Majima Nowhere
Apr. 24th, 2021 11:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerguess what led to me writing about migraines again
email's not wrong--most Japanese people use email on their phones rather than texting
i made a terrible mistake not naming this Majima Nowhere and am correcting that error immediately
Main Points:
Yakuza
Summary: Kiryu's worried about Majima, so he checks up on him.
Word Count: 1044
Rating: Teen
mild spoilers for Kiwami but very vague
Warning: migraine including mild descriptions of symptoms
Kiryu gets his first taste of what Nishida had been warning him about when he turns on the light. There’s an immediate screech in response, and a knife flies out of nowhere and buries itself, shaking, in the wall. Over his confusing period of getting to know the man, he’s heard Majima screech in a lot of different situations, and this particular sound is…new. Desperate, maybe. He’s not sure how to describe it.
“Majima no niisan? I was worried, so I came.” Maybe he’s a fool for worrying about a man who’s tried probably earnestly to kill him. At least wound him, for sure. But that’s just the sort of man he is.
“Kiryu-chan? The hell ya doin’ here?” The voice is weak, weaker than Kiryu’s ever heard it, which strengthens his resolve. He wasn’t wrong to come.
“You hadn’t ambushed me today, so I thought you might be planning something and emailed Nishida. He told me not to bother you, but he didn’t say that like he normally says that.”
“An’ so ya came anyhow. All this trainin’, an’ ya still have all the sense of a block ‘a wood.” The tone is…disappointed but fond? It definitely lacks the usual sing-song.
Kiryu ignores that. Majima-niisan isn’t the first to have said that and probably won’t be the last. “Is there something you need?”
The laugh is a bit hysterical, but the older yakuza definitely looks like a bit of a wreck as Kiryu dares come closer. “Suppose ya ain’t the type ta bite my belly, if I bare it all.” That seems a bit off-topic, and Kiryu frowns, but Majima waves it off wearily. “Lights off.”
Kiryu immediately does as asked, getting an idea of what’s wrong. “Hangover?” he asks sympathetically.
“Migraine, but principle’s the same.” Kiryu absorbs the fact. He’s never experienced one himself, but the comparison of a headache that could lead to moments like the ones he spent—with Nishiki. And he quickly shoves away the pang of regret, because while he can’t help Nishiki now—and how frustrating a situation that is!—he can help Majima-niisan. The patriarch has been looking after him this whole time, in his own way.
“This how ya plannin’ on lookin’ after the tyke?” Majima’s amused, not threatening, but Kiryu growls anyway, and the older yakuza throws his hands up in surrender. It’s only then that the sight strikes Kiryu as extremely odd. He’s not wearing his signature gloves. “Bite my tongue off fer havin’ her name in my mouth, sure. The policy’s hands-off fer now on.”
From what Kiryu had been told (and, to be fair, Haruka hadn’t said much of anything) Majima-niisan had been relatively kind when he’d kidnapped her. The ropes had been relatively loose, not enough to cut off her circulation, and he’d even bought her a meal from Smile Burger complete with a toy (though he’d seemed scarily disappointed she had no appetite, which hadn’t helped matters). She was scared of the man, but she’d also seemed worried about him. He usually tried to be nice to women or kid civilians he ran into on the street (well, as nice as he’s capable of, anyway), so it’s really possible he just didn’t realize how far over the line he’d crossed.
He’ll give Majima-niisan another chance, because he’s pretty sure Haruka was right about that, too. The older yakuza needs help.
“Is there anything else I can do?” he asks quietly, realizing that a loud voice will probably make it worse, if Majima said that comparing it to a hangover wasn’t probably too far off.
Majima groans, but begins speaking shortly. “Don’t wanna move, but ya don’t wanna leave me lyin’ here, do ya?” It’s worryingly simple to lift the man and he privately resolves to make sure Majima eats when he can keep something down. The patriarch chokes slightly, probably not expecting him to just go ahead and do it, but Kiryu’s not one to wait when a path of action has been placed before him. He deposits the man carefully on a couch he can barely make out in the dark.
“I assume you’re not hungry.” Sometimes Nishiki wouldn’t have nagged him into matching drink for drink and he’d look after his friend. It’s weirdly nostalgic.
The theatrical gagging noise assures him the Mad Dog is still in there, somewhere. He smiles just slightly.
“Well, that can wait.” Right. “Do you need a painkiller?”
Majima mutters something into the couch before replying, lifting his head just slightly. “Might cough it up all over ya, Kiryu-chan.” The slightest lilt in his voice, but more than anything he’s just tired, which—Kiryu can relate.
“It’ll be good to learn how, if—if I have to end up looking after Haruka.” That’s definitely a sound of surprise, but Kiryu retreats. He’s not sure why he brought her up again, after silently warning Majima not to do so, and in any case he doesn’t want to let the patriarch continue to suffer.
That’s also a whimper of pain, quiet but present, when Kiryu returns. Majima takes the painkiller and water silently, gulping it down.
“My eyepatch.” He sounds concerned, and for good reason. This is huge, and Kiryu can’t mess it up. He complies, quick and efficient, depositing it on what feels like a table next to the couch. Majima sighs. It’s probably a lot more comfortable now.
“Ya ever use those big hands’a yers fer anythin’ other’n pastin’ men?” he mutters, yawning, and Kiryu frowns again, although he’s pretty sure Majima can’t see.
“I don’t understand.” He decides to sit next to the couch, refraining from the urge to smoke because he vaguely remembers that making a hangover worse once.
“Massage. Might be in the land’a the sex trade, but it ain’t always given by pretty ladies.” From the sound of it, he’s falling asleep.
“I can always try.” He’s worked kinks out of his own muscles sometimes after a fight; how hard can it be to do it to someone else? He interrupts Majima’s attempt at saying something by reaching out and hesitantly digging his fingers into the patriarch’s tight neck muscles, and the man makes a wordless noise of approval and sinks into the couch like a boneless cat.
email's not wrong--most Japanese people use email on their phones rather than texting
i made a terrible mistake not naming this Majima Nowhere and am correcting that error immediately
Main Points:
Yakuza
Summary: Kiryu's worried about Majima, so he checks up on him.
Word Count: 1044
Rating: Teen
mild spoilers for Kiwami but very vague
Warning: migraine including mild descriptions of symptoms
Kiryu gets his first taste of what Nishida had been warning him about when he turns on the light. There’s an immediate screech in response, and a knife flies out of nowhere and buries itself, shaking, in the wall. Over his confusing period of getting to know the man, he’s heard Majima screech in a lot of different situations, and this particular sound is…new. Desperate, maybe. He’s not sure how to describe it.
“Majima no niisan? I was worried, so I came.” Maybe he’s a fool for worrying about a man who’s tried probably earnestly to kill him. At least wound him, for sure. But that’s just the sort of man he is.
“Kiryu-chan? The hell ya doin’ here?” The voice is weak, weaker than Kiryu’s ever heard it, which strengthens his resolve. He wasn’t wrong to come.
“You hadn’t ambushed me today, so I thought you might be planning something and emailed Nishida. He told me not to bother you, but he didn’t say that like he normally says that.”
“An’ so ya came anyhow. All this trainin’, an’ ya still have all the sense of a block ‘a wood.” The tone is…disappointed but fond? It definitely lacks the usual sing-song.
Kiryu ignores that. Majima-niisan isn’t the first to have said that and probably won’t be the last. “Is there something you need?”
The laugh is a bit hysterical, but the older yakuza definitely looks like a bit of a wreck as Kiryu dares come closer. “Suppose ya ain’t the type ta bite my belly, if I bare it all.” That seems a bit off-topic, and Kiryu frowns, but Majima waves it off wearily. “Lights off.”
Kiryu immediately does as asked, getting an idea of what’s wrong. “Hangover?” he asks sympathetically.
“Migraine, but principle’s the same.” Kiryu absorbs the fact. He’s never experienced one himself, but the comparison of a headache that could lead to moments like the ones he spent—with Nishiki. And he quickly shoves away the pang of regret, because while he can’t help Nishiki now—and how frustrating a situation that is!—he can help Majima-niisan. The patriarch has been looking after him this whole time, in his own way.
“This how ya plannin’ on lookin’ after the tyke?” Majima’s amused, not threatening, but Kiryu growls anyway, and the older yakuza throws his hands up in surrender. It’s only then that the sight strikes Kiryu as extremely odd. He’s not wearing his signature gloves. “Bite my tongue off fer havin’ her name in my mouth, sure. The policy’s hands-off fer now on.”
From what Kiryu had been told (and, to be fair, Haruka hadn’t said much of anything) Majima-niisan had been relatively kind when he’d kidnapped her. The ropes had been relatively loose, not enough to cut off her circulation, and he’d even bought her a meal from Smile Burger complete with a toy (though he’d seemed scarily disappointed she had no appetite, which hadn’t helped matters). She was scared of the man, but she’d also seemed worried about him. He usually tried to be nice to women or kid civilians he ran into on the street (well, as nice as he’s capable of, anyway), so it’s really possible he just didn’t realize how far over the line he’d crossed.
He’ll give Majima-niisan another chance, because he’s pretty sure Haruka was right about that, too. The older yakuza needs help.
“Is there anything else I can do?” he asks quietly, realizing that a loud voice will probably make it worse, if Majima said that comparing it to a hangover wasn’t probably too far off.
Majima groans, but begins speaking shortly. “Don’t wanna move, but ya don’t wanna leave me lyin’ here, do ya?” It’s worryingly simple to lift the man and he privately resolves to make sure Majima eats when he can keep something down. The patriarch chokes slightly, probably not expecting him to just go ahead and do it, but Kiryu’s not one to wait when a path of action has been placed before him. He deposits the man carefully on a couch he can barely make out in the dark.
“I assume you’re not hungry.” Sometimes Nishiki wouldn’t have nagged him into matching drink for drink and he’d look after his friend. It’s weirdly nostalgic.
The theatrical gagging noise assures him the Mad Dog is still in there, somewhere. He smiles just slightly.
“Well, that can wait.” Right. “Do you need a painkiller?”
Majima mutters something into the couch before replying, lifting his head just slightly. “Might cough it up all over ya, Kiryu-chan.” The slightest lilt in his voice, but more than anything he’s just tired, which—Kiryu can relate.
“It’ll be good to learn how, if—if I have to end up looking after Haruka.” That’s definitely a sound of surprise, but Kiryu retreats. He’s not sure why he brought her up again, after silently warning Majima not to do so, and in any case he doesn’t want to let the patriarch continue to suffer.
That’s also a whimper of pain, quiet but present, when Kiryu returns. Majima takes the painkiller and water silently, gulping it down.
“My eyepatch.” He sounds concerned, and for good reason. This is huge, and Kiryu can’t mess it up. He complies, quick and efficient, depositing it on what feels like a table next to the couch. Majima sighs. It’s probably a lot more comfortable now.
“Ya ever use those big hands’a yers fer anythin’ other’n pastin’ men?” he mutters, yawning, and Kiryu frowns again, although he’s pretty sure Majima can’t see.
“I don’t understand.” He decides to sit next to the couch, refraining from the urge to smoke because he vaguely remembers that making a hangover worse once.
“Massage. Might be in the land’a the sex trade, but it ain’t always given by pretty ladies.” From the sound of it, he’s falling asleep.
“I can always try.” He’s worked kinks out of his own muscles sometimes after a fight; how hard can it be to do it to someone else? He interrupts Majima’s attempt at saying something by reaching out and hesitantly digging his fingers into the patriarch’s tight neck muscles, and the man makes a wordless noise of approval and sinks into the couch like a boneless cat.
