Archive of Our Own

Saturday afternoon, 4pm

Kiryu paused outside of Daigo's bedroom and took a deep breath, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.

There was still the faint but noticeable smell of cleaning chemicals from last night. Under his socks the hardwood floor was smooth, shiny, clear of blood. Over on the bed, the sheets and blankets remained rumpled from this morning, Daigo's pajamas in a pile on top of them. Nothing had changed. He didn't know why he'd expected it to.

He went inside. The late afternoon light in here was hesitant and still. Now the faint odor of stale sweat, shower gel, and something medicinal replaced the chemicals. For some reason, the scent made his chest ache.

Daigo's medical file still lay atop his dresser. He took it and flipped through it again, skimming over the text, as if some solution to all their problems might jump out at him. There was nothing. If anything, re-reading the description of Daigo's injuries made him feel worse. Kiryu clapped the file shut with a hiss.

He left Daigo's room, with its invalid's smell, and went to his own bedroom where he put the file inside his dresser. The droor was slammed shut harder than he'd meant to.

With that done, he slowly made his way to the kitchen. A leaden heaviness had settled in his muscles, and his thoughts were feather-light, scattered. Little sleep and the emotional toil of the last twenty-four hours were beginning to make themselves felt.

Kiryu made himself lunch mechanically, a rice and veggie bowl, then settled at the kitchen table with a weary sigh. At least the food was good. Obviously Daigo could afford fresh ingredients. Despite this, he missed eating out in Kamurocho. He had an urge to go and visit the city soon, he was getting a little cabin fever after being shuttled between the house and HQ for a few days.

Maybe I could drink with Date at New Serena at some point. Kiryu chewed thoughtfully. Daigo would be ok here without me for a few hours…

Distracted by these thoughts, he finished eating, then wandered into the TV room. He started a little when he saw Yayoi reading on the sofa, but recovered quickly. "Oh, Yayoi-san…I forgot you were…never mind."

"It's alright," she reassured him, as he turned to leave. "What is it?"

"…Nothing. I was with Daigo in his office earlier. He…was going to call the families of those security guards. He's…upset. Very upset. But he's doing what needs to be done, I suppose."

"I didn't realise their deaths would affect him so much." Yayoi slowly closed her book, a frown on her face. "He didn't even know them that well. But…he always felt things deeply, especially as a child. Yet he always tried to hide it. He still does." Her voice went quiet. "Even when he cries in front of me, he tries to hold it back as much as possible…"

She shook her head as Kiryu stiffened. "…But never mind that for now. Are Majima and Saejima still here?"

"No. They left, along with that extra bodyguard, Kozaki-san. Date-san is gone too."

"I never knew you had befriended a policeman." Yayoi raised an eyebrow.

"Date-san isn't what you think." Kiryu smiled at her suspicion. "If he wanted to turn me in, he could've done so years ago. He's met Daigo before too, around the time Goda Ryuji and Shindo Koji were causing trouble."

"That long ago?" Yayoi shook her head. "Well, I'm not surprised. Trying to get my son to tell me things is like squeezing blood from a stone."

"Next time Date-san comes around…and he probably will…you can meet him. Put your mind at ease." Kiryu cleared his throat. "He had some bad news as well."

He told her about the neighbors and the press. Yayoi's frown deepened. "…I don't like the sound of that. It makes me think if having eight bodyguards is even enough…"

"Daigo has me as well," Kiryu said firmly. "I'm not going anywhere…even if he wants me to."

"He won't send you away, Kiryu. I got him to back down on that." Yayoi smiled as she saw him wilt in relief. "Sit down next to me…but first, get your laptop. I want you to show me that protection plan for Daigo…and I'll show you how to forward an email."

Kiryu came back a minute later and sat down next to her. Yayoi leaned closer to him as he opened up the computer. Maybe it was her imagination, but he seemed to radiate heat, like a sun-warmed rock. It was hard not to press close. She caught a whiff of his cologne as he shifted a little.

"Ok…here it is. Tonomori-san sent it to me this morning, I haven't approved it yet, but I don't think any changes can be made…it's pretty late for that. It looks thorough. And Daigo should look at this too, honestly. That's what Tonomori-san said in the email. So none of it will catch him off-guard."

"That's a good idea. May I?" She took the laptop from him and settled it on her lap. Her eyes went over the open document, reading slowly and carefully. There was a map of HQ and various diagrams, along with accompanying text. Everything was written plainly and clearly, any jargon well-explained and kept to a minimum—even the tone of the report was calm and assured. She relaxed a little. A weight seemed to lift from her shoulders.

"Well…I know no plan is fool-proof, but Daigo seems to be well-protected." She eyed the signature at the document's end. "I know nothing about this Tonomori-san though. Do you trust him?"

"I guess I do." Kiryu thought for a minute. "…Well, I trust him as much as I can for someone I only met two days ago." His mouth twitched. "Even if he did point a gun at my head…"

"Pointing a gun at the Dragon of Dojima takes some steel, at the very least," Yayoi remarked. "Fine. Do you trust him with Daigo's safety?"

"Yes. I do."

"Very well. Then I'll do the same." Yayoi tapped at the laptop. "Are you paying attention? Here's how to forward this to me…"

After she showed him, she read the document over again, fretting. As a mother, that was her job. She swept some stray hair away from her face.

"So six Majima bodyguards will be with him on the day, and you as well…"

"And his original team, plus other Tojo security staff and Tonomori-san. Nothing will happen to him." Kiryu was firm. "You have my word."

"Good to hear," came a new voice.

Kiryu jerked his head around. Daigo stood in the doorway, looking pale and tired. He shook his head as Kiryu made to move. "No. Don't get up. Don't bother. I'm too drained to be mad at you right now."

He eased himself down on Kiryu's other side with a wince. "…I need to replace my office chair. I didn't realise that one was so old and uncomfortable."

"Er. How did it go?" Kiryu could feel himself tense. He hadn't expected Daigo to be this close to him so soon, after his outburst earlier. He let the younger man's warmth press against his shoulder, resisting the urge to lean into him. Daigo was also trembling very slightly. Kiryu decided not to put an arm around him, despite the instinct. That would probably be too much.

"It went…" Daigo trailed off, started again. "…They…weren't mad. I spoke to Hirota-san's father and Inoka-san's wife. They were…very polite. Courteous, if wary. I could hear the grief though. In their voices." He stopped, swallowed, fisted one hand.

"…I didn't want to draw out the conversations, but I could tell they were…were afraid of me. Once they knew who I was…they'd probably seen the tabloids." His voice was dull. "They agreed to let me pay the funeral expenses. They probably would've let me dance naked on their graves if I'd asked. I…had a feeling they were too frightened to say no. Ha!" Daigo gave a bitter laugh. "As if I would ever…"

"It was a good thing that you did," Yayoi reminded him. "Remember that. Those poor grieving people now don't have to worry about the cost of a funeral. You did a good thing."

"I know. I know." Daigo laid his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I've done all I can. Better just to leave the grieving families be. I thought of sending flowers too…but that'd probably be considered a tainted gift." His voice was flat.

"You've done all you can," Yayoi agreed gently. "I know these deaths came as a sudden, unwelcome shock to you, Daigo. The best thing now is to…move on. Try not to dwell on it any further."

"Yeah. You're—you're right."

Kiryu nodded. "You should just rest up for monday."

"Monday." Daigo sighed. "I'm not looking forward to it…but what must be done must be done."

"We were just going over your protection plan." Kiryu tapped the laptop. "Tonomori-san says you should look over it, so you know what to expect."

"I know. He told me the same when he called me back earlier." Daigo gave a small huff of laughter. "…He was too professional to complain about Majima's men to my face, so to speak, but I could hear his frustration. In all fairness, this was very last minute for him, to have to train inexperienced men up so quickly." He paused. "Ok. Maybe…I am a little nervous, after all."

He gave a short laugh. "…I'm sure everything will be fine on monday. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Kiryu, pass me the laptop."

The other handed it over, placing it carefully on Daigo's lap. Daigo read through the document, his eyes flickering through the pages. He tapped at the touchpad, talking to himself as he read.

"…Mm-hm. All right. Nothing…too complicated. Good. Getting up to the roof will be a pain though, if we need to do that. There's no elevator up to there, as far as I know. Tonomori-san said he had a helicopter and a pilot on standby, already. Where does he find a spare pilot hanging around on such short notice, and one willing to ferry yakuza around, at that…anyway. Fine. You can email him back, Kiryu, tell him we both signed off on this."

He relaxed a little, then frowned. "Wait. If six of the Majima bodyguards will be with me…then who's watching the house? Kurokawa-san and Otake-san will be sleeping…"

"I'll be here," Yayoi said firmly. "I want to see you off, and be there for you when you get back."

Daigo eyed her. "Not that I don't doubt your katana skills, mother, but if a horde of Omi decide to randomly show up and destroy the house, or some reporters jump the walls…I'd rather have some more men around you."

"You should talk to Majima about it. He's probably worked something out," Kiryu suggested. "I know…you're still upset at us. But—"

"No. I know. You're right." Daigo rubbed his eyes. "I'll call him. I'm guessing he'll have Kozaki-san guard the house while we're gone."

The notion was a little troubling. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of Bensuke guarding his mother alone. The chance of the Omi returning during the day was extremely unlikely, but for his peace of mind he'd feel more comfortable if there were more bodyguards around her. Majima, no doubt, had men to spare.

"…Perhaps I should come with you on monday," Yayoi said finally. "I could—"

"No," both Daigo and Kiryu spoke at the same time. Daigo continued quickly. "You'd just be in danger too. Besides, mother, remember you're a civilian now. Don't get yourself involved with this mess. If you show up to HQ, that would look like…"

"Of course. You're right." Yayoi sighed.

"And Tonomori-san might have a fit if he found out he had another Dojima to look out for, at the last minute," Kiryu commented. Daigo stifled laughter.

"Heh. Well. I do feel a little better about things now."

He shifted his head against the pillow he'd tucked behind him. Breathing was growing painful again, and he tried to take shallow breaths. The problem, he thought grumpily, was that he was supposed to be doing the opposite: taking deep breaths, as much as possible, and coughing. To avoid pneumonia, supposedly. But doing that was painful at worst and uncomfortable at best.

He remembered what his mother had said about hiding his pain to her. He had no desire to upset her again. Daigo cleared his throat.

"Um. I don't remember exactly when I last had my meds, but, uh. I kind of need them again. At least one pill. Sorry."

"I'll get them. I'm glad you said something this time." Yayoi stood up before Kiryu could open his mouth. "I'll be right back."

The shoji door closed behind her, leaving both men alone. An awkward silence fell. Daigo could feel Kiryu's warmth against his left arm and the sun's mellow light on his right. A cool breeze blew in from the open doors, carding fingers through his hair. A fleeting moment of calmness and peace passed through him, before it faded and reality set in again.

"…Daigo."

He turned his head to look at Kiryu. The other looked faintly distressed, like he was wrestling with something. Kiryu finally cleared his throat.

"…I wasn't sure…whether to tell you this. Or if your mother had told you already. But I don't want to keep things from you anymore. Something happened…just before Date-san arrived. When your bodyguards came back from training."

"Ok. What?" Kiryu's unease was making him the feel the same.

"Majima…" Kiryu trailed off, started again. "Well. Let me back up a bit. Apparently, Daigo, Majima's men sort of…made an impression at HQ. They—well, Kurokawa-san mainly—got into a fight with your original bodyguards…"

"…Kurokawa-san? Fighting with Shield-6, my old team?" Daigo frowned. "That doesn't sound like him."

"I don't know the details. But after the Omi attempt last night, and working so many shifts, he probably wasn't thinking straight. Not that I'm offering excuses for him. Anyway. Tonomori-san told Majima about it. And Majima…got very angry."

"Tonomori-san didn't mention this to me on the phone," Daigo said slowly.

"Well, they are Majima's men. Majima's directly responsible for them."

"You're right. Go on."

Yayoi came in at that moment, holding the little bag of meds. Daigo accepted a pill from her and washed it down with some water. Kiryu glanced at Yayoi, but kept speaking.

"…Well. Majima, he…he beat Kurokawa-san in front of the rest of them. As an example, I guess. It worked." Kiryu sounded flat. "They seemed cowed to me…"

Daigo clenched his fists. "…I thought I heard someone shouting when I was dozing in front of the TV. I wasn't sure if it was from outside or just a half-dream."

"That was probably Nakai-san and Otake-san," Kiryu said, grave. "They were yelling at each other."

"For god's sake, Majima..." Daigo shut his eyes. "…Is he badly hurt? Kurokawa-san?"

"I don't know. Majima was savage but brief. I think. I didn't see all of it. Saejima and I came up when he just about done. I should've stopped him, but…" Kiryu shook his head. "…I hesitated. I've no right to interfere with his Family's affairs. Still. Looking back on it…I should've done something."

Yayoi spoke up. "I was the one who stopped Majima-san, before he could deliver the final blow. I'm sorry, Daigo. I would've told you, but I knew you were preoccupied with the deaths of your security guards…" She paused.

"Kurokawa-san was able to stand up and walk. I think he just has bruising, but I'm not sure. That's why I asked about those gels. I'll try and give them to him later."

"At least I know now. Thanks for telling me." Daigo stared down at his glass. He was angry, but it felt muted and useless. Just another mess on top of the pile of shit that had been today so far. Even so, the news of Yashiro being injured had brought a strange tightness to his chest. He wasn't sure what that was. Concern, maybe…and fear.

"…What was Majima fucking thinking?" He clenched his fingers around the glass. "I don't know much about my new bodyguards, but I got the impression that Kurokawa-san was the best of them. He killed two Omi outside my door. So Majima goes and injures him? How does that help me in any way?"

He let his breath out. "…I should just call Majima now, actually. Tell him I want to speak to him and Saejima tomorrow. I need to do it before I fall asleep again…"

Grumbling, he fished his phone out from his sweatpants. Kiryu kept a wary eye on him. He hoped Daigo wouldn't start shouting again, he was feeling somewhat emotionally frayed from this afternoon.

"…Majima." Daigo closed his eyes briefly. "At least you pick up quickly. Look. Listen to me. I need you and Saejima to come over tomorrow. We need to talk about…some things. And—what?" He frowned.

"All of them? …Except for Kurokawa-san and Otake-san. Ok. Fine. You'll be around in the morning, then. Uh-huh…" He fiddled with the end of his t-shirt. "I know…I know you are. We can talk about this tomorrow. Yeah. Ok. See you."

Daigo hung up, then looked around at Kiryu's expectant face. "…Majima's just told me he's having all my bodyguards go to training tomorrow, except for Kurokawa-san and Otake-san. Nakai-san and Oshiro-san were supposed to be guarding me then, but Majima says it's too important they be at HQ…and I have to agree. So they'll be with me in the morning until they leave around nine-thirty…"

"And that's when Majima and Saejima will be coming over," Kiryu finished for him. "To keep an eye out in your bodyguards' place, until they come back."

"Yeah." Daigo sighed and laid his head back again, staring at the ceiling. Exhaustion was slowly drowning him, creeping up his body like rising floodwaters. Suddenly it was too much effort to even keep his eyes open. He stifled a yawn with one hand.

"…I'm just going to rest. Can't stay awake any longer. But someone wake me up in an hour. I don't want to sleep the whole afternoon away."

"Sure," Kiryu agreed. Yayoi nodded.

Daigo shut his eyes, and was asleep more or less immediately. Kiryu felt his muscles unclench, letting out a slow breath. He got up carefully, making sure not to disturb the younger man, and was about to leave when Yayoi touched his arm.

"Kiryu." Her voice was quiet. "Why don't you have a nap as well? I can see you're exhausted after last night."

"What?" Kiryu twitched. He thought he'd been hiding it pretty well. "No, I'm fine—"

"Don't argue with me, please." Fine steel had crept into her tone. "Daigo and I will be alright. He's asleep, and the rest of Majima's men are around. Go rest. I'm going to do some housework, then prepare something for dinner."

"I can d—"

"You're still arguing with me." She casually set a hand on her katana. Kiryu took a step back. Her dark eyes seemed to pierce him harder than any blade. A vague lightheadedness came over him, making him blink. Yayoi was right. Napping for a little while wouldn't hurt.

"Ok," he said slowly. "But wake me up if you need me for anything."

"Of course."

Kiryu headed to his room. The sun coming in from the windows made his bed look soft and golden. He closed the curtains, then flopped back down onto the duvet with a tired sigh. Even with his eyes closed and sleepiness heavy upon him, his mind remained restless. He thought of Daigo crying and shaking, kneeling in the grass. Daigo crying at his desk. His shoulders had felt thin under Kiryu's hands.

He pressed his fingers to his eyes. Daigo, he thought. Daigo…

Sleep overcame him. In his dreams, they were back in the park, and Daigo was young again, laughing, running through the leaf piles, sending leaves high into the autumn sky. Then the trees and park fell away, but Daigo was still running, running down a dark tunnel, away from Kiryu. No matter how long his strides the Dragon couldn't keep up. He could only watch, helpless, reaching out, as the boy he called his son disappeared into darkness.

—

Keizo's feet pounded along the stone path along the edge of the grounds, the sun's heat beginning to give way to cool shadows. A glance at his watch told him it was a little after five. He was doing laps, eating seemed to have given him a second wind and suddenly he'd been filled with restless energy. And it was important to keep fit and up his stamina, he decided. Guarding the sixth chairman meant long, boring hours of being on his feet.

A pain from his side made him wince and slow a little further: the bruise the Omi had given him. But it's nothin', he berated himself. It'll be fine in another day. Keep goin'.

To keep his mind off it, he ran over what they'd learned at HQ as he moved along the path, past the house, up the gardens. Their first day of close protection training had been overwhelming and fast-paced, but he could keep up. It was exciting, fresh, intense, and just the sort of change of pace he'd been looking for. He tried to remember the procedure for letting Daigo out of the limo. Eyes always to surroundings, hold one arm out to guide the Principal forward and provide cover, fall in formation—

He nearly smacked into Asahi coming the other way. They stumbled around each other, Keizo staggering against the wall.

"Hey!" he complained. "What the hell?"

"Sorry," his junior muttered. Asahi had also been running, from the look of it, wearing only his track bottoms and trainers. His red spikes stuck out all over the place. He stared down at the ground, avoiding Keizo's eyes.

"Seems like we both had the same idea." Keizo pushed blue hair off his sweaty forehead. "Gah. Fuck it, I need a breather anyway."

There was a stone bench by the wall. Keizo sat, wiping his face with one arm and breathing deeply. The air was cooler under the tree canopy, but also thick and close. He watched clouds of tiny gnats glow golden in the shafts of sunlight coming down. The cicadas had dulled their buzzing to a soft drone.

Asahi was silent. He looked at Keizo, looked away again. His lips were pressed in a thin line, arms folded. He seemed hesitant on whether to start running again. Keizo turned his head toward him.

"What's with ya? You've been quiet ever since…we got back. You barely spoke when we were practicin' formations. Is it Ben? I mean, I'm not happy he's hangin' around here now either. Forgot that asshole was on the shortlist."

"…No." Asahi pursed his lips. "It's you."

"Me??" Keizo blinked at him. "What'd I do?"

"What'd ya mean, what did you do?" His partner took a step forward. "You were startin' shit at HQ. You were goadin' Shield-6, pissin' them all off. Then ya don't even own up to it when—"

"Hey, that Seki guy came over to me first!" Keizo shot to his feet. "Remember?"

"Then ya don't even own it up to it when Majima-san starts blamin' it all on Yashiro-san!" Asahi's voice was rising, shrill. "It's true he shouldn't have started fightin' with Aizawa-san, but you were stirrin' shit too, aniki!"

"Well—"

"You could never keep your fuckin' mouth shut, or your fists to yourself!" Asahi's own hands were clenching, his breath coming fast. "You're just escapin' accountability!"

"What was I supposed to do?!" Keizo shouted back. "Just let Seki fuckin' walk all over me? Ya think I'm just gonna roll over and take that shit??"

Asahi punched him.

Keizo's head snapped back. The blow made him stumble backwards, tripping over a small shrub bordering the path. He fell into the gardens, briefly tasting grass and dirt in his mouth. Asahi leapt through the trees after him, and Keizo sprang to his feet.

"What the hell's wrong with ya?" he shouted. "Hey!"

This time he took a kick to the stomach. Now his blood was boiling. If Asahi was mad at him and wanted to fight, then he would oblige. Keizo dodged the next blow and tackled his partner around the waist. They crashed to ground, grappling. The other grabbed him in a headlock.

"I hate fuckin' sayin' it, but Bensuke was right!" Asahi snarled in his ear. "You were standing there watchin' and smirkin' like a bratty kid while Yashiro-san was beaten. All 'cause you're still a holdin' a grudge from when he gave you a lump on the head!"

"Shut up!" Keizo struggled, but Asahi actually had more muscle than him, and the gains were showing. He yanked on the man's forearm, grunting.

"You've been bitter towards him ever since!" Asahi insisted. "You're bein' childish—don't even deny it!"

"Asahi, you—!"

"Zenshiro-san actually knocked me out cold," Asahi interjected, "but you don't see me tryin' to get back at him, do ya?? 'Cause it was my fault. I accept that. I tried to learn from my mistakes. I think you did too—but you still can't get over your hatred towards Yashiro-san!"

"The HELL do you know about it??" Keizo snarled. He slammed an elbow into Asahi's stomach and the grip on him fell away. With effort he staggered upright, panting, holding onto his side. The bruise the Omi had given him felt deep, and all the exertion made the muscle underneath ache and burn.

"Why the hell're you defendin' him anyway??" he shouted at Asahi. "Like the oh-so-high-an'-mighty Black Wolf-sama needs your support! We're all just fuckin' little bugs to him, to both of them! I meant what I said! He deserved bein' thrown into that table, and he deserved that beatin' too! Someone oughta remind that mangy wolf he ain't the top of the food chain—"

"Just stop!" Tears were in Asahi's eyes. "I thought you were fuckin' better than this!"

"What're you—"

This time Asahi took his legs out from under him, and he crashed back down to the ground. Keizo rolled away. He bounced back up in a sharp upward kick, his heel slamming into Asahi's solar plexus. The man fell with a wheezing rasp to the ground. Keizo dropped to his knees and yanked Asahi's head up by his red hair. He drew his fist back then let it fly: once, twice, thrice. The third time he felt Asahi's lip split. Bile burnt his throat. What was happening here?

As he wavered, Asahi grabbed the wrist holding him and squeezed.

"Ya know wha-what?!" he gasped. Blood coated his chin. "You're bringin' the ruh-rest of us down with ya! We can't work wuh-well as a team if you keep buh-bein'—insubordinate an' uncooperative tuh-towards our fuckin' team leader—not wuh-workin' together with us, to work with him. Aniki: let it guh-go. All this stupid hatred an' juh-jealousy! What—are ya doin'??"

Keizo dropped his fist as Asahi's voice cracked, coming out as a thin whine.

"…If we cuh-can't work well as a team, aniki…if we fuh-fracture over petty li'l things…the sixth chairman is guh-gonna be the one who suffers for it. Ya know that, ruh-right? Hasn't he suffered enough? Suh-So what are ya doin'?? Aniki??"

They stared at each other.

"…Aren't you nuh-number one??" Asahi let his head drop, forcing Keizo to let go. "Majima-san put you above Azumasa, the champion of the Coliseum, above even the wolves! Or does that just mean nothin' to ya?? Maybe…muh-maybe Majima-san just listed everyone at random…maybe the shortlist rankin' never meant anythin'…at all…"

Before Keizo could speak, a voice interrupted them.

"What the hell's goin' on here??"

Eiji jogged over to them, looking anxious, gun drawn. He snapped his head between the two of them. "I heard you two shoutin' from down the garden. Hell, Shoji, Lady Dojima-san, and the sixth chairman heard you from in the fuckin' house! I ran over here thinkin' you two were bein' attacked! The hell's all—"

Then he focused on Asahi's face.

"What—hey! Are you two fightin'? Asahi, your lip…"

"It's nuh-nothin'." Asahi swiped at his wet, bloody face. "Nothin'. Forget it."

"You look like fell in front of a train!" Eiji whipped his head toward Keizo. "Did you do this??"

"I said forget it." Asahi spat blood onto the ground. He picked himself up, swaying, avoiding their eyes, swiping a few times at his messy hair. Then he set off unsteadily towards the house without looking back. Keizo stared after him.

"Everythin's clear," he heard Eiji say tightly into his mic. "It—it was Keizo and Asahi havin' a scrap. Tell the sixth chairman and his mother not to worry. Over." He let his hand drop, then went over to Keizo. "Hey, fuckface. You're damn lucky Majima-san left. If he'd found out you two were fightin' out here…"

"I know!" Keizo snapped. "Fuck off, Eiji. I've had enough lecturin' for one day."

He made to shove past the twin, but Eiji grabbed him by the arm and drew him close. Keizo smelt of grass and sweat, and the sudden headiness of it blindsided him. Eiji bit his tongue. Not now, not now…

"What the hell are you doin', Keizo? Fightin' with Asahi, makin' him cry? First HQ, now—"

"Back off!" Keizo grabbed his collar. He had an ugly look on his face. "Now you're doin' the same?? Except ya weren't even at HQ, Eiji, so shut the fuck up. Are you my fuckin' minder now? You've been actin' real strange around me lately, ya know that? Don't think I haven't noticed!"

"Don't turn this around on me!" Eiji felt his face heat up.

"Yeah, yeah," Keizo jeered, "you chirpin', flippant, charmin' twins can do no wrong. Chairman Dojima-san's two favorite clowns. Gotta say, it's real strange to see ya take the high road, considerin' the way ya two empty-headed chucklefucks were actin' at the hospital…and here too, come to think of it. Gettin' the chairman drunk, Majima-san callin' you two out…I heard about that." He shoved the twin away.

"Our work ethic aside, Keizo," Eiji said stiffly, feeling something grow cold inside him, "c'mon. Fightin' in the chairman's fuckin' gardens? Really? The fuckin' neighbors probably heard you—"

"Is that better or worse than fightin' at HQ and causin' a scene??" Keizo snarled at him. "You lookin' for a fat lip as well?"

"You need to settle down." Eiji felt his hands ball into fists. He kept his voice even. "You used to be the cool-headed one on duty. At the hospital you were the one tellin' us off. What happened?"

Keizo hesitated. It was true that the last couple days or so, he'd started feeling off. His sleep hadn't been great. And the damn restlessness persisted, even after afternoon's training. His throat felt dry too. He'd cheerfully kill Eiji for one bottle of liquor. None of that was the twin's business, though.

"Nothin'. Nothin'. I just need a fuckin' drink. Or maybe three. And you…you shouldn't be talkin' to me for so long. Get back to your patrol."

He shoved Eiji back and strode away towards the house. He had to get a grip on himself. Talk to Asahi at some point. Majima wanted both of them at HQ tomorrow to prepare for monday, he'd been informed in a text, and they couldn't be at odds with each other like this.

Muttered curses spilled from his lips.

Draggin' them all down with me…

—

It was evening now. The lawn and gardens were slowly being consumed by lengthening shadows. Daigo shifted in his garden chair. Being out here wasn't as comfortable as sitting inside, but he'd wanted the change of scenery and some fresh air. He felt as if his life had shrunk to going between his bedroom, the kitchen, and the living room lately. Mentally he was restless, despite the physical exhaustion. Cabin fever would soon be settling in.

Unfortunately, he didn't feel up into going into Kamurocho yet, and the thought of being accidentally jostled by the crowds made him wince. As soon as he felt a little better, he promised himself, he was going to take everyone out for a big meal at an expensive restaurant. That would be a nice excuse for binge drinking. If he couldn't smoke, then he would damn well drink.

Maybe the night before Kiryu has to go back. It was a good idea, if bittersweet. It would be a nice send-off and thank-you for the man, but the thought of Kiryu leaving him, again, kindled an old ache in his chest. Daigo passed a hand over his face. Stop being so pathetic.

He made himself think of other, more troubling issues. Tonight's dinner, for instance, had been a quieter affair. The twins were on duty, Yashiro and Zenshiro were still asleep...and Keizo and Asahi hadn't been speaking much. Everyone had been shocked to see the bruises on their faces, Asahi's split lip. Both bodyguards had waved off Daigo's questions with light-hearted dismissal—they'd just been sparring, and gotten too into it—but Daigo remembered hearing the shouting from the gardens, which had woken him up, and it had sounded angry. He wondered if it had anything to do with what happened at HQ, or Majima's reaction.

Daigo thought of asking the twin behind him about it, then decided not to. It wasn't his business, and it would be better not to get involved in any drama between his bodyguard team. Plus he would just be distracting the man. All he could do was hope it would resolve itself, in time…

A deep sigh rattled his chest, which sparked a coughing fit. By the time he caught his breath, bright spears of pain had lodged in his ribs, and his eyes were damp. Daigo swallowed the mucus he'd brought up, but the disgusting sensation nearly made him puke. He gagged and brought a hand to his mouth.

"Sir!" That was Eiji somewhere behind him, or maybe Shoji. He'd already forgotten. "Are you ok? Want me to get Chairman Kiryu-san?"

"Nuh-no." Daigo settled back, grimacing. "It's fine. I'm alright."

He tried to pick up his glass on the table, but his hand was shaking so badly he nearly dropped it. Water sloshed over his fingers. Daigo set it down with a crack and closed his eyes. All of a sudden, he just wanted to roll over and die. Or cry. He exhaled a slow, shaky breath.

Mine's face came into his mind, and he felt another stab of pain. He hadn't thought of Mine since he'd left hospital. He wished the man was here. Mine would comfort him, be there for him in a way that Kiryu and the others couldn't. He missed their closeness. Daigo smiled sadly. Mine would've been even more overbearing than Kiryu about taking care of me, though. He'd probably force-feed Daigo his meals. And he wouldn't stand for Daigo's self-pity.

He clenched his fingers around his water again, and managed to drink on the second try. Small victories. Be proud of me, Mine.

The temperature had dropped while he'd been sitting out here, a sudden cool breeze sweeping up the veranda. Goosebumps appeared on his arms. Clouds were gathering, and he glanced at the sky. Rain. Rain was in the forecast tonight. He didn't envy Yashiro and Zenshiro, having to patrol through the damp, drizzly darkness.

The veranda creaked behind him as someone came through the shoji doors. Daigo caught a whiff of water lilies, jasmine, then his mother's soft hand settled on his shoulder. "Daigo. I've dusted and put away some of your laundry I washed earlier today. And tomorrow I'll do a large shopping trip: there's a lot of people staying here, after all. We're running out of food."

"Thank you." Daigo closed his eyes as she smoothed his hair. "…I don't mean for you to do all the work. Sorry."

"Stop apologising. You're my son." Yayoi stroked his head, thoughtful. She cast a glance at the twin behind her, before turning back to Daigo.

"…About Nakai-kun and Oshiro-kun…"

"Leave them be." Daigo sighed. "I was thinking about this earlier. Whatever it is, it's not our business. Although you can try and nursemaid them, if you like."

"Very funny. Perhaps we should order some more gels." Yayoi pursed her lips. "At this rate you'll be out by the end of the week."

"They can have them. I hate the smell."

"Well that's too bad." Yayoi's tone was firm. She changed the subject, speaking to Eiji. "I've put some leftovers in the fridge for you two as well. There's plenty left."

"Thank you, ma'am." Eiji bowed.

"Of course." She turned back to Daigo. "You didn't eat very much, however."

"I don't have any appetite today. I just can't think of why." Daigo turned sullen. "I'm sure it'll come to me in a minute."

"Fair enough." Yayoi softened a little. She looked up at the sky, at the curtain of cloud slowly falling over the horizon. "Are you coming in? It might start raining soon."

"Yeah." Daigo slowly got to his feet. "…I'm real tired. Again. Think I'll go doze in front of the TV for a little while."

Eiji waited till Daigo and his mother were settled on the sofa, closing the shoji doors after them, then went to stand outside by the doorway. Hunger gnawed at him, his feet were aching, and exhaustion was making him droop a little. He did his best to ignore all those things. It was nearly seven o' clock. The sun was setting, nearly gone, and that was making him on edge.

This time last night, the Omi were only a few hours away. He shuddered, and touched a hand to his gun. On the other hand, the chances of them returning tonight were slim to nothing.

One more hour…then he'd be free.

—

His dreams were blurred, rushing past him in a dark tide.

Flashes of memories, from his past and present: pink bathwater, dripping down the side of the tub. The blow of a gym whistle. The downy smell of his daughter's hair. A lighter flaring. His kyodai, laughing. Nishikiyama turning to him with his dark smile, Majima's terrible grin. The scent of water lilies. Then her gentle hand, reaching up to him, and the jolt of panic that came with it: no, no, not me. Why me?

Yashiro jerked awake.

He was lying on his back, head turned to the side. The clock said ten past seven p.m. He'd been asleep maybe four hours, but it wasn't enough. His limbs felt leaden, weak. It was the setting sun that had woken him, scattering dark petals of light across his face—someone had opened the curtains. One window was halfway open, letting in fragrant night air. Yashiro inhaled slowly.

Across from him Zenshiro's bed was empty. His clothes were strewn on top of it, so he was probably in the shower. Yashiro turned his gaze to the ceiling and experimentally shifted his body. Pain bit at him and he hissed. He slowly, stiffly, hauled himself up and sat bowed on the edge of his bed.

Today hadn't been good to him. First he'd let himself be provoked by Aizawa and got flung into a table for it. Then Majima had beaten him. On top of all that, his throat and head were still sore from fighting with that Omi. He felt like a kicked dog, and his black mood curdled like something rancid inside him. If any of his men gave him even a little bit of lip, he was cutting off their ear.

My men, Yashiro thought sourly. My team. Ha. As if they'd even respect me anymore after—

He cut off that thought, and dragged a hand through his tangled hair. It was time to get ready. He reached up, fumbling at the buttons on his shirt with a grimace. Pain was nothing. Pain could wait. He needed to shower and eat something, he felt hollow from hunger. A draft whispered against his face as the bedroom door opened, and Zenshiro came in.

He was damp, wearing only a towel around his narrow waist, another smaller one draped over his head. He blinked when he saw Yashiro looking at him.

"…I was gonna wake you. How're you feelin', Yacchan?"

"Sore." Yashiro hid a wince as he rolled his shoulders. "Tired. Nothing new."

"You should take somethin'. For the pain."

"No."

"No?"

"My pain's the least of my concerns."

Zenshiro scowled. He didn't know why he'd expected a different answer. Yashiro had always been like this.

"Why? Why do you always fuckin' insist on sufferin' all the—"

"It's tolerable," Yashiro growled at him. "And frankly, it's my pride that hurts more than anything, not some bruises."

He began to peel his sweaty shirt off, clenching his jaw. "…Majima-san planned my humiliation well. I don't know if any of those idiots will even listen to me anymore after what happened."

"They should. They will." Zenshiro saw the purpling blotches on Yashiro's waist and abdomen, even some on his shoulders, and felt a surge of anger. "If they don't, I'll be the one beating them black and blue."

"It's not just that." Yashiro started on his trousers. He scowled at the memory. "…If I hadn't been so exhausted, there's no way I would've let that Aizawa make the first move. I would've stopped him. And…I would've sensed him coming, too. Tonomori-san."

He shucked the trousers off. "But I didn't. One moment he wasn't there, then he was. He literally threw me off-guard. When was the last time something like that happened? Not for years, not since...well. Exhaustion or no…I'm slipping, Zen-chan."

"That's not true." Zenshiro hoped he didn't sound as pleading as he thought. "Hey. We've just worked fuckin' thirty-six hours in the space of three nights. And you were injured too. Can't you give yourself a break for—"

"That's not it." Yashiro frowned at his hands. "I should've heard him coming, Zen-chan. Tired or not. He was silent, that's what I'm getting at—I didn't even hear the door open. I should've heard him coming!"

"Everyone gets distracted, Yacchan. Even you."

"…Just be mindful." Yashiro's dark eyes narrowed. "I think we need to watch ourselves. Because Tonomori-san was watching us, all of us. I could feel that during our training. Us two especially…and Azumasa. Did you notice?"

"Um. No." Zenshiro had been too preoccupied with simply staying upright. He shrugged uncomfortably. "That's not so strange. We're all new guys, and while Azumasa's nice, he's also freakish in a number of ways. And frankly if I didn't know him, I'd keep an eye on him too."

"Well, he's drawn Tonomori-san's attention." Yashiro cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the hoarseness. "I don't know what's going on there, but it's suspicious. Just keep an eye out. And don't let your guard down."

"I won't." Zenshiro sat on his bed and began roughly drying his hair. "It's not him I'm upset about."

"Don't even think about it." Yashiro's voice was even. "I can feel your anger. Let it go."

"No. Fuck that. I'll get Majima-san for what he did." Zenshiro flung the towel aside, raking a hand back through his damp hair. He bared his teeth at his mentor. "He's old, and I'm younger, I'm faster than him—"

"Stop," Yashiro growled. "You've seen him fight. You're not faster than the Mad Dog. Besides, there's no wrong to be corrected. I disobeyed…and was punished. That's all there is to it."

"It isn't and you know it!" Zenshiro hissed. "That little shit Keizo didn't get punished at all! And he was the one gettin' in their faces! It's not fair!"

"Fair?" Yashiro said softly. "You shouldn't have joined the yakuza if you were looking for fairness, Zenshiro. Some things are better left behind you. You'll understand that one day."

"You really expect me to do nothin'??" Zenshiro pulled his underwear over his hips, then yanked his trousers on. "'Cause if you do, I got news for ya!"

"I expect you to obey." Yashiro balled up his dirty clothes and tossed them into their laundry hamper. It would be time to do a load soon. He stood and wrapped a clean towel around his waist, turning to face his former student.

"You chose to stick by me, Zen-chan. And it was more than a choice: it was a promise. Wasn't it?"

His voice had gone quiet. Zenshiro's eyes widened a little. Yashiro continued.

"I have nothing left. You know that. Uko-sensei, Yuzo, Nishikiyama-san, my family…all gone. You told me you would be the exception. The one who didn't leave in some way. You promised. That means you chose to obey me in all things. Yes?"

"…Yes."

"Then still your emotions and listen to me. Don't go after Majima-san. Attacking your patriarch is a death sentence. Majima-san would simply kill you. Then he'd kill me, because I was the one who brought you into the yakuza. Is that what you want?"

Zenshiro was silent, unable to meet Yashiro's gaze. He stared at his own hands. They trembled.

"…I'm getting into the shower." Yashiro walked stiffly towards the door. "I want you to get ahold of yourself, then go downstairs and eat something. If Majima-san's still here, don't go near him unless he summons you. And be calm. He'll sniff out your bloodlust."

The other said nothing.

"Don't eat all the leftovers either. If you think you've seen me mad…you haven't." With that last lingering threat, and a dark glance over his shoulder, Yashiro left. Zenshiro's sharp ears picked up the faint padding of his footsteps as they retreated down the corridor.

He yanked open their closet, found a clean shirt, then sat back down on his bed. His shaking fingers could barely do the first button, and he swore. Zenshiro bowed his head, letting his dark hair fall across his face. Why was he so useless? Why couldn't he protect what was important to him?

Something gleamed in his right peripheral, catching the dying rays of the sun.

He turned his head. Yashiro had put his daggers atop the dresser; one was only partially-sheathed. Zenshiro stood up and went over to it. He slowly closed a hand over the hilt, meaning to sheathe it…then drew it out.

The blade was clean, polished, and wicked sharp. This pair of daggers had been given to Yashiro by his kyodai, Yuzo, many years ago—that much Zenshiro knew. Yashiro called them his fangs. They had killed many a man, many an Omi, and would undoubtedly kill many more.

Zenshiro slowly clenched the dagger hilt. It felt worn and smooth from years of use. He gave it a tentative sniff: leather and sweat, the metallic smell of the blade, almost like blood. And the faintest hint of his mentor's cologne. The hilt had a smudge of dirt on it, he noticed. So did both sheathes. From when Majima had kicked Yashiro to the ground.

His blood boiled for a brief second, then cooled. Zenshiro slowly set the dagger back on the dresser as he found it.

I gotta be cold, implacable, like this blade. Yacchan's right. I can't touch Majima-san…

…But someone else can hurt in his place.

He did his shirt up, fingers steady, slipped his belt on. He combed his damp hair. The earpiece and radio were hooked up, gun slid into its holster. Exhaustion numbed him, but he set it aside. He had never felt calmer, nor more lucid. Zenshiro left the bedroom and descended the stairs slowly, his eyes cold and distant.

Perhaps later, he would hunt.

—

Kiryu hadn't meant to take another nap after dinner, but he'd somehow found himself back in his bedroom anyway, after Yayoi firmly refused his help washing-up. The heavy drowsiness from eating a full meal dragged him down into sleep again, and when he woke, it was nearly seven-thirty p.m. Kiryu hauled himself into a sitting position with a low curse. At this rate he'd be awake most of the night.

I might as well be on night-shift myself, he thought wryly, as he splashed his water on his face in the bathroom. Which reminded him: he'd meant to check on Yashiro, see how he was faring after Majima's beating. Both he and his partner would be up by now, surely. But first: a beer.

As Kiryu neared the kitchen, he could hear arguing voices. Whatever had happened at HQ, it seemed to have spread discontent among the bodyguard team—and no doubt Majima's reaction hadn't helped. He paused a yard before the doorway, unsure whether to go in or not.

"Stop bein' such an ass!" he heard Zenshiro say. "I'm so fed up with it! You are hurtin' and uncomfortable, and what's the fuckin' point in bein' some kind of martyr about it? Just take this ibuprofen I found."

"I told you, I don't want it. My pain isn't important, Zen-chan. We have much bigger problems," Yashiro snapped back. "Keep your voice down, and keep your mind on the job. Let me worry about myself—"

"That's the problem," Zenshiro snarled. "You don't worry about yourself, you fuckin' jackass!" There was a sudden thud, like someone had slammed their fist on the table. "Name me the last time you looked after yourself properly. When you didn't try to hide your wounds or illness from me, forcin' yourself to go on until you passed out. I'm waitin'!"

"I—"

"Just stop doin' this!" Zenshiro's voice became a pained whisper. "Stop punishin' yourself for—for—everythin', Yacchan! For Uko-sensei, for Yuzo, for Nishikiyama-san, for your—look, just stop! None of it was your fault!"

"I'm not—"

"Do you like doin' this?" Zenshiro went on. His voice held the barest tremble. "Do you like fuckin' hurtin' me like this? Do you know how much it kills me to see you doin' this again? Just soakin' up your pain like a fuckin' sponge and wringin' yourself empty?"

"The pain will pass." Yashiro sounded tense. "The bruises will fade. What Majima-san did was nowhere near the worst I've endured. This is nothing, I told you. It will pass."

"So you just don't give a shit about how I feel, then. Did you hear a fuckin' word of what I just said??" There was another thud. "Fine. I get it. You were always like this, and I guess I can't expect you to change now!"

"Zenshiro—"

Kiryu cleared his throat.

The two men glanced sharply toward the kitchen doorway. Both had showered and cleaned themselves up, Yashiro wearing a fresh shirt free of scuff marks from where Majima had stomped on him, his hair in a half-ponytail. Zenshiro was glowering, pale and tired under the kitchen lights. Both men had grey circles under their eyes. Kiryu could see near-empty plates of food in front of them. He shook his head as they made to leap up.

"It's fine. You don't need to stand. I didn't mean to interrupt anything. I just wanted to check on you, Kurokawa-san, after…what happened earlier."

A flash of surprise and confusion crossed Yashiro's face, before he hid it. "…I'm fine, Chairman Kiryu-san. I've had worse. "

"I don't think anyone would be fine after a beating like that." Kiryu raised an eyebrow. "No matter how tough they were."

The man grunted. "If anything, Majima-san did me a favor. The pain will keep me awake tonight."

Zenshiro put a hand over his eyes.

"…I guess that's one way of looking on the bright side." Kiryu paused, then pulled a chair out from the table and sat down across from them. He gave Yashiro a sharp look.

"…Are you sure you're ok? Nothing feels like it's broken or dislocated? Too painful to move? And don't lie to me."

"Just bruising. As I said." Yashiro gave him a cool stare. "Pardon my disrespect, but as fourth chairman, you needn't concern yourself with my wellbeing. It's irrelevant to you. Besides, Zenshiro's nagging is bad enough."

"Fuck you," Zenshiro hissed. "God forbid I care about you, my mentor who I've only known since I was fuckin' sixteen—"

"If I tell you not to worry, you just get more upset." Yashiro sounded weary. "We're circling around to the same argument again."

"Then fuckin' stop it with the loner-tough-guy bullshit!" Zenshiro snapped. "It's wearin' fuckin' old! Why do you never let me help you??"

"Stop shouting," Yashiro said icily. "Don't do this in front of the fourth chairman, Zenshiro. You're still tired and wound up from this afternoon. We'll talk about this later—"

"Will we? Or will you just shut down the conversation or blow me off? As usual?" Zenshiro abruptly shoved his chair back, getting to his feet. "Well fuck you too. Go and suffer in silence, Yacchan, then suffer some more, you seem to really like doin' that. You like pushin' me away. Keep doin' it and I'll be gone for fuckin' good—like you always wanted!"

"Zen—"

"You wouldn't even care, would you?" Zenshiro continued, his voice tightening. "The fuckin' lone Black Wolf, on his own against the world. How poetic. How noble. A yakuza legend for the ages. Until the moment you find yourself alone and bleedin' out in a fuckin' ditch, that is! That's the kind of legendary death you seem to be holdin' out for!"

"I—"

"Fuck you." Zenshiro yanked open the kitchen side-door and strode out. The door banged behind him.

Yashiro blew air out through his lips. He ran a hand through his hair, then began picking at his remaining food with his chopsticks, not meeting Kiryu's eyes. "…I'm sorry you had to see that, Chairman Kiryu-san."

"I think it's been a long day for both of you." Kiryu frowned, crossing his arms. "I didn't mean to make him turn on you."

"You didn't. It's been like this between us ever since Majima-san…no, even before that. For years." Yashiro stared at his plate. "…I'm not the best at maintaining personal relationships. In case you haven't noticed."

"Can't say that I'm much better." Kiryu glumly thought of Daigo.

A grey silence fell, each man dwelling on their own situation. Yashiro then raised his gaze, choosing his words carefully. "…Yet you and Majima-san get on pretty well. You've been friends for a long time, I know that."

"…I suppose everyone knows now." Kiryu gave a quiet snort of amusement. "And you? Why…or how…did you and Otake-san decide to join Majima's family?"

"We didn't. He sought us out, not long after Nishikiyama-san died." Yashiro had a drink, then set the glass down with a firm crack. "He took in a lot of former Nishikiyama men, but he asked—well, ordered us to join him—in person. The Majima Family was thin on experienced assassins, despite being thousands strong. He wanted our…expertise."

And reputation, Kiryu thought. Yashiro continued.

"It also pleases Majima-san to have me—us—leashed, at his beck and call. Ready and waiting to hang as a threat over others. I wasn't surprised. Nishikiyama-san was the same."

Kiryu shifted in his seat. There were many questions he wanted to ask, about Nishiki…but now seemed a bad time. Zenshiro's words had left a pall over the other man, and Kiryu didn't want to pry too much. Yashiro went on, his tone cool and measured.

"…I also know Majima-san better than he thinks I do."

"Oh?"

"Yes." He gave Kiryu a faint, sly smile. "I know his little quirks, the way he fights. I won't lie, I even adapted some of his techniques into my own fighting style: we both fight with blades, after all. But I perfected them, expanded them, for use with two daggers. Sometimes I wonder, if we ever fought…which one of us would win…"

Kiryu raised an eyebrow. It was an interesting thought. "Majima is very fast."

"So am I." Yashiro rolled his shoulders. "And physically stronger too, I think…though not as strong as you."

"He's also pretty vicious." Kiryu sighed to himself. Why point out the obvious to a man whom Majima had personally beaten?

"I made my reputation on my viciousness. Or did you not see those two Omi corpses?" Yashiro narrowed his black eyes. "I didn't rise to the top ranks of the Consortium for my sweet, mild manner. To survive in that organisation you must kill off every weak and soft part of you, Chairman Kiryu-san…or you will be eaten alive.

"…That's why I dissuaded Zenshiro from joining them, no matter how much those jackals wanted him. Not that it was hard. He would follow me anywhere." Yashiro lowered his gaze again.

"…I didn't want the Nikkyo to poison him. I didn't want him…to become like me. And I still don't."

A breeze blew through the open window, bringing in cool night air. The wind-bell chimed. A pained sadness had come over Yashiro's face, making him look surprisingly vulnerable. Kiryu was a little in shock. He cleared his throat, and Yashiro's face closed up again.

"…If that's how you feel, Kurokawa-san…then..."

"I know what you're saying." Yashiro pushed his chair back abruptly, and stood. "Zenshiro…is my last weakness. I did have one left, after all. I realised that a long time ago." He grabbed his plate, rinsed it off, then put it in the dishwasher before turning to face Kiryu.

"…You heard him just now. I'd say I've nearly succeeded in driving him away. Maybe that's for the best…yet he did make a promise to me, years ago. But the aftermath of my punishment earlier exposed the rift between us…and that rift could deepen. Maybe, by the time our bodyguard job ends, our long time together will finally be over…and we will move on from each other."

Those last words seem to hang in the air like the tones of a bell, prophetic and inevitable. Yashiro paused. Something cold bloomed inside him, spreading down from his core to the tips of his toes. He felt a fragile sensation within him, underneath him, like ice cracking. Just a hallucination of his tired mind, surely.

"Is that…what you want?" Kiryu was saying. "Kurokawa-san?"

Yashiro shook his head and gathered himself.

"My wants…don't enter into it. Wanting has never caused me anything but pain. I try to live without it, but it's difficult. Very difficult. But I suppose I do have one selfish desire.

"…I want Zenshiro to be happy." He curled one hand into a fist. "But I can't make that happen. I don't know how. Yet…if he wants to leave…if that will…"

He closed his mouth and looked away. Kiryu considered, trying to think of something encouraging to say, but coming up empty. Before he could think about it more, Yashiro suddenly grabbed Zenshiro's plate and put it with the others in the dishwasher. He turned back to Kiryu, stiff and blank-faced again, his jaw clenched.

"…But nevermind all that. Forget I said anything. And please say nothing to Chairman Dojima-san or his mother either. This is my problem…not any of yours."

His eyes flickered to the clock in the kitchen. Quarter to eight. "If you'll excuse me, Fourth Chairman. I need to clear my head before I go on duty."

"Wait," Kiryu intoned, and Yashiro stilled. Kiryu picked up two little tablets that were on the table, and held them out. "These are the painkillers Zenshiro found, aren't they? Take them. That's an order."

That was pretty much the same tone the fourth chairman used when he was telling the sixth to eat something. Yashiro bristled a little, but remained expressionless. "…Yes, sir."

Kiryu watched him swallow them with a glass of water. Perhaps this was his good deed for the man, after failing to stop Majima from beating him. He nodded. "Alright. You can go."

Yashiro bowed stiffly, then left.

Kiryu let his breath out, and leant back in his chair. He supposed that living with this many people, there would bound to be drama between them of some sort or another. Yashiro and Zenshiro, Keizo and Asahi…and technically, none of it was his business. He thought of Yashiro's words.

As fourth chairman, you needn't concern yourself with my wellbeing. It's irrelevant to you.

He was right, in a way. And yet...

Kiryu got up and took a beer from the fridge, popping the cap off with a satisfying hiss. The sharp, full taste cleared his head some. He swilled some around his mouth, mulling over his thoughts before swallowing.

He supposed he couldn't help feeling some concern for Majima's men, after living around them for a few days. Some were pretty young, and that brought out some protective instinct in him. But with Yashiro it was different. Maybe it was because he'd known Nishiki—a lost link to his deceased best friend. Maybe it was because he seemed vaguely familiar somehow, in a way that Kiryu couldn't place, no matter how much he wracked his brains. A dim shadow from the past.

I've never seen him before. I know that. But there's something about the eyes...

Kiryu closed his own. Maybe he'd seen them in passing in a crowd before. Or in a bar. He wasn't sure.

Whenever he tried to remember, he only saw Nishiki's face.

Kiryu sat heavily at the table again, leaning on his elbows. His kyodai was long gone, he told himself, and there were more important living people to worry about. He pressed the cold bottle to his forehead and shut his eyes.

But for now, he had a beer, and silence.

—

End of Part 22 - TBC