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The winter sky is a deep shade of violet, the air outside is frozen just before the first snowfall of the year.
“I should go home,” Nishiki mumbles in a drunken slur into the quiet of the small living space of Kiryu’s single-room apartment. His gaze is bleary but manages to focus on the door leading into the cold, and the low rattling noise of the air conditioning is the only background music to his words as he thinks of going home to sleep in his bed. Yet he does not make any attempt at walking up to the door, his feet and legs are glued solid to the cheap tatami mats that feel warm und soft beneath his thin socks and suit pants, like he’s molten to the ground. Unwillingly, he contemplates giving up the source of warmth on this cold winter night for a soft comfy bed at home.
After a few confusing seconds for his friend and sworn brother, who sits on the opposite side of the small wooden table between them, Nishiki reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a lighter. “One last cigarette,” he says and undemonstratively lifts it up to his lips. Kiryu’s eyes twinkle just barely as he smiles a little in response.
The smoke twirls up between them as they share silent deep breaths, and the cigarette lasts a long time before one cigarette becomes two and two become three. Outside, the first snowflakes fall softly to the ground.
Their comfortable setting is eventually interrupted by a loud yawning, causing the short-haired yakuza to ashamedly hide his face while rubbing at the dark circles around his eyes.
“Right, I had forgotten that you’ve been up since six in the morning, kyoudai. You look like you could fall asleep on the spot,” Nishiki remarks with a hint of guilt, feeling that he’s overstayed his welcome. It is way past midnight; he’ll be lucky if he runs into a taxi in this neighborhood at this hour.
Putting out his cigarette stub in the ashtray, he stems his arms into his knees before groggily getting up on his feet.
“Nishiki, aren’t you the same? I saw you at the family’s office when I dropped by in the morning.”
“True, but I wasn’t dragging my sorry ass halfway across town running errands like some idiot monkey today. No surprise that you like getting into fights, with that amount of energy. And when we hit the clubs on Friday nights, not a trace of it is left. I wonder about that sometimes.” Indeed, it is due to that reason, that tonight they have decided to skip the socializing and partying and instead enjoyed the cans of beer in the privacy of Kiryu’s apartment.
The affronted yakuza doesn’t know what to respond to that, so a simple frown mars his face. He stands up as well.
“If I’m boring you …”
Nishiki interrupts with a wave of his hand, clicking his tongue. “I’m worrying about you, dumbass, not about me.”
“Okay,” Kiryu answers, puzzled. They stare at each other for a minute like a pair of donkeys, one too stubborn to move and the other too stoic to notice it has any fault in it.
In the end it is Nishiki whose eyes shift somewhere else to a corner in the room, giving up with a sigh and raising his voice to change the topic. He points at a rolled-up piece of bedding that takes up a significant part of the small living area. A memory flashes up in his mind. “Hey, didn’t we use to share that futon whenever I was sleeping over at your place back in the day? You never had enough space for two futons.”
“Uh, yes,” his sworn brother confirms without hesitation, confused, since it hasn’t even been that long time ago for him to possibly forget about it.
“Think we would still fit in there?” Nishiki jokes as casually as possible, careful not to make it sound like an actual suggestion. In the back of his head, a small Nishiki voice is still whining about how it is too cold outside to go home right now, dressed in nothing but his usual suit attire. Wasn’t there even snowfall announced earlier today?
Thinking for a second, Kiryu snorts. “Heh, why not. It is quite spacious actually, in case you don’t remember.”
“Ah, I don’t,” Nishiki lies, since he knows Kiryu won’t question his “foggy memory”. His heartbeat quickens a bit when he notices that his feet are still planted into the flooring with no intention to move, and so far, there is no protest. Yes, he weighs the option in his mind, whether he’s overstepping a line. However, in his very clear memory, the last time he has spent the night over at Kiryu’s has been more than three years ago.
It is not like they have grown further apart during these three years, and that Nishiki is suddenly not welcome anymore, but until now there has never really been a reason for Nishiki to not sleep at his own place, in his own bed, like a grown-up, independent man. Just how it is with siblings: eventually, each gets their own room, their own house, their own individual life. Anything else at this point would make things … awkward.
And clearly, they are still best friends, nothing has changed in that regard. What they cannot control though, is the fact that they are now two valued members of the Dojima family with a reputation to uphold, each trying to fight their way through the murky bed of mediocre low-ranks and up to the top. So, apart from their shared family ties and their Friday night ventures, life has just been too eventful for them to stick together for more than a few hours a week.
“Hey, Nishiki, why don’t you sleep over at my place? It’s getting late, and you won’t have to worry about getting home tonight.” The unconcerned, warm and very reasonable voice of his sworn brother reaches him through the storm of his swirling thoughts, lifting him out of his head and placing him down gently where he is standing just a few feet away from Kiryu in the real world.
“What?” the air leaves his lungs in a surprised exclamation.
“Like old times: we can share the sleeping mat, if you don’t mind. It is big enough for two people.”
Nishiki bores into Kiryu’s face with his sharp eyes, digging for any sense of doubt or hesitation in his straight-faced, albeit gentle expression. As expected, Kiryu reads like an open invitation, his low and deep voice helping to make Nishiki feel safe and welcomed. Nothing has changed.
With a slow nod and a shrug, he catches himself agreeing while at the same time hiding the flood of tingling warmth that overcomes him.
They lie on the soft mattress with their backs to each other: The colorless scales of the koi fish against the monotone outlines of the dragon. The moon is hidden behind the falling snowflakes, but a yellow streetlight swathes them in a soft orange glow.
It is not as comfortable as he remembers or thinks to remember; the floor is persistently digging into his shoulder and the smell of alcohol still lingers in the air. The warmth against his unprotected back, however, makes up for it more than enough.
The gentle rumbling of the air conditioning is soothing to Nishiki and lulls him into a half slumber. He assumes that Kiryu is immediately out like a rock, but the telling signs of snoring fail to appear.
Nishiki would like to enjoy this peaceful and admittedly intimate moment as a proof of their unwavering friendship. As far as he knows, he is the only person Kiryu allows to stay this close to him without giving it a second thought. And the beautiful part of it is, he feels exactly the same.
At the same time, he thinks it should scare him.
Nishiki knows it, and he can’t completely ignore it either.
In reality, being this close to another person, trusting him so completely, it is a bright red warning sign to a man who calls himself a member of the criminal underworld. In not any version of a future reality, there is the firm guarantee that they are going to come out on top unscathed, or even together. He knows very well that Kiryu is just that bit tougher than him, just that bit more courageous. He really is like a dragon.
Nishiki wills his thoughts to stop straying into that direction. He inches just a little bit closer to the tattoo on Kiryu’s back, almost close enough to sense it, and breathes out slowly, feeling his own resolve harden. His friend shifts a little on top of the single mattress in return, settling into a more comfortable position before pulling the blanket towards his chest so that it wraps around them neatly and letting out a small sigh.
It is almost like they are transported back to their childhood, at the Sunflower Orphanage. Wrapped into a safe cocoon of oblivious dreams and hopes, fueled by the ambitious imagination of two young boys. Their thoughts have matured, their bodies as well, but the rest is still the same.
A bond as strong as theirs is like a double-edged sword: separation would be fatal, their dependance on each other might as well be their weak point. Who is going to break first, the koi, or the dragon? However, with Kiryu protecting his back, he is not afraid of what awaits them at the top of the pond and the enemies they will ultimately make. As long as they have each other, he thinks just before passing out, it is enough reason for him to go through hell and back.