kind of thing Kiryu should be left to deal with by himself. He definitely needs someone at his back.

And who better than his old pal Majima? Surely Kiryu will appreciate the assist on this one.

The man Majima has just killed is dressed a lot nicer than the gang from before. A fancy pinstriped suit, an earpiece. Looks like he had a gun, too – for what good it did him. There's some serious shit going on, and Majima doesn’t even have half of the pieces.

Doesn't matter. They all die the same anyway.

As he enters the lobby of the Tower, he sees more suits strewn about the place. Groaning, still alive, but out for the count. Kiryu definitely came this way, then. Dumbass should have snuck in the back where he wouldn't be detected. Well, time to go say hi.

Majima gets in the lift and presses the button for the top floor.

Nothing happens. It doesn't light up, doesn't click; the lift stays motionless. Fuck.

There must be a secret, right? Some special way to get the damn thing to work and take him where he needs to be? He can figure this out. He's great at puzzles. Just gotta focus, even though it feels like his skin is made of oil paint and he's had a bath in turpentine.

Aha!

Don't need to be great at puzzles if you're even better at lateral thinking. Lift won't go up to floor 60, right? No problem. He's never been afraid of a little danger, even before he became an unkillable god.

Majima presses the button for floor 59.

Chapter Text

It turns out that climbing an elevator shaft is nowhere near as fun as the movies make it look. For one thing, there isn't an emergency access hatch inside, so Majima has to awkwardly clamber up and smash his way through the top panel, thankful that his fists won't be reduced to paste. Once he's dealt with that, there's just a maintenance ladder up to the floor above. No wild gymnastics or having to shimmy up the cables like an action hero.

Opening the door to floor 60 is definitely the most fun part. Majima braces his feet at either side to hold himself up, tantō in hand, using it to slowly lever the door open with a loud metallic screech. Once there's enough room to throw the blade through and get his hands on the door, he pushes it the rest of the way, forcing the gap wide enough for a body. And then he's in. He made it. He clambers out into the main lobby with a crow of victory.

He's just in time to see a gloriously shirtless Kiryu punch the absolute daylights out of his useless brother. Would have been great to see the whole fight, but the highlight reel will do. Majima cheers a second time as he walks down the carpeted hallway to the main lobby of Ares.

Kiryu seems surprised to see him. Or... alarmed, maybe? Seems harsh. "Majima-san."

"Kiryu-chan! Why the long face? Thought ya'd be happy I showed up."

"You're covered in blood."

"Oh, it's not mine," Majima says, then realises immediately how stupid a statement that is. Obviously, Kiryu knows it's not Majima's blood, and that's the problem. "I took out the guys who were gunning for ya."

"Mm. And now you're here."

"Yeah! To help. Though ya do seem to have done a real nice job rearranging your bro's face already."

Kiryu looks down at the unconscious Nishikiyama with a sigh. "It had to be done."

"Kazuma," says a woman's voice, sounding unsure. "Who is this?"

Oh shit, yeah. There's still two other people here. Whoops. Haruka he remembers, and that's a whole awkward situation right there. The woman must be the one from Serena that Kiryu had said about. Yumi? Something like that. He gives her a little wave. "Yo."

Kiryu sighs. "Nii-san, can you wait downstairs?"

Majima scoffs. "I just climbed all the way up here. I ain't goin' back down again."

As if he can change Majima's mind through sheer force of will, Kiryu continues to stare at him silently.

"Tch, whatever. I'll go sit over there so ya can have your little reunion." Majima shakes his head and goes to the bar proper, wishing he could still get drunk. He'd empty this whole place while Kiryu plays happy families. Instead, he just takes a seat on one of the stools and tries to give Kiryu as much privacy as possible with a short distance and a smashed glass pane as the only barrier between them. Tries not to listen in or begrudge them for needing a moment together. Who is he to judge? He doesn't have sole claim to Kiryu's time, even if he did just take out an army for the guy, along with everything else he's done lately.

However, when a whole damn side of the wall opens up to reveal a huge vault full of cash, well. That's gonna draw Majima's attention right back, no matter how respectful he's trying to be. He turns to see the ten billion yen, sat there right in front of them all. Not that he was ever particularly bothered about obtaining it, but it's interesting to learn where it had been hiding. Even more interesting is the briefcase full of explosives that Yumi carries into the vault to place on top of the cash.

Good for her. Blow the whole bastard place to smithereens. It's a fitting end to the ridiculous nightmare of backstabbing and politics their lives have all been dragged into.

Majima can tell that Nishikiyama is still barely conscious on the floor. Starting to think about coming round, but not yet. So when a powerful surge of murderous rage emanates out of the lobby, he knows Nishiki isn't the source. There's someone else here, furious and out for blood.

"Kiryu!" Majima shouts in warning, leaping out of his bar stool and running towards the source of violence. He doesn't have a clue who it is, or what they want. He just knows he has to stop it.

Unfortunately, the warning only serves to make Kiryu turn just enough that the bullet catches him full in the stomach instead of glancing across his side. It rips through his gut and out again, carving a hole in his back and sending him to the floor.

Majima roars, locking on to the man who dares. Some nobody fucker in a suit who Majima doesn't even recognise, doesn't even have a name for, and he thought he could shoot at Kiryu?! He’s going to regret that for the remaining few seconds of his life. Majima runs for him, teeth bared and screaming. The gun goes off again, several times, but nobody else is getting hurt. This bastard is going down.

Majima reaches the man and wrenches the gun out of his hands, snapping a couple of fingers as he goes. Throwing the weapon aside, Majima then delivers a brutal punch to his face, cracking an eye socket. It's clear the man he's fighting has already been weakened by previous beatings, and it doesn't take much to bring him to the ground.

Not that Majima plans on stopping there.

He's not going to bother with the tantō, and he definitely isn’t planning on filling himself up with whatever disgusting energy this asshole powers himself with. No, this is personal. He's going to get his hands dirty.

Majima climbs on top of the other man and punches him again, three times. The man is babbling, begging, making promises of money or power or some bullshit like that. Nothing that Majima actually wants. What he wants is to crack that skull open like an egg and watch the brains pour out onto the marble floor, as a show of what happens to anyone who tries to hurt someone who matters.

He’s very good at getting what he wants.

Once he’s done, he stands and heads back to the others. Kiryu is laid on the floor, still breathing – thank fuck – while Yumi presses his shirt into the wound to try and hold back the blood. There's a lot of blood. Haruka is crouched near to them both, quietly crying.

"He's not got long, has he?" Majima says flatly. He can feel it; Kiryu's life is slowly draining away. The reassuring warmth and calm strength that had been enveloping Majima since he stepped into the Millenium Tower is fading, leaving only cold and hunger.

Yumi looks up at him. "You- what do you want? Did you come here for the money? I'm destroying it."

Majima sighs. "I don't give a fuck about any o' that. I’m here cause o' him."

Yumi takes this in entirely the wrong way, leaning to cover Kiryu so Majima can't get to him. "I won't let you."

"Shit, come on. I know I don't exactly look like the most trustworthy guy, given, you know. My whole deal. But I'm on your side. I can help him."

Yumi shakes her head, still protecting Kiryu's body with her own. "Stay away."

Damn. Kiryu could have at least told her Majima wasn't a threat to them when they were having their chat, but apparently it didn't come up. "I ain't gonna hurt ya. Look, look." Majima pulls his jacket open more than it already is, showing four fragmented and compressed bullets still stuck in his skin from where he had been shot at increasingly closer range. He brushes them away and they fall to the floor, the tiniest dents left behind. "Bastard shot me too, but it didn't even slow me down. I can help Kiryu-chan heal."

Having no context for why any of that makes sense, Yumi goes to object again, but Kiryu manages to speak up for himself. Blood bubbles at his lips as he rasps, "Nii-san... what are you thinking?"

Majima kneels beside him, on the opposite side to Yumi, and gets the pearl out of his pocket. Still enough charge for one more pop. "Shimano's arms were broken, but they fixed back up good as new once he had this in his mouth. If I heal you, and then spit it out, you should be hunky dory."

Kiryu frowns. "You can't."

A tut. "I promise I won't stay long. Just enough to get you fixed."

Considering he's currently bleeding to death, Kiryu can still manage a pretty firm glare. "I think we both- we both know that's not why..."

Majima gives a deep sigh. "This again. Kazuma. If you're so convinced of this connection bullshit, ya think it's just gonna be roses if you die?" At Kiryu's hesitation, he continues, his voice quieter. "I don't know how much longer I got. It's getting... weird."

Kiryu glances over at Yumi. "You should... take Haruka, and Nishiki. Get out of here."

"I’m not leaving!" Yumi insists. "If this is goodbye, then I want to be here with you."

"Please, Yumi. This isn't the end. I just want you all safe."

Yumi looks to Majima, searching his face. Probably isn't seeing the best side of him, given how he's corpse-pale, losing his mind, and splattered with blood. "You can save him?" she asks.

Majima tries a smile. "I swear on my life."

This finally seems to be enough, and Yumi stands, taking Haruka's hand and going to help Nishiki to his feet so the three of them can go back down to the ground floor together. As they leave, Majima sighs in relief. He doesn't honestly know if this is going to work, but at least he won't hurt anyone innocent if he goes off the deep end.

"Alright, Kiryu-chan. Open wide."

Before Majima can put the pearl in Kiryu's mouth, Kiryu grabs his wrist and pushes it away. "No. I don't want it."

"The hell is your problem?! I told ya already; I won't stay in there like I did with Shimano. You'll heal up and be fine."

A groan. "And... what about you?"

"What about me?"

Kiryu is still holding his wrist. Majima can feel the warmth of it tethering him, like he's a balloon in a thunderstorm and Kiryu is the only thing stopping him from flying away.

"If there's a chance..." Kiryu says. "If I'm the reason you came back, then-"

"Of fucking course you are, Kazuma. Don’t be an idiot. There's nobody I care about more than you."

Kiryu frowns, the bluntness of this declaration stunning him into silence for a moment as it hangs between them. Majima keeps applying pressure to the bullet wound, hoping to buy enough time for Kiryu to finally see sense and let him help.

"You piss me off so much," Majima continues. "With your honour and your goody two-shoes heart and your damn martyr complex. You're always so ready to sacrifice yourself for someone else without even thinking about it."

"So are you, nii-san." The hand that isn't on Majima's wrist reaches up to cup his face, catching him by surprise. "You took a bullet for me. A knife, before that. Now this?"

Majima smiles softly. "Guess ya rubbed off on me after a while."

Kiryu chuckles, then shudders. His hands don't feel warm anymore, that strength fading. "I can't... you can't... I won't let you... "

With a sigh, Majima leans closer so he can rest their foreheads together. "Think of all the people waitin' for ya. The kid and her mom. That dumbass cop. And your brother's gonna need someone keeping him in line. Who's gonna miss me? Nishida? He'll live."

"I'll miss you."

"...yeah. I know. But only one of us gets out of this alive, and I'm way in the red already. Can't keep going on fumes."

Finally, Kiryu relents, nodding slightly. Probably still hoping they can both make it somehow, but at least facing the reality that if they do nothing at all, everybody loses. "Okay. Do it."

This is the only way. Majima doesn't even find himself minding all that much – sure, he's always told himself that he could only die at the hands of one man, but that chance has already been lost. He died days ago. This is just choosing where his body falls.

One final thing to do. No regrets, right? He leans closer, Kiryu's hand still resting on his cheek, and they kiss.

Maybe Kiryu is just taking pity on him, letting him get his last wish. But it feels real enough – the way he pulls Majima in, the way he uses what little strength he has to keep the kiss going. The tiny sigh when Majima finally moves back. It seems like Kiryu might care, too.

And it really sucks that it took everything going to hell for this to happen. Majima would like nothing more than to explore the chiselled body underneath him and see what other noises he can get Kiryu to make, but they don't have the time. It's a miracle Kiryu is still breathing as it is.

Majima raises the pearl to Kiryu's mouth, meeting his gaze with certainty. He's committed to the path he chose, and nothing will change that. Even if he wishes they could have more time.

As Kiryu swallows the glowing pearl, Majima feels that same wrenching lurch in his bones as precious life energy is sucked out of him and pulled into the man he died for, draining him completely. His vision blurring, he collapses to his side onto the floor, unable to move at all.

Just before everything goes dark, he feels a strong arm wrap around him, warm and reassuring. He's not alone.

He's not alone.

Kiryu's wound knits back together, and Majima's soul shatters into a hundred pieces.

***

January 2006

Kiryu is tired of funerals.

Sera's was the first; the event that fully dragged Kiryu into all of this madness. Then Shinji and Reina in private, small affairs. Shimano, all pomp and circumstance over an empty urn. And now... Majima himself. The last service to be held at the Headquarters, hopefully for a long while.

Of course, the memorial ceremonies could have been combined. But Kiryu knows there is no way Majima would want his picture next to Shimano's when he could have a party all to himself.

Not a chance in Hell, or wherever Shimano is rotting now.

So instead, the Tojo HQ is once again filled with a parade of dour men in dark suits offering insincere platitudes and condolence money. Kiryu stands in his formal robes, feeling simultaneously completely out of place and exactly where he needs to be. He'll get used to that duality in time, he's sure.

Nishida had done most of the organising, despite Kiryu insisting he was perfectly capable of doing it alongside his additional new duties. Nishida still hasn't given Kiryu an answer about if he will be formally taking over as the patriarch for the Majima Family. He hasn't really said much at all since Kiryu told him what had happened. Still in shock. He keeps glancing over at Kiryu all throughout the afternoon, nervous and glassy-eyed.

Grab him later, once it's quiet. Set him back on his feet before he falls on his ass.

"Fourth chairman. A word, if you would."

Kazama steps to Kiryu's side as the ceremony ends, after the parade of mourners have milled out into the grounds proper. They haven't had a chance for a real conversation since the dockyards, with Kiryu constantly busy after assuming his new role.

"You don't have to be so formal, Kazama-san. Even if I outrank you now, you're still the man who raised me."

Kazama smiles faintly. "It's good to see you've not changed, Kazuma. Shall we find somewhere quiet?"

They head to a small sitting area in one of the side rooms rather than Kiryu's more ostentatious main office. It's more discreet this way. Kazama closes the door behind them, and Kiryu tries not to look at the windows too obviously. There isn't any reason to be concerned.

"So then," Kazama begins. "Am I to understand that the threat we discussed is dealt with?"

Kiryu sighs, then nods.

"You're sure he didn't take another body?"

"Majima's soul was destroyed. There's no way for him to have taken over anyone else."

Kazama looks relieved. "I'm glad you saw sense. Even a normal person would be difficult to control, but to imagine the Mad Dog of Shimano as a Devourer... I doubt many of us would have survived such a calamity."

Kiryu suppresses the wave of irritation that raises in his gut from those words. Kazama's only concern is with keeping Kamurocho and her people safe. He doesn't know the truth, and he never will, because he wouldn't understand what really happened up there. What Majima did.

"And it proves you're worthy of being the Fourth Chairman," Kazama continues. "You made the right choice, Kazuma. The Tojo Clan is in the best hands we could have."

"Mm," is all Kiryu can say to that. He still isn't sure about taking the role at all, but who else could he give it to? Kazama would refuse. Nishiki chose to turn himself in for Sera's death and is facing his own sentence. Kiryu barely knows the other officers, and certainly not well enough to hand over the mantle without a thought.

The Tojo needs someone strong, smart, and adaptable. Nobody else is ticking those boxes round this stuffy old place, are they?

Kiryu twitches his head like he's trying to clear away cobwebs. "Kazama-san, if that's all you wanted to discuss, I have many duties to attend to today."

"Of course, Kazuma. I'll leave you for the moment."

Kazama leaves the room first, so that Kiryu can have a minute alone.

Except the thing is, he isn't alone at all.

Kiryu approaches the paned windows, looking not at the reinforced glass but at his own reflection within. He can see his strong jaw, his permanent frown. The hair he spent nearly an hour getting into a respectable state for the funeral. And if he looks to his right, he can see another face entirely.

Resting his chin on Kiryu's right shoulder, grinning wildly out from the glass, is Majima Goro.

"You're being distracting, nii-san."

Kiryu can feel the pressure of Majima's head on his shoulder, as well as the arms wrapped around his waist. But if Kazama were to return, he wouldn't see anything at all. Majima exists entirely within Kiryu, their souls somehow fused in that final moment where they both were at the edge of death.

Aw, come on. It's my party! I can be as distracting as I want!

The words, too, aren't exactly heard – though in the reflection, Kiryu can see Majima's lips move. It’s more inside his own head than spoken aloud.

"And what excuse do you have for when it isn't your ‘party’?"

Cause it's fun. I can touch ya all I want and nobody would ever know. I could sing karaoke in your ear on the train. I could suck you off in an officer's meeting. So many exciting things to try!

Kiryu runs a hand down his face. "Please don't do either of those things."

It earns him a pout, and then a laugh. He can feel the amusement too, and it makes him smile despite himself. They're still figuring out exactly how this all comes together, but they know they share each other’s emotions if they’re strong enough. He can always feel whatever Majima is doing to him as well, even if the other man isn’t physically there.

That's not the only thing they share. While it's usually Kiryu in control, Majima can co-opt his body. Unlike with Shimano, it isn't a struggle for dominance; Kiryu has to willingly surrender before Majima can take over. But it means that he's even more unpredictable in a fight. He's physically stronger, too; though his heart still beats and he isn't a walking corpse, it seems like some of Majima's marble-like invulnerability has transferred across to Kiryu.

Only cause ya asked so nicely, Kiryu-chan. Now, are we gonna go back out there and show them how good a chairman ya can be?

"How good a chairman we can be."

Exactly. With my smarts and talent for schemes, and your determination and phenomenal ass, there ain't nothing we can’t do. The Tojo Clan is going to thrive, baby!

Kiryu chuckles. "I'm glad one of us feels confident about it. Alright, let’s go. The sooner we're done, the sooner I can get out of these robes."

Majima cackles, his hands slipping a little lower before he removes them, fading away from the reflection to sit back in Kiryu's head. It truly is a strange, terrifying world that they live in, and Kiryu barely understands any of it.

But at least he’s not alone.