Work Text:
Daigo had heard of Taiga Saejima before, of course. Everyone in the Tojo Clan knows about the so-called Tiger of the Tojo, as much a legend as the Mad Dog of Shimano. Any mystique surrounding him had been well and truly dispelled by three years of having to actually deal with Majima. Loyal to whoever held his leash, certainly, and cleverer than he lets on, but one too many meetings spent with his dog’s feet up on the table had left him wishing, yet again, for Kiryu to come back and take the burden of the clan away.
Still felt guilty as anything about having to turn Majima in, though. He expects the Mad Dog to bite back after that. It would be no less than he deserved. Kiryu’s goodwill can only take him so far.
Instead, Majima grins at him, as wide and obnoxious as ever, when Daigo meets him on his way out of prison. “Chairman! You ain’t the face I was hopin’ to see.”
“I understand,” Daigo says. “You have my sincerest apologies, Majima-san.”
Majima rolls his eyes at that. “Yer no fun. Why waste time hemming and hawing — heh — like it’s another one of HQ's pointless meetings? Tojo Clan might be on hard times, but you can still cover a night on the town, huh? Best apologies come with a drink or ten.”
Daigo’s not surprised, but his head already aches at the idea of having to keep up with Majima tonight. Keeping the Tojo from the fallout of everything with Munakata has been an exhausting, thankless endeavor, not the least of which because it’s his own damn fault the Clan’s in this mess. But Majima’s his fault, too, and he owes him this much.
“Let’s —”
Majima’s not looking at him. Daigo’s used to such inattentiveness from his lieutenant, or at least the appearance of it, but he isn’t used to the expression on his face as he stares at something behind Daigo. Not unguarded, Daigo doesn’t think Majima could ever let his guard down, but somehow wrenched open anyway. Eye wide with disbelief and hunger and something Daigo would be hard-pressed to call anything other than affection.
Unsure of what could net that reaction from Majima, of all people, Daigo’s half-expecting one of Majima’s men to be there holding out his bat and someone to hit with it when he turns to see what has his advisor’s attention. Instead, there’s Saejima.
Daigo can’t read the other man half so well, but he’s smiling, just slightly. “Kyodai.”
“Saejima,” Majima says, voice rough with an emotion Daigo doesn’t want to parse. He abruptly wishes he hadn’t been here at all, actually, interrupting whatever reunion awaits them. He certainly wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to linger on if he had a chance to reunite with his own oath brother. Not that he ever would, but there’s no point in indulging whatever bitter jealousy surges through him at the thought.
“Another time, then,” Daigo says, and turns to leave.
Majima grips his shoulder, not kindly, holding him so he’s stuck staring at Saejima like an idiot. For his part, he looks unsurprised by Majima’s antics, or from the rapid-fire pace of the words that spill from his mouth right after. “Drinks are overrated, really. Only takes a couple shots of strong enough swill ‘fore it all tastes the same. Got a better idea for how you can make it up to me.”
“A fight?” Daigo asks, hesitantly. He feels like he’s almost entirely made of up bruises and aches left after facing Kiryu only a few days back. He also has the dubious honor of being one of the few who's never been on the receiving end of Majima's violence, though admittedly he's never been sure if that's from Maijma's respect or his indifference. Or, for that matter, which would be worse to lose.
Majima scoffs, just like he does in all the meetings he disparages and yet showed up to every time Daigo needed him there. He can picture his expression well — eye rolled up in disdain, sneering enough to show his teeth. “Not if yer gonna sound all pathetic about it. Had somethin’ else in mind anyway.”
Whatever Saejima’s seeing in Majima’s expression, there’s a fond exasperation in the smile he returns to him. Yet another thing Daigo shouldn’t be here to witness. He keeps the tension out of his tone when he asks, “Which was?”
Majima asks it in a low enough voice that it won’t carry to Saejima, demanding his oath brother get a family of his own. Frankly, Majima hadn’t needed to call on Daigo’s debt to him for that. Twenty-five years on death row is a sentence no yakuza would turn their nose up at, let alone when the one who faced it did so without complaint and broke out only to solve what feels like at least a fourth of all the Tojo Clan’s problems at once, and that before the fact he’s built like the truck he hits as hard as. Even Kiryu had mentioned offhand that Saejima had fought him and won; whether Kiryu was going easy on him or not, anyone who capable of that is worthy of respect.
Majima chooses to tell Saejima about this great responsibility by sauntering up to him the second Daigo nods his assent and saying, “Got somethin’ new for you to fight me about, Taiga.” His tone’s all…off, as dramatic as ever but somehow earnest where before it always dripped with sarcasm. It’s jarring.
“Hm,” Saejima says, unsurprised by the use of his first name without an honorific. Daigo tries to beat a hasty retreat now that Majima’s let go of him. “You could just ask.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Majima asks, outraged, a smile audible in his voice until Daigo’s entirely out of earshot.
Saejima makes a much more reasonable patriarch than his closeness with Majima may have led Daigo to suspect. He is loyal and respectful to his own former patriarch, using some of the first money he earns as patriarch to give Sasai somewhere better to stay than Purgatory. He shows a surprising level of business acumen in managing any business his family’s involved in. (Perhaps less surprising when Daigo hears about the support the Mad Dog offers each and every one of said businesses, whether in the form of advice or in lavishly tipping the girls despite having sat with them for no more than a few minutes before bothering the owner.) He’s pleasant to talk to, even, curious about the world he spent twenty-five years away from but resolute in his focus whenever there’s something important to focus on.
More importantly, he makes Majima…settle. He’s still the Mad Dog, still showy and obnoxious and loud, but if Saejima is at a meeting, Majima will show up on time and without even kicking the door in upon arrival. He’ll wait until the end to start complaining about the ordeal of having sat through it, rather than waiting until someone other than Daigo is speaking.
If anything, losing that is the biggest reason Daigo is hesitant to agree with Saejima’s plan to go back to prison. It’s not without merit — he’s clearly got a future in the Tojo Clan, and serving his time now so he can’t get caught up on an assault charge ten years down the line when Daigo really can’t lose him isn’t the worst idea — but rebuilding all they’d lost is already frustrating enough without Majima back to…well. Majima.
He almost wishes he’d been right about that after Saejima turns himself in. Instead, Majima mopes. It’s disquieting.
The whites of his eyes flash when Majima notices Daigo watching him during yet another endless budget meeting they're both required to attend, noting the changes, not enjoying them. He grins at him, unpleasant and goading. Used to this, Daigo doesn’t entertain the bait. Majima lingers rather than rushing out like he usually does after everything necessary is discussed. Daigo waits, patient. Majima will latch onto any discomfort he shows and twist the knife. Literally, if Daigo’s pissed him off enough.
Majima lets the silence sit just long enough that even Daigo’s uncomfortable before he asks, “Somethin’ on my face?”
“No,” Daigo says.
Majima bats his eye, mocking. It looks more like there’s an eyelash stuck in it than flirtation. “Why, rokudaime. Little old me caught your eye, huh? Always figured you had a thing for older men, y’know. Or else —”
“Majima-san,” Daigo interrupts, already annoyed. “You miss Saejima.”
The only sign that Majima’s surprised by the words is the barest widening of his eye. Less satisfyingly, the surprise melts into a snarl not a moment later. “Don’t recall askin’ your opinion on him.”
“I do, too,” Daigo says.
He means for the words to soothe Majima, or at least interrupt whatever bullshit tangent he’s going down. Instead, it only makes the snarl wider. “Oughta mind your business, Chairman. You don’t — he ain’t yours.”
Daigo smiles. Just a small one, but he can’t help it. For all Majima’s cleverness, he’s easy to rile up, if you know the right angle to take and don’t get scared off by the very real threat of a bat to the face and a tanto to the gut. “No, he isn’t. But I miss having him here. He made a fine patriarch.”
Majima huffs, breaking eye contact for the first time since the meeting ended. “‘Course he did. Does. Clan doesn’t deserve him.”
There’s more to that sentiment, something Daigo’s missing, but he doesn’t care to pry. Majima’s grip on the table is already white-knuckled, and he’d rather not push his luck. Not now. Maybe when Saejima is out and Majima has an outlet for his violence other than, well, violence. “We’re lucky to have him.”
“You got no idea,” Majima says, and leaves without another word. Daigo doesn’t bother to investigate the sounds of things breaking the moment Majima’s out of eyeshot. The Mad Dog knows better than to destroy anything that matters.