Chapter Text
Nothing about them had ever been conventional. As enemies, they were odd ones: fighting with too much caution, like nothing was real, like no hit should ever truly hurt or break. Each move they made towards each other came with a plan of escape – there must always be a way out. After they became allies things were much the same. They still fought, maintained their passive-aggressive nicknames for each other, and Majima continued to construct nonsense schemes for Kiryu to puzzle his way out of, usually with his fists. One time he had only been going to the closest Poppo to buy milk for Haruka’s breakfast, and when he turned the corner Majima was there, grinning and holding his knife like a mugger. He demanded Kiryu pay the toll – money or his life, either would do! Kiryu smashed the bottle he’d bought over his head and Majima shrieked with laughter like it was the greatest response in the world, and Kiryu found himself smiling along with him. Haruka had toast that morning.
If you didn’t know them it could well seem as if nothing had changed. Ultimately they both ended up beaten and blooded. But – that end was now their choice. Without Kazama, Nishikiyama and Shimano they were no longer simple pawns without agency. For the first time since they had met their destiny was their own, and there was a raw pleasure in knowing that even as they kicked and screamed and – on one occasion – tore Kiryu’s new apartment to pieces, the day after he and Haruka had moved in. Majima paid for the damages, of course. After all, Kiryu had an adorable little squirt with him now, and he wasn’t the sort of man who’d leave such a cute girl with no roof over her head.
The ‘housewarming’ visit, as he’d put it, had been the first time Majima had met Haruka since everything had ended. Kiryu hadn’t told him he’d adopted her, or that they were moving to a new home, but he’d found out anyway and shown up with arms full of convenience store snacks and two of his guys behind him struggling with a kotatsu far too big for just a man and a child. It was a welcoming present, apparently. Despite the show of generosity, things devolved quickly. After Kiryu finally managed to kick Majima out the door, Haruka looked at him and asked if they were together.
Once Kiryu understood what she meant he quickly denied it. People who loved each other didn’t behave this way. It was important she understood that.
Later, once she was asleep and Kiryu was alone, doing his best to wash the crockery that wasn’t broken, he realised that he was in no position to lecture anyone on what love was. It wasn’t an issue only concerning Majima – every close bond Kiryu had ever had came with strange, blurred boundaries, father and master, brother and rival. That fact had never stopped him from loving who he wanted. No one had the right to say that love wasn’t, couldn’t be, an unconventional way of hosting a ‘welcome back from prison’ party when no one else would, a dedicated plan to get him strong enough to survive the coming war, an invitation to blow off enough steam that he wouldn’t go mad. By the time the last bowl was dried and put away Kiryu had become aware that yes, in a sense, Haruka hadn’t been wrong. All he’d been thinking about since his release was his family, and how he could protect as much of it as possible, but somehow – during that time, someone else had become just as important to him, without him realising. He was falling in love with Majima.
If their friendship had been unconventional, what came afterwards was even more so. No time seemed right to talk. How did you hold a conversation with a man like that? No – it was impossible. Majima only spoke the truth in actions, a language Kiryu could learn if that was what it took because, truly, this was something they needed.
The next time they fought it was raining, and Majima had disguised himself as a street performer – a silent acrobat who’d begged Kiryu with frantic gestures for help locating the perfect place for him to draw an audience – and Kiryu had followed him, patiently, until the rain had worn away enough of the paint on his back to reveal the hannya. When Kiryu recognised the ink he grabbed Majima by his bad wig and dragged him, flailing, into a dead end where they couldn’t be seen, pushing him against the wall. Majima had given up the silent act by then and energy was rippling all over his body as he praised Kiryu, scratching away the worst of the remaining paint, bouncing on his heels in anticipation of the usual violence he’d become accustomed to receiving.
Kiryu leaned in close and Majima stopped. He looked at Kiryu’s mouth. He didn’t push him away. Kiryu leaned in further.
The next time he took Majima to his home Haruka didn’t need to ask what they were. Majima had brought her another gift; a rabbit, this time, almost too big for her to hold, with a pink ribbon around its neck and a coy little smile. Haruka held it tight, looked between Majima (nervous, back straight, fidgeting his hands) and Kiryu (unable to make eye-contact with either of them) and suggested that she go to her room and leave them alone.
Both men said no at the same time. They glanced at each other.
“Majima-san wanted to spend time with you, too.”
“Y-yeah! Thought we could, ah. Get to know each other, yeah? Maybe…start fresh, like. Because – ya know, I wasn’t at my best before.”
“Before?” Haruka shifted the rabbit to get a better grip. “Do you mean when you attacked our home or when you kidnapped me?”
“Oh! Ah. Well, when ya – aha, when ya say it like that…”
Kiryu bent down to Haruka’s level. “Majima-san wants to make up for both of those times. It’s your decision. If you’re uncomfortable, he doesn’t have to be here.”
Haruka looked from Kiryu (jaw tense, grimacing) to Majima (pale, holding his arms out at his sides, looking like he wanted to flee). “…He can stay.”
Even with her blessing, Kiryu still had to stop Majima from running out the door to buy Haruka more apology gifts. If they weren’t careful, she’d learn to see Majima’s ‘throw material goods at the problem’ system as something she could exploit. They spent the evening playing board games Kashiwagi had given them – apparently, he’d been collecting them, but he wanted them to go to someone who would actually have time to use them. When he was leaving, Majima paused, turned to Kiryu, and pressed his lips to his cheek. It was their second kiss.
As the months went by, Majima visited more and more. He never fully recovered from his impulse to guiltily spoil Haruka, and Kiryu never tried very hard to stop him. After all, she deserved far more than Kiryu could ever afford to give her by himself. If a soft toy or a new outfit made her happy, then it could only be a good thing. Soon it became a habit of theirs to spend entire weekends together – at first, Majima would go home at night, but when Kiryu noticed Haruka staring at him with some disdain, he invited him to stay over. Majima babbled something about not wanting to impose. A family needed time alone, yeah? He wasn’t offended or nothin’ about havin’ to go, so y’know, he’d just – go! And come back the next day, if that was still on, because it just made more sense that way!
In the middle of his ramble Haruka took Majima’s hand, firmly, and pulled him back over to the sofa. “Uncle Goro, we want you to stay. Right?” She looked at Kiryu.
“A…ah. Yes.” Kiryu shifted, trying not to think too hard about where exactly in the apartment Majima would be sleeping if he did.
“Because,” Haruka pressed on. “You are our family. Uncle Kaz said so.”
Majima stared up at Kiryu. His mouth hung open, his eye was wide. At least he didn’t look as if he was about to bolt this time. “Y-ya said that? Kiryu-chan?”
“…I…”
“Ah!” Majima jumped to his feet, clapping his hands. “Never mind that! I just remembered somethin’! Read about another game online – we gotta play this!”
The mention of a new game immediately captured Haruka’s attention, and as Majima described the set-up – apparently, they needed salt, a doll, some rope and, alarmingly, a kitchen knife – Kiryu had the chance to breathe.
The three of them were an unconventional family. But at this point, there was no denying that was what they were. They still fought, Majima never completely abandoned his petty schemes, and yes, to others it would seem very much as if things were the same as they had been when Kiryu left prison, but that wasn’t the case at all. At some point during the evening, after Kiryu had firmly told Majima that they would not be summoning a demon into one of Haruka’s toys to chase them around the apartment, Haruka dragged her rabbit plush through to cuddle as they watched a film before bed. When Majima saw that she’d tugged the pink ribbon from its neck up to cover its left eye, he made a panicked choking noise and ducked out of the way into the kitchen, staying there for so long he nearly missed the opening scene.
As time went on, Majima spent even more evenings with them. Most nights he was there late enough it was easier for him just to stay, and then of course, it made just as much sense that he keep spare clothes and essentials there too. His sleepwear, thankfully, was significantly less dramatic than his work outfit, and so were the comfortable things he threw on to lounge around with Haruka. They were…cute, even. As Kiryu looked at them during his weekly struggle to do the laundry, he found himself missing Majima. Somehow the soft pink tank top plastered with a beaming, doe-eyed cartoon girl wasn’t an adequate substitute. They had only been a day apart but – yeah, he missed him.
When they ran into each other on the streets that night (and the look in Majima’s eye told him that might not have been a coincidence), Kiryu didn’t even bother with the pretence. He swung at Majima without letting him say a word, and, delighted, Majima threw himself forward and rolled into Kiryu’s blind spot, kicking out hard enough to slam him face-first into the wall.
It was a more challenging fight than usual. Kiryu was overly-eager, the way his opponent usually was, and Majima exploited all of his mistakes in the same ruthless way Kiryu had before. Majima didn’t let him live with a single one of them – he taunted Kiryu as he dodged around him, which only proved to make Kiryu bolder and more stupid. He still won, in the end, but it was a painful victory.
Majima collapsed, panting, across the ground, hair wet with blood and a heavy bruise already growing across his chest. He blinked and grinned up at Kiryu, looking just as ecstatic as he did the third time he spent the night in his home, when Kiryu finally found the courage to invite him off the sofa and into his bed, and they touched each other for the first time. Kiryu stood over him now, thinking about the kotatsu, about the rabbit, about the clothes and all the times they’d held each other. About their first kiss. About the first time Majima had beaten him bloody on the streets.
Kiryu fell down onto his knees. He was breathing heavily too, he realised, as he watched Majima push his hair out of his face and sit up enough that he could keep looking at him. Kiryu wanted to crawl over his body and kiss him more than he’d ever wanted anything. Instead, he filled his lungs with air enough that he could speak, and –
“Will – you marry me?”
It was unconventional. But then, when had they ever been otherwise? Majima stared at him a moment, then flopped back down, spreading his limbs out in the dirt like it was snow.
“Fuck off. Yeah. Fuck it. Yeah, I will.”