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Chapter Text

It started about a year after the events surrounding the Empty Lot. Makoto had hoped that she could return to Sotenbori, rebuild Hogushi Kaikan from its ashes, and never have to live in fear again. However, her boyfriend had a life in Kamurocho, a clinic, and a ton of patients, and Makoto hadn't been able to bring herself to risk the new, fragile thing they had with a long-distance relationship since there was no way he'd want to move out to Osaka. She could always open a new Hogushi Kaikan in Tokyo instead. She had already lost everything, she was already restarting her life from zero; no need to make her lover leave everything behind for her sake.

Thus started her life in Kamurocho. In more ways than one, it was very similar to Sotenbori. The alleyways were dangerous and she had to avoid them, there were drunks everywhere even during the day, and both yakuza and trash filled the streets. However, there was one very different thing, and it wasn't a good one.

A bit more than a year after she cut all ties to the underworld to live a normal, peaceful life, a man started following her.

She thought nothing of it at first. She'd briefly see a black tuxedo and a white shirt and a bowtie, and think it was just a random businessman. There were plenty of men wearing tuxedos in town, although most of them didn't look quite as clean as this one. But then, one evening, she spotted him again, and she looked, really looked, and what she saw made her run the other way.

The man's face was one of a monster.

She started noticing the man more after that. He was there maybe a few times a week, sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening, always far enough that she couldn't actually accuse him of following her, but always close enough that it was becoming obvious that he was going everywhere she went. He was never there when she was with someone else, be it coworker, friend or boyfriend. Those were the only times she could relax, as he was then nowhere to be seen and she couldn't even feel him looking at her. But he was there when she was alone, and she couldn't even confront him about it. The moment she tried going towards him, he found a corner and somehow disappeared by the time she reached it.

The man's constant presence made her anxious. Sometimes she'd wake up covered in cold sweats at night after dreaming of a white face with horns and a single yellow eye. She'd close her eyes and picture fangs and a black tuxedo. She could never sleep for the rest of the night, after that.

That was probably why part of her was reluctant to admit that things weren't going as smoothly as she wanted them to, with her boyfriend, and that they should probably end their relationship. He wasn't a bad man, not at all, but somehow his touch felt wrong in a way she couldn't explain. He didn't... he didn't feel like him. Like the man who had saved her and disappeared without letting her thank him. Really though, at that point the only reason why she hadn't told her boyfriend that they should break up was because the man with a monstrous face stayed away when she was with someone, and dates were the perfect excuse to go out without fearing he'd be there. But she couldn't keep this up forever.

And this is how Makoto found herself living alone in an apartment with the man following her more and more often when she went out, two years after he had started doing so. He had never done anything to her, had always kept his distance, had always watched her from afar, but that didn't make him any less scary. Did he have nothing else to do? Why was he always following her around?

She finally started getting some answers one evening after work. It wasn't late, since she never went out at night on her own in the streets of Kamurocho, but Makoto was still nervous as she headed home, looking around in case there would be a tuxedo following her. She was so focused on trying to spot one that she noticed too late four thugs blocking the street in front of her. She was close enough by then that one of them grabbed her by the wrist before she could bolt the other way.

"Where's that bodyguard of yours now, eh?"

She shook her head, confused. Bodyguard? What did he mean? The thug grunted and pointed at a nasty bruise on his face.

"What, you don't know? He's the fucker who gave me that shit! And now I'm gonna fuck you up so bad that-"

He never finished his sentence. Something stinky came flying and caught him right on the bruise, exploding on contact with brown liquid and making him howl both in pain and in disgust as he let go of Makoto. She stumbled back with a terrified whimper, falling down.

As for the thugs, they fell silent with a terrified expression as they looked at something that was behind her.

Slowly, slowly, Makoto turned.

She froze when she saw, right there, the man who had been following her, closer than he had ever been. She could see that his face was actually covered by a hannya mask that only stayed in place thanks to an eyepatch covering his left eye. There was a bearded chin underneath the hannya's teeth, and a mouth twisted in a silent growl. Strong fists were clenched on each side of him.

"I-it's you! Asshole!" one of the thugs suddenly shouted, breaking the heavy silence.

And yet, nobody moved. Not Makoto, not the thugs, not the man with the hannya mask. For a few seconds, it was as if time had stopped. Then Makoto blinked once, and the masked man wasn't behind her anymore. A cry of pain made her turn.

The masked man had moved, too fast for anyone to react, and struck three times. The first thug flew back from an incredibly strong punch, the second screamed as a sharp elbow broke his nose, and the third one reeled back, his hands covering his eyes. The only vaguely uninjured attacker was the one who had grabbed Makoto, and he barely had any time to get up that already the masked man was on him, striking with the precision of someone who had been doing this for a long time, leaving no weakness unexploited. The other thugs tried helping, but they were quickly beaten to a pulp.

A knee in the chest finished the job, making the last thug faint, and Makoto could only stare as the masked man got up and looked right at her.

"D-don't come any closer!" she warned when she saw him take one step in her direction.

It worked, surprisingly, and the man stayed where he was, his head tilted very slightly like he was taking her in. The little she could see of his face - his mouth - betrayed no emotion. Makoto whimpered, terrified.

"W-who are you?!" she snapped. "Why do you keep following me?! What do you want from me?!"

Her outburst made him flinch.

Then he simply turned around and left without saying anything, leaving behind a frightened Makoto and four unconscious and very disfigured thugs.

***

Somehow, Hannya-Man, as Makoto started referring to him as, started stalking her even more in the months following that incident. He now appeared sometimes twice in the same day, always at a distance. She was still incredibly uncomfortable with that, even if he had saved her, even if she could guess that the bodyguard the thug had mentioned was most probably this man. She still didn't like being followed, it didn't matter who did it.

That is until, one night, as she headed home after a long late shift, she was stopped by some drunk, young men who were obviously trying to bring a girl home on this cold evening of January 1993. Makoto wasn't interested, far from it, but none of what she said discouraged them.

"C'mon, you should be glad we chose you! We're big time around here, you know? Big time!"
"I'm not interested," she repeated firmly, sidestepping around them and trying to head home without them following.
"That's a lie and you know it, lady! C'mon, it'll be fun!"
"Still no."

A hand reached for her, trying to grab her. Makoto braced herself, ready to jerk back to avoid it or start struggling if it caught her, but it never reached her. Another one had caught the drunk man's wrist, emerging from a side alley filled with deep shadows, and belonging to a man wearing a tuxedo and a mask.

"Hannya-Man..." Makoto murmured, taking a step back, away from the drunks, away from Hannya-Man. She had a hunch that whatever would happen next wouldn't be pretty and she didn't want to be stuck in the middle of it.

She was right.

The drunks didn't even have time to be offended by Hannya-Man's sudden appearance. A minute later they were all either unconscious or groaning in pain on the cold ground, and Hannya-Man turned to look at Makoto. He didn't say anything, just like before, and didn't try to get closer. After a few seconds of looking at her, he turned on his heels and left.

Chapter Text

That event was when their relationship began to change. It was still pretty creepy how he was always following her, but Makoto was warming up to him. He had been there for years now, but he had never done anything to her, never tried getting closer. He had saved her at least twice, maybe more, seeing how the thugs had seemed to know him as her "bodyguard". It implied that he had already encountered them and kept them away from her.

Little by little, she felt herself actually relaxing when she saw him rather than tense up. If he was there, watching over her, then it meant there would be no danger. She even started greeting him from a distance when she spotted him, waving at him shyly, and he'd respond with a deep flourished bow, bringing his right hand behind him while the left arm was brought to the front, fluid and graceful.

However, there was one frustrating thing about their new relationship: Hannya-Man still kept his distance no matter what, even when she voluntarily tried going towards him to maybe speak to him or something. It didn't matter how fast she ran: the moment he turned a corner, it was as if he had never been there in the first place.

It took months and months before she was finally able to approach him. October was turning the leaves to a beautiful golden color that glowed in the evening light when he just stood there and Makoto finally, finally stopped right in front of him. She took a moment to really take him in, observe the mask's anguished expression, her eyes sliding to the one yellow eye, then to the eyepatch, and then to his mouth. She noticed his lips were pulled into a thin line and his entire body was tense. She couldn't see his expression fully, but she could still tell: he was nervous.

"... thank you," she chose to say, keeping it simple, "for saving me."

He bowed his head a little in acknowledgement. Makoto offered him a smile.

"You... you don't need to stay so far away, from now on. I won't run away if you get closer."

This time, Hannya-Man showed no sign that he had heard her and instead turned, walking away silently. Makoto would've been lying if she had said this didn't disappoint her. She went back home after that, hoping that she hadn't scared him away now that she was finally comfortable with his presence.

She was thus pleasantly surprised when she headed out the next morning and found Hannya-Man waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase leading to her apartment. Somehow, it didn't bother her that he knew where she lived. She probably would have been more surprised if he hadn't known, actually. Anyway, he had been around for long enough that he would have already done bad things to her if that was his goal there. She remembered how quickly Oda had dropped the act after figuring out that she was on her own. Hannya-Man had been following her long enough that there was no way he didn't know she had nobody waiting for her at home. And yet, here he was, simply waiting, silent as ever.

"Good morning, Hannya-Man," she greeted him, receiving a deep bow in return, "or should I call you Hannya-san?"

She preferred Hannya-san, since Hannya-Man sounded a bit too much like a superhero name, but she'd keep it that way if he wanted her to. However, he just shrugged, apparently not minding what she called him. It made her smile.

"Hannya-san, then. Shall we go?"

She started towards her workplace and the man followed. They didn't encounter any problem on the way there, although people did look at them - at him - sideways, and Makoto half-expected him to go into Hogushi Kaikan with her. However, she noticed upon arriving there that he had disappeared at some point between her apartment and the clinic. Whether it was because he had spotted trouble or because he didn't want her employees to see him, she didn't know.

But he showed up again a minute after she left work at the end of the day, quietly appearing by her side. He stayed outside though when she stopped at Poppo to grab some milk, and followed her again once she was out. Now that she could take a moment to analyze his habits, Makoto noticed that she had never seen Hannya-Man inside a building. She didn't complain. Like a loyal watchdog, he simply waited for her to come out, then resumed watching over her.

He did exactly that every day she worked, after that, appearing by her side and following her. She grew more and more comfortable in his presence, especially since he always made sure to not get too close, like he knew she had issues with men approaching her. Eventually, she grew comfortable enough that she started talking to him while they were going this way and that on the streets. She started with things he probably already knew from his time following her, then moved on to her past as the months flew by and she found herself trusting him more and more.

They had been doing this for a good while when she told him she had to go out on her day off, if he wanted to come too. Usually she didn't tell him and took a break from his presence then, but she wanted him to be there then.

The day after, the sun was bright and it kept her warm as she took a taxi to the cemetery, Hannya-Man in tow. She stopped in front of her family's grave and greeted her dead relatives, introducing her improvised bodyguard to them. She supposed her brother would have been relieved to see that there was someone there for her.

They were heading out when her watch chimed its little music box tune. She saw Hannya-Man tilting his head to look at it, and Makoto lifted her hand with a smile to allow him to see it better.

"This is my treasure, Hannya-san. I like the sound it makes, it always calms me down. It was broken, before, but someone got it fixed for me, someone who also saved me. I still think about that man, enough that... enough that I still remember his touch on my shoulders, and his voice in my ears, and his scent surrounding me, and he's the reason why I wasn't able to love my ex-boyfriend like he deserved."

She giggled a little, "Of course, I regret this. But I regret even more the fact that I was never able to thank that man, the one who got my watch fixed. You know, I was blind, before, for... reasons I'd rather not talk about right now. I was blind, so I've never seen that man's face, and he's never told me his name. It's a shame, really. I wish I could thank him for everything he did for me, but he disappeared as quickly as he appeared in my life."

She looked at the watch when it stopped, then held her wrist close to her heart, "I was only around him for a few days, not even a week, and yet... and yet, my heart still fully belongs to him."

Hannya-Man grunted at that, making Makoto laugh, "Yes, that means there's no room for you either, Hannya-san. I'm sorry."

He grunted again with a little disappointed gesture. Makoto smiled when she noticed him doing so.

That part was actually slowly, little by little, becoming a bit of a lie.

Chapter Text

There was a lot to like about Hannya-Man, Makoto noticed as the years came and went and he was still following her. Obviously, he kept her safe, but that wasn't what she liked the most about him. No, what she really liked was all the little, simple things he'd do for her. When she was down, he'd disappear and reappear a few minutes later with a box of takoyaki, which he had learned was her favorite food. When she told him she'd rather be alone, he bowed and quietly left, although Makoto knew he was still around and making sure she was safe. When she was asked out by one of her clients and accepted going on a few dates with him, Hannya-Man kept far away, never interrupted them, but made sure the man wouldn't hurt her. If she asked him for his opinion on her outfit before she'd go, he'd offer her the cutest, most awkward thumbs-up with a small nod. But her favorite little gesture was probably the beautiful gentle smile he sometimes sported when she'd tell him about something she really liked. It wasn't much of anything, really, but it was there and for her, that was enough.

Enough that, ten years after seeing Hannya-Man for the first time, Makoto now refused dates and would rather spend her free time outside, talking to the masked man she had fallen for. He had still never spoken, never taken his mask off, but the silence wasn't awkward with him. What he didn't say, he expressed in small gestures and half-hidden facial expressions. Makoto liked trying to imagine his voice and his face. Sometimes he'd let her ask questions about him and he'd answer with nods or head shakes.

She learned things about him that way. Yes, he actually wore an eyepatch even when he didn't have his mask on. No, he didn't wear a tux then. No, he didn't really like tuxedos. Yes, it was part of his Hannya-Man character. Yes, his birthday was soon. No, it wasn't in June. Yes, in May. No, not at the end of it. Yes, it was in two days - and that made Makoto scramble to find him a gift, but she ended up simply giving him homemade cookies, baked in a hurry but still with a lot of care. Yes, the cookies were good - maybe even delicious, since he had nodded so enthusiastically that he had needed to hold his mask so it wouldn't fall. No, there was none left already, although it was the day after his birthday.

Yes, he would always keep her safe. No, it wasn't a burden. No, he wasn't paid for this.

She was so glad about that last part. She wasn't sure what she would have done if he had "told" her that he didn't like doing this and that he was only doing it because someone was paying him to do it.

The more she learned about Hannya-Man, the more she fell for him. She didn't even know his face nor his name. It felt familiar except that, this time, she also didn't even know his voice. What a shame.

Still, she let him be, respecting his boundaries. Somehow, she knew he had a good reason to hide his identity. She thus never asked to hear his voice, never asked him to take his mask off. Just like he never got too close to her, aware by now that she had been through hell before. It was a serene kind of coexistence.

And then, one evening, they were ambushed by twenty men, some of them Makoto recognized since they had been beaten by Hannya-Man in her presence before.

There were ten up front, ten behind them. It was a narrow street with no side alley for Makoto to run off to; it meant she'd have to stay there and try not being in the way. She felt Hannya-Man arrive to the same conclusion as he stood closer to her, much closer than usual. As he got close enough for his scent to wash over her, Makoto felt something stir in her, like a memory she couldn't quite reach. But somehow, this scent was familiar.

"I'll do my best to not be in the way," she told him. "Hannya-san? Please be careful."

He grunted as an answer. Then, he moved.

But it wasn't the same as usual.

The men they were facing had knives, all of them, and while three of them tried keeping Hannya-Man busy, the others came directly for her. Kicks and punches made them back off a little, but nothing strong enough to stagger them. Makoto suddenly understood why: Hannya-Man wasn't using all his strength because he was afraid he'd hit her. That, and the assault being focused on getting her wasn't helping anything. Hannya-Man couldn't be too offensive when he was trying to keep her safe.

He ended up receiving a hit. The knife blade slashed his right thigh and left a bloody gash in its wake. It slowed him down. Another slash left a nasty red line in his white shirt. Another caught him across the back, although this one only caught his jacket. Yet another one opened a deep wound on his left arm, weakening that side. One last knife attack landed on his mask, cracking it enough that a punch broke it in two. It fell off, and Hannya-Man hissed, snarled as he grabbed his eyepatch and put it directly on his eye, his back facing Makoto. Out of somewhere under his tuxedo came a dagger, and he unsheathed it. His clothes were ruined and in the way; he took off jacket, shirt and bowtie, unveiling the leering face of a hannya to Makoto and the men who happened to be behind him. The sheer size and style of the tattoo sent them running: they weren't stupid enough to go against a yakuza. Several men in front of him ran as well, now knowing who he was.

"Mad Dog! Run!"

And now there were only four of them left. Soon enough there were three, then two, then just one as Hannya-Man - the Mad Dog? - became a demon, dagger in hand biting every bit of flesh it could find. All the while he managed to keep his back to Makoto, never letting her see his face.

Finally he stood over the four men who had thought they could best him.He nudged them with a metal-tipped boot and they groaned. He hadn't killed them. Makoto let out a sigh of relief she didn't know she had been holding.

"Um, Hannya-san?" she called out gently.

He didn't turn. Instead he cleaned his blade, sheathed it, then bent to grab his clothes and the remnants of his mask.

A click near them made them both turn.

The barrel of a pistol was pointing right at Makoto. One of the men had regained the ability to move, and he had a gun.

"Die!" he yelled, and pressed the trigger.

Makoto had been shot before. She knew the pain of a bullet wound. She yelped, terrified, bracing for an explosion of agony in her body, and closed her eyes.

It never came.

Through the blood rushing in her ears, she heard someone shout her name. When she opened her eyes, she found a hannya in front of her.

The scream she wanted to let out finally did when Hannya-Man collapsed, having moved and taken the bullet meant for her.

Chapter Text

She was still in Kamurocho.

Majima had almost inhaled his cigarette when he had seen her enter a massage parlor with a familiar green sign with white lettering, a year after the events surrounding the Empty Lot.

Makoto was still in Kamurocho and she had recreated Hogushi Kaikan. What the fuck.

He had tried staying away from her after processing that new knowledge. Trust that she can rebuild her life, you idiot. He had really, really tried staying away.

It had worked for three days.

Then he had stumbled upon a hannya mask in a store and upon his old Lord of the Night clothes during early spring cleaning.

Just a little while later, he had become Hannya-Man.

It was just to make sure she was safe and happy, he told himself. And he couldn't risk her recognizing him as the eyepatch yakuza who had beaten two dudes in front of her. So he had put the mask on and his patch in front of it to hold it in place, and he had stalked out Hogushi Kaikan 2.0, waiting for Makoto to show up. When she did, he stayed far, far from her, simply observing. She looked happy enough.

But didn't she have a doctor boyfriend? Where was that dude?

Majima followed her when she went home, that night. Watched for a while, waited not too far from the house, until he finally saw the doctor come home too. That was good, they were together. But was she happy with him? Better make sure, right?

Over the next few weeks, he followed her now and then, always from a distance, always from far away, until finally she headed out on a date with the doc. And Majima frowned under his mask when he noticed that there was something uncomfortable with the way Makoto moved. Even with him, even with death following them, she had seemed more at ease, towards the end of their short journey together, than she was now. But maybe it was just his terribly spotty memory fucking with him.

He was probably a masochist and a psychopath, but he kept following Makoto around even after that, observing. He wanted her to be happy, damn it! It didn't matter if he suffered while watching the woman he loved with another man by her side. As long as she was happy.

Happy, and safe, too.

He noticed that pretty quickly once he started stalking her. There were creeps regularly trying to get to Makoto. Shadow amongst shadows, Majima made sure to take them out before they could alert her. No need for her to know that the danger wasn't as fully gone as she believed it was.

But what if he hadn't been there? he thought one evening as he followed her home after getting rid of a few pests trying to jump her. The doc was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't protecting her, or at least not protecting her enough.

Majima was so lost in thought that he completely forgot to hide when he saw her turn around to make sure she wasn't followed. He stopped where he was, caught. No time to turn a corner.

She saw him. Really looked at him.

And bolted the other way.

He didn't follow. But his decision was made.

If that doc didn't protect her, Majima would. She'd be scared, he knew she would, and he felt like complete scum about that, but he'd have to keep his eye on her, make sure no creep would hurt her.

You're far creepier than all the creeps combined, you creep, a nasty voice whispered in his mind.

Ya can fuck right off, he retorted. At least I'm doin' this ta keep her safe.

He followed her more frequently in the weeks after. He followed, because every now and then the same pack of guys would try to jump her, hoping he wasn't around that time. And when it wasn't them, it was someone else. Kamurocho wasn't safe for a young woman when she was alone. She must have known that. Her lover must have known that. So why was she still around?

Whatever. That was none of his business.

It was also none of his business why Makoto suddenly moved out of the doc's house and into an apartment of her own. Bad breakup? Maybe. Majima brutally beat down the hope that started flaring in him, and replaced it with deep worry. Her being single meant she'd be alone more often.

Fuck, he couldn't let the assholes hurt her.

It cemented his decision to stay by her side and protect her secretly from the shadows as Hannya-Man. He went to work when he knew she was working too, and he'd be out before her so he could watch over her on her way home.

Except when there was a fucking meeting at Tojo Clan's HQ keeping him busy. Majima ran home the moment he was back in Kamurocho, got changed into his tux and his mask, and went straight for Makoto's usual route home. At this hour, she was probably halfway into it, and he cursed himself for having stalked her long enough to know that.

Voices. Angry voices. Majima turned a corner and- there she was. He grabbed the first thing he saw - a still mostly full cup of super old coffee with too much sugar in it - and threw it carefully, aiming for the bruise he remembered giving the asshole who was holding Makoto.

Perfect throw. He could have had a career in baseball if he hadn't joined the yakuza.

He got closer from behind Makoto, the closest he had been since he had left her without telling her who he was. She turned slowly, scared of both the men and whoever she could feel approaching behind her. Still, there was strength in her eyes when he saw them. He liked that. And she was still so, so cute.

His fists were clenched tightly and he considered hitting the thugs until they'd stop moving forever. However, Makoto was right there, and he wouldn't kill anyone in front of her. Now, when she wasn't around, that was a different story. He had killed for her before. The men who had tried to stop him on the rooftop had found out too late that he had meant it when he had roared "nobody leaves alive".

But those guys hadn't shot Makoto. They were just assholes. They didn't deserve his blade. Majima huffed. Time to rely on the good ol' fighting styles.

It was over quickly, really. And obviously enough, Makoto wanted him as far away from her as possible. It made sense. He was just a creepy stalker to her. Fuck, she was so cute. Why had he left her already? Why was he doing this? He closed his eye slowly, shame and regret filling him.

"What do you want from me?!" she snapped, and he couldn't stop himself from flinching. He hated the way her voice had cracked then, betraying her fear.

He left. He couldn't be close to her. If he could, he wouldn't be wearing these clothes and this mask.

There was a problem though. This situation was proof enough that she wasn't safe, proof enough that he had to make sure nobody got to her. He'd have to follow her more, and she'd be scared of him, but he had no choice. How else was he going to keep her safe?

***

He hadn't expected Makoto to actually warm up to him, even after he had saved her right on time twice. And yet she stopped tensing up when she spotted him, even started relaxing instead. He was caught off-guard when she waved at him one morning, and his first instinct was to use his Lord of the Night reverence as a response. He had barely managed to contain the "welcome, sir" that wanted to come out, irredeemably linked to that gesture and those clothes in his mind.

And then, she tried getting close to him. He had felt the panic choke him when he saw her walk or even run towards him. Bins and giant cones were his best friends in those moments. He had to fold his long limbs to even fit, but somehow it still worked.

However, as the months passed and she wasn't giving up, Majima got tired to run. He let her approach him. He was nervous as hell though. What if she tried to take his mask off? He wouldn't dare stop her, and then she'd know who he was because she was a smart woman who deserved better than to be followed by a creepy yakuza like him.

He was beyond relieved when she chose to simply thank him instead.

And panicked again when she said he could be closer.

Needless to say, he didn't sleep that night, and his exhausted brain betrayed him and gave his legs the order to wait for Makoto near her apartment the next morning. And she called him Hannya-Man, and Hannya-san, and it didn't matter what she called him because fuck, he was just glad to hear her voice again.

As days became weeks that became months, he noticed how she grew more and more relaxed with him around. She told him stories, some he knew, some he didn't, but once again none of it mattered as long as he could shut up and listen to her all day.

He felt as if someone had stabbed him in his one remaining eye however when Makoto brought him to meet her dead family and proceeded to tell him that she was in love with the stranger who had saved her years ago. He felt himself tremble with all sorts of emotions when she also said that she hadn't been able to love the doctor because of that man.

Fuck. Fuck! He didn't need that! She still thought about him? They had barely known each other! And yet... and yet, here he was, following her like a puppy because he also loved her beyond words. He had a little grunt, realizing that they were both hopeless.

"Yes, that means there's no room for you either, Hannya-san. I'm sorry."

He made a disappointed gesture, if only so that she wouldn't realize he had made a noise for very different reasons.

***

Years had passed in a nice, quiet blur, years of protecting her and loving her and being unable to refuse her anything. He tried cheering her up when she felt down, he stayed far if she wanted him gone, he even encouraged her when she had dates because 1) he was a masochist and 2) she deserved to love and be loved by a real man, one she could be seen with in public, one who didn't have to keep secrets from her, one who didn't have to hide his face and his voice to be in her presence.

And one who wasn't just an idealized memory of a young guy with a fake Kansai accent who had saved her because she had suddenly become everything to him.

But it had been about ten years since he first started following her, and for some reason Makoto wasn't going on dates anymore. Majima refused to believe it was because she liked him. Why would she, anyway? She didn't know him, didn't know his face, didn't know his name.

She didn't know you, back then, and yet, a voice tried whispering in his mind. He shut the voice up. It sounded too much like hope.

And then, one night, they were ambushed by a whole pack of goons, and their target was Makoto. Majima was stuck on the defensive. He couldn't risk anyone touching Makoto, but he also couldn't risk hurting her with a stray kick or punch.

When they broke his mask, he felt the Mad Dog come out to play. It wasn't a different personality, no, he wasn't quite that good for the asylum, but it was still a part of him. And if those goons didn't want to fight Hannya-Man, who was calmer and more reserved, then so be it. They wouldn't fight Hannya-Man. But they'd better be ready for an untamed beast.

Most of them fled after he took his shirt off. Good, that was the goal. Four thugs were no problem. He didn't even need to let Makoto see him.

But his heart practically stopped when he saw the gun pointed at Makoto. He had a flash then, a scene from a decade ago and a small hand he grasped in his own and begged whoever was listening to help her so she wouldn't die, so she'd stay with him. He wouldn't survive a repeat of that.

"MAKOTO!"

His body moved on its own. Next thing he knew, pain bloomed in his chest and his legs folded under him. Then, everything went black.

Chapter Text

It was the pain that woke him up. It jolted him awake after he tried turning over in his sleep, and he gasped as his eye shot open. There was white everywhere. Was he dead? Was a dead person supposed to feel such pain? Was a dead person supposed to hear a constant annoying beeping sound?

Makoto. Was Makoto all right?! He remembered a fight and a gun and a flashback. He had taken the bullet for her, had felt his chest start bleeding. But he had collapsed before he could fuck up the asshole who had fired. There was no way the man only had one bullet. But maybe he had lost consciousness after shooting. Majima really hoped that was what happened.

He forced his eye to focus, ignoring the splitting headache that followed, and he noticed his dagger on the bedside table. There was a curtain preventing him from seeing the rest of the room he was in, but he figured it was probably a hospital room, since it smelled so strongly of disinfectant. He could feel his eyepatch covering his left eye. That was good, he hated taking that thing off when he wasn't alone at home. He sucked in a harsh, painful breath, then gathered all his strength to turn his head to his right side in order to give his neck a break.

Beautiful eyes met his remaining one, and he felt the panic rising in his chest along with the pain from the bullet wound.

"Ma... ko... to..." he breathed out before his brain could catch up.

She was there. Alive and well. In her hand were the remnants of his hannya mask. His heart rate spiked up and the constant beeping in the background accelerated with it. The machine started freaking out when he saw big glossy tears appearing in Makoto's eyes. He tried moving to wipe them, but fell back with a pained gasp before he could lift his arm.

"Y... you're awake," Makoto cried, shoulders trembling. "You... you didn't leave me like my brother and Lee-san did...!"

He stopped moving entirely at that, letting the words sink in. Fuck. He hadn't thought of that. Hadn't thought that-

Wait. Did... did she know...?

"MAKOTO!" he had screamed before taking the bullet. Right. Of course she knew. That was probably a familiar shout to her.

He looked away, shame, guilt and regret making him unable to face her at the moment. She knew who he was. She knew he had been keeping secrets from her. She knew he had killed for her. She knew he had left her.

"H... Hannya-san..."

Despite him, he looked back towards her, meeting her eyes again. She was still crying, but she put his mask down and took his right hand in both of hers, squeezing just like he had done with her a decade ago after she was shot.

"Thank you... thank you so much...!"

For saving her back then. For saving her now.

For not dying.

Majima huffed a pained little laugh. Talking in her presence felt weird, after so much time spent in silence when he was around her. But the mask was broken now. He squeezed back weakly.

"I... love you, Makoto," he breathed out, voice low and rough and pained. "I've never... stopped loving you."
"Hannya-san..."
"Majima. Goro Majima. That's... my name."

Talking hurt so much. And yet, once he started telling her about who he was and why he had left her and why he had come back, even the pain wasn't able to stop him, because she deserved to know all this.

And she deserved to know that he couldn't stay by her side. The only one who could was Hannya-Man, and that wasn't an option anymore. Their attackers knew who Hannya-Man was now. Being around her would only bring danger to her.

"I ain't gonna drag ya down into the abyss with me, Makoto," he concluded, his voice a whisper by then. "Ya deserve a good life."

He remembered her telling him that she still loved the one who had saved her.

"An' it ain't good, clingin' to the past like that. I don't got the sanity I had back then, and I already didn't have much of it at the time. I can't give ya what you deserve."

She had kept quiet the entire time he had been talking. But her eyes now burned with fierce determination.

"I don't love that man anymore, that stranger who left me without telling me who he was," she said. "I know I was just clinging to my memories of him."

That's for the best, he thought, even if he wasn't sure whether the pain in his chest was from his heart breaking or the wound.

"The one I love now, well, he didn't tell me who he was for a long time," she continued, and Majima felt the panic rising, the machine in the room beeping faster than ever.

"Makoto-"
"Let me finish."

He shut his mouth tightly, and listened.

"At first I was scared of him. He kept stalking me like a creep. Then he saved me and I understood he was just watching over me. He's quiet, but he's very sweet and he places my happiness," she touched the bandages covering his chest, "and my safety well above his own."

Her eyes were downright mischievous when she finished, "Oh, and when he does speak, he talks big about me needing to let go of the past, but he's the one who's been protecting me for ten years without expecting anything in return. So tell me, Majima-san... what am I supposed to do, then, if my happiness lies with this very handsome one-eyed man?"

Majima's eye stung with tears, but he'd never admit it. Instead, he pulled Makoto closer, close enough that he could graze her lips with his own, and smile into the kiss.

"... awright. Ya got me."

It would be dangerous, but fuck it. As long as she wanted him there, he'd be by her side. Not as Hannya-Man, the masked man who never spoke a word, not as the Mad Dog of Shimano, the yakuza who was equally respected and feared in the underworld, but simply as Goro Majima, the man who loved her more than anything.