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yuujispinkhair · 2 months ago

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ILLICIT AFFAIRS

You show me colors I can't see with anyone else

You are stuck in an unhappy marriage, not brave enough to leave your cheating husband. Until you meet Sukuna.

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Word Count: 10k Warnings: 18+, fluff, hurt/comfort, smut, but not explicit, cheating (Reader's husband cheats on her, and later on, she cheats on him with Sukuna). Sukuna is a CEO (or can be read as a Yakuza boss, too). Sukuna + Reader are both in their thirties. The fic title is taken from Taylor Swift's "Illicit Affairs", but in this story, the secret affair has a happy ending. This story is super self-indulgent, but I hope some of my fellow Sukuna lovers will enjoy it, too! Minors don't interact. Divider @./lovwoung

You often ask yourself what went wrong. How did you end up trapped in this unhappy marriage? Maybe you were too young, too inexperienced, too naive when you met your husband. Maybe you were too insecure, convinced no one would ever want you, and so you gratefully settled for the first man who showed interest in dating you.

Your relationship was never like those romances you knew from books or movies, but you assumed that was just how things were in reality. Your mom, your aunt, and everyone else told you how lucky you were to have finally found a man willing to be with you. How lucky to have found someone with a good job and from a good family. They were also the ones who pressured the two of you to get married, and ever since then, things have gone downhill.

Your husband hasn't shown you any love or affection in years. The only time he shows interest in you is when he wants to have sex, but even that is without any real intimacy. He hasn't kissed you in years, and if he did at this point, you would probably be disgusted by it. There is no love in this marriage.

The worst thing is you know he is cheating on you. You already suspected it when he suddenly had to stay at work a lot longer than usual and when he began to hide his phone screen from you. And then one night, you woke up and walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water, and that's when you overheard your husband talking on the phone with some other woman calling her angel and baby and telling her how beautiful she was.

Even though you didn't love him anymore, it still made your world tumble down around you.

You want to leave him, but you can't. Everything is too much, too overwhelming. You have always found it very hard to make decisions, and this one is huge. You have no idea where to go or how to get by on your own. All your savings went into buying this apartment, and now what?

And it's not just the financial aspect that worries you. Everyone has always told you that you would never survive on your own. They always kept you small, turning you into someone who is dependent on others. You got told that you are weird, not good enough, and incapable of ever taking control of your life. And at some point over the years, you started to believe that. Your self-confidence is non-existent.

You tell your mom about the cheating, and she tells you to stay with your husband.

"It's just a little fling. At least you are lucky that he doesn't want to divorce you. It would be such a financial disaster, and you know how you are. You don't do well on your own. Just stay with him and find joy in other things. Maybe pick up a new hobby. I could give you Kira's number. She just joined a nice Yoga class!"

You don't go to the Yoga class, but you also don't leave your husband. You try to pretend everything is fine. Try to gaslight yourself into thinking that maybe you are really just a hysterical, insecure, and overjealous idiot who misinterpreted things.

The months pass, and you catch him flirting on the phone several times. An annual business event is scheduled, which you always accompany him to, but he tells you it got canceled this year. Only to find out from the wife of one of his coworkers that the event took place as usual, but you and your husband simply never showed up. You know why. He didn't want you there. He didn't want to risk his little affair and his wife running into each other.

You've given up on love by now. You hate seeing ads for romance novels or rom-coms. You stop listening to music because most songs are lovesongs. For all you know, romantic love is just a made-up thing that people sing about and write about, but it's all just lies.

Or maybe it does exist in real life. But not for you. Maybe you simply aren't the type of woman who deserves to be loved. Maybe your mom is right, and you should just accept it.

So you stay with your husband, but you are dead inside.

Until you meet Sukuna.

He is everything you ever dreamed about in your secret fantasies that you started to develop to comfort yourself. A dreamed life, but now it's right in front of you, close enough to touch. Sukuna is a real gentleman. An attractive mix of a bad boy and a successful, serious businessman. Smart, confident, and sexy, with a boyish playfulness beneath his professional appearance.

Ironically, you meet him the night you try to save your marriage.

You are already sitting at the table for two you booked for a date in one of the best restaurants in the city. You put on makeup and spend an hour picking a dress in which you feel at least half attractive. And now you sit here, sipping your red wine, waiting for your husband to arrive, to hopefully bond with him again over a delicious dinner and a few hours where you can talk and maybe laugh together.

Only that your husband never shows up. You have already finished your first glass of wine and received several pitiful looks from the waitress when your phone buzzes with a message. It's your husband telling you he can't make it. "Something has come up at work. I don't know when I will be able to leave. Just have dinner without me."

You stare at the message for far too long, not even knowing how to respond. Feeling utterly humiliated, utterly hurt, and abandoned. Worthless. You know he is going to see his girlfriend instead tonight. His girlfriend, who is young and sexy, and can give him what he wants.

And suddenly, you can't hold back the tears anymore. You blink hastily, wiping angrily at your cheeks, trying everything not to ruin your makeup or have a breakdown in the middle of the crowded restaurant. But the waitress chooses that exact moment to walk up to you with an overly bright smile, asking,

"Excuse me, Madam. Would it be alright if someone joins you at your table?"

You look at her, caught off guard, really not wanting a stranger at your table in this horrid moment, but you are too polite to say no, and so you smile weakly back at her, pressing out in a tear-thick voice,

"Of course, I don't mind."

You wipe your eyes again, trying to will the tears away, as a tall man in a fancy-looking black suit and slicked-back pink hair comes into view. He is snapping at the waitress, clearly annoyed, saying something about how rude it is to forget his reservation and that this will have consequences since he is a regular customer, etc.

But he sits down across from you, still fuming as the waitress bows deeply several times, apologizing profusely for the mistake, promising that the man's food and drinks will be free tonight.

He lets out an exasperated sigh and orders a glass of red wine, which the waitress immediately scrambles to get for him.

You gulp hard, trying to regain composure, hoping you don't look as forlorn as you feel. You lift your head to nod at the man across from you, trying to muster up a polite smile because, after all, you have been trained from a young age to always be friendly.

You take him in and draw in a surprised breath. He is gorgeous. The most attractive man you have ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered with masculine but beautiful features. Angular jawline, intelligent maroon eyes, and sensual lips that are lifted in a smug smirk as he nods back at you,

"Excuse this inconvenience. I will make sure whoever is responsible will get fired."

And, of course, you splutter and are quick to try doing damage control, not wanting some poor person to lose their job over this.

"Oh no, please, it's no problem at all!"

The pink-haired man laughs softly, a low, husky sound that makes your pulse flutter nervously.

He looks intimidating with his tall height and muscular build, and the tattoos that line his handsome face. But he is distinguished and elegant, wearing a designer suit and an expensive watch. Clearly, he is a regular guest of a restaurant like this.

He looks like a successful CEO (or a Yakuza boss, your mind provides not helpful at all). He's definitely someone in a powerful position, judging by his whole appearance and the dominant and confident aura he exudes. But he also has pastel pink hair, a boyish grin, and a playful attitude that makes him seem not as scary as you first thought.

His wine arrives from a different waitress, and he thanks her politely, telling her,

"Put everything the lovely lady across from me orders on my card."

The waitress is quick to bow deeply with a polite, "Of course, Mr. Itadori," at the same moment, as your eyes widen, and you quickly argue,

"Oh no, please, I can't..."

But he smirks his charming smirk and lifts a large hand dismissively,

"It's the least I can do for ruining your evening in much-wanted solitude."

Much wanted solitude.

His words hit you to the core, making all the sadness well up in you again. If only it were true. If only you were truly a single, independent woman who came here after a successful day at work to enjoy dinner on her own in voluntarily chosen solitude.

But you are none of that. You are an abandoned and unloved wife with a boring job and no money, sitting here at a table for two because your husband ditched you to fuck his pretty little assistant in his office.

And suddenly, the tears are back in your eyes, making it hard to see. You quickly avert your shameful gaze, your hand grabbing your wine glass so tightly it almost breaks.

Your sight is blurry, but you can still see the shocked look on the man's face across from you. His eyes dart away from you but then back again, obviously not used to the company of a crying stranger. He clears his throat before he leans slightly across the table, lowering his voice to a soft murmur,

"Are you alright?"

You feel embarrassment flood you, feeling so mortified at your behavior. You wish the ground would just open up and swallow you! This is so typical of you, ruining this stranger's evening, because you don't have your emotions under control and act like a complete fool. It's something your husband would chide you for or make fun of if he saw it.

"I... I am so sorry! Please just ignore me."

You hate how your voice breaks, and before you can suppress it, a pathetic-sounding sob falls from your lips. You press your hands to your face, sobbing silently into them, trying to hide from the world and from the poor guy who's forced to share this table with you.

But then you feel a tentative touch, a warm hand gently brushing over your arm, and you pull your hands from your face, blinking at your table partner, feeling your lips tremble and your face burning, knowing that you must look so ugly right now with your makeup ruined and tears and snot coating your face.

Another apology is already waiting on your tongue, but he shakes his head, and somehow, it's so authoritative but also gentle that your apology dies on your tongue. Instead, you blink at him, as he cocks his head and watches you thoughtfully, that low voice so smooth and soothing when he says,

"Don't apologize."

You nod, trying to smile gratefully at him, but fail miserably as his kind reaction only causes more tears to fall.

He shoves his hand into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a handkerchief. Not a paper tissue, but an actual handkerchief. He offers it to you, and you reach for it automatically, thanking him. But you freeze the moment your hand wraps around the fabric, realizing it's made out of fine silk.

He raises an eyebrow,

"Please, take it."

"But I... I will just ruin it with my makeup..."

He huffs, a soft smirk lifting his lips,

"I don't care. I'll just buy a new one. Take it. I insist."

"Th.. thank you, sir. That's really sweet of you."

His lips twitch,

"You're welcome. And for you, it's Sukuna, not sir."

You sniffle, pressing his handkerchief against your cheeks as you nod and tell him your name.

His smirk softens to a small smile, and he jerks his tattooed chin toward your empty wine glass.

"Do you want another one of those? Looks like you could use it."

You nod as more tears well up in your eyes, and Sukuna snips his fingers, instantly summoning a waiter to your table as if they are all hovering nearby just waiting for Sukuna to voice a wish.

Five minutes later, you have another red wine to hold on to and sip on, which causes a comforting buzz in your head, and suddenly, it all breaks out of you, and you tell Sukuna everything. You tell him about your failed marriage, about how lonely you feel, how unloved. About your cheating husband. About how pathetic you think you are for not daring to leave him because you have never been on your own before and you have no one who has your back.

You cry and sob and take big gulps of the wine while pouring your heart out to this beautiful stranger sitting across from you. This guy who, despite his intimidating look, is surprisingly gentle with you and who doesn't mind that you stain his silken handkerchief with your mascara and lipstick.

Sukuna actually listens to you. He looks earnestly at you, clenches his jaw when you tell him how your husband treats you, and shakes his head when you say under tears how stupid you think you are.

"No, you aren't. Don't blame yourself. It's him. He is the problem. He is the asshole."

Sukuna is the first one who tells you that you deserve better.

You feel an unexpected relief at finally being able to pour your heart out to someone. And just when you get yourself enough under control again to begin feeling embarrassed at your outburst, Sukuna flashes you a smirk and raises an eyebrow, asking,

"Do you want me to get rid of him for you?"

Which makes you forget the embarrassment and instead stare at him with big eyes and hurriedly splutter,

"Oh my god, no! This is not what I..."

You don't get any further because Sukuna begins to laugh, shaking his head slightly as his eyes sparkle amusedly at you.

"Don't worry. I'm just joking."

You huff a breath of relief, followed by a little laugh. Sukuna's comment managed to pull you out of your little moment of regret, and you feel better again, taking another sip from your wine and even managing to eat a few bites of the meal Sukuna ordered for the two of you, claiming that an empty stomach is never good.

Sukuna is nice to you. It's astounding to you because, with the way he looks with those face tattoos and the slightly dangerous aura surrounding him, you would have never thought a man like him could be so nice. It brings more tears to your eyes, feeling too emotional from all the wine. But you use Sukuna's handkerchief to blot them away.

He leaves with you when you say you have to go home, walks around the table, and pulls out your chair like a real gentleman. He offers you his strong arm when you sway lightly on your heels. He helps you into your coat and accompanies you to the exit.

You stand in front of the restaurant on the busy street, but all you see is Sukuna, who stands so close to you that you can smell his cologne, a sensual, woodsy scent that fits him perfectly, smelling expensive and sexy.

He puts a large hand on your tear-stained cheek, cupping it gently, wiping a few fresh tears away, and you take a step closer to him as if drawn in by a magical force, craving this tender touch, even if it's just a stranger touching your cheek in the middle of a busy sidewalk.

Sukuna is so tall and broad, making you feel so safe somehow, and before you can stop yourself, you lean your head against his broad chest, closing your eyes for a moment and sighing longingly. For the first time in so long, you feel as if you can breathe.

You reluctantly take a step back again, tilting your head to smile up at Sukuna, thanking him again for everything he did for you. And he grins at you and leans down, his lips brushing over your ear, while his hand still caresses your cheek,

"You deserve so much better than your asshole of a husband. Don't hesitate to call or text me when you need a break again."

And with that, he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. It's such a delicate feeling, so soft and gone again in a split second that you aren't sure if it really happened or if you just imagined it, but it fills you with such warmth that it almost hurts.

Sukuna pulls away with a smirk, and you see a business card dangling from his long fingers. You take it from him with a small, grateful smile.

+++

Several days pass, during which you firmly ignore the business card that's still in your purse.

Waking up the next morning after meeting Sukuna made you feel strange. Guilty somehow. As if you had done something wrong. It's ridiculous, of course. Nothing happened between Sukuna and you. And if someone was supposed to feel guilt, it was your husband. And yet you refused to even look at the business card, feeling like you would be doing something bad if you even so much as entertained the idea of adding Sukuna's number to your contacts.

No, you would never contact Sukuna. You would do as your mom had said. Just accept the circumstances of your marriage and create your own happiness. Maybe you should really find a new hobby. Or maybe you could get a pet? A cat or a dog?

For the next few days, you almost manage to convince yourself that you are fine with your life. You keep yourself busy by researching different cat and dog breeds and starting a new TV show.

But then you walk in on your husband flirting with his affair on the phone again, and you see red. This time, you can't stop yourself from confronting him, from snapping at him and screaming at him under tears to stop it.

It leads to nothing, though. He is so unbothered, so smooth, lying through his teeth, downplaying it, claiming she is just a good friend, making you seem like some nutcase who overreacts at every little thing.

You escape to the bedroom, sitting on the bed, staring off into space as tears stream down your face, feeling so helpless in your rage and misery. What are you supposed to do when your cheating partner refuses to admit he is actually cheating on you?

You wish you had the courage to leave him. Or better, you wish he would take the decision from you and leave you so you won't be the one everyone blames for ending this seemingly perfect marriage! And so you won't have to be the one who makes a decision that will change your whole life.

You yank open your nightstand, searching for some paper tissues. And that's when you see Sukuna's handkerchief again, peeking out from under a package of chocolate cookies.

You brush tenderly over the soft, silken fabric. A small smile lifts your lips as your fingers brush over the initials embroidered on it in one corner in a fancy gold thread. S.I.. Itadori Sukuna.

You let out a long breath, wiping your tears away with one hand while the other holds the handkerchief. And suddenly, the clouds seem to disappear as you remember the warmth you felt when Sukuna cupped your cheek and wiped your tears away. And suddenly you know what you want to do.

You jump up and walk to your dresser, pull it open hurriedly, and yank out the purse you had with you in that restaurant. You open it, impatiently emptying its contents over your bed, until you see the business card with Sukuna's contact information.

On any other day, you would overthink things and take an hour to even make up your mind about what to write, but in the state you are in right now, everything seems so clear.

You grab your phone, add Sukuna's contact, and open a new text message. Your fingers seem to do the work without you consciously having to think about it as they quickly type a message:

"Hey. It's your surprise table partner from last Friday. Thank you again for being so nice to me and for your handkerchief."

You feel triumphant as you place your phone down on your nightstand. And then it buzzes, and your heart jumps to your throat. There's a reply.

"I'm glad you finally texted me. You are very welcome. How are you feeling?"

"I am ok. What about you?"

You cringe at your poor small-talk skills, but Sukuna is surprisingly easy to talk to. He tells you about his day, about business meetings, and what he will have for dinner.

There's a strange feeling spreading through your chest. A kind of longing. You crave the feeling of being near Sukuna again. How safe you felt when leaning your head against his chest for a few seconds. How seen you felt when he listened patiently to you and reassured you.

You want to see him again. Want that feeling again.

"I want to give you back your handkerchief. Where can we meet?"

You know you sound weird as fuck, but it's the only way you dare ask him to meet you again.

"I don't want that handkerchief back, sweetheart. But we should meet up anyway. I quite enjoyed your company. How about you join me again for dinner sometime this week?"

Oh.

Your heart is racing uncontrollably, and your hand shakes as you stare at Sukuna's message.

This is it. This is where things become dangerous. You know the right thing to do would be to say no. It's what a married woman should do. But your husband is in the living room, probably sexting his little affair, so why should you be a good wife?

And so you text Sukuna back, letting him know that dinner sounds great.

+++

The dinner with Sukuna is nice. Really nice. You catch yourself feeling so much lighter, your lips lifted in genuine laughter, your eyes shining with happiness as you spend your evening with Sukuna. He is a very charming conversationalist. Cocky, but in such a playful way that it makes you giggle and feel your face get hot from all the joy it brings you to playfully joke around with him and let him tease you in such a charming and light-hearted way.

Your meeting is innocent, nothing that could be counted as cheating. Just a man and a woman who enjoy good food and wine together and chat about everything and nothing. The occasional small touches don't count, right? Like when Sukuna's large hand brushes over the back of your much smaller hand that's resting on the table.

Or when he reaches across the table to cup your chin and wipe some cherry sauce off the corner of your lips with his thumb. But just because his gentle touch makes your skin tingle and your pulse quicken doesn't mean there is anything going on between Sukuna and you!

Sukuna refuses to let you pay, saying it's a delight for him to have you keep him company. And you laugh bashfully and wave him off but feel so giddy. Sukuna offers you his arm when you walk out of the restaurant, and you take it happily, marveling at how tall he is and how safe you feel walking at his side, biting your lip when you wrap your hand around his upper arm and feel his big biceps flex under your palm.

You say good night on the street in front of the restaurant, and before you know what you are doing, you wrap your arms around Sukuna for a light hug. You intend to pull away again immediately, just a quick, friendly hug, but you get stopped by Sukuna's strong arms wrapping around you, holding you firmly, hugging you back, and not letting you go yet.

He rests his chin on your head, and you have the enticing scent of his cologne in your nose again. You feel so warm and comfortable with Sukuna's strong arms around you, his tall, muscular body pressing against you, warm and reassuring. It makes you let out a shaky breath, overcome with feelings, because you can't remember the last time someone hugged you like this.

Sukuna's low voice is a velvety rumble when he says,

"I am on the National Museum's VIP list. There will be a pre-opening event for a new exhibition this coming week. Heian era. It sounds interesting. Would you like to accompany me?"

You lift your head, looking curiously at Sukuna,

"What must one do to get added to the National Museum's VIP list?"

An amused smirk lifts Sukuna's lips, making him look so unfairly handsome,

"Oh, nothing much, just make one or two generous donations every year."

He shrugs, and you laugh, beaming up at him in amusement as you nod,

"I would love to accompany you."

"Sweet. It's settled, then. I'll text you the day and time."

You want to walk to the subway, but Sukuna stops you with a warm hand on your arm, saying he will drive you home. For a moment, you freeze, not knowing what to say. It feels wrong somehow to let another man drive you to the apartment you share with your husband. And maybe you should be cautious and keep a distance and not let Sukuna know exactly where you live.

But you shake yourself out of it. All of those things have been hammered into your brain all of your life, making you anxious and scared and never truly living your life. You are already meeting with Sukuna for dinner and will accompany him to a museum next week. The world won't end if he knows your address!

You smile at him and nod, telling him it would be very nice if he drove you. And Sukuna smiles back, a pleased look in his maroon eyes. He gently steers you towards the parking space with a large hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you stroll down the street.

You catch yourself having a more upright posture than usual, your head lifted, your lips adorned with a soft smile. You feel like the passerbies are all looking at you and Sukuna. Maybe thinking the two of you are a couple on a date, and the thought makes your stomach tingle.

Sukuna's car is a black Porsche. You don't even know why you are surprised. He grins lazily as he opens the door for you and helps you slip into the passenger seat, handing you your purse when you sit and carefully closing the door behind you before he walks around the front of the fancy sports car and gets into the driver's seat.

"Nice car," you say, and Sukuna turns to look at you with a teasing twinkle in his eyes,

"Well, I'm not a nice guy, so at least my car should be."

"Oh, I think you are very nice."

The two of you hold eye contact for a long moment, both pairs of eyes filled with amusement before you burst out giggling, and Sukuna joins you with his low laugh.

+++

You spend the next evenings at home, having dinner with your husband, who is busy with his phone most of the time, making the cold, heavy feeling in your stomach even worse.

Your only joy is the anticipation you feel in looking forward to Wednesday afternoon when you will meet Sukuna at the museum.

He is already waiting when you arrive, leaning casually against a pillar next to the entrance, tall and handsome with his perfectly styled pink hair and his Tom Ford suit. A dark red one this time, which makes his eyes look like red wine.

Sukuna is a beautiful man.

For a moment, you feel a nervous flutter in your chest, but it vanishes again when Sukuna grins at you and greets you with his warm, low voice and a large hand on your back, pulling you into a half hug.

He doesn't even have to say his name when the two of you approach the young man who greets the guests and ticks off their names on the guest list.

"Ah, Mr Itadori! Have fun at the exhibition. And thank you so much for your generous support."

Your hand slips naturally around Sukuna's arm as you stroll through the exhibition. It feels nice to be here. It makes you realize how long it's been since you last visited a museum. Or did any kind of activity, really. Your husband never had time for you during the last few years.

You can tell that Sukuna is genuinely interested in the exhibition. He already seems to be an expert on the topic, adding interesting facts to the already detailed info sheets next to each exhibition piece.

It's an equal amount of endearing and sexy how nerdy he seems to be about this. Attractive. You like smart men. You like it when a man is passionate about learning everything about a topic that interests him. And Sukuna is like that.

You hang on his lips, soaking up his knowledge, feeling way too hot when you watch the sparkle in his maroon eyes as he goes into a passionate monologue about political intrigues during the timeline of one of the exhibition pieces.

And he seems to like that you also show genuine interest in the exhibition and in what he has to say about it. He blesses you with a soft smile that makes your stomach flutter. You feel exhilarated, your heart pounding in your chest, almost bursting with happiness. A long-forgotten feeling emerging again after so many years.

You thank Sukuna profusely for the fun afternoon, and he grins that charming, boyish grin at you and tells you he is grateful that you kept him such lovely company.

This time, there is no doubt about whether he really kisses your cheek or not. His lips linger on your heated skin for a long moment, soft lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before Sukuna smiles at you and cups your other cheek with his hand, his long fingers caressing it slowly.

"Let's meet again for dinner next week, sweetheart."

+++

You pace your living room restlessly.

Your trip to the museum with Sukuna made you realize something. It made you realize what this giddy feeling is that has been filling you ever since you started to meet up with him. That light-hearted, fluttery, happy feeling you get when you see him or even just when you think of him (which is almost every waking second of your day).

You try to shut down those feelings, telling yourself it's dangerous to let someone make you feel so much again. It makes you too vulnerable. It will only lead to more chaos and more hurt.

Why would a man like Sukuna even be interested in anything serious with me? He can probably have anyone. Either he only sees me as a friend, or I am just a little fling to him. I have to stop this before I get in even deeper!

In the coming week, you cancel your dinner with Sukuna by sending him a short text telling him you have a cold. He sends you a get well soon message and asks if you need anything, which you deny, even while you sob silently because Sukuna is so caring, and all you want to do is run into his strong arms and forget about your joyless life.

But you stay strong and put your phone away, forbidding yourself from sending more messages to Sukuna.

Your husband makes a rare attempt to talk to you, and you already know what he wants. After tiptoeing around you for several hours, he asks you for sex. You join him in the dark bedroom, feeling nothing as you slip out of your clothes and climb into bed with him.

You have learned to close your eyes during sex and let your mind wander, imagining all kinds of fictional scenarios to help you feel anything at all. But this time, you don't think of a fictional love interest out of a romance novel or an actor you find attractive. This time, you think of Sukuna.

You feel dirty afterward as you stand under the shower and scrub at your skin. Dirty for thinking of Sukuna while you slept with your husband. But what makes you feel even dirtier is that you still let your cheating husband touch you even though Sukuna is so nice to you. It feels as if you are cheating on both of them.

You cry so much that you feel like you have no tears left.

+++

Even though you haven't met or talked to Sukuna in over a week, he is still constantly on your mind. You are haunted by images of him. That beautiful tattooed face. That sexy low voice and the playful smirk. That tall and muscular body that makes you feel so tiny in comparison and so safe when you are standing in front of him or leaning against him.

You sigh. One would assume that acknowledging that you are developing romantic feelings for Sukuna would make things easier for you. Clearer. But the thing is, even though you know what your heart wants, you are still too scared to end things with your husband. There are too many insecurities. Too many risks and you feel so useless and weak, just like your parents always told you you are.

You feel frozen, unable to make a move. There is this wonderful man who treats you as if you are special and shows you how a man is supposed to make you feel, and yet you lack the courage to get out of your loveless marriage.

You have always been an overthinker, always scared to trust your instincts. Brought up to always be sensible and make decisions with your head and not your heart. So how could you just leave the security of this marriage? Especially when you are trying to convince yourself that Sukuna would never want a relationship anyway.

No, you can't let yourself believe that you could have a future with Sukuna. This is just a stupid dream born out of your naivety, which your parents always warned you about.

And how could you even go about ending things with your husband? Sit him down and tell him it's over? But what then? What do you do when he just refuses to accept it?

Or should you just pack your bag and leave while he is at work, letting him return to an empty apartment and a goodbye letter on the kitchen table? But where would you go? To a hotel? You have no money. To your parents? You would feel so ashamed, and you fear their judgment. To a friend? You don't really have any friends anymore who you are close enough with to ask this of.

You sigh. None of it seems achievable. Not for you. You are too chicken to do any of it.

Your husband informs you that he will be gone for two days for a business trip, and you let out a breath of relief, happy about the freedom you feel when he is away and you have the apartment to yourself.

You open a bottle of wine, listen to your favorite playlist, and dance around the kitchen, almost able to convince yourself that things will be ok and you can just live a life feeling detached from the hurt your marriage causes you.

And then your iPad dies. You groan, quickly walking to the spare room you use as an office to grab your husband's laptop, only to get greeted by his e-mail inbox, where you see a booking confirmation for a romantic couple getaway for the next two days.

You stare at it wide-eyed. And then you sit down in a daze and go through the received and sent e-mails, only discovering more outrageous things. The escort girls your husband booked over the last year, the flowers he ordered for other women, while you never got any flowers from him in all your years married to him. The romantic getaways he booked anytime he claimed to go on business trips.

You can't even cry about it anymore. The sadness is replaced by cold rage. And by a strange feeling of resignation. You know you could show all of this to your mom and finally make her believe what you told her all this time. Finally, presenting her and everyone else with proof of how badly your husband treats you.

But even as you snap pictures of the e-mails, you realize you can't bring yourself to do it. And the infuriating thing about it is that it's not even because it causes you hurt, but because you still want to protect your husband. If you show your mom this, she will confront him and make a huge scene. And you don't want that to happen. Even after everything he did, you still are too much of a good girl to let him face the rage of your mom.

That's why you close the laptop again without doing anything. You make sure to put it back to where you found it.

But a different kind of conviction has settled over you. If your asshole of a husband can go on romantic getaways and sex meetings, you can allow yourself some fun, too, can't you?

It's not even that you plan to have sex when you text Sukuna. You just want to meet him for dinner or another trip to the museum. You just want to talk to him, and laugh with him and soak up the light feeling he gives you.

He calls you instead of texting back. Your heart races when you take the call, and Sukuna's velvety low voice fills your ear,

"I just came home from a big grocery haul. So how about instead of meeting at a restaurant, you come to my apartment, and I cook for you?"

You agree instantly.

+++

Unsurprisingly, Sukuna lives in one of the most expensive neighborhoods of the city. The luxurious apartment complex makes you feel nervous and a bit out of place. But that uneasiness slips from you the moment Sukuna opens his door and greets you with that sexy, teasing smirk and a playful little comment.

It's the first time you see Sukuna dressed casually. And it undeniably does something to you to see him in a pair of gray sweatpants and a rather snug-fitting white t-shirt that clings to his buff pecs and gives you a nice view of his muscular arms and more of his tattoos. You aren't sure what is more mouth-watering, the food that is simmering in one of the pots on Sukuna's stove or his big biceps that flex deliciously with every move.

Sukuna lifts you onto the kitchen counter, easily picking you up and setting you down as if you weigh nothing. A fact that makes you all flustered and sends your pulse racing, making you gratefully grab the wine glass Sukuna is offering you, so you can hide your face behind it and let the alcohol calm your nerves.

No man has ever cooked for you before, and watching Sukuna do it is one of the most attractive things you have ever witnessed. He is so sexy. Passionate and skilled, and still always taking time to playfully flirt with you or ask you to try one of his dishes, feeding you food from a spoon or from his fingers.

There is a special kind of electricity between you tonight. An almost touchable tension that makes your skin tingle anytime Sukuna brushes up against you.

His voice is husky when he tells you what ingredients he uses to marinate the roasted vegetables. And you can't help but let your tongue flick over his fingers when he pushes a slice of roasted zucchini against your lips.

Sukuna groans softly. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you look up at his tattooed face. You are met by a hungry glint in those beautiful maroon eyes that remind you of the wine Sukuna poured for you.

You are caught in Sukuna's intense gaze, unable to look away. Everything else seems to fade away.

And the next thing you know is that Sukuna is kissing you. Or maybe you were the one who pressed her lips against his first. You don't know. All you know is that you are kissing right here in Sukuna's kitchen while you sit on the kitchen counter, and he is standing between your legs. His large hands are cupping your cheeks and tilting your head back, and your hands are twisting in the front of his soft white t-shirt, pulling him closer to you as you sigh needily into his mouth.

Sukuna kisses you like you have never been kissed before. Passionate, fiery. Deep and sensual, making your head spin and your pulse flutter under Sukuna's hands.

You can't get enough of him and wrap your arms and legs around him as if you are scared he will vanish into thin air if you let go of him. You kiss him with a hunger unknown to you until now. Like a starving person being presented with a life-saving meal.

Sukuna's large hands trail down your sides, fingertips grazing over the sides of your breasts, eliciting a needy little whine from you, and further down until they reach your thighs. You are drunk on his kiss, drunk on him, melting under every little touch.

And Sukuna hums in the back of his throat and deepens the kiss even more. His large hands slip under you, cupping your ass, kneading it while he makes you moan around his tongue.

You have always been shy, but there is something about Sukuna and the way he makes you feel that makes you slip a hand under his t-shirt, feeling him up, greedily caressing his flexing abs, feeling dizzy at how good his firm muscles feel under your fingertips.

You both can't seem to stop kissing, both tumbling down further and further into this heated desire. You are faintly aware of Sukuna mumbling against your lips that the sauce needs to simmer for another hour anyway, and then he picks you up and lifts you easily off the kitchen counter while his lips claim yours again.

Sukuna carries you to his bedroom while never breaking the kiss, and you suck on his bottom lip and run your greedy hands through his soft pink hair and down his bulging biceps, wanting him so much that you think you will die if you don't get all of him tonight.

You sleep with Sukuna on his fancy bed, and it's nothing like it was with your husband. It's like you finally learn how sex is supposed to feel with a man who truly wants you.

Sukuna makes you feel wanted and desired, a feeling that is so new to you after all these years caught in a loveless marriage where your husband made you feel undesirable, unattractive, and like you would never be able to find anyone else with how your body looks and how lousy you are in bed.

But with Sukuna, it is completely different. You feel sexy here in his bed with the way he looks at you when he undresses you. And with the way he moans sweet praise in your ear before his lips and hands worship your body.

Sukuna is a real man. Experienced and confident, but so loving and patient with you when you get shy and tell him that you aren't very experienced and that your husband was disappointed in your skills in the bedroom.

At one point, you tense up, thinking Sukuna will get angry like your husband when you are clumsy during sex. But the opposite is the case. Sukuna is calm and gentle, talking to you in that sexy low voice, all soothing and sexy, telling you that it's ok and that you don't have to be scared or embarrassed.

He kisses you until your head spins and then asks you why you got so tense, asks you what you need. And you almost break out in tears, hugging him tightly, hiding your face in his defined pecs, inhaling his scent, and feeling so loved and so safe in his strong arms like never before.

"I just... I have only been with my husband, and he told me I am not good in bed. He always got mad at me when I didn't know how something worked. I am sorry if I am not what you are used to."

And you feel Sukuna's arms tightening around you, feel him tense up. But he isn't angry with you, only with your husband.

"That man is such a fool. Look at me, darling."

You lift your head off his chest and look at his tattooed face when he looks at you all earnestly,

"You are a beautiful woman, sexy and desirable, and I want to fuck you so good you forget your own name. Because that's what you deserve. And you don't have to be experienced or fuck like a pornstar. You are perfect the way you are, and you drive me crazy. And if you don't know how something works and you want to learn it, then I will teach you, and I promise I will be patient and gentle."

You nod wildly, feeling too emotional to speak, and instead press your body against Sukuna's and capture his lips in another needy kiss. You can feel his smile against your lips when he wraps his large hands around your waist and takes control.

Everything is so easy after that. No words are needed. Just hands and lips exploring each other's skin in heated caresses and bodies entangled in feverish passion. You let yourself fall, give yourself fully into Sukuna's loving hands. Let him take care of you like no one has ever done before.

He fucks you so good you cry.

All the years of feeling undesirable and not enough slip off you now that you are in Sukuna's bed under his gorgeous, tall, and heavy body, your nails leaving scratches on his broad back, hot tears of bliss streaming down your cheeks, and his name falling sweetly from your lips over and over again like a prayer.

It's like you are finally alive, like you are a flower that finally blooms after all these years.

+++

That first night in Sukuna's bed changed you profoundly.

You catch yourself smiling all day. There's a new bounce in your steps. You feel so much lighter. Your stomach is filled with butterflies as if you are a teenager again who has her first crush. Your chest feels so warm. You're filled with new hope. Maybe there is more to life and love than you thought, after all.

You feel like, for the first time, someone has really seen you. You weren't aware that sex like this existed in real life. That a man could make you fall apart like that. Sukuna fucked you in a way that was life-changing, making you feel like you gave him not just your body but also your soul.

And as passionate and nasty as the sex with Sukuna was, he made you feel respected the whole time. Adored. That is what makes you lose your mind anytime you think of it. You have been with your husband for so long, and yet even in the beginning, when the feelings were still fresh, he never made you feel adored or loved in bed. You didn't even know it until now, but he only ever made you feel used.

When your husband asks you for sex, you turn him down his time, telling him you aren't in the mood, and you don't even feel guilty for it.

You keep running back into Sukuna's strong arms over and over again. Into his bed, under his heavy body, where you feel loved and wanted. It's like he opened your eyes, and now you can see all those new colors that you only seem to be able to see with him.

+++

Your clandestine meetings continue for weeks. It surprises you to see winter turn into spring, and yet Sukuna is still texting you, inviting you to more dinner dates and to more intimate meetings in his bedroom. You always assumed he would end your little affair before things became too serious.

But somehow, he is still in your life, reserving his Wednesday evenings for you, buying you roses, and taking you to the best restaurants in the city.

One night, you sit up in his bed on the ruffled silk sheets and bite your lip as you let your gaze trail over Sukuna's naked body. His tattooed skin, his buff muscles, his beautiful silhouette. And you blurt out,

"Why do you keep seeing me?"

It's what you have been asking yourself from the start. What does Sukuna see in you? You are mediocre in every way. Average looks, no real talents, and no impressive career. A wife who got neglected by her husband because she wasn't good enough in his eyes. A woman in her thirties, who was replaced by a younger, more attractive version.

Sukuna, on the other hand, is gorgeous, powerful and rich, and his age only makes him more attractive. He could have anyone.

Sukuna hums softly and turns onto his side, lifting his head to watch you with curious maroon eyes.

"What do you mean, darling?"

You avert your gaze, sighing, bringing up your hands in a helpless little gesture,

"I... I mean, you are you, and I am me. And I just don't understand what you see in me."

Now, the noise Sukuna makes sounds a bit like a growl. You feel stupid for saying anything, already about to scramble out of his bed and flee before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. But you don't make it out of bed. Sukuna's strong arms wrap around you and stop you. He pulls you back into his arms and against his solid, broad chest.

"Don't belittle yourself like that. I keep asking to see you because I want to. Because I like spending time with you. You are so sweet. You make me feel so warm when I have always felt so cold."

His words hit you like a truck. You blink rapidly, your eyelashes fluttering against Sukuna's chest.

"R... really?"

He huffs softly, letting out a low chuckle as his large hand pets your hair,

"Yes, really. I used to only have one-night stands or casual flings. Just sex and nothing more. I used to think that was all I needed. But you showed me something different. Hell, I've never spent so much time with a woman before I slept with her for the first time. And I enjoyed every second of it! I like spending time with you to talk and laugh with you and just have this companionship. You make me feel like maybe I am not that cold-hearted asshole I always thought I was."

You gulp hard, tears filling your eyes. But this time, happy ones. You sniffle against Sukuna's naked chest and press a tender kiss to his tattooed skin.

"You are so sweet, Sukuna."

He laughs softly, and you can feel it against your cheek, a low rumble, where your face is resting on his chest,

"You are the first one who told me I am sweet. Are you sure?"

Now, you laugh softly, too. The insecurity you felt a moment ago forgotten,

"Yes, 100% sure. No one has ever treated me as sweet as you."

"It's what you deserve. You are so sweet that I want to be sweet for you, too. And..."

Sukuna's large hands tighten around your hips, and he flips you over. He rolls on top of you, covering you whole with his tall, broad body. His lips find your neck, trailing little kisses over it, his low voice a seductive murmur in your ear,

"You're not just sweet, but also beautiful and sexy, and you make me laugh, and I want to take you places and cook for you and also want to keep you on my cock all night and feel you squeeze around me and hear you cry my name."

Sukuna grinds his hips against you, pushing you into the mattress, taking you with one powerful, deep thrust for the second time tonight. You gasp and cling to his broad shoulders, your legs wrapping around his hips, welcoming him, craving him, needing him.

He takes it slow. Slow, deep thrusts, his forehead resting against yours, his low voice moaning sweet nothings in between deep, sensual kisses.

It's then that you realize that Sukuna is doing what no one else ever did to you. Sukuna is making love to you.

And you cry hot tears, drowning in his love and his body and everything he gives you. Your nails leave scratches on his broad back, your heels dig into his firm ass, as you throw your head back and cry out his name in the sweetest ecstasy.

He holds you afterward, lies behind you, and wraps his tall, strong body around you. He hugs you with his strong arms and nuzzles his face into your neck, breathing kisses onto your skin, not letting go of you, taking care of you, cuddling you. Something you also never had before. A man who is willingly holding you like that for hours after he came in you.

You sigh happily, still in a daze. The occasional tear still runs down your cheek as you snuggle against Sukuna's muscular body, and your hands caress his tattooed forearms tenderly. You never want to leave his arms again. You want to stay right here.

As if reading your mind, Sukuna's low voice murmurs against your skin again,

"I mean it, darling. I like having you in my life. So much that I want you in it all the time."

One of his large hands caresses your belly, so tender, so loving, sending butterflies fluttering in it like crazy. And Sukuna breathes in your ear,

"Be mine."

You draw in a sharp breath and turn around in Sukuna's arms, cupping his face with your hands as you kiss him, long and sweet, and in between kisses, you murmur against his lips,

"I am already yours."

You know it is the truth. Even though you are still married to another man, even though you are still living with your husband, you are Sukuna's woman now. You suspect you have been Sukuna's woman for several months already, long before you allowed yourself to admit it out loud.

+++

Two hours later, you are buttoning up your coat, about to leave Sukuna's apartment and the sweet bliss of his arms and return to your cold, loveless marriage, and your lonely apartment, when Sukuna stops in front of you. He reaches out, wordlessly helping you with the buttons, dominant in such a caring way, and somehow, that small loving gesture makes your lips tremble as you are overcome by emotions.

He is so good to you. Such a giant of a man, so tall and broad and powerful. And yet, he treats you so gently. Large hands buttoning up your coat for you. The hands that also cook Michelin-star-worthy meals for you, or wash your hair in his luxurious bathtub. The hands that make you see stars when they finger you oh so good. The hands that caress your cheek tenderly and brush your tears away with so much care. Hands that give to you over and over again. A hundred little acts of service that this powerful man gives to you.

"Sukuna, I..."

You trail off, not able to put into words what you want to say to him. How much he means to you. How much you want him. How he made you believe in love again. How much you crave to leave your old life behind and start over new with Sukuna even though you are so scared of change.

Before you can say any of it, Sukuna grabs your wrists, takes them firmly but gently into his larger hands, and looks at you intensely.

"Leave that asshole. He doesn't deserve you, princess. If a man can't see what he has in you, then he is trash. Don't be scared. I can take much better care of you than him. I'll fuck you good and make you only cry happy tears. I will appreciate you like you deserve. I will love you like you deserve. I will ensure you always have everything you need. I have money, and I can protect you. Tell me, darling, who would you feel safer with waking through the city in the middle of the night? That joke of a man or me?"

Of course, you know the answer.

"I love you, Sukuna."

"I love you, too."

His strong arms wrap around you and pull you into a hug, and you nuzzle your face into his chest, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne. And finally, here in the safety of Sukuna's embrace, you say those words you have been too scared to say until now,

"I will leave him. I want to be with you. Only with you, Kuna."

You can hear the smile in Sukuna's voice when he replies,

"I'll help you, sweetheart. I have one of the best lawyers in the whole country. I'll call him tomorrow to prepare the divorce papers. I'll take care of everything for you."

Sukuna cups the back of your head and leans down to kiss your forehead gently, reassuringly. He looks at you with that boyish grin you fell in love with and adds in a playful and husky voice,

"And once all of this is dealt with, I will make you my wife."

He takes your left hand into his, turning it around, inspecting the wedding ring you are still wearing, scrunching his nose at it,

"And I'll give you a much prettier ring."

+++

You let the door fall softly shut behind you one last time as you walk out of the apartment you had been sharing with your husband for over a decade. A smile lifts your lips. You are glad to close this chapter of your life.

You know that a braver woman would have left her husband sooner, would have moved out, or kicked him out the moment she found out he was cheating on her. Maybe even sooner, when she realized she was unhappy in that marriage. But you aren't brave. You have always been full of self-doubts and fears. Too ashamed to crawl back to your parents and admit that you hadn't been strong enough to endure your marriage. Too scared that you would never recover from the financial loss of the divorce. Too insecure to believe you could ever make it on your own.

But now you have Sukuna. And the fall doesn't seem so high anymore. You know Sukuna will catch you in his strong arms. He won't let you crash to the ground.

In the end, you think it doesn't matter how you got out of that unhappy marriage and into this loving relationship. All that matters is that you got a second chance to learn how love is supposed to be.

And it still takes bravery to leave your husband and walk into Sukuna's arms. To close the door of your marriage and open the one that leads to the man who came into your life as an illicit affair but has become your one and only.

OH SUKUNA, I NEED YOU 😭😭💗💗 He really took one look at Reader having her breakdown in that restaurant and was like, "I will steal that woman from that loser and give her what she deserves." Thank you, Kuna baby ;)

Thank you so much if you read the whole thing! This story became much longer than I thought, but the words wouldn't stop flowing out of me because this story made me so happy. I hope it could give some of you the same feeling.

I often see posts/articles that victim-blame the women who don't have the courage to leave an unhappy marriage, so I wanted to write something where Reader isn't a strong, independent woman but someone who needs a little encouragement and lots of love from a man like Kuna before she dares make the decision to leave her husband. She deserves all the happiness!

I hope you enjoyed the story and maybe fell a little in love with this version of Sukuna, too 💗

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #jjk x you #jjk fluff #sukuna x y/n #jjk x y/n #tw cheating

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ave-cave · 4 months ago

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In Defense of Mahiru's Last Words

An aspect of 2-2 that I think a lot of Danganronpa fans get wrong is Mahiru’s last words to Fuyuhiko. I’d go so far as to call them the most misunderstood last words in the series.

Mahiru's role in the second case is often overlooked in favor of Peko and Fuyuhiko's, and this line encapsulates said role, so I figured I'd try to dispel the misconceptions that surround it. Cool? Cool.

---

First thing’s first, my thesis statement (lol): in response to the well-worn criticism that Mahiru’s last words to Fuyuhiko were hypocritical, I’ll grant fans this much: her words were shortsighted and poorly-timed. They weren’t, however, hypocritical.

More often than not when I see people refer to Mahiru’s last words as hypocritical, they mean that she's condemning Fuyuhiko for avenging his sister, meanwhile her friend who committed an act of revenge received her protection. My issue with this? Sato’s murder of Natsumi wasn’t revenge. The third day of Twilight Syndrome Murder Case (which Mahiru played) has Sato explain in depth why she did what she did. She didn’t confront Natsumi with the intent to kill her; she only wanted to talk at first. But when Natsumi began making threats, she saw red and accidentally knocked her out. Knowing how dire the consequences would be if Natsumi woke up and tattled to her family, Sato killed her and pinned the crime on a rumored pervert. This is further highlighted in the trial.

Now, don’t get me wrong, Sato is still to blame here. No matter how much shit Natsumi was talking, she shouldn’t have responded with violence, and she found herself in that situation through every fault of her own. The key thing is that it wasn’t revenge; it was desperation. By the time Natsumi fell unconscious, it was Sato who was trying to avoid becoming the victim of yakuza “justice.”

Recall that the incriminating evidence Mahiru got rid of was a picture of a broken vase. To anyone who wasn’t there the day of the incident, a photo of this nature would prove basically nothing. Sure, one could surmise that it means the killer didn’t actually escape through the window, but figuring out what they did do, and by extension who they are, would require having run into Sato in the hall (given it isn’t brought up at any point, it’s unlikely there was security footage.) It might arouse suspicion, seeing as there were rumors going around that Sato was with Natsumi the day of the latter's murder, but it wouldn't be able to substantiate anything. Either way, the only people who would have any use for it were the police and the yakuza.

Mahiru protecting Sato from the police wouldn't make much sense at all. Blind loyalty toward her friends – to the point of helping them escape consequences for their actions – isn’t a trait she showcases in the main game. There are a few classmates she shows extra care toward (she’s particularly concerned for Mikan, she sticks up for Peko and she offers to help Hiyoko when the latter is struggling with her kimono), sure, but unraveling the mysteries of the killing game takes first priority for her at the end of the day. Moreover, in Twilight Syndrome, before she realizes that Sato is the killer, she takes pictures of Natsumi's body in the hopes that they'll be useful to the police (this obviously isn't the smartest move, but it's in-character: Mahiru is someone who's always trying to do the right thing despite her lack of self-confidence. She feels guilty about agreeing with the other girls not to report Natsumi’s body, and so she figures that utilizing her talent is the next best thing. We see her do something similar in 2-1.) Going from “I need to help the police find the culprit” to “my friend is the culprit; time to destroy the evidence” is a dramatic shift – one that doesn't line up with anything else we know about Mahiru.

What's a trait she does showcase in the main game? Distaste for cruel and unusual punishment. She sympathizes with Teruteru’s motive, heavily implying that Monokuma shouldn't have executed him, and she criticizes Nekomaru and Kazuichi for hogtying and isolating Nagito, before eventually bringing him food. The second example is especially noteworthy. Nagito got both the Imposter and Teruteru killed – he's an unstable individual, no two ways about it. Mahiru doesn't object to his being restrained; she objects to the over-the-top, vigilante-style methods used by Nekomaru and Kazuichi to do so. There's a clear parallel to be drawn between this and Twilight Syndrome. If she's so against Nagito – a murderer who isn't her friend – receiving inhumane treatment, then there's no question she'd be against it for Sato, a murderer who is.

It's only reasonable to assume that, when Mahiru realized the truth of the incident, she destroyed the evidence for the same reason Sato committed murder in the first place: she knew that, if it got into yakuza hands, there would be hell to pay. She wasn’t too far off the mark, either. The rumors in mind, all it took for Fuyuhiko to connect the dots was witnessing Sato’s failed attempt to discard the sole intact copy of the photo (Mahiru needed at least one if she wanted to corner Sato and coax a confession from her; she couldn't have anticipated that it would be absconded with.) And even if he didn't, say someone else found it: they might report it to the police, yes, but more likely (given the lack of solid evidence) they would start another, more potent rumor – one that would eventually reach the wrong ears, inciting action. All told, Sato was lucky to have only been killed, as the yakuza are capable of much, much worse.

Mahiru didn’t think what Sato did was right. Far from it; she was shocked and horrified when her suspicions turned out to be true. Furthermore, even outside of the TSMC, she believes her covering for Sato is something to atone for, which automatically requires thinking Sato was wrong. But if it was within her power to throw the mafia off Sato’s trail, she absolutely would, including by decidedly immoral means. You don’t have to condone murder to not want your friend to be kidnapped and tortured.

When Mahiru tells Fuyuhiko during their final confrontation that “nobody has the right to judge others for their crimes,” “judge” is another way of saying “take revenge on.” Think the phrase “playing judge, jury and executioner.” Fuyuhiko judged Sato as deserving of death for her crime, and carried out that judgment by murdering her. That’s what Mahiru is condemning. She’s not dismissing his loss – she acknowledges that his sister’s murder was terrible. She’s saying it didn’t give him the right to become a murderer in turn. This isn’t hypocritical; it’s entirely consistent with her actions in the TSMC. She never sought revenge, nor did she enable anyone else’s. She was trying to prevent revenge from the start.

That said, Mahiru isn’t above reproach (if she were, none of this would be happening to begin with.) Though I stand firm that she had every right to be angry here, I can appreciate that Fuyuhiko did, too.

Mahiru went into the beach house intending to figure out how to atone for a sin she couldn’t remember committing. Fuyuhiko went into the beach house intending to kill Mahiru as further revenge for Natsumi. Thing is, Fuyuhiko isn’t a cold-blooded killer. He thinks he's supposed to be, but deep down he’s conflicted. And so, to cope, he has an out: if Mahiru denies the game's reality, he'll call off the plan. He’ll spare her. More than anything, he just wants to believe that none of it happened; his sister isn't dead and Mahiru didn't cover for her killer. But it's too late to hope for denial. He'd already accused Mahiru of the cover-up and sent her the photos as proof, and she’d been taking it very seriously ever since. The threatening letter he left her, combined with her knowledge of the game’s true ending, would have been more than enough to convince the others to apprehend him like Kazuichi wanted – not to mention the most obvious thing to do for her own protection. And yet from the moment she received the letter, the only thing on her mind was making amends. There was no going back.

These conflicting goals are a recipe for disaster. Fuyuhiko, who had initially compelled Mahiru to face her sin, is now wanting her to deny that the events of the game ever took place. Mahiru, who came for help collecting her thoughts, is now face-to-face with the very person she needed to prepare to talk to. Keyword: prepare. Again, the important thing to understand about Mahiru is that, despite her headstrong attitude and emphasis on “doing the right thing,” she doesn’t always know what the right thing is. She lacks the confidence necessary to support her levelheadedness, and so she agonizes and deliberates. Instances of this include:

When she stays quiet as Hiyoko berates Teruteru, claiming he deserved to die, only to come to terms with the issue later (main game).

When she’s implied to spend the night awake pondering what to do about the Twilight Syndrome motive (main game).

When she waits several days before getting rid of the vase picture, showing that she didn't take the decision lightly (TSMC).

When she ruminates over how best to make amends with Fuyuhiko, leading him to think she’s avoiding him (main game).

The fact that, in the TSMC, Mahiru finds herself in a situation that tests her moral compass is what makes her involvement in the case compelling. She’s not someone who believes the ends justify the means, and yet all of a sudden she’s thrust into a scenario where they have to – where “the right thing” (not destroying the evidence) and “the wrong thing” (letting Sato suffer and/or die) intersect. No wonder she handles the entire thing so clumsily; it’s completely foreign to her.

Now consider this situation. Mahiru has been lured to a secluded area. She never got the chance to talk things through with the other girls and hasn’t the first clue about how to make amends. Fuyuhiko has proven that he isn’t all bark and no bite and could actually hurt her if provoked. Hiyoko is nowhere to be found; who’s to say Fuyuhiko hasn’t killed or severely harmed her? It’s a perfect storm of stress. Needless to say, the interaction is already doomed.

Said interaction starts when Mahiru, treating the game as though it were real, asks if Fuyuhiko killed Girl E (Sato). At this, Fuyuhiko is furious. But wait… this whole thing started because Fuyuhiko accused her of being an accomplice to his sister's murder, and yet now, when she's asking about what he did in the game, he says he doesn't want to hear it? When she says he shouldn’t have killed Girl E, he replies that nobody cares? How does this sound to Mahiru? A man who doesn't think he did anything wrong, refusing to accept responsibility? Only at this point does she get angry.

On the other hand, from Fuyuhiko's perspective, Mahiru had been avoiding him ever since he left her that letter, and so the fact that she isn't answering his questions is insulting. Even though he'd already decided on revenge, he’s giving her a chance to avoid the fate he had planned for her altogether, simply by saying she doesn’t remember anything from the game or believe that it happened. Yet not only is she doing the opposite of that, the girl who supposedly tried to protect his sister's killer is claiming that he was also wrong. His anger skyrockets.

All in all, it’s pretty easy to understand where both of them were coming from. In Mahiru’s efforts to protect her friend from revenge, she prevented Fuyuhiko from getting justice for Natsumi in any capacity. There was no way the authorities would believe him, a member of the criminal underworld, over a seemingly normal high school girl – not without evidence. Sure, a picture of a vase wasn’t substantial, but it was something, and she got rid of it. Meanwhile, if Fuyuhiko hadn’t been out for blood, Mahiru wouldn’t have felt the need to destroy the evidence to begin with. In other words, they both felt they had no choice but to do what they did – Mahiru to cover things up, Fuyuhiko to kill. Their goals clashed at nearly every turn, right up to the end.

Mahiru messed up – that I won’t deny. She lost her cool and chastised Fuyuhiko while he was in the middle of interrogating her about his sister. She shouldn't have done that – not because she didn't have a point, but because it wasn't the right time to make it. Chances are if she’d kept treating the game as real, she still would have angered him enough to convince Peko it was necessary to step in, but straight-up condemning his actions more or less sealed her fate. It’s almost ironic how her go-to method of yelling at people to do better led to her death in this instance. Keep in mind, though, it was Fuyuhiko who put her in that position to begin with. He backed her into a corner, deprived her of the chance to think things through and expected her to simply… read his mind and say what he wanted her to say so that he could find an excuse not to kill her. That’s why I don’t think it’s fair to claim she brought her death entirely on herself.

Moreover, her last words in and of themselves weren’t off-target. Fuyuhiko spends nearly the rest of the game trying to atone for rushing into revenge. He realizes that Mahiru was right; “an eye for an eye” is a flawed credo, and it’s through this that he manages to earn the forgiveness of all of his classmates, even Hiyoko. Losing Peko might have been what springboarded his development, but Mahiru’s contribution shouldn’t be understated. Hell, the scenario of Mahiru's death echoes some of Goodbye Despair’s most important themes, namely restoration over retribution and being punished for a forgotten sin. The mindset that certain people deserve to die for their crimes is what leads to much of the cast’s misery, and ultimately the opposite philosophy is what saves them.

Thanks for reading :)

#danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa 2 goodbye despair #sdr2 #mahiru koizumi #fuyuhiko kuzuryu

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edenianprincess · 1 year ago

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INTRO !! ❤︎ ׄ Dialogues Intros .ᐟ

Dialogues intros about characters’ relationships with a gender neutral!reader. Characters chosen are Johnny, Bi-Han, Kenshi and Kitana. Content warning: very slight suggestive theme in 2 dialogues. There’s a small bonus angst part for Bi-han but the rest of his dialogues is taking place in a world where he didn’t betray his brothers. Please, respond to the poll at the end!

Johnny ! Mirror Dialogues

You: Two of us? There can only be one. You: Yeah, if Johnny see this he’ll go nuts.

You: Jo-Johnny?! But how?! You: Hollywood makeup, darling.

Johnny: Let’s be real, Y/n would totally prefer me. Johnny: You got balls to say this as a copycat.

Johnny ! At each other

You: Are you ready to show me off your skills in kombat? Johnny: Real question is, are YOU ready to be impressed by my skills?

You: Just because I’m your partner doesn’t mean I have to watch every of your movies. Johnny: Who said the only thing we were going to do is watch?

You: The model who talked to you, she wanted what? Johnny: Who cares, is someone jealous?

Johnny: Win this, Doll, and I’ll show my biiiig surprise for you. You: Let’s not waste time then, and just show me it now.

Johnny: I’ve got to say, I never went on a date as odd as this one. You: Could you please focus, Johnny.

Johnny: I may be the outlaw, darling. But you're the one stealing my heart. You: From which movie did you steal the line this time?

Johnny ! With other characters

Mileena: How can you have a partner with your pride is beyond me. Johnny: You know how many people wish to be at their place?

You: Why do you want to train with me that much? It has been a week now. Smoke: I just need to work on my technique, and you’re the best fighting partner!

Smoke: I don’t think I can hold on much longer, they’re starting to doubt something. Johnny: Please Smoke, my man, I just need a bit more time.

You: How is working with Johnny? Kenshi: Even the Yakuza didn’t make me work that much.

Johnny: Will you accept to be my best man for the wedding if Y/n says yes? Kenshi: It would be an honor.

Scorpion: The Shirai Ryu are in need of members. You: I can advise you Johnny’s paparazzis, they sneak into your privacy without your knowing.

Liu Kang: I’m glad to see your heart has open again. Johnny: I’m thankful for what Cris taught me but Y/n is without a doubt my soulmate.

Kung Lao: How is it like to live in a big celebrity’s house? You: Depends which house are we talking about.

Bi-Han ! Mirror Dialogues

You: There’s still a chance of redemption for your Bi-Han. You: Wait, what happened to yours?

You: Bi-Han wouldn’t be able to handle two of us. You: That’s why there should only be one left.

Sub-Zero: Y/n made you soft. Sub-Zero: We’ll see who is soft when your face meets my cold fist.

Bi-Han ! At each other

You: I don’t ask you to abandon your duties, just show that you care for me. Sub-Zero: Everything I do is for the Lin Kuei and you.

You: Do we really need to fight? I wouldn’t want to ruin that handso- Sub-Zero: Not in front of the new recruits.

You: Do I really need to train that much? Sub-Zero: I won’t gamble on your life to know the answer.

Sub-Zero: You’re spending too much time with the actor. You: You know he isn’t cooler than you.

Sub-Zero: You’re not my Y/n. You: I’m here to stop you before the shadows take over you.

Sub-Zero: How dare you call me with your foolish names in front of the champions?! You: *laughs* Let it go, Bi-Han.

Bi-Han ! With other characters

Kung Lao: Should I go easy on Babi Han? Sub-Zero: I’ll put your head on an ice stake!

Johnny: Seriously, him?! What does he has that I don’t? You: It’s more about what you have that he doesn’t.

Raiden: You… having a partner. That’s quite the amazement. Sub-Zero: And what is that supposed to mean?

Smoke: He didn’t even yell this time, how did you pacify him? You: A magician never reveals their secret.

Kitana: I see that this cold heart has finally melt. Sub-Zero: Don’t think this made me weak.

Liu Kang: You kept Bi-Han away to deflect towards the wrong path. You: I’m always looking out for him.

Scorpion: I’m really happy for you to have found your one, brother. Sub-Zero: With them by my side, the Lin Kuei can only flourish.

You: I am concerned for Bi-Han, do you think he’ll stay stable? Geras: This will depend on your actions.

Bi-Han ! Angst part

You: How could I feel a part of the Lin Kuei, when you reject your own brother? Sub-Zero: Tomas won’t be the one to insure the clan’s future.

You: You put more trust in this sorcerer than in me. Sub-Zero: It’s not about trust, it’s about glory.

Sub-Zero: We could have ruled together. You: Indeed, and you ruined everything.

Scorpion: You were lucky to have found someone like them, and you had to crush their feelings. Sub-Zero: They were lucky I deemed them as worthy.

You: I'm sorry for his words, I'm trying to resonate with him. Smoke: I've stopped caring about what he says a long time ago.

Kenshi ! Mirror Dialogues

You: Do you think if we switch places he’ll notice? You: We have to try that!

You: Your Kenshi has lost his sight too? You: This man really should try to protect his eyes better.

Kenshi: My Y/n died in my timeline. Kenshi: And you think I’ll let you this one?

Kenshi ! At each other

You: You may have lost the tournament but you’re the champion of my heart. Kenshi: *laughs* Since when did you become that cheesy?

You: Here comes the man in black. Kenshi: I know you love it when I wear that suit.

You: I wish I could have been here to protect you. Kenshi: You already do a lot for me, and I can’t be more grateful.

Kenshi: Wait, it’s not Johnny who told everyone I’m the best swordsman in Earthrealm? You: I’m simply sharing my honest opinion.

Kenshi: Don’t go easy on me. You: So, just like last night?

Kenshi: I feel like my past with the Yakuza is haunting me again. You: This time, we will fight together against them, mentally or physically.

Kenshi ! With other characters

Johnny: Have you seen the new hottie? Totally would sm- Kenshi: You don’t want to finish that sentence.

Kung Lao: So, I conclude it wasn’t love at first sight with Kenshi, eh? You: Very funny, Kung Lao.

Johnny: I swear, I didn’t know they were your spouse. Kenshi: Hmp.. as if you care for that.

You: Are you sure you’re up to fight? I wouldn’t want to match my husband. Mileena: Why, wouldn’t that be adorable?

Reiko: Should I steal your magic sword to see how quick you’d die? Kenshi: An angry spouse is deadlier than Sento and believe me, you don’t want that.

You: You’ll pay for what you did. Shang Tsung: I wasn’t the one to blind your lover.

Ashrah: I can only sense sincerity in your lover’s heart. Kenshi: They have helped me in many ways.

General Shao: Once I find your partner, he’ll lose more than his sight. You: Too bad you’ll have to pass over my dead body first.

Kitana ! Mirror Dialogues

You: Do you really think Kitana would fall for your tricks, Shang Tsung? You: I just need to make sure I’m the only one remaining, first.

You: I don’t think I want to share Kitana even with another me. You: How strange, I was thinking the same thing.

Kitana: Y/n doesn’t exist my timeline. Kitana: I wouldn’t be able to imagine a life without them.

Kitana ! At each other

You: How about we go at Madam Bo’s after this fight? Kitana: It will be a pleasure to go with you. I’ve heard only great things.

You: Your fighting is just as graceful as your look. Kitana: Flattery will get you nowhere, beloved.

You: How about a double date with Mileena and Tanya after this fight? Kitana: Are you suggesting that I should date my sister and her lover..?

Kitana: I have lost sight of you in the fight against the titans. You: Don’t worry, we can’t get rid of me that easily.

Kitana: Leading the army can sometime become overwhelming. You: Rest is important even for someone as competent as you.

Kitana: *laughs* Do not fret, my sister does not bite. You: Yes, she does.

Kitana ! With other characters

Mileena: While I respect you if I learn that you’re toying with my sister, I’ll- You: Rip my face apart?

Kitana: Sister, please, trust my judgment on Y/n. Mileena: I’m just making sure of that.

You: Your daughter is truly a wonder. Sindel: She takes a lot from her mother.

Sindel: Is this lover of yours worthy to be by your side? Kitana: I deem them as so, mother.

Raiden: I’m really happy for you and the Princess. You: Is that so? Why do I hear disappointment in your voice.

General Shao: I’ll exploit you and your partner’s weaknesses that is you both. Kitana: You cannot be more wrong, General. We are each other’s strength.

You: Sorry, Cage. Kitana is off limits. Johnny: Not even a small place for a third person?

Kitana: Should I thank you for putting me with Y/n in this timeline? Liu Kang: I did nothing, it was you both who found each other.

‘𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓔𝐍𝐃 Please don’t copy/translate and don’t reblog if you’re a yand3r3 blog/reblog account, or you’ll be blocked. Besides that, likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated.

#mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage x reader #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #kenshi x reader #kitana x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat imagine #mk1 intros #mortal kombat intros #kenshi takahashi x reader #Bi han #johnny cage #kenshi takahashi #kitana

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todayisafridaynight · 2 years ago

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Bro last night was so much......... I'm still reeling...... What even.... They gave us so much. I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready. I didn't KNOW.

Hear me out... Poundmates Jo........ Not a party member but maybe helpful. Him looking soft has me so fucked up. Why is Akane alive. Why is she alive bro. Why does Jo know she alive. Why would he- FUCK dude I'm trying to work but all I can think about is 8

i hope we get poundmates jo and we have to do it pokemon style where we have to beat his ass and then catch him <- delusional

#snap chats #SOOOO many questions....#we were all right akane IS In Fact a bamf for slipping away from the yakuza #why do i feel like she's going to die tho. women dont last long in this franchise and if they do its a miracle #but idk no woman died in y7.... auspicious things me thinks...#please ichi cant lose anyone else. tho i am sus of jo's longevity if solely just because of ttm's career goals...#i mean if jo was willing to research arakawa its only logical he'd stumble upon akane and info about her so #jo's morality is weird. he was cool with putting a baby in a locker but the second he realizes the consequences he spends his life atoning #tho that kids gone now aint it.... guess he's trying to mend the damage he did to akane and ichi ??#or at the very least wants to try to make up for the fact ichi didnt get to be raised by arakawa because of his dumbass #idk i dont know how his brain works we'll just have to see !!!!

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vienssunshine · 9 months ago

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The Girl Next Door

pairing: Makima x fem!reader nsfw/cw: dom!Makima, mind control, mind break, noncon, gore, dark wc: 3.3k author's note: this was inspired by a tiktok cosplay i saw description: a lady covered in blood shows up to your door, just wanting to be let in

With money so tight, moving into one of the small houses in the outskirts of the city was your only option. Though a little rundown, your new home seemed nice enough, cozy and rustic, with your favorite part being how it sits right on the coast. The papers were signed and you could finally breathe a sigh of relief; living in a place of your own, without loud roommates or money-hungry landlords, was just what you needed to get your life back on track.

But then you tried to invite your coworkers over for a small housewarming party. Their smiles fell when you shared your address, and they asked only one question: did you know what went on at the house at the end of the street?

You had noticed it, of course, the house was hard to miss, so large that it seemed like it was always about to teeter and fall off its perch on the cliffside. But it ultimately wasn’t a factor when buying your property, the price point of your small home the primary consideration. The only thing you had noted was the pleasant view it provided during sunset, the mansion-house sitting over the water reflecting the sky’s blend of colors was a picturesque sight. It was only when night fell and the wind began carrying screams through your windows you finally believed your coworkers' once ridiculous claims—that the house was owned and used by members of the Yakuza.

The first few weeks settling in to your new home were difficult. The noises at night haunted you—the rumbles of tires on gravel as cars traveled past your house up the cliff, the raucous laughter during game nights, and the occasional round of muffled gunshots. You’d close the windows and press your pillow to your ear.

Sometimes men would come up to your doorstep, banging on the door to ask for help finding the only house they could be looking for. You’d quickly give them directions, but once they got a good look at you, they’d change the conversation, saying how they could help you out with your living situation, take you to a much nicer place to which you’d have to awkwardly laugh and excuse yourself. You got an additional lock and stopped answering the door.

It took you the better half of one month to learn all you need to know about this place, which is that it’s best to ignore anything that happens outside of your home.

Yet, tonight is eerily quiet. You hadn’t even had to shut the window. Besides the chatter from the show playing on your TV box, there’s only the gentle crash of waves on the shore and the low hum of the wind.

Your gaze wanders from the flickering screen to the open window behind you on the couch. The gap in the trees swaddling your house allows a straight line of sight from your living room window to the front of the infamous property, a sight you once admired. You felt like the biggest idiot in the world when you found out you had just moved into one of the worst areas near the city, but it's not like the place screams “this is a Yakuza house, don’t move here!” In fact, aside from the few cars pulled up in the driveway, the place looks abandoned tonight—all the lights are off, leaving the full moon alone to illuminate the house. It’s a strange sight for a Friday night. The place is usually spilling over with drunk guests on weekends, a chaos you usually can avoid by working the night shift.

Then the front door opens and a figure strolls out onto the porch. It’s not any of the men you’ve seen lurking around before—it’s someone new, a woman.

She doesn’t look like she’s from the area, dressed plainly yet sharp in a patterned button-up, a black tie, and slacks. Most of her hair is pulled back aside from her bangs that frame her face neatly. What could she be doing out there so late at night? Does she not know what goes on at that house?

The woman descends the stairs, stepping out into the moonlight. With a better look at her, the pattern on her shirt sticks out as strange. Dark, red splatters soak her white blouse. Your breath catches in your throat. It looks like blood.

Her eyes flick over to yours. They’re orange and bright with a glow that cuts through the dark veil of the night right into your window.

You duck down onto the couch, curled up into yourself.

She saw you.

You don’t know how it’s even possible, your house is almost a mile away and in the company of the other homes scattered along the treeline that look just like yours. How did she know to look at your house, right at your open window?

Whatever the explanation, you just poked your nose into business you shouldn’t have. Your one fucking rule and you broke it.

You get up and lock your door. Both locks. You test the knob with a twist, and then a yank. When it doesn’t move, you back up and sit down onto the couch, pulling your knees up to your chest. The TV has switched to running infomercials, but the chatter of the hosts is distant and unintelligible, blocked out by each drum of your rapid heartbeat echoing through your head.

Maybe you’re overreacting, letting your coworkers' stories get to you. No, there's something different about this kind of panic—it's instinctual. There's something wrong that you can't place but your body can, even if it can't communicate it back to you.

There’s a knock at your door. You startle to your feet. No, it can’t be her. That’s not physically possible.

“Hello?” A calm voice travels through the door.

It is.

You hurry to the side of the couch furthest from the door, crouching down behind it with a hand pressed to your mouth, eyes locked onto the door you’re absolutely not answering. Maybe she’ll think no one’s home?

“I know you’re in there.”

Shit. Of course she knows, the TV is still playing. You don’t know what to do. You look around, frantically. Is there anything you can use as a weapon? A magazine…an empty cup…a shoe…?

The door you’re certain was just locked—you locked it, both locks—slowly opens, revealing the lady from the porch miraculously standing in the doorway. She couldn’t have run here, her hair still falls perfectly around her face, not disheveled at all.

Her eyes find your crouched form barely protected by the couch. She tilts to the side, greeting you with a polite smile, “Hello there. May I come in?”

You stand up, fingers digging into the arm of the couch. “I didn’t see anything,” you hurry out, “Nothing at all. Please, I–I don’t want any trouble.”

She rights herself before letting her gaze make a round over your body, sizing you up. “You seem nervous,” she observes, “I’m sure a simple conversation can sort this all out.”

“You just want to...talk?” It can’t be that easy. These people, they’re—your mind flashes to the hand, only a hand, that washed up on the shore during your morning walk last week. They’re the type of people to do things like that.

“Yes,” she responds. Her expression remains placid, polite, and completely unreadable. You’re not certain her look would change if she decided to strangle you to death right now.

No, you’re not going to let it end like this, your own stupidity killing you. You will not be a hand on the beach, and you’ll do anything to avoid such a fate. And if it’s a conversation she wants, you’ll just have to make sure you don’t say the wrong thing.

“All right,” you say. “We can talk.”

She steps into the room and closes the door behind her. Then, she leans down to pick up the remote from your coffee table, pressing a button and clicking off the TV. Now it’s just you, her, and the roar of the waves below.

“Sit down,” she says, gesturing to your couch, like it’s hers to offer. Circling around the arm of the couch, you glance over to the window. It’s still open. The cliffside is steep, but if you jumped up on the couch and through the window–

She repeats herself, “Sit down,” and you do. Right, that’s the goal, to talk this out. Coming up with an escape plan would only worsen your stress, it’s easier to just do as she says and hopefully get this whole fuck-up of yours fixed.

The woman sits in the armchair perpendicular to the couch, staining it with the blood on her clothes...it's a lot more than what you could see from a distance and completely removes the possibility of cleaning the chair, you'll have to thrift another one.

She tilts her head, giving you a thin-lipped smile. “I’m Makima, head of the Public Safety Devil Hunter organization. I understand you’re a witness to my involvement in what’s happened up the street.”

You shake your head. “No, I didn’t see anything.”

Makima’s smile falters. “Don’t lie to me again.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Uh–okay. Sorry.”

The smile returns.

“You weren’t supposed to be home this evening,” she asserts.

You furrow your brows. How would she–? “Yeah, I–uh–switched my shift with a coworker. They had something come up last minute.”

“Ah, I see,” Makima says, steepling her fingers. “I hate last minute changes.”

You press your lips together and give an awkward nod. “Yeah.” You’re not sure whether this interaction is going well or not, and that’s not how you want to feel when your life's on the line.

“Well, I find myself in a difficult position.” Makima leans back in the chair. “What I should do is kill you. No one was supposed to see me tonight.”

You knew getting involved in anything related to that house would only bring trouble. Now it’s right here, sitting across from you. You almost break your promise, about to try to convince her that you saw nothing, when she continues:

“But, the standard solution isn’t always the most practical solution.”

“Right,” you add, like your opinion means anything.

She leans her weight onto the left side of the armchair, studying you. “I do love my job, making a difference in Japan and such, but it can be very taxing. Especially when dealing with the animals that were your neighbors.”

Your neighbors. It’s their blood on her clothes. You wonder why you don’t feel so bad about that. Or why you can’t take your eyes off of her, even if she’s soaked in blood. It must have something to do with this eerie pull she has—the more she talks, the more you want to listen.

“I do not get many opportunities to release this stress. Many of the men I work with," she sighs, "are insufficient."

"So," she continues, "instead of killing a pretty girl like you, I think there’s a way to resolve our situation favorably for both of us.” She uncrosses her legs. Your eyes flick down to her spread lap before jumping back up to hers.

“Um, I don’t know what you mean,” you respond, even if the unexpected pulse through your veins contradicts your words. Your body must be becoming confused, all the adrenaline and nerves—your quick breaths, pounding heart, dizziness—it’s beginning to be understood as arousal.

Makima hums. Then, her hands pull the black tie loose from her collar and go to the topmost button on her blouse.

“Wait, what are you–” The button is undone, and your protest fades away at the slightest glimpse of her collarbone. Suddenly, you don’t feel like interrupting anymore. Instead, you sit quietly and watch, transfixed, as each little button pops open in succession, revealing the milky skin and black lacy bra underneath. It’s fucked up that how attractive she looks while undressing from blood-splattered clothing. She shrugs off the shirt and it falls onto the back of the chair, the sight of her exposed torso making your stomach flip.

“Do you understand better now?” Makima asks, a coy lilt in her voice.

You let out a shaky breath, eyes roaming over the curves of her breasts and waist. Her body is heavenly, a miracle it ever landed on Earth. The Yakuza…the blood…it’s all slipping away as she emerges to the forefront of your mind.

“Take my pants off,” she commands, not even looking at you, rather, examining the black tie dripping between her fingers. Though moments ago you were frightened for your life, it’s without hesitation that you fall to your knees in front of her, your nervous hands working to undo the button on her black slacks. You’ve never felt like this before, a sudden desire so strong it’s overcoming your system, but, with a beautiful woman and her flushed face and lowered lids looking down at you, feeling this way is only what makes sense.

“There you go,” she says, helping you slide off the pants. A lacy thong that matches her bra skates high up over her hip bones, making a V that draws your eyes down to the warmth between her thighs. Now unhindered, her scent leaks into the air, and your eyes flutter as you inhale. It's intoxicating, seeping into your system and clouding your mind, making it harder to think, even to move, until Makima’s words cut through the haze. “It’s okay to touch.”

She reaches down and picks up your wrists, placing your hands on the curve of her waist. You shudder, she’s so soft. Your fingertips roam her torso, exploring the curves and dips of her body, sinking into the flesh that gives as you squeeze into it. Then your fingers travel down and hook underneath the straps of her underwear, lifting the fabric from her skin. The reveal of that small patch hidden by the black strings only feeds your desire more, it’s growing much larger than you can handle.

Makima smirks down at you. “Is there something you want to do?” She spreads her legs wider, gifting you more of her to look at.

No, you shouldn’t do anything, shouldn't even want to. Getting involved with her is a terrible idea. She's a murderer, she—Makima brings your fingers to the gusset of her underwear—she—she's so wet for you. Makima guides your christened fingertips to your lips and you swipe your tongue over them, drinking in the saccharine flavor. Those heavy thoughts are soon pushed from your head, leaving you only with your deep want to please.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you answer, looking up to her for permission, eyelids lowered in a desire-drunken state.

“So sweet,” she says, resting the side of her face on her hand, “You may.”

Relief overcomes your chest, so grateful that Makima would allow you to touch her in the way you so desperately want to. She’s so kind, so giving. It’s hard to remember why you were even scared in the first place, now your only fear is to be away from her touch, to live without the warmth her blazing gaze casts upon you.

Makima cants her hips up off the cushion of the chair so you can pull off her underwear by its strings, drinking in the way her wetness sticks to the fabric for a moment after separation. Your hands are on her thighs the moment you rid them of the underwear, fingertips squeezing into the plush flesh. You ease her knees open to get a full view of the dripping cunt before you, the sight of it as glorious as the scent.

You press a kiss to her inner thigh, and then another, but find yourself moving things along faster than usual. There’s a magnetic draw to her center, one that pulls you in between her thighs so before you know it your panting mouth is inches from her pulsing cunt.

“Go ahead,” Makima encourages, “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

You hum your affirmation, unable to fully process the question, too distracted by the desire spewing through your veins; it’s only intensifying, it needs to be acted on.

It’s the moment your tongue touches the sweet nectar dripping from her cunt that any remaining doubt, hesitation, or concern floating around your mind evaporates. The sensation is overpowering, the best thing you’ve ever had to grace your tastebuds, and you instinctively lap at her cunt again, hungry for more.

“So eager, aren’t we?” Makima teases as your hands land on her hips, locking your body in place as you drink in her fluids.

“Yes,” you slur, barely able to get the word out as you lick and suck. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, it’s making your body buzz, your brain drunk.

“That’s good,” she says, “I–ah–I needed this.”

Her praise sends dopamine flooding through your system—she likes that you’re doing this, it’s making her feel good. You like it so much that you’re making her feel good. It makes you feel so good. It’s all you could ever want. What else is there?

You moan into her thighs, wanting to touch between your own, but not daring to release yourself from the pleasure of touching her. It’s like her skin is seeping a toxin into yours, inspiring a reaction that you know you should push down but can’t, only able to sink your fingers deeper into the flesh of her hips, strengthening your body’s connection to hers as you swipe your tongue along her cunt. It’s so warm on your mouth, her folds soft and pliant as they welcome the tongue pushing through them that’s insistent on exploring every inch of her now that you’ve been granted access.

Makima’s hand lands on your head, running her fingers along your hair in slow, even strokes—petting you. Your hips twitch at her stimulation, oh how you love when she touches you.

“You’d make such a good pet,” she says.

Pet. You’d love to be her pet. Worry free, protected, loved. You could leave this whole situation behind you. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, and she could give it to you.

“Please,” you whimper into her warmth, “Make me yours.”

“You want to be my pet?” she repeats, her free hand closing in around the black tie still sitting in her palm.

“Yes,” you murmur, eyes glazed over. In this moment, it’s all you could ever dream about.

Makima grins and leans forward, wrapping her black tie around your neck, tying it, and pulling it tight. Then she sits back, and with a yank, returns you to the space between her legs with her makeshift leash.

“Then keep going, pet.”

You moan and eagerly return to your position between her thighs, eating her out messily, sloppily, like a goddamn animal.

Her fingers tighten in your hair and her head falls back against the back of the chair. “Fuck,” she moans, “That’s a good pet. Good–ah–pet, such a good pet.”

You want to keep being her good pet. Making her feel so good so her chest rises and falls rapidly with her short, uneven breathes and so she pulls at your hair like she is now. You don’t care about the pain—how unnaturally strong her grip is, how tightly her thighs are locked around your head, how the tie is chafing the skin of your neck. None of that matters. The pleasure of serving her outweighs all of it. You’ll give her what she wants, no matter the consequences.

And she only wants one thing right now. So you bury your face even deeper, bringing all your attention to her throbbing clit. Her hips jolt, lifting her aching hole up and you meet it with a finger that you push into her warmth. She clamps around you, pulling your finger into her. You just add another and she takes it too. Your lungs are burning—not having taken a breath yet—but you don’t care. You’d die here if it meant she’d cum. You’d die here if she merely asked you to.

With a low, long moan she seizes on your eager tongue, fingers tight around your leash as she pulls you by it into her deeper. You lick and suck as she cums all over your face, drenching you in her scent, her flavor. Claiming you.

You sit back on your heels, watching her, waiting for whatever she says next. A command follows, “Redress me.”

Like a good little pet, you do, pulling her underwear back up her legs, then her pants. Finally, her bloodied blouse.

“Your clothes are still dirty,” you say, “Do you want to wear mine?” Instinctively you go to pull your shirt up but Makima waves her hand.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Okay,” you say, “And your tie?” Your hands come up to your neck to untie it at her request.

Her eyes flick down to the fabric around your throat. “Keep it as a reminder of who you belong to.”

“I will,” you agree, hands coming back down from your neck. As you lower them, you notice some of the blood from her clothes has transferred over, staining your skin in uneven splotches.

When you look back up she’s halfway out the door. “No one needs to hear about our little encounter. Or anything at all regarding tonight, correct?”

“Of course not,” you respond. Not even torture would get you to betray Makima. You’re hers now.

“Good pet,” she rewards you. The door closes behind her and you walk into the kitchen to wash your hands.

There’s no reason to worry about the house at the end of the street anymore.

#makima #chainsaw man smut #chainsaw man makima #makima x reader #makima x you #makima lesbian #csm makima #chainsaw man #csm

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rantaroamamifuturegf · 10 months ago

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Crushing headcanons!!

A/N: Been playing Dr2 again and Fuyuhiko<3, Fuyuhiko’s one is a bit longer than the others so bc I got too into it and yes spelling do exist in this

Plot: Fuyuhiko & Rantaro & Shuichi crushing on GN!Reader

Characters being used: Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, Rantaro Amami, Shuichi Saihara

Fuyuhiko

He noticed immediately and started to purposely avoid you for his sake of not making a fool of himself in front of you and If he wasn’t able to avoid you he’ll just act like he doesn’t give a shit about you and would purposely be rude to you

Peko would notice this right away but at the first she just assumed that he didn’t like you in general but once she noticed that he would ignore you and avoid you, she knew something was up

She would question him about it and bro would completely shut her down about the thought and tell her you were just so annoying he wanted to not be near you and he thought she brought the excuse

She didn’t buy it for shit

He finally given up and told her about you and his feelings, she would just tell him to confess but he would tell her it more easier when you say it than do it

He obviously shuts her down about the idea of confessing to you and just says he’ll continue to treat you the same way he usually does until the feelings goes away

It never did, if anything the feelings grew more and more

Peko finally convinced him to at least try talking to you normally and he did but he couldn’t help be still be rude to even if he was just trying to start a simple conversation and you replied with a dry answer or was thinking of what to say did too long

It’s just that feels like he’s making a fool of himself seeing you act so calmly while he’s the one freaking out the inside

It did kind of annoy him how calm you were being like why did it had to be him flipping out on the inside and not you

He complained to Peko about it and she told him to practice talking to you like look in the mirror and pretend talking to you or see her as you and try talking to you

He did try it but got to embarrassed and just straight up stopped but right after that he somehow was able to have a normal conversation with you without getting mad or being rude to you

Peko told him to confess to you since he was now finally able to talk to you but he had to remind her he just befriended you and it would be too fast

plus he didn’t know how to but we ain’t gonna talk abt that

He didn’t really bring you gifts or anything that much of the matter but if you both had different classes, he would def sometimes wait for the bell to ring and pick you up from your class and walk you to your next one

If Kaz said anything about the way how he treated you he’ll quickly shut him up before he can even finish his sentence

Might tell you how he’s unsure if he really wanted to take the yakuza life or not since he trusts you and wants your opinion on his thoughts

Doesn’t try to be too vulnerable around you but also doesn’t try to be too vauge with you either

DEFINITELY FOR SURE keeps Teruteru away from you, last thing he want to hear is bro making the unexpected unnecessary perverted theory about you and doesn’t want to see him flirting with you anyways so if you ever question him about it he’ll just say Teruteru is being more perverted today than he usually is

Once he feels ready and once Peko gives him some confidence and says she believes you feel the same way. he’ll confess to you.

Rantaro

Bro didn’t even noticed that he had feeling for you, like he just thought the feeling were just a feeling of being near someone you really care about as a friend but no it more

He wasn’t really used to feeling that way about someone since he usually treated everyone like their his little siblings or just friends or close friends but when he first started feeling this way about you it just didn’t feel like a friendship or family kind of love

Was really confused about it and didn’t want to immediately just to conclusions and believe he has feelings for you so he just kept believing he saw you as just a closer friend than he does to others

That act went on for a bit til you started being physically affectionate in a platonic way, such as placing a hand on his shoulder and sitting a bit more closer to him than usual he kept his cool on the outside but the inside of him was a mess

After mentally shutting out the thought with all his might, he finally came to the conclusion that he had feelings for you and didn’t know exactly what to do with it

He didn’t want to confess right away and just gave the thought some time so instead he’ll start being you small gifts from his travels

Would definitely ask you if you would like to come along and travel with him, and say he’ll bring you to amazing places across the world or just bring to where you pacifically want to go

He would get awkwardly embarrassed if someone called him or said he looked like a womanizer in front of you since he didn’t want to look bad in front of you

Definitely tells you about his sisters and asks if you would like to help him look for them, he would be really happy if you did say yes to it

He would do lightly teasing and say how his sisters would love you and how his family would love you but in the end would call it light jokes or just teasing

He doesn’t know when or how to confess to you so for right now he’ll just hope you’ll eventually feel the same way and once he’s 100% sure you feel the same he’ll confess to you.

Shuichi

He didn’t notice it right away

Like he just assumed you being so nice and caring towards him just made him feel embarrassed and what not so he just ignored the feelings

But they kept coming back and every time when he’s near you and when you complimented him, he can’t but feel a heart warning feeling in his chest and feel flustered around you

Not for long he came to the conclusion that he liked you in a romantic way but he felt really bad for it, he was insecure about himself and how others viewed him while you were someone that everyone enjoys being around and he felt like him having feelings for you would ruin your friendship

So he kept it to himself as pry that nobody will ever catch on

Kaede and Kaito catch on real fast

Kaede was so excited when she founded out he had feelings for you and would telling him to confess right away and would say that both of you look cute together

He was flustered by the idea of him and you being together but the idea of you two being a cute couple just made him feel even more happy of them though

Unlike Kaede, Kaito didn’t tell him to confess right away but instead would try to give Shuichi some confidence about asking you out and would tell him he shouldn’t feel bad for a having crush on you and would tell him to ask you

Obviously he appreciated both of them trying to help him but he told them he wasn’t mentally ready to ask you out yet

If you and him aren’t that close of friends he’ll definitely admire you from afar, will absolutely hate it if Miu or Kokichi caught him and called him out on it

He would sometimes write little love poems about you but would never give them to you and kept it in a small notebook, Kaede would definitely tell him to give it to you or let her give to you. He obviously shut down the idea

If he gets too into a poem and seems really long, he’ll end up reading it later and cringe at his own love notes for you

Kaito would help him out by trying to get you two to become closer friends and would invite you to workouts with him and Maki and Shuichi

Would convince Maki and then purposely leave you and him alone together, bro was not ready to be alone with you and he felt nervous and excited about it at the same time

After Kaito done that over a couple of times more, both you and him got closer and he was actually starting to feel a bit more comfortable and confident when talking and asking you to hang out

He would die happily if you just started physically touching him in a platonic way, just simple gestures like putting a hand over his or sitting closer would lowkey just make his day lol

He wouldn’t confess to you even if he feels mentally right and has the right confidence and feels that you feel the same way because he’ll still have his doubts and think you deserve better so in the end it’s either you confess or he’ll have it wait til some of his friends actually make him do it

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timeslipcamp · 26 days ago

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thoughts on episode 16

vibrating in my seat over a new sinostra chapter I CANT WAIT

typing this as i read it so let's go live reaction!!!

spoilers for episode 16

first of all taiga in a crop top is something i didn't know i needed but now it's all i'm gonna be thinking about forever thanks

SHO BRINGING US LUNCH right off the bat we are truly blessed to see him right away. where's that bingo sheet someone made cross off vagastrom cameo. sho is such a sweetheart ugh. interesting that he encourages us not to talk too much in front of the teachers.

hodge and podge have animations now!! good for them!! however that was completely overshadowed by this lil tidbit

only three months??? thats WAY less time than i thought we had. is the game moving in real time then? or are we going to get back to the loop that much sooner? also i love that the dialogue mentions different things and events that happen off screen. maybe we'll see them in the time loop. shoutout for the warding card though love that

how DID they see us alone in the infirmary? 👀 perhaps a clue as to why hyde's eyes are covered, he can see everything?

also quick shout out to my favorite thing romeo's ever said

lawyers or the yakuza aka ritsu or taiga

WAIT WE'RE GOING TO DIONYSIA????? oh i'm screaming actually i can't be doing this at work

a burglary? the same person who broke into jabberwock maybe?

ITS A FUCKING FREAKY CARNIVAL????

okay this place sucks but i'm kicking my feet and blushing at walking around with the janitor. i don't trust him AT ALL but he's hot idc

interesting that it's only been abandoned for six months, but we've been on campus for nine, and the clash was presumably just a few months before that. also double confirmation that the janitor is elias HELL YEAH. but wtf haru

DIONYSIA HARU holy shit not what i expected. he would be a little circus freak wouldn't he? ngl when they brought up romeo's family i was like "if they mention a sister istg..." but do you think taiga actually hasn't returned haru's calls? or was this him playing up the act again?

dude wait wtf is the winchester mansion doing here hahaha this is so funny. actually no the US branch being incompetent is funny too i like this.

history moment - for those who don't know, the winchester mansion is a real place in california. this mansion was built by sarah winchester and construction continued on the house all the way up until she died. popular myth says she was compelled by spirits to continue working on the house forever. she was plagued with crazy bad luck (family members dying, random tragedies) and another popular myth states that she was cursed because her family created the winchester rifle, and her bad karma was to repay for all the deaths the rifles caused. if you're in cali, highly recommend a visit, this place is huge and SO insane, there's hundreds of rooms. love what they did with this location in the story. might do a whole post on this mansion here later.

anyways

MC responding on reflex to kitten GIRL GET YOURSELF TOGETHER me too though me too...

ritsu is so fucking funny i love this nerd. i missed sinostra man. i do enjoy the brief cameos of other students though. lyca saying "ok bye" was so funny i love that guy

the sinostra turf war was killing me. living in this house would be so exhausting. at least ritsu has the hague convention agreements memorized too 😭

genuinely having the hardest time focusing on the story when this is on screen. wait hold on does taiga have a fake ponytail on lmao. HARD CUT AFTER YOU CHOOSE WHO YOURE ROOMING WITH????

i actually just went back and did that chapter three times so see all the options and they are exactly what you would expect. taigas gonna kill me. ugh

lyca calls him harurin because of rui 😭😭 bro ill cry STOP lyca youre so good bb

taiga im gonna strangle you--are you feeding into my time loop theory or are you just so apathetic that it bleeds into everything???? i doubt that, especially considering evetything this episode points to him knowing more than he's letting on, but he really has been apathetic about everything. ugh

also romeo being pegged as the villain by the hundun....... 👀 inchresting

nvm we literally almost got set on fire

i bet it's after taiga but because of his weird lucky precog thing it keepa avoiding him. god i need to know what his stigma is so bad. "it changed again" he and i are gonna fight istg

hot ritsu moment congrats ritsu stans

hey hold on

this sounds a lot like. the faculty....

the campus was almost destroyed by the ghouls and now theyre being super strict and using severe discipline to keep them in line...

that might be a reach but that felt poignant. hm

also idk if this is important to note or not but ritsu basically has the opposite stigma as haru. makes him harder/heavier while harus makes him faster/lighter/more fragile

anyways the END OF THE EPISODE UGGHHH

literally five hundred thousand thoughts running through my head at the end of that. elias definitely heard and he's about to go tell someone. LOVE sinostra those some ride or dies (heavy emphasis on the die). fuck you hyde i wanna know what you're planning. UGH such a good episode i wish it was 900 hours longer

gonna take an hour to collect my thoughts and then i'll be back with more. love you taiga fuck u

asks and dms always open!!

#tkdb #tokyo debunker #tdb #episode summaries #taiga hoshibami #romeo lucci #ritsu shinjo #sinostra #SCREAMING

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majimaisms · 3 months ago

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@ccile03 has very kindly invited me to give my two (million) cents on this and i wanted to explain, as best i could, how i interpreted majima's character arc in pirate yakuza. however. this post definitely got away from me, so be prepared, this is going to be a LONG one, and it's the most comprehensive analysis i've done of majima as a character to date. i think i just wanted an excuse to talk about the game, honestly

introduction

i think i should start by saying that i think what we see in this game is not an arc for majima in its entirety, but the culmination of one that we had been observing (glimpsing, really) from the sidelines for years. so the question of "what arc did majima have in this game?" is really a question of "what arc did majima have in this series?" and to answer that, we have to start at the beginning.

from the moment he's introduced in the first game, majima is shown to be cynical and nihilistic.

scott strichart, who was in charge of majima's english localization throughout y0-k2 and y6-y7, had this to say about this scene, which i completely agree with:

First, you need to understand Majima's primary motivation - Saejima. Ever since he missed participating in that hit, Majima's singular, driving goal is to give Saejima the opportunity to confront him and exact whatever punishment he feels is appropriate. So Majima sets out from square -1 to get back into the Tojo Clan and gain enough power and position to do that. But as you know, in Y0, he discovers that some costs are too great, which throws his entire life's purpose into question: How do I balance my own sense of right and wrong with the tenacity I must have in order get back into the clan and to Saejima? That answer comes in the shape of three different dudes who give him three different answers to how one is "tenacious" - Lee, who would go to ANY length to protect the ones he loves, Nishitani, who throws his entire self into his pursuit of pleasure, and even Sagawa, who as Majima tells him, is "practically immortal." But what happens to his three paragons of tenacity? Well, you know that answer if you've played Y0. What happens when Majima attempts to take the moral high ground? What happens when he dares to show some modicum of emotion? [...] And the evidence of Majima's mindset in Kiwami is right in the first few lines when you meet him: What's the point of doing the right thing? "Doing things that way is going to break you." But no… that's just a projection. Majima is the one who got broken. And if you've played Y2 through Y5, you see the facade slowly start to fade. It's a really interesting growth of the character.

note the parts i highlighted in bold. we will get back to these later.

i think to understand majima and what this game does for him as a character, you have to understand both his problem and how he has tried to solve that problem. you have to understand his tragedy. and for that, you have to understand the psychological consequences of being part of an organization like the yakuza. the emotional impact it has on your life, on your relationship with yourself, and why. this context informs most of my analysis because i think its inextricable from majima as a character. i will also be heavily quoting simone weil to talk about these ideas, so please bear with me.

1. understanding the problem (and what it isn't)

the thing is, it's not easy to do awful things to other people. it's not easy to extort money from people, it's not easy to threaten them, it's not easy to attack someone when it's not in self defense. it's not easy to be mean. it's not easy to lie, cheat, steal. all of these things have an emotional toll: guilt. now, guilt goes away if you let it, but that has a spiritual toll. but where does that guilt come from in the first place?

simone weil says:

There exists an obligation towards every human being for the sole reason that he or she is a human being, without any other condition requiring to be fulfilled, and even without any recognition of such obligation on the part of the individual concerned.

All human beings are bound by identical obligations [...]. No human being, whoever he may be, under whatever circumstances, can escape them without being guilty of crime; save where there are two genuine obligations which are in fact incompatible, and a man is forced to sacrifice one of them. The imperfections of a social order can be measured by the number of situations of this kind it harbours within itself. But even in such a case, a crime is committed if the obligation so sacrificed is not merely sacrificed in fact, but its existence denied into the bargain.

majima is torn between two incompatible obligations. his obligation towards every human being in the world, and his obligation towards saejima. whether or not his obligation to saejima is a genuine one is a matter of interpretation (as in, whether or not he was really responsible for failing saejima. i think there is merit to his sense of responsibility regarding this, but that's another post) and an important distinction to make, but the fact remains that it registers to majima as a genuine one.

weil also says:

There is a reality outside the world, that is to say, outside space and time, outside man's mental universe, outside any sphere whatsoever that is accessible to human faculties. Corresponding to this reality, at the centre of the human heart, is the longing for an absolute good, a longing which is always there and is never appeased by any object in this world. That reality is the unique source of all the good that can exist in this world: that is to say, all beauty, all truth, all justice, all legitimacy, all order, and all human behaviour that is mindful of obligations. Those minds whose attention and love are turned towards that reality are the sole intermediary through which good can descend from there and come among men. Although it is beyond the reach of any human faculties, man has the power of turning his attention and love towards it. Nothing can ever justify the assumption that any man, whoever he may be, has been deprived of this power. It is a power which is only real in this world in so far as it is exercised. The sole condition for exercising it is consent.

now, you don't have to agree with any of this, but i will be using this framework and language to make my points because i find it useful.

what this all comes down to is that "moral behavior" is not something done only for the sake of others, and that in fact there is no distinction between the sake of oneself and others. you cannot hurt others without also hurting yourself in some way. my analysis rests on this key point.

weil says that corresponding to these human obligations, we can identify a number of human needs, some of which have to do with the physical side of life (like food, shelter, security) and some of which have to do with the moral side.

They form, like our physical needs, a necessary condition of our life on this earth. Which means to say that if they are not satisfied, we fall little by little into a state more or less resembling death, more or less akin to a purely vegetative existence.

she says that human collectivities (family, country, organization, etc.) fulfill these needs. the collectivity that majima is part of is the tojo clan and in a broader sense, the yakuza. they are not part of civil society, but as weil notes, their obligations towards people outside of the yakuza are not lessened by this fact, and anyone whose attention and love is turned towards "good" is aware of this. so they feel the full weight of these obligations. majima feels this weight.

we can see here that majima is being driven by a need, a need that corresponds to his obligations to other people. he calls it "being a man", weil calls it "being mindful of obligations."

weil has identified some of these needs, which she calls "the needs of the soul", as follows:

HONOUR is a vital need of the human soul. [...] honour has to do with a human being considered not simply as such, but from the point of view of his social surroundings. This need is fully satisfied where each of the social organisms to which a human being belongs allows him to share in a noble tradition enshrined in its past history and given public acknowledgment.

For example, for the need of honour to be satisfied in professional life, every profession requires to have some association really capable of keeping alive the memory of all the store of nobility, heroism, probity, generosity and genius spent in the exercise of that profession.

Initiative and RESPONSIBILITY, to feel one is useful and even indispensable, are vital needs of the human soul. [...] For this need to be satisfied it is necessary that a man should often have to take decisions in matters great or small affecting interests that are distinct from his own, but in regard to which he feels a personal concern. He also requires to be continually called upon to supply fresh efforts.

PUNISHMENT is a vital need of the human soul. [...] The most indispensable punishment for the soul is that inflicted for crime. By committing crime, a man places himself, of his own accord, outside the chain of eternal obligations which bind every human being to every other one. Punishment alone can weld him back again; fully so, if accompanied by consent on his part; otherwise only partially so.

i find this language and framework for talking about the concepts of virtue, guilt, redemption and how those things tie into one's professional and social life very useful when exploring the relationship rgg characters have to the yakuza and to themselves.

i will be focusing on these three needs for now because i think they are where the crux of majima's struggle lies. not only majima, but every yakuza who feels the weight of human obligations. because the work they do as yakuza does not fulfill their need for honor, and the crimes they commit by not fulfilling their obligations (as they are exploiting and profiting off innocent people, depriving them of their vital needs) creates the need for punishment. this is part of why we see these characters go to prison so willingly.

being yakuza means effectively denying one's own need for honor. this compels these characters to remedy this by clinging to whatever amount or kind of honor they can maintain. it's this cycle that keeps them going, that pushes these characters to commit the extraordinary acts of heroism we admire them for. it's because they are driven by the need to make up for something. for being yakuza.

weil says:

[...] a collectivity has its roots in the past. It constitutes the sole agency for preserving the spiritual treasures accumulated by the dead, the sole transmitting agency by means of which the dead can speak to the living.

she says that the need to be rooted is the most important need of the soul, and that being part of a collectivity, a "social organism" as she calls it, and having active participation in it is the only means of fulfilling this need. yakuza are no exception. RGG's consistent theme of carrying on the dreams of others is a form of "the dead speaking to the living", that is to say, a form of fulfilling the need for roots – which by the way is the name of the book these excerpts are from.

Every social organism, of whatever kind it may be, which does not provide its members with these satisfactions, is diseased and must be restored to health.

There are collectivities which, instead of serving as food, do just the opposite: they devour souls. In such cases, the social body is diseased, and the first duty is to attempt a cure; in certain circumstances, it may be necessary to have recourse to surgical methods. With regard to this matter, too, the obligation for those inside as for those outside the collectivity is an identical one. [...] Finally, there are dead collectivities which, without devouring souls, don’t nourish them either. If it is absolutely certain that they are well and truly dead, that it isn’t just a question of a temporary lethargy, then and only then should they be destroyed.

the yakuza, by measure of the number of situations it creates where incompatible obligations have to compete against each other, is a deeply imperfect social order. but as weil notes, sacrificing obligations and denying their existence are distinct compromises. "guilt goes away if you let it" – this is where that distinction lies. to free yourself of guilt, you have to deny the existence of these obligations, and so deny your own need for punishment. and the spiritual toll of that exchange is pragmatism, which weil describes as "spiritually crossing a boundary equivalent to death."

she says this about denying the existence of obligations:

Actually, such a negation is impossible. It amounts to spiritual suicide. And Man is so made that in him spiritual death is accompanied by psychological diseases in themselves fatal. So that, in fact, the instinct of self-preservation prevents the soul from doing more than draw closer to such a state [...]. Almost always, he who denies all obligations lies to others and to himself; in actual fact, he recognizes some amongst them. There isn’t a man on earth who doesn’t at times pronounce an opinion on good and evil, even if it be only to find fault with somebody else.

many yakuza try to avoid guilt (and the need for punishment) by denying the existence of human obligations. simply put, it's a way of running from accountability.

but guilt is not the reason for majima's struggle with this. majima has already decided that he is not going to cross that spiritual boundary to avoid guilt, because he understands that the consequences would be nothing more than a self-betrayal. he has too much respect for the truth to lie to himself like that. his "longing for an absolute good" compels him to accept his need for punishment. and he is not confused about what he thinks is right or wrong.

yakuza 0 was not about majima trying to decide whether or not killing an innocent girl was wrong. he knew it was wrong. it was about whether or not it was worth it to kill an innocent person. if he had been grappling with whether or not murder was wrong, it would've been equivalent to "spiritual suicide" as weil calls it. but he never denies the existence of such an obligation on his part – he never pretends it wasn't wrong to kill a defenseless civilian.

and his takeaway was that it was not worth it. it was not worth it to kill makoto to fulfill his obligation to saejima. he sacrificed his obligation to saejima, but no "crime" was committed in this process because he did not deny the existence of his obligations towards anyone. his need for honor was not sacrificed, and thus no self-betrayal took place. once again, denying human obligations is synonymous with self betrayal in this framework.

majima simply will not do something that he knows he will regret later out of guilt, and he takes care to predict what he will feel guilty about so as to avoid this outcome. his judgment regarding this remained solid throughout y0, even if it wavered at times.

another example of majima being torn between two genuine obligations was in y5.

this scene is remarkable to me because it's the only other time, aside from y0, we see the consequences of majima "daring to show a modicum of emotion." his obligations are being used against him. the "longing for an absolute good" in his heart is being used against him. because in order to fulfill his obligation to saejima here (to not put him to the same impossible choice), he would have to sacrifice a much more universal one, as well as a personal one to kiryu. and then how could he "call himself a man"?

saejima tells him that if he was the kind of person who would let haruka die, he would've killed him anyway. but this doesn't stop majima from still being apologetic in this scene – he still feels the weight of his responsibility to saejima, even if they are in agreement that it should be sacrificed. the existence of both obligations are acknowledged, thus no "crime" takes place, just like in y0. once again, we see that majima's problem is not in denying the existence of obligations.

majima's struggle here has to do with how to prevent things from coming to a point where he has to sacrifice obligations in the first place. this was his takeaway from y0. the obvious answer to this is to quit the clan, but it's too late for that. he already did that and just ended up going back. his obligations to the people in his life (saejima, kiryu) and his need for roots keep him tied to the clan.

so, what does he do instead?

2. understanding the "solution"

this is where we return to scott strichart's comment.

"How do I balance my own sense of right and wrong with the tenacity I must have in order get back into the clan and to Saejima?"

it's misleading to think of his obligation towards saejima as something to be balanced against his sense of right and wrong, as strichart puts it – in reality they are one and the same. the fact that he has to be tenacious is merely an extension of his obligation towards saejima.

more importantly, this is not a question of what moral philosophy to subscribe to, or anything that has to do with speculative reasoning. the singular question majima is struggling with the most in his life is a question of "how" – it's a question of methods.

majima has always been primarily concerned with methods. he is someone who locks onto ends and produces means to achieve them. this is what makes him resourceful. he gets his way, because he finds and makes a way. he is all about getting results.

but strichart's question is only half of majima's problem. the other half comes from his answer to the first one: "by preventing situations in which i will find myself having to choose between obligations."

majima, like strichart, has identified correctly that these situations arise only when he "dares to show a modicum of emotion." thus, the goal should be to simply stop doing that. but how is he going to do that? what method should he choose for that?

his answer to that question is mad dog. this is an answer equivalent to "whichever method works." because the factors that he takes into consideration when trying to formulate an answer for that "should" are concerned entirely with the effectiveness of the method. in other words, majima's mistake is that he doesn't think what he thinks is right or wrong should be the most important deciding factor in determining his methods for preventing situations where he has to sacrifice obligations.

it is, ironically, his dedication to solving this problem without sacrificing either obligation that makes him cross that spiritual boundary. because you see, this too is a form of pragmatism. he's essentially trading one form of spiritual death for another, and so he is still stuck in the cycle of honor and punishment. because methods are not exempt from human obligations either, yet he is denying the existence of those obligations. their existence is "denied into the bargain." pragmatism is the justification for this denial. "the world doesn't give two shits if there's a point or not, so it's better if i don't either."

weil understood the crucial role methods played:

Everything in creation is dependent on method, including the points of intersection between this world and the next.

"the next world" she is referring to is the one she says is the source of all "good" in the world. she is concerned with how to align her methods with her obligations, which is itself a problem of methods.

to majima as well, the most valuable resources in the world are methods that are effective and align with his obligations. why betray himself like this if he can avoid it? and he learns methods from observing people. this was why he ended up following shimano. this is what his "men i respect" thing is about. he means, "people i can learn something from."

but despite being already disillusioned with shimano's methods by the time he dies, he's never been able to successfully replace them with anything else. unable to find anyone around he could learn from, he has resorted to compromise. he decided he couldn't afford to commit to aligning his methods with his obligations. he has prioritized his continued survival and success in the yakuza because of his obligation to saejima, at the cost of his soul. mad dog is the product of that exchange. mad dog is the solution, the justification, the lie.

this is a sacrifice he has had to make because of the social order he exists in. this is why the yakuza is a "diseased" social organism, as weil calls it. this aspect of the yakuza and majima's views on it were explored in majima saga in k2.

let's take a look at majima's methods:

you might note, at this point, that all of these things are things kiryu would never do.

this was what fascinated him about kiryu. because kiryu is suggesting there is a right and wrong method, and not only that, he's saying it's a factor that should be considered, that deserves our attention and love, and we should be mindful of it. he's the embodiment of the principle that we can't justify denying our obligations. this is what he admires kiryu so much for – that he is not betraying himself in the way majima has. he has things to learn from kiryu, and that is what majima respects most above all else.

kiryu represented a solution to his self-imposed spiritual exile. however, this solution was not as straightforward as you would think.

fighting has always been a form of communication, of debate, in RGG. when majima and kiryu are fighting, these are the conflicting ideas that are being tested against each other. and he wants kiryu to prove his methods wrong. because he hates his methods. he realizes he's fighting for the wrong side, and he wants everything he represents to be defeated. to be able to be defeated. and he trains and mentors kiryu specifically for this purpose. he has made himself into a mascot of this spiritually vacant philosophy, but at least he can offer its enemies (which includes himself) something that would effectively function as a training dummy. he is giving kiryu the opportunity to know his enemy. this is a noble goal. it justifies the continued existence of mad dog.

this was a method he thought would work. it's pretty clever, you have to give him that. but in fact, it's only another instance of the two incompatible obligations problem. he's fulfilling his need for honor and punishment, but he's failing to fulfill his need for responsibility towards kiryu.

he needs to make up for this ongoing failure, so the series is full of examples of him going out of his way to help kiryu (y2, y3, y5, iw and now pirate yakuza). as weil said, majima "requires to be continually called upon to supply fresh efforts" for his need for responsibility to be fulfilled. he's glad for the opportunity to help kiryu. he needs kiryu to need his support. in simpler terms, he wants to be useful. he feels this need as it corresponds to his obligations towards kiryu, which are identical to his obligations towards anyone, but which he feels more keenly with kiryu because he's stuck in this cycle of honor, punishment and responsibility, trying to make up for the lack of one through fulfilling the other. and it's specifically tied to kiryu because he can only fulfill his need for honor/punishment through kiryu, because kiryu is the only one strong enough to defeat him in a fight. and yet he is failing his other obligations to him in the process BECAUSE of his method.

it would not be too much of an exaggeration to say that the integrity of majima's soul rests in the balance that is the conflict between himself and kiryu. this is why this conflict cannot end. it will remain self-perpetuating so long as they both remain mindful of obligations. they are yin and yang.

let's go back to scott strichart's comment again.

And if you've played Y2 through Y5, you see the facade slowly start to fade. It's a really interesting growth of the character.

while i agree with this, it should be noted that even though majima's facade slowly fades, nothing substantial takes its place. he literally dies in yakuza 5, and he is reborn as nothing more than a mascot, a symbol, a boss fight as far as the games are concerned. just as he was in kiwami. his methods do not change, because he still can't afford to change them. because he is still yakuza.

but he is feeling the emotional and spiritual toll of continuing those methods.

he doesn't have it in him anymore to keep up the act, to prop up mad dog to act as an interface between himself and the world around him.

note here that majima is the perfect visual representation of a dead thing – he's literally wearing the skin of dead animals, and "majima goro" is the first among them. the fact that he is narratively dead in y5, a game about dreams where everyone has an honest job is really, really on the nose when you consider things in these terms.

but y5 does a spectacular job of reminding majima why he needs to stay dead, why he chose to avoid emotional attachments and obfuscate the ones he does have in the first place. if it weren't for an impossibly unlikely chain of events, either haruka would've died or saejima would've had to kill majima. majima doesn't want to risk anyone being put to that choice again. kurosawa's whole plan hinged on the fact that he identified this as a weakness in majima that he planned to use against him – and it almost worked.

this is what he risks happening every time he has conflicting obligations. every time he "shows a modicum of emotion." he has enemies who will use it against him to hurt his loved ones. so even if he is disillusioned with mad dog, as long as he cannot think of a better method of preventing this, he needs to keep up the act. his "solution" has become another cage he finds himself in, because he can't escape the bigger cage he's in: the yakuza.

this is not a problem unique to majima. any yakuza mindful of their obligations struggles with similar problems, because it's the yakuza as an organization imposes this problem on them. it devours souls. this was why it needed to be destroyed.

3. the dissolution, and pirate yakuza

you would think that being out of the yakuza would finally solve a bunch of these problems for majima (and saejima and daigo.) instead, this is the state they're in.

because they understand that they were not the only ones who gave their souls to the clan. there were thousands of others, and those thousands joined the clan because of them. because of the promises they made. it is their responsibility to honor their men's sacrifices and their own promises by taking care of them after the dissolution, but they have no way of fulfilling their need for responsibility, honor or punishment as it concerns their obligations to these people.

the shame, guilt and helplessness is really setting in as they are forced to face their failure. and the sacrifices they made along the way? they have nothing to show for any of it. all the justifications, all the self-betrayals, all the compromises. the obligations they sacrificed. the people they've hurt. this is where it all culminates.

this is how lost they are, how lost majima is – he seems to be doing the worst out of the three of them – in the absence of any methods to reconnect to and do right by the social organism he's part of, his roots. they are cut off from any means of helping the people they used to lead and feel responsible for. they are uprooted.

weil says:

Uprootedness is by far the most dangerous malady to which human societies are exposed, for it is a self-propagating one. For people who are really uprooted there remain only two possible sorts of behaviour: either to fall into a spiritual lethargy resembling death [...] or to hurl themselves into some form of activity necessarily designed to uproot, often by the most violent methods, those who are not yet uprooted, or only partly so.

Whoever is uprooted himself uproots others. Whoever is rooted himself doesn’t uproot others.

majima, saejima and daigo fell into the former category. it is a testament to how mindful they are of obligations that they did not fall into the latter.

kiryu tried to break them out of that spiritual lethargy in infinite wealth, reminding them of their obligations. remember what i said earlier about kiryu being the "embodiment of the principle that we can't justify denying our obligations"? this is him doing it again, as always. and this was the single most life-affirming thing he could do for them.

on the growing of roots, weil had this to say:

The problem of a method for breathing an inspiration into a people is quite a new one. [...] It is unfortunate for us that this problem, in regard to which, unless I am wrong, we have nothing we can look to for guidance, should be precisely the one that requires today the most urgent solution on our part.

she identified the problem of growing roots as a problem of methods of inspiring people. on this, she wrote:

It sometimes happens that a thought, either formulated to oneself or not formulated at all, works secretly on the mind and yet has but little direct influence over it. If one hears this thought expressed publicly by some other person, and especially by someone whose words are listened to with respect, its force is increased an hundredfold and can sometimes bring about an inner transformation. It can also happen that one needs, whether one realizes it or not, to hear certain words, which, if they are effectively pronounced, and in a quarter whence one would normally expect good to come from, infuse comfort, energy and as it were a food.

just as this was the case with kiryu in infinite wealth, it is the case with noah in pirate yakuza.

violence is a tool. majima has always viewed it as such, but here noah is telling him that not only is it a tool, he doesn't think it's an inherently bad one. he thinks it's cool. he is radically accepting of majima in a way he has never experienced before.

we know that majima has had a complicated history with violence. he hit his wife and left her. he's been using it as a method to keep his subordinates in line for years – something he ideologically does not agree with, but has accepted as a necessary sacrifice. it's not a coincidence that the first thing majima remembers about himself is his guilt surrounding his violence – guilt enabled to become manifest in the absence of his justification, in the absence of mad dog, which had acted not only as an interface between majima and the world, but between himself and his own needs. everything was filtered through mad dog.

but instead of condoning violence via majima's philosophy of pragmatism, which majima has used as a justification (a lie), noah is offering him a way out of the dilemma he's been stuck in for decades. he suggests that as long as you're fighting for the right thing (which majima is in this case), violence is a perfectly acceptable method that does not constitute a crime, and thus, should not create a need for punishment. it's reassuring to majima in exactly the way he needs. it's also something no one else in his life could reassure him about, because they're too busy feeling guilty about their own violence. only someone who is truly "innocent" could absolve majima of this guilt.

majima's face in that last shot is all the evidence you need for its impact. this is what he's needed to hear his whole life, and it would not have had the same impact coming from anyone other than a child. and it had to be this specific child, because:

To no matter whom the question may be put in general terms, nobody is of the opinion that any man is innocent if, possessing food himself in abundance and finding someone on his doorstep three parts dead from hunger, he brushes past without giving him anything. So it is an eternal obligation towards the human being not to let him suffer from hunger when one has the chance of coming to his assistance.

this was the model on which weil based her theory of human needs and obligations, because it was "the most obvious obligation of all." it also happens to be the opening scene of pirate yakuza.

noah's attention and love is demonstrably turned towards human obligations. he is also notably the only person around who has fulfilled this most obvious of obligations. majima himself acknowledges this, saying he "never thought hawaii would be so cold."

noah represents an ideal for majima that he has aspired to his whole life: innocence. this is why he is inspired by noah. the "method" of inspiration in question that majima had been lacking comes to him in the form of a person. and it had to be a person, because majima has always been inspired by individuals. and not only majima, either. RGG as a series is full of examples of this.

It is only through things and individual beings on this earth that human love can penetrate to that which lies beyond.

it's our connections to individuals that remind us of our obligations towards every human being. love becomes universal through the particular. weil understood the important part love plays in motivating people to change. it was her answer to how to grow roots again – her answer to the question of how to inspire people.

it is precisely this form of inspiration that majima had been deprived of for decades, especially after the dissolution as he'd sunk into depression. and this was always the solution, but there were several obstacles to it prior to this game:

he could not afford to have personal human connections in his life, even after the dissolution. he'd learned the hard way what happens when he "dares to show a modicum of emotion," as scott strichart put it.

as long as he was still relying the same tools, he could not effectively change his methods. this game forced him to do that by taking away his favorite tool: mad dog.

even if he wanted to use his violence only for the right things, he had obligations to the clan that would have him using that tool for less-than-noble ends.

because of this, even after the dissolution, he was stuck in the cycle between honor and punishment which obfuscated the truth and confused him. and there can be no inspiration without access to truth.

all of these problems were imposed on him by the social order he was part of – namely, the yakuza. this is why its dissolution was a necessary prerequisite to majima's "growth", but it was still not enough on its own. the amnesia was the second prerequisite.

he needed to face his past, but for that to help him in any way, he first needed to be inspired, so that he could look back on events with a new perspective. and the amnesia was the prerequisite for the inspiration, because it reduced the weight of his guilt and thus his need for punishment, breaking the honor-punishment cycle.

what this game is for majima is an exit. it's an exit from the emotional and spiritual exile he's imposed on himself, that the yakuza has imposed on him, and the self-alienation he's suffered because of it. amnesia is what it takes for him to be reunited with himself. he had to forget who he is so he could be who he is. such was the extent of his self-betrayal.

within the space provided him by this exit, there is room for change. transformation. for majima, that means changing his methods. this game is addressing a problem he's been aware of for decades but could not do anything about.

some examples of him facing his past with this new perspective:

he's realizing what he was to these people, who looked up to him, who he allowed to look up to him, who he took upon himself to lead – and he's hating what he sees. he doesn't like his methods. and he's running from the responsibility of doing right by them, refusing saejima when he asks him to go back.

he's afraid of facing how much he's failed his subordinates by his own standards – a reality he'd lived with for decades before his amnesia. the fact that we actually see how much it bothers him in this game is invaluable, because it means he's letting himself acknowledge that. he can no longer rely on the lie (justification) he had been telling himself to sustain this self betrayal. he is disillusioned with his own pragmatism. noah has exposed the lie, and he allowed it to be exposed. he is now ready to take right and wrong into consideration when deciding his methods – all because noah has reminded him of his obligations in a way that commands his attention, in a way he can't turn away from, and because he no longer has to sacrifice his soul to the clan. this game is, effectively, undoing the spiritual death he had undergone.

he's outright calling his old self, his old ideas, his old methods, "dumb as shit." majima is reinventing his identity, his reputation, his presence in the world and his connection to it. he's been given a chance to become someone he can be proud of again – this is why he likes the way noah looks at him, why he doesn't want to give up on it. it motivates him to commit to his transformation instead of wallowing in guilt like he was in infinite wealth.

he's getting to do it all over again with noah in a way he himself actually approves of, with a clear conscience. not just because noah is a kid, not just because he's lost his memory, not just because he's not yakuza anymore, but because of all those things in combination. that is to say, none of these factors are arbitrary. they were each necessary for achieving this state for majima – a state where change is possible, and he is inspired to change.

"captain majima" is someone he can be proud of.

he rejects his legacy as a yakuza completely. this goes as far as rejecting his bond with saejima. he doesn't want to be called "kyoudai" by him, he'll only answer to "captain." as he's coming to terms with how much it went against his nature to be yakuza, he's trying to distance himself from it as much as possible.

but he's running. he's not trying to run from his responsibilities to the yakuza like saejima thinks – he's running from owning up to his legacy. this is why he pretends to still not have his memories back when shigaki confronts him.

but it's not just the yakuza: the nebulous entity that told them that. it's what majima told them. it's what majima built his legend around.

yakuza 0 was not a game of positive character development for majima. it was the story of how and why he learned to betray himself. it was the origin story of his justification, his nihilism. it was the birth of mad dog. and this game is the counterpart to that – the death of mad dog.

One of the indispensable foods of the human soul is LIBERTY. Liberty, taking the word in its concrete sense, consists in the ability to choose.

the mad dog legend wasn't something that majima stumbled upon against his will like kiryu's dragon of the dojima legend. majima built this. he wanted this. he was trying to rise in the ranks (for saejima), and his legend is what it is because he was so, so wary of being taken advantage of. not only out of his own need for liberty, but out of the obligation he feels towards everyone else. this is the price of turning yourself into a weapon: you have to be very, very careful who you allow to wield you, and towards what end. that becomes your responsibility.

this was why majima was apologetic in that y5 scene – he had failed to prevent kurosawa from using him, and he understands that it is his responsibility to prevent that. this is why the mad dog legend is what it is. he had to find a way to "tear his leash" so that no one could wield him.

but his own preoccupation with freedom, his fear of being used by others, this fight he's been fighting against himself for decades has made him a bad role model. he's finally facing that, and not only that, but he is remedying it, too.

his own unhealthy treatment of himself, his own betrayal of himself, has done actual harm to others. his own misjudgment has led people who looked up to him astray. and he should've known better. done better, been more.

he should've been the one inspiring his subordinates, he should've been the one reminding them of their obligations. instead he has created a legend that has done just the opposite. a legend that has given people another excuse to deny their obligations. because that legend was born out of majima's own excuse for denying his own obligations. THAT is majima's failure. he has failed others in the exact same way he has failed himself. it could not have turned out any other way.

he has failed as a leader, as a patriarch and he's acknowledging that. but that on its own doesn't do much in the way of helping him. this game is about majima stepping up to not only hold himself accountable, which he already HAS been doing, but to do something about it. holding yourself accountable for mistakes you just continue to make or cannot begin to make up for is the very definition of being stagnant. this is the "state more or less resembling death, more or less akin to a purely vegetative existence" he was in for pretty much the entirety of the series, reaching its peak in infinite wealth when he had been cut off from all means of effectively taking responsibility.

and he is finally being given the opportunity to take responsibility – a vital need. he is being given the opportunity to undo the damage, to guide them towards a better path, to remind them of their obligations. just like kiryu.

majima, in true kiryu fashion, is telling these people exactly what he himself needs to hear – needed to hear, and that noah made him realize the moment they met. he is being given a second chance. an opportunity to redeem himself, to START redeeming himself. start over. and he's paying the same kindness forward. if it's not too late to for him to start doing the right thing, then it isn't too late for shigaki either, and vice versa.

[...] man has the power of turning his attention and love towards it. Nothing can ever justify the assumption that any man, whoever he may be, has been deprived of this power. [...] The sole condition for exercising it is consent.

majima understands this, and he understands that applying this principle to shigaki necessitates that he apply it to himself also. a person can always, always choose to do good – not only that, they are compelled to at all times. it takes energy to resist it. this was what caused his burnout in y5 and arguably y4 before that.

this game is about majima taking responsibility for his legacy as a yakuza, much like kiryu did in infinite wealth. this is what they're using his amnesia for. a story about him wallowing in guilt or trying to fulfill his need for punishment would have been the opposite of growth for majima, because the whole problem was that his method of trying to achieve personal growth through honor and punishment had not been working for him. a radically new approach was required. you can't fix something with the same tools that broke it.

just as his own neglect of his needs had caused the problem, the solution also comes from fulfilling those needs for himself. he has to stop betraying himself in order to make things right with the people he's failed. to take responsibility, he has to give up mad dog.

this does not necessarily mean giving up violence, but it does mean using it as a tool for ends that do not conflict his needs. a good example of this is the scene where he threatens to cut fingers.

it's his last resort, not his first one. he is being given room for that now. it's important to note here that he is not threatening to cut fingers to punish someone for insubordination as he has done his entire life – instead it's in the name of ensuring cooperation between others (a noble goal), for something he has no personal stake in. he doesn't want any of the money, he refuses to take a cut of it. he is not playing the antagonist here, and he is very open about his intentions unlike the "old" majima goro who obscured his intentions at every turn for the sake of playing the antagonist.

y0 was the last time we saw majima so earnest, because it was y0 that taught him not to be earnest. this game is undoing the damage.

[...] complete, unlimited freedom of expression for every sort of opinion, without the least restriction or reserve, is an absolute need on the part of the intelligence. It follows from this that it is a need of the soul, for when the intelligence is ill-at-ease the whole soul is sick.

sure, he didn't hold his tongue against his superiors, we've seen him do it countless times throughout the series. but to be able to openly express his goals, his intentions, his own judgment and act accordingly is a previously unthinkable mode of living for majima.

once again, it's about methods, and this game IS the difference between methods, especially as it concerns communication.

it's the difference between "if adults like us are good for anything, it should be nurturing that hope" and "keep that up, and it'll break you." him establishing himself as an ally, instead of an antagonist. he has played the antagonist his entire life, because it was the only way he could think to fulfill his obligations, but the world doesn't need more antagonists. and he's been failing not only his subordinates or himself, but kiryu and everyone else he loves as well.

this is what this scene in infinite wealth was about. majima's methods are destructive, not only to everyone he cares about, but also to himself – because there is no difference between those things. such is the nature of love.

majima finally, finally gets to play the hero after a lifetime of playing the antagonist. he's taking the leaf out of kiryu's book that he couldn't until this point, that he so admired kiryu for. it's a dream come true for him – maybe the oldest one he had.

and in some ways, this is also majima carrying on kiryu's dream, by applying the lessons he learned from him. by emulating him, he's honoring kiryu's principles. he'd told him, all the way back in 1995, that he'd "see those ideals of his to the end." well, this is what that looks like in its most effective form.

this ending really says it all, in my opinion, because it's majima looking at the journey and finding joy in that instead of the end goal. for ONCE in his life. maybe for the first time in his life. because for the first time he is ABLE to do that. for the first time there is something to enjoy about the journey. he is so unconcerned with results here that he doesn't even take the money.

he has been so, so preoccupied with reaching his goals that he has sacrificed the journey, the "methods" and betrayed himself in the process his whole life. this is where it stops.

[...] honour has to do with a human being considered not simply as such, but from the point of view of his social surroundings.

i think it's fair to say that his new methods and outlook on life are here to stay.

conclusion

this game is no joke. it's the most beautiful and profound thing they've done with majima... ever.

to be honest, whether or not most of this should be called "growth" is debatable – i think it can be said instead, more accurately, that growth was not the point of this game. the point of this game and how significant the things it does for majima lie beyond "growth". its value comes from the fact that it fulfills needs for majima that he had not been able to for decades.

majima's problem was not that he needed growing. his problem was that he had been in spiritual exile for 40 years. pirate yakuza was not just "upbeat", it was a celebration of majima being reunited with his soul. and as any celebration ought to be, it was joyful and inspiring. the light tone of the game is not because it is lacking in depth, but because the nature of the subject matter lends itself to hope more than anything else.

a game that was conceptualized as an infinite wealth gaiden had to deal with these themes. to tie the loose end that is majima, so to speak – to give a satisfying conclusion to his arc we'd been observing for years. just as infinite wealth was about kiryu's relationship to the yakuza, this game is about majima's relationship to the yakuza and the yakuza's relationship to him. it cannot be thought of separately from infinite wealth and what it was for kiryu. pirate yakuza and infinite wealth are the yin and yang to each other, just as majima and kiryu are to each other. majima has always been, before and above all else, a narrative foil to kiryu. this game is no exception, they're just changing how they're exploring that in the narrative. it's almost like an inversion of what the series has done with the two of them so far, but still united in one theme above all else: hope for the future.

whether or not these themes have been done justice in execution is entirely up to you to decide, so you can still be disappointed with how the game dealt with them – after all, a method still has to be effective to be a good one – but i hope i have been able to give you some perspective on what this game accomplishes with majima as a character.

thanks for reading <3

#i want to note also that the 'got a reputation to protect' line is 'who do you think i am?' in japanese #pirate yakuza in hawaii #majima goro #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #if anyones made it this far: you are so so brave for reading all of this and i love you #tldr: if youve ever been like 'majima needs to go to therapy'. this game is it #they fixed majima. they did it #my analysis #majeem #majima gaiden #dont ask me the word count of this post btw. i checked. its. not good

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hoo-n-i-ki · 3 months ago

Text

Cold One. (Chapter 3)

Only when death looms do regrets surface.

PAIRING - Volturi!Riki x Cullen!fem!reader

GENRE - Twilight AU

CHAPTER WC - 7337

WARNINGS - Vampires, shapeshifters, graphic violence, cursing, plot heavy. Mentions of death + organized crime. Brief cameo of villain shapeshifter Enhypen. (This is a complete work of fiction and is in no way a representation of Riki or Enhypen).

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

Once the shock wears off, Misora lunges at her brother.

At the Mind Stealer. At the most devastating angel—despite the eyes of a demon.

You watch as your new best friend moves, driven by over a century of pain. She slams into him with all her inhuman strength, knocking him back, snarling like a feral creature.

And the Volturi guard? He stands as he is, and takes it, despite the likelihood that he could overpower her.

“You left us!” She roars, but her voice is ragged. “We thought you were dead! We thought the Yakuza killed you after you stole all that blood money and left it on our doorstep!”

“I’m sorry.” His apology drips with sincerity. But his words fall onto deaf ears.

“But in reality—this is where you were? Off playing assassin for those parasites? Do you know what you did to mom? If you thought she lost it when she lost her husband, you should’ve seen her when she lost her son.” She laughs bitterly, a cackle so loud it sends the birds flying off the treetops. “She used up part of the money you left us to throw you an elaborate sōshiki, to honor you, and even though there was no body, she cried at your memorial stone for weeks.

“Weeks, Puppeteer, weeks!”

Misora starts screaming. Actual, gut-wrenching screams.

And him? If vampires could cry…

“Jasper, how about you calm her down?” Carlisle whispers to him on your side of the clearing.

“Let them keep going,” Edward interrupts. “He deserves it for using his power against Bella 19 years ago. Any Volturi bastard deserves it.”

“But he’s with us, now.” Carlisle says.

“No he isn’t. He’s with Misora. And…” Edward throws a momentary glance at you, almost contemplative or confused. But he doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I only left to protect you from myself, I swear—“

She punches him, square in the stony jaw.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare swear a single thing to me, because I’ll never believe you, anymore.” Her chest heaves. “You swore that our family would always be together. But guess what? You left. You’re not even the son our parents raised, anymore. Mom, dad, Konon, they’re all gone.” She lifts her arms in exasperation. “I was almost gone, and I was excited to finally see my big brother again, but I got hit with the curse that you so openly embrace.”

He kneels.

“Miso, please, hear me out.”

“I will never,” her voice breaks, “ever be your Miso again!”

She starts shouting in Japanese, but he simply watches with furrowed brows.

It’s like he… forgot his mother tongue during his time with the Volturi.

He lost his identity.

She keeps going. He keeps kneeling. The Cullens keep curiously watching.

And you keep wishing to intervene. But it’s not your place.

Until Misora’s voice tires, and finally stops. She stares at him for a while, heartbreak radiating off of her skin. She recognizes her brother, but she doesn’t know him at all.

She turns to re-enter the Cullen house, you follow her, and the Cullens follow you.

You turn to the angel one last time, and he’s still on his knees with his eyes cast downwards.

The family tries to calm down Misora by giving her a bag of O-.

“(Y/N)?” Esme turns to you with the second blood bag in hand.

You shake your head. You haven’t drank in a week. You feel weak, but you don’t wanna give in—not to human blood, at least.

There’s nothing wrong with you that you’re so unable to ingest animal blood, whereas the Cullens are able to.

Right?

“No, thank you. I wanna give animal blood a try again.”

Esme nods with a sympathetic smile. “Just drink this so you can be strong enough to hunt with us next time, then?”

You sigh and take it with a grateful nod.

A couple sips. Just a couple sips.

Hm.

It’s not as warm as it is fresh—straight from the source—but it still has the sweetness no deer or mountain lion can replicate.

Your fingers tighten around the bag and your fangs ache the more it floods every single one of your senses.

It’s an addiction, but you can control it. You can. You have to—because you refuse to relive that shame.

You tell yourself that this is just closure. Just one last drink. You certainly need it in more ways than one.

It’s just so easy.

But you’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You’ve never chosen the easy way out—so when you’re done, you force yourself to pull it away for the final time, even as your throat burns as though it’s upset at saying goodbye.

Misora turns to you. “You’re sure you can do the deers with the sliminess in their blood?”

You trade a glance, and the two of you burst into miserable laughter.

“I’m not sure about anything, anymore,” you scoff.

The two of you sit in a distracted silence whilst the Cullens split off—washing away the remnants of the morning. So you take the opportunity to slip outside.

You weave your way through the trees, feet silent against the damp earth. Something in your gut tells you he’s still here. It’s not logic—it’s instinct. A quiet pull in your chest that you don’t quite understand. You don’t know why you’re doing this. You don’t know him. His scent isn’t familiar like the Cullens’ or Misora’s—it doesn’t pull at any memories or feelings of safety.

And yet, there’s something about him. Something magnetic. Something that urges you forward, despite every rational part of you telling you to turn back.

And then you see him.

Riki kneels at a small creek’s edge, staring into the water like it might hold all the answers he’s lost. His reflection wavers, distorted by the gentle current, but he doesn’t move. He’s unnervingly still—too still, even for a vampire. And his cloak is discarded on the ground, beside him.

For a moment, you just watch.

It’s strange, isn’t it? That you followed him here. That your feet carried you straight to him. You shouldn’t be here. He was sent to kill you, wasn’t he? And now, with Jane and Alec gone, the Volturi will come for him.

And that should scare you. It does scare you.

But you don’t turn away. Instead, you step closer.

“This place… it reminds me of home. There’s a creek behind our old neighborhood in Okayama. My sisters and I used to play there—before everything changed.”

He exhales sharply, gaze still fixed on the water.

He heard you… or maybe he felt your presence, the way you did his.

“Volterra isn’t like this. It’s stone and shadow. Cold. The only water runs through the underground tunnels, and it reeks of death.”

The sound of his voice settles into your bones the more he speaks—a deep, rich tenor that seems to hum through the air itself, and it lingers even after his words have faded.

Yet, when he speaks now, there’s a quietness to it, a vulnerability beneath the depth of his tone.

It shouldn’t be so mesmerizing. He shouldn’t be so mesmerizing.

But the way his voice brushes against your senses—it’s like gravity itself shifts, pulling you closer.

You smile softly as you near his side. “Misora never talked about her old life.”

He shrugs. “It was a tough life, I don’t blame her. And pretty sure I only ended up making it worse, no matter how much I thought I was doing good at the time.” He looks down for a couple of seconds, then back at the water. “I never spoke about it either.”

“Well, pretty sure the company you kept isn’t the type where you sit in a circle sharing secrets while you braid each other’s hair.”

He laughs.

It’s quiet at first—just a short exhale through his nose, like he’s caught off guard by the amusement creeping in. But then it deepens, a low, rich chuckle that rumbles from his chest and melts into the evening air. It’s unpolished, like he isn’t used to laughing anymore, like the sound itself has been buried beneath years of blood and duty.

And it’s… warm. Unexpectedly warm, considering everything about him should be cold. You shouldn’t be wondering how someone who has done such terrible things could sound so human when he laughs.

But you do.

He quiets down and continues. “Not just that. I didn’t want to remember, because I knew that the memories would never stop haunting me if I let myself dwell on the past. It worked… even though it was at the expense of everything I’d ever held dear to me. Until now.” He sticks a tongue in his cheek. “And now? It feels like I’m drowning in everything.”

You hesitate for a moment, studying him as he stares into the water, lost in something only he can see. His words hang between you, heavy and raw, like he’s only just realizing the weight of them himself.

And then, before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Why are you telling me this?”

His jaw flexes. For a second, you think he won’t answer. That maybe he regrets saying anything at all. But then, he exhales sharply through his nose and finally turns to look at you.

His eyes—so red, so beautiful, so unreadable—search yours like he’s trying to find the answer in them before he even speaks.

“I don’t know,” he admits, voice quieter now. “Maybe because you’re the only one who doesn’t look at me like I’m already damned.”

You nod thoughtfully, and turn to gaze at the waters, trying to see what he’s seeing.

If he was truly damned, he wouldn’t have betrayed the kings for the sake of love.

There’s humanity in there, somewhere. Perhaps you’ll be lucky enough to get to slowly uncover it as you uncover your own.

The silence you share is not awkward. It’s peace.

“You were right, by the way. I did hesitate. And maybe that cost me everything. But it feels like I gained something, instead.” He scoffs. “I definitely didn’t gain Misora back. Hell, I deserve everything she threw at me—because I don’t even know how to be a brother anymore. I just…”

You turn to face him fully, the weight of his words pressing into you. You can see the conflict in the tense set of his shoulders, the way his hands rest loosely at his sides, as if he’s unsure how to move forward.

“You got some closure?”

For a long moment, he doesn’t speak, doesn’t even move. His eyes flicker to yours, and when rubies meet bloodstains, there’s an intensity—something raw and searching.

His gaze holds you captive, and you’re not sure if you’re the one who’s getting pulled in or if it’s him. Maybe it’s both. It’s like the world itself has narrowed down to just the two of you.

“Maybe I’m just trying to figure out how to be someone who’s worth trusting again.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile. “She’ll come around. You just have to prove to her that she can trust you again. And hey, you have all the time in the world to do that, right?”

He chuckles dryly. “If Aro doesn’t kill me by tomorrow.” He shrugs. “I’m not sure she’ll be able to look past the past 200 years, though.”

“You might’ve known the Misora from back then, but I know the Misora now. I genuinely do believe she’ll forgive you one day. She might be cynical and great at holding a grudge, but she is crazy loyal. Just try to live long enough to see her loyalty, okay?” You try to laugh.

He smiles with those plump lips. “I was sent here to kill you. Why would you want me to live?”

You pause. Why indeed. “Because it would make my best friend happy, and you didn’t kill me, now did you?”

“Is that it?”

You both fall into a charged silence, and for a fleeting moment, the world feels like it’s holding its breath.

Something stirs inside you. Maybe it’s the lingering threat of danger, or maybe it’s the unspoken understanding between you two that you don’t know how to name.

You can’t hold his gaze for long. The intensity is too much, like it’s pulling you into some unknown abyss. Had you still had a beating heart, the pulse would thumping in your ears.

“I don’t know,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. The truth.

He nods slowly, eyes never leaving yours, and it’s as if he understands—like he knew you didn’t have an answer, but he needed to hear you say it. For a moment, there’s nothing but the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the soft gurgle of the creek before you.

Then, you both get the urge to move at the same time. As you do, your hand brushes against his, and it’s a fleeting touch, but it’s enough to send a jolt of electricity up your spine.

You don’t pull away immediately. Your eyes flicker down to where your fingers are lightly grazing against his skin. Riki’s eyes shift to your hand, then back to your face, his expression curious. But there’s something in the way his lips twitch upward, just slightly.

You pull your hand back, awkwardly, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The connection remains, thick in the air, heavy with unspoken words.

You both start walking, and you try to fill the silence, trying to let your mind wander away from the ending conversation you just had, but it keeps coming back.

“So,” you ask, breaking the quiet, “you planning to stick around at the Cullens’ place for a while?”

Riki scoffs, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he walks beside you. “Highly doubt Carlisle would let a Volturi into his home, even if his daughter does vouch for him.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not his daughter.”

The words are out before you even think about them. But then they land heavier than you expect. You hadn’t really thought about what it meant to not have parents ever since you entered your… current state.

You slow your step, the sudden weight of the memory crashing into you. Your parents. Their deaths. The vampires who took them from you. What would they think of you now? What would they think of where you are, who you’ve become—who you’re standing next to?

The thought is suffocating, and it almost stops you in your tracks.

Riki’s footsteps falter slightly beside you, and when you glance at him, his gaze is far off, focused on nothing in particular. His brow furrows in quiet thought.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I can’t help but wonder what my parents would think of me. If they could see me now…” His voice trails off, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you once again. You’re sharing something, without ever having to say it.

You understand that neither of you can change the past, can undo what’s been done. But you both have to keep going.

You force yourself to shake off the dark thought and turn your attention back to Riki, the smile creeping back onto your lips. “Don’t worry about it. Carlisle’s good with lost causes. You’ll fit right in.”

He glances at you, that same quiet amusement flickering in his gaze.

But it falls once you step up to the edge of the property. You follow his gaze—to where his sister sits in the living room, exposed by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“On second thought, I’ll go occupy myself with something else.” He gulps. “Thank you for your… kindness.”

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Riki walks away, and he doesn’t stop until the lights of the Cullen house disappear behind the trees.

It’s better this way—that’s what he tells himself.

But the weight in his chest doesn’t agree.

He tells himself Misora is safer without him, that she’s better off not facing the repercussions of what he’s done. He tells himself he didn’t leave because he was afraid of her reaction to seeing him again.

But that’s a lie.

He is afraid.

He saw the way she looked at him. That uncertain betrayal, like she was trying to make sense of the person in front of her. Like she didn’t recognize him.

Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she never will again.

Because the brother she remembers—the one who looked out for her, protected her, stayed by her side—he doesn’t exist anymore.

The person standing here now?

He’s a murderer.

The words taste like blood, metallic and bitter.

He doesn’t regret it. Alec and Jane deserved to die.

But the Volturi won’t see it that way, because they don’t care the way he does. The members of the Volturi all have their mates with them, and that’s all that matters to them.

He’s never had a mate… but today struck him with the loneliness and seclusion he’s been in for 200 years, and when faced with impending death, he wishes he went about everything differently.

They’ll come for him. That much is certain. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. But eventually.

No one kills the Guard and walks away unscathed. Not even the Volturi’s most prized possession. In fact, they’ll probably be more eager to kill him, considering his position.

He knows too much.

So why does he still feel like he lost something else, tonight, besides his life?

He exhales sharply, shaking his head.

Misora will be fine. The Cullens will protect her.

And (Y/N)…

His steps falter.

Her face flashes through his mind—eyes steady, voice unyielding. She spoke to him like he’s a person. Not just the boogie monster of vampires. He’s been somebody else for centuries, now, but for a moment… he felt like Riki Nishimura.

He laughed.

She looked at him like he was more than just his sins. Like there was still something left worth saving.

Stupid.

He scoffs under his breath, pressing forward. She’s just a reckless newborn. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She doesn’t know him.

And yet, that brief moment with her is the only thing that doesn’t feel tainted by the rest of tonight.

His fingers twitch at his sides.

Stupid, reckless, exquisite newborn.

But none of it matters.

Not her. Not Misora. Not this useless ache in his chest.

Because soon, the Volturi will come for him.

And when they do, there won’t be anything left of him to mourn.

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Morning light filters through the trees outside, casting soft, shifting patterns on the Cullen house’s pristine walls. The peace feels deceptive—something you haven’t had since turning.

And then Rosalie, standing by the door, lets out a sharp breath.

“You’re going to want to see this,” she says, unfolding a piece of parchment.

It’s the blood-red V emblem imprinted into the wax seal. It’s the same logo on the letter itself.

You’ve seen it before, months ago in Carlisle’s office.

Back then, it was a warning about the tiger shifters. A very vague warning, because there’s nothing actually in it for them. It wouldn’t have affected them or their authority if the Cullens were killed by the Baekho clan.

This letter, though, leaves no room for interpretation.

“To the Cullen Family,

It has come to our attention that one of our own has chosen to defy us. Riki, a member of the Volturi Guard, has committed an unforgivable transgression. The breach of our laws cannot go unpunished.

We understand that he may be under your protection, but we warn you—this is not a matter to be taken lightly. His actions will have consequences, and we demand that you return him to us.

Bring us the boy.

Failure to comply will result in actions that will not be limited to just the one who defies us. You may believe yourselves untouchable, but know this: the Volturi do not make threats. We make promises.

Consider your next steps carefully.”

You’ve barely read the words before Misora’s exhale, barely more than a whisper, breaks the silence. “Riki…”.

She’s already on her feet before anyone can react, moving toward the door like she’s running on instinct.

“Where are you going?” Jasper asks, stepping into her path.

“To find him.”

You speak before you even realize it. “I’ll go with you.”

Misora hesitates for only a second before nodding.

Once outside, the cold air bites at your skin—not that you mind. You don’t speak at first, just move quickly through the trees.

But where would he go? Misora seems to be as aimless as you are.

Then you remember him at the creek. Quiet, lost in thought. So water is nostalgic to him.

“Should we try the Goldstream River?”

Misora shakes her head. “No. That doesn’t make sense. Riki isn’t… he isn’t that person anymore.”

“Then where would we find him in this entire town?”

Misora doesn’t have an answer, but this is the only idea, the only lead you’ve got.

So you run.

The forest blurs around you as you race toward the river, branches whipping past, footsteps quiet against the undergrowth. And then, finally—

There he is, in all his shimmery glory.

Riki stands at the water’s edge, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the slow-moving current. His expression is unreadable, but something about the way he holds himself—shoulders stiff, jaw tight—tells you that brain of his has not quieted down.

Misora exhales sharply, and glances at you, then back to him.

You just watch him for a moment. Misora doesn’t think he’s the same person she used to know, the brother that played with her by the water. But this is where he always finds himself.

Misora freezes, and she can’t bring herself to move closer. He’s noticing, though. You can see the red of his irises in the corner of his eyes watching, waiting, hoping.

Well, you hope that you’re enough.

“Riki,” you start, stepping forward. “You need to hear this.”

He doesn’t turn, doesn’t shift from where he stands. But you see the way his fingers twitch at his sides. He’s listening.

“The Volturi sent a letter,” you continue. “They’re demanding that we hand you over.”

Misora flinches beside you, but Riki… he just smiles. It’s small, barely there. A resigned kind of thing.

“Of course they did.” He finally turns his head to glance at you. “It was only a matter of time.”

Something about how calm he is unsettles you. There’s no panic, no urgency—just this quiet acceptance, like he’s already laid himself at the Volturi’s feet in his mind. Like he’s been waiting for this moment all along.

“You don’t have to do this,” you tell him, stepping closer. “The Cullens—Misora and I—we’re not going to let them take you.”

His gaze flickers, but he shakes his head. “You don’t understand. This isn’t a fight you can win.”

“That’s not your decision to make.” Your voice is steady, firm, and that surprises even you.

He looks at you then—really looks at you. Eyes scanning, searching, trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing standing here, offering him something no one ever has.

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“Absolutely not.”

The words hit the air like a slap, and Riki flinches, though he doesn’t show it. Edward stands rigid, his gold eyes dark with what Riki knows is a mix of disbelief and fury.

“You can’t seriously think we’re going to risk everything for you,” Edward continues, voice low and harsh. “I don’t care how much we owe Misora or care about (Y/N). We’re not going to stand by you when you’ve already made it clear how little you think of us,” Edward spits out, the words laced with a sharp edge. “All you’ve done is hurt people, Riki. You were there when the Volturi wanted to kill Renesmee. You don’t get to walk in here and expect us to fight for you.”

Expect them?

He never expected a single thing. The only thing he’s expecting is death.

It’s just that (Y/N) let him hope. He really should’ve known better.

His guardian angel who for some reason decides to speak up. “If he dies, it doesn’t change what he did. It won’t undo the blood on his hands.” She narrows her red eyes at her gold-eyed family. Because the way they stand together? This really is a family—regardless of whether or she accepts it.

And he… is envious.

“But this isn’t about the past. It’s about the present,” she continues. “I thought you guys don’t leave someone behind, not someone who needs us!”

Carlisle, who had been quiet up until now, finally speaks. “The moment that letter arrived, we were already implicated. The Volturi made that clear—we’re in this, whether we like it or not.”

The words settle over the room like a cold realization.

Still, Misora doesn’t move. She hasn’t said a single word since they returned, standing with her arms crossed, watching it all unfold. But now, finally, she steps forward.

“Why should I fight for you?” Her voice is quiet, but the bitterness in it is unmistakable. “You never fought for me during this life.”

Riki exhales slowly, his expression unreadable. “Misora…”

“You stood by and let me believe I was abandoned,” she continues, the edge to her voice sharp. “I fought to keep myself alive. I’ve already done more than I needed to by deciding to warn you.”

She laughs bitterly, but there isn’t a single glint in those crimson eyes of hers. The eyes that used to hold nothing but mischief are now all sorrow, and it’s his fault.

But like she said, she did warn him. Does she want him to live long enough to make things right?

Carlisle exhales. “I understand why none of you want to fight, and I’m not asking anyone to put themselves in danger.” His gaze lingers on Riki before moving to the others. “But that doesn’t mean we do nothing.”

“So, what?” Rosalie crosses her arms. “We just watch from the sidelines?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Silence stretches, thick with tension.

Alice shifts, arms wrapped around herself. She looks at Riki, then at Edward, then finally at Carlisle. “I’ll try to see what Aro’s planning,” she says, closing her eyes.

Riki watches the crease form between the psychic’s brows. Her fingers twitch at her sides. Seconds pass.

Then Alice’s entire body tenses.

“I… I don’t see anything.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. Her hands curl into fists as her golden eyes snap open, wide with disbelief. “It’s blank.”

The words freeze the room.

Riki stands with his body taut, trying to plaster on that mask of indifference he had screwed onto his face back in Volterra. It would be easier to block everything out—to feel nothing and not care that no one is willing to fight for him. He wishes his sister’s bitterness didn’t pierce so hard, and didn’t remind him of all the years he let slip away. The numbness was so much safer—it prevented him from disappointments. But now? With Alice’s vision going blank? He realizes that it’s all too late.

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A week passes. A whole week, and still—nothing.

The Volturi don’t come. There’s no sign of them, no whispers of their approach, no ominous figures in the distance. Just silence.

It’s like the entire purpose of the letter was to put everyone on edge. And it worked. Even Alice, who has spent the past few days trying and failing to see anything, looks unnerved. Every conversation in the Cullen house circles back to the same thing: Why haven’t they come yet?

You don’t have an answer. No one does.

But in the meantime, you force yourself to focus on something you can control.

The animal blood still doesn’t taste right. It never will. Even the hunt doesn’t fill you with the adrenaline rush you used to chase for three whole months. But you drink it anyway, pushing past the revulsion, the longing for something richer, warmer, stronger. Every time you force it down, you remind yourself why.

You lost your way and became the very creature you resented your entire life. You let yourself forget that when you woke up with red eyes, let yourself believe the hunger was all that mattered. Even now, part of you still wonders if it’s too late—if you’ve already crossed a line that no amount of restraint can erase.

But if you can’t bring back the lives you’ve stolen, then maybe this is the least you can do.

Still, you miss it. The chase, the thrill—the way Misora used to grin at you right before the hunt began, sharp and wicked. But you hunt with the Cullens now.

Misora still chooses human blood, but she doesn’t hunt here. The Cullens made their treaty with the tiger shifters clear: no human blood within Victoria. So she vanishes for hours at a time, returning only when the hunger is sated, and you don’t ask where she goes, so that it doesn’t trigger your cravings.

Riki, on the other hand, appears to be too… dejected to hunt. He’s only drank a single blood bag so far, courtesy of Carlisle, just enough for his eyes to not turn black. But he did try out a coyote that Emmett dragged back to the lot a couple of days ago, and he didn’t look as disgusted as you’re certain you still do.

You’re perched on the back steps of the Cullen house, staring at the trees beneath the grey clouds when you hear him approach.

“You’re changing,” Riki says. His voice is quiet, not quite neutral, but close.

You glance at him. He’s standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, eyes unreadable as they flicker over your face.

“What?”

He gestures vaguely. “Your eyes. They’re not as red as before.”

You blink, momentarily thrown off, before realization settles in. He noticed something so little. You lower your gaze, staring at your hands.

“Well.” You shrug. “I never liked the red much, to begin with.”

Riki doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, there’s only silence between you. It’s not uncomfortable, not really. It’s just how things have been. He doesn’t seek you out, but he doesn’t avoid you either. There’s a strange in-between that you’ve both settled into—where he doesn’t push, and you don’t pry.

But now, he stays.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. He looks as beautiful as always—messy dark hair, sharp features. And yet, something is different. Maybe it’s the way his shoulders don’t hold the same rigid tension, or how his expression isn’t completely closed off.

He almost looks… lost.

You watch as he shifts his weight, debating sitting down next to you.

Until he does.

“Is it a you hating vampirism kind of situation?” He asks calmly.

“I hate… what it reminds me of.”

You tell him everything.

Your memory of your parents’ death. The rampage you went on up until a month ago. All the while, he doesn’t judge. Certainly not the way you’d expect red-eyed royalty to—or at least, the direct subordinate of royalty. He just takes in what you have to say, the red of his eyes warm.

After a moment, he runs a hand through his soft hair. “I get it,” he says, voice quieter than before. “The whole… hating what you are thing.”

You blink, caught off guard.

He doesn’t elaborate immediately. Instead, he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, gaze fixed on the woods ahead. “Back in Volterra, I used to tell myself it didn’t matter. That I’d already lost everything, so what was the point of feeling bad about it?” His jaw tightens. “But then, at some point, I stopped having to tell myself. It just… was.”

“So what changed?” you ask, because clearly, something did.

He hesitates. Then, his lips curve into something that isn’t quite a smirk, isn’t quite a frown. “I saw the very reason I begged to be turned, again. I was killed, and then I was almost drained, but I begged the vampire I woke up to to save me somehow. I just wasn’t aware that by being saved, I would end up having to leave everything behind.”

You look at him, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. It’s not avoidance, exactly—it’s something else. Like he’s letting you in, just a little, but not enough to be exposed.

Little does he know, you were in a very similar position. Except you didn’t have a family to leave behind, you just had to let your career go… but in turn, you gained a family.

“I don’t wanna leave people behind, anymore, as long as they’ll have me.”

Instead, you huff a soft breath, nudging his arm. “Careful, Riki. That almost sounded sentimental.”

That earns you a glance, a glimmer of amusement in his expression. “Guess your coven rubbing off on me.”

“You wish.”

The corners of his full mouth twitch, just slightly. And you notice. You always notice. And you can’t help but stare.

But your gaze drags his to your lips, as well.

Until the creak of the door breaks you apart, so you re-enter the house.

Carlisle steps in, his footsteps a lot more… guarded than usual.

And in behind him comes Dr. Park.

You haven’t seen him in months. Since that night.

“(Y/N),” Carlisle starts, his lifted eyebrows almost telling you to be wary. “Dr. Park here wanted to check on how you were doing.”

Riki gets the hint and walks away, away from the brown-eyed man.

“Dr. (Y/L/N), how lovely it is to see you!” His tone is cheerful, but his eyes flicking between your blood orange ones are uncomfortable. Assessing.

“How are you holding up?” he asks, in a tone that suggests he’s genuinely curious—but something about it feels calculated. He gives you a sympathetic smile, but you’re in no position to trust it. “I can only imagine what a change it’s been for you, adjusting to this… new lifestyle.”

You tense, but you force a smile. “I’m managing.”

Dr. Park shifts, and though he’s trying to act casual, his body remains rigid. “I must apologize again for what happened that night… with the tiger shifters.” He holds up a hand, as if to stop you from interrupting. “I know it wasn’t just a simple accident. It was my responsibility, and I—” He pauses, then looks at you like he’s about to offer a kind gesture. “I never intended for any human to be hurt.”

He doesn’t regret attempting to kill Carlisle. He regrets the outcome.

“I’m sure you’ve been through a lot, with… everything you’ve had to give up,” Dr. Park adds, his gaze flicking to your hands briefly. “Family, friends, everything that you once were.” His words are soft, almost too soft. “But you should know that as soon as you build up your self control , if you ever want to come back…” His voice trails off, leaving a silence in the air.

Riki, standing off to the side, frowns slightly. You catch the flash of annoyance in his expression, but he says nothing. Misora, too, watches from the living room—her similar expression making her appear more like Riki’s twin than just his sister.

Carlisle steps in. “She’s doing fine, Dr. Park.”

“Of course, of course.” His smile falters for just a moment before it returns to its practiced warmth. “I just thought I’d offer my assistance.”

He turns toward the door, clearly not wanting to overstay his welcome. But his gaze lingers near the living room for a second longer than necessary.

But you might have hallucinated it.

Just like how the next day, when night falls, you start hallucinating a tiger’s roar. Because there’s no way Dr. Park would violate the treaty for no reason, right? Right?

You, the Cullens who aren’t out hunting, and Riki all share curious glances.

They heard it too.

A low, rumbling growl that wouldn’t belong to any vampire or human. It carries through the trees, deep and guttural, setting every nerve in your body on edge.

Riki hears it too. You see it in the way he tilts his head slightly, listening—then in the sharp flicker of his gaze toward the door. The two of you move almost at the same time, stepping outside alongside Carlisle and the others.

And that’s when you see them.

The tigers.

Your entire body locks up before you can stop it. The world narrows, sharpens—too bright, too loud, too familiar. The way they stand, the way their muscles coil like they’re ready—

It’s just like that night.

Your fingers curl into fists at your sides, nails biting into your skin. You try to force yourself to stay still, to ignore the way your throat tightens—but then Riki shifts.

At first, you think it’s just him moving closer to get a better look. But then, without a word, he steps in front of you.

It’s subtle. Casual, even. He doesn’t bare his teeth, doesn’t snarl like he’s challenging them—he just exists between you and them, a silent blockade.

“What is this, James?” Carlisle calls out to the woods. The man isn’t actually around, but who else could be commanding the shifters?

The amber-eyed tiger steps forward. You remember him—Jay, Dr. Park’s son. The one with icy eyes, Sunghoon. The largest, Heeseung.

And the one who attacked you, the one currently standing at the back but is the fastest, regardless. Jake.

Then shadows shift behind the tigers.

“Ah, how lovely to see you all again. I do hope we aren’t intruding.”

A voice that’s all warmth and poison.

A man you’ve never seen before steps out, with his long, brown hair and black and red coat, followed by a taller man with similarly dark hair and a blonde man.

Gasps ring out near you. Riki tenses in front of you. And you know his name right away.

Aro.

The one Misora once told you is the worst of them all. Thank goodness for her that she’s currently away from Victoria, hunting.

Alice takes a hesitant step forward, flanked by Jasper, her anchor. “So that’s why I couldn’t see you coming,” her voice shakes. “You were hiding behind shifters.”

Aro’s smile widens at that, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Ah, dear Alice,” he muses, tilting his head slightly. “You always have been quite the gifted one. But yes, it seems our little allies here have provided quite the convenient cover.”

His gaze flickers toward the tigers, then back to you. His expression is unreadable, but the way he looks at Riki, and then you behind him—like he’s peeling back your layers, examining you from the inside out—makes your stomach churn.

The tigers remain silent, their eyes fixed on you. And you truly wish that Edward is here to read their thoughts. It’s clear they don’t like standing alongside the Volturi, but they’re tolerating it. A temporary truce.

“We have a truce with the Baekho clan.” Carlisle’s eyes flicker from the shifters to the Volturi.

“Your treaty was nullified the moment you allowed the boy and his sister to stay in your town,” Caius growls.

“And so,” Aro’s quietly delighted voice rings, “we formed our own treaty with them. Kill the red-eyed, and they’ll never have to see us in Victoria again.”

A slow, creeping chill settles into your bones.

Aro watches you carefully, but there’s something particularly pleased in the way his gaze drifts to Riki, his fascination clear.

“How curious,” Aro muses, almost to himself. “That the very one who was sent to eliminate you is now your shield.” His gaze flickers between the two of you, lingering on the way Riki’s posture remains stiff, unwavering.

Riki doesn’t move. He doesn’t react. But you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

Aro’s fingers twitch at his side, as if the urge to reach out and confirm what he’s seeing is almost unbearable. “Riki, Riki, Riki,” he sighs, tilting his head. “I must say, you continue to surprise me. First, you slaughter my dear Jane and Alec. Then, you desert us. And now?” His eyes gleam, lips curling upward. “You protect the very newborn you were sent to destroy.”

His voice is almost admiring, like Riki’s betrayal is nothing more than an interesting puzzle to solve.

Riki shifts slightly, but he still doesn’t move away from you. “Not my problem if you sent me on a job I didn’t finish,” he mutters. “Guess you should’ve picked someone else.”

Beside Aro, Caius stiffens, and Marcus—who has remained silent this entire time—finally lifts his gaze, watching with interest.

Aro, however, just laughs. Soft, entertained, yet there’s something razor-sharp underneath it.

“Oh, Riki,” he sighs, almost fondly. “You misunderstand.”

He takes a small step forward. Riki doesn’t back away, but you can feel the way his muscles tense.

“You didn’t just fail your assignment,” Aro continues, his voice dropping into something softer, silkier. “You abandoned your family—your true family that has been with you for centuries. You took the lives of our own.” He claps his hands together gently, though the sound is eerily hollow. “That is not something we can simply forgive.”

The threat lingers in the air like poison.

Riki still doesn’t move.

Aro hums, his gaze flickering back to you. But I must know—” His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing in thought. “Where is your accomplice? His lovely sister?”

You keep your expression carefully neutral. You cannot let him see an ounce of concern.

Aro studies you for a moment longer, then sighs. “Ah, well. No matter. We’ll find her in time.”

His focus shifts back to Riki. And this time, the amusement slips, leaving something far colder in its place.

“You do understand, my dear boy,” Aro murmurs, voice quiet but unyielding, “that deserting the Volturi is a crime punishable by death?”

The moment Aro speaks, the air changes.

It’s subtle at first—a shift in the atmosphere, the way the trees seem to stand still, listening.

For the snarl. Low and rumbling.

The tigers move first.

Jay lunges, a blur of muscle and fur aimed straight for Riki. Thanks to his vampiric speed, he’s able to shift his weight, sending them both tumbling.

You stumble back just as Sunghoon and Jake launch forward. Jasper intercepts Sunghoon, the impact sending shockwaves through the ground, while Jake barrels toward you.

For half a second, you freeze.

Not again. Not again.

The memory punches through you—Jake lunging in the dark, his weight crushing you, claws digging in.

But then—

Riki.

He rips himself free from Jay’s grasp, and in a blink, he’s in front of you again. His fingers twitch at his sides, and the tiger freezes in the air, until he falls backwards. The massive body jerks like it’s being pulled by invisible strings, and Jake snarls, trying his hardest to to break free.

But the Puppeteer is far too practiced.

And then the Volturi join.

Caius moves first, aiming for Carlisle. He’s fast—but Carlisle sidesteps him, forcing him off balance just long enough for Alice to charge in. Jasper and Sunghoon are locked in a brutal exchange of claws and limbs, neither gaining the upper hand.

Riki is facing both Jay and Jake at once, switching between combat and his own power, since it appears two minds are his limit.

And you move.

The heavily striped one, Jungwon, comes at you, but this time, you react. He lunges, and you drop low at the last second, sweeping your leg out to knock his balance. He stumbles, and before he can recover, you slam your palm into his ribs, sending him skidding backwards.

Your hands shake, but you refuse to stop.

Until movement flickers in your periphery. Aro.

You whirl just in time to see him standing perfectly still amid the chaos, watching you, studying you.

Like he’s waiting.

You feel it before you see it. The shadow moving behind you. The air shifting.

You turn too late.

And cold fingers wrap around your throat.

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

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Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Finale

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