Adult Content Warning
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Summary
Majima turned his gaze on the only man left standing in the middle of it all, fist clutched around what he recognised as the left pedal of his poor, dismembered bike. There wasn’t a scratch on him. He wore a crisp, double-breasted white suit, paired with maybe one of the ugliest patterned shirts Majima had ever seen; he was young — Majima guessed early twenties — but his face wore a scowl that seemed years beyond his boyish features. Strong, sharp nose, and a better jawline than any of his sorry opponents put together. And, of course, the hottest thing of all — he could clearly hold his own in a fight.
“Man, ya could’ve grabbed any other damn bike off the street, huh?”
Majima crossed his arms in a show of annoyance, but his tone held no malice. To be totally fair, he had destroyed his own share of innocently parked bicycles during beat-downs, so he figured this evened things out a little. Karmic justice, or whatever. And at least God had wrapped it all up in a pretty face this time.
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Kiryu has a bad habit of smashing things. Majima thinks there's something else he could try smashing instead.