Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was your average evening in Kamurocho. Sight seers perused the warm streets as cliques chatted amongst themselves; barkers upsold tables at their clubs to unsuspecting randoms wanting a date, and least surprising of all, Kiryu was responding to another one of Nishida’s emails, this time asking for his help at one of the Majima family offices. 

Nishida had sent him a semi-panicked email about how something was wrong with the office—likely due to an evil spirit—and how the energy was so sour that no one would go inside. That little detail certainly had something to do with Majima’s scheme of the day, but there was no point predicting what it implied; he was never right when he guessed, anyway. Kiryu wasn’t sure why he was heading over in the first place, but he deemed it necessary. He walked down the street until he met the entrance. He mentally prepared himself for shenanigans as he walked through the door and up the dim stairwell.  

He made his way up the stairs, stepping carefully so as not to trip in the dark. When he made it to the top, he noticed the main office was no better. He felt for a light switch, which after a flick gave no light. A few more flicks proved fruitless. There was no sign of anyone, and it was cold.  

Now adjusted to the purple-dark, the place was clearly a mess; outlines of shreaded paper and crushed boxes scattered the floor. Desks were turned over and books laid flat as if flown from the wall; blinds were torn off the windows and sat crumpled in the mess. It looked like someone, or something, had put up a fight. He’d heard stories of poltergeists tearing up houses, but there’s no way that’s what did this; those were stories, after all. It could have just been a disagreement between customers that some associates forgot to clean up.  

But it was cold. In fact, it was freezing. On an evening as warm as this and with the power off, there was no possible way a room could be this cold. Maybe it was the low light, but the shadows on the wall were starting to form uncomfortable shapes. What was worse was, the second Kiryu made it to the top step, he knew he was near.  

Suddenly, a thunk came from the darkness with a whining creek.  

Kiryu’s eyes darted to the sound. The door to the primary office just a few steps ahead had peeked open. The sudden noise unsettled him more, but he knew where he had to go. Stepping through the dark mess, he pushed the rest of the door open to meet what was on the other side.  

The office was empty. There were no shadows of chairs or coffee tables, only the main desk that faced the door, barely illuminated by streetlamps leaking through the closed shutters. The atmosphere was starting to get to him. He swore that if Majima jumped out wearing a white sheet or something he would start swinging at full force—but there was nothing. Not a laugh, barely a smell, but he could feel… someone . A piece of paper, like an ofuda, sat quietly on the desk. He crept to inspect the most visible thing in the room. He assumed he had to read it with what little light there was.  

He strained his vision to make out the shapes. It didn’t look like Nishida’s handwriting, or anyone’s for that matter—it certainly read like it was written in the dark. It sort of looked like it said— 

“Gottcha!” A voice yelled.  

Hands suddenly gripped his sides. The force made him jump as a funny sensation rippled up his torso, forcing out a high-pitched yelp. Without thinking he spun around with a hook, nearly missing the attacker as they ducked below the swing. The lights magically flicked on, revealing who else but Majima, big smile and all.   

“Wow, didn’t think ya could jump that high!” He laughed. 

“What the hell?” Kiryu blurted. “Majima-san!” 

“The one an’ only!” Majima confirmed. He could hardly contain how proud of himself he was. “Got ya real good didn’t I, Kiryu-chan?” 

Kiryu glowered, mostly in an attempt to gain some composure. He really should have known better—of course that would happen in hindsight. Majima wasn’t above cheap scares like that (and he clearly revels in them). That very rude taze mocked Kiryu for how open he had left himself. He held his scowl, refusing to agree with him. 

Sensing the disdain, Majima decided to cute it up with a cock of his head. “Dawh, not happy to see me, Kiryu-chan?”  

“Sorry, I’m not keen on having a heart attack.” Kiryu said, unmoved. 

Majima didn’t mind the look nor the sound. He got the usual look he expected before getting thrown around, but he could sense that Kiryu was a little more than the usual amount of pissed he was when he saw him. He did just grab him from behind, but he had never looked this ready to punch this early. “A heart attack, jeez… We’re not that old yet.” Majima shook his head. 

Kiryu relaxed a bit before letting out an already exhausted sigh. “I know sneaking up behind me is one of your favorites, but this was a bit much, don’t you think? I had no clue who you could have been.” 

Majima knew that was immediate bullshit. Last he checked, Kiryu was always better at sniffing him out than he with him.   

“That’s interesting.” Majima challenged, hands on his hips. “Aren’t ya the one with ears like a hawk? Ya mean to tell me I did that good a job?”  

“Well, it was pitch black in here, and dead quiet.” Kiryu replied. “Maybe you’re getting too good at sneaking.” 

He would have been flattered by the remark if it wasn’t also bullshit. There was no way tearing up the office and cranking the AC to play pretend poltergeist was enough to make Kiryu that skittish. He would have gone to complaining about the man-made mess by now, but he was still mad about the scare.  

“Well, yer senses are pretty dull today, then. I’ve seen ya turn a corner when I was a’ hundred paces down the sidewalk.” Majima gesticulated with his hands as he spoke like Kiryu never known him before. “You never spook, like, at all… You feelin’ okay?” A brow lifted above his eyepatch.  

Kiryu was starting to feel like he was on trial. Truth was, he wasn’t just spooked. The grab he received was less a death grip and more like the playful poke of claws. When he made the hook, Majima’s fingers stayed close to his skin, brushing his waist as he twisted, and it tickled. A lot. He hadn’t felt something like that in a long time—it startled him more than the shout did. That tickly feeling still lingered and stole all his attention. He was trying to play it off, but he was anxious his rival knew exactly what he did to him. Not to mention that yelp… he hoped he wouldn’t remember that.  

“Yeah, well… You never put your hands on me before the fight either.” Kiryu replied.  

Majima knew Kiryu’s ticked off face, that it was unlike any other. This particular face, however, had something behind it. It looked like he hit a nerve, a special one, and Kiryu was trying to hide it. Why would he get all nervous if he didn’t have something to hide? Then Majima decided to test something.  

“Hold on a sec…” He said with narrowed eye.  

Kiryu looked puzzled. He started to say something. 

“Quiet… Don’t tell me…” Majima inched closer. 

He held still and watched. Without warning, Majima made a lighting quick poke at Kiryu's side, releasing a familiar yelp as he protected himself with his hand and arm. The dragon's eyes widened; he looked caught. Well, what a fun discovery this was.  

“Yer ticklish!” 

“I’m… what?” Oh shit.  

“C’mon, Kiryu-chan. I’ve never got ya that bad in all my time of being yer shadow. So, when I tapped ya, I musta hit a tickle spot!” The mad dog interpreted. All his suspicion had morphed into pure amusement.  

“Tch, you’re kidding me…” Kiryu shakily scoffed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard you say.”  

Majima found that hard to believe. “Really? Out of all the things I’ve said, that’s the most ridiculous?”  

“Hmm… well I guess you have said weirder…” Kiryu concurred.  

“Yeah, well I don’t keep track of—hey!” Majima said with an accusatory point. “Don’t change the subject! I barely touched ya and ya squeaked like a mouse!” 

He wasn’t trying to change the subject, but he certainly wished they weren’t talking about this right now. Unfortunately, Majima was good at deducing these kinds of things; the challenge would be convincing him otherwise now. 

“You grabbed me from behind, of course it startled me.” Kiryu argued. “Something like that would get anyone, especially in the dark.” His defensiveness was not helping his case.  

“That’s quite the defense for just only being spooked, dontcha think?” Majima said with a grin. Hands behind his back, he began sizing Kiryu up and invading his personal space. “Hmmmm?” 

The room felt like it shrunk. Majima was the last person in the world Kiryu wanted to know he was ticklish. That maniac would take advantage of any weakness possible if he could get a more interesting fight. It was hard enough to hide that time he decided to play officer pat-down. That devious look made Kiryu sweat, and he felt Majima’s breath shift the way it did when he was preparing to act. Recalling playfights with Nishiki as kids, he knew where this was heading. His face warmed, and his eyes met the wall.  

“W-well, I’m not ticklish, so…”  

“Then what’s with the red face?” Majima teased, sneer widening. “Ya look like a strawberry.”  

He wasn’t that red, but he certainly was now. 

Kiryu quickstepped away to the side, squaring his fists. “Fine! You want a fight? Then let’s get it over with.”  

This was just grand. Majima hadn’t seen Kiryu this flustered since he caught him buying naked men—correction, ‘martial arts’—DVDs at that horny video store. The original plan was a cheap spook to get the dander high, but this was a prime opportunity to try a new battle strategy. Instead of squaring up or grabbing his tanto, Majima began wiggling his fingers in a devious fashion.  

“Oh-ho-kay, big scary Kiryu-chan! Then come at me!” 

Majima arched his arms, still wiggling his digits with malcontent. Without his command, Kiryu crossed his arms over his stomach and sides in anticipation. It couldn’t have been more obvious where to strike. Majima made feint jabs at his barricade, making Kiryu flinch and protect himself more fiercely. He was not breaking his guard, and there was no way he was gonna let Majima near him now. 

Majima giggled venomously. “C’mon, Kiryu-chan! Hit me, hit me!!” 

His stupid giddy face was aggravating. Kiryu made two reckless strikes which Majima caught both in palms. Locked in each other’s grip, they pushed at their hands while stepping in circles trying to force the other off balance. Majima won the war with a shove, sending Kiryu fumbling back into the desk. He caught himself on the edge, leaving his arms apart and sides open.  

Bingo. In a flash, Majima flew under Kiryu’s jacket, grabbing his vulnerable sides with his gloved fingers and scratching them. Kiryu covered his mouth with a hand to shove down the ensuing chuckles. 

“He-hey! C-cut it ouhout!!” He protested.  

“What? I’m not doin’ anythin’!” Majima crooned. 

But he most certainly was. Kiryu gripped his shoulder with his free hand to push Majima off but that only made him dig in, releasing a burst of deep laughter as Kiryu’s knees buckled. Majima kept it coming as they sunk to the ground beside the officer’s desk. He scribbled the flesh under his silky red dress shirt, and Kiryu couldn’t help but chuckle and squirm.  

“What’s so funny? We’re fightin’, remember!” 

“Ahhahahahaha! Stahahahap ithithit, ahha—!” 

Kiryu tried to throw a punch but he couldn’t will his arms to move. They desperately tried to protect the rest of his body, but they failed—Majima had already wrestled his way under the barricade. His pokes and wiggles left the dragon defenseless, wobbling his nerves and forcing laughter from his core. 

“Whaaat? Givin’ up already? Nyhehehehe!”  

Majima caught his contagious laughter, cackling sadistically at the sorry state of his rival. He laughed nearly as much as him—though more evilly—and he wanted more. He slithered up Kiryu’s ribs which made him squirm even more. 

“Nohohohoahha— Majihima-sahahahahan— ! Ahahahahahaha—!”  

“Look at ya! Yer red up to the ears! Can’t the scary ‘Dragon a’ Dojima’ handle a li’l bit of ticklin’?” 

Trying to retort back against the crass taunt, Kiryu let out an unceremonious snort, which resonated perfectly through his laughter. Defying all odds, Majima’s grin became even more diabolical.  

“Pfft, what was that? Was that a snort!?” He said. “Dawh, my frigin’ heart’s meltin’ over how adorable ya are!” 

Kiryu shook his head in a failed attempt to hide his burning face. Heavy, wheezy laughter continued to shake his body. It was hard to tell if he was straight up screaming or not as his low baritone hiked up nearly two octaves to belt squeaky guffaws. He tried to roll over so he could just die, but Majima hopped onto his knees to keep him from rolling into a protective ball.  

In a new position, Majima decided to play a cruel game, rapidly switching between Kiryu’s sides, scrabbling up and down while chanting, “left, right, left, right!!” Causing the poor guy to worm side to side. The mad dog cackled wickedly, taking a downright evil sense of joy from the sight. He made a joke about calling him the ‘Worm of Dojima’ from then on.  

This foreign sound was the best gift Majima gave himself in a long time. The Dragon of Dojima was never known to smile, let alone titter at anything, yet here he was roaring with laughter, just for him. It felt good to give Kiryu something to smile about, even if it was against his will.   

“Ahahahahahaha! Mahajimahaha Plehehese!! Ihi-! I cahan’t—!!”   

Kiryu managed to slap his hand against the floor, begging for a break, and Majima stopped a moment.  

“Whew… This is a tough fight.” Majima taunted with mock exhaustion. “I’m really beggin’ fer mercy over here.”  

Kiryu coughed and panted. Tears were beginning to prick the corners of his eyes. He instinctively moved, but Majima already anticipated that and placed a hand on his gasping chest to keep him from lifting any further.  

The grin became crooked with a turn of his head as he taunted, “So, had enough yet?”  

Kiryu said nothing. Rage was starting to brew behind his eyes, which was hard to take seriously after the sight he just was.   

“I’ll tell ya what,” Majima continued. “If ya say I win, I’ll cut it out.”  

This was humiliating—a level of emasculating that only comes from being tickled by a nutcase for his own amusement. The joy he got from it, the plain cruelty, and the damn smug face made Kiryu want to tiger drop him right there, but that wasn’t happening—his legs were pinned, and he was too weak from laughter. He was more vulnerable with Majima now than he was comfortable with. In any other fight, he’d already be dead, but somehow, he felt safe. Maybe it was the lack of a knife in Majima’s hand, or rather, how his hand was poised against his chest. 

His palm only rested on his sternum, holding rather than pinning. Why the hell was he doing that? Then Kiryu realized: this was just another fight to him, and in his mad dog mind, he knew he was winning right now. He was giving Kiryu plenty of opportunity to toss him off and kick his ass. He knew he was playing cheap, and now he was trying to make things even.  

The oxygen deprivation must have gotten to his brain, Kiryu told himself, because he wanted to see what he’d do if he challenged him again. He wasn’t hurting him after all, in fact, he was doing the complete opposite. His body felt uncomfortable from the spasms, but a faint, pleasant feeling lingered in his stomach, the kind that only comes from a good, hearty laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed this hard, or even smiled until it hurt. Of all the things Majima could do to him, this wasn’t so bad.   

“Yeah, right… like I’d let you win that easy." Kiryu huffed.  

“Suit yerself!” 

With no mercy, Majima dove for Kiryu’s stomach, and he screamed. His voice cracked as he shrieked. He immediately regretted not kicking his ass.  

“Eeeeyaaahaaaa—!”  

“Yowzah, Kiryu-chan, didn’t know ya could hit notes that high!” 

Then he decided to dance his hands across his torso venture all over to cover as much ground as possible, which made the pillar of masculinity crumble even more than he thought possible.  

“Say uncle! Say I win!”  

“AHHAHAHA! NOHOHO NEHEHEHEVER—! AHAAA”  

“Oh, really now?” 

Kiryu’s resolve prompted Majima to jam his fingers up Kiryu’s armpits, making his head jerk back with another, more intense scream. He clamped his arms down in defense, trapping Majima's hands, which sent cruel vibrations into his flesh. Kiryu bucked and kicked his legs, making a noise akin to a dying engine, as every move failed to make it bearable, but he didn’t break. He was determined not to lose even if it meant dying from laughter. 

This was getting a bit ridiculous. Majima was so determined to win but now he just felt bad for going overboard. It was likely a matter of a few more finger wiggles before Kiryu was close to actually passing out. His smile twisted into pain, and the tears were flowing in streams down his face. Such a feat of determination was admirable, but that iron resolve of his wasn’t doing him any favors; showed Majima for trying to best him at an admittedly weird and childish game. Majima stopped wiggling, and Kiryu relaxed enough for Majima to free his hands from under his arms.  

Kiryu gasped for air. He laid limp on the floor, finally free from the torment, arms laying over his thoroughly assaulted stomach and torso. The lingering sensation riddled his skin, feeling as if the touches reached his bones during the last onslaught. He felt a twinge in his diaphragm—unhappy muscles from lack of use protesting as he wheezed. Majima lifted himself off of Kiryu.  

“Welp, I think that’ll do it.” Majima said with a dust of his hands. “Put up a real fight, ya did, but I think it’s clear who’s the winner a’ this one.”  

Kiryu grabbed hold of the edge of the desk to hoist himself up. This had to be a joke. First, he exploits quite possibly the most embarrassing weakness a man could have whilst he taunts him ruthlessly, then declares he won when he clearly never surrendered?! Majima swung first, time for Kiryu to swing back.  

“We’re not done.”  

“Haw?” Majima turned to face him.   

Kiryu grabbed Majima by the lapels, lifting him up into the air above his head.  

“Hey! The hell are ya doin’?” Majima protested as he was spun to face the office door. 

With all his freshly acquired heat, Kiryu slammed Majima face down like a rag doll, and wasting no time nor thought, Kiryu met his knees to the floor, straddling Majima’s hips while holding him down by the elbows. Majima struggled in confusion; half his face pressed into the floor as he tried to pry himself out from under the very pissed off dragon. When he wouldn’t budge, he reserved his fate to being squished, and he halted.   

“This wasn’t how I expected ya to be on topa’ me tonight…” He strained. “Feelin’ kinky now, huh?” That stupid face had returned.  

“Shut it.” Kiryu growled. 

He was hoping that little comment would gross him out enough to get Kiryu off, but it only seemed to make it worse as he felt more weight press onto him. The compression was not comforting.  

“What’s the big idea? Yer makin’ me claustrophobic…” Majima strained again.  

Kiryu knitted his brows. He expected a bigger struggle than that—but maybe he knew it’d be worse to fight it.  

“That was pretty low of you. I hope you’re proud of yourself after that.” Kiryu scolded. 

“What? Fer letting ya win?” 

No, asshole… Kiryu thought to say but didn’t. “No… For using such a dirty tactic.” 

“Oh, yeah. That” Majima recalled. “I can see yer still mad about that.” 

Playing dirty and stupid wasn’t on Kiryu’s Majima bingo card today, but he was certainly on his way to winning something.  

“I don’t always know what to expect from you, but I at least know that something like… that… is unusual.” Kiryu said, firmly maintaining his hold. “You’re not the type to play dirty on purpose.” Majima readjusted his head and body, which Kiryu gave little leeway to do so. It also served as a test of the integrity of his trap, and yep, he was fucking stuck. 

“Well, if ya really knew me, Kiryu-chan,” Majima said with a factual tone. “Then ya’d also know that I’m ruthless.”  

He continued, his words holding that lilt of pride so typical of him. “If I wanna fight, then I’ll get it. If I want a more interesting one—which, of course I’m always itchin’ for—then I’ll get it. So, when I hear ya shriek like a girl and get all panic-y when I get close to ya, then y’know I’m gonna find a way to push ya to yer limit!” He gesticulated again as much as he could with his wrists as he spoke. “What d’ya think I follow you around for?” 

Kiryu’s grip loosened just slightly. He was right; his primary objective has always been to challenge him—and to help him get his groove back, as it were. This wasn’t just a case of Majima getting handsy just to be weird, in fact, this was yet another lesson that he needed to be prepared for anything. Kiryu could count on Majima to test his limits, yes, but he was reminded that he could be counted on to test his patience as well. For better or worse—which at the current moment no longer mattered. It was strange to hear Majima flat out explain how he worked for once, though.  

“Fine. But that doesn’t excuse it.” Kiryu rebutted. His grip returned to its previous tension. “You declared that you won, but I never said I lost. You just got bored of me.” 

This was quite the choice position they were in now: Kiryu pinning Majima down to scold him for his greediness. He was having so much fun hearing that laugh and seeing that smile, he’d forgotten that oh right, being tickled feels like hell. He figured he’d went too far but never conceived that Kiryu would be this sore about it. He really felt like an ass this time, especially with the poorly vacuumed carpet currently leaving an imprint on his face.  

“Well, we’re not gonna have a fair tussle now with you squishin’ me into the floor with yer crotch.” Majima said. He performed a struggle for emphasis, and to see if he’d be let go now, but no dice. 

That was when Kiryu got an idea.  

“You’re right,” He agreed. “So, while I’m here, I’ll just have to make you admit defeat.” 

Majima then remembered the eternally sacred, universal rule of tickle wrestling. That being: tit for tat. The muscles at his sides started to tense under fear of ambush, and he was suddenly very aware of his ribs. He felt Kiryu’s hands release his elbows. 

“Waitwaitwait! Don’t do that!” Majima shouted.  

“Why not…?” 

“B-because…Well…” Majima stammered. “I’m not ticklish.” 

Suddenly, the one who lived and died by tit for tat wasn’t interested in receiving his dues.  

“Really?” 

“Yes!” 

“Not even a little?” 

“Not in the least bit!!” 

That was odd. Why did he assume he was going to tickle him? 

“Majima-san… If I’m ticklish, there’s no way you’re not.” 

“Well, I ain’t!” Majima spat. “An’ that’s the truth!” 

He knew he really was, but what kind of argument do you propose to that? None, really. He could hardly recall what being tickled felt like, but he wasn’t itching to remember, especially not right now. But what good was delaying it with his ass practically betwixt Kiryu’s thighs? He didn’t know how the hell he’d get out of this, but he subdued any new impulse to squirm for fear of being found out. Flat on his stomach, he anticipated the worst—Kiryu had easy access to his worst spots. 

“I’ll be the judge of that.”  

Kiryu flipped up the back of his snakeskin jacket, folding it up to his shoulders, revealing the hannya’s sneer but concealing her glare.  

“Hey, look, I’m sorry, okay. Ya got me on the ground, now can ya get offa me?” Nervousness dripping his words as he pleaded. “Pretty please??” 

“If you’re not ticklish, then why are you pleading with me?” Kiryu said with a discerning hum. “Wouldn’t someone who really wasn’t ticklish have no problem proving it?” 

Damn, he got me… I’m fucked! Majima thought calmly.    

“Well, ya see…. ehrm…” 

Kiryu began tickling Majima’s ribs. Majima grit his teeth to keep his mouth shut, but laughter soon began bubbling out.  

“Nyehehehehehe!” He giggled. “Ge-gehit yer hahands offaha mehe-!”  

Kiryu scoffed. “Come on, I’m barely touching you.”  

Kiryu chose to be gentler than he was with him, laddering up and down beside his inked back as his nails did the job. 

“Noho yeher nohot, ya asshahahat!!”   

 “I’m sorry, what was that?”  

Majima giggled some more before cobbling the words. “ I sahaid yer an asshaha— AHAA—!!”  

Kiryu didn’t like the attitude and took it as a dare to scribble faster, and Majima squeaked like a hyena on nitrous oxide. He wiggled and squawked with laughter as fingers crawled up and down his bare ribs. 

"Eeehehehefuhuhhuck—! Eehehehehehehehe!”  

“What’s wrong, Majima-san, I thought you weren’t ticklish?” Kiryu could feel an evil smile pull at his cheek.  

“Nyeheheheheheh—! Fu-fuhuck yohouhou—! Ahhahahahehehehe!!”   

Majima cursed all manner of expletives; shaky interjections of fucks and shits, before lapsing back into giggles. His arms were paralyzed from the sensation, but the rest of him twitched as much as the man on his back would allow without letting him escape. 

Kiryu was already having too much fun. Every scratch of fingers was like a switch that dispensed laughter. He wondered why in all the years of hitting him he never tried to tickle him. He quicky knew the answer to that, though--but maybe he could have gotten out of a few fights if he attempted it sooner. Here he was now, and starting to get bored of his ribs. He lightly crept onto inked skin.  

“Noho, ahha! Ya dahmn perveherhert, gehit offa my bahack!” Majima protested.  

Kiryu scurried shapes up and around his back, dancing on the intricate dark swirls and red flowers, every movement making his rival cackle and twitch. He could do this for hours. Kiryu pondered how for a fully tatted yakuza, Majima sure had a sensitive back.  

The touches set off Majima’s nerves and now anywhere Kiryu skittered felt as sensitive as his ribs. Fuck, why was he being so gentle? He barely flinched at pin-pricks when he got his back done, but dull nails running up and down the skin was driving him insane. He craved sharp pokes, or at least anything reminiscent of a punch or kick again. Twisting and struggling only made things worse, as he was only held closer to the instruments of torment.  

Being so close to his back made Kiryu want to experiment. He lingered on his spine before wiggling under his coat between his shoulder blades, spidering down the Hannya’s face from her forehead to her nose, and Majima arched backwards like a ticklish fish.  

“Eeeheeeek!! Ahhhahaheheheheeeee—!!”  

Kiryu knew that would get him. Nobody ever has a fun time when the needle hits the spine, and it appears the same with fingers. He was sounding more like a siren than his usually cocky self now, and he was turning red enough to match.  

Majima was starting to laugh with an uncomfortable wheeze, and Kiryu could tell he needed a break. Kiryu halted his attack for a moment, and Majima coughed and gasped until his breath returned to somewhat normal.  

Kiryu held back a chuckle of his own. “So, had enough yet?”  

“No, sweetheart~” Majima said in a feigned honey tone, which quickly morphed into pissed. “Yes I’ve had a-fucking-ough!”  

“Well, if you want me to stop,” Kiryu bargained as he held his elbows down again. “Then you’ll have to say I win.”  

Majima’s chest ached from laughing into the floor, and sweat was beginning to hit his brow. He seriously hoped that no one would come walking in to inspect what they were doing right at this very moment. The gentle touches were starting to hurt his pride knowing he’d been through worse kinds of torture. At least he could catch his breath, which assured him he wasn’t being squished to death while also being humiliated. Good thing he wasn’t, but that was strange.  

That weirdo—Kiryu was having fun putting him in stitches. He was taunting him, holding him down enough to squirm but not enough to make him immobile. Majima realized that if he rolled hard enough, he could free himself to potentially rock Kiryu’s shit, among other acts of violence. That was if he really wanted to.   

But he did deserve this. Besides, a laugh this hard doesn’t come everyday—much less from anyone special—he’d rather it be from Kiryu. His felt exhilarated, much like he did after a good scrap. He wanted another round. Ah hell… he was having fun, too. 

“ He-hell no! Fuck off!” Majima barked, “I swear, when ya get finally offa my ass I’m gonna ki—!" 

Before he could finish his threat, Kiryu set his attack on the gaps between his ribs, poking and prodding with vigorous intent, and Majima fell apart.  

“K-k-k-keheheheheek—!!” He squeaked. “Kihihiru-chahaaaan!! Ahahahaha-I’hll kihill youhoho-!!”  

Any effort to look hostile was ruined by his aching smile and flushed ears. He bucked his legs hoping to land a blind hit on Kiryu’s back, but he was just out of reach. 

Kiryu felt the smirk pull his face more, which he chided himself for, but couldn’t help but feel good about such sweet revenge. He bet he sure was sorry for being so ruthless, now. He could tell that Majima was always trying to look cool in front of him, but but there was no hope for that now with him giggling like a stereotypical schoolgirl, though a significantly deadlier one. 

It was strange, really. When Majima wasn’t cackling from the joys of violence, his giggles were rather endearing. In fact, they were adorable, minus the profanity.  

In the time it would have taken for Majima to actually kill him, Kiryu made a sudden dive for the soft flesh at his waist and began kneading it like dough. 

"AHHAAAAAAA! EEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEE! YEHERHER SOHOHO DEHEAD—!!!”  

The attack urged his arms to move, they snapped to his sides to protect and lessen the sensation, but he instead got a taste of what he gave Kiryu moments ago as it forced fingers deeper into the skin. The sensation was so much that he could do nothing but kick legs as his shrieks desperate shrieks bounced off the walls.  

As cathartic as this was for Kiryu, he could tell this was getting to be a bit much. Majima was sounding like he truly lost his mind, but hadn’t made a single wheeze of true defeat. Damn lunatic was as stubborn as he was...

Kiryu needed him to give up or he was going to pass out. Majima wouldn’t give up until he was out of commission or getting close to it; Kiryu rather he not lose consciousness to make that happen. Kiryu halted, giving Majima a much needed chance to breathe while he strategized. Too weak from laughter, Majima made no attempt to escape, going limp to cough up a lung and until he could breath normal again.  

Then Kiryu remembered something. He noticed when he was on the floor that Majima had no boots on, likely to make him harder to detect in the dark. His socked feet were out in the open. It seemed like a gamble, but it was his best shot. Kiryu lifted himself up.  

“Ahh, finally tired of tormentin’ me, eh…? Guess that means I won.” Majima said triumphantly.  

He sounded sure of himself, like he had truly braved the worst of it. Thankfully that ended without too much embarrassment. He sighed knowing he was victorious, but was quickly filled with horror when he felt Kiryu rest on his back again before taking a firm grip of his ankle.  

Majima strained his knee to keep it from bending back, grunting as Kiryu pulled, but it was commanded to bend. He tried to claw away but was no use. The steel-tipped boots were more than a fashion statement; his feet were unbearably ticklish.  

“No-no-no-no-no! Not the feet, please!" Majima pleaded.  

Exactly what Kiryu needed to hear.  

“AIEEEEEHEEE—!!!”  

Majima howled as Kiryu struck and scribbled mercilessly. Kiryu was used to making him scream, but he never heard him make a sound like this. What little of his sanity he had was totally gone. His toes white knuckled as he couldn’t muster force to pull himself free. He hopelessly wrapped his arms around his head while trying to bury his screams into the floor. Smirking with satisfaction was far from Kiryu’s mind, because he really sounded like he lost it, or was possessed or... something. At least he wasn’t in pain.  

But it was worse than pain. It was like pushing a button that overrode his wits; a sensation akin to a taser frying an electrical grid. His writhing only made Kiryu grip tighter and scribble faster on his soles. This time when he squirmed, Kiryu gave him no room to escape—he meant business. It wasn’t worth it; If he didn’t admit defeat now, dying sure has hell would.  

“STAHAHAHAPIT, DAHAMIT—! I GIHIHIVE AHAP!! YA WIIIIIN!!!”  

“Say you won’t kill me either.” Kiryu ordered. 

“WHA-HAT?!”  What the fuck, man? 

“Say you won’t kill me, an—" 

“FINE—FIHINE!! I WON’T KILL YOU—!!! AHHAAA!!!”  

And with that resounding surrender, Kiryu ceased his attack. He let go of Majima’s ankle, and it flopped to the ground. He lifted himself off his rival’s legs. Majima rolled to the side with the bad eye. He panted and gasped to reach a normal breathing tempo again, now much more comfortable with the lack of pressure. He looked disheveled, but he’d gotten his fair fight, and Kiryu could tell he was far from disappointed.  

It was funny—Kiryu had seen Majima beaten, battered and bloodied, but he’d never seen him so whipped out after a fight. Kiryu figured he doled out enough embarrassment, at least equal to what he received. He reached his hand out to him. 

Sensing a hand, Majima opened his eye to look. He chuckled. 

“What’s funny this time?” Kiryu sighed.  

“Nothin’, nothin’.” Majima waved. “Just never thought you’d be helpin’ me up after I lost a tickle fight.” He met his hand to his, and Kiryu pulled him up. There was no doubt he was already back to his usual spirits.  

Now they were both vertical, and they had to remember what kind of fight they just had. Majima was still screaming internally from the sounds he made, and that he could still feel Kiryu all over his skin. Kiryu was still trying to reconcile the fact that he just touched Majima’s feet. He did what he had to do, but still… his hands will never be the same.   

Kiryu cleared his throat before releasing his hand. “Well, that was rather uncouth.” He finally said. 

“I’m gonna have ta' agree with ya,” Majima replied. “I've thought up some strange setups, but I'd never plan for somethin' like that.” 

“I’m not surprised.” Kiryu said. “Goes to show there’s a first time for everything, I guess.” 

“Shit if that ain’t true.” Majima concurred. He dusted himself off and readjusted his jacket. “Sure hope no one was nearby to hear all that. Don’t think anyone would ever let us live that one down.” 

“Let’s hope so.” Kiryu said. Knowing his luck, he knew that Worm of Dojima bit would catch on too well if it ever got out.  

“An’ I know what yer thinkin’, but I won’t use that to my advantage.” Majima said. “What happened in here in stays here.” 

“Really?”  

“Well, yeah. Could ya imagine the looks we’d get? Two grown-ass men ticklin’ each other in the street?” Majima shook his head as he mused. 

“Would it be any different from the looks we already get?” Kiryu asked earnestly. 

“You know what I mean…” Majima waved. “So, I won’t use the knowledge of yer ticklish-ness in any future fights.” 

He’d never admit it, but Kiryu was relieved to hear that. Majima often toed the line between pugnacious sadist and total freak, but the man still had sense. Kiryu had noticed that Majima rarely gave anyone grace but him, as he often took a ‘strike-down-all-who-get-in-my-way-and-do-it-as-flashy-as-possible’ approach, which often meant the truest definition of no mercy. But he was clearly his favorite sparring partner. He pushes him to his limit, and pulls back when he knows he's being too much; they grow stronger after every battle in a way that petty street scuffles could never provide. He's always on about how he’ll be the one to kill him some day, but they both know that’s never going to happen. Yeah, he’s annoying and messes with him all the time, but you couldn't find Majima's kind of fun anywhere—that special zing that most fights could never have, nor often never dare, to include.  

It's rare for a tussle to be entirely fun, though, and this was a rare exception. There was always a sense of satisfaction Kiryu felt from understanding Majima a little deeper.  

Lost in thought, Kiryu had neglected his friend's waiting expression. He looked like he was awaiting a reply. 

“Well?” Majima said. 

“What?” Kiryu asked. 

“Ya gotta promise me now!” 

 “What? That I won’t tickle you again?” Kiryu scoffed.

“Uh, yeah duh! That way we’re even-stevens.” 

“Hmm, I dunno.” Kiryu crossed his arms. “You were pretty ruthless with me. Who’s to say I won’t keep this knowledge in my back pocket for just the right moment.' He could hear a devious tone within his words. "You do make it easy to pull given your fashion choices.”  

Majima’s eye widened. He wasn’t just threating that he’d aim for his soft spots in the middle of the street, was he? This was so out of left field for the Kiryu-chan that he knew, as he was expecting him to simply agree to do the same. He couldn’t believe it; this legendary pillar of masculine virtue what kept him in check was being a bit bad.   

“Kiryu-chan…” Majima said with a gasp. “I can’t believe it.” 

Kiryu hardly noticed what he had said until Majima’s low voice made him really think about it. He didn’t really intend to add it to his list of moves. He was sure he wasn’t still sore—extremely certain, actually—but such an act done to one doesn’t go quickly forgotten. It was a valid battle strategy, after all, wouldn’t Majima of all people appreciate that? He couldn’t help it was just so effective. With all the tormenting Majima does to him it’s only fair. Now he feared he just made himself look like a creep. 

“I thought I knew ya, but I guess I don’t…” Majima said to the floor in a grim tone, hands on his hips. “The Honorable Dragon: a fan of ticklin’ the Mad Dog…” 

How the hell did he come to that conclusion? The accusation made Kiryu almost turn red again and he started to speak, but got no chance as Majima suddenly beamed.  

“I love it!!” He chimed with a clap. 

Kiryu relaxed. Classic Majima—predictably unpredictable. 

Majima chuckled again. “Man, with all that virtue and straight-and-narrow path yer on about, I never imagined ya had such a sadistic yet squishy side to ya!”   

“Uhh, I won’t… actually, I was just…” Kiryu stammered. “Never mind…” 

Majima got a kick out of his embarrassed look; any chance to get something other than that stone cold spartan gaze never got old. That fight was weird—really weird—but a nice change of pace from the broken noses and bicycles. In fact, the unexpected playful battle was a fun test of will. Hell, in a sweeter context, he wouldn’t mind it again, but that was a kinda weird but enticing intrusive thought to ponder later, as the joy of learning something new about his Kiryu-chan eclipsed any other thought.  

“We both learned somethin’ about each other today: you found out I was ticklish, and I found out ya like to tickle me.” Majima jeered.  

That was not the case, but Kiryu refrained from defending himself again because he saw where that got him today. Majima sensed his embarrassment and gently put a hand to his shoulder. 

“Hey. It’ll be our little secret.”  

His tone was genuine. Kiryu’s Majima-to-normal person translator told him, ‘We’re square.'  

“Fine by me.” Kiryu replied with a thin smile as he put a hand to Majima’s shoulder, too.  

“But no, seriously, ya do that again and I’m actually killing you.” Majima stated abruptly.  

“Heh, same here.” Kiryu agreed, knowing full well his friend didn’t mean it. After all, he knew he’d certainly die of boredom within a day.  

End.