Work Text:
Nishiki knew the date Kiryu would be released from prison. It was impossible for him not to. It burned into his mind the moment he heard it, and no amount of time or effort to distance himself from its importance could release him. Glancing at a date in the newspaper or on his watch became an unwilling calculation of how much time remained before the barrier between them lifted. Only so much time left before Kiryu’s existence grew from a nagging bother to a digging in his chest, a buzzing in his ears. The more often he did the math, the quicker it came to him, until toward the end of the long ten years, it became so natural he hardly noticed. There were times only a few years in, where in a stab of acidity, came the hope that the sentence might be extended. The longer, the better. Perhaps for life, or at least long enough that he would be released only after Nishiki was already dead. For a while, it was immediately followed by a guilt that he drowned mercilessly. The part of him that still ached thrashed and kicked and spluttered for air. But the rest of him, the better part of him, only got stronger. Eventually that doomed part of his heart finally grew weak, relented, and died.
It was an unfortunate that his plans with the Omi Alliance and a rat named Jingu would culminate so closely to that date. But there was nothing for it. He would just have to tolerate the buzzing of Kiryu’s presence in Kamurocho and get things done. He had been tempted to hurry plans along, pushing the players to move in an attempt to wrap things up before Kiryu became a player himself. But ten years as a patriarch had taught him the strategy, and rushing was not part of it. Besides, he was better now. Competent. He could handle a little bit of buzzing.
However, as it turned out, Nishiki had gravely underestimated just how much noise Kiryu would make. Prison had slowed him down, but not by much. The instant the barred doors opened, he snaked his way through the streets and into every cog and gear that Nishiki had painstakingly assembled. Nishiki walked around with flies in his ears that drowned out every sound he was meant to be paying close attention to. Perhaps his subordinates noticed this as well. As soon as Kiryu became an issue, they stopped listening to him. He ordered deaths and yet targets kept walking. He ordered restraint and suddenly everyone was a trigger happy idiot. No one could even manage to catch a single little girl that wandered through their thickest territory. Kiryu was a walking billboard of where she was at all times, and even Majima’s men, who had no stake in the matter in the first place, had secured her and let her go in the span of an afternoon. It was infuriating. And all the time, the buzzing grew louder and louder until it drowned out every damn thought in his head.
At the top of Millennium Tower, in front of a vault that would not open, with every one of his veneer dreams just inside, it all went quiet. All the attention he had spent holding his plans together dropped away. Kiryu, Yumi, and that little girl he had spent blood to capture but never bothered to learn her name, stood in front of him. He gave them explanations that had been true once. But not anymore. The fuel that had driven him was long since hollow, but he kept burning for the sake of it. After all, he had nowhere else to go. Nothing left to burn but himself.
That was one thing Kiryu had that no one else did. Something endless in him. Whatever furnace kept him going never ran out, no matter the amount of water dumped inside. Not even Kazama’s death stopped him, or Reina’s, or his own brother’s. It was like he could pull from the heat that turned the planet. He said he understood Nishiki’s pain, the loss of everyone close to him. Maybe he did, but somehow he was still able to just keep going. All the years apart had made Nishiki forget that about him. He had forgotten why he had once been so happy to be considered Kiryu’s brother. Why he was so proud when Kiryu was given, of all things, a dragon. Why, when he looked at Kiryu, he had once been filled with so much hope.
Nishiki came to on the glimmering marble floor of the Millennium Tower, still cold on his bruised skin. Distantly, he could hear Yumi’s voice. He tried to haul himself onto his elbows, but he could barely feel his muscles. They were cold and useless, and he fell back the short distance to the floor. Vaguely, he became aware of stabbing pains in his side that made it difficult to breathe, and the swirling in his head began to sharpen. Yumi’s voice was getting clearer, even as her tone grew softer, more tender. With a few shuddering breaths to gather himself, Nishiki rolled onto his side and pushed against the floor. The pain in his head ballooned and his arms trembled, but finally he managed to balance into a sitting position.
With shallow, stabbing pants, he glanced up to see Yumi craning up, where she and Kiryu shared a kiss. Nishiki turned his back to them. Maybe it was because his head was still swirling, or because he had been lying to himself the whole time, but the sight didn’t enrage like he’d imagined it would. It smarted, but only in the way a branch did when the person ahead of you who had been holding it back lets it loose in your face. He didn’t have nearly the energy to dwell on it. Instead, he reached to his face and blew a clot of blood out of his nose. His side still shooting with pain, he glanced at his hands and arms, where cuts and fresh bruises were beginning to bloom red. His knuckles were bloody and sore enough to complain when he tried to flex his hands. And they wouldn’t stop trembling.
With a sharp sigh, he dropped his hands and stared through the windowed walls of the tower. The lights of Kamurocho glittered below. Some muffled thought came to him, that for just a moment, it was all within his reach. But the rage that should have washed over him barely registered, and quickly faded.
Yumi was still talking. Still her voice didn’t rouse him, even when he registered what she was saying. The vault opening, and the bomb in her briefcase beeping to life. He didn’t even turn to look. He wondered how he would get down, once Yumi, Kiryu, and that little girl left. If he should bother gathering his coat or hiding his injuries. Not that it mattered whether his subordinates saw him in such a state. The jig was up. It was all over. Besides, he had lost to the Dragon of Dogima. There wasn’t much anyone could do about that.
Nishiki closed his eyes to the light of Kamurocho. And in that darkness, he found a part of him he thought was long dead. The ache in his heart rose from the waters he had drowned it in. Now he was too weak to push it back down, and he didn’t bother trying. He took a long, unsteady breath.
“Yuko…”
“Hello, Akira.”
He hadn’t been expecting any answer, but the voice in his head didn’t surprise or disturb him. It might have only been his imagination, but the sound of a smile he hadn’t seen in so long was a comfort too welcoming to ignore.
“I’ve been a terrible brother, haven’t I?”
“Yeah. A stupid one, too. What were you thinking, huh?”
Nishiki huffed something between a scoff and a laugh. “… Is it over?”
“That depends on you. I think you know the answer, though. … What will you do now?”
“I don’t know. There’s no way the Tojo will let me leave alive. After all I’ve done… I can’t go back.”
“You don’t have to, you know. You are in control of what happens to you now.”
Nishiki didn’t answer for a long while.
“… I’d like to see you again.”
He couldn’t see Yuko, but he could almost feel her standing just in reach, and the image of her smile warmed him.
“You will. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Before he could answer her, the sound of a gunshot blew through his still throbbing head. He whipped around, making his vision spin, but among the swirling images of Kiryu on the ground and the girl hovering over him, he managed to make out the form of Jingu, pointing a gun. Somewhere deep inside him, the fire Nishiki thought was lost suddenly roared back to life. He braced himself on one leg, but he could still barely feel it, and he buckled. He gritted his teeth to the sound of the rat’s cackling and forced himself back up, the muscles of his arms and legs melting underneath his skin. He hobbled as quickly as he could to his coat, strewn on the floor, and reached inside for a holster sewn into the side.
Just as he found it, another shot rang through the room. Nishiki spun again, this time to see Jingu’s gun buried in Yumi’s stomach. Kiryu and the girl cried out at once, catching Yumi as she fell back, her shirt soaking up blood. Nishiki tried to as well, stumbling forward on his knees, but nothing came out. Breathing hard, he clutched at the holster again, yanking out a wicked knife.
When Nishiki stood, he could barely feel the pain in his side, or his face, or his legs. This time when he moved, his strides were steady. Jingu had his gun at Kiryu’s head. But cradling Yumi’s limp and bleeding body, Kiryu didn’t move away from it. Absently, Nishiki couldn’t help but notice that now of all times, out of all the deaths he had seen, this was the one that seemed to stop him. In all the time they’d known each other, Nishiki had never seen Kiryu so miserable.
Nishiki roared and crashed into Jingu, burying the knife in his gut. He pushed it as deep as it would go, feeling the stuttering of flesh giving way, and kept pushing until the rat had fallen into the pile of money behind him. Only then, standing up, did he notice a new singing pain in his own stomach. He tried to breathe and felt fresh blood run down his skin.
He choked. “No way I’m letting this asshole… get away with it...”
“Nishiki!”
Kiryu cried out somewhere behind him, but he barely heard it. His heart was wild and calm all at once. He knew exactly what to do and that he needed to do it now, before Kiryu or his own weakness stopped him. Wavering on his feet, he glanced around for Jingu’s gun and picked it up. The pain was staring to melt away, as if it knew what he was going to do, and was loosening its grip to hand him over to fate. He lifted the gun toward Yumi’s bomb.
“The responsibility is mine,” he said, his voice coming back to him. “So let me do this.”
Kiryu was crying out, begging, but his voice didn’t reach him. Nishiki’s certainty only hardened. All the aching that had pulled at his heart in so many different directions for so long suddenly dropped away. He smiled, and pulled the trigger.
-----
Nishiki was surrounded by white and black, and neither all at once. He had the vague sensation of moving forward, but no idea if he was walking. With resistance as if he were underwater, he looked around. Not too far ahead, a form was coming into view. It was the same color as the emptiness around him, but somehow also different. As he approached, the spacey underwater feeling came into focus.
Yuko stood, leaning against a railing. He smiled.
“Hello, Yuko.”
She turned to look at him over her shoulder, but this time her expression wasn’t welcoming. Her eyes had a hardness to it that normally would have had him on edge. But now, he was too at peace to care. Still smiling softly, he leaned on the rail next to her and looked out to the emptiness in front of them. There was no wind, but he could feel his hair flowing slowly around his jaw. With a quiet huff, she spoke.
“This isn’t what I meant.”
“I know.”
“Out of everything you could have chosen, this is what you pick?”
“Ahh,” Nishiki said, incredulous. “I didn’t have so many options. I was dead either way.”
“But you didn’t even try?”
He didn’t answer her.
“I would have tried, at least. I did try. I tried so hard for so long, and it meant nothing. I would have killed for even one other choice.”
Nishiki wasn’t smiling anymore.
“I know…. Yuko, I--” Dimly, he became aware that he wasn’t breathing, but his voice caught all the same. “I’m sorry, Yuko, if I could have done anything different--”
“Stop,” she interrupted. Her expression was hard and holding back tears, but not directed at him. She took a long moment, and spoke again.
“I don’t blame you, Akira. I know you did everything in your power to help me. I wish I had the choice… to live… but I didn’t. There’s nothing we can do about it now. You still have one, though. And this time, you don’t have to make a choice for my sake, or anyone else’s. You can do it for yourself.” She took a deep breath. “It’s true you can’t go back. Not to two years ago, or five years, or ten… But the world is bigger than Kamurocho and the Tojo. You can go anywhere, and do anything you could ever want. You sure have the money for it now.”
Nishiki’s brow furrowed. “… How do you expect me to do any of that if this has been my whole life?”
Yuko looked back at him, and this time her eyes were sparkling. “Start from the bottom. Everyone starts there at some point. There’s nothing wrong with beginning again, even an old fart like you. And,” she nudged him. “Play to your strengths. You’re easy to like when you’re not blowing heads off.”
He groaned, waving his hand dismissively. He rubbed his fingers together, wishing there was a cigarette there. He paused.
“… I wish you could see it.”
“Me too.”
“I don’t want to leave.”
She straightened off the railing, and took a few steps away from it. He turned after her.
“I know. But you have to. It’s going to be hard to believe, but there are still people who love you and want to see you alive. If you do nothing else, face yourself head on and make yourself someone you can be proud of again.”
Nishiki stared at his feet. “I still don’t know what to do after this.”
Yuko shrugged, approaching him. “Copy something you see on TV, or a book. Maybe start a business. Do anything, and you’ll find yourself again eventually.” She put a hand on his chest, her touch hardly there. “First, though, you might want to start by learning how to walk again.”
“Huh?”
She pushed on him and before he could notice and resist, he fell back, past where the railing should have been, and plunged into the emptiness below, as if falling from a roof. Yet somehow, he could hear Yuko’s voice and feel her smile as if she were still beside him. At the same time, the sound of fire grew from a distant crackle to a roaring in his ears.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” she said warmly. “And this time, take a while.”
-----
Nishiki came to again, to the fire blazing close by. His head lolled against his chest as someone hauled him across the ground by his arms. He blinked, his vision too blurry to make out anything but the black of rubble and soot. At some point, whoever was dragging him let go, and his head thunked against the floor. A figure stood over him, saying something he couldn’t make out. They shook him by the shoulder, and with a sharp ringing piercing his head, sensations started to flood back to him. Whatever pain he felt after the fight with Kiryu seemed like nothing to him now. He tried to take in a sharp breath, and instead was rattled by coughing that felt like his lungs and throat were tearing apart. He wheezed pitifully and tried to move, but his limbs barely responded. What little movement he managed made his skin feel as if it were peeling off of the flesh- if it was still there at all.
“Nishiki!”
He was finally able to make out what the figure above him was shouting. The voice- Kiryu- Kiryu’s voice- was telling him to stop moving, to stay awake. There was something in his tone- fear? He hardly had the presence of mind to think about it. Through the agony of laying there, he noticed that he was losing feeling in parts of his body. Far from relieved, he knew well enough that he was quickly running out of time. He had- He had to find- Where was-
He turned his head as quickly as his body would allow. Yumi was lying next to him, eyes closed and breathing shallowly. Through his blurry vision, he could see that part of her hair and bloody shirt were burned, and one of her arms was beet red. His head was swimming, and he tried to speak before falling back out of the world.
“I… I’m-” he wheezed. His voice gurgled. “I’m sorry…”
His vision went black.
-----
Nishiki did not have very many visitors in the hospital, of course. Least of all Yumi. Not only was she recovering herself, but after everything he had done to her and her daughter Haruka, he didn’t blame her for not wanting to go near him. She had avoided him for ten years, and would not decide differently now.
He also did not receive any visits from anyone in the Tojo. He was plenty glad of that. If anyone did come in person, no doubt it would be to kill him. At one point early in his stay, he received an extravagant bouquet of flowers with nothing for a note but the Nishikiyama Family crest. He wasn’t sure if it was a genuine show of good will or a threat.
Not even Kiryu visited for quite some time. Which was just as well. The combination of skin grafts and bandages made it impossible to talk. At least when Kiryu did come in person, he could speak to him properly.
“Fourth chairman, huh…?”
Kiryu nodded silently. He stood next to the wall, a distance away. When he had first arrived, his efforts not to stare were obvious. But in typical Kiryu fashion, he adjusted quickly, and afforded Nishiki the courtesy of not remarking on his appearance.
Nishiki closed his eye and leaned his head back against the hospital pillow. He mulled the idea over in his head, of Kiryu in the Chairman seat. After a few moments, couldn’t help but laugh in a thin, wheezing voice. It crumbled quickly into coughing, and he swallowed to get control of himself again. No wonder no one had visited to kill him, no doubt Kiryu had pardoned him.
To think, the whole time Nishiki was scrambling for power, Kiryu had it all laid out for him. And if he hadn’t been so obsessed with separating himself from Kiryu, he would have had his own power secured in kind.
Plus, Kiryu looked very awkward in that seat.
“You shouldn’t be talking,” Kiryu said flatly. Nishiki couldn’t tell if he was bitterly polite, or genuinely concerned. After ten years apart from him, and twisting the image of him in his head, Nishiki had lost the ability to understand him very well.
“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it,” Nishiki rasped. “To talk?”
Kiryu looked down. There was a long silence.
“Why didn’t you write to me in prison?”
Nishiki laughed again, and nearly choked. “Because I hated you.” He swallowed, and between stuttering breaths, continued. “Everyone I loved left or died and I was helpless and ashamed. I couldn’t take a step in any direction without being blamed for it all. It poisoned me, and I let it happen.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Kiryu said sternly. Nishiki stared at the ceiling. Of course Kiryu already knew that. He already knew what it was like to be alone. And Nishiki had done it to him. That wasn’t what he was asking.
Nishiki spoke quietly this time. His voice wavered, but one of the things he had learned best was control.
“… In ‘88, when I said I was nothing without you, I was telling the truth. When you were gone, everything fell apart. Yumi left and I couldn’t protect her. Kazama barely spoke to me. I was entrusted with a family of my own, and nothing went right. Yuko’s condition got worse and I betrayed Kashiwagi in my desperation to fix it. And I still failed. I couldn’t… I didn’t write to you because I had nothing to report that would… that would make you proud of me. I tried to write many times, but it was all trash. I was scared that you would finally see me for who I was and that you would leave me, too. Not just for ten years. So… I convinced myself it would be better to disappear to atone for my failures. To do something honorable with myself so at least my memory would be worth preserving. And I failed at that, too.” He paused. “I didn’t want you see what your- What I had become.”
“I never thought less of you, Nishiki. In all that time, I thought there was nothing you could do to make me think that.”
Nishiki scoffed. “I sure proved you wrong, didn’t I?”
Kiryu was quiet for a time, brow furrowed in thought.
“Do you still plan on trying? To make me proud?”
Nishiki blinked at the ceiling.
“In the Tojo? No. I will never be able to show my face again, even if I wanted to. Not even with the Fourth Chairman’s protection. Not after what I did.”
“Then what will you do now?”
He gave a half shrug, looking out the window. Outside, the drab city buildings blended together in a sprawling expanse in the afternoon sun, dotted only by a tree here and there. But even as bland as it was, in the moment, from the hospital bed it looked full of possibility. He wondered if Yuko had looked at a view like this with so much hope.
“Anything. Perhaps this time I’ll have something to write about.”
Kiryu didn’t respond, but took the few steps from the wall where he stood toward the bed.
“Here.” In his hand was a letter and a small white box. Nishiki took them with his shaking hand.
The letter was on thick paper, formally folded and sealed with the Tojo Clan crest. There was no doubt in his mind it was a letter of expulsion. He stared at it without opening the seal. Inside was everything he had feared and spent lives trying to prevent for the better part of two decades, and a kindness from Kiryu he never expected. He set it aside.
The lid of the white box was embossed, but he couldn’t quite make out the design. Opening it revealed a black patch of fabric, stamped with a simple but elegant design of a koi swimming in calm water. Lifting it out of the box, there were straps attached. Nishiki grinned, almost bitterly, when he realized who it was from. He checked the lid again, and this time made out a snake weaving its way across the top.
Nishiki scoffed. “He never did have a sense of taste.”
“That’s Majima for you.”
“Why did he send this? Is it a threat or something?” He and Majima had never been on good terms, and he couldn’t imagine that would have changed during his time the hospital.
“Majima only respects strength. This is probably his acknowledgment of what you managed to do.”
Nishiki put the eye patch back into the box, careful not to wrinkle it. “Acknowledgment from Majima is hardly a good thing. I might very well be marked for death regardless of what you order, Fourth Chairman.”
“I’ll make sure he stays in line.”
“If there’s anyone he truly respects, its you.”
The empty space of the word “brother” hung painfully in the air. Neither of them filled it.
“You had better get back to your duties, Fourth Chairman,” Nishiki said solemnly. “They’ll be wondering why you bother spending so much time with a traitor.”
Kiryu paused again.
“Promise me one thing, Nishiki.”
“Hm?”
“Whatever problems you encounter from here on out, swear that you will keep facing them head on. Make me proud to have known you. Never slow down, and keep moving forward.”
Looking up at the dragon he once could call brother, Nishiki half smiled.
“I swear. And I hope you’ll never have to hear my name again.”
Kiryu’s jaw tightened. But he didn’t say anything, and headed back out the door. Nishiki watched it close, as if trying to memorize the last look of Kiryu he would get for the foreseeable future. In the quiet of the room, he picked up the box from Majima again, and took the eye patch back out. He lifted it over his head, ignoring the tightness of his skin and the stitches holding it together, trying to get a good look at it in the light. From somewhere deep in his chest, humor bubbled out in a chuckle.
“It’s so tacky...”