Chapter Text
1989
Makoto Makimura knelt on the dirt floor of the Empty Lot and shed a tear. As she held the device in her hands, she changed from a 20 year old woman living in Tokyo to a 10 year old girl living in China. Xiao Qiao was her name back then. Those days were difficult, growing up half-Japanese in a world that hated her existence. The abuse. Taunts. Discrimination. Being punished for nothing she had done. Her mother worked all the time just so they could scrape by. And even at home she was always sad. But spending time with her older brother Li Hua, dreaming of a better life, laughing with him, and listening to her watch’s lullaby were some of the few joys in life. The chime signaled when her brother was returning home from work. Now her mom was dead and so was her brother.
That man, Makoto thought. With the eyepatch. And the sad eye. It’s him. He fixed the chime. It has to be.
She stood up and put the watch in her pocket. That broken old hand-me-down. It represented the passage of time and a sense of hope that all those miserable hours and days would wash away and a new day would begin. He saved her time and time again. And he gave her back her happiness. The mystery man. She turned around and ran out of the narrow alley in her heels.
The streets of Kamurocho were full and chaotic at night. The bright lights were shining into Makoto’s sensitive, tear-stained eyes. Yet she kept on running. Across Taihei Boulevard. Up Theater Avenue. Maybe he was still nearby. If there was one place in all of Japan where she could find him, it would be here. Their spot. Where they last knew peace.
Makoto saw the takoyaki stand first. Standing there was a man in a snakeskin jacket sporting a strange haircut. He looked different than she remembered, but his aura was the same. He was a yakuza. Makoto approached him from behind.
“It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the man who saved me,” she said. The memories were fresh as can be. This time last year she was just a young woman trying to make ends meet in a massage parlor. Then a war broke out over a plot of land left in her name. Explosions. Murders. And a man who gripped her hand tight and refused to let go. “You never told me your name.”
He turned his face to the side, letting one eye glance back at her.
“Majima Goro. Nice to meet ya.”
Makoto marched forward and stood there before him. Majima turned to face her, but leaned back at her assertiveness. She was petite, but mighty. If his boys could see him now, he’d never hear the end of it. A muscular, tattooed 24 year old yakuza was afraid to face this tiny woman.
“You’re avoiding me, Majima Goro.” His name from her mouth was like a dagger in his side. “We saw each other on the street this morning, when you saved me from those creeps, and you acted like I was a stranger. You saved my life, you risked your own, so why are you pretending like none of that happened?”
Her eyes burned up at him. Majima tried to put on his mean face and look away. Her round face, framed by her bob of hair, pained him.
“Can’t ya see I’m a yakuza, little girl? People might get the wrong idea if they see you talkin’ to me. You don’t want nothin’ to do with who I am.”
“That’s not true,” Makoto said. “You showed me how to keep on going, even when everything is going wrong. You showed me the light when I was in darkness. That’s something I’ll never forget.”
Majima remained quiet. Looking off to the side, only his eyepatch faced her.
“Get lost, babe. Before I lose it.”
Makoto stepped towards him. “I don’t believe you. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you want nothing to do with me.”
Why not live dangerously, Majima thought. I am a new man after all.
“I don’t want nothing to do with ya.” He looked at her. Deep into those dark eyes that seemed endless. “Go marry that nice doctor,” he said. “Go and live a life of quiet Friday nights and peaceful Saturday mornings. You deserve it after everything you’ve been through. Me? For the rest of my life, I’ll be getting into fights for walking around the wrong corner or getting spotted by the wrong gang. I’m gonna to get stabbed. I’m gonna get hurt. He can give you everything I can’t. He loves you.”
But I love you, Makoto muttered to herself. The words echoed in her mind as a primal response in Chinese, a language she hadn’t used in some years. She caught herself and spoke again in Japanese. “And you’d be fine with that? If we never saw each other again”
Majima looked up at the night sky. “As long as you’re happy.”
Makoto took his hand in hers. Despite his glove, he felt the heat of her skin.
She smiled and told him, “I’ve never been happier than when I was having takoyaki with you.” She stood up on her toes and kissed him. His hard mouth weakened against her soft lips. All the stress melted from his shoulders. His eyepatch covered a dull, aching wound. But for the first time in a long time, he felt no pain. She was a girl who fell in love not for any of his good looks, nor had she seen any of his scars. It was personality. His selflessness. Kindness. And bravery.
And it was her bravery in standing up to the yakuza that made her someone worth falling in love with. She was wild and reckless like him. And cute as hell.
Majima and Makoto stood there in each other’s arms on a cool Spring night. All of Kamurocho faded away. As did all of Tokyo, all of Japan, all of the world. There was nothing but the smell of takoyaki in the air.
"They call me the Mad Dog of Shimano," he told her. "Still want to be with me."
She nodded. "I've always wanted a pet."
"I'm telling you this because it ain't exactly easy to retire from the yakuza."
"That's alright." She smiled. "I'm not blind anymore. I can outrun them, as long as you're with me."
Majima hung his head and laughed. He noticed that she was holding the watch in her hand. He took it and fastened it around her wrist.
“This is a crazy idea,” he told her with a grin. “But you’ve got yourself a deal. Makoto-chan.” He hugged her, wrapping his strong arms around her so that he would never lose her again. He had held her like this before, comforting her in an empty warehouse while the underworld hunted them down. But here, she felt solid. Firm. Now it was her turn to convince him that everything was going to be alright. They would make it together.
“I know,” she replied. “But you really are such a keeper.”