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The fight ends with Majima grunting and curling on the pavement, both arms clutching his side where the faded, dust-greyed bandage soaks up another color the shade of cherry blossoms, and Kiryu almost feels sorry. Almost. The rage in his veins is still too hot and too bright.
"Damn, Kiryu-chan," Majima grits out, the syllables breathy and badly articulated, "ya been training behind my back, weren't ya? I feel like a million bucks."
Kiryu watches him struggle to sit with his back against a nearby trashcan. His usually bloodless face is even paler, the one good eye in high contrast with its darkened circles and red rimmed edges. Majima's head tips backward with a heavy thud and heaving exhale. He'll pass out, Kiryu thinks, and wonders if it would really be so bad leaving him there, unconscious in a dirty, rat-infested alley.
A toothy, manic grin splits Majima's face. "Kiryu-chan," he whines, "ya still mad at me?"
Finally, Kiryu snaps. "You didn't have to take Haruka."
"It was just business. 'Sides, ya know me. I don't get kicks from kiddies." He slips one hand inside his jacket and pulls out a pack of Hi-Lites. "I ain't laid a finger on her."
"You're full of shit. Nii-san." Kiryu spits the honorific like a snake spits venom.
Majima barks out a sharp laugh, then winces and tenses up. Kiryu notices the pink dot on his abdomen darkening. For a moment, Kiryu's rage dulls with the blunt edge of guilt. Perhaps he didn't have to uppercut him in the exact same spot. "Ya so funny, Kiryu-chan, I'm dying here." He shakes one cigarette out to pick with his lips and then extends the pack to Kiryu. A peace offering. "Look, I wouldn't traumatize a kid. Just ask her. Even went and got her the finest takeout of takoyaki in town."
Kiryu isn't sure if Majima is aware that kidnapping can without a doubt be classified as traumatizing and he still doesn't believe a word he says, but he pushes his anger on the backburner. What is he going to gain from making a full-fledged enemy out of Majima? Nothing, with a hefty bonus of a knife in the gut. Slowly, he walks over and pulls out a cigarette for himself. The corner of Majima's mouth curls up in a smile, but he says nothing. Kiryu keeps scowling. He will be scowling for some time, at Majima.
There's an overturned crate next to the trashcans and Kiryu sits down while Majima is fumbling with a lighter. His hand is shaking and the flame won't ignite. "You should be in a hospital."
"What, ya my mother now?"
"You can't just walk off a stab wound." Majima manages to turn the wheel of the lighter just right but the force of his movement makes him drop it and he curses. Kiryu sighs. "Here."
"I can light a fag."
"Yeah. You're doing great."
"Fuck off, Kiryu-chan," he says around the cigarette with no real bite. His eye twinkles in the glow of the lighter Kiryu holds up to his face, one bright dot amid the wreathing smoke, looking up at Kiryu from his position on the filthy asphalt. He wears an expression Kiryu cannot quite place - mellow, perhaps a little sad, infinitely tired. The last one is more relatable than the others and Kiryu has the impression he is back in prison and looking at his reflection in the shiny aluminium tray laden with meager portions of revolting food. Then Majima looks away and it's gone, like a flash of light from firetrucks passing by at a great speed.
"Majima-san," Kiryu ventures when they're halfway through the smoke. "What's your stake in all this?"
"That's a ten billion question." He snickers. "Ten billion! See what I did there, Kiryu-chan?"
"Majima-san."
"Ya don't really expect I'll answer that, do ya?"
Kiryu takes a last, deep inhale before he drops the cigarette butt on the ground and grinds it under his foot. Where it was smoldering it now falls apart in feather-light particles of ash. "No, not really." He feels wrung out.
Something warm and solid bumps against his knee and stays there - Majima finally pushed past his limit and passed out, sliding partially to the side of the trashcan, cigarette hanging from his lips in a manner that would have been comical if it wasn't a fire hazard. Kiryu removes it and grinds it out next to his. He pulls out his phone and dials Nishida's number.
"It's Kiryu. Your boss is taking a nap in the alley behind Pink Street- yes, that one. Also, you should put your foot down and take him to a doctor, no matter how much he spits and bristles. No, I'm not coming with you. Bye."
He gets up. Majima stirs a little, but doesn't make it all the way back to consciousness. Kiryu can hear soft snores over the noise from beyond the line of buildings. He laughs at the absurdity of it all - he should be getting to the bottom of the important things, making sure Haruka was safe and reuniting her with her mother, not to dunk it out in a dark alley with a Tojo officer with self-destructive tendencies.
He sets out to rectify it. After all, Nishida will be here soon.
*
It's not that Kiryu doesn't anticipate running into Majima, it's 'how' he runs into Majima.
Majima startling him through a convenience store window. Majima in a police officer get-up with a stern tone that doesn't match the excitement sparkling in his eye. Majima jumping him from a rooftop in a dark alley. Majima materializing behind him in the line at Smile Burger. Majima chasing him across the whole town in zombie make-up - this one takes the cake, Kiryu thinks, with the amount of planning dumped into it, although Kiryu is also strangely impressed. He needs to keep an eye out on the bootleg DVD stores in case Majima really turns the experience into a B-flick.
However, in the long run, Kiryu is tired. He has other things to do, other places to be. Perhaps now that Majima is injured, he'll leave him alone for a while. The lack of Nishida's cryptic messages supports that theory.
In one of Champion District's no-name bars Kiryu sighs over a tumbler of whiskey and dares to hope. It's Friday night and the milling of bodies and voices makes him feel even more isolated and he's the only one drinking there alone. Dissolving into anonymity. At least there's no-one out to get him. He can appreciate that.
A high pitched cackle bursts out above the level of the general noise and Kiryu freezes with his glass pressed against his lips. He knows that sound. It usually comes in a neat package with a fist to the face. Slowly, he puts his drink down on the counter and slides one hand into his suit pocket for his phone. No email, no missed call, no warning from Nishida, nothing. He dares to hope this is just a coincidence and turns his head to scan the crowd, searching for the tell-tale hideous snakeskin jacket.
He doesn't find it, but he does find an eyepatch.
Across the room, tucked on a sofa in a corner between two men in suits who look less like gangsters and more like businessmen after a work week, is seated a person who is and, at the same time, isn't Majima. The facial features are there - the same hawk-ish nose, the one-eyed stare, although enhanced with a too generous dusting of eyeshadow and bold black strokes of eyeliner, the mouth and the same grin, except it's fuller and pinker and shiny with lip gloss, even the beard is there, but where Majima's usual haircut should be is a voluminous blonde hairdo, complete with a dainty pink bow the same shade as the dress - the dress! - and Kiryu has to blink to make sure he sees right, the shiny PVC clinging tight to the sub-par curve of Majima's waist and the skirt so short it barely covers Majima's crotch.
One of the businessmen notices it too, apparently, when his hand comes to rest at the visible patch of skin above the hem of a fishnet stocking, because of course there are also fishnet stockings, and his fingers casually slide under the flimsy skirt. Majima - or this apparition in pink resembling Majima - whips around to look the man in the eye, says something Kiryu has no chance to hear with a smile as sweet as it is dangerous and the man quickly withdraws his hand as if burned.
It's then when Kiryu is found out.
Quickly, he turns back to his drink. Perhaps he can pretend he's not here. Or maybe he should just slam a handful of bills on the bar and wing it. Yes, that would be best. He pulls out his wallet at lightning speed but before he can open it, he feels the unmistakable presence of another body sliding onto the bar stool beside him, conveniently located between him and the exit, and Kiryu is regretting all his life choices that led him here, to this moment.
"Hey there, stud." The voice is dramatically sultry and campy, but still carries the same undertone as Majima's. "Drinkin’ alone on a Friday night?"
Kiryu knows when he has lost and pockets his wallet again. He makes a sound that passes as acknowledgment.
"Oh, the strong, silent type. My favorite." A touch on his forearm and all Kiryu can see are the long, pink acrylic nails. His throat goes dry - he really doesn't want this to end in a fight. "The party boys are so boring, they all can think just about the one thing."
At that Kiryu can't help but laugh a little.
"So, what should I call ya, handsome?"
Kiryu inclines his head a little, enough to have Majima in his peripheral vision. "I think you know that, Nii-san."
"Oi!" and the nails dig into his arm. Kiryu turns the full way and, despite his previous observation, is still a little taken aback by the appearance. At this distance he can see the gold glitter dusting the entirety of Majima's cleavage. "I won't have this slander. And my eyes are up here." A giggle. "Eye. Whatever."
Kiryu feels his face heating. "Then what should I call you?"
"Rude, not introducing yourself to a lady first."
"You're not-" he doesn't finish the sentence because his throat goes dry at the innocent look and batting eyelashes, "fine. Kiryu. Kiryu Kazuma."
The grip on his arm eases and he gets a wide, toothy grin, the same one he gets from Majima when assuming a fighting stance. "Goromi."
Kiryu suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. "Pleased to meet you. Goromi-san," he adds. Maybe, if he plays his cards right, they will just talk with no brawling involved whatsoever.
Goromi lets out a delighted sound and leans on the counter. "Will ya buy me a drink, Kiryu-chan?" she says in that higher, affected tone while tucking a strand of fake blond hair behind her ear and Kiryu can't believe it works on him. He waves over the bartender and lets her pick whatever she fancies; she orders a thing he has never heard of before and soon enough is sipping on a colorful concoction Kiryu wouldn't have the courage to consume. "Ya look tired, Kiryu-chan. Had a long day?"
He picks up his glass again. "Something like that."
"Don't wanna talk about it?"
"Not particularly, no."
"Aww, poor thing," she croons. It's not as demeaning as he expected it to be. "Good thing ya ran into me, then. Goromi will make all yer earthly woes disappear!"
Now Kiryu does roll his eyes. "And how exactly will she achieve that?" he says while shaking out a cigarette from his pack.
Without waiting for him to offer, Goromi claims it for her own. "Ya'll see. Just relax and enjoy the show. This'll be a night to remember," she says and waits for him to light her cigarette. Once Kiryu does, she takes a deep draft and puffs the smoke out with a dreamy expression, her lips slightly pursed as if for a kiss and eye half-lidded. She holds the cigarette between the knuckles of her index and middle finger, not like Majima with the pads of his forefinger and thumb. It suits her.
Only when she looks at him and smiles a knowing smile does Kiryu realize he has been staring with an unlit cigarette stuck between his lips, like an idiot. He clicks his lighter again. "Like what ya see, stud?"
He coughs a little and pretends it was because of the smoke.
Somehow, Goromi coaxes him to talk with surprising ease. Her charm is easy to accept and difficult to let go - before Kiryu knows it, he's on his second whiskey telling her about his days in real estate.
"No way! I don't buy ya owned the entire town at one point. I ain't a sweet, naive twenty-something."
Kiryu chuckles, amused, and since he has already stepped into this world, he might as well go fully in. "Could have fooled me," he says in his best telephone club voice.
Goromi looks scandalized. "My, Kiryu-chan," she gasps with her hand covering her mouth in mock awe. "I had no idea ya had this in you - ya making me blush."
Kiryu is fairly certain it's him who's doing the blushing. "What about you and the eighties?" he tries to shift the focus. "You must have a lot of stories."
"I spent a good chunk of it playing dress-up with girls, otherwise," Goromi pauses, her vibrant presence dulled by the looming shadows of Majima's demons and Kiryu mentally kicks himself for having asked her, "nothing to write home about."
"Dress-up with girls?" he latches on to the piece of information to distract her when she has so visibly deflated.
She snorts out a laugh. "Used to run a cabaret."
Kiryu is genuinely surprised. "A cabaret? Here?"
"Nah, in a backwater dive of a town."
"How much of a dive? Somehow, I have trouble imagining that."
"Duh, OK. It was in Osaka. Don't laugh! I hated it there," she stabs an accusing finger at him, "it was a stinking, filthy cesspool full of horny old geezers burning cash like incense."
"How is Kamurocho any different?"
"It's my home," Goromi deadpans, accent-less. She finishes the last of her drink with a pointed glare, daring Kiryu to challenge that statement, but when he doesn't, she sighs and shifts in her seat so her knee bumps into his. "I do miss the takoyaki, though. Sotenbori streetfood’s just on a whole ‘nother level."
"Never took you for such a takoyaki connoisseur."
"Laugh it up, Kiryu-chan, what can I do?" she exclaims in Majima's voice and kicks him in the shin. "It's stronger than me. Got a problem with that?"
"Not at all. I think it's cute," he answers, truthfully. Before she can voice a retort he decides to roll with it. "What else do you like, Goromi-san?"
"Me?" she draws out and her playful, sublime lilt is back. She inclines her head a little as if in deep thought, but to Kiryu it looks more like a colorful bird posing on its perch to show off its feathers. Then she proceeds to stretch her lips into a slow, wicked grin as if she thought of something extra funny and simply says: "Beef."
Kiryu furrows his brows. "Like BBQ?"
"BBQ, and big, burly men. The kind that could snap me in half if he put his mind to it. Sorta like you, stud," Goromi slides her hand from his shoulder to his biceps and licks her lips. "Betcha you're a beast with guns like these. Ya could wipe the floor with me," she leans in, never breaking eye contact, Kiryu catches a whiff of a sickly sweet perfume and her closeness is threatening to overwhelm him. "And I'd let ya."
Despite the alcohol buzzing in his veins, he is aware enough to recognize the bait. Her hand is squeezing his upper arm and he can feel those claws all the way under the layers of his suit. Kiryu gulps and, once again, settles for honesty. "I would never hit you, Goromi-san."
The reaction is immediate - her grip tightens and Kiryu is spun to fully face her. "Ya think yer funny?"
"I mean it."
"I can give ya a run for yer money with the eyepatch on my good eye, asshole."
"I know you can, but I just don't-" he trails off. If looks could kill he'd be dead by now. "I don't hit women," he finishes.
Goromi is staring at him the same way Majima did when he beat him at MesuKing. "Well shit, I've found a true gentleman, with manners and all. Too bad I don't care about ‘em."
"Maybe you don't," Kiryu says, starting to find his confidence when she hasn't resorted to violence yet. "But I do. No exceptions. I'd rather go buy you dinner."
She continues staring, her mouth hanging open.
Kiryu takes his chance. "I hear there's a new takoyaki place over at Shichifuku Street."
And just like that, the death grip leaves his arm and Goromi cackles like a siren. "Fine, ya win this one. I'll get my bag," she announces and springs to her feet. Kiryu opens his wallet and sneaks a peek at Goromi's impossibly long legs swaying in the even more impossible high heeled pumps. He almost underpays because he wasn't previously aware that those tattoos go all the way down to her thighs and his brain does not seem to compute this new observation. She joins him at the door with a purse the same shade of pink as her dress and with the eyes of those men in suits she ditched for him trailing after her, like moths drawn to a flame. She pays them no heed. Kiryu scowls in their direction and they disappear.
Outside, he offers Goromi his arm. She laughs a little as she accepts it, her breath coming out as a puff of steam in the December air. "Are you cold?" Kiryu asks.
"I run hotter than hell, Kiryu-chan. I'm fine."
It doesn't stop at the takoyaki. After dinner, which Goromi declared decent by her Sotenbori standards, she makes good on her promise and takes Kiryu on a crawl through half of town including the arcade, some seedy hole-in-the-wall bar that Kiryu never noticed before and top it off with shots and dance at Debolah. By that time, Kiryu is way past the line of tipsy and teetering on the verge of drunk, and Goromi doesn't help him sobering up with how her body writhes to the beat of a bass drum. The lights of the club flicker on her skin like the neons of the city, her bare shoulders glistening with a fine coating of sweat as she loses herself in the wall of sound that passes for music. Every time she spins, the hannya's eyes stare a hole right through him, and every time Goromi faces him again, there's a smile with teeth to match. She's beautiful, Kiryu thinks, raw and pure like the sharpened blade of a knife, just as dangerous, and with sudden clarity, he knows he can take getting cut.
The ebb and flow of the crowd pushes them to the edge of the dancefloor and Goromi takes it from there, pulling Kiryu by the wrist toward the bar to order a Martini while Kiryu forks out the cash without getting anything for himself because it's painfully clear his tolerance has gone to shit over the last ten years. Then she drags him upstairs to a booth and the moment Kiryu sits down, he has her thighs across his lap.
"Damn, my feet are killin' me," Goromi complains as she toes her shoes off. "It's as they say, beauty hurts like a bitch."
Kiryu drapes one arm over the back of the couch and, having limited options and loosened inhibitors, sets his other hand on Goromi's thigh. It's scalding hot and hard muscle and the fishnet stocking sticks to his sweaty palm as he squeezes it. Unlike that man in the first bar, she does not rebuke him. It emboldens him. "You make it look effortless."
She takes the olive out of her Martini. "'Cause I got class, Kiryu-chan," she says and offers him the pick. "Any classy girl knows there's hardly a thing hotter than confidence."
Kiryu bites into the olive and drags it to his mouth with his teeth. Goromi stares at him, transfixed, and as the salty flesh bursts into a tangy flavor on his tongue he wishes they were somewhere private. He slides his hand down her thigh, to the soft spot under her knee and back up again, slowly, dragging it out as much as possible, because if prison taught him anything about the temporary nature of things, then this too would pass. Soon the club will close, Goromi will wish him goodnight and Majima will be out for his blood again. Life will go on.
"What the fuck is this?"
Kiryu sighs. Sometimes, life goes on too fast. Leering at them from across the low table of the booth is a group of five punks, barely older than twenty and at the very least two of them high as a kite. The stockiest of them at the center is doing the talking. "This isn't an okama whorehouse, bro. Get the fuck out."
Kiryu scowls, but before he can say anything, Goromi taps his cheek to get his attention. "Lemme handle this," she says loud enough for their audience to hear. "They don't know who they're talking to, am I right, lads?"
The goons sputter as she downs her drink in one go and slams the empty glass on the table. "To two old fags, who else?!" Shouts a tall lanky boy on their leader's left whose face is flush with booze. "Just stay in the Champion District where you belong."
"Yeah! Preenin' here like a fuckin'-" begins Pudge again, pauses when Goromi swings her legs to kneel on the couch and bends over Kiryu's lap to fish for her discarded shoes in the dark between the couch and the table. Kiryu is hyperaware of how her ass is on display like this. The punks, it appears, too. "Peacock!"
Kiryu leans his head on his fist and lets the alcohol do the talking for him. "I peacocked your mom."
In that moment, Goromi emerges with one of her shoes in hand and a staccato shrill laughter. "Kiryu-chan, that was nasty! I love it."
"Shut the fuck up!" Screams Pudge and takes a step forward, but Goromi springs up and chooses violence. She flips the table and kicks it into them - the leader is knocked back and three more goons fall like domino tiles. A woman screams, but the music keeps playing.
Stalking forward, Goromi is playing with her shoe, holding it by the sole and slapping the high-heeled end on the palm of her left hand, as if it were a whip. "Ya know, yer all kinda young," she says, hips swaying and voice lilting, "I almost feel bad about this. But at the same time," she stops and points at them with the heel of her shoe, and in that instant, it's all Majima pointing his tanto, "you're old enough to know not to fuck with the clan."
A heavy silence - or what passes for it in a nightclub - settles. The tall beansprout recovers first. "Bullshit! No way there's freaks like you in the yakuza."
Pudge joins in. "Yeah!"
"I don't know guys," says a boy at the back who seems to be sobering up. "Look at the tattoos."
"Don't be a pussy, Jun, it's five on two."
"Five on one," Goromi corrects him. "Kiryu-chan is just here for the show. Now will ya quit yappin’ and get on with it?"
Kiryu remembers being a hot headed teenager, so he knows this is all it takes for the five youths to jump headfirst into a brawl. Of course, Goromi is out of their league. She incapacitates the tall guy within a second to the fight and then proceeds to use the vicious high-heeled pump on the face of one of the silent punks. Kiryu winces - he feels like this is worse than the tanto. Then she proceeds to spin and elbow another one in the back of his head and the kid drops to the floor, knocked out.
Enraged by this development, Pudge grabs a bottle off a nearby table and charges her with a roar, but Goromi side steps him and kicks him square in the back and into the railing of the balcony. He hangs there, like a boxer on ropes, struggling to find his footing. Goromi grabs him by the hair and slams his forehead on the metal.
The last one, Jun, wings it when Goromi as much as looks at him.
"Seriously? I was just gettin' warmed up," she drawls in her nasal bored voice and stretches. Her dress has shifted during the fight, enough that her bustier reveals her chest tattoos almost in their entirety. Kiryu gulps. "Can ya pass me my other shoe, Kiryu-chan?"
He finds it under the couch and throws it in her direction. The tall guy starts groaning and stirring. "We should leave."
"Ya always get the best ideas," she mocks as she slips her pumps back on. One is redder than the other. “Bastards ruined my shoes,” she complains, wrinkling her nose. She is standing on one leg with the other bent at the knee and raised up like a model housewife from an old pinup magazine and looking mightily offended.
Kiryu gets up just in time to see two bouncers appear at the head of the staircase and they immediately head for Goromi. "Come on!" He shouts and drags her to the fire exit.
"Wait, my bag!"
"You'll get it later."
"I can't get it later, jackass! All my stuff’s in there!" She shouts in full Majima voice and wiggles out of his grip, but by that time one of the bouncers has caught up to them and slams her into a wall forcefully enough to make her yelp.
Kiryu has never in his life punched someone so hard.
"Ya saved me! My prince," Goromi croons, patting his pec. "Can ya save my bag now too, please?"
"For pity’s sake," Kiryu grinds out, but goes. He takes the second bouncer down at a run to Goromi's loud whooping and when he thrusts her bright pink monstrosity of a purse into her arms, she makes a kissy face at him. He rolls his eyes and blushes hot red as he leads her down the rickety stairs of the fire exit.
"Wait, Kiryu-chan," he hears her call out when he's already down on the pavement and she is still half a storey behind, "I can't go that fast."
Kiryu takes a step back and holds out his hand. "The price for beauty, isn't it?"
"Shut up," she scoffs, but accepts the gesture. "I've seen ya ogling. Ya love my legs in these heels."
Kiryu helps her down and settles his arm around her shoulders as they hurry down the alley. He doesn't even feel embarrassed anymore. "Maybe."
She looks offended at first, then notices the smirk on his face and thaws. "I knew it!"
They round a corner into another darkened alley and soon enough emerge on East Shichifuku Street. The crowds have considerably thinned since they were outside the last time. Kiryu checks the time to find it's past 2 a.m. No wonder.
Goromi is squirming against his side and eventually out of his hold to dig around her bag and proceeds to pull out a half folded, half bundled piece of fabric that Kiryu recognizes as Majima's snakeskin jacket, however she managed to stuff it in times smaller handbag. She shakes it out to its normal shape and drapes it around her shoulders, leaving the sleeves to hang empty at her sides and snuggling into it. It's the best kind of cute Kiryu can think of.
"What?" She calls him out on his staring.
He chooses to cover with humor. "You steal that from your boyfriend?"
Goromi giggles. "More like from my asshole twin."
"How much of an asshole?"
"Let's see," she ponders and slowly starts walking. "There's this drop-dead gorgeous hunk of a man I like, but he's harassing him all the time as if to spite me."
Kiryu is sobering up by the second. "Is that so?"
"Yeah." She stops and fully faces him. Kiryu didn't pay much mind earlier to how she towers ever so slightly above him in those heels, but now he feels like in the presence of a supreme being not only in stature. "And he's so obsessed with it. I worry that if he keeps it up, there won't be a single piece of that hot stuff left for me to enjoy."
She's looking at him like she did at the club before they were so rudely interrupted. Kiryu doesn't even dare to breathe. "Why don't you say something then?"
"Told ya he's an asshole."
"Not to him. To that paramour of yours."
Goromi sways a little on her feet. "Kiryu-chan." Her voice is barely above a whisper.
He inches closer, close enough to feel her body heat. "Goromi," he says for the first time without the honorific. It sounds right.
Her eye flutters close, and in the next second she crumples and falls onto him in a half embrace. "I'm hungry."
Kiryu stands as if she poured a bucket of ice cold water on him. "Oh."
She nuzzles his shoulder and giggles. "I'm saaaw-rry."
"Didn't you have dinner?"
"But I burned through so much entertaining ya all night, I'm positively starving," she complains and bats her eyelashes. Against his better judgment, Kiryu still finds her cute. "Are ya mad?"
He steps back to put some distance between them. "No."
Goromi beams at him and takes his hand. "C'mon, my treat. I'm dyin' for a konbini bento."
Turns out bentos are already sold out at this time of night, as well as everything else save for a lone pack of egg sandwich and two rice balls. Goromi takes it as a slight against her person and Kiryu has to talk her out of calling the manager who most definitely is home in bed. She narrows her eye at him, but relents; then she piles all said items into his arms before plucking a hot yuzu lemon tea off the beverage shelf. "Ya want something?"
"Green tea."
She tuts. "No need to cheap out, it's not like yer drink of choice is gonna bankrupt me."
Kiryu laughs at that. "I'm just in the mood for something plain."
"Forgot yer out with ME? The Goromi experience got no room for 'plain'." She exclaims, but takes one bottle of unsweetened green tea off the shelf nonetheless. When she slams it on the counter, the clerk looks genuinely surprised as if he expected them to saunter out of the store without paying and starts marking them up only when Kiryu places his load of the groceries on the counter too. Goromi hands out her cash with the grace of a hostess pouring drinks and when she smiles in the way of goodbye, Kiryu swears he sees the clerk blush.
They crash at a bench over at Children's Park and Goromi rips the packaging of the sandwich. "Want some?"
Kiryu shakes his head as he's opening his tea. "I'm not hungry."
She shrugs and tears through the first half at lightspeed. When Kiryu is barely halfway through his bottle, she is done with the sandwich and inspects one of the rice balls. "Duh, I didn't notice it was plum. Here's your lottery prize," she says and sets it on his knee before snatching the remaining one.
He supposes he might as well eat it. "It's good for your health, actually."
"Kiryu-chan, I'm the picture of health," she says around a mouthful of rice and promptly chokes on it.
Kiryu shakes his head. He can't help his smile.
After the meal Goromi sighs and sits closer, enough for their legs to touch and for Goromi to lean her head on Kiryu's shoulder. Her hair tickles him on his cheek and he can smell a faint trace of Majima's cologne from the collar of her jacket. He wonders if he could get away with leaning in and sniffing it - the unique blend of cologne, perfume and a touch of synthetic bitterness that is so distinctly Goromi.
A phone rings and Goromi stirs. She leaves an indent in his suit where her head has been and she curses as she rummages through her bag. When she finds it, she flips it open with such force that the tiny charms hanging from it nearly fly off. "I swear I'm more of a babysitter than a boss," she grumbles and proceeds to furiously type out a reply. "Can't even have a night off."
Kiryu watches the far wall to the sound of her nails clicking on the keyboard. "Got to go?"
The clicking stops and Kiryu can feel her eye on him. Then it resumes. "In a bit. Yeah. Anyway," she says and flips the phone shut, tosses it into her bag and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Hi-Lites. Majima's brand. "I still got enough time to share a smoke with ya." She holds out the pack to him, offering.
Kiryu accepts it and Goromi lights it for him with a soft smile. At this point her lipstick is gone, and her lips are red and a little swollen. Kiryu suppresses the urge to trace the outline, suppresses even more damning urges when she puckers them to blow out the first whiff of smoke. He takes a deep drag of his cigarette to hide a sigh.
"You're kinda lucky, Kiryu-chan."
He turns to look at her. She sits half-collapsed on the bench's backrest, an ill-fitting snakeskin jacket bundled up around her neck, a lit cigarette between her knuckles with its smoke wreathing upward to heaven where she stares at something Kiryu has no way of seeing. "You're on the outside, free to walk whichever path you choose, doing whatever you damn well please. Have you gone to the sea lately?"
"Can't say I have."
"Watching you is like watching the waves. They sparkle in the sunset and you can't tear your eyes away, but blink-" she snaps her fingers, "and they're gone."
Kiryu takes the final puff of his cigarette and makes a decision. "Goromi."
She looks from the sky to the street, to the ground, anywhere but him.
"It doesn't really mean they're gone."
Now she looks at him, and Kiryu draws courage from that. "If you want to watch the sea, you go to the harbor. And if you ever want to see me," he says and tucks a strand of wayward blond hair behind her ear, "you know where to look, too. Be it high or low tide."
It may be a trick of light, but if the streetlamps are anything to go by, Goromi's cheeks have flushed from their usual pallor to match the dark bruised shade of her mouth. She stares at him like a doe caught in headlight, half-smoked cigarette forgotten and dripping ash on her lap. Kiryu gently pries it from her fingers and disposes of it. She wiggles in her seat so that she faces him fully, her legs bumping into his, her hands wrapping around his arm. She opens her mouth in an attempt to say something, falters, tries again, and lets out only a strange kind of whine that makes her blush even more.
Kiryu could watch this forever.
On her next attempt she rediscovers the secret art of speech. "Ya had no right to tell me that."
"What makes you think so?"
"Because!" Her voice is breaking between syllables. "I don't do nice guys, you big, stupid, sexy beast of a man."
Kiryu can't resist the smug grin pulling at his mouth. "Variety is the spice of life."
Goromi looks offended, but before she can form a retort or an insult, a conspicuous black sedan stops at the opening of the park. She notices Kiryu looking behind her and turns to see for herself. "And of all days TODAY they haul ass and don't keep me waiting for a minute longer, little fuckers," she says and growls. "There'll be hell to pay."
Kiryu gets up and offers her his hand. "They're just doing their job."
"Well, they suck balls at it!"
She squeezes into his side as he’s walking her over to the car. The windows are black so Kiryu doesn't see the driver's reaction to this development, but maybe it's Nishida there and he has probably learned not to be fazed by anything at this point. When they reach the backseat door, Kiryu opens it and holds it for her.
Goromi looks hesitant to climb in. "I hope ya liked yer evening, Kiryu-chan."
"I did," he says, earnest. "Thank you, Goromi."
She smiles, not in that manic fashion she favors, but a gentle tug at the corner of her mouth that reaches her eye. She traces a line from his cheek down to his jaw, his chin, the sharp acrylic nail grazing his stubble, then withdraws faster than he can start dwelling on it and disappears in the cabin.
He shuts the door behind her and the car begins its slow crawl down the street.
*
Once his body has healed, Kiryu is done with Kamurocho. Haruka shares the sentiment, and he can't wait to move with her somewhere where they don't see the Millennium Tower on every other street corner looming above them like a monumental gravestone to the people they loved. He pours all his energy into finding an apartment and a job and finds comfort in Haruka's smile that, at the same time, makes his heart ache for Yumi. When it all starts coming together Kiryu realizes that, after a long time, he is hopeful for the future.
That is until he gets a frantic call from Nishida.
"What do you mean 'disappeared'?" he asks while looking around the street, expecting Majima to materialize in front of him in an elaborate prank yet again.
"He's not home and doesn't answer my calls or messages or anything," says Nishida on the other end. Even through the distortion of telecommunication Kiryu has the impression he's panicking.
"He probably just went out, I'm sure it's nothing-"
"You don't understand, Kiryu-san," Nishida cuts him short in a completely un-Nishida-like way and Kiryu in that moment knows it isn't a setup for a fight after all. "He has locked himself in his apartment for the past three days and now he isn't there anymore because, uh, I sort of have a spare key and thought I'd check in case he needed something, but he didn't tell anyone anything and nobody has seen him in the city, and just, he hasn't been the same since you left the clan," Nishida talks so fast Kiryu has trouble keeping up with him. "I'm terribly sorry to be asking you this, but can you please find him? We're all really worried."
Kiryu takes a moment for the information to sink in, and focuses on a solution because that's what he does best. "You're certain he's not in Kamurocho?"
"The whole family has been looking with no luck. We're good at tracking people, Kiryu-san."
"Yeah, I... Noticed."
"I, uh, sorry about all that."
"Anyway," Kiryu says while pondering his options. It's still fairly early, with the sun just starting to descend. Plenty of time before he needs to get back to Haruka for the night. "I can't promise anything, but I'll try."
Nishida exhales into the phone with relief. "Thank you, Kiryu-san. This means more than you know."
"Save it for when I've found him."
"Oh and, it may not look like it, but the boss is actually very sensitive. If he's in a mood, please try to be gentle with him."
Kiryu wants to roll his eyes, but then he remembers Goromi sitting on a bench next to him, her faraway look and her soul laid bare, her bright red cheeks and flustered voice, her grip on his arm that ever so slightly tightened before letting him go, image of her watching the sun set into the ocean before it blinks out of existence, and he finds himself nodding. "I will."
He hangs up and hails a cab to the harbor. There's a congestion and the drive is taking forever, enough so that two blocks away from his destination he chucks a wad of bills on the passenger seat with an apology and jogs the rest of the way. He's definitely taking the train on his way back.
When Kiryu finally arrives at the docks, he's out of breath and, as it seems, out of luck as well. The loading area is deserted, all hard concrete and steel containers. He walks over to the water's edge, to the same spot where he had left Majima for dead not that long ago. Naturally, he isn't there.
Kiryu shakes his head. He can't let his past mistakes burden him now.
On the periphery of his vision he registers a movement - it's all the way down along the bay where the shipping facilities make room for the occasional pedestrian and the waterfront is blocked off by a thin corroded railing. There is a figure leaning on it, short jacket, shorter skirt, legs up to here, and a halo of blond hair flickering in the breeze. Kiryu stops dead in his tracks, and then breaks into a run.
When he emerges on the other side of the dock, there is no mistaking it - the party dress may have given way to a charcoal puffer jacket and a high-waisted glossy miniskirt the color of fresh ink, the vertigo-inducing hot pink pumps to a pair of marginally less extravagant ankle straps that match the rest of the ensemble, but the lines of black and white whirlpools and red cherry blossoms adorning the skin of her bare legs leave no room for doubt.
"Goromi."
Slowly, she turns around. The only piece of clothing she wears under the jacket is also the only splash of pink on her - a fine mesh bubblegum bra - and her lips are painted a deep matte red. Her gaze is obscured by vintage-looking aviators and Kiryu realizes she is not wearing an eyepatch.
She has also shaved. No wonder she gave Nishida the slip.
"Kiryu-chan," she says, tone neutral, flat, so terrifyingly unlike her.
And because Kiryu has always been better with actions than words, he crowds her against the railing and kisses her.
Goromi freezes. Then she slaps his shoulder with one hand while at the same time grabs him by his nape with the other, her body high-strung like a bow and wriggling in his arms. Kiryu splays his hand on the small of her back and tips her backwards so the loss of balance makes her cling to him, deepens the kiss despite the frame of her sunglasses painfully digging into his face. She sighs into his mouth, and he feels the tension leave her with every nip of her teeth, every swipe of her tongue, every breath she takes and exhales against his skin.
When Kiryu pulls away she's a mess and he doesn't even want to imagine what he must look like with her lipstick smeared all over. "Kiryu-chan, what the fuck?" she says while righting her sunglasses. Behind the words, he can hear some of that familiar spark back.
"I," he starts, but has no idea what to say. He takes a step back to give her some space, but keeps his hands on her waist, thumbs playing with the edge of the skirt. "I heard you were missing."
Whatever advance he may have made disappeared. "Did Nishida put you up to this?" she demands, her voice edging dangerously close to Majima's when he's about to run him through.
"Not particularly this, but yeah. You made everyone worried."
"That little-" she growls and tries to leave, but Kiryu isn't ready to let her go. "Get off!" She shouts and slams her palms into his chest.
"Goromi-"
"Just leave me the fuck alone! It's not like you care," she accuses and tries to kick him in the groin.
Kiryu narrowly avoids it and does his best to restrain her. "Why wouldn't I care? You made me worried, too."
Goromi is crumpling his shirt in her attempt to push him away and the struggle is making her breathless. "You care just because somebody else told you to, like with everything else. Now fuck out of the town already."
That does it. Kiryu grabs one of her wrists and twists her hand outward, causing her to let go of his shirt and yelp in pain. He outstretches it as far as it will go and uses the distraction to trap her other arm between their bodies and forces her into a crushing embrace. It looks like a corrupted form of a ballroom dancing stance. They're too close to each other for Goromi to try and kick him again and when she makes an attempt to escape, he increases the strain on her wrist with the long practiced precision of a street fighter. "That what it is all about? Me leaving the Tojo?"
"Fuck off."
"I'm sorry I upset you. I didn't intend to."
"Fuck off!" Her voice is cracking as the words fall apart.
Kiryu hates that he's the one bringing this out of her. "If you said something - anything - I would have come sooner. You know I would."
Her breathing becomes hitched, irregular, and her body stops resisting. "You're supposed to know that! Of course I feel like shit when you announce you're packing up shop and skipping town. Are you for real?! Of course I- I will," she stammers, chokes, and gives up. "Fuck. Of course I'll miss you."
She has a point.
Kiryu lets go of her hand, eases his hold and wraps her in an altogether different kind of hug, gentle and solid and leaving her arms free for her to decide whether she wants to accept it. He caresses the bare skin of her flanks and nuzzles her neck, that intoxicating scent he remembers from their night out overcoming his senses, and he doesn't care for a thing in the world - if Goromi decides to beat him up after this, he'll let her until he's a swollen, bloody pulp on the pavement, but for the time being, there's only her, the sunset, and the quiet hum of the sea.
He feels her raise her arms and settle them around his shoulders. "Kiryu-chan?"
"Yes?"
"I hate you," she confesses and pulls him by the hair to kiss him. She is sloppy with emotion, clicking their teeth on more than one occasion, then she quite literally mauls his face with her open mouth and bites a trail from his chin to his throat. She reaches the soft patch of skin above his clavicle and pinches it between her teeth, sucks on it hard enough to make a bruise and Kiryu sees stars. "That's for the bullshit excuse. And this-" she presses a noisy kiss to his cheek, "is for coming," she concludes and draws back to scrutinize her work.
Kiryu feels his face heat up and Goromi giggles.
"Ya look like a real ladies' man now, with the lipstick and all."
He laughs. "And you look like a hot mess."
"Well, well - I let ya out of my sight for a couple days, and ya come back at me with sass. Have ya been practicing with someone?"
He slides his hands from her waist to the firm muscle of her ass. "Only you."
Goromi bites her lip and Kiryu would give anything to see her without the barrier of the sunglasses. "Want to take this to my place?" she asks, her fingers lightly kneading the back of his neck.
There's only one possible answer. "Yes."
"Better make yerself presentable then," she says and pats his cheek, "wouldn't want to scare the cabbie."
"Actually, let's catch a train."
"Cheaping out on me?"
"The roads are all clogged."
Goromi huffs, then steps out of his reach and starts digging around her pockets. Kiryu pulls pocket tissues out of his own and offers them to her when she comes up empty-handed. He scrubs at his face to the point his skin feels raw and hopes for the best; when he stuffs the stained handkerchief in his suit Goromi daps hers with the tip of her tongue and wipes the corner of his mouth. "Missed a spot, stud," she says and pulls him by the waist to the direction of the station.
They sit glued to each other on the train while the city is sliding past behind the wide windows. Although it's the beginning of the rush hour the other passengers are giving them a wide berth, glancing in their direction only when Goromi powers on her phone and it goes off with a cacophonic series of pings announcing the presence of all the accumulated missed calls and unread messages. She fumbles for the mute button and starts typing a text - this time around while typing, her nails don't make a sound as they are clipped short and their only adornment is chipped black nail polish that Kiryu realizes has to be a touch of Majima's unrefined taste in Goromi's eye-catching glam and, somehow, that endears her to him even more. He noses at her fringe and presses his lips to her temple.
It amuses her. "In a public place? Kiryu-chan, ya deviant."
He draws back and catches the body of the message before she hits send - with Kiryu-chan GTFO of my apartment.
Kiryu hopes Nishida will read it before they get there, more out of concern for the man's safety than any possible awkwardness that could ensue.
Finally their stop comes up and Goromi leads him out on the platform. She leans into him when they are riding down the escalators and from that moment forth, each second of their walk to Goromi's place is, in Kiryu's reckoning, longer than eternity. When she finally stops at a lofty apartment building, he summons the remnants of his patience to get him through the elevator ride to the penthouse and through the five seconds he needs to take his shoes off once Goromi has locked the door behind them.
She manages to take only one of hers off before Kiryu sweeps her up, bridal-style. He expects her to tease him, but she doesn't. Instead, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and kisses him, throwing Kiryu off balance so he doesn't quite fit them through the doorway and bumps into its frame.
Goromi makes a sound of annoyance and draws back. "Ouch," she draws the word out until it is oozing camp.
"Sorry," he says, embarrassed, and focuses on getting them to the bedroom in one piece.
It looks like the apartment has indeed been thoroughly lived in recently - the kitchen sink is stacked with coffee mugs and bowls, Majima's clothes litter the living room and the air is stale with old cigarette smoke and a faint trace of body odor. The blinds of the bedroom are drawn and the king size bed is unmade. Kiryu lowers her down on it, sits on its edge and starts unbuckling the strap of her remaining shoe. He's holding her by the ankle and, once it clatters to the floor, slides his other hand to the sole of her foot, gently squeezing her arch.
Goromi gasps and shudders, jerking her foot in his grip. "Tickles," she squeaks in a way of explanation.
"Is that so?" he teases and pulls her toes one at a time until they pop.
She jabs him in the ribs with her free leg, but not too hard and doesn't protest otherwise. When Kiryu lets her go she relaxes into the pillow in anticipation, but instead of indulging her, he gets up and walks over to the window. "Oi, what's the big idea?" she says, propping herself on her elbows when he undoes all of the blinds so the golden glow of the setting sun fills the room.
Kiryu finishes by cracking the window open. "I want to see you," he says simply, pulling off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.
Goromi is staring at him undressing, gulps when he shucks the shirt off and stalks to her top naked, sinks back to the mattress as he joins her on the bed and looms over her. With the sunlight streaming in he can make out her good eye behind the sunglasses, blown wide and eyelashes fluttering, and she blushes a sweet pink. He ducks in to taste her mouth, hands pulling at her puffer jacket and Goromi shimmies out of it, raises herself up enough for him to discard it on the floor.
That next to nothing bra she is wearing looks ridiculously good pulled taut over her tattooed breasts. Kiryu runs his hands over the fine material, traces the outlines of the cherry blossom petals and the snake's forked tongue, the black currents of violent rapids and feels her nipples harden in response. He descends on one with his mouth, the mesh fabric sandpaper-coarse against his tongue, and sucks it.
Goromi grabs a fistful of his hair and curses.
He works his way down her rock-solid abs, fingers searching blindly for a fastening of her skirt until he finds a zipper on its left side and tugs on it. Sitting back, Kiryu pulls the piece down, revealing Goromi's washboard stomach in all its glory and panties from the same pink mesh as her bra that leave little room for imagination. His jaw goes slack, then he remembers himself and slides the skirt all the way down her impossibly long legs.
"May I?" he asks her and taps the frame of her sunglasses.
She squirms a little, but nods. "It ain't exactly pretty," she mumbles, although she doesn't stop him when he gently removes the aviators and sets them on the bedside table. She rolls her head to hide the damaged side of her face into the pillow.
"Goromi," Kiryu pleads and cups her face. "Look at me."
It takes some time, but eventually, Goromi turns around to face him, eyes closed, then opens the one that still possesses that function and meets his gaze. She's wearing minimal make-up, only a hint of eyeliner darkening her twitching eyelids, and a small scar as a twisted kind of embellishment on the ones that are sunken and remain closed forever. It doesn't look as bad as she made it seem, and there is a cute little beauty spot below on the pale skin that is usually concealed by the eyepatch. Kiryu wonders if she'd tell him the story, one of these days - for some reason, he feels like she'd be more willing to share than Majima.
"You're beautiful," he says with his heart in it.
She whines a little, a tiny sound caught in the back of her throat. "Kiryu-chan."
"Kazuma," he corrects her, thumbs caressing her cheeks. "Call me Kazuma."
"Kazuma," Goromi repeats after him, and it's like an incantation that spurs him into action. He kisses her with abandon, mouth devouring and hands greedy, tearing at her flesh as if he could keep a piece of her to himself as a keepsake. She has enthusiasm to match his own, her nails scratching the inked skin of his back one second and her palms cupping his pecs the next. She arches her back with a moan when Kiryu hooks his thumb under the band of her bra and rumples it upward to expose her chest, calls him a number of things from ‘darling’ to a ‘tease’ when he's playing with it, snakes one hand between them to rub at his crotch through his pants. "You're a big boy, ain'tcha?" she croons and squeezes.
Kiryu groans. "Don't be weird."
"No wonder they call ya the Dragon of-"
"Goromi!"
She's choking on her laughter, eye twinkling and struggling to keep her mouth shut.
"You're a menace," he tells her and pins her hands over her head.
Her giggling dissipates into a lop-sided smile. "Yer so hot when ya get cross with me."
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"
She plays dirty as her demeanor changes from mischievous to shy. "Kazuma," she breathes out and Kiryu can't be annoyed, not when she utters his name like that, and he lets her go. She runs her knuckles down his throat and chest as if in apology and stretches to open a drawer of the bedside cabinet. Inside, Kiryu can make out at least three boxes of condoms and several bottles of lube.
While it's not his place to judge, the idea of Goromi frequenting this drawer in his absence doesn't sit well with him, and the misdirected resentment compels him to bite and suck her neck until she squeals.
"That's gonna leave a mark," she tells him and drops a bottle with a handful of packets on the bed.
Kiryu nuzzles the tender skin and licks over the bruise once. "Sorry."
"I ain't complaining." She ruffles his hair and hooks one leg over his. "I like when yer so passionate. When ya get serious and get this murder look and kick me hard enough to send me flying through a shop window."
Kiryu isn't at all put off by this sudden merging of her with Majima. "That happened once," he says, hand sliding low to cup her through her panties. She's pulsing under his palm and the fabric is damp with her arousal.
Goromi bucks her hips and digs her nails into his shoulder. "Kiryu-chan- Kazuma," she corrects herself, out of breath.
"Yes?"
"Get on with it."
Kiryu obeys. He kisses her one last time before he sits back on his haunches and pulls her panties off. If she was a hot mess in the harbor, now she is the human equivalent of a red light district on a night of a police raid; her hair is haphazardly strewn over the pillow, her bra is askew above her nipples and squeezing the flesh to form a shallow indentation vaguely reminiscent of a cleavage, the long line of her torso is rising and falling with each breath she takes and her cock is leaking on her abdomen. She doesn't quite seem to know where to put her hands, bent at the elbows and hovering at her shoulders, and ends up settling them on her chest. When Kiryu parts her legs, she reaches behind her to grab onto the pillow, and when he lifts one smooth-shaven limb to prop on his shoulder, her grip turns her knuckles white. "Comfortable?" he asks with her knees on either side of his head.
"Who are ya and what did ya do to Kiryu-chan?" she demands. "Ya blushed at the smallest things I was convinced ya were a virgin."
Kiryu caresses her thigh and reaches for the bottle of lube. "I've been around a few times," he says and squirts some on his hand.
"Holy shit. Ya just cost me fifty thousand yen and a day at the spa for my boys."
"What?"
Goromi looks as ashamed as she probably can get, which, admittedly, is not much. "Sorta made a bet."
Kiryu grimaces. "And you bet against me?"
"I'm profoundly sorry I misjudged your ability to get laid," she says and doesn't sound sorry at all.
Forgetting himself, Kiryu slaps her on her ass, the lube on his hand enhancing the loud 'smack!' and sticking to her skin. Goromi makes a sound between a yelp and a moan because of course she is into it and Kiryu mentally kicks himself for not accounting for that. "You're the absolute worst," he tells her while groping blindly for the bottle of lube to replace the amount he just wasted.
"Baby, tell me something I don't know," she purrs and Kiryu warms back up to her the instant she calls him 'baby'. Then she shudders when his fingers trace her hole and lather it with lube; Kiryu tests the tension, the snug knot of muscle, and presses the tip of his index finger inside. "I can take it," she coaxes him and whines a little when he pulls it nearly out and back in in a shallow thrust.
"Are you sure?" he stalls and enjoys the way she squirms in an attempt to get more friction.
"Fuck yeah I'm sure, weren't ya supposed to be a gentleman? Golden rule - don't leave a girl hangin' and have yer way with her."
Kiryu withdraws and unbuckles his belt, pulls his pants down just enough to free himself and tears open a condom wrapper with his teeth. "I will," he says, rolling the condom down his length and adding a bit more lube just to be on the safe side of things, "I want to make love to you, and nothing you could say will stop me."
Her knees close in a little so they knock into his skull as he aligns himself against her opening. "Kazuma," Goromi whispers, and throws her head back when he pushes inside her, just barely past the head of his cock. Her breath hitches and her blush spreads from her face to her chest and Kiryu has to bite his tongue to distract himself from the sight. He gives her time to adjust, bucks his hips only enough to help her muscles relax and she cusses at him when he ignores her goading to move faster, harder, deeper. Her legs tighten around him to gain leverage and she tries to provoke him with her body when she can't do it with her words.
Kiryu grabs her by the hips and holds her still. "Goromi," he reprimands her gently and takes some of her edge off with a slow, lazy thrust.
"Ya really meant it?"
He eases almost all the way in. "I did."
She screws her eye shut and rubs it on the pillow. A dark smudge of eyeliner remains there when her head lolls the other way. "Fuck," is the last thing she says before giving up and accepting this new reality, one that Kiryu offers with tender touch and selflessness she may not have wanted but was what she needed. He takes his time, steadily builds his rhythm until his hair is sticking to his forehead and Goromi is loose and pliant under him. The sunlight catches on her hair and sparkles on her glowing skin and he bends down to kiss the shadows that dance around her open mouth in time with her moans; she's flexible enough that her knees almost touch the bedsheets and it makes Kiryu a little dizzy, how well she takes the strain he's putting her under and how loudly she kisses him back. One of her hands grips him by his nape and doesn't let go even when they break the kiss to gasp for air.
He licks the smooth edge of her jawline up to her soft earlobe and Goromi keens. "You're beautiful," he whispers into her ear the second time that night and pinches it with his teeth. Her nails dig into his neck and he can feel her wedging her other arm in the narrow space between them to touch herself, and from there it takes just a few snaps of his hips and a sloppy French kiss before Goromi tenses up and clenches down on him so hard he loses it too.
Kiryu lets her go only when he feels himself softening; he extricates himself from the tangle of her limbs and sets off to dispose of the condom, almost trips on his half-undressed and completely forgotten trousers before he takes them off the whole way and leaves Goromi sprawled on the bed and dead to the world. The last rays of the setting sun falling diagonally on the bed make her look like a cat on a summer rooftop and Kiryu feels proud that it was him who had made her that way, blissed out and content. In the kitchen he washes his hands in the little room the overwhelmed sink allows and pours a glass of water, drinks it down in three gulps and refills it.
In the meantime, Goromi has returned to the land of the living, sitting on the bed and dropping the flimsy bra on the floor. "Here," Kiryu says and offers her the glass.
She startles a little, as if she did not expect him to return, but accepts it. He settles behind her and wraps his arms around her impossibly slim waist. "Ya don't have to be so delicate with me," she says as he pulls her flush to his chest. "'S not like I'm gonna break."
Kiryu kisses the bare skin just above the hem of her tattoo. The texture is different there, and when he looks closer, he can make out a constellation of old, faded scars. "I don't do it because of that."
She tilts her head back as she drinks from her glass. "Why then," she says drily, and Kiryu is certain it is Majima asking through her what he himself won't.
And so Kiryu answers in what he knows best - the truth. "Because I respect you."
For a moment she sits still, as if the creeping nightfall cast a spell on her. Then she heaves a sigh, sets the glass of water on the nightstand and half turns in his arms to hug him. He can feel her heart hammering at the confines of her ribcage like an animal breaking free of its cage.
Kiryu pulls her down with him, manhandles her so she is lying on top of him on her side, one hand drawing lazy circles on his chest and one leg draped over his. Her wig has shifted during their descent and it lies loose an inch from her scalp and tickling Kiryu's shoulder. Majima's jet black hair is spilling out from under it, but Kiryu doesn't care to point it out and Goromi doesn't bother to fix it. He squeezes her around her shoulders and kisses her clammy forehead.
"Yer leaving when?" she asks after dusk gives way to darkness.
"Friday."
Her arms tighten around him, just enough to convey the feeling. "Ya know, she's lucky to have you."
Kiryu thinks about Haruka back at Serena, on her own and waiting for him. He will have to go soon. "I don't know about that."
"Always so modest - give yourself a little credit. Not everyone would do what you did."
Kiryu wants to, he really does, but the guilt he feels when he thinks of that night on the tower threatens to choke him.
Somehow, Goromi is able to sense it. She rises on her elbows to look him in the eye, her expression made softer by the dim light. The distant sounds of the city trickle in through the open window - a rattle of a train, the low hum of milling crowds, and a gentle wail of a siren above it all. Her wig has given up and tumbled off her head. "You're gonna be a great dad. I just know it," she says, cupping his cheek.
Like this, when he's holding her and doesn't think about it, Kiryu allows himself to believe it. “Goromi?”
“Yes, Kazuma?”
“I may be leaving, but I’ll always have time for you.”
Goromi smiles with teeth and bites the tip of his nose. “Like I’d ever let you go.”