Archive of Our Own ^beta

The car came into Nishiki’s life with its own bundle of reasons.

Maintaining the image of a flashy, prosperous yakuza was the main contributor for the brand and the expensive model, but the more substantial reason as to why he got the car in the first place wasn’t just a matter of showing off wealth – he needed it for commuting and work, among other things.

Sure, he could’ve bought a cheaper car if that was all it was for – he could’ve gotten one he wouldn’t have needed to save up months for – but he was too critical of appearances to settle for something that didn’t practically scream money - that's what mattered the most in their line of business. It made him look good, and it was also an asset when it came to work – being able to get behind the wheel fast at any time or being ready to drive far whenever needed was appreciated by the superiors.

Awano’s boys always needed to be driven around from one job to another, and Kuze would occasionally send him on dull courier jobs. Shibusawa had made him fetch some VIPs from airports and hotels before, for business meetings and whatnot. A few times he’d driven the lieutenant themselves, from the office to restaurants and bars and whatnot.

While taking on occasional driver jobs might not have gained him many favors, it had let him in on convenient family intel now and then, had positioned him closer to their bosses and had thus enabled him to witness sides to the yakuza life that Kiryu didn’t, for better and worse; but that’s how it is, when you’re at the bottom of the ladder.

Having the car always available made it easier for Nishiki to plan things with Yuko too – they’d drive around and drop by the Sunflower to visit the kids and the caretakers, or they’d hit the city, occasionally inviting Yumi and Kiryu along so they’d all go out to eat together.

It was convenient and it was good for his image.

He’d gotten his license through legitimate ways the moment he’d turned 18, a year into the family. He had shown off the brand-new little plastic card to Kiryu with a glint in his eye the moment he’d gotten a hold of it, stupidly proud.

The photo on it wasn’t the most flattering one, with the photographer sternly demanding him to push his bangs off his face, but for once he couldn’t care, because with it he had gotten one step closer to having something of his own. It’d been a big deal for him.

Initially he had only driven the family cars for few months, Awano tossing the keys of a freshly polished Nissan President at him the first time he’d walked into the office after getting his license, asking him to take it for a spin, clearly testing his skills and nerves.

All the family cars were well taken care of and expensive, and thus the mere thought of accidentally scratching them would make most of the rookies break out in cold sweat – as it did for Nishiki, a mere year into the family, but it didn’t take Nishiki too long to learn to relax behind the wheel, to learn to enjoy the feeling of it.

His new car – the car – was a recent development, but before it he’d owned a different one for a year or so.

Once he’d saved up enough, he’d gotten a shitty two-seater, temporarily settling on the cheapest thing he could find until he got enough money to get the car he actually wanted – but the damn thing he’d bought could barely even be called a car.

It was his own fault really, for not being more thorough with checking the quality of the car before the money had changed hands. The longer he owned the car, the more faults he found.

The first and probably most annoying problem was that the passenger door was completely jammed for some inexplicable reason, and every time picked someone up, he would always have to either get out of the car himself to let the passenger crawl into the car through the driver’s seat and over the center console, or have them just crawl in over his lap – this was funny for the women who were just as broke as he was, who were also just looking to kill time, but it was incredibly embarrassing with anyone he wanted to impress.

He’d had Kiryu climb over his lap a few times too, when he was too lazy to get out of the seat, but trying to squeeze two big guys in the narrow space between the car seat and the steering wheel had resulted in Nishiki getting kneed in the dick and he’d decided then and there that they were not doing that ever again.

He’d shoved Kiryu for it, because it fucking hurt, which made Kiryu lose his balance and lean on the steering wheel for support, making him blare the car honk for at least solid five seconds before getting his arm off of it, waking up half of the neighborhood with it. One of Kiryu’s elderly neighbors had come out to the street to yell at them, only to see them in a very compromising position and had started yelling at them over something completely different than a noise complaint. After that incredibly… awkward exchange Nishiki always took the bothersome extra step of first getting out of the car himself, before letting Kiryu in.  

Unfortunately, the stupid door wasn’t the only problem: the sound system was shitty, only the left side speaker worked, while the right one only rattled from the bass – maybe this actually counted as a door problem, too.

Eventually the jammed door was unjammed by an extremely drunk Kiryu, who had foolishly approached the car like one would a taxi or any other normal car, and the door had let out a metallic whine from the applied brute force.

At first, they had been happy – the damn thing actually opened – but then it became very apparent very fast that the door couldn’t be shut properly anymore, the lock having broken from the pull. Kiryu had to hold the door closed the whole drive home, and then again when they drove to the city to hit Don Quijote – the final four months the door was held shut by tape and several zip-ties – a cold breeze could be heard and felt through the gaps no matter how tight they were fasted.

The AC started causing problems a few months in, the leather was full of scratches and the gear stick would get stuck whenever you shifted it from four to five, requiring a generous, forceful shove each time it started jamming. Nishiki hated the damn car, but it got him to the office and back, made it possible for him to drive Yuko around without having to waste time and money arranging taxis, let him and Kiryu waste nights just driving around, so he grit his teeth and pretended to not hear the way the plastic of the door trembled under the bass of the dance songs it was playing from the radio.  

To sum it up – it was a shit car, but it was his car. He bought it used, just as beaten and bruised as the hand-me-downs they’d had at the orphanage had been, but even so, in the papers there had been his name. The shitty apartment he rented was just that – a rental, but this piece of shit metal scrap was his piece of shit metal scrap, and that’d been enough for him.

He’d gotten stupid comments about it from a few members of the clan who had happened to peek inside and had seen the zipties and the tape, or who had seen Kiryu clumsily crawl over the center console when he didn’t feel like getting a taxi. Maybe the car had occasionally made Nishiki feel laughed at and little humiliated by idiots who outranked them, but those guys didn’t know shit – they didn’t know where they came from, not the ugly details of it.

The car was shitty alright, and Kiryu made annoying complaining grunts whenever he struggled to get his legs from the driver side to the passenger side, and Nishiki pushed his ass whenever he was taking too long with it, but with little money put into a gas pump and a bill paid here and there, they were suddenly adults, with things to call their own.

Kiryu understood the significance of it more than anyone else, of finally having something to your name, so despite occasionally having to smack the broken speaker, or cursing the zip tied door, he never once made Nishiki feel ashamed about the car.

They came from the same roots; a shit car was an unbelievably great improvement from having nothing at all – from spending their childhood having to take turns pedaling the same bike with a chronic flat tire (which no tape or glue ever lasted long enough to keep the air in) because the orphanage didn’t have the funds for anything non-essential.

It was better than nothing, but they had always been greedy kids with big dreams – Nishiki knew the car was bad for the look and made him look piss-poor in comparison to the cars the men of the family drove around, completely different in feeling to the sleek Toyota Crown that Kuze had him drive for work.

The family cars were all nice to drive, of which many had made him consider getting one of the same models for himself, but he’d eventually set his eyes on a luxury Vonta in one of his magazines, a 2.8-litre luxurious beauty – which price tag was completely out of his budget, even when bought used. Even so, he’d made up his mind about it.

He wasn’t interested in getting a custom paintjob for it, but he had gotten the newest 5-set cassette and car stereo installed right from the get-go. The car phone and the spoiler were installed a little later: the sleek look of the car gave him a new, foreign kind of satisfaction, while the phone was a necessity for work.

He didn’t want to take a shady loan for it, only ever having seen the negative consequences and none of the benefits of them, so he’d picked up part time jobs where he could to save up, accepting whatever shady work his face and sweet talk could get him where his lack of resume couldn’t.

He’d been good enough at sweet talking to pick up a job here and here: off-the-books shifts as a bouncer-slash-staff at a puny cabaret club, heavy manual labor at construction sites with no actual qualifications for it, bit of this and that. He’d worked in the kitchen of a restaurant for a few months, then at a construction site for another few, took on a dishwasher job for the weekends at a club not too far from his apartment.

Once the jobs he’d organized for himself within the family had begun to bear fruit, lining his own pockets became easier and he could quit doing part-time jobs on the side, gathering the rest of the cash bit by bit from doing collections and protection jobs. Sometimes he’d work for the clubs under the family’s protection, helping them scout and hire new hostesses – few of whom were the very same broke girls who’d crawled over his lap to get into the passenger seat.

To make it in the big city, connections were crucial – this was known by everyone who spent long enough in Kamurocho. It was good to know people, be known by them.

Even if none of those girls stuck around in the business anymore as far as Nishiki knows, many of them had made a decent paycheck in their time at the clubs. Hostess work was often a springboard for these girls, to get used to the city, to make enough money so they could look for different jobs. They were probably better off by now, too. Unfortunately, though, that meant that none of them got a chance to get into Nishiki’s car through a door that actually opens.

It took Nishiki a while to get the 6 million yen together, but when he did, he paid for the car in one fell swoop. It was by far the most expensive thing he had ever purchased – it made him feel almost greedy, in a good way.

With the new car sucking his wallet dry he hadn’t had much chances to go out and splurge for a while, so on a whim Nishiki decides to page Kiryu, asking him where he is, and if he’s free for the day. It’s hot, way too humid for him to comfortably loiter around in his apartment or the office, so the quick reply that Kiryu gives him makes Nishiki grab his keys and head out.

When Nishiki parks in front of Kiryu’s apartment and pages him, the man suddenly takes his sweet time with the reply. Kiryu knows he’s driving over so instead of waiting longer, or climbing up the stairs to the front door, Nishiki just crudely blares the honk.

Nishiki hits the car honk two times before the door to Kiryu’s apartment swings open, revealing a rather annoyed looking Kiryu, but who clearly is not in any rush. The heat is clearly getting to him, too.

Any incoming complaints about disturbance that’s caused by the short, yet annoying noise are quickly shut down by the sight of the pin on his lapel, making any annoyed neighbors turn their heads, and there’s still a small kind of satisfaction to that.

“Yo, kyodai” Nishiki gets up from the car to greet the man, watching as the irritation melts off his features as his eyes land on the black paint of the unfamiliar ride. Nishiki leans his hip against the side of the car, hand on the hood and a smug smile on his face “Nice, isn’t it? I’d love to tell you all about the details of this beauty, but I know you’d just zone me out”

Kiryu’s eyes briefly flicker to him before he looks at the car again, ignoring the jab completely “This is yours?”

Nishiki gives the metal a light smack, with an obviously proud smile on his face “My very own – fully paid off and everything.”

Kiryu might not care too much about cars or the finer things, but he can tell it’s an expensive car.

He can’t tell if it’s cheaper or more expensive than the cars the men in the family drive, but it doesn’t feel too different from what Kashiwagi drives, where when the few times they’d sat in the backseats as kids Kiryu had always noticed the scent of what must be expensive leather, and Kashiwagi’s glare in the rearview mirror when they smeared fingerprints on the windows. It is, very much, the car of an adult, and not that of an 18-year-old like the last one had been.

“How much did it cost you?” He asks, circling to look at the front, the metallic brand emblem catching light.

“6 million” There’s pride in his voice, like the hefty pricetag somehow makes the car more significant, and makes Nishiki himself bigger and more... Something, somehow. It’s about the image, again.

Kiryu doesn’t quite get it but doesn’t bother voicing his lack of real opinion on the matter either – who is he question how Nishiki uses his own money? He can’t deny that it’s a cool ass car, with no zip ties in sight.

“Does the passenger side door work?” He asks, which only makes Nishiki crack a toothy grin.

“Like a dream” He laughs, “there’s an actually functioning radio and an AC in this one, real luxury shit” he adds, tapping his fingers against the roof.

Kiryu lets out a low whistle, and the sound makes the corner of Nishiki’s lip tug even further up, little laughter bubbling out of him.

“Anyway, I was thinking of taking you for a ride, if you’re up for it” Nishiki suggests, having had enough of the bragging for the time being. He looks at Kiryu, sweating even in his summery outfit.

Kiryu had a sleeveless shirt and some old pants on, and Nishiki knew the guy had probably just pulled them on just to come out, and that he had probably been loitering around in his apartment in nothing but underwear. It’s an annoyingly hot day, and on hot days Kiryu’s apartment felt like an oven. They both hated it.

A hot car doesn’t sound too good to Kiryu, but an AC does. Nishiki has discarded his own jacket in the backseat of the car, and the fact that he’s able to loiter around in his black dress shirt and suit pants this comfortably tells Kiryu the AC is the real deal.

“Sure, I got nothing better to do” Kiryu agrees, running a hand over the back of his neck “I’ll go grab my pager”

“And change” Nishiki adds, nodding to the side.

He didn’t care what Kiryu wore to take his trash out, but they weren’t going to be hitting the corner shop next door – a sleeveless shirt just wasn’t classy, even if it looked good on Kiryu’s toned body.

“Bro, it’s way too hot for a suit” Kiryu argues, not interested in covering up any further – if anything, he’d like to just go shirtless.

“When did I ever say anything about a full suit? Just put on a thinner dress shirt, idiot. We’re still yakuza, you know. Try to look the part” Nishiki tilts his head, eyeing the edges of the dragon claws he can see peeking out from under the fabric.

Kiryu rolls his eyes but still turns to go back to his apartment. He doesn’t get few steps further before Nishiki calls out to him, voice slightly raised “While you’re at it, bring me a can if you have anything non-alcoholic in your fridge”

“I don’t” Kiryu replies, waving an arm to gesture disinterest in the new fetch quest.

Nishiki just shakes his head, having expected as much.

“Asshole”

When Kiryu comes back out, he’s changed into a bit better pair of pants and a white dress shirt that he’s shoved into his pants very half-assedly. He’s got a can in one hand, an unopened Savannah beer for himself, and a half-empty tea bottle in the other. He tosses the bottle to Nishiki, who catches it just in time between his palms. The liquid sloshes, but the cap is thankfully screwed on tight.

“Seriously? How old is this?” Nishiki shakes the bottle in his hand a little, while Kiryu just shrugs. The plastic is cool to touch, so at least it’s from the fridge.

“All I had, besides beer”

“That’s not hard to believe” Nishiki unscrews the bottle and takes a swig.

It’s not very good, stale from clearly having been open for little too long, but he’d eaten way worse things from Kiryu’s fridge and hadn’t died or gotten food poisoning yet. The gross taste lingers in his mouth, making him screw the cap back on. “Shit, that’s bad”

Kiryu pulls his own can open, quickly bringing the can to his lips to slurp the liquid that spills on the top of the can from the movement. It clearly tastes better.

“So, where are we going?” Kiryu asks, licking the little foam off his lips.

“There’s this record store I’ve been wanting to check out for a while, they’ve got this one new vinyl that Yuko’s been wanting to get – and actually give me a sip of that, I need to wash this shit taste away” Nishiki speaks, frowning as he reaches in to grab Kiryu’s beer from his hand, taking a gracious gulp of it under Kiryu’s judgmental gaze. Ever the stingy bastard.

“Aren’t there plenty record stores in Kamurocho too?” He asks, reaching for the can while Nishiki is wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, and few around it, but this record’s sold out in all shops in the town- it’s in high demand, apparently, since there’s a limited bonus included or something like that” He sighs, and it’s clear he’s been on the hunt for a while already. “Might be a few hours’ drive, you up for that?”

Kiryu hums, feeling the scorching heat of the sun against the bare skin of his neck. Nishiki’s company sounded nice. Airconditioning sounded very nice.

“Sure, as long as you’re driving”

Nishiki gives him a shove and a stupid comment before circling around back to the driver’s seat. Kiryu gets into the passenger seat, first reaching beneath the seat to pull it back to give himself more leg room, then reaching in to adjust the AC to cooler.

They roll off the sidewalk, and so their little road trip begins.

The sound system of the car is on a whole different level compared to the previous one, better from just the vibrations of the bass to the existence of the entire bass button itself. Everything about the car feels different, really.

It would’ve probably been more logical to get a still cheap yet decent car after the shitty car and work the way up from there – but Nishiki had really splurged here, and admittedly it’d paid off because you could feel it, even if you weren’t big on cars. It’s smoother on the road, overall way quieter, and the bumps in the road don’t hurt your ass when the car hits them. Kiryu knows he’ll be bumming a lot more rides from Nishiki from now on.

Nishiki had always been a good driver in Kiryu’s book – he’d been driving the family’s cars here and there, had successfully managed to keep the previous scrap metal on wheels moving despite it being all faults. Kiryu had always felt comfortable in the passenger seat, but the new car did have a new kind of charm to it.

They catch up with each other as they head towards their destination. Nishiki asks Kiryu to pass him the sunglasses from the glove box and to open up the map, giving him the name of the city they were headed to, as he’d never driven there before. He lifts the glasses to his face, thin frames that sit comfortably high on his nose, and he gives Kiryu a smirk when the sunlight hits his face, making him take the sun visor down, the shadow instantly easing the frown that had formed on his face.

Kiryu cranks the window down slightly, before he pulls his cigarette pack from his pocket. He takes one out, puts it between his lips, and hums at Nishiki to get his attention.

“Want one?” he asks, offering the pack.

Nishiki glances away from the road to see what’s being offered, then nods, Sure.

He lifts his right hand from his lap, wraps it around the steering wheel and frees the left one, offering it out as Kiryu pulls a cigarette out for him, slotting it between Nishiki’s forefinger and middle finger.

Kiryu reaches for a lighter out of his pocket, while Nishiki reaches in for the car cigarette lighter, pushing the handle into the socket. Kiryu observes the movement but knows that it takes a while for the thing to pop back out, so Kiryu just lights his own cigarette with his cheap lighter.

When it pops out Nishiki plugs it out, and presses the glowing coil against the tip of his cigarette. He puts the plastic handle back in its place and blows out the smoke. This too was another stupid and fancy gadget to Nishiki’s car, paid off with sweat and hard work.

“Show-off, much? That thing takes way too long” Kiryu says.

“What’s the rush? We’ve got all the time in the world” Nishiki smiles, almost smug.

 There’s a breeze coming in through the cracked window and it feels salty, but it doesn’t do much to relieve the heat of the summer. The heat clings to skin, sticky and hot against his face and back.

Kiryu turns the map in his hands, eyes trailing down the road he’d located them on, and then to a mass of blue that was slowly approaching from the side. “Ah, I think there’s a beach pretty close to here”

“Hm? Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kiryu says, “can’t really tell what kind it is from this map though”

Nishiki glances at him, a small smile spreading on his face.

“You wanna go check it out?”

Nishiki drives down a narrow unpaved road and they feel the ride turn rocky under the tires, ground louder until he stops right at the edge of where the muddy rockiness ends, and the dry rocky sand begins.

Nishiki grabs the keys from the ignition and drags his hand through his hair. It’s sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck uncomfortably, and a little dive is starting to sound more than just a little inviting. He pushes his door open and steps out of the car, leaving it wide-open behind him as he scopes the beach out.

Kiryu is still in the car when Nishiki circles around it and leans in, hand on the hood of the car, “It’s not too bad – might be a private one?”

“Might be”

Kiryu puts the folded map back into the glove compartment and Nishiki moves out of the way when Kiryu moves to put his legs out of the car.

There’s no one around to take offence anyway, so Nishiki’s expression shifts before he circles around the car to sit back on the driver’s seat, reaching down to take his shoes and socks off as he throws out the suggestion that’s lingering in both of their minds. “So, you up for a swim, Kyodai?”

Kiryu looks at him but doesn’t outright agree or reject the idea – so Nishiki just continues talking.

“We don’t have towels or anything, but I’m still going in” Nishiki says, pausing only when he catches Kiryu looking while he’s struggling his shirt off “Aren’t you coming?”

“I didn’t bring swimwear” Kiryu says, little hesitant.

Nishiki cracks him a smile “you think I did? This was your idea”

Checking the beach out had been his idea, sure, but he hadn’t really thought it through. Nishiki throws the shirt to the backseat where his jacket already is, before starting to fumble with his belt.

Kiryu decides to follow suit.

After getting his pants off, Nishiki contemplates between keeping his underwear on or not, but thinks that going commando in his suit pants in this kind of summer heat wouldn’t be the best idea. He doesn’t want to get them wet so he pulls them off and adds them to the clothing pile, closing the back door.

Kiryu gives him a look through the car, but Nishiki just raises a brow at him “What? Nothing you haven’t seen before.” Then he eyes at Kiryu, who’s still pulling his socks off “If you keep yours on you’ve got to toss them in the trunk when we leave - I don’t want my seats getting wet”

Kiryu frows. He could probably try to wring them dry, but then they’d probably stay damp, and that sounds rather un-inviting. Going fully naked didn’t sound completely inviting either – they had no idea if or when someone might drop by the beach and catch a glimpse of them, and he’d rarther not flash himself or his tattoo to any unfortunate passersby.

“What if someone comes here?”

“We’ll just kick their asses then” Nishiki states, lifting his hands up to do few lazy, shadowbox-like movements.

The mental image of that is enough to make Kiryu crack a smile, amused huff pushing through his nose.

Nishiki goes ahead, heading towards the water while Kiryu halts to watch his back, the way the koi curves along his back, down his frame all the way to the top of his thigh, wrapping around him.

“Are you coming or are you just going to stare at my ass the whole time?”

“I was looking at your tattoo” Kiryu replies, clicking his tongue.

“Yeah yeah” Nishiki’s smiling, a carefree one that’s contagious. He shows off his back purposefully, posing like a bodybuilder while glancing over his shoulder. “So, how’s it looking?”

Kiryu can’t help the smile that spreads on his lips, brow raising in amusement.

“Like it wants to go for a swim” He says before pulling his shirt off, diverting his eyes from the ink to his own belt as he begins unbuckling it.

“Ha-ha, bro. Funny” Nishiki replies, before stepping into the water.

Nishiki’s already in the water down to his hips by the time Kiryu has stripped of his clothing, only now dipping his toes in. He scowls, because it’s colder than he expected, and even though it’s a suffocatingly hot day, he feels reluctant to go any deeper—the heat of the sun on his back doesn’t make the water feel any less cold against his legs.

Nishiki has been overheating worse than he had- it’s the black dress shirt and the long hair, body stiff from driving for so long, so he welcomes the cold water with more ease.

Kiryu is more reluctant to go in deeper, contemplating which direction to step into when he feels a freezing splash come from ahead him, looking up to see Nishiki bent forward with his hands in water, looking up at him with the grin of a bastard up to no good.

“Don’t you dare” Kiryu warns him, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.

“Do what?” Nishiki’s eyes squint before he splashes again, harder this time.

“That!” Kiryu tries to dodge the water, unsuccessfully – the fast movement only makes the water he’s standing in splash worse.

“Oh, this?” Nishiki asks, but before he can splash again, Kiryu kicks at the water hard enough to throw a decent sized splash wave at Nishiki – only he doesn’t get the satisfaction from the wave because he gets splashed, again.

Kiryu doesn’t really want to get in deeper, but the stupid, childish splashing incites the desire for a very childish revenge, which quickly outweighs the discomfort of the cold water. He takes long, steady steps deeper into the water, to close the distance to Nishiki.

“You asked for it, Kyodai”

The water is still cold when it reaches his knees and doesn’t get any warmer when it’s all the way to his hips too. Nishiki tries to move backwards when he sees Kiryu coming, the stupid smile on his face never halting despite the clear threat, but he isn’t fast enough to save himself from the revenge. Kiryu splashes him, swipes his palm across the surface of the water to put Nishiki into a defensive position, before closing the distance completely.

Nishiki had initially meant to just do a quick dip in the water without getting his hair wet, but unsurprisingly they end up splashing and wrestling in the water like little kids, with Kiryu sweeping his leg from under him, submerging him completely in the water. He spits the salty water out when he breaks the surface of the water again, pushing his soaked hair away from his face.

Kiryu’s smug face pisses him off, clearly way too satisfied with himself, so Nishiki lunges straight into his midriff with such force that they both topple over, into the water.

It’s incredibly stupid and childish, even for them. They’re grown men, fearsome yakuza with a proper image to up-keep, but here they are, wrestling in waist deep water like they did when they were 10 and still at the Sunflower.

All the paddling, wrestling and splashing eventually starts to tire them both out, but Kiryu had always been stupidly stubborn, never knowing when to quit, so eventually Nishiki has to put his palms up to stop Kiryu from grabbing him, so he can catch his damn breath.

“Shit-” he gasps between heavy breaths, “Timeout, Kiryu” he calls, hair wet and flat against his face.

Instead of relaxing Kiryu bends his knees to take a position for lunging, clearly still challenging Nishiki. Just the sight makes Nishiki furrow his brow, knowing what’s coming -persistent bastard.

“Just a timeout? You sure? You’re pretty wiped out, bro” Kiryu teases, just as out of breath. He could still throw the guy a few times if needed to though, he had the strength left for it.

Nishiki reconsiders. He’d sparred with Kiryu enough times to know the guy had no restraint—he would absolutely go at it full steam until Nishiki admitted defeat, or until Nishiki got Kiryu to do the same.

Fighting in the water didn’t really hurt, and they hadn’t even been rough enough with each other to even really bruise properly, but the water made things twice more exhausting compared to their regular sparring at the gym, and Nishiki was supposed to get back behind the wheel after this.

Nishiki had gotten few good tackles in himself, had tired Kiryu out pretty good, but he knew Kiryu would go at this as long as he needed – he’d always been bit more of an adrenaline junkie, even if they both enjoyed fighting. Wasting all his energy here would be stupid of Nishiki, even if winning would give him great satisfaction.

“Let’s call it a tie?” Nishiki suggests, pushing his hair off his face and slicking it back with one hand, the other remaining still in the air between.

All it gets him is a challenging raised brow. Kiryu was looking for a win here, greedy bastard.

“You’re a sadist, you know that right?”  Nishiki accuses him, letting a snarl form on his face.

“You started it” Kiryu says, the smugness clear both in his voice and on his face.

Stuck in the standstill, they both have the time to stabilize their breathing, the adrenaline wearing off slow and steady, any itch to continue their tussling dissipating along with it. Nishiki sighs, deciding that the possible win was not worth having to drive home sore and unnecessarily exhausted.

“Fine, it’s your win” Nishiki admits defeat, letting his hand fall.

Only then does Kiryu straighten his posture out, a stupid tug at the corner of his lip growing as he does so.

Nishiki wants to splash him for it real good, slapping his arm over the surface of the water, but it comes out half-assed – not provoking enough for Kiryu to take it as a challenge.

“Sore loser”

“Shut up”

They bump shoulders together as they wade through the water, back to the beach, and back towards the car.

There's always comfortable lightness to the mood that these kinds of playful fights and sparring put them in.

This time too, they bask in it all the same.

“I feel like it’s been ages since we’ve been to the beach” Nishiki hums, cigarette hanging loosely from his lip as he lies on his back the sand, propped up on his elbows.

Kiryu hums back, sitting next to him, elbows on knees.  

“Yeah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Nishiki had fetched his cigarettes and a lighter from the car, had let Kiryu bum one off him.

The cold water helped them cool off, leaving them comfortable even under the warmth of the sun.

“that’s the only downside to the tattoos”

“That, and bath houses… I miss the place we used to go to”

“Right?” Nishiki agrees, “Maybe we should do a trip to a private onsen sometime when it gets little colder”

Kiryu agrees, blowing smoke to the side before glancing at Nishiki. “What do I get for my win?”

“Hm?”

“The fight- I should get a prize, right?” Kiryu says, lips stretching around the cigarette.

“You’re shameless, bro”

“Says the guy who demanded me to strip or go commando” Kiryu huffs, but the tone of the conversation stays playful.

“Well, what do you want?” Nishiki asks, plucking the cigarette from between his lips to exhale, “a kiss?” he suggests, in a teasing tone.

It’s clearly a jab, and not a serious suggestion. Kiryu still amuses it.

“I was thinking more on the line of you treating us dinner, but if we’re going down that route, I’ll have to give it more thought”

Nishiki snickers, huffing smoke out of his nose. “Dinner it is then– I’m hungry anyway, so pick us a place off the map and I’ll treat you anything” He smiles, “the greatest gas-station gourmet is on me”

__

They resume driving once they’re dry enough to dress up.

Kiryu reaches in to wipe the sand off Nishiki’s back at his request, going down in few rough, yet clean motions, from the shoulder blades down to the ass. Nishiki does the same back for him with rather sloppy gestures, slapping the cheek which the dragon’s tail wraps around with way too much force once he’s finished, which makes Kiryu glare draggers at him.

Kiryu tries to smack him back, but only really hits the outer side of Nishiki’s thigh – it lacks the satisfaction, but a second smack would result in retribution, and they really do have to get moving.

Once they’ve got most of the sand off, they pull on their clothing, and Nishiki just chuckles when Kiryu doesn’t bother putting on a shirt, sitting into the car with it still laying on the back seat.

“Did little skinny dipping really make you that exhibitionistic?” Nishiki comments, amused. Kiryu’s back is against the seat, so the tattoo isn’t that visible, but the toned body would surely catch the eyes of any oncoming traffic.

“Shut up, I’ll put it on in a bit” Kiryu adjusts himself in the seat, uncomfortable with the hot leather against his skin even when the car had been parked in shade. It’s not as much of a good idea as he had thought it’d be, but he decides to stubbornly stick to it. “it’d be too hot with a shirt on”

Nishiki backs the car away from the beach, and Kiryu opens up the map again, holding onto it firmly as it flaps in the breeze that’s coming in from the open windows.

The breeze is nice against his bare skin, and Nishiki just rolls his eyes at the other. It’s not like he had bothered to button up his own shirt, either.

They stop by a diner after driving for another hour, and Nishiki spends the time it takes for Kiryu to get his shirt on and half-buttoned to wipe sand off his seat.

“I think I have sand in my crack” he complains, crudely pulling at the fabric of his underwear through the fabric of his pants as he straightens up, slamming the car door shut as Kiryu circles the car.

“It was your idea to lay on the sand” Kiryu frowns, and it’s a tell-tale that he’s dealing with the same problem.

“Oh c’mon- I can’t wait to take a shower” Nishiki rolls his shoulders, shaking his hands a few times to get the blood flowing in them again as they make way to the entrance.

The place they stop at appears to be a family diner, and based on the number of customers there, it seems fairly popular with the locals despite its tacky interior décor, chipped square tiles and washed-up hand-written posters.

As Nishiki trails in behind Kiryu, his eyes skim over his back. Kiryu’s shirt isn’t even really sticking to his skin too badly yet, but the lines of the dragon can be faintly seen through the sheer white fabric where the fabric is tighter over the muscle – Nishiki makes a mental note to avoid white in the heat of the summer himself.

They grab a booth from the back, away from the prying eyes of any potential concerned customers. Sitting across from each other, Nishiki lightly kicks Kiryu under the table to get his attention as he passes one of menus to Kiryu. The table isn’t too wide, so their legs slot against each other rather comfortably, staying there, slightly overlapped.

For a restaurant that’s situated more or less in the middle of nowhere, the menu has a rather large selection of options to choose from: red meats, a lot fish, a few odd chicken dishes. There are only a few alcoholic drinks listed, all bottled beer, yet there’s at least five different milkshakes among a long list of desserts.

Kiryu eyes through the drink menu, eyes latching onto the few beers listed there.

“Do you mind if I drink?” He asks, knowing Nishiki probably won’t.

Nishiki flickers his eyes over the menu, catching Kiryu’s for a moment before returning to the selections of meats.

“Yeah it’s fine, It’s not like you can drive either way – but once you get your license I’ll make you drive me around”

 “When you put it like that, I don’t really mind not having one all that much” Kiryu smiles

“You really think I’ll always be there to drive you around?” Nishiki raises an eyebrow, “I’m not a taxi, you bastard”

“You aren’t?” Kiryu says, stupidly smug smile slightly tugging at the corner of his lip “here I thought you liked driving me around”

Nishiki is about to jab back, but then the waiter comes to their table to take their order, and he has to drop the topic.  

The food isn’t bad, but it’s nothing groundbreaking either. The place is fairly cheap, so they didn’t really have grand expectations, but after their vigorous splashing and being on the road for a while, any food is good food.

The waiter gives them a service smile when she comes to collect their empty plates, asking “Would you boys like to finish it off with a dessert?”

Nishiki is tempted to decline, because he’s not that hungry anymore, but the thought of something cold is still rather inviting. He looks at Kiryu from across the table, who seems to be having the same thought.

“Sure, why not. Anything you recommend?” Nishiki asks, opting to go for a recommendation instead of looking through the menu again.

“The milkshakes are very popular, but my personal recommendation would be the strawberry and ice-cream parfait”

“I’ll take that” Kiryu says, in the mood for something sweet.

“I’ll have the same thing, thanks” Nishiki nods, a polite smile on his face.  

“Alright, two parfaits! I’ll be right back then” The waiter returns his smile before heading towards the direction of the kitchen.

When the waiter finally pushes through the doors of the kitchen with a tray in her hand, Kiryu eyes the glass bowls with skepticism. They’re big, tacky, and filled to brim with ice-cream and strawberry slices, topped with what seems like a very gracious amount of chocolate sauce and a tower of whipped cream. It’s flashy – way flashier than the photos of the milkshakes attached on the menu had been.

Nishiki and Kiryu exchange looks – the dishes are bit too cute for two grown men to be having.

They had expected something bit more toned down, but the waiter smiles as she sets the desserts down, telling them to enjoy before heading towards a new table.

“Yuko would love this kind of shit” Nishiki comments, poking at the slices of the berries with his spoon before taste-testing - it’s very sweet because of the chocolate, but the ice-cream is rather creamy and pleasantly cold after a warm meal in such hot weather.

Maybe cute things aren’t bad once in a while.

Once they’re finished Nishiki pays the bill, and they get back on the road. The heat doesn’t bother them as much anymore, and Kiryu flickers the radio to a channel that plays old rock hits, both humming and singing along whenever a song they recognize comes on.

--

The record store is smaller in size than Kiryu had expected, them having driven all the way to here for it, but the shelves are packed full, rows and rows of selection jammed into a rather narrow space.

There’s cardboard boxes full of old vinyls on the floor, with the genre written on the side with a thick permanent marker and sloppy handwriting. The deeper you go into the store, the more it smells of tobacco, plastic and old paper. It’s a vinyl collector’s heaven, probably.

The newer stuff, the CDs and first release vinyls are neatly lined up on the higher shelves, clearly displayed with more care. The sheer number of records stuffed into the shelves makes up for the lack of space, and Kiryu browses through the disco record section while Nishiki chats up the cashier at the back of the store, asking about the item he’d called in about. There’s music playing from the small stereo speakers, something jazzy and loud.

There are some names among the records which Kiryu recognizes, but the one that catches his eye is one he knows Nishiki has few vinyls from. He lifts his gaze to search for Nishiki to show it to him, and finds him still occupied with the cashier, with his back turned.

Kiryu approaches him from behind, putting his hand on the small of his back to get his attention, to shift him to the side a little. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yeah, he’s bagging it up for me.” Nishiki says, eyes flickering to the item the other is holding “Oh? Did something catch your eye?”

Kiryu holds out the record and Nishiki quickly recognizes it, eyes widening as he reaches for it to flip it over, to double-check the track list.

“No way, I don’t have that one! I didn’t know you even recognized her”

“You’ve lent me a cassette by her before, remember? She’s got a recognizable voice, I liked her” He says as he breaks apart from Nishiki a little, who moves to slide the vinyl over the counter to add it to his purchase.  

“Nice one, bro. I’ll get it” Nishiki smiles at him but then scans his now empty hands.

“Aren’t you buying anything for yourself?” Nishiki asks, “I saw that there’s a pretty big CD section on the left side, you could probably find something you like there” He says, and then cracks a smile “My treat, for tagging along.”

Kiryu isn’t really in the mood for shopping for himself, but he thinks he might as well take up the offer, maybe get something for the way home, or grab a few cassettes for his old boom box. He leaves Nishiki to the checkout counter, and heads towards the direction Nishiki had nodded at.

After he’s browsed for a bit, he feels a weight on his shoulder and warmth against his back.

“Anything good in there?”

He doesn’t have to turn his head to catch the side of Nishiki’s face in the corner of his eye, the man lazily propping his chin on his shoulder to look at what Kiryu’s looking at, hands in his pockets and a plastic bag hanging around his wrist. He’d bought the record he came here for, along with a couple vinyls and CDs for himself, and few extra CDs for Yuko’s Walkman too. He hadn’t even browsed the cassette section, yet.

This close, with his hair lightly brushing against Kiryu’s cheek he smells of cigarette smoke and salt water, and Kiryu briefly wonders if he does too.

There’s few CDs Kiryu had set aside of which he lifts the top-most to Nishiki, who reaches over Kiryu’s shoulder to grab it and turn it in his hand. He hums, gesturing to Kiryu to give the next one.

“I see you’ve still got the taste of an old man – these are all old as hell”

“Shut up” Kiryu elbows at him, but it only gains him a satisfied laugh. “You told me to get something I like”

“Don’t be so sensitive, Kyodai. I Just made an innocent observation” He says, the flash of teeth doing nothing to hide the teasing tone of his voice.

They end up spending a good amount of time and money at the shop, losing track of time as they get lost deep between the boxes and shelves with their shoulders bumping together as they skim through the vinyls one by one, discovering plenty old faces and familiar albums, contemplating which new artists seem like they could be worth the try based on just the album covers and track lists.

The items somehow gradually pile up, and the total of Nishiki’s purchase is bit ridiculous – yet it doesn’t even seem to bother him.

Kiryu isn’t surprised Nishiki doesn’t even flinch at the price – in the past few years he has picked up a habit for splurging, talking about the fast times they were living and whatnot as money passed to and from his hands fast. It seemed like had a knack for both making and spending money, and Kiryu sure as hell didn’t mind riding off his generosity. A good chunk of the cassettes he had at home had been given to him by Nishiki, what’s a few more CDs to that.

“So, what’s next?” Kiryu asks as they leave the store, a bag hanging from his hand until they return to the car, and he passes it over to the other.

“Well, that wraps up my plans here.” Nishiki says as he’s placing the bags on the back seat, hesitating as he shuts the door “You got anything you want to do around here?”

“Nah, and it’s getting pretty late, so most shops are probably closing soon anyway”

“Yeah… Do you want me to drive us home? Or-” Nishiki asks, eyes wandering down the street, at the different shops and restaurants there “-we could check out if the bars here are any good, hit a hotel for the night and drive home tomorrow. Your call”

Staying in the city overnight sounded more inviting for Nishiki himself: he’s more tired than he expected to be, likely thanks to the heat, the wrestling and all the driving. The thought of navigating the unfamiliar roads home isn’t too appealing to him in the dark, even if he’s confident in his driving. He’d prefer driving in the morning.

Kiryu can sense his tiredness – to him it doesn’t really matter if they stay or return, since he isn’t the one driving – and so he suggests they stay in town for the night.

Nishiki finds them a hotel for the night, and after putting in a room reservation through a call they go and find a random hole-in-the-wall bar to drink at.

The bar is slotted between a restaurant and an office building, with mostly middle-aged men in there nursing their drinks, all probably regulars of the place, the after-work kind.

Nishiki orders them both a beer, and they take a seat off to the side. There’s a tv on in the background, a small bulky thing that’s covered in dust and propped up high in the corner, playing a rerun of an old baseball match they had both already seen, but it brings a pleasant background noise to space.

It's a different feeling to the more stylish and modern that bars they tend to drink at in Kamurocho, with less shiny countertops and less fancy selection of drinks, but the mood is comfortable, easy to slip into.

The weather isn’t as hot anymore, having cooled down to rather pleasant as the night approached. Without their jackets and pins they melt into the background as ordinary young men, maybe coming off as students who are clearly used to hitting the bars, despite not looking a day past twenty.

Nishiki’s wallet is placed on the table, thick from the cash packed inside, and as they aren’t causing a ruckus and look twentyish enough with Nishiki placing their order with practiced confidence, the staff doesn’t bother asking for IDs to double-check, and the alcohol keeps flowing.

The beer from the tap is rather cheap, not the worst they’ve ever had, and Kiryu drinks little heavier than he maybe should since he doesn’t have to drive tomorrow, while Nishiki limits himself to only few. Instead of getting drunk Nishiki orders few little snacks to nibble at, even tries some local delicacy while Kiryu drowns a glass after a glass. The baseball match eventually switches to some reality show, which switches to a talk show, although any sound coming from the screen is drowned out by the fan and the customer’s chatter.

They sit at the bar for few hours, chatting about nothing in particular- the conversation flows naturally from one topic to another – the conversation loops from the bar to the new city and to music, to some cute pop idol who has been skyrocketing in popularity and whose CDs had been almost sold out at the record shop.

They talk about a new men’s clothing shop that’s recently opened near Kamurocho that Nishiki has been intending to take Kiryu to, to finally get him to buy a new belt, since his old one is bad for the image, all scruffy and worn down. Kiryu mentions a restaurant that he’d gone to recently with a family superior, which had good sukiyaki, the kind Nishiki usually liked, and that he thought they should go there together some day.

Nishiki tells him they should go play pool again some time, lamenting this bar not having the table, and they talk about the last time they played and Nishiki wiped the floor with Kiryu – not even giving him a chance for his turn. Kiryu gives him a lazy shove, his voice slurring a little as he switches the topic to other competitive games they’d played, to darts and then bowling, making Nishiki frown as he’s reminded of the three gutter balls he threw in a row. Maybe they should try a different game next time, to switch things up.

They talk about work a little, then which genre of movie they should watch for their next movie night. The hours slip by, and eventually the old men at the bar start clearing out, and the owner gives the young duo a long look and a nod, which Nishiki doesn’t miss – time to go, it seems.

Kiryu hasn’t touched his drink for a good twenty minutes, clearly finished with it, so Nishiki reaches over and drowns what’s left of it in one go himself before he pats Kiryu on the back, signaling that they’re leaving.

It takes little scrambling for them to get through the door, and Nishiki only really notices Kiryu’s drunkenness when the other stumbles a little. They walk to the end of the street, pausing there when Kiryu has to take a break to steady himself. Nishiki could tell Kiryu had been tipsy as they talked, but it doesn’t really sink in until he sees the man sway.

“Sorry, I think I had little too much...” Kiryu admits, as he leans his elbows against a railing, sturdy thing by the edge of a canal that’s flowing through the city, head hung low between his shoulders, swaying in his footing.

Nishiki bumps against him as he comes to his side by the railing, hitting hip to hip, but it’s purposefully light enough that Kiryu doesn’t stumble from the touch. He still lets out a grunt because the action is annoying, to which Nishiki replies with a quick, amused exhale through his nose.

“It’s fine dude, it’s good to let loose now and then. I’ve got your back.” Nishiki smiles at him, slapping Kiryu’s back with a heavy hand between the shoulder blades, leaving his palm to linger there for a bit. He slides the hand up to Kiryu’s nape, running it back and forth through the short hair until Kiryu slaps it away. It just amuses Nishiki, who then pulls his hand back to dig for a smoke.

“Just don’t throw up on me” Nishiki jokes, tapping at his pack. “Want one?” He asks Kiryu, offering the cigarette poking out of the pack. Kiryu glances at him over his bicep but shakes his head, not in the mood.

Nishiki grabs one for himself and puts the pack away, spinning the flit wheel of his lighter to light his cigarette. He takes a long drag as he snaps the lighter shut, only to blow the smoke at Kiryu in jest.

Kiryu thinks he should probably shove Nishiki for that one, because Nishiki is clearly being annoying on purpose—he sometimes did that, when he was the more sober one and Kiryu was the drunk. He often found Kiryu’s drunken state amusing and enjoyed teasing him about it whenever his steps swayed or his voice slurred, calling him a lightweight while pointing out the alcohol flush. Usually he’d deny it, and going on defensive made it easy for Nishiki to push his buttons, get him to react.

They both knew it was always just lighthearted banter, and a part of Nishiki’s stupid teasing even now was justified revenge for all the times Kiryu had manhandled him when Nishiki was wasted, for lugging him around like a sandbag when his steps got too unsteady– for calling Nishiki a lightweight when he was throwing his guts up on the side of the road after a particularly wild night out a month or so back. They had their moments. They both got kind of annoying about it in their own ways.

Kiryu lifts his weight off the railing, in slow, wobbly movement as thinks about shoving Nishiki a little, maybe calling him an ass and stealing his cigarette, but when he faces the man, he doesn’t feel like it anymore.

He’s still feeling rather unsteady, he feels his head spin despite getting up slowly, so instead of shoving the guy away, he opts to pull him closer just drop his head on Nishiki’s shoulder instead.

“Hey, you’re not seriously going to throw up on me, are you?” Nishiki asks, the tone of his voice still teasing, but he’s reacting to the sudden touch with slight doubt. He lifts a hand to Kiryu’s forearm, there to steady when needed.

Kiryu’s not sure how physical contact comes so easily to Nishiki, shoving and pulling Kiryu off and to himself however he likes without giving it any thought. He’d always been the type to sling an arm over Kiryu’s shoulder or throw his legs over his lap when they were laying in their bunkbed at the orphanage, always close and comforting. It was just how Nishiki had always been, Kiryu thinks, since they were kids; physical touch seemed to just come to him easy, as natural as breathing.

Kiryu wasn’t quite as natural with it, never had been. He thinks that he wants to wrap his arms around Nishiki, hook them to his hips or loop them over his shoulders, but the touch doesn’t find the right shape in his mind – he’s not actually sure what it is that he wants.

He lifts an arm halfway between them, only to drop it back to his side.

Fuck, the alcohol really is doing a number on him.

Somehow, there’s always been a threshold that’s kind of difficult to overcome when it comes to initiating gentle touch like this for Kiryu, and often only when he’s drunk does he become aware of it, how much it bothers him.

It was easier to just let Nishiki be the one who always reaches out. To push after he pulls.

“You alright there?” Nishiki’s voice calls out to him by his ear, still sounding more amused at than concerned over the other’s silence. He bucks at his shoulder a little, just to initiate a reaction. “Don’t fall asleep on me, bro”

“I’m fine” Kiryu replies, but still doesn’t move his head from Nishiki’s shoulder. He probably wants to wrap his arms around Nishiki’s ribcage and squeeze him like he’d do to a guy in street fight, right before he tosses them over his shoulder, probably. Just without the tossing or letting go. “I’m just… little lightheaded”

“Yeah? Should we go then?”

“Yeah, we should” Kiryu agrees, but makes no effort to move.

He feels Nishiki’s shoulder shake under his head, poorly suppressed laughter bubbling from his chest.

“Clingy”

“Shut up” Kiryu says, but it makes him smile too.

“Am I wrong?”

Maybe it’s the lights shimmering in the water, or the empty streets of the strange city and the alcohol flowing in his veins, but when Kiryu lifts his gaze to Nishiki’s face to check the inevitable smile that’ll be lingering on it, he’s unable to peel his eyes away from the sight.

There’s not much alcohol flush there, even though he also had a couple glasses. Nishiki instantly notices him staring as they stand so close, catching his eye, but he only ever slightly raises his brow and tilts his head. He takes a long drag before plucking the cigarette from between his lips, to blow the smoke to the side. He’s being polite, this time – it’s not fun to tease the drunk too much.

The smell still lingers, strong and inviting, and Kiryu suddenly regrets not taking the offered cigarette earlier.

Kiryu reaches for Nishiki’s hand, sliding his own over the back of it to reach the cigarette still slotted between Nishiki’s fingers with his own, wordlessly snatching it from him to take a good, long drag out of it. Nishiki watches him inhale, brows furrowing.  

“You know I just offered you one” Nishiki says with a small frown, but it quickly slips off and gets replaced with a lopsided smile as he leans in, little closer “or did you just want an indirect kiss from me? If you want to kiss me, you can just-”

Kiryu blows the smoke straight to his face, and the ugly expression and the little cough it draws out of Nishiki is more satisfying than any jab back would be.

Nishiki calls him an asshole, but still lets the man take another drag before lifting his hand up again, for Kiryu to pass the cigarette back to. He deserved that, anyway – tooth for tooth.

“I can still give you one, if you changed your mind-” Nishiki speaks once the cigarette is back in the hand of the rightful owner, but he gets interrupted with a touch before he properly can finish the sentence – he makes a movement to take another drag, but Kiryu lifts a hand to push his hand away.

Kiryu reaches his other hand to the side of Nishiki’s face, inching little closer, pressing it against the jaw and the cheek in a way that is little clumsy, squishing the cheek in a little before reaching the hand past the face, further towards the back of his head, to pull him in.

The kiss is light and drunk, with Kiryu only gently catching Nishiki’s bottom lip between his own as they press against each other, shifting, but he feels Nishiki’s surprised exhale on his skin, and the hovering, steadying hand has been pressed against his arm, and in all its briefness the kiss feels good, like the first sip from a cold can after a long day.

They didn’t really do this kind of thing in public, even when the streets were deserted, so it’s a little strange and unexpected – but not completely in a bad way.

When Kiryu sways the kiss gets a little off-centered, and he can feel the corner of Nishiki’s lip curling underneath his own. Their lips separate again, and Kiryu’s lips brush against the side of Nishiki’s face instead, ghosting against the clean-shaven skin somewhere above his top lip, before he tilts his head downwards again, seeking balance. He sways, and Kiryu sits his forehead against Nishiki’s to anchor him there.

“Had one too many, eh?” Nishiki asks him, amused by the sight of the flushed face pressing into his own too close.

“Maybe” Kiryu admits, closing his eyes.

Kiryu’s still feeling just as lightheaded, so he drops his head back on Nishiki’s shoulder, but instead of letting his hand drop to his side, he trails it down Nishiki’s shoulder, down his arm to the palm of his free hand, fingers sliding in between Nishiki’s, to hold his hand.

It’s a hesitant and slow movement, not effortlessly natural like how Nishiki is when he throws an arm over him, but Nishiki doesn’t seem to mind the clumsiness of it – If anything, it seems to have quieted him up, his hand going stiff for briefest second before he mirrors the action and curls his fingers in, around Kiryu’s hand. 

Kiryu thought he’d say something stupid about it, tease him about being sappy, but he’s gone quiet, saying nothing about the thumb softly stroking the back of his hand. It’s nice, to get him to shut up like so.

Kiryu realizes he’d zoned off when his balance is swayed by Nishiki shifting his feet, and he looks down to see him step off the cigarette butt he’d just put the ember out of.

They should go.

Their fingers are intertwined, still.

The warmness of it is getting a little uncomfortable, even when the night air is not as hot anymore.

Kiryu lifts his head up, but does it a bit too fast because it makes him all too aware of the alcohol in his system again, but thankfully it quickly settles back to better.

He doesn’t even feel that drunk, not really, just tipsy enough to be fuzzy around the edges. It’s often only in the quiet moments that you catch onto your own drunkenness, though.

Nishiki turns his face slightly to look at him, but doesn’t say anything, doesn’t pull his hand back just yet. Kiryu thinks he should start leading them to the hotel where they’ll be staying so they can go to sleep, only to make a sudden realization.

“Where are we staying again?”

Nishiki gives him a face that tells him that Nishiki really, really wants to make fun of him, but instead of voicing whatever comment he thought of, Nishiki shifts on his feet.

“The hotel I called from the car phone is just down the street” He cocks his head to the general direction of the hotel, “We can walk, if you can stay on your feet. If you’re too drunk to walk you’re going to have to crawl, because I won’t carry you.”

He would, if he had to.

He takes a step towards the direction, but hesitates, unsure if he should let his half of the grip go limp, so that Kiryu would follow in suit. Kiryu tracks his gaze, but doesn’t let go either, instead stepping ahead to follow Nishiki, the joined hands falling in between them again.

That gains a small laughter from Nishiki, who gives his hand a squeeze “This shit makes me feel like we’re kids again”

It’s as if Nishiki had been reading his mind, his thoughts having drifted back to their time at Sunflower too, so he just nods in agreement, falling to step next to him.

It’s not too different from Nishiki throwing an arm around his shoulder, in a sense — just a little different shape of touch, something that felt childish and bit embarrassing, but nice. They were still figuring it out with these kinds of things, a clumsy dance of trial and error of what they wanted, and what felt right.

This felt right.

They stay like that, hands locked and shoulders bumping together, until they reach the front door of the hotel. Nishiki lets go first, as they approach the entrance, but once Kiryu loosens his hold Nishiki reaches over to sling his arm over his shoulder, squeezing the trapezius in a quick reassurance of sorts, before letting go and pushing the door open.

While Nishiki grabs them the key from the receptionist, Kiryu lingers in the lobby, trying to act sober while his eyes gloss over the psychedelic patterns on the carpeted floor. Nishiki returns to his side, spins the key on his finger by the key ring as they navigate the hallways of the hotel to find their room.

It’s a fairly cheap place, the first place he had called that had an empty room just for one night at such short notice, and when Nishiki pushes the room door open he’s not too surprised to find the place be as barebones as it gets. Kiryu closes the door behind him while Nishiki flickers the lights on before they kick their shoes off, mapping out the small room.

There are two beds with no night tables by them, only one bigger table situated at the foot of the bed with a landline and an empty ashtray on it. There’s a small window on the side of the wall with no curtains on it, directly facing the cemented side of the paint-chipped building opposite it, and there’s an old AC on the ceiling that’s visibly dusty even from the distance.

Neither of them really cares about what dull color the walls are or the lack of a nice view, but they both eye the slim, separate western style single beds with growing distain.

With the size of their frames, sleeping comfortably on such a narrow bed would be unlikely. Nishiki’s the type to sprawl all over, and Kiryu’s more used to sleeping on a futon on the floor. Even though they often squeezed together onto Nishiki’s pipe bed, that was slotted against the wall of his apartment, and way wider. This wouldn’t do.

Without the night tables, they could easily shove the beds together, and turn them into one, more comfortable sized twin bed for the night.

“You wanna?” Nishiki gestures towards the beds, and Kiryu already knows they’re thinking of the same thing.

“Yeah, for sure- Let me” Kiryu says, circling around to the bed that is further from the door.

He crouches down to put his palms on the frame, steadying himself against it, before pushing at it until the beds touch. It makes a loud dragging sound that echoes in the room, high enough that it probably goes through the walls, too.

Nishiki frowns at him a little, having been hoping for a little more discreet approach, but then he realizes it’s stupid to except any kind of finessing from a drunk Kiryu.

Kiryu sees his frown, but doesn’t connect the dots, instead thinking Nishiki is frowning about the small gap that remains between the mattresses. He tilts his head a little, satisfied enough with the job he did. “At least now neither will roll over and drop off the bed”

“As if your drunk ass would even wake up to that” Nishiki replies, but he’s also satisfied with doubled size of the bed. It was easier like this, anyway, making do by themselves.

Kiryu just rolls his eyes and sits himself at the foot of the bed while Nishiki heads past him and goes to check out the bathroom.

“At least they’ve got the bare minimum in here too” he continues talking, leaving the door ajar.

Despite the cramped room and somewhat thin towels, the hotel has still thankfully provided the essential; the counter is lined with few unopened shampoos, travel size toothpastes and new toothbrushes in plastic bags.

“I’ll take a shower first, the saltwater makes my hair feel gross” Nishiki says, briefly peeking out of the bathroom before closing the door behind him, and Kiryu just gives him a lazy thumbs up as he drops to lie on his back on the bed for a bit. His head is spinning, and just closing his eyes helps with the swimming vision. The bed is soft underneath him, rather comfortable to sink into.

By the time Nishiki gets out of the shower, hair wet and a toothbrush hanging from his mouth as he’s about to complain about the weak water pressure, he finds Kiryu already passed out, laying on his back at the same spot where Nishiki had last seen him slump into.

He’d probably been meaning to wait for Nishiki to get out of the shower, to talk little more before they head to bed because he has still got his dress shirt and pants on, despite the fact that he always gets hot during the night with clothes on.

The heat has dulled down to a little more tolerable temperature now that it was night, sure, but it’ll go back up in the morning again, and he doesn’t trust the hotel’s aircon system to be anything too grand.

Nishiki frowns, but leaves the scene to go spit in the sink. After finishing the brushing, he shuts the lights from the bathroom and circles to Kiryu’s side of the bed – he kicks at a leg, but it doesn’t get much of a reaction.

“Kiryu”

Not even a grunt or a furrow of a brow. Nishiki’s knee sinks into the mattress as he leans over the other, reaching in to shove at his shoulder.

“Kiryu” He calls again, little louder, but doesn’t get much of a response.

“Oi, kyodai – wake up” He gives the other a firm shake, which gains him a grumble of some sort. “C’mon Kiryu, get up and take this shit off yourself. You’ll get a heatstroke if you sleep in all that”

Kiryu lets out a grunt of sorts, taking his time coming to terms with the fact that Nishiki is right – Kiryu then starts slowly fiddling at his buttons, fingers clumsy and tired.

Nishiki backs off, getting back on his own feet, to give the guy the room.

The furrow on Kiryu’s brow worsens as he tries to focus on the tedious task. He manages to struggle the shirt half-off, and then get the worn-down belt open, and then undoes the tedious button of his pants, and then the zipper, and then he gets his pants to half-cheek before giving up, growing tired and not finding the damn stripping worth the hassle.

Nishiki watches his pathetic, drunken attempt at undressing from the side with a frown while toweling off his hair. It’s a sorry sight.

“Seriously?” He asks when the other ceases moving, with the pants are still half-on.

“‘m too tired” is all he gets as a reply.

“C’mon, it’s not that difficult bro”

“You pull them then-” Kiryu says, not moving an inch, “you’re not even drunk.”

“Like hell I will”

This, too, makes Nishiki feel like they are kids bickering – only Kiryu is drunk, and clearly not finishing the job himself.

He’s not too interested in helping Kiryu out just because he’s being lazy, but he doesn’t want Kiryu overheating and kicking him when he’s inevitably kicking the pants off in the middle of the night, so he lets out an exaggerated sigh as he grabs onto the hems of the pants and yanks- roughly.

He yanks hard enough that he pulls Kiryu along – the force of it drags his whole frame down for a bit along the bed, accidentally pulling his underwear halfway down his thighs along with them. It’s a miracle Kiryu himself doesn’t drop off the bed, too.

“You get what you ask” Nishiki smiles, almost laughs, an amused huff escaping his lips as he holds onto the pants like a trophy.

“Oh fuck you” Kiryu doesn’t even want to crack his eyes open but he still lets the insult roll off his tongue when he sees the stupid look on Nishiki. The frown is clear on his face as he pulls his underwear back up from where they’d gotten dragged down to, kicking himself back higher into the bed.

“I think that should be a thank you” Nishiki says as he throws the pants to the sloppy pile on the floor. “What would you ever do without me, bro”

“You lack finesse” Kiryu just insults him, because really, Nishiki could’ve been nicer about it.

“Are you in any place to say that?”

“Just wait until the next time you’re drunk and ask me for help… I’ll remember this” Kiryu threatens, but it completely lacks the punch. He can’t even really be mad about the whole thing because he feels more comfortable now.

“Are you even sure you’ll remember any of this in the morning?”

“Hey, I’m not that drunk”

There’s a light sound of laughter, and some rustling. The lights flicker off.

With the cement wall blocking off the sky and any stray moonlight, the room is left in complete pitch darkness.

“…Shit, I can’t even see the bed” Nishiki’s voice echoes from the slim corridor, and it takes him what sounds like a few unsteady steps to locate the corner of the mattress. He pats at it until he finds what feels like Kiryu’s shin, tracing it up to his knee. He gives it a firm shove.

“Scoot over” He tells Kiryu, planting his other palm flat on the mattress by his legs.

“Take the other side”

“Bro I can’t even see the other side, just move”

Kiryu doesn’t have the energy to scoot over, rather comfortable on this side of the bed, and he feels like he could just doze off there until Nishiki shoves at him again. He really doesn’t want to scoot over because he’s tired, but what he does seem to miraculously have the energy for it is to bend his body as he blindly swats in the dark where he felt Nishiki shove him at – until his hand finds something to grab onto: that something being Nishiki’s forearm, caught right above his wrist.

Kiryu wraps his fingers around it and yanks – hard.

He pulls hard enough that the man connected to the stray limb topples over on the bed, half onto the empty side and half over Kiryu’s legs. There’s a sound that’s somewhere between a yelp and a groan, half of it muffled by the mattress Nishiki must’ve planted his face onto.

“Really?” Nishiki asks him, voice sardonic as he gets on up on his elbow, facing the other in the dark. “you’re such an ass”

Kiryu can’t see his face, but he knows from the tone exactly what kind of expression sits on his features right now. It makes him feel pretty damn smug.

“Congrats, you’ve found the other side” Kiryu says, finally letting go of the arm. “Now let me sleep”

“You’re just asking to be kicked off this bed” Nishiki complains, shoving at what feels like Kiryu’s knee as he’s trying to scramble over him to the empty side.

He can’t see shit, so he blindly swats at whatever there is to feel on the bed in an attempt to reach the empty pillow – the knee is moved after he shoved it, and now his palm connects with what feels like some part of Kiryu’s torso. He gives it a shove too, a half-assed revenge, but quickly feels a hand around his forearm.

“Try me and we’re both on the floor” Kiryu says, clearly having grown rather irritated from all the shoving.

Nishiki’s pretty sure he might’ve kneed the guy as he crawled over him, too – which serves him right, really. Kiryu gives the arm a squeeze before letting go, but it doesn’t even register as a threat to Nishiki.

“Being so clingy isn’t cute, y’know” Nishiki jokes as he moves his hand, using Kiryu as a landmark to find his path to the damn pillow.

He grabs onto a duvet and pulls, unsure whose it is, but since Kiryu doesn’t yank back it’s safe to assume it’s his own.

When Nishiki finally slips between the sheets himself, onto the previously empty side of the two beds, it doesn’t take long for an arm to be flung over him. He knew to expect it, too.

Kiryu scoots closer, over the small dip in the middle where the two beds connect, to Nishiki’s side. He pulls his own pillow closer to Nishiki’s, while Nishiki shifts his blanket, so it doesn’t get stuck in-between them.

“Your hair is still wet” Kiryu complains as he overtakes a chunk of Nishiki’s pillow with his own head, the damp strands uncomfortable against his face. Nishiki just hums, a sound of vague agreement.

“I know, there’s no blow dryer here so the best I could do was towel dry it.”

“you’ll get the pillow wet”

“…If you’re going to bitch about it, just roll over to your own side- and why are you on my pillow in the first place?” Nishiki glances over shoulder, but his accusatory side eye is gone unseen by Kiryu.

When he feels Nishiki shifting, Kiryu just hums and adjusts his arm a little, moving it higher to rest it over the ribcage. Clearly the wet hair doesn’t bother him that much, as he doesn’t even try to argue further.

Nishiki lets out a huff, something that’s half amused and half tired. Despite the thin walls, there’s barely any sound coming in from outside. There’s just Kiryu’s breath somewhere near the base of his neck, and the smell of alcohol, mixed in with smoke and the sea.

“You still stink of saltwater” He mutters. It’s not as much a complaint as it is just an observation.

Kiryu mumbles back, that he’ll shower in the morning, clearly already drifting off again.

It’s little too warm for them to sleep together comfortably, skin sticking to skin, but Nishiki is too tired from all the driving and wrestling and walking to bother to shove Kiryu off. It’s not unbearably hot, and Kiryu’s chest against his back is familiar and comforting in the foreign pitch darkness of the puny hotel room, something he finds himself leaning into.

Kiryu’s arm is sticking to Nishiki’s side, his breath warm, but instead of shoving him off, Nishiki just kicks the duvet off his upper body. He can just take a cold shower in the morning, anyway.

--

The next morning, they wake up still tangled together and wet from sweat.

Nishiki finds his face buried deep in base of Kiryu’s neck, and it takes him a moment to stir awake, to shift his limbs a little, arm flung over Kiryu’s chest, one leg slotted somewhere between Kiryu’s.

The morning sun has already risen, and although there’s no direct sunlight coming into the room, the temperature is uncomfortably hot- the damn AC isn’t doing jack shit, as he’d feared. This is why he prefers splurging on high-end hotels, even if they were out of his budget.

Nishiki mutters Kiryu’s name against the skin, wanting to check if he’s awake, only to let out a yawn half-way through it. His shifting causes Kiryu to let out a throaty sound that’s not quite a grumble, and not quite a whine. It’s not a good sound.

“You awake?” Nishiki asks, not bothering to move.

“I feel like shit” Kiryu says, voice groggy.

“Yeah? I wonder why that could be”

Nishiki’s voice is coming from too close to Kiryu’s ear, and its proximity is making the skull splintering headache worse.

“Shut up” He says, pulling his head closer to his own chest, further from Nishiki.

As he bends forwards, his back unsticks from Nishiki’s chest, and the uncomfortable sensation of it makes them aware of the fact that they’ve clearly sweated through the night but still haven’t detached from each other to cool off—it’s kind of disgusting, actually. The sheets are just as sweaty, and they stick to his side.

“Morning to you too”

Nishiki bends his own neck a little, stiff from probably having been stuck in an awkward position for too long. He licks his lips, and tastes salt. He could smell it on Kiryu, too – he’s not sure if it’s the sweat, or the sea. Probably both.

“Ugh, you’re gross, go shower”

Kiryu shifts, shoves at Nishiki just enough for the man to get the clue to scoot little further, pulling his arms and legs back to himself before rolling onto his back. Nishiki expects Kiryu to make an effort to get up now that he’s been released from the cuddle, but instead he rolls onto his back too, into the newly made space, with the sides of their shoulders and feet brushing against each other. He tilts his head to look at Nishiki, with little furrowed brow, still drowsy, clearly hungover.

“What’s the rush?”

“The AC in this place sucks ass, and we probably need to check out within few hours, anyway.”

It’s still early in the morning, and neither of them wants to get up, but there was no telling how unbearable it’d get once the mid-day heat hits. Nishiki didn’t want to stick around for long enough to find out.

“C’mon we’ve got to get up” Nishiki says, sighing before pushing his body up. Kiryu lets out an exaggerated sigh but follows suit.

While Kiryu makes way for the shower, Nishiki pulls his clothes back on. He wipes his chest and pits on the still-damp towel he’d used yesterday to dry off his hair, opting out of taking another shower despite feeling kind of gross.

He’d have to drive for another few hours today anyway, and even if the car has expensive and decent AC, the leather seats of his car will be scorching, and they’ll inevitably just sweat more. He’ll just shower when he gets home.

Once he’s dressed he knocks on the bathroom door, letting himself in while Kiryu showers so he can take a piss, brush his teeth and splash some water on his face, not feeling like waiting for Kiryu to finish to get on with what he can do of his usual morning routine here. He wishes he’d packed cologne or at least a deodorant, but he hadn’t really expected their trip to stretch into an overnight one.

The bathroom is a fairly small one with the toilet, a mirror and a small counter with the brushes at the top, the towels piled up on the shelves below. There’s a slim, clear glass panel by the shower that blocks the worst of the splatters from wetting the whole bathroom that Nishiki positions himself safely behind of, one which doesn’t leave much for imagination. Nishiki takes a glance at the sorry sight that is his miserable sworn bother.

Kiryu’s quiet while Nishiki flushes and washes his hands, barely acknowledging his presence. The way Kiryu leans against the wall while the water falls on his back tells a lot about his current state of wellbeing.

Nishiki wets the toothbrush and starts brushing, leans his hip against the sink, holding himself back from teasing the other too much.

“You should brush your teeth too,” he says “I bet your breath stinks”

Kiryu reaches one of his hands towards Nishiki, eyes still closed “Give me a brush then”

“Aren’t you being bossy” Nishiki raises a brow at him but reaches for the second toothbrush that’s still in the plastic package. He offers it to Kiryu, who reaches over, but who feels it getting pulled back right before he grabs it.

“What do you say?” Nishiki asks with a stupid, amused smirk on his face. He couldn’t resist a little teasing, after all.

“Fuck off” Kiryu says but still offers his empty palm to Nishiki “have some mercy will you, bro”

“Yeah yeah, you’re welcome” Nishiki smiles, slapping the brush onto Kiryu’s palm. Kiryu can’t open the plastic wrap one handed, so he lifts the arm he had been supporting himself with off the wall, to pull the bag open.

“Got any toothpaste?” he asks, lazily wetting the brush under the shower.

Nishiki is nice enough to pop the tube open, waiting for Kiryu to offer the brush to him, but as he squeezes it on the bristles of the brush, it’s a questionably large amount – enough for a chunk of it to drop on the floor.

Kiryu doesn’t care enough to complain, shoving the overloaded brush into his mouth as he shifts to lean his forehead against the cool bathroom tile, sluggish in his brushing but at least he’s getting the job done. Nishiki watches the toothpaste foam get caught on the little sand that’s on the floor as the water flows into the drain, and the pathetic sight of the other is somewhat amusing, and somewhat ridiculous.

Nishiki doesn’t think Kiryu even had that much to drink to begin with, but they’d been sitting at the bar for a while, chatting the hours away, so maybe he really had too much—he did order quite a few highballs as the night went on.

Nishiki didn’t keep track, having no idea of how many glasses had been emptied in total throughout the night and clearly neither did Kiryu. Kiryu had always been the type who doesn’t really show his level of intoxication too clearly – you only really know he’s drunk when he throws up or passes out… or starts acting clingy with Nishiki.

Maybe he really did have few too many.

Nishiki was hoping Kiryu’s state would improve, because he wasn’t looking forward to having the man bitch and moan about his hangover all the way through the drive home.

“We should probably grab something to eat before we drive back” he suggests, turning towards the mirror to try to fix his hair, despite having no products or even a hairbrush for it.

There are strands sticking up to various directions and running a hand through it does nothing to improve the situation. It’s the price he has to pay for going to bed with damp hair, and he makes a mental note to check his wallet for a spare hair tie later.

“Anything you’re in the mood for right now?” He adds, eyes drifting back to Kiryu. He traces the black lines of the dragon absentmindedly, before spitting in the sink and tossing the toothbrush.

“Something greasy” Kiryu replies, brows furrowed in a frown worse than usual as he’s moving onto washing the shampoo from his hair, the toothbrush muffling his voice as it hangs lazily from his lip.

“Yeah? too bad we can’t hit Tontenshan this time”

The thought of noodles floating in the rich, cloudy pork bones-based broth with some crispy, deep-fried meat loaded on top makes Kiryu’s mouth water- the mental image comes to him more vivid than ever.

Tontenshan’s tonkotsu ramen had been their go-to hangover food in Kamurocho for a good while already, and Kiryu would seriously kill for a bowl right now. The toothpaste foam drips down his chin as he pulls the toothbrush from his mouth to speak.

“You’re torturing me, bro” he groans, voice coming off amusingly serious. He rinses the toothbrush handle under the shower spray until it appears clean, then he passes it to Nishiki, who tosses it away into a small bin by the sink.

“We can go next time”

“…I’ll hold you to that”

When Kiryu is finished and turns the water off, Nishiki offers him a towel with a somewhat sympathetic smile. Although they did enjoy teasing each other, it was clear the other wasn’t feeling the greatest, and they really did need to get going.

“We could just hit a convenience store, too- get you something for the hangover. I saw one on the way here that should be open” he suggests.

“Nah, I want a proper meal- are there any breakfast places or cafes nearby?” Kiryu replies, drying himself off as they both exit the bathroom, ruffling at his hair with the towel.

“Probably… we can just try our luck while we walk back to the car”

Showering seemed to cheer Kiryu up a little, although he’s clearly still rather miserable as he pulls his clothes back on. Nishiki circles the bed, wanting to check that they aren’t leaving anything behind while Kiryu is working on the buttons of his own shirt.

Nishiki comments about the sand on the sheets while he shifts the duvets around, tossing them and the pillows on their rightful sides. He swipes his palm over the sheet on his own side, to shake the sand to the floor before kicking the beds apart, back to where they were before, with more finesse than there was last night.

 Once they’re dressed and ready to go, he flickers the light off and closes the door behind them as they leave.

It’s bit of a walk, but they grab breakfast at a decent-seeming small cafe that smells strongly of ground coffee and cigarette smoke, with high bar stools and a slim counter like in an izakaya, made of thick wood and all worn down from years of use. There are greasy vintage posters on the wall, yellow from tobacco smoke and proximity of the kitchen, which give the place an appearance of age. The place must’ve been around for a long time, based on the décor, and that’s always a good sign with places like these.

Nishiki discusses the local favorites with the owner over the counter, a short older man probably somewhere in his 60s, while Kiryu finds bliss from stuffing his face with the greasy fried egg dish he’d picked off the menu.

Nishiki ordered himself a black coffee only to get it with cream, but he’s not too bothered by the unexpected change, at least not enough to complain about it.

He got himself a slice of toast off the breakfast part of the menu to go with it, a fat slab of butter melting on the toasted surface as he washes a bite down with the coffee. He also got a side salad that apparently comes along with the bread, and it’s surprisingly decent for a light meal, especially when they mostly gravitated towards greasy and heavy foods.

He’s not too hungry himself yet anyway, mostly there to just keep Kiryu company.

The owner recognizes them to not be locals from their way of speech, asks them if they’re university students on a holiday, to which Nishiki just smiles, nodding along. Kiryu doesn’t contribute to the conversation much, outside occasional grunts and hums, but he’s still following along to the conversation from the sidelines—he likes listening to Nishiki talk his head off, whatever the topic be.  

It’s rather comfortable like this, grabbing a lazy breakfast together, in an unfamiliar town they’ve never been to before.

If one really peered at the two and the light hit them just right, you might see the outline of a tattoo through the thin fabric of Kiryu’s white shirt, or you might question why they smell of the same soap, or why their thighs are touching when they’re sitting next to each other – but no one here knows them, or cares enough to look at them too hard. They’re just your usual couple of friends, probably in their early twenties, paying the price for the previous night’s heavy drinking.

Nishiki reaches in to crudely pick a piece of Kiryu’s meal with his fingers to taste test if it’s any good, stealing the crunchy edge of an egg and a piece of whatever meat is in there. It’s surprisingly spicy, the crispy egg making a sound when he bites into it, which gains him a sound of disapproval from Kiryu, muffled by a full mouth. It’s not bad at all.

Nishiki offers his toast to Kiryu in exchange, but Kiryu just gives him a shake of his head – Nishiki expected as much. Not greasy enough for his current needs, probably. He takes another bite of the toast himself, happy that Kiryu seemed to be feeling better after getting some food and water into his system.

The owner recommends them to go sightseeing, mentions some big local statue that tourists like to snap photos with— they’re not interested enough to actually grab onto the suggestion, but Nishiki pretends to be for the sake of the conversation flow, nodding along.

Nishiki smokes while Kiryu finishes his meal, and Kiryu doesn’t look as horribly hungover anymore as they head back to where they left the car the previous night.

Nishiki had a hunch about it, but once they reach the car, it becomes clear they hadn’t been fortunate enough to park in shade. When Nishiki unlocks the car and they pull the doors open, the handle feels scorching against bare skin and the hot air that pushed out of the car feels like a low blow – it’s heavy and uncomfortable.

The leather seats are just as scorching as Nishiki had expected, and they both leave the doors open for a moment as Nishiki reaches to turn the AC to max while Kiryu rolls his window down. Nishiki calls the office from his car phone while they try to air the car out, making sure there’s no messages left there for him or Kiryu.

They’re not in a rush to get back, no superiors breathing down their necks with new tasks and jobs yet, but they don’t want to waste too much time waiting for the car to cool so they accept their fate, the leather still uncomfortably hot against the back as they close the doors.

The radio is on, left on the same channel that they’d listened to most of the way here already, so Nishiki reaches behind him to grab the plastic bag from the backseat, struggling a little to reach it before pulling back.

“The floor is yours, bro” Nishiki smiles as he shoves the bag to Kiryu’s lap, a little smile spreading on his lips as he adds “no old man music though”

Kiryu rolls his eyes at the comment but digs the bag for a CD he thinks they’d both like. Eating helped him feel better, reduced the hangover from nausea to just a nasty headache. Maybe some good disco music would make him feel better, or maybe he should opt for rock again.

Nishiki proceeds to put the car to reverse, leaning back to look out of the back window as he reverses out of the parking lot. He glances at Kiryu while he’s at it, seeing the man put the first CD into the car radio.

Nishiki drops the sun visor down for himself as he returns his gaze forwards, and Kiryu reaches into the glove box to pull out his shades, offering them to him.

There's a smile on his face as he rejects the offer, telling Kiryu he can borrow the sunglasses if he wants to – to help with the hangover.

Kiryu pulls the shades on, the dimmed light instantly softening his headache. It’s a nice look, too.  

It doesn’t take too long for Nishiki to recognize what artist Kiryu had picked out, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he taps his finger to the beat against the steering wheel, a clear sign of approval.

It’ll be a few hours before they’re back anywhere near Kamurocho, where work and duty eventually await – but since their pagers aren’t beeping, they can take their sweet time on the way there.

They’ll have to stop for gas somewhere, probably have a few stretch breaks here and there too. Kiryu will find something interesting on the map again, and Nishiki will steer anywhere he wants to go. They have the time to spare, anyway.

The sun is shining, and the road is open with Kiryu turning the volume on the stereo up, so Nishiki presses his foot on the gas pedal and lets the feeling carry them towards their next pitstop, wherever that may be.