Chapter Text
Kamurocho, 2015.
6:30AM
It's been a brisk morning in the streets of Kamurocho, with the hustle and bustle of those who live in the land that never sleeps. Dawn had barely broke, the streets still glowing with neon lights.
"God, where is he?"
You sighed. Your boyfriend has been out all day and then some, and he's been doing it often.
There's so much tension between the both of you at home. Not only with his new closed-off body language, but with the suspicious calls he's been receiving. He’d get up and excuse himself when his phone is ringing which has been sending you into a state of paranoia.
…And you were so gracefully gifted with one of the coldest mornings this year. You dove your nose into your coat as the cold air nipped harshly, the skin red and blushed. "Man… My leftovers are getting cold..." You looked over at your takeout bag in annoyance while keeping a steady pace down the sidewalk. A friend had given you a tip about his whereabouts earlier this morning which sent you marching out the door without breakfast. You decided to treat yourself out to a quick bite while on the prowl for the location that was sent.
You flipped open your phone to glaze over the message that sent you flying out of your bed and out the door this morning, the corner of your mouth tugging down at the sight. A blurry image of him and another woman walking down the street with your friend sending messages in all caps over how frantic she was. It would be nice to have a car but just owning one to park it would cost a months worth of rent, the regret of not owning one lingered as you might’ve been able to catch them in time. Speaking of money.. you winced and pulled out your wallet from your pocket to peek inside, only to see what was left after splurging on your meal. It's almost as if a moth could fly out with how empty and barren it was. Your head hung as if you snapped your neck with a strained expression.
The blinding neon lights made it hard to bask in the beautiful darkness of pre-dawn, and was quite difficult to concentrate as well with the crowds of people passing by. It was barely even morning, why aren’t these people in bed?
However, something bright and yellow struck your eye on the curb of the road, sticking out of a pile of frozen snow.
"What? What's this?"
You squatted to get a better look and to pick the object up. It was battered, as if it has been through the wringer, or someone's pocket for many years. The exterior was snake skin and smelled of old leather. So you did what anyone else would do. You opened up the pandora's box to check for its contents and to check the ID.
A confused look took over your face so fast and you could barely comprehend what you saw.
“This ID.. is from the fuckin 80’s?!” You said out loud, some people turning heads but continuing to walk by. This ID expired decades ago! The photo was of a man with a slender face and prominent cheekbones. He had a blunt black haircut and two eyes, a bit of fuzz on his upper lip. He also had a gold chain and a golden dated button up. This guy has gotta be in a retirement home by now. Either way, you closed the wallet and your head scanned the area as if he’d magically turn up. If someone kept an expired ID this long, it must’ve been important. Or the guy really didn’t care to get a new one. The insides of the wallet held a stale lingering warmth, a sign that it was only abandoned recently.
You stood back up straight with a crack of your knees and couldn’t help but look at his ID one more time.
“Majima Goro.."
You read the name out.
While you were out, you decided to add that if you saw him you would simply give it back. You were in the process for looking for someone anyway, so it was only natural. You looked through shady alleys as you passed them, passed the location you were sent by your friend, peeked into windows of several POPPO marts and even the park. Each little landmark turning up empty and uneventful, each step brewing the irritation within you even deeper.
“Ugh.. what am I even doing?!” You said in frustration, kicking some melted snow with your boot. You were so angry that all you wanted to do was find him and confront him. But there was also no sign of the person the wallet belonged to. You sighed hard after a tired day of searching for nothing and sat your bum on a nearby bench to take a rest. Your hands found themselves rubbing over your face to try and self-soothe, palms rubbing the irritation off as if it was really there. You could’ve spent your day watching TV, or waiting for him by the door while it’s locked to chew him out. You were as stubborn and cat-scratch as they came and refused to let him blow smoke over you again with the whole ‘it’s a misunderstanding’ speech kept you running in circles because you never had proof… That was.. until today.
Guurgle ..
Great.
You opened your leftovers and placed it on your lap to munch on after working back up an appetite. At this pace, it would never make it back home to the fridge before going bad. While eating, you thought of the man from the ID photo, pulling out his wallet once more and rubbing your thumb over the smooth grooves of the scaly snakeskin. It felt soothing in a way. The very gentle bumps and how it tickled the skin. There was a curiosity that kept welling up inside of you as the longer the wallet remained in your hand, the more tempted you were to open it... Opening it back up you shamelessly dug at the contents and discovered more about the person he was.
An old pocket circuit racing membership, a receipt for a.. you squinted your eyes and leaned in to be sure… “officer uniform?”
Was he a cop? Some baseball cards.
You almost failed to notice the man walk by in all his glory.
You took a double take. The hair, the cheekbones, the gold chain.. You quickly took the last bite of your leftover meal, tossing it into the trash bin next to you without your eyes leaving him and watched his demeanor with eyes as wide as the moon. He seemed agitated. All worked up while his head turned to look at various places.
He was probably looking for his wallet.
That you had open, with the contents out..
He mumbled curses under his breath and his one good eye noticed the bench. Once he turned his head, you noticed the eyepatch… Then the irezumi that poked out from the sides of his jacket. He was no citizen like you thought he was, he was yakuza. You suddenly felt nauseous and stiff as he made his way to sit himself on the opposite side of you with enough space between strangers, letting out a long sigh. He rubbed his knees with his hands as if they ached like an athlete after a marathon. "What a fuckin' day..."
He was definitely talking to himself, but you were probably the only person in the world that knew about what was going on in his head.
He laid his head back on the headboard of the bench for a hot minute, a groan of relief leaving his lips before his gaze flicked over to you for a moment. But he blinked and looked back at what was in front of him. In a blur his spine snapped straight and his eye was deadlocked on your hand. You wasted no time stuffing the baseball card you were admiring back into the slit of the wallet and jumped from your seat like a wound up spring.
His gaze immediately shifted from his wallet to your face. It was enough to turn someone into stone with that dark stoic eye. If you weren’t sweating from running around Kamurocho all day, you were definitely breaking a sweat now.
"I'm-I'm sorry! It's not what it looks like! I swear!" You shook your head in a panicked craze with beads of sweat forming on your forehead. Eyes darting from his tattoo that clearly stated he was the one person in Japan you didn’t want to fuck with. How lucky.
Majima perked up quickly. "Oi! Calm it, yer gonna wake up the damn dead screaming like that."
You clasped a hand over your mouth with a loud smack.
Majima took a minute to take her in. She had the aura of a chihuahua. Did she think he was going to mince her into meat over a wallet? Maybe. He let out an airy chuckle and shook his head, almost in relief. "Y'know, this ain't no big deal, alright? Coulda been much worse wrestlin' it out of the hands of some beefcake." Your shoulders slightly slumped in relief, he’s much more charismatic as he looks. "Now it looks like I gotta wrestle it out of some girl, huh?" You immediately tensed back up. "No! No, no I can just give it back, take it!" She quickly handed his wallet over as if she was giving him her business card.
You looked up and saw the biggest shit-eating grin you had ever seen.
Suddenly, you felt your face burn… it was embarrassment. The nerves that flared within you over how anxious he made you was just making you feel like you weren’t being civil enough. Why was he smiling like that? Majima was much more than pleased and cackled a cackle that nobody else could. All he needed was a magic broomstick.
You furrowed her brows at him, so much for being too loud and waking the dead. With the events of today you felt that embarrassment quickly turn into a new emotion, anger. You glared and wasted no time standing back up straight. Majima took his wallet that she had in her business card position and placed it in his pocket. "Haa.. Yer just too good. I'd never go n' wrestle ya even IF ya actually stole my wallet. Ain't in the Majima code." You rolled your eyes and sat in relief once more. "That's good… I guess.” Man, now that he has his wallet it’s time to make a break for it. You knew better to mess with the yakuza, he could have some shady things up his sleeve. You were thinking of ways of politely excusing yourself but once he sat forward your eyes finally undressed all of his features. His goatee was nicely kept for someone so rugged and his cheekbones were ever so prominent and handsome.
There was a very strange unconventional attractiveness to him, even if he looked like a malnourished Disney villain.
Your eyes wandered past the yakuza and landed on the cafe across the street. The breath instantly left your lungs. Sitting right there in the window was your boyfriend. And sitting across from him, hands intertwined with his, was a woman you had never seen before. The angry, vindictive confrontation you had rehearsed all morning vanished, replaced by a cold, heavy dread in your stomach. You froze, the neon lights suddenly feeling too bright, the street noise too loud. Before you could stop them, hot tears began to prick your eyes. You had to get out of here.
What a terrible time for this to happen. The air between you and Majima fell silent as you watched them probably make goo-goo eyes at one another and felt yourself begin to sniffle. Shit, now? You were trying to blink your tears away and turned your body away from Majima. You weren’t about to cry in front of a stranger, especially him. Majima was an oddball, but he wasn't dumb and caught on once he looked behind him over the bench. You pushed the palms of your hands against your eyes as if to push the tears back in and wiped any moisture that might’ve dripped through. It was awkward, your mind feeling buzzy and anxious and having the urge to be anywhere but here so you quickly stood back up from your seat.
"I really gotta go. I'm glad I could give you your wallet back." Was all you said. In a haste, you charged off in a quick stride. You were a coward. It was like waiting in a long line all day to reach a water slide at a water park only to be too afraid to slide down and disappointing everyone, and yourself. Majima found himself in fight or flight mode. He opened his mouth to speak as if to stop her but quickly pressed his lips together as you made your strides further and further away.
He didn’t really get himself wrapped up in other people’s drama.
Opening his wallet, he lazily looked inside. His ID from his early years still there, staring back at him as if he could imagine it telling him he’d regret not helping her later. His fingers flipped through the slits and found every bill still in place. She really just wanted to give it back.
“Fuuuck..”
He was clouded by his conscience. Welp, time to get moving.
Majima’s head rolled and he cursed under his breath some more and got up with a tired sigh. With echoed taps of his shoes and a hand waving for her attention, he chased the girl who found herself blocks away already. "Aye! Slow down for a damn sec!" He breathed out. You were startled to hear the voice behind you and stopped dead in your tracks to turn around, hand to your chest as if you were clutching imaginary pearls. You held a look of confusion, an eyebrow raised and your mouth pushed to one side your face.
“Majima?” Came out in more of a question from you.
Majima walked towards her and pulled out his beloved wallet, pinching it between his finger and thumb and shaking it for emphasis. He could sense your eyes held some sort of awkward uncertainty about him. “Ya didn’t take a single bill, and she’s in one piece. There’s a buncha greedy fucks out here who would give anything for a lost wallet holding a couple of bucks. I could care less bout’ the cash being stolen, got plenty, but it’s the idea of them stealin’ what ain’t theirs that pisses me off the most.”
You found yourself fiddling with the edge of your coat, not confident enough to speak yet but thankfully he kept talking.
“Tells me yer an honest person, and I wanna help ya.”
Help me? How can a stranger help with any of this. It was completely out of his ballpark. You held a look of uncertainty still, but you felt the anger of being betrayed by someone you trusted well inside of you again. Your hands collected into fists at your side and an angry look took over your face, as if tasting something sour.
Majima looked satisfied by that.
“No, it was wrong of me to think I could just waltz up in there and confront him.”
Your fists softened and the anger was short lived. The corner of Majima’s mouth dipped.
“Why not?” He asked bluntly.
“Because..”
You really couldn’t come up with a good excuse or reason. But one thing came to mind. Regret. You would regret walking away from this, you would regret wasting all of this time and building up the self respect to find him and do it, and get the final proof you needed to shove his face into his own consequences. You WERE spiteful, you WERE angry. Your eyes finally found themselves giving Majima a more trusting and understanding look. You nodded your head.
A grin formed on Majima’s face and suddenly you felt the heaviest arm you think could ever exist on your shoulders. An ‘oof’ left your mouth as he steered you back towards the direction of the bench and cafe. Being much closer to him, you noted the strong smell of cigarettes.
“What, you got a plan? I’m just following your lead, you know..”
You could just hear his grin widen, he seemed excited about this.
“Ya.. you do that.”
Probably wanting to get a piece of teaching an infidel the taste of his own medicine. You and Majima now stood at the crosswalk that lead straight to the cafe and he finally let go of you. The missing weight on your shoulder so light you felt like you were going to float away.
You became more and more uneasy about not knowing what the plan was, almost pleading for the red crosswalk light and traffic to freeze.
He suddenly held his hand out for you to grab. You stared at it before looking back up at him dumbfounded.
“Dammit! just grab it. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
He said impatiently with a roll of his eye and a grabby motion of his hand. It suddenly dawned on you what the plan was, and you felt a sudden urge to run away with heat rising within your clothes.
“Aha! Y-yeah…” you hesitated, grabbing his warm gloved hand as he walked you across the crosswalk once the ‘walk’ symbol finally flashed.
"One thing first, ya gotta tell me that name of yers." He stood near the door of the cafe, not quite going inside yet. He.. didn’t let go of your hand. "Oh crap, I never told you?" You said and mentally facepalmed. How could you forget to introduce yourself?
Majima shook his head, clueless.
"It's Y/N L/N"
"Ahh, looks like I'll have to call ya Y/N-chan!"
...
"What!?"
Your emotions have gone across the country, all because of one guy. Majima looked disappointed. "C'mmonn Y/N-chan, we have to pretend. How else is the bumblefuck going to believe us?" Majima had a point. If they wanted to seem believable they had to act like a couple. It was just to rub salt on the wound you suppose. He could sense your uncertainty so he gave some words of encouragement.
“Look, I ain’t gonna do anythin’ to make ya uncomfortable. I’m just gonna make sure he don’t try and lay a damn finger on ya and fuck with his head when he sees ya with me.”
You suddenly felt your lips part at him, your eyes looking at him with a newfound curiosity.
“Whatever I do, just tell me if yer uncomfortable. I’ll be pissed if ya don’t. Got it?”
“Got it.”
He pushed open the heavy glass door, the cheerful jingle of the overhead bells cutting through your nervous haze. The cafe's aroma hit you instantly—a rich, fragrant blend of roasting espresso beans and warm pastries that felt entirely at odds with the frantic beating of your heart.
Suddenly, Majima’s arm slid firmly around your waist. His grip was warm and grounding through your coat, seamlessly steering you down the aisle of booths deeper into the cafe. It only dawned on you a second later that he had purposefully guided you right past the booth where your boyfriend sat with the other woman. You weren’t uncomfortable; if anything, a sick, vindictive thrill began to bubble up in your chest to replace the anxiety.
Majima made sure you were seated in a corner booth before sliding in across from you, sprawling out comfortably. Menus quickly materialized in front of you both, offering endless options of delicate sandwiches and artisan coffees that you had zero appetite for.
"Majima-san... er, -chan," you started, anxiously drumming your fingers against the polished tabletop. "I have a feeling this isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this.” He just seemed so confident, slipping into the role of a protective boyfriend effortlessly.
“Nah, it ain’t," he agreed, shaking his head with a low, raspy chuckle. "Did somethin' like this once in my twenties when I needed to pretend to be a chick’s boyfriend to fool her daddy.”
He leaned back, completely unbothered. “The guy knew it was a facade but ended up actually wantin' me to date his daughter, and no way in hell I could be in a relationship at the time. Hell... the guy even volunteered to date me, too. What a fuckin’ time that was.”
You could feel your jaw physically drop. He delivered the story so nonchalantly that he could have claimed he invented concrete and you’d probably believe him. “Man, must've been a catch if you had the dad pining too...”
As you spoke, your eyes wandered past Majima's shoulder. Your stomach plummeted. Across the cafe, a pair of wide, furious eyes was locked onto your booth. It was him. You felt your throat clench up, your brows furrowing involuntarily, but you quickly forced yourself to look away before you made it obvious.
“Oi, don’t worry about if he’s lookin’ or not," Majima said softly, tapping the side of his own head. "He’s already aware, and it’s fuckin' with his head."
But your body seemed to move entirely on its own. The anger, the betrayal, and the sheer audacity of seeing him with another woman boiled over into one reckless impulse.
You leaned over the table, your hands darting out to grab Majima by the lapels of his snakeskin blazer. He let out a sharp noise of surprise—a quiet, inaudible 'what the'—as you yanked him forward. His solitary eye went wide, but he didn’t pull away, clearly already resigned to whatever chaotic script you were writing.
You kissed him right over the table. It wasn’t long, and it wasn’t feverish. It was exactly what kissing a stranger felt like: a little awkward, tasting faintly of tobacco.
When you let go and sank back into your seat, the air between you was thick. Majima sat perfectly still, his eye wider than before, clearly reassessing exactly what kind of person you were.
And right on cue, a shadow fell over your table.
Your boyfriend stood there, arms folded, his face tight and unreadable. The goofy, fake-dating bubble popped instantly.
“Y/N... what the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice low and venomous. "Aren’t you supposed to be home?”
Your brief flash of panic hardened into a scowl. “I’m busy. Busy thinking about all of your shit I’m about to throw out of my apartment.”
His expression snapped. Before you could blink, his hand shot out, his fingers digging harshly into your upper arm. He yanked you half-out of your seat so he could hiss in your ear, trying to avoid a public scene.
“Who the fuck is that?” he spat.
“I could ask you the same question," you shot back, narrowing your eyes as you tried to pull away. "It’s over. I just needed to see it with my own eyes. Clearly, she doesn’t even know what kind of man she’s got coming over every night.”
His grip tightened painfully on your arm, and a sharp wince escaped your lips.
Then, the ambient noise of the cafe seemed to vanish. A heavy, dangerous stillness rolled over the booth. A body smoothly slipped between the two of you.
It was Majima.
He didn’t say a single word. He didn't have to. The terrifying, ice-cold aura radiating off him was enough to make your ex drop your arm like it burned him. You rubbed the aching spot, your heart hammering against your ribs. Before your ex could even process who he was dealing with, Majima wrapped a stiff, unyielding arm around his neck and shoulder, casually and forcefully marching him toward the cafe's exit.
You stood rooted to the ground, blinking in stunned silence. Majima was yakuza. The memory of kissing him vanished, instantly replaced by a swarm of anxiety. Was he going to kill him?
The girl your ex had been sitting with scrambled out of her booth and bolted out the door after them. But you could help but be momentarily rooted to the ground in shock. You eventually managed to move your legs, partially thankful Majima took it outside with some of the nosey glances you were receiving from the crowd of the cafe.
You burst outside into the brisk morning air. Surprisingly, the peace of the street was intact—for now.
“What, ya got a fetish for domestic violence?! Ya don’t touch a woman,” Majima barked.
He stood firmly on the sidewalk, arms crossed, looking more bored than angry. Your ex, however, was ruffled and humiliated. He was hooting and hollering, jabbing a finger in Majima's direction while his mystery woman hovered safely out of range. You heard something among ‘who do you think you are’ and ‘old man.’
“Majima! Don’t hurt the guy!” you called out, jogging up to the curb.
Majima turned his head toward you.
“I ain’t doin' nothin'!”
He put both of his hands up to show he wasn’t touching him. That was when your ex made the worst mistake of his life. Seeing Majima distracted, he swung his leg up, his foot colliding directly with Majima’s junk.
The color drained from your face. But Majima didn't double over. He didn't even flinch. He just stood there, taking the blow like he was made of concrete, a dark, terrifying shadow crossing his features. Your ex realized his mistake a second too late and bolted down the street. Majima Practically ate the blow up like breakfast and you half expected him to be rolling on the floor but there he was booking after him as if it was an invitation to whoop his ass in a flash of yellow.
It didn’t take long for him to catch up. You could still see the two far down the sidewalk. Majima had grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him on the ground. two black silhouettes in the night under the Kamurocho lights only slightly lit by the nearby Poppo mart where Majima was kicking the shit out of him. You heard a distant string of creative curses from Majima, clearly, you don’t kick a distracted man in the junk. Especially not his. The man below him clearly got a good taste of his steel tipped shoes and only when he was unconscious did Majima stop kicking him.
The sight of Majima walking back to you… it made you feel a little queasy. You weren’t really afraid of him, but the memory of kissing him earlier in the booth had started rooting into your brain and you knew you’d have to digest the topic later. You could care less about what happened to you know who.
Majima was finally in front of you.
“He hit me first, ya know.”
“I know.”
“In my-“
“I know!”
You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. You tried your best not to look at him and kept your face scrunched between your finger and thumb.
“Ya know, I don’t think I’ve ever kissed a stranger in public before. Ya got some balls y/n-chan!~”
And there it was. You finally looked at him with a squinted eye. He was practically beaming with that stupid smile on his face. Maybe he had some sort of weird thrill from it all too.
“You don’t need to call me y/n-chan anymore! The guy is sleeping Kamurocho’s biggest puddle right now.”
Majima clicked his tongue with a tilt of his head, looking to the side completely forgetting the facade was over now. “Oh, ya… well, it fits ya.” A slick black car had slowly pulled up next to the curb where you both had been standing, the driver a man with a large yellow hard-hat. He stepped out from his door to beeline around the car to the door, opening it for Majima to step inside.
“Welp! That’s my cue girlie. Got business to tend’ to. If ya ever find yourself in a pickle go ahead and call me. But uh.. don’t abuse it, will ya?” Majima pulled out the wallet that was stuffed neatly in his pocket. He dug his fingers into the slit of the leather and pulled out the receipt you were looking at earlier, scribbling something on it and handing it to you. It was clear he just wanted you safe and took a new liking to you as a civilian.
“See ya.”
Was all he said with a lazy wave before stepping into the vehicle. You heard the crackle of the gravel underneath rubber tires and you knew he was gone, your eyes just never left the receipt. Your mind was overthinking about what getting his number meant but tried to rationalize that it clearly wasn’t a romantic thing. You felt a strange sadness that you’d probably wouldn’t see him again if unless you were in serious trouble. In a yellow blur on the concrete sidewalk below you in your peripheral vision past the receipt between your fingers, you noticed an object on the floor.
His wallet.
You facepalmed.
“Damnit.”