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Majima knew he’d fucked up.
He’d put a debtor in the hospital.
Now, a broken arm alone may not have raised any eyebrows, but Majima had stabbed the man a little too close to a main artery and as he’d watched him slip into unconsciousness, he knew he had no choice but to call an ambulance unless he wanted the inconvenience of disposing of a dead body.
He'd hurried away from the scene shortly after making the call, but circled back around, hiding amongst the crowd of onlookers to make sure that the man had been stabilised by the arriving paramedics.
Thank fuck he hadn’t killed him.
That didn't change the fact that an unconscious man with stab wounds would still mean questions and questions meant police. While Majima certainly considered it a small victory that the man was still breathing, he was certain that Shimano would not see it that way. Even ignoring the potential involvement of the police, at the end of the day, a debtor in hospital couldn’t be easily pursued for their debt and prior to today, this one had been quite the whale for the family.
He clenched his fist in anger at his own lack of self control as he headed towards Shimano’s office. He knew his patriarch wouldn't accept it as an excuse but the debtor had goaded him even as he had threatened him with his tanto, saying that the Mad Dog had probably never even split a drop of blood with it.
Well, at least the man knew now, that he had definitely spilled more than a drop.
He arrived at his impending doom, the door to Shimano’s office stood menacingly in front of him and he felt the need to suck in air to brace himself before knocking on it but there was no need to knock. The low and controlled fury of his boss’ voice came from the other side before he even raised his hand.
‘Get in here Majima...’
‘Shit…’ He muttered to himself before sliding the door open. He cursed himself for wearing his steel capped shoes and not stepping more lightly up the corridor.
He entered the room and he bowed at the waist before sliding the door shut behind him. Shimano’s ‘office’, if it could be called that, was relatively bare. A traditional Japanese setting with little furniture apart from a small table in front of him with an ornate tea set and a pack of cigars on top. A drinks cabinet with a small selection of expensive liquors sat off to the side, however, he paid it little mind. His attention was firmly on the centre of the room as just beyond the table, Shimano sat in his usual purple suit, cross legged with his arms folded and a sneer on his lips.
Majima’s suicidal brain briefly contemplated asking him if the wind had changed while he’d been gone. 'Hey boss… funny story I got for ya…'
‘Sit.’ His boss commanded.
The interruption caught him off guard and broke the laughable story he had concocted in his head about how the debtor had ended up so grievously injured. Instead, without saying another word, Majima obeyed and knelt down. His eye on the floor and his hands planted on his knees in supplication.
He suddenly wished he had worn his signature leather trousers and snakeskin jacket, believing that the outfit would have given him the confidence to face Shimano's displeasure, especially as his boss had been very vocal about not liking his new look. But tonight the weather was below freezing and even with his masochistic predisposition, he hadn't wanted to lose his nipples to frostbite. Instead, he was wearing his black and red suit that he normally reserved for formal clan occasions.
‘I heard you put a guy in the hospital today.’ Shimano said nonchalantly as he reached for the pack of cigars to withdraw one.
Majima knew that now was not the time to speak even after he had initially tried to inject some brevity into the situation. Any attempt to defend his actions would simply make his punishment worse. He did however reach into his suit jacket for his lighter, knowing his boss would have need of it soon.
‘I know you got your mad dog reputation to uphold, but save it for guys who ain't going to squeal to the cops about being extorted…’ Shimano continued as he brought the cigar to his lips. Majima instantly leaned forward across the table, his lighter in hand as he flicked the catch. The bright flame danced around the end of the cigar and he heard his boss breath in to help the flame take. Shortly after, red embers let him know his job was done, but before he could withdraw, Shimano suddenly grabbed his hair with one of his huge hands and twisted the strands painfully.
‘You listenin' to me Majima?!’ He roared at him.
‘...ya boss, I hear ya.’ Majima replied quietly, trying to keep his tone even despite the fact his hair roots were screaming in agony as Shimano continued to hold him. He knew his boss enjoyed it when he let his emotions get the better of him and he was determined not to give him the satisfaction.
Unimpressed with the lack of obvious contrition that Shimano would have expected from anyone else in the family, the large man got to his feet, taking Majima’s hair and by extension the rest of his body along with him. ‘How many times do I have to punish you before it sticks?’ He snarled at him, spittle frothing ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth.
‘...Guess I’m a slow learner…’ Majima replied, allowing himself a slight smirk. Fuck, he just couldn’t help himself could he?
Shimano’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared angrily as he pulled back his arm and slammed Majima’s head down with all his might, sending his body crashing through the table underneath him. Shards of wood and crockery exploded across the floor in the wake of his rage.
‘Fucking brat.’ He spat.
Majima lay still for a moment before shakily lifting his head. Something dribbled down his cheek and he swiped his face with a finger to reveal that the substance was not just tea from the broken pot as he had hoped, but his own blood. He traced the source to a piece of porcelain cup that had wedged itself in his face under his good eye. The shard had not gone in too deep but he still winced as he pulled it out. Had it been a centimetre further up, there was a good chance it would have blinded him.
The grim realisation made Majima decide that now was possibly a good time to offer an apology to his enraged patriarch. ‘Sorry boss...I got carried away.’ He said in a low quiet tone. His mad dog swagger slipped away as he reverted to his 'grand' persona where the customer, or in this instance, Shimano, was king. It was a side of himself that he wanted so desperately to leave buried in Sotenbori forever, but Shimano was able to draw it out of him, the only one who could.
His half hearted apology at least seemed to placate his boss whose eyes and voice shifted subtly to that of a parent chastising a child. ‘Tch...and you’ve broken my table. Not a good night for you huh?’ Shimano settled himself back down on the floor directly in front of Majima’s face and tapped a bit of ash away from the cigar that he was still miraculously holding. The heat from the cinder was closer to Majima’s remaining eye than he would have liked but he managed not to flinch.
Shimano pulled the cigar back and took another drag, his eyes narrowed at him as blew smoke back in Majima’s face. ‘You know what to do....and don’t make it a fight today.’
Regrettably, Majima did know what to do and what the consequences would be if he didn’t comply. He crawled through the splintered wreckage of the table and porcelain tea set around him and towards his boss’ crotch. Shimano opened his legs to allow him better access and then leaned back on his free hand, a satisfied grin on his face as he continued to enjoy his tobacco fix.
Once he was close enough, still on his stomach, Majima propped himself up on elbows and let his hands wander to his boss’ belt to undo it. There was no nervousness in the action as he worked, after all he was well practiced at this now and after pulling down the zip of his purple suit trousers, he pulled out Shimano’s extremely fat and semi hard cock without hesitation. He gave the member a few cursory pumps before he wrapped his lips around his patriarch’s dick and slowly took the length of it down his throat in a mechanical like fashion.
His stomach churned in both disgust and anticipation as he started to bop his head up and down. He hated the feeling of the latter.
It hadn’t always been like this, Majima wordlessly compiling with whatever his boss wanted. In the early days of his time in the hole, he had fought tooth and nail against Shimano’s ‘advances’ and back then he had experienced nothing but nausea during their encounters.
But after he’d gotten out, Sagawa had put him back together again and for a time he’d thought that his nightmare was over. He’d told himself, that the rape had simply been part of his punishment and now that he was out of the hole, it wouldn’t happen again. Sure, Sagawa had beaten the shit out of him on more than one occasion but at least he let Majima keep most of his clothes on while he did it.
Then Sagawa died.
That evening, after hearing the news, Shimano, in his despair at his kyoudai’s death, had started drinking heavily and Majima, as his newly appointed captain, felt compelled to stay with him at the office. At some point Shimano’s cheeks had even become wet with tears and Majima decided then that it would be best to send the rest of the men home, not wanting them to see their patriarch in such a sorry state.
In truth, it shocked him to see Shimano giving a shit about anyone apart from himself and Sagawa’s death ignited a small spark of empathy in him for the cruel bastard, given that he too had experienced the loss of his own kyoudai in a manner of speaking. Majima also wasn't entirely unaffected by news that Sagawa was gone himself. While his self declared prison keeper had been a malicious prick to him back in Sotenbori, he had ultimately kept his promise to get him back in Tojo Clan, even if the method wasn't exactly the way he had intended.
But once the pair were alone in the office, something in the air changed. In an effort to try and comfort him, Majima had joined his boss in drinking to Sagawa’s memory but Shimano seemed to sober up remarkably quickly, especially after he was informed that his captain had sent the family away. Despite the small sense of danger prickling on the back of his neck, Majima had continued to share stories about the recently deceased and they had drank more into the late hours of the night.
Well, at least Majima had drank more. For someone as experienced as him in the cabaret industry, he really should have spotted that Shimano was either watering down his own drinks or simply throwing them away but his empathy blinded him to the obvious. By the time he noticed Shimano's heavy gaze was on him, he had drunk so much that he was struggling to stand.
In what he thought was an uncharacteristic moment of kindness for a man who sent his enemies to the hell that was the hole, his boss told him to use the office to sleep it off. That should have been the final red flag that something was seriously wrong, instead Majima chalked it up to Shimano being sentimental and possibly drunk himself and so without further thought, he rolled over to bed down for the night on the office floor.
But whatever alcohol or sentimentality remained in Shimano’s system was not enough to stop him from pinning Majima to the floor and raping him again. The memory of what happened next came in pieces owing to his inebriation: whiskey and vomit burning at the back of his throat as his boss shoved him face down on the tatami. Fingers grasping at his hips as his trousers and underwear were pulled down roughly and Shimano’s ugly mug leering over him as he shoved himself inside his unprepared ass.
‘Think of this as making amends for letting down your kyoudai.’ Shimano had said as he struggled underneath him. The suggestion stilled his body in shock as the words alone weighed him down and filled him with self hatred. A part of his brain fully agreed that this was a fitting punishment for failing his sworn brother and that he should take it without complaint. After all, it would be nothing compared to what Saejima was likely going through in prison.
The next day, his head groggy from his hangover and his body aching in pain, Majima concluded that the nightmare he’d experienced in the hole was not over, only paused for a brief interlude.
The next time Shimano attacked him, Majima had tried to fight back but even sober, his boss had still beaten him, a foot crushing his head to the floor once again confirming that his boss didn’t lack for his own physical prowess. He seriously wondered if there was a man in the entire Tojo Clan who could beat him...well maybe he could but the Dragon of Dojima wasn’t likely to storm the Shimano castle and come to his rescue anytime soon. The truth was Majima’s heart had never been up to the task of defending himself. Shimano’s words about letting down Saejima still echoed in his head every time he tried and that served as enough of a handicap for the patriarch to overpower him.
Now, after months of Shimano fucking him whenever the opportunity arose, Majima had learned not to fight it. Shimano soon grew bored of having to fight him to fuck him and found that it was easier to simply threaten him with expulsion instead, knowing that Majima had fought too hard and sacrificed too much to get back into the Tojo Clan to allow himself to be removed. If he had to suffer Shimano's disgusting touch to remain a yakuza and have a shot of making things right with his kyoudai, then so be it.
The problem was that as time wore on, a sick part of him started to enjoy being Shimano’s personal whore. Discounting his time in the hole, for all his brutish and self serving ways, his boss always made sure to make him cum, his reward for a job well done. Even on that first night, another memory remained embedded: as he lay on the floor, drunk and crying, his hole sore and dripping with mixture of blood and semen, Shimano had taken him in hand and pumped his erection until he orgasmed, Majima moaning pathetically as he did. It was the same after every time he fucked him and now he was less the Mad Dog and more Pavlov’s dog, associating his boss’ rough treatment with the pleasure of getting to cum afterwards.
In the darker moments of guilt and shame at his inexplicable feelings towards his boss, he had considered straight up trying to murder Shimano. A tanto in his patriarch’s back when he least expected it was a tempting proposition but again unrealistic. If he succeeded, he’d be expelled for murdering his patriarch and if he failed, he’d be back in the hole. It was easier, he told himself, to hide under his cabaret persona and meet his customer’s needs.
‘Come on, stop slacking Majima…’ Shimano complained, interrupting the brief and pleasant image of him repeatedly stabbing his boss. A hand on his head forced him to take more of the incredibly large cock further down his throat, blocking off his airway.
‘Mmmph!’ Majima tried desperately to signal to Shimano that he was unable to breathe but as usual his boss paid little attention to him and only picked up the pace, using his hair as leverage. The lack of air allowed darkness to creep into the sides of his vision and his eyes began to roll back into his skull. His oxygen starved brain started to consider that it might not be entirely unpleasant to let himself slip away into the void.
But before he could pass out, a wet popping sound and the feeling of Shimano’s pre cum being smeared across his face let him know that the coroner would not be writing ‘death by dick suffocation’ on his autopsy report. He coughed and sputtered as air rushed to fill his lungs.
Shimano, unbothered by Majima’s apparent choking, sat back and lazily stroked his still erect cock. ‘Get your clothes off and prep yourself. There’s lube at the back of the drinks cabinet.’
‘Yes..boss.’ He panted out heavily as he slowly got up, making sure he wouldn’t collapse as the blood returned to his extremities. He then began to shrug off his clothes: his suit jacket, shirt and trousers were quickly dumped on the floor away from the carnage of the broken table.
He moved to the cabinet to retrieve the lube as instructed and as he bent down to open the doors, he briefly wondered if any of the men knew the lube was there, even with it being tucked away out of sight at the back. He was sure if they did, they wouldn’t be stupid enough to question Shimano as to why it was there though. He placed the lube on the top of the counter before removing his final article of clothing: a pair of plain black boxers. He looked up briefly to see what his boss was doing and noted that he was simply observing him with a smirk on his face.
‘Your irezumi was worth every penny.’ He grinned smugly. ‘Give me a show, Majima.’
Majima felt his cheeks burn from humiliation and he was grateful that right now at least, he was facing away from Shimano as he picked up the bottle of lube. He covered his fingers in the clear substance, spread his legs and bent forward slightly. As he pushed the first finger inside himself he let out a little gasp as he began to work his hole open. He added a second and continued to scissor himself more quickly now, knowing that his boss had little patience for preparation. From behind him he thought he heard the sound of slapping flesh, Shimano clearly enjoying his performance before deciding he’d had enough of the first act.
'Hmmph. On all fours dog.' He grunted.
As Majima shifted position, he heard the rustle of clothes from behind him, indicating that his boss was now removing his own attire. He kept his eyes forward however with his hands stretched out in front of him, allowing Shimano to examine him like he was a pedigree pet in a competition. With little regard for Majima’s autonomy, his patriarch started groping around his body, grasping his nipples and lightly ghosting over his now erect cock while Majima closed his eyes, trying not to react. However, without warning his boss spread his cheeks apart and inserted one of his large fingers inside his hole as if to check the adequacy of his prep work. Majima couldn’t contain himself any longer and gasped loudly at the sudden intrusion.
Shimano chuckled at his reaction. 'Really are just like a dog underneath it all ain’t you Majima? Just need someone to tell you what to do and who to fuck.' He casually removed his finger from his backside, and sat behind him, satisfied that he was ready. 'Now get over here and ride me like the whore you are.'
Majima opened his eye and shot a look of contempt over his shoulder at his now naked boss, for a second considering that maybe he did have some fight left in him. ‘Ya could ask me more nicely?’ The Mad Dog surfacing briefly to bare his teeth.
Shimano simply smiled back at him, his lip curling upwards. ‘Don’t spoil the mood now, Majima...Rather not have to get rough with you.’ He said grabbing one of Majima’s ankles and gripping it tightly enough to cause him to wince. The message delivered, he let go and reached between his legs to touch the head of his cock. Majima closed his eye again and tried to hide within himself as Shimano traced the wetness bubbling forth back between his legs and up to his hole. ‘Besides, judging by the mess on the floor, you don’t care much about how I ask anyway.’
He was right of course. Majima couldn’t deny that his dick was aching now and he wanted nothing more than to be filled. He turned on his heels and tried to move towards Shimano in a casual manner, rather than scrambling over the floor like a man looking at an oasis in a desert, attempting to retain some dignity at least. He slipped himself into Shimano’s lap and placed one hand on his broad shoulders to balance himself. He didn’t need to look up at Shimano to know he was grinning ear to ear, he always refused to look him in the eye whenever they had sex anyway keeping his eye cast downward. Thankfully the lack of eye contact seemed to suit Shimano as he had never shown any desire to meet his gaze or to even kiss him. Maybe he considered such activities too romantic, the sort of thing you did with a lover rather than a slut like him.
Instead Majima focused on his chest instead, the red petals and swirling patterns of his irezumi serving as a distraction although even that was a painful reminder of Shimano’s power over him. Majima may have chosen the hannya and the snakes, but Shimano had insisted on his own red flowers to accompany it so that their tattoos matched in a fashion, almost as a sign of ownership.
He took hold of Shimano's enormously thick dick and guided it into himself. Even with prep he could feel a slight burn as the muscle stretched to accommodate his girth but as he bottomed out Majima let out a satisfied groan from being filled up so completely. It was hard to ignore his boss’ suggestion that he was just a whore ready to take cock whenever he desired it. Shimano reaffirmed the thought as he placed his hands on his hips and helped him set a steady pace, moving up and down on his boss’ cock.
'You were made for this Majima….' He drawled at him.
As Majima started to move quicker and quicker, he could feel himself losing the pitifully few remaining shreds of self worth he had to the immeasurable pleasure that Shimano’s cock in his ass provided. A fever pitch within him grew and he couldn't help but start to slam himself down on it. His desire making him desperate to impale himself as hard as possible as he let out little moans of ecstasy as he went.
‘... Enjoying yourself?’ His boss asked, the question dripping with sarcasm.
‘...yess boss.’ Majima stuttered out, in between his moans, not remotely convinced he was meant to answer.
Between his mouth and the rhythmic thump of their bodies slapping against one another, Majima became painfully aware of the level of noise they were making. He only hoped that the rest of the building was empty this late at night. What would the men think of him if they saw him like this? The thought briefly mortified him before Shimano’s abundant member plunged into him again, replacing the thought with the overwhelming need to cum.
‘God if you were a woman…’ Shimano hissed out. ‘….fuck you till you were pregnant...’
As if to prove the point, he suddenly grabbed Majima’s hips and lay him out on the floor as if he was nothing but a ragdoll in his hands. He then pushed Majima’s legs backwards so that they were almost double over him before bearing down on him and resuming his incessant pounding. In response, Majima let himself throw a hand over his face, not wanting to see the sight of his boss' face or to let Shimano see how much he was enjoying himself as he continued to split him open. His cock going so deep that Majima’s hazy lust filled brain started to get confused and believe that he might actually get pregnant.
'... Fuck!' Shimano gasped out above him, Majima feeling some strange sort of pride at the fact that he could hear him struggle to get his own words out. Considering how many times they’d done this, he could scarcely believe that he still enjoyed fucking him this much.
In reality, he was no better and with Shimano now fucking his prostate into oblivion, it didn’t take long for that familiar pleasant buzz in his body to overtake him. Majima came hard, his cum splattering over himself while Shimano practically roared above him as he thrust into his poor abused ass one last time. His boss’ own orgasm spilling into him only a few moments later.
Shimano then threw his legs to the side as if he were nothing, a broken toy to be discarded now that he’d finished with him. He rolled onto his back next to him on the tatami, breathing heavily with a sheen of sweat across his forehead. Majima looked away from him, trying not to let his overwhelming feelings of self loathing get the better of him.
Both lay there panting for several minutes before Majima silently started to rise and pull his clothes back on. He never liked to dwell on what they had done for too long as it would only prompt himself to keep looking into that deep well of despair that lay within him, which was a place that he’d rather deal with at the end of a bottle or with his bat against someone’s face. He fished out a packet of pocket tissues from his trousers and started to clean himself up as best he could.
Shimano simply watched him as he pulled on his boxers and slipped his undershirt over his shoulders. He began laughing to himself as he continued to rest on the floor. It was a slightly off kilter chuckle that prompted Majima to turn his good eye towards his boss to figure out what was so funny.
‘Best damn whore I ever had..’ He laughed, as he started to reach for his box of cigars that against the odds had survived his earlier rampage. ‘What would I do without my Mad Dog?’
Majima bit his tongue at first, the Mad Dog wanting to respond with some crude joke but Shimano’s backhanded compliment planted a small idea in his head. Maybe he wasn’t as worthless as he’d spent all this time convincing himself he was. After all, Shimano himself had put months, if not years of effort and resources into him. He could have easily killed him after the Ueno Seiwa clan incident. He could have tortured him to death in the hole. He could have ordered Sagawa to murder him for insubordination when he briefly left Sotenbori. He could have shot him when he delivered the Chairman’s message about there being a traitor in the Tojo Clan. And yet every single time Shimano had chosen to let Majima live.
The last incident had been the most dramatic. Shimano with a gun in his hand pointed at Majima, the action appearing sincere enough that he told his boss to tell Saejima he was sorry. But Shimano had surprised him once again and swiftly turned his weapon on his Omi co-conspirator.
He decided he had nothing to lose by testing the theory of how much he truly was worth to him and if there was ever a time where his boss was at his weakest then surely it would be in a moment of post-coital bliss.
Half dressed in only his underwear, his shirt not yet buttoned up, Majima scrambled around to retrieve his lighter and lit the cigar in his boss’ mouth. He then lay back down to the side of his patriarch, before placing a hand on Shimano’s chest, the pair appearing to be in some sort of tender embrace.
At first, Shimano seemed unbothered by the action and simply took a drag of his cigar but he soon tilted his head at Majima and his hand, arching one of his thick eyebrows back at him. ‘Going sweet on me or something Majima?’
It was now or never. Now he’d find out exactly how much his boss liked fucking him. ‘Boss...I want to start my own family.’ He said, tracing patterns with his finger on one of Shimano’s flowery pecs.
‘You think your ass is worth your own family?’ Shimano eyed him curiously but not immediately angry.
Majima then laid it on thick, the Mad Dog who was usually cowed in the deep recesses of his mind when he was with Shimano, gave him the confidence to sling his leg over his boss’ waist and pull himself up on top of his body in a riding position. His boss continued to look up at him skeptically but that didn’t stop Majima from letting the hand on his chest drift up to his head, which he then dared to grab his chin defiantly, his one eye firmly holding his gaze with Shimano.
‘Don’t you?’ He asked with a half lidded eye.
‘Tch.’ Shimano made a dismissive noise and batted away Majima’s hand, breaking the eye contact between them as he turned his head away. Majima almost laughed at his sudden shyness, the man who had continuously assaulted him, blushing like a schoolgirl but a realisation hit him like a freight train:
His ass was worth a family to Shimano.
After a moment, his boss regained his composure and turned back to him with his regular curled lip of disdain. ‘You willing to pay me double the other families and let me fuck you?’
Majima had expected something along those lines as a condition but nodded along as if it was nothing. ‘Course boss.’ He leaned over and whispered into Shimano’s ear. ‘Anything ya want.’ He then took the opportunity to nibble on the appendage, which caused a low rumble from his boss.
Holy shit, how had it taken Majima this long to realise that his boss was obsessed with him and if he pretended he wanted it as much as he did, then the Mad Dog could wrap him around his little finger.
‘...I do this and I own your ass forever Majima.’ Shimano smiled sadistically at him as he continued to believe that he held all the cards. ‘I won’t ever let you forget who holds your leash.’
‘Wouldn’t expect ya to.’ Majima smiled back, before playfully biting Shimano’s lip as if to seal the deal between them. It wasn’t quite a kiss, that was one threshold he would never cross but he moved his mouth down his neck and made tiny bites along it to entice him further.
Shimano let out a little low hum of satisfaction before slapping Majima’s ass harshly to let him know to desist, clearly not entirely comfortable with him showing that much initiative. ‘Fine...I’ll let Sera know. Let’s see what the Mad Dog can do with his own family.’ He said as he possessively groped and rubbed the buttock that he’d just slapped.
Majima smiled excitedly. 'Ya won’t regret it, I promise ya.' He immediately began to pull away from his boss but apparently his giddy reaction displeased Shimano, who quickly caught his wrist as he moved away.
‘I mean it Majima.’ Shimano growled it at him, clinging to him as if was dangling over a cliff and Majima was the rope. ‘You are mine.’ The last word was practically venomous and the more familiar fiery hell that was his boss’ leer returned, prompting Majima to briefly wonder if his plan would just end up with him being burnt.
‘I know...’ He replied, his voice an octave lower than it normally would to indicate his seriousness, and fully accepting of the fact that if he got this wrong, he would end up dead. ‘Until death do us part and all that shit.’
Shimano seemed satisfied with his response and let go of his wrist to allow him to finish dressing. 'Good. Now be a good dog and get back out there. You still need to make up for the money you cost me tonight.'
Majima let the small light of hope build within him but managed to keep his excitement in check as he put the rest of clothes back on, not wanting to tempt fate that Shimano might change his mind as quickly as he had decided to give him own family in the first place. But now his boss seemed oddly sedate, the most he did was sit up and pull on a spare robe that he kept in the office while continuing to smoke his cigar but remained silent until Majima finally opened the door to leave.
'Guess I did say if ya love yer kid, send him out to see the world.'
Majima tensed for a second at the phrase that sent him back to 1988 briefly but he didn't stop moving and headed out into the cold winter's night air.
As he stood on the porch of the Shimano Office, looking at the stars above, then and only then, did he finally allow himself a small smile of triumph. He fully intended to prove to Shimano he was worthy of the title of patriarch, make a family worthy of his kyoudai should ever be reunited and finally fulfil the promise of ‘death do us part’.