Archive of Our Own

He'd been looking for glass cleaner when it happened.

Someone (the boss himself, probably) had taken a marker pen to the side of the office aquarium, drawing on the glass to make the resident axolotl inside look like Sega's Woo-Papa. Now that the salamander had moved, though, all that was left behind was a disembodied set of moustache, top hat and cane that needed to be cleaned away.

It should have been an easy enough task. Nishida, by this point, was accustomed to all manner of housekeeping tasks for the family office, and knew exactly where the supplies for them were kept. It wasn't exactly the most illustrious job the Majima Family had to offer, but relatively new and inexperienced - and lacking in any sort of intimidation factor - Nishida's superiors didn't often give him much else to occupy his time besides 'office-sitting', and that suited him just fine; that way, he didn't have to feel too badly about lying to his mother about his job when she asked. She didn't need to worry herself with what kind of office her son had gone off to work in.

It was stupid, but he hadn't even realised what he was getting himself into when he'd first walked through the front door - not with how innocent the recruitment flier had been. 'Join the team today!', it had said, 'no experience needed!'. All too enticing for a kid fresh out of the country, looking for a quick step up onto the employment ladder to start paying his own way and sending money back home. In hindsight, he should have turned tail and started running the second he worked out it was a yakuza office - get as far away from Kamurocho as his funds would allow, set himself up elsewhere. Too bad he hadn't had the brains to do just that - nor the guts to say 'no' once he was face-to-face with the man himself.

But, to his own credit, who would?

Between the attitude and the eyepatch, Goro Majima cut an intimidating figure; and on top of that still, there was an air of... charisma... about him. Something oddly magnetic that pulled you in despite everything that told you not to get too close.

Maybe it wasn't that he hadn't been brave enough to turn back. Maybe there was something about Patriarch Majima that had told him this was what he really wanted.

Maybe that was scarier.

A shudder ran through Nishida's spine at the idea, punctuated by a series of loud thuds and half-muffled yells from the other side of the wall beside him - from the boss' private office. It wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence, and it definitely served as a daily reminder of exactly why this was absolutely not the kind of work one should ever aspire to.

No one in Kamurocho was willing to mess with the Majima Family, that was true enough, because that meant messing with Goro Majima - and while that may sound like some kind of safety net living somewhere as potentially dangerous as Kamurocho, the double edge to that blade was that it meant being placed in close contact with the man himself on a daily basis, and people knew Majima as the 'Mad Dog of Shimano' for good reason. He was wildly unpredictable, ready to bite at any moment, making working with him to any capacity a potential danger.

Though he had yet to enter the boss' direct line of sight himself in the time since their first fateful meeting, there was one important lesson that Nishida had learned during his time at the office: you couldn't play it safe with Majima. His movements and intentions were impossible to gauge; any time you might think you'd found a pattern, worked out a cause for what made the boss snap, it would change the next time around.

It was almost like it was intentional - like the man consciously reacted differently on purpose, just to throw you off the scent.

To keep himself unpredictable.

No, but that was silly, wasn't it? How could someone pretend to be unpredictable? Nishida shook the thought away entirely, not allowing himself to stew on it and delay his progress any longer as he rifled through the supply closet to retrieve the necessary cleaning products. Situational stress shortening an already short fuse; that's what it was. Nothing any more complex than that.

"You got a spare rag there?" A voice asked from behind Nishida, almost making him drop what he was holding. He spun around to see his aniki, Hinoki Hiyama - a man who had been with the Majima Family for much longer than he had himself, and who was currently sporting a freshly bleeding wound to his temple. Nishida looked dumbly between the bloodied gash and the cleaning cloth he had just grabbed, before holding it out to the other man with his head lowered in respect.

"Thanks," he responded to the offering, balling the fabric into a wad and pressing it to his temple with a hiss. Nishida stood in silence, watching while his aniki leaned against the wall as he stemmed the bleeding, simply waiting - be it for further instruction, or a dismissal to continue with what he'd been doing; whatever his superior saw fit. "Oh, right," Hiyama-san said finally, as though just registering that Nishida was even still standing there. "The boss wants to see you. Got something important needs doing."

Well, that was unexpected.

"Me?" Nishida questioned, sure that he must have misheard, or that the other man must have been mistaken on who he was talking to - the result of a mild concussion, perhaps.

"Yeah, you," he answered matter-of-factly, pulling the cloth from his head and examining the red stain it had gained before pressing it back to the wound and returning eye contact. "Asked for you by name and everything."

The words were equally as thrilling as they were absolutely terrifying.

The Majima Family was a big one, and still growing; it was hard to imagine the boss knowing anyone's names at this point. He didn't really need to. He could just point in any given direction and yell "Hey, you," and earn himself ten guys ready and willing to do whatever it was he had lined up for them, to whatever varying degree of legality. It was hard to say whether their patriarch even remembered who his own lieutenants were, half of the time, or if he simply enjoyed assigning new ones at random. To think that he was being called in, personally...

Nishida followed the trickle of blood that had managed to escape from his aniki's forehead whilst the cloth had been removed. There was a good chance that Hiyama-san's head wound had been their boss' doing, and if that was the kind of mood he was in, then Nishida didn't much fancy his chances in there without at least being offered a helmet first, whatever it was the boss wanted him for.

"You best get in there quick," the man said, drawing Nishida's attention back from the sliver of crimson, "boss doesn't like to be kept waiting."

That was all the extra persuasion Nishida needed to start heading for the door. Whatever it was that their patriarch wanted to see him for, delaying it would only make things worse - still, he couldn't stop his mind from racing with the possibilities on what that reason could be.

Being called for directly? Actually being recognised by the patriarch? On the one hand, it meant that his presence within the family might have finally gone noticed - that he could be on his way to moving up in the ranks. On the other hand... well; their patriarch was Goro Majima. No one quite knew how his mind worked on what pleased or displeased him, and Nishida really, really hoped he hadn't done anything that might have been seen as 'displeasing'.

No, surely he hadn't.

But then again... what had he actually done that could have impressed him? Organising folders? Keeping the food stocked for the axolotl?

Had Majima noticed how little time Nishida spent outside of the office? Did the boss think it meant he wasn't pulling his weight?

The cold shiver from earlier was replaced with a wave of nausea.

Thinking on it, Patriarch Majima hadn't long returned to the family office - back from meeting with his own boss, Futoshi Shimano, patriarch of the family to which the Majima Family was subsidiary, and for whom Goro Majima was their captain. If he was getting called in now, then the chances were that the boss had some kind of work for him, handed down from his own superior. Maybe that was why he was being called - to prove that he could handle things, just the same as any other member of the fold; finally take that leap in truly defining his place in the family. Nishida could only pray he wouldn't be getting forced into anything too dangerous.

Perhaps he would be in luck, though, and it wouldn't have anything to do with Patriarch Shimano at all - just another of Majima's own random personal ventures: truck painting, or looking at fancy breeds of chickens, or whatever else it was that may have popped into the boss' head to do this week. He could handle something like that.

Swallowing back his aprehension and feeling it settle in the pit of his stomach, Nishida knocked on the door, earning a sharp "What?" yelled from the other side. He cracked the door open just enough to speak through the gap. "It's Nishida, sir..." he announced into the room, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible; "you called for me?"

He waited, but there was no reply, angry or otherwise, giving no hint as to what awaited him inside. Hesitantly, he let himself into the room, pardoning himself for the intrusion as he did so.

Goro Majima was not sat at the desk, as Nishida thought he would be; nor was he on the sofa, watching any of the numerous horror B-movie flicks he liked to put on during 'family meetings'. Glancing around the room, Nishida spotted that one of the cabinets now had its door hanging loose on its hinges, as well as an edge that was caked with blood. Between that and the noises he'd heard, it looked like he knew what had happened to his aniki's forehead.

It wasn't until he looked down that Nishida found where his patriarch actually was: laying flat on his back in the middle of the floor, staring up at the ceiling. The boss craned his neck awkwardly to look over at the door behind him, giving some vague hint of acknowledgement before going back to his ceiling-staring. His snakeskin jacket fell open, splayed out to either side of him, giving Majima the look of a reptile basking mid-shed. The vibrant ink of the irezumi that lay beneath stood in bold contrast to the pale skin of his bare chest - a snake itself, it's rendering the perfect reflection of the man's cunning and charisma; the aura of promise that tempted others to follow, despite the threat of his venomous bite.

He didn't look to be in much of a biting mood right now, but there was no telling how quickly that could all change - or what might set him off ready to strike.

"'Nishida', yeah?" the boss asked finally, in a way that told him that he had definitely not been called for by name. He gave a long, overpronounced sigh, tilting his head back to meet him once more with a look of expectation. "Well?"

Well? Well what?

Apparently there was some vital context to this meeting that Nishida had missed somewhere. "Umm... I wasn't--" he fumbled, trying desperately to think what it was he was supposed to be coming in to explain. His aniki hadn't given any kind of clue, had he? No, only that he needed to go in and see the boss, quick.

The sigh turned to a frustrated snarl. "I'm bored." Majima emphasised, showing clear annoyance at having to explain what it was he actually wanted. "Give me somethin' to do. I need ideas."

This was the all-important job? Personal task management for their ticking time bomb of a boss?

Oh no.

Nishida felt incredibly underqualified for such an undertaking. On the surface, it seemed like it should be simple - just make a few harmless suggestions; but what did you even suggest to someone like Goro Majima? Any word would be cutting a wire, and any single wrong one could instantly cause the Mad Dog to explode. How was he supposed to know the right ones - how was anyone - when the boss let on so little about himself to begin with?

Nishida considered for a moment whether dealing with a real bomb might actually be safer. At least that might come with its own manual.

Majima's singular eye narrowed, scrutinising him. Nishida swallowed hard, feeling the intensity of the gaze as clearly as though the boss' hands were already at his throat. Panicking wouldn't get him anywhere, though; retreating was out of the question. This was a task that would require logic to escape from.

Nishida truly had no idea what his boss might want to do, he realised that much already, but he could at least try to narrow down the options by discounting the things he probably wouldn't want to. Goro Majima wasn't one to frequent Hostess Clubs, for example - he'd 'seen enough of 'em in the '80's to last a lifetime', apparently. It made Nishida wonder if the boss had gotten his heart broken before - by a cabaret girl, maybe. Perhaps that was the reason why the man only ever seemed to have a lady on his arm if he was showing off to someone else, just to prove that he could - a shameless flirt when called upon, but never with any real interest attached.

At least that was one thing Nishida could say that he appreciated about his boss: that he wasn't the type to have his guys bring girls in for him at the office. He'd heard enough stories about other patriarchs and their... appetites.

But he was straying from the point: what about things that the boss did like?

Well for a start, he seemed as though he enjoyed karaoke, and dancing; he did, after all, hold a natural penchant for showmanship. But that was more of a group activity than something Majima would reasonably be interested in going off to do himself - an opportunity to perform for a crowd, more than anything else. Not that the rest of the family would have much of a choice in declining if it was what their patriarch decided on in the end, but perhaps there were other - more solo - things he could try to come up with first.

In that case, he did at least know that the boss liked to drink - or at the very least, that he did drink. Frequently. He could suggest going to a bar then, maybe... but from the look of the bottle sat on Majima's desk - and the empty glass lying next to him in the floor - it seemed as though the boss had already started pouring for himself the moment he'd stepped back in. And besides that point... well, Nishida wouldn't know what bar to suggest if Majima went on to ask specifics. Other than the sakazuki that had occurred when he was sworn in to the family, Nishida hadn't ever touched alcohol; after all, he still wasn't legally old enough to drink yet. It seemed like a bit of a moot point really, in consideration of his current occupation - whether or not something so comparatively harmless as drinking alcohol was 'legal' - but it felt like a point, nonetheless.

Majima's concentration left Nishida's face, drifting back up to the ceiling as he waited; his expression losing all of its harsh command, softening into something dispirited. He looked less like a creature basking, now. More like he was just... stuck. The fear clutching at Nishida's chest dissipated, replaced with a feeling of sympathy for the man.

In truth, this had become an all-too common occurrence as of late - seeing the boss return from being called in to the main Shimano Family office in one of two moods: loud, angry and physically violent; or a far too quiet state of aggitation, looking for company from no one but the bottom of a bottle. Today had clearly been the latter. Nishida had long since decided he did not want to know what it was that Futoshi Shimano was capable of that could leave the Mad Dog so dispondent. The man currently spread out on the office floor was a far cry from the boss he had come to know during his time in the family. Goro Majima usually oozed confidence, always giving off the sense that he could accomplish anything, that nothing could hold him back; an infectious kind of assurance that couldn't help but to make you believe in him, and in what you could do yourself if you only followed his lead. Is that where the violence came from in times like these? The boss' sudden and startling realisation of his own limits, and the frustrated need to take control back by force?

"I ain't hearin' any suggestions over here;" the sharp tone of the boss' voice snapped Nishida back to the task at hand. "Jeez, I hope everyone here ain't this damn borin'."

Majima picked himself up, spinning around to sit cross-legged facing Nishida, any hint of melancholy replaced with a stern look of expectation. "Well?" he repeated, voice dropping to a low, dark tone, "Ya gonna gimme any answers?"

Nishida swallowed thickly, gazing into the steely expression of that singular eye. Maybe he'd been overthinking things. Maybe it was exactly as the boss said - he was bored, and that was that; tired and agitated from nothing more than a standard meeting leading nowhere, looking for something now to occupy his unusually active mind. It could be either; both, even. Or, it could be neither one at all. It didn't particularly matter right now, though. What mattered in the moment was results, not reasons, and what Nishida really needed was to come up with an answer. Fast.

A sudden epiphany hit - the first place the boss himself would always be most likely to suggest. "Well then... how about going to the batting center?"

A hefty iron paperweight sailed past Nishida's shoulder, narrowly missing him as it collided with the wall and clattered to the floor.

"Dumbass!" Majima barked, "If I wanted to use the batting cages, I'd already be there, wouldn't I?"

So much for his foolproof plan.

This was no good. If even the Yoshida Batting Center wasn't enough to placate his patriarch, then that meant it must have been was one of those days. The ones that left the boss in the type of mood where he wanted to shut out the past and forget about 'him' for the timebeing, rather than allow those old memories to resurface, open up whatever old wounds it was that went along with them.

Not the 'him' that the boss called 'Kiryu-chan' - a man that Nishida had not yet had the chance to meet, but whom he knew that Majima would eagerly chat about daily, always making new plans for what to do in the wake of his eventual release from prison; this was the other 'him' - the one that the boss avoided bringing up as much as possible, that always brought a sad, wistful glint to his eye whenever something reminded him of them. Someone only ever spoken of in small doses - a set of words brief enough to go unnoticed if you weren't paying close enough attention, and ones never repeated if anyone were ever to press on it. Regardless, Nishida still felt that he had a good idea who 'he' probably was - hadn't everyone heard the stories by now? - though he wasn't stupid enough to actually ask. Doing that would earn him something far worse than a near-miss from a projectile paperweight, he was sure of it. The boss wasn't somebody who could be prompted like that; he only told what he wanted to, and when it came to this - to the past - what he wanted to tell was clearly very little. He posed himself as a man always looking foward, but there were clearly things - people, places - he still carried with him, kept closer to his chest than the ink that decorated it.

From the loose snippets Nishida had picked up of those small mentions over time, there was a selection of other locations he could at least now discount as being ones to avoid mentioning - eating at Kanrai would be off-limits, as would the general area of the Champion District, which only made the idea of suggesting going for a drink somewhere even less viable than it already had been. He would leave Kiryu-san out of the picture for now, too, just to be safe; if the batting center was too obvious, then making plans for the boss' pet project probably was as well. What Nishida really needed was something that could distract Majima from the 'now', without being a reminder of the things he couldn't currently have; and for that, Theatre Square seemed like the safest bet. As Kamurocho's main hub for general entertainment, there was always plenty to do around there. "What about bowling?" Nishida began listing off options from the location. "Or going to Club Sega, trying your hand at some new high scores? Or maybe Debolah? Or--"

The boss' glass sailed by his head, missing by only a fraction, closer even than the last throw, and Nishida was sent ducking to shield himself from the spray of shattered splinters.

He really needed that helmet.

"Yer the one supposed to be decidin' on something!" Majima made some series of grand gestures with his arms to go along with the raised tone of his voice, emphasising his point. "How're ya gonna do that if you're gonna make me pick?"

So much for only needing 'ideas'. Nishida couldn't help but feel that his 'choice' in this was purely illusionary, anyway. There was a good chance that the boss already knew exactly what it was he wanted to do with his time; watching one of his guys sweating over trying to guess it was just pre-show entertainment in the lead up to the main event. He also got the distinct impression that the boss' last two throws had been warning shots; there was no guarantee that he'd get the good graces of a third. So, which to choose? What would be the safest option out of everything Theatre Square had to offer?

Searching the room for some kind of inspiration, Nishida's eyes landed on the office's large television set, and the boss' haphazard collection of DVDs and VHS tapes. "Uhmm... a movie then?"

Majima wordlessly produced his signature custom tantō, the pearlescent petals of its sakura design catching the light as he casually messed with the sheath. Surely that wasn't the next thing he intended to throw?

Revealing the blade, Majima inspected its sharp edge as he followed up with another question: "what movie?"

Nishida had landed himself straight into a trap - another choice, another chance at seeing the consequences for misreading the boss and getting it entirely wrong. Perhaps if he was careful, he could still back out quickly enough to take an easier route. "Actually, on second thought, maybe not."

He waited with bated breath as Majima continued twirling the knife in his hand, until the sheath was put back into place with a hum of approval, the tantō layed back down on the floor beside him - still in view, but no longer in hand. "Yeah, yer right," he agreed, leaning backwards all too casually, "there's nothin' good showin' right now anyway."

Nishida finally exhaled, surprised that he hadn't passed out on the spot. Once this was over and done with, he needed to get out of here - move somewhere far away, where he could live out life without the imminent daily threat of having his throat sliced by his own employer. He wasn't cut out for this line of work. He knew that; had always known that. He had no idea what it was that had made Patriarch Majima think he should let someone like him swear up in the first place.

Was it out of pity? For the poor country kid, new to the city; just trying to earn a living and do right by his mother?

No, no it couldn't have been. Not between the thuds, and the yells, and the knife threats, and the near-miss projectiles. 'Pity' wasn't the boss' style, and the man in question would give him a walloping for the mere suggestion alone, he was sure of it. He dared to meet with his patriarch's gaze again, as though he might even have been reading his thoughts; as though the expression he received in return might give him his answer.

He was met, in that moment, with a smile that completely caught him off guard. It was so... genuine; utterly absent of malace, or sarcasm, or condescension. A rare smile of reassurance, telling you that you were on the right path, that the snake you were following truly did want to lead you to something great. Nishida felt as though he may have seen it once before, on that very first day he had stepped foot into the office.

He still couldn't say what exactly it was that had seen him sworn in to begin with, but he at least knew what it was that made him stay - looking at Majima, you couldn't help but want to.

A wave of courage washed over him at the sight, and a bout of inspiration to go along with it. Perhaps he simply needed to look closer. "What about if we moved all of the furniture out of the way in the main office, and called everyone in here for you to fight them?" he put forward, the most sure of himself that he'd been since stepping foot through the boss' door. If there was one thing anyone could be certain of about Majima, it was that he loved a good fight. Surely the rest of the family would forgive him for the suggestion if it meant keeping their patriarch happy - and besides, it would carry the bonus of showing off their strength to the boss for anyone who'd been looking for their best chance.

Majima certainly seemed to perk up at the mention of a fight. There was a definite light to the boss' eye as he brought a hand up to scratch at his goatee, seeming for the first time to take one of Nishida's ideas into genuine consideration.

"Mmm... too much set-up time; too much clean up after." Majima finally replied with a shake of his head, surprising Nishida with his practicality. "An' besides, ya'd never fit enough guys in that room to be able t'make it a challenge."

Ah, so there was the real reason. From anyone else, it might have just sounded arrogant, but Nishida knew the boss didn't need to toot his own horn like that; he really was just that good.

"Outside, then?"

"C'mon Nishida, that ain't the kinda stunt ya pull if ya ain't tryin'a get someone's attention." Majima reprimanded him, tapping his head in a gesture clearly meant to tell Nishida to think. The sternness fell suddenly, something mischievous crossed the man's face, and a sly, playful note entering his voice; "but I mean, if you're that itchin' fer a fight..."

"No, no," Nishida raised his hands infront of himself in enphasis of his decline to the 'offer'. "I just--"

"Jus' what? Thought I needed a few good punches to help brighten me up a bit?" the boss taunted, but he didn't sound annoyed at all; no, he sounded amused. "Naah, I ain't that far gone."

A silence fell between them, leaving Nishida room to process the interaction they had just had. He had still failed to come up with a solution for the boss' boredom, and yet there had been no physical consequence to it. They had discussed the idea, and why it was unsuitable - rationally, even; no raised voices, or raised fists. It gave rise to a new hope that the boss wasn't entirely unreasonable; that there was a pattern, there were wires that were safe to cut. There were ways that even a man as volatile as Patriarch Majima could be spoken with cordially; you only needed the patience to find them.

"Tell ya what, I'll give ya one more shot, yeah?" Majima continued in that same, familiar manner. "Miss on this one, an' ya get yer ass thrown out same as the last guy. N' ya can go find me someone else who can think up something good, 'kay?"

Maybe Nishida was wrong about that pattern.

Something in particular the boss said caught his attention, though - 'the last guy'. Hiyama-san.

That was all the confirmation Nishida needed, if there had still been any doubt in his mind. He hadn't been invited here by the boss at all, by name or otherwise - not for recognition, not for anything. He was just the first person unlucky enough for his aniki to run into him; the next sorry sap to be thrown to the Mad Dog, see whether or not he survived.

And now here it was. His final chance.

There was one last idea he thought might be sensible enough to try - a cop-out of a suggestion, to be perfectly honest, but at least a safe one. His only other option would be throwing out something truly ridiculous, something like 'enroll yourself in an online acupuncture course', in the blind hope that the boss might find it funny enough for the idea to stick; but Nishida wasn't enough of a gambler to make that kind of decision.

With the boss at least seeming to be in better spirits, and just a little bit of luck on his side, he might be in with the chance to run this one past him, though - without the looming threat of an imminent beatdown. "Then... what about just taking a walk around the city, stop yourself from feeling cooped up here in the office for a while?" He gave his answer hopefully, "and maybe then, something else might catch you eye that you do want to do whilst you're out as well."

Majima's jovial expression melted into a scowl and he hunched forward from his sitting position, looking as though he were getting ready to pounce. The boss was quick, Nishida had seen as much; it would take precious few seconds for him to grab the tantō at his side and spring forward to strike. He could only clench his eyes shut, and wait for the imminent impact.

His heartbeat sounded loudly in his ears - once, twice, three times--

There was no sensation of being sliced, or stabbed; no feeling of cold steel pressed to his skin in threat. Instead, there was a laugh.

Nishida opened his eyes once more, finding his boss standing again, straightening out the sleeves of his snakeskin jacket. "Yeah, maybe yer right;" he agreed for the first time. "Some fresh air an' inspiration, that's what I need." He crossed the room, closing the short distance that had separated the two of them with a loose, easy stride and planted a hand on Nishida's shoulder, making him jump a little. The smile had found its way back to his face - disarmingly soft, full of promise. "Go grab yer jacket."

"You-- you want me to go with you?" Nishida balked at the idea, questioning why the boss could possibly want him of all people for company. Surely there were plenty of others he could choose from whose presence he would find far more interesting. He could have his pick of anyone in the family - in the whole of the Tojo, even - and who would realistically say no, when his reputation simultaneously inspired such fear and awe? So why him?

"Well yeah," Majima replied, either not realising the meaning of Nishida's question, or dismissing it entirely, mind already set. "I'm not gonna wander around town lookin' like some lost, lonely sack a' shit now, am I? Gotta have some company with me if I'm hittin' places up, right?"

He leaned in closer, snaking the hand on Nishida's shoulder around to bring an entire python-printed arm to rest there. "Besides," he continued, the playful tone of his voice borderlining on something malicious, "other than 'go for a walk', ya ain't actually given me anything to do yet."

Oh. So he had noticed.

The arm around him tightened its grip, threatening to constrict like the coils of the snake it so resembled, leaving no room for escape.

Nishida's entire body tensed, realising his mistake all too late.

That smile of his wasn't comfort, it was knowing - it was there to say he'd already got you all figured out. That you'd landed yourself right where he wanted you, already fallen victim to his savage clutch.

While Nishida was so busy trying to piece Majima together, the man had already seen straight through him, to what he really was - easy prey.

The arm was off of him in an instant, but Nishida remained frozen in place, fully conscious of how utterly trapped he had gotten himself, how futile it would be to even try doing anything else. "Should go take a leak 'fore we head out, too;" the boss' voice said, accompanied by a sharp pat on the back that finally brought him out of that paralysed stupor. "Can't have ya pissin' yerself any more'n ya already have."

Nishida was sure the boss was probably just making light of the utter panic readable on his face - or at the very least, he hoped that was all it was - but he was hardly in any position to contest, not if the distinct sensation of discomfort he was currently feeling had anything to say on the matter. All he could manage was to stumble over a quick 'right; yes, boss'.

All but pushed out of the room, a vision of the night ahead flashed before Nishida's eyes: if he couldn't find Majima whatever entertainment it was he desired, would his patriarch go on to make him the entertainment? He could see himself, laying beaten and bloodied in some darkened side alley, sent to fight a bunch of thugs way out of his league for the boss' personal amusement - the Mad Dog jeering over him, all barking laughter and gnashing teeth.

He was supposed to be cleaning the glass on the axolotl tank right now.

No, no he should never have had a reason to be in this office at all.

What had he gotten himself into?