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Majima was bored.
The soft lull of the ship as it cut through the waves of the open ocean was relaxing, but it was also so boring. They were heading to a destination quite far away, and Majima could do nothing but wait.
He bit into an apple, the fruit crunching satisfyingly, and let his gaze sweep over the captain’s quarters of the Goromaru. He was sitting in his captain’s chair, his coat hanging over the back of the chair and leaving him topless. His gaze got stuck on a large coffer that was placed off to the side, near the red leather couch that stood almost opposite where he was currently sitting.
Struck by a sudden urge, he moved his legs down from the large wooden table he had been using as a footrest and sauntered over to the coffer, throwing the now nearly finished apple onto a tray placed on a nearby dresser before he opened it. It was chock full of clothes of different kinds - everything from brightly patterned Hawaiian shirts to a full on gimp suit - and he stuck both hands into the coffer and rummaged around for a while until he spotted something that stood out in the pile. He grabbed it and held it up, pursing his lips in thought as he inspected it.
It was a bright, neon pink, snake skin body con dress. Absolutely killer outfit, to be perfectly honest.
A feeling Majima quite couldn’t articulate grew inside of him as he looked at the dress. It was like… some sort of gut reaction, a longing of some kind.
Before he could think too hard about what that meant - actually, why would he need to think so much all the damn time anyways? He was a pirate captain, having the time of his life, not a worry in sight. Nothing from the old life he couldn’t even remember to drag him down.
…apart from Minami and Nishida, his two apparent-subordinates who seemed to respect him and fear him in equal measure. They were easy enough to deal with - they listened to what he said, and if he told them to fuck off, they did.
The one thorn in his side keeping him from living his life of adventure to its fullest was the one who didn’t fuck off when Majima told him to, and it was the man who had showed up with his stern face and bulging muscles saying kyoudai in that stupidly stern, hot, attractive voice.
Saejima.
Majima frowned and shook his head and shoulders a little in something that was not entirely unlike a dog shaking water from its fur.
Saejima was just… ruining all his fun. Typical.
“Whatever…” Majima muttered to himself, shoving the man who seemed insistent on dragging him back to his old life to the back of his mind.
Majima peeled out of the leather pants he was wearing and slipped into the dress. It fit surprisingly well - extremely well even, almost like it had been made custom for his measurements. Weird.
He turned his attention back to the coffer and spotted something that he had ignored before, and pulled it out. He held it up to inspect that as well - it was a blonde updo wig. He shook it out before putting it on, twisting it around so it sat correctly. Then, he turned to the nearby mirror mounted on the wall, in between the coffer and the couch. Once he was looking at himself in the mirror, he put his hand on his hip and cocked his head to the side. He squinted at his own reflection and pursed his lips as he inspected his own reflection.
Damn.
He looked good in this dress.
Suddenly, the doors to the captain’s quarter opened.
“Hey, Majima-”
Majima turned around to look at who had so rudely walked into his quarters without knocking, and found the one usual suspect: Saejima.
Saejima spotted Majima and froze midstep, hand still on the door handle, and went completely quiet. Majima could see the instant shift in the man’s demeanor as it went from something guarded, like feigned indifference, to something way more open and vulnerable.
Something like the feeling Majima had felt when he had picked up the dress earlier.
Something like longing.
Majima crossed his arms over his chest, the corners of his mouth turning downwards in a frown. “What do ya want?”
Saejima blinked rapidly a few times, as if he had forgotten why he had even gone into the captain’s quarters at all. “Right. Uh. Jason wants to talk to ya. Somethin’ about the weather and the route to the destination we’re goin’.”
“Tell him I’ll get to him when I can. I’m busy.” Majima turned his attention back to the mirror, eyeing Saejima’s reflection in it.
Saejima looked torn, as if he didn’t know if he should stay or leave, but he finally broke the silence by speaking. “Didn’t realise that ya packed that outfit.”
“I didn’t.” Majima smoothed his hands down his sides as he responded. “Would ya believe I found it in a container in Honolulu?”
Saejima’s eyebrows knitted together as he gave Majima a sceptical look. “A… container?”
Majima nodded and turned his head to look at Saejima. “Yep. A container.” They looked at each other for a long moment, the air between them thick with tension. Majima noticed how Saejima’s grip tightened on the door handle, and how he swallowed nervously.
He sure was good at reading this man’s expressions. For some reason he didn’t care about remembering.
Eventually, it was Saejima who spoke up to break the silence. “Do ya… do ya remember her?”
Majima frowned, confused. “Her?”
Saejima cleared his throat and straightened. He nodded towards Majima, indicating the dress he was wearing. “Yeah. The one the dress belongs to.”
Majima looked down at his own body briefly before looking back up to Saejima. There was a flash of an image at the back of his mind, of hostess clubs and fancy dinner dates, like a hazy memory trying to resurface. But it stayed in the muddy, murky waters of his amnesia, slipping away before becoming tangible. “No.”
Despite the fact that Saejima’s facial expression didn’t change, Majima could swear he could see that the man was disappointed with his answer. As if he had truly hoped for a different answer than the one he got.
Once again, Majima tried to think really hard about why he could read this guy so incredibly well despite not being able to remember him at all.
Saejima drew in a steadying breath, exhaling slowly before speaking. “Right. I’ll be goin’ then.” He started closing the door back up, and Majima felt the sudden urge to speak up. To keep Saejima there, regardless of the reason why.
“Who was she?” The words tumbled out before he could stop himself.
Saejima froze and opened the door back up to full. He gave Majima a long look, eyes shining with something that Majima couldn’t quite put words to, but made his chest ache a little all the same. “Goromi.”
Majima cocked a surprised eyebrow. “Haw?”
Saejima let his hand fall away from the handle and took a step further into the captain’s quarters, the door closing behind him with a quiet creak. “Her name - I mean, your name - is Goromi.”
“Goromi,” Majima repeated, trying it out. Nice name - it sounded good.
It definitely sounded good coming out of Saejima’s mouth.
“Tell me about her.”
Saejima’s facial muscles twitched in a show of rapidly changing emotions - surprise, grief, denial - until he finally lifted a hand to press it to the bridge of his nose. “Kyoudai, I-” His voice was deep and rough as he spoke, revealing that there were a lot more emotions under the surface than he wanted to show. Saejima drew in another deep, calming breath, and Majima watched him squeeze his eyes shut. “I can’t talk about this right now.”
Majima frowned. “What, now when I want to talk about things from the past, ya suddenly don’t want to? You’ve practically been beggin’ me to talk about shit from the past.” He squinted at Saejima, critical. “Who is she?”
Saejima sighed and walked further into the captain’s quarters, down the stairs separating the two parts of the room. He sank down in the red couch, right next to where Majima was standing. “Goromi is…” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand towards Majima, up and down. “... you . You are her. Dunno exactly how it works, and I don’t even know if ya know yerself, but… yeah.” He trailed off, as if unsure how to finish the sentence.
Majima let the words sink in for a moment. He turned back towards the mirror and mouthed the name quietly to himself as he let his gaze slide up and down his own body, admiring the dress. Then, he shifted his gaze so that it landed on the reflection of Saejima slightly behind him, and his stomach clenched at the way Saejima was looking at him.
He had that look on his face that he did when he thought that no one was watching. A look Majima realised meant that the two of them were something to each other that they hadn’t talked about yet. Something Majima was not ready to face yet. He shifted his gaze back to his own reflection, meeting his own gaze.
But maybe, just maybe, Goromi was.
“So… when ya said that ya don’t have a woman in yer life..?” Goromi trailed off as she turned around to face Saejima, who leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees. He chewed on his bottom lip and averted his gaze, looking at a spot on the floor. He suddenly looked a lot younger than the pushing 60 that Goromi had figured out must be his age. Another hazy memory resurfaced, one of Saejima looking much younger, with long hair and busted lip and a brilliant, wide smile.
“I wasn’t… exactly lyin’.”
“But ya weren’t exactly tellin’ the truth either.” Goromi’s voice was soft when she spoke.
Saejima looked up at her, his mouth pressed into a thin line. They looked at each other in silence for another long moment, the tension once again thick enough to cut with a knife.
“Yeah.”
“Saejima, I-” Goromi reached out to put her hand on Saejima’s arm, and Saejima reacted as if he’d been electrocuted. His eyes widened and he shot to his feet.
“Lemme get outta yer hair,” he muttered, refusing to look at Goromi. Before Goromi had the time to protest, Saejima had hurried up the stairs, torn the door open, and walked outside. Suddenly, Goromi found herself alone again, her chest aching. She looked at the closed doors leading out on the deck for a long while before she turned towards the mirror one final time.
She put her hand on her hip, cocked her hip to the side, and gave herself a winning smile.
“So… pirate queen Goromi, eh?”