Chapter Text
To any other twelve-year-old, Mondays meant the beginning of a new week of homework assignments and early wake-up times, but little Daigo knew Mondays as something more: Mail days. Usually, the mail consisted of bills, adult magazine subscription, and important secret documents for his father (among other things Daigo couldn’t give two shits about), but every so often there came a sealed envelope with his name on it.
On Monday, Daigo came home from school in a strange mood; he hadn’t heard from his Kansai penpal in a few weeks. Letters from this penpal Ryuji Goda were always a little pleasure for Daigo to anticipate. They were some of the only messages addressed to him, not letters he had to give to his father or packages followed by a pitiful “Please give this to your mother, little one.” No, these letters screamed “DAIGO DOJIMA” in that heavy hand with which Ryuji wrote. Daigo knew that the Kansai boy held the pen to the paper with force as though it wouldn’t write otherwise. From what he'd read in previous letters, he could tell Ryuji was the kind of boy one usually avoids on the playgrounds. Sometimes reading the notes made him feel relieved that he was on the boy’s good side.
Daigo kicked his shoes off and rushed over to the mail pile on the table by the door, backpack still in tow. The house was as empty as it always was: his father was at work, and his mother... he never really knew where his mother was. It didn’t matter now. What mattered was that the pile didn’t look good. Most of the contents of the heap in front of Daigo were messages from persnickety companies or critical reports from his father’s men, and for a moment Daigo thought today would be another unfruitful day. Nonetheless, he kept digging, his little fingers practically trembling as he searched for his name written somewhere.
A few minutes passed, and Daigo was beginning to lose hope. Man, fuck this! It’ll probably be here next week. Just as he was about to give up and call it quits, however, he noticed a small brown envelope peeking out from behind a magazine whose contents Daigo wasn’t supposed to know. He knew anyway. The little boy’s eyes widened as he snatched the envelope out from the bottom of the pile, and sure enough, there was his name in that familiar bold handwriting. His heart skipped a beat as he carefully read his name, his address, the return address, everything. He made a conscious effort to understand every word Ryuji wrote, going so far as to try reading the scratched out mistakes that sometimes littered the paper inside.
Daigo let out a laugh of relief. Why wouldn’t he? He was home alone, so no one was around to judge him. Not only that, but here it was! A new letter from Ryuji! Daigo speculated that the last note was about a month ago, so he figured this message had to be chock-full of stories about Ryuji’s whereabouts, his friends, and what life was like in Kansai. Only a matter of minutes before he found out.
Daigo’s backpack practically flew off his back from how quickly he rushed to his room. His mother must have cleaned up that day, as the bed was made, the clothes on the floor were put away, and his desk was neatly organized. Perfect. He settled down at his desk and carefully tore the seal flap open, taking extra precautions so he wouldn’t rip the delicate paper. He liked to save the letters in the envelopes they came in, and he wondered if Ryuji did the same. It was unlikely. Ryuji was the kind of guy to tear the pockets open without a second thought.
When the seal was entirely broken, and the contents of the envelope were revealed, Daigo took a moment to inspect everything inside. It wasn’t often that Ryuji sent multiple pieces of paper, but sure enough, there were two slips of paper instead of one. One of them was messily wrapped in tissue paper, which Daigo set aside for now. He was sure it would come up in the letter.
The letter was unusually long. Ryuji wrote on lined paper torn out of his school notebook, and he never bothered to rip off the fringe before sending it. His handwriting was messy but legible, and Daigo honestly couldn’t picture it any other way. He’d gotten used to having to squint to read some of the words.
He’d been getting these letters since the end of fifth grade, but they never failed to make him smile. He met Ryuji through an end of the year school assignment that required everyone to send a letter to Kansai, an effort made to get kids to think about life outside of their hometown. Most of the relationships that Daigo’s classmates formed with the kids in Kansai fizzled out after one or two letters, but Daigo’s kept going strong. Ryuji was the only kid his age he could trust.
Daigo unfolded the letter and smoothed it out as best he could, making sure not to smudge the ink marking both sides of the paper. With a small smile still on his face, Daigo began to read:
Yo, Dai-chan!
I hope things are going well for you in school. Ya seem like you get good grades. Whatcha wanna be when ya grow up? Gonna follow in your dad’s footsteps?
Daigo stopped reading for a second and thought about that sentence. Follow in your dad’s footsteps. At the moment, Daigo didn’t want anything to do with his father or his line of work. He almost had a how dare you moment, silently resenting Ryuji for even assuming such a thing. Then again, he didn’t know what he wanted to do. What was Ryuji doing thinking about his future at such a young age?
I’m pretty sure I know what I wanna do. Figured it out today. I’m gonna surpass my dad and become the Chairman of the Omi Alliance. Hell, I’ll become more than that. But you bet your ass I’m gonna surpass my ol’ man no matter what! Pretty embarrassing how I had that realization, but I’ll tell ya anyway. I know my secret’s safe with you.
Daigo laughed to himself. He’d never met Ryuji in person, but he knew his pen pal had a soft spot for him. No way in hell he spoke - or wrote - this way to everyone.
Today I was out doing my usual Bontan hunt, and this high schooler came by wearing a mighty fine pair of those nice-ass pants. I had to have ‘em, y’know? But get this: he had a ponytail and one eye. The fuck kinda upbringing did this kid have? Anyway, I approached him, told him I had my eye on his pants, and we fought. He beat the shit outta me real good. Hurt like hell! Then a couple’a kids from school came outta nowhere, starting chattin’ this guy up, whatever. Sons of bitches ratted me out! I denied that shit so fast. There wasn’t any way I was gonna take the shit this one-eyed slugger dealt to me. I made a pact to him and myself that I would work real hard to make my ol’ man proud. ‘Course you’re invited to my inauguration when I’m chairman.
Daigo set the letter down for a moment. That was a lot of information to process: a one-eyed high schooler, the reveal of Ryuji’s true intentions, the declaration of his future. Daigo had his future laid out in front of him already. No matter what he wanted to do, he’d end up inheriting the Dojima family from his father. There was no way around it. Daigo was okay with it - as okay as he could be, at least - but he didn’t consider it something he looked forward to. Ryuji, however, seemed determined to grow up and take over the Omi Alliance. Add it to the list of things I admire about him, I guess.
What would it mean for their friendship once they were grown up? Ryuji said in a letter that his father was the Chairman of the Omi Alliance, to which Daigo reciprocated by explaining his ties to the yakuza. In a way, their friendship was forbidden. Sohei didn’t know about this Kansai pen pal, let alone that he was the son of the Omi Chairman. If he found out, who knows what that meant for the two boys? They’d likely never be able to speak again.
It was almost as if it came out of a fairy tale. Two boys from different worlds come together practically by force, and they had much more in common than meets the eye. Were they meant for each other? That was a weird way of putting it, but in a sense, yes they were. Only in a platonic way, Daigo told himself. Nothing more.
There was a back to the letter, which Daigo knew about by the way the paper lifted under Ryuji’s pen pressure. He turned the paper over with both hands, careful not to rip it or crease it in any way.
Anyway, I was talking to Teach about you, and she said she’s proud of me for keeping this up for so long. Like I give a shit. Today she asked if I knew what you looked like, but...I didn’t have an answer for her. All this time and I still don’t know what you look like? What the fuck, Dai-chan?!
Like I have anything to apologize for! Daigo thought. It was bold of Ryuji to “yell” at him like that. They’d never discussed exchanging photos or anything like that. It never came up in conversation, and now Daigo was getting backlash for it? What the fuck!
I’m just teasing. Did you see those other things in the envelope? One of them is a picture of me. Found it lying around the house. Now you better send one of yourself to me, or I’m gonna be pissed! Getting rid of this whole mystery kinda thing, you know? I ain’t just a random boy miles away who ya talk to. Nah, once you look at that picture, I’m a face to a name.
Daigo’s heart skipped a beat. He’d never stopped to consider what Ryuji might look like, so he had no idea what to expect. If he had to make a guess, though, he’d say he looked like the upperclassmen in Kamurocho. Maybe a black pompadour, Bontan (obviously), and a nasty scowl permanently etched on his face. Something like that, despite Ryuji’s young age.
He glanced at the poorly wrapped slip he’d put aside earlier. He had to admit he was nervous to some degree. What if he was being catfished? His mother warned him about that many times. She didn’t understand. Times are different, Mom. I can handle myself. He reached over to the photo and picked it up, turning it a few times in his hands before making a small incision in the tissue paper hiding its contents. Daigo meticulously tore the paper away, revealing a figure standing alone against a wall.
Okay, not at all what Daigo expected. For one thing, Ryuji was blond. Daigo had never seen a Japanese person with such light hair, and not to mention his eyebrows matched! For a second Daigo thought it was natural, but as he looked closer, he could see that Ryuji’s black roots were vaguely there.
Who the fuck bleaches their eyebrows? Isn’t that bad for you? He thought to himself, a small smile creeping up the corner of his lip as he admired the boy in the picture.
Ryuji kept his hair neatly slicked back with hair gel, which was surprising. Daigo assumed Ryuji was the kind of guy who never brushed his hair, let alone give enough shits about it to slick it back every morning. There was something... appealing about that, at least in Daigo’s eyes.
The longer the Tokyo boy looked at his Kansai friend, the older he looked. He swore he was in elementary school, and now Daigo could see that he had the school bag to match his claims. It didn’t seem right on him. Daigo assumed this guy could easily pass as a high schooler or maybe even an adult if he wore something different.
Speaking of, while Ryuji had his school bag, he sure as hell didn’t have a uniform on. He instead chose to wear a t-shirt and black slacks with a long coat that reached down to his knees. His appearance raised a few questions: did Kansai schools have uniforms? Was this picture taken on a Sunday? Why does Ryuji carry his school bag with him if he doesn’t have school? Is he allowed to wear whatever he wants because his teachers are afraid of him? ...Yikes. In any case, Daigo knew one thing was sure: If he ever made a trip to Kansai, he’d know Ryuji right away. It’s hard to miss someone who looks like that.
Sorry for the scribbled handwriting this time around, Dai-chan. I’m on a bench and there’s not a lot of places where I can lay the paper flat. Hope to hear from ya soon! I’m expecting a picture, don’t forget!!! I bet you’re a cutie or whatever.
Ryuji
...Wait, what?!