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Rain.
It was December, yet it was raining.
Droplets accumulated against the tall windows of Tachibana’s penthouse, lurking above the busy city of Kamurocho—at least the part he owned, the part he controlled. The droplets eventually fall, racing each other at the pace of gravity to its eventual demise in some gutter or sewer system, much like most people at the top of the pyramid of wealth in Kamurocho. The columns between each window received a stream of water between the glass and the metal, Only those that cared enough would take notice of something so particular.
Kiryu’s shoes crunched against the wet asphalt of Kamurocho’s busy streets—busy with people. It’s rare that a car passes anywhere near the inner city, let alone where Kiryu walks. Taxis end up costing more than they should for how close they bring one to their destination, thus Kiryu walked in the cold December rain, approaching Tachibana’s penthouse. Kiryu attempted to look into the window—the grand one with a view of the entirety of Kamurocho, hoping to find Tachibana standing there, above him like the moon in the sky.
And there he was. Just as Kiryu expected.
Tachibana stared out into the city, a hell scape for anyone with morals and a desire to keep them. To the average person, be it a businessman or a hostess, it's a paradise born from one’s own diligent hard work and partial loyalty.
Loyalty can only get you so far in Kamurocho, only so far in this world, ultimately. Those who are loyal die in honor, but what is so honorable about dedication when eventually such honor is pulled from the soles of one’s feet? What is the point of putting one’s whole soul into a cause when the same could never be reciprocated equally? Tachibana could never stay loyal to an entity, be it a business or an ideal or a person. That’s not how the world works.
Thus, Tachibana found it spectacularly hypocritical staring down the street, waiting for Kiryu to arrive. He tried to spot him coming from Theatre Square, surveilling the area partially for any sign of the man in a grey suit, but the water droplets partially warped his view. Each drop one creates a false perspective of the world. It was as if it created its own world, a special one just for Tachibana to get lost in before he could see reality through the window. He could barely see anything. He almost gave up.
Until Tachibana spotted him, walking towards the entrance of his penthouse. He sighed in relief, turning his back to the window, knowing that he may be a hypocrite, but he surely knows when he is.
A ding could be heard from the hallway: Kiryu was approaching. Usually, Tachibana had Oda open the door for him, but that was no longer a possibility. Not after his battle with the Shibusawa family. Tachibana is not one to hold grudges, mostly because he gets his revenge before it can fester into a grudge. Oda got what he put into the world, but no more and no less.
Kiryu knocked on the wooden doors and waited for the locks to unlatch and open. Tachibana swung the left door open and smiled, “Good evening, Kiryu.”
Kiryu nodded, making his way inside, “The rain caught me on the way here.”
Tachibana looked closer at Kiryu’s suit, it was covered in dark grey splotches — just rainwater, except for one. A crimson line of irregularity embedded itself into Kiryu’s right sleeve. His eyebrow furrowed. He knew what happened. “You were attacked on the way here, weren’t you?”
“Hmm?” Kiryu glanced over to Tachibana, and then followed his gaze, “Oh, my sleeve. I got a nosebleed on the way here and couldn’t get tissues.”
“How did you get a nosebleed?” Tachibana continued his line of questioning.
“After I fought some men in black and beat up some bikers, I sneezed, which is when I started bleeding,” Kiryu explained, taking off his jacket, “Of all the times I never needed a pack of tissues and then the one time I do no one is outside a business to offer one.”
Tachibana chortled, of course the only scathe Kiryu gets from a fight is an unrelated nosebleed, “In that case, mind if I get that jacket washed for you by morning?” he asked, reaching out his left hand.
“Since you’re offering…” Kiryu hands the jacket off to Tachibana, resting it on his forearm, “Are there any dry cleaners open at this hour?” he asked, fixing some wrinkles on his crimson dress shirt.
“I have my ways,” Tachibana smiles, “I don’t think I need to elaborate,” he stares out into Theatre Square — just a sliver of the Kamurocho he owns. Gaudy lights pulsate at different intervals, people exit work and enter bars, radio towers from far away flicker, signaling to incoming planes that they are there and that they exist. Not many in the world can say the same, do the same.
“I would rather not know. I already know too much about the underbelly of Kamurocho,” Kiryu shook his head.
Tachiabana laughed again, “What makes you think that it has something to do with the criminal underworld? You are not the only one who needs to get his suits permed and pressed promptly in this city.”
“I never know with you,” Kiryu admits, approaching Tachibana, “Always somewhat unpredictable.”
“I have to be. The irony of complacency is that it leaves room for vulnerability,” Tachibana reasoned, setting Kiryu’s jacket aside on the couch, “Unpredictable is safer than not.”
Kiryu takes a good look at Tachibana when he says that. He gazes into his eyes and carefully admires his facial structure: round, soft, innocent. Of course no one would know what he has been through. Of course no one would know the kind of person he is. Of course he is the kind of person Kiryu takes an interest in. He looks like a good, upstanding man. That’s when Kiryu chortles, a rare sound coming from him.
“What’s so funny? Do you think I’m wrong? Please correct me if I am,” Tachibana replies, surprised by Kiryu’s out of character laugh.
“It’s nothing,” Kiryu tries to hold it in.
“It had to have been something if it warranted such a reaction from you,” Tachibana furrowed his brows a bit.
Kiryu sighed, he knew he couldn’t get out of this one without collateral, “You remind me of an animal.”
“Oh?” Tachiabana relaxes, “Many yakuza associate themselves with animals from the zodiac or from Japanese folklore, whether assigned to them by peers or a declaration of identity for themselves,” Tachibana reasoned, putting his finger to his chin, “What do you think I am?”
Kiryu froze. He was afraid that his answer was far too underwhelming than what Tachibana was expecting. He considers for a moment lying to him, but knowing Tachibana, he would press on. Kiryu couldn’t escape.
“A bunny.”
“A bunny?”
“A bunny.”
Tachibana stood in silence for a moment. A bunny? He asked himself. Of all the animals in the kingdom of animalia, the man he respected and considered more than a friend thought of him as a bunny.
He walked towards his window again, away from Kiryu. The window was shiny, the cleaners always did a great job keeping it that way. So much so, he could see his reflection whenever he stood in front of it — rain or shine. He took a look at himself, putting his left hand close to the glass.
“I’m sorry. That’s probably not what you wanted to hear,” Kiryu walked over to Tachibana, standing behind him and shaking his head.
Tachibana saw Kiryu in the glass and smiled, “Honestly, I didn’t have any animal in mind beforehand, so I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. But a bunny? Not even phrased as rabbit or a hare?” he laughed, “I suppose it makes sense. I was born in the year of the rabbit after all.”
Kiryu stared at Tachibana’s reflection through the window. He really did look like a bunny. Adorable, yet unpredictable. Kiryu couldn’t take it. He reached out his hand with hesitation, jolting back for a moment, deciding if he was really going to do it. He wanted to go against it for a moment, but ultimately followed through and grasped Tachibana’s hand to hold it.
Tachibana looked down towards his hand. Despite having lost it many years ago, there were times he could feel its ghost, a sort of tingle the day before it rains or when someone enters its proximity. Tachibana could feel the tingle and the pressure against his forearm, but not Kiryu’s warmth against his skin…or cold, Kiryu could be cold for all he knows.
“Kiryu,” Tachibana says with a bluntness, startling Kiryu for a moment.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that…none of this,” Kiryu apologized, retracting his grasp from Tachibana’s.
“No, no. Don’t apologize. I was going to ask if you wanted to switch hands. I can’t feel anything with that one.”
“Ah…” Kiryu vocalized, “I think I will,” he announced, moving to the left and holding his hand, moving his thumb around to feel the callouses and crevices residing on Tachibana’s palm and fingertips, “Better.”
“I think so too,” Tachibana looked into the window, less looking outside and more gazing at Kiryu, letting him massage his hand as they contemplated the night. “Why a bunny?”
Kiryu closed his eyes and faced down, “You are very likable, much like rabbits. I also think you’re…cute…like a bunny.”
“You think that I’m cute?” Tachibana repeated in disbelief, “I don’t think anyone has ever said that about me, let alone to my face,” he smiled, “I could say the same about you, Kiryu.”
“What?” Kiryu asked, befuddled.
“Your exterior is that of a seasoned Yakuza, but there is a sparkle in your eyes that captivates me every time. A part of me sees an innocence, someone naïve that, despite having seen the darkest parts of the world, still desires the best for it. I think that is…” Tachibana paused, he was getting flustered.
“Cute?” Kiryu finished his sentence, awaiting Tachibana’s response.
“Cute,” Tachibana looked away from the window of warped perspectives and landed his gaze at Kiryu, who had the same idea. They finally looked each other in the eye, admiring what made the other man beautiful. It was never about the shape of his face or the innocence in his eyes or the animal he is — it was about who he was deep down.
“It feels like I’m seeing you for the first time,” Kiryu noted as he began to face Tachibana, leaning in closer to him, still holding his hand.
“Hmm,” Tachibana gives a soft smile, leaning into Kiryu as well. Their foreheads meet, and then their noses. Tachibana squeezes Kiryu’s hand, “Then, tell me what this feels like.”
Tachibana turns his head and embeds his lips upon Kiryu’s, waiting for his response. Kiryu reciprocates, returning the pressure, but letting go of Tachibana’s hand to embrace him, his arms going around the rabbit-like man. They break the contact between their lips and return to the contact of their eyes.
“It feels…nice. Just right,” Kiryu smiles.
“This isn’t what I initially invited you for,” Tachibana grinned, “We were supposed to have dinner together and talk about your returning to the Dojima family,” he laughed, “I suppose we’ll have to put a rain check on that.”
“I may have ruined the mood for that,” Kiryu admitted, almost proud of himself.
“Good, I like these plans better,” Tachibana gave Kiryu another kiss.
They stood in front of the grand window for a while. Enough time for the rain to stop and for the droplets to clear the view of the city. For the first time, Kamurocho looked less like a hell scape and more like a place of prosperity. A place that Tachiabana may own out of spite and as a despairing effort to reunite with his sister, but a place he calls home — he and Kiryu.
It was no longer raining.
It was still December.
Rain drops from the halted rain can finally run its course. The tension builds up until it gives out and runs down the glass.
The two men had let go of each other many minutes ago and now they watch the city, mostly. Kiyu stared at the metal column between the windows, noticing the stream going down it. It was a useless factoid, but it mattered to him. It gave him no joy nor despair, it merely existed. Much like himself. Much like Tachibana. Much like everyone else in the world.