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Saejima never took moments like these for granted. Propped up in a comfortable bed, wearing clean underwear, reading a book he'd never read before. Not just because of the decades he had spent without these simple luxuries, but because he knew these moments never lasted long.
"Oi, kyoudai? What day is it?"
Saejima glanced up from his book as Majima shouted at him from the bathroom.
"Wednesday," he shouted back.
For a moment, the calm evening silence that he had been enjoying returned, and so Saejima returned to his reading as well. Then, a loud thud accompanied by a muffled curse. The sink squeaked on and off.
Saejima retrieved his bookmark from the nightstand and carefully slotted it into his page before closing the book in his lap. He'd been aiming to finish the chapter before bed tonight but his gut told him to pack it in early. Sure enough:
"No, not - fuck - not the day, I said the date!"
Saejima began counting backwards in his head. Their monthly patriarch meeting had been last Friday, which was the fifteenth, he remembered. They'd gone out for pizza afterwards and Majima had laughed at him for eating too quickly and burning the roof of his mouth; that was, until Majima had dropped a big gob of tomato sauce on his shirt. "Is this why you don't wear shirts anymore, kyoudai?" Saejima had teased.
"Twentieth," he replied.
More cursing. Saejima took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out.
Finally, Majima emerged from the bathroom, roughly toweling his hair dry. He wore only a ratty pair of boxers, those camo green ones with the holes in them. They'd somehow gotten even worse since the last time he'd worn them, the rips in the fabric now stretched open enough for pale skin and black swirls to peek through.
"Can't believe he didn't send the goddamn reminder," Majima muttered. He dropped the towel to the floor and flung the bedsheets around wildly until he found where he'd left his phone buried in them. "Last fuckin' straw, I swear. Gotta get me a new Nishida."
Saejima raised an eyebrow.
"Somethin' the matter?" he asked slowly.
Majima stared at him impassively while he held the phone to his ear, jaw twitching. Saejima shuffled to straighten himself up a bit more from where he had been lounging on the bed. The tinny ringing abruptly stopped and a small voice answered on the other end.
As Majima began screeching at Nishida over the phone, Saejima idly studied the back cover of his book. He wasn't normally into genre fiction but something about this series drew him in. A young detective being pulled into the criminal underworld by a mysterious femme fatale; it found a nice balance between escapism and something he could relate to.
"Whaddya mean 'I asked you'?! Ya - ya don't think I'd remember - no, I did not tell ya to 'fuck off about the fuckin' spa day', I -"
If today was the twentieth, Saejima realized, it was due back at the library tomorrow. He still had a good fifty pages to go.
"Okay, okay, so maybe I did. So maybe I did! But ya shoulda known better -"
Maybe he could renew online. He'd have to ask Majima how that sort of thing worked.
"Yeah, okay, don't 'oyaji' me. Fuckin' bozo. See ya tomorrow."
Majima sighed as he snapped his phone shut.
"Spa day's tomorrow," he grumbled, crawling into bed.
"Sounds nice," said Saejima.
"It's a nightmare, is what it is," Majima replied.
Saejima knew Majima was waiting for him to ask, so he made him wait just a little longer.
"What's spa day?" he relented after watching his bro squirm for a few seconds.
"Whaddya think?" asked Majima.
Saejima didn't feel that was a question worth answering, so he didn't, instead reaching to set his book and his reading glasses on the side table.
"Okay," Majima puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled. "It's this thing I put together once a year for some of the boys. Like a, whatsit, esprit de corps thing."
"Ya take 'em to a spa?"
"Look, I didn't think they'd like it so much," Majima protested, poking Saejima in the side. "Few years back, I told 'em that if they could make us the top earning family for the year, I'd take the lucky sonsabitches to get mani pedis."
"Ya didn't think they could do it."
"No, I didn't think they could do it."
Saejima adjusted a stray lock of Majima's hair where it had fallen the wrong way. It was still damp from his shower and the way the scent of his leave-in conditioner was becoming familiar brought a wave of fondness crashing through his chest.
"But they did do it."
"Yeah, bro, they did do it," Majima continued, irritated. "So I took the captains and whichever boys they thought deserved it, found a place that wouldn't mind a bunch of yakuza running around, and, well..."
"You took the lucky sonsabitches to get mani pedis," Saejima finished, chuckling.
"Now it's turned into an annual thing."
"It does seem to do some good, at least," Majima admitted. "If my boys ain't feelin' their best, then they ain't performin' their best. 'The body is a machine' an' all that. Gotta do proper maintenance, get it - uh, oiled up and...parts repaired...fuck, whatever ya do to machines to get 'em to work right."
"Reckon that makes sense," Saejima admitted, smiling.
"Yeah, well, it'd do a cranky old man like you a world of good."
Majima froze, narrowing his eye at Saejima in that way that always preceded some dumbass idea. "Hey, kyoudai..."
There it was.
"Rules are pretty strict, no plus-ones allowed and the guy in charge is a real hardass, but..." He stretched the word out farther than it had any right to be stretched. "I could pull a few strings to getcha in."
"Thanks, kyoudai, but I'll pass."
If looks could kill.
"Haw?"
"It just don't seem right. All that fancy stuff, it ain't for me."
Majima studied him for a moment.
"Ya don't think ya deserve it," he said flatly.
"Well," Saejima stuttered. "Well, yeah."
"Kyoudai," said Majima, sidling closer to him. He started to play with a loose strand of Saejima's hair. "Yer fresh outta prison. Yer a shiny new patriarch. I wanna show ya off a little, okay?"
Saejima glanced away from Majima's burning stare, but said nothing.
"I want my boys to get ta know you," Majima continued, more seriously. "Yer gonna be around a lot now so I want 'em to be comfortable around you."
Saejima let his next protestation die in his throat. That was a more compelling argument. In the handful of months since the Saejima family had been established, he had been busy getting to know his own recruits, setting up a leadership structure, familiarizing himself with his territories - tasks that mainly had him keeping his head down and his focus narrowed internally. Now that his workload was finally settling into a manageable cadence, it would probably be beneficial to take an interest in what was going on within the rest of the Tojo Clan. He realized, with a pang of embarrassment, that he could barely name all the other patriarchs, let alone claim to have spoken more than a handful of words to each of them.
He'd heard himself referred to as the Mad Dog's kyoudai more than by his actual name.
He'd seen the looks he got from the other patriarchs - the younger ones, mostly - with words like 'nepotism' and 'undeserved' thrown around. Not that he would necessarily disagree, but it was the way these men would rather gossip about it behind his back than give him a chance face to face. Which was a two-way street, he supposed.
Becoming more familiar with the family immediately in front of him could be a good start.
Saejima glanced up in time to catch one of Majima's smug little smiles. He knew he'd got him, the bastard.
"Ya don't got somethin' better to do tomorrow, do ya?" The kill shot.
Saejima glanced longingly at his library book.
"Fine," he capitulated. "But ya owe me one."
Majima did a very enthusiastic fist pump, then immediately cringed at himself.
Maybe this could be a good opportunity for Saejima. Maybe he'd even learn a thing or two from his kyoudai, a thought which grew doubtful when his gaze dropped to Majima’s boxers.
He stuck a finger through one of the holes in Majima's underwear.
"Isnt it about time ya dumped those old shorts?"
"Then get rid of 'em for me," Majima purred into his neck.
So he did.
—
They set out early the next day, far earlier than Saejima would have imagined anyone in the Majima Family would willingly join them on their day off. He knew his kyoudai was a morning person but that was a rare trait in the yakuza - and in Kamurocho in general.
Their destination was in a nondescript building just off Park Boulevard, on the second floor.
"Why're ya carryin' that?" Majima asked, as they walked up, finally noticing the book tucked under Saejima's arm.
"Isn't that whatcha do at this kinda thing? Sit n' relax n' read?" As he spoke, he realized that what he was describing sounded nothing like what his kyoudai would voluntarily put himself through every year.
Majima rolled his eye but his focus shifted as they arrived at their destination.
Nishida and Minami were already waiting outside, Minami laughing about something and Nishida smiling around his cigarette.
"Gotta run in real quick to dot the i's," Majima told Saejima, as both his captains gave an exuberant greeting. Majima strode past them and into the building as if he hadn't noticed them at all. Saejima hesitated, feeling childish as he fought the impulse to follow his kyoudai so that he wouldn't be trapped making small talk.
"Morning, Saejima-san," chirped Nishida.
Saejima grunted in response.
Nishida squirmed as silence fell. Then, his eyes lit up as he turned to his companion.
"Oh! Saejima-san, this is Minami-san! He's one of the other captains, I don't know if you've been introduced yet!"
"We, uh, we - we've met, yeah," Minami mumbled. He nervously twisted one of the studs on his eyebrow.
Nishida deflated slightly.
Saejima stared at him until it occurred to him that this was probably a very rude thing to do.
"Good trick ya got there, with the fire an' all that," he told Minami.
"Oh! Thank you, sir!"
Nishida nudged Minami encouragingly with an elbow, and Minami nodded with a huge grin.
More men began to gather on the sidewalk outside the facility. As they arrived, Nishida checked them off a list he held on a clipboard. It all felt vaguely reminiscent of the time Saejima had chaperoned Yasuko and her classmates on a field trip; except instead of a gaggle of middle schoolers giggling it was a group of yakuza loitering and smoking.
After about twenty minutes, all the names had been crossed out and Majima emerged from the building. Saejima was fascinated by the way he immediately drew everyone's attention; the idle chatter didn't die down but something shifted, like Majima had brought with him a new center of gravity.
Majima stood next to Saejima, leaning into him slightly while Nishida double-checked his counts. He inhaled like he was about to say something to Nishida and made a strange, aborted gesture with his arm, but hesitated upon glancing up at Saejima. Saejima frowned, not sure what to make of it, but Majima was already staring fixedly out into the crowd, his attention somewhere far away.
Once Nishida was satisfied with attendance, he nodded at Majima.
"Alright assholes," Majima announced, silencing the crowd. "Here's the deal. I don't wanna hear about anyone hasslin' the staff, got it? No flirtin', no complainin', no roughhousin'. Any of the ladies in there start feelin' uncomfortable fer any reason, they've been told ta come straight ta me about it."
He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing.
"If anything happens, nobody's gettin' kicked out. Ya earned the right to be here today. But we'll have a nice chat about it and when ya go back in they'll have an easier time paintin' nine nails 'stead of ten."
With that, Majima nodded towards Nishida, who cleared his throat as he dropped his clipboard to his side.
"Alright everyone, if you've been here before, you know the drill. For the new guys, here's how today's going to work..."
Majima tugged lightly at Saejima's elbow.
"C'mon, Nishida's gonna go over the boring stuff," Majima muttered to Saejima. "Let's head in."
The two of them slipped inside, Nishida's speech becoming muffled as the door swung closed behind them.
The area was surprisingly large - they were standing in an airy lobby that fed into various rooms along the back walls. Temporary signs were affixed to each door, labeling the activities that were located behind them: Massage, mani/pedi, facial, hair, hot tub, sauna.
Immediately before them was a reception desk with a large poster board propped up against it, reading "Welcome Majima Family!" in bubbly lettering.
Speaking of bubbly - a young woman behind the reception desk stood and gestured at the array of filled champagne flutes sitting out on the desk.
"Welcome!" she chirped. "Please, help yourselves!"
Saejima had become used to being out of his element over the past few months since his abrupt reintroduction into society, but this felt like a whole new level. Following Majima's lead, he gingerly took a glass, fearing it would shatter in his grip.
Nevertheless, it held together as Majima clinked his own flute against the rim of Saejima's with a bright peal. Saejima took a sip - the bubbles pleasantly tickling his mouth - which happened to drain the tiny thing.
The receptionist, reading his mind, handed him a second one with a knowing grin.
"These on the house?" he asked her as Majima finished his glass and set it back down on the desk.
"Of course!"
"Comes with the bachelorette party package," Majima explained. "Which is the only one they offer for a group this size."
Saejima squinted at him. He was still out of practice at determining when Majima was being earnest and when he was messing with him. Somehow, this case seemed like the former.
"Guess I can play the blushin' bride," he said.
As Saejima finished his champagne, nodding a 'thank you' to the receptionist, Majima turned his attention to the doors at the other end of the lobby.
"Alright, let's call dibs before Nishida finishes up out there," he said, suddenly all business. "Ya ever get a facial before, kyoudai?"
Saejima gave him a flat stare.
"I'm gonna assume that don't mean what I think it means," he says, slowly.
Majima snickered and placed his hand at the small of Saejima's back to guide him into the corresponding room - but not before a detour to the locker room, where he firmly suggested Saejima deposit his coat and book.
---
They were greeted by two women as they arrived at their first station of the day; one with her hair in a neat bob, waving and bowing slightly. The other, wearing a tight ponytail, was much less subdued, skipping up to them and wrapping her arms around Majima. Saejima took a half step back, startled by the sudden outburst of affection, while Majima gratefully returned the hug.
"How have you been?" the woman exclaimed. She didn't seem to have noticed Saejima at all - certainly not something that happened to him often. The woman idling by the salon chairs caught his eye, however. She shrugged at him. Saejima couldn't help smiling in return.
"Oh, you know," Majima let the question slide off of him. He turned to Saejima. "This is Mikiko-chan. Mikiko, this is my bro, Saejima."
At this point, Mikiko looked at Saejima for the first time. Or, more accurately, she looked at his chest, then craned her neck upwards to see his face.
"Hi, Saejima-san!" she exclaimed. "This is Rina, she'll be taking care of you today." The other woman, now identified as Rina, gave a small wave.
With introductions complete, the women get them seated in the salon chairs farthest from the doors.
"Mikiko-chan n' I go way back," Majima said, as the women began their work. "She knows how to work around my whole, y'know," he gestured at his face. Saejima closed his eyes, letting Rina rub some sort of minty cleanser on his face. He tried not to think about what it was like for her, applying the same beauty routine to his craggy, weathered face that she used for beautiful, young brides-to-be.
"My sister," Mikiko explained to Saejima. "She got hurt pretty bad as a kid so she wears an eyepatch, too. I grew up helping her with her makeup."
"And now she helps me with mine!" Majima jumped in. He certainly didn't seem to have any qualms about being pampered.
Mikiko waved her hand in front of her face.
"Puh-lease," she groaned. "More like the other way around. That smoky eye technique you showed me was life-changing."
"It get ya laid?" Majima asked, grinning wickedly.
Mikiko turned red astonishingly quickly and the conversation devolved into a fit of giggles on both sides.
It was nice, Saejima thought, seeing Majima let this side of him shine through. He looked so much younger, gossiping and laughing like this.
Their conversation petered out into a comfortable silence for a minute or two until it was broken by a muffled clamor coming from the lobby.
"Sounds like Nishida's finally lettin' the zoo in," Majima remarked.
"Where'd ya find that kid, anyway?" Saejima asked.
"Nishida? Oh, who knows," Majima answered breezily. He paused, appearing lost in thought. "Goddamn miracle worker, that one," he added, too quietly for anyone but Saejima to hear. Saejima smirked. "And that's covered in the NDA!" Majima tacked on as his face turned red.
"I ain't signed no NDA," Saejima teased.
"Bro," Majima started to complain, but he stopped as a group of three men enter the room. The men, who had been bickering amongst themselves upon walking in, similarly quieted once they noticed their patriarch. They took a trio of chairs closest to the door and waited nervously until another couple of employees entered to work on them.
Saejima couldn't help but observe the way Majima's entire demeanor had changed as well; he'd straightened up in his chair and was no longer making goofy faces at Mikiko while she mixed his face mask. He thought back to the awkwardness that had emerged when they were outside earlier, how curiously Majima's confidence had faltered, and he realized that he'd seen his kyoudai like this before.
Years ago, when they were just two rungs on the lowest ladder, official get-togethers involving both the Sasai and Shimano families were surprisingly few and far between. On those rare occasions, however, when their families interlapped and they occupied the same spaces with each other and superiors alike, Majima would struggle to find the version of himself to perform. Used to acting one way in front of captains and more senior yakuza, but another way entirely with Saejima, safe and alone, it was like his wires would get crossed and he'd retreat into himself.
And here he was, decades later, falling into those same patterns. It was almost cute.
Majima continued to make idle chatter with both him and the women, but Saejima was more interested in what his men were up to. They kept sneaking glances at them both, but otherwise seemed relieved that Majima's attention was elsewhere. It still floored Saejima that his kyoudai was such an intimidating presence. In his mind, Majima was still a scrawny little thing; a feral alley cat with sharp claws and a strong bite, sure, but also a scruff that was easy enough to grab hold of and fling him away with when he got too annoying. Even watching him now, eye closed and relaxed as Mikiko slathered some sort of green goop on his face, it was hard for Saejima to perceive him any differently. A warm fondness flooded through him as he allowed Rina to do the same, letting his mind drift off.
Saejima startled upright in his chair. He looked around wildly, the white walls around him evoking unwanted memories of solitary rooms - then relaxed as his mind caught up to him. He tilted his head back to see his kyoudai standing behind him, lightly squeezing his shoulders.
"Think ya nodded off for a bit there, old man," Majima grinned.
Saejima rubbed his eyes absently - then more intentionally. His face was soft. With both hands, he reached backwards over his head to place them on Majima's cheeks, pressing them together until his catlike grin was smushed inward. Soft.
After humoring him for a few seconds, Majima grabbed Saejima's wrists and gently pulled his hands away from his face.
"Ready for part two?" he said, bemused.
Saejima hummed, finally pulling himself out of the chair.
---
Their next stop was the manicure room next door. There was a light botanical scent in the air, masking a not-entirely unpleasant chemical smell that undoubtedly came from the vast array of shiny polish bottles shelved on the wall.
As they settled into their new seats, Saejima realized that Mikiko and Rina had followed them in, washing their hands together at a large basin.
"Any injuries i should know about before we start, Saejima-san?" Rina asked, drying her hands on a plush towel.
"Ring finger on this hand don't always bend right," he told her, demonstrating. "Got busted pretty bad a few months back."
He saw Majima smiling to himself out of the corner of his eye. That one was his handiwork, catching a wild punch with his baseball bat. He felt warmth rise in his cheeks.
"Anything new I should know about, Majima-san?" Mikiko asked.
"Nope, just the ol' war wounds."
Rina gently nudged Saejima's chair, bringing his attention to the wall, bottles filled with sparkles, shimmers, deep solids, subtle neutrals.
"Color?" asked Rina.
"Oh, I don't -"
"Pick a goddamn color, kyoudai."
"Supposin' that blue looks nice," said Saejima.
While Mikiko and Rina worked diligently on their nails, Saejima glanced at his kyoudai. Majima was humming along to whatever old pop song was playing in the background, admiring the dark purple that was drying on his left hand.
"I dunno if I'm cut out for this sorta thing," Saejima admitted, hesitantly cutting through the pleasant atmosphere.
"What, acrylics?"
"No, kyoudai," he couldn't help but smile through his nerves. "I mean, this. All of this. Running a family."
Majima frowned and tilted his head to the side.
"Not all that different from teachin', I'd wager," he said, thoughtful.
Majima had meant it to be comforting, but it only made the pit of doubt grow. There was probably a time when he would have been a great teacher, Saejima thought, but that time was long gone. A dried-up dream from lifetimes ago. He didn't have the instinct for it anymore, if he'd ever had it to begin with.
Saejima frowned, but the moment was lost as Majima's cell began to ring.
Carefully fishing it from his inner jacket pocket, Majima glanced at the screen, then groaned.
"Aw fuck," Majima said. "It's about the Hills, I gotta take this. Why dontcha go mingle while I get this squared away?"
Saejima wasn't sure if he'd ever mingled before in his life. He looked askance at his kyoudai; again, it was unlike him to care whether or not Saejima was around. Majima's face was set, though, and the ringing wasn't growing any less urgent. Rina sat back and gave him a thumbs up, indicating that he was free to wander while his nails finished drying.
Acquiescing to Majima, Saejima stood up, stretching his legs and heading back out into the hall.
–
He didn't have to wander for long before coming across a familiar face. Saejima had ventured into the locker room to pick up his book and maybe perch on a bench to get through a chapter or so before Majima came to fetch him. However, before taking a seat, he peered through the round window into the adjoining sauna. Minami, leaning back on his palms and staring at the ceiling, appeared to be the only occupant of the small chamber. Saejima hesitated, then decided it wouldn't hurt to go in and say hello.
Unwilling to commit entirely to stripping down to a towel and joining him, Saejima compromised by tugging his boots off and slipping into the largest pair of flip flops he could find in the cubby against the wall.
Pushing the door open and bracing for the sudden heat wave, Saejima nodded at Minami. Minami gave him a little salute from his perch but didn't appear fazed by his sudden entrance. Saejima took a seat next to him and crossed his arms, suddenly self-conscious about his pearlescent blue nails. He cleared his throat, the sound bouncing oddly in the small space.
"Minami," he started. "I was wonderin'. What's it like workin' for my kyoudai?"
Minami perked up, angling himself towards Saejima.
"It's the best job I ever had!" he answered immediately. Saejima raised an eyebrow, skeptical of how many other jobs the kid might have had before swearing up. "An' especially now that you're here, it's been even better."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Oh the boss, he's really mellowed out lately!"
"Ya think so?"
"Since you showed up, he's only beat my ass..." he counted on his fingers. Then counted the other hand. Then counted the first hand again. "Well, not as many times as he used to."
"What kind of things does he get on yer case for?"
Minami puffed out his cheeks and exhaled, hard.
"Well, shit, let me see...being late to meetings, not getting my paperwork done, wearing that one yellow shirt, hogging the mic at karaoke - that's a big one - eating Nishida's lunch outta the office fridge, leaving my lighters laying around everywhere..."
Saejima glanced around the room but there didn't appear to be a clean exit in sight.
"...getting to meetings too early, coming to work hungover, not getting his weird jokes, hiding Nishida's stuff, oh! He really hates that one party trick where I -"
"Doesn't it bother ya?"
"Whaddya mean?"
"I mean, doesn't it piss you off, when he gets like that?"
"Why would it? It's an honor! The boss says it's how he makes sure we're improving ourselves!"
"Hmm."
"This one time, " Minami continued, "I accidentally brought him black tea instead of green. And he didn't even notice! I was so upset I could hardly get out of bed the next day."
Saejima wasn't quite sure what to make of that. One thing he did know, however, was that he was beginning to get mighty uncomfortable sweating there with all his clothes on.
"Thanks, Minami," Saejima said, getting up and hoping that he wasn't leaving a puddle on the seat. "I gotta get back but it's, uh, it's been nice talkin' to you."
"Same to you, ojiki!"
Saejima found himself flashing a genuine smile at the kid. He was beginning to see why Majima was so attached.
—
Majima had closed out his call by the time Saejima returned. He stood up as Saejima approached, fanning his hands out in front of him to show off the finished product. Saejima grabbed his hand and tugged it closer, inspecting his nails carefully. With a sly smile, he brought it up to his face and kissed his knuckles.
"Pervert," Majima grumbled, yanking his hand back, but he wasn't able to hide the faint blush dusting the tips of his ears.
"Where to next?" Saejima asked.
"Nowhere," said Majima, gesturing back to the salon chairs. Their two techs had brought out identical water basins, along with a new set of unidentifiable soaps, creams, and lotions. "Still got toenails to get through."
Majima settled back into his chair but Saejima remained standing, nonplussed.
"I dunno, I don't like nobody messin' with my feet," Saejima said, dubious. "No offense," he added to Rina.
"Ohhh no, you're gettin' your feet done," Majima proclaimed, spinning Saejima's empty chair towards him. "Do you know what those talons of yours did to my sheets? My 800-thread count bamboo sheets?"
"I don't got talons."
"Big ass claws, kyoudai."
Saejima grumbled as he sat back down.
As they settled into getting their feet done, Saejima finally found an opportunity to crack his book open. Majima's impatient wriggling, however, made it a little hard to concentrate. Saejima quirked an eyebrow in his direction.
"What are ya readin' anyway?" Majima finally asked, peering over at him.
Saejima tried to suppress his surprise at his kyoudai's curiosity.
"Some kinda mystery novel," Saejima said. "Some underworld kingpin gets murdered and this little detective guy is hired by one of the women who worked for him. 'S pretty good."
Majima grabbed the book to tilt the cover towards him.
"Oh! Yeah, they made that into a movie way back when. That's the one where the killer -"
"Goro," Saejima interrupted. Majima retreated but retained the smug look on his face.
"My bad, my bad," he backed off. The main actress was hot as shit, though."
"Hmm."
After finding where he'd left off, Saejima got through about a paragraph before one of the men across the room burped, loudly.
"If you're gonna puke, do it somewhere else."
"'M not gonna fucking puke, bro!"
"I told you we shouldn't pregame spa day."
"Yeah, and you were being a real bitch about it."
"The fuck you just say to me?"
"I said, you're a pussy ass bitch who can't hold his-"
Majima opened his mouth but his words were cut off by the thump of a book slamming shut. Rina had the good sense to pull away when Saejima spun his chair to face the chinpira.
"I dunno what kinda circus my bro's been running th' past few years," Saejima growled, "and y'all ain't my monkeys, but if ya were, ya'd just be a smear on that nice tile floor by now."
Cowed by the full force of Saejima's irritation, the punks are silenced within seconds.
Saejima shook his head as he opened his book again.
"I'm so fuckin' horny right now," said Majima.
---
Their pedicures were completed in relative peace and, after giving their thank yous and goodbyes to Mikiko and Rina, Saejima and Majima were once again standing in the lobby.
"Massage room's open," Saejima noted, glancing around at their options.
"Nah, I'm good," replied Majima. "Let's hit the hot tub."
Saejima frowned at him but didn't push further, trailing behind Majima as he led them into the locker room.
As they began undressing, Majima grabbed a fresh towel from the cabinet and whipped it at Saejima. Laughing at his kyoudai's predictability, Saejima caught it instead and yanked, so that Majima was yanked with it - his resulting loss of balance normally would have been a momentary lapse, but it brought his shin directly into contact with the dense wooden bench running through the middle of the room.
Majima dropped onto it and cursed while Saejima wheezed at him. To add insult to injury, Saejima tossed the towel back at him, landing lightly on his head. He looked like a very angry ghost.
Hoping to take advantage of the rare moment of privacy, Saejima spoke up once Majima had finished bitching about his fresh new bruise.
"Earlier, when you got that business call," Saejima ventured, knowing he'll have to tread carefully, "whydja ask me to leave?"
"Hmm? Didn't want to bore ya," Majima responded, nonchalant. He folded his clothes together neatly and slipped them into one of the upper lockers.
"Kyoudai."
Majima looked genuinely confused. It was certainly possible he didn't even recognize what he was doing. It was also possible he’d gotten very good at acting over the years.
"I wanna see ya in your element," Saejima finished. At that, Majima's face broke into a grin.
"What, are you shadowing me or something? Bring your Taiga to work day?"
"You seem...uncomfortable, talking to your men while I'm around," Saejima pushed. A lot had changed about Majima while he'd been gone, but it was an immutable fact that if Saejima didn't get ahead of something like this now, it would begin to fester.
Majima suddenly became very invested in tying his towel around his waist.
"I wanna know this part of you, too," Saejima continued, as softly as he could manage. "You ain't gonna scare me off." He watched as Majima leaned against the wall of lockers.
"Still gettin' used to it," he admitted gruffly.
Saejima nodded.
"No kiddin," he chuckled. "Me too." He stood and dumped his things into the locker he'd used before, balled up and crumpled in direct contrast to Majima's precise care. He started heading towards the pool room but paused when Majima didn't follow. He was still frowning, lost in thought.
"Hey," said Saejima. "Next time, just pretend I ain't here."
At this, Majima looked up, his face twisted into a grimace.
"I'm not gonna do that," he protested. "Why would I want to do that? I've had enough of you not being here."
Saejima could practically feel Majima recoil at the unexpectedly earnest words that had come out of his own mouth. He didn't give Saejima a chance to respond, shoving past him to lead them both into the adjoining room.
There was already a gaggle of young men floating in the hot tub, their eyes closed in peaceful relaxation. Majima made short work of that atmosphere, speaking loudly enough to set off a tsunami of splashes as the men looked around in blind panic.
"Oi oi, our turn," Majima announced. "Skedaddle."
Saejima, bemused, watched the poor creatures run past them with stammered apologies but Majima paid them no mind, making a beeline to the now-empty and very inviting tub.
The noise Majima made as he sank into the water was...well. It was something. Saejima swallowed.
"What?" Majima asked, coyly.
Saejima huffed out a laugh and rested his arms on the edge of the tub as an invitation. Majima snickered and waded over, leaning his head back on Saejima's shoulder and letting himself be held. Saejima savored another moment of peace as Majima's hair tickled his neck.
For a few moments the only sound was muffled chatter from the hallway.
"Yer a good leader, y'know," Saejima said. "It suits ya."
Majima twisted around to give Saejima his toothiest grin.
"'Course I am. Nobody can resist this charming personality, " he boasted. "Or this flamin' hot bod, fer that matter."
Saejima smiled, sweeping Majima's hair back enough to kiss him right above his ear.
"I'm bein' serious," he said. "Ya got some of the meanest guys in Kamurocho thinkin' nail polish is cool. Because you say it is."
Saejima could feel Majima take a deep breath.
"Thanks, Taiga," he replied, his voice suddenly much smaller.
Saejima lingered where he was, his face buried in Majima's hair, and kissed him again, impossibly gentle. He brushed his arm across Majima's chest, pulling him in closer.
Majima turned around fully to face him, his skin dusted pink certainly only due to the heat of the water.
"Dunno why you were so cranky about this last night," Saejima said, leaning in until he could feel Majima's breath tickling his face. "It's pretty nice."
"'S a lot nicer with you here."
"...Bro."
"Shut up."
"Bro, that's sappy as shit," Saejima laughed, and was ready to tease more until Majima countered him with a kiss.
He couldn't argue with that logic. As Saejima returned the kiss and then some, he allowed himself to bask in a sensation he had never experienced until very recently - he felt safe. Safe, and warm, and here with his family. Saejima pulled Majima closer, tugged at him until he felt Majima loop his ankles around Saejima's shins and smile into his mouth, and - and knew never to take moments like these for granted.
The locker room door slid open, followed by a muffled curse and the scuffing of shoes against concrete tile.
"Oh I'm- I'm so sorry I'll wait -" said the intruder as he began to retreat. He wasn't someone Saejima had met before, but carried the textbook Majima Family mannerisms of hunching nervously and leaning away from his patriarch.
"Whaddya need?" Majima asked.
The man stopped mid-turn and nearly tripped over his own feet.
Saejima pulled away just enough to raise an eyebrow at Majima. The twitch of a smile he got in response felt like electricity.
"There's a, uh..." the messenger continued. He couldn't take his eyes off Saejima so Saejima stared back while possessively mouthing at Majima's neck.
"Spit it out," said Majima. He began threading his fingers through Saejima's hair. Saejima hummed, content.
"It's - Le Marche is threatening to pull out of the Hills," he stuttered. "Said the Family's too high profile and they don't want to be affiliated with the yakuza."
Saejima snorted.
"That’s the fancy jewelry store on Showa?" he asked. "They've been there since we were kids. Yakuza affiliation's practically their brand."
The guy glanced back at Majima, hesitating.
"Ya heard him, go fuckin' take care of it," Majima told him. "Call their bluff. Say thanks for the consideration, blah blah, we're moving forward with, shit, I dunno, La Chatte Blanche instead. Do not give 'em an excuse to negotiate."
He shooed the guy with his free hand, flicking water droplets across the room.
Saejima smiled and bit Majima's earlobe.
Majima whined loud enough to accentuate his point, sending the man practically careening out the door.
"Yer kind of a freak, anyone ever tell you that?"
"Takes one to know one," mumbled Saejima.
—
Somehow, the day was already coming to an end. Saejima wasn't sure if he felt any different - sure, he had a shiny coat of paint on his nails and his face was still tingling from whatever mask they'd coated his skin with - but there wasn't any of the overwhelming lightness he'd seen smiling women on television ads gushing about. Mostly he just smelled like lavender. Which was still nice.
They returned to the lobby along with the rest of the men from the Majima family, emerging from the various rooms and dispersing out into the fading sunlight. Majima himself veered towards the front desk to work out the final expenses for the day - the expected incidentals of broken or stolen items, extra orders of booze and snacks, and whatever other havoc his boys had wrought. Saejima, eyes glazing over at the back-and-forth, took it upon himself to go and mingle this time.
He was happy to come across Nishida wandering alone in the little gift shop, intently sniffing the soaps one-by-one then carefully reshelving them. The poor man startled guiltily when Saejima approached him, almost dropping the 'Activated Charcoal Acai Exfoliation Creme' he'd been investigating. Saejima held out his hands instinctively, like he was calming a spooked animal.
"Saejima-san!" Nishida exclaimed, taking a small step back. "Oh - does the boss need me for check-out? I should -"
"He's fine, Nishida," Saejima assured him. He put his arms down, slowly, once Nishida appeared to relax somewhat.
"Can I ask ya somethin'?" he said.
"Absolutely!"
"What was it like," Saejima asked, slowly, "when Majima started runnin' things?"
"Oyaji? He was very ambitious. Still is, of course, but in the early days it felt like we were taking the stairs three at a time. It was like - hmm." He paused to think for a moment. "It was like he could see exactly what we were capable of and he couldn't wait a second longer to get us there."
Nishida hesitated, but he must have seen something on Saejima's face that made him continue.
"Nobody else runs their family like the boss does. Nobody else could. I think - I think you have to carve your own path when it comes down to it. I mean, you can lean on your ideas of what leadership should look like, but that doesn't really apply to the day-to-day stuff. At that point you just have to focus on what's right in front of you and handle things the best way you know how. Play to your strengths, y'know?"
Saejima didn't say anything to that. Nishida's eyes widened, as if just realizing how much he'd been running his mouth.
"I- I'm sorry, Saejima-san, I shouldn't have--"
"Yer a smart guy." Saejima cut off the apology. He leaned in, narrowing his eyes at the rest of the room. "Ya didn't hear it from me," he continued gruffly, "but my bro thinks yer a miracle worker."
He got up and heavily patted Nishida on the shoulder as he left.
Saejima returned to find the receptionist not quite arguing with his kyoudai.
"I'm sorry, it just looks like you may have had a reaction to the face cream." She gestured at her own neck as she looked at Majima's with concern.
"I'm tellin' ya, I feel fine."
Saejima took a peek for himself and managed to convert his ugly chuckle into a cough. They both turned to look at him.
"He's just got a skin condition," Saejima explained, wrapping an arm around Majima's shoulder.
"I do not!" Majima squawked.
The manager gave them both one more confused look before smartly deciding to dismiss the whole thing.
"Well, thank you again for your patronage," she said, forcing a professional smile. "We look forward to seeing you next year!"
Saejima steered Majima away before he could say anything else.
"What was all that about?" he asked once they were out the doors.
"I mighta been yer skin condition," Saejima smirked.
Majima's mouth dropped open in shocked disapproval.
"Yer a fuckin' menace," he swore, shoving Saejima. Saejima shoved back before wrapping his arm around Majima's waist.
"I dunno if I made such a good impression on yer men today," Saejima admitted after a moment.
"Oh, ya mean with the threats and the PDA and all the weird creepy staring?"
Saejima frowned, not sure what Majima meant by that last part.
"My boys respond well to that kinda thing," Majima continued. "Trust me, ya got nothing to worry about."
"Hmm." For the first time since coming home, he believed it.
They both walked for a minute, lost in their own thoughts, but together.
"Hey!" Majima said suddenly. "Did you see Nishida on the way out? Kid was beaming like he found a winning scratch-off on the train. Practically shittin' rainbows. Any idea what that was about?"
"No clue," said Saejima.
"Huh."