#do you ever just feel like majima staring straight at a wall

[oshi-nakadapiroki]

舞台 「リコリス・リコイル」 バックステージ映像

Backstage footage of Majima (Nakada Hiroki) in Stage Play "Lycoris Recoil".

[arysthaeniru]

aAAA the joy of seeing an update on your current favorite fanfic is just aAAA

I always felt that kiwami 1s Nishiki was just a bit too,, I dont know how to describe it; but essentially he just felt off, granted yakuza 1 is a product of its time and therefore the plot is a bit dated and whack as all hell

The way you write Nishiki just feels so much better and realistic; in the original he just seems so uncaring towards Kiryu? which just feels kinda OOC? You'd think he still cares about Kiryu despite it all, especially when you take Yakuza 0 into consideration; and i feel like you portray Nishiki much more accurately

I never thought much about Yumi, because honestly, in the original she was kinda just, there? You actually made her a very interesting person! like I'm actually invested in her in your story! (side note you ever think about her clone who got tortued and died? yeah who WAS that???? thats never brought up is it??)

Theres so much more to talk about but in short; This is the best fix it/rewrite of a game plot I have read to date and it brings me joy in my current stressful school life. and no I will not stop praising it or the author, because this work has made me very happy. ;)

I just have a gift for picking favorites that end up dying,,aand another favorite of mine is Mine

imo theres a lack of soft, reassuring Minedai, i just feel like he'd need a reminder that people love him as a person and not just for the money he can provide, even if its obvious

I'd love to see how you'd write them, but I understand if theres more interesting/appealing drabble requests!

- Carp

CARP, thank you for this <3 this is so sweet!!!!! I’m so happy you enjoy my Nishiki! I had fun playing with what Yakuza 0/the Kiwami additions gave us about Nishiki’s personality and outlook on the world, and trying to reconcile that with the plot that Yakuza 1 initially had. Ultimately, I fell on the side that you did: even if Nishiki’s ambition took him down a monstrous path, I don’t think he’s the sort of person who neglects to pay back his debts. And he’s aware of the huge debt he owes Kiryu. Not to mention, their bonds of trust and love vanishing completely because of jealousy felt unreal to me. Their relationship becoming twisted or strange? Yes, but vanishing entirely felt unsatsifying to me. 

And Yumi!! I had so much fun excavating her character from the clues we get of her in canon. I worry sometimes, that she’s unrecognizable, because you know, I’ve given her a college education, and a whole bunch of interests beyond hostessing alone, but people seem to like it and like her, which is great!! I hate fridging women characters, so keeping her and Reina alive was important to me, hahaha. (RE: fake!Mizuki, there’s this substory in Kiwami that actually addresses who she was, BUT IT’S EVEN MORE HORRIFYING. So that’s why Yumi in my fic is the one captured and tortured by Nishiki’s men, because the thought of this poor innocent woman getting dragged into the mess was just untenable to me.)  

Anyway, thank you for your support and kind words, and I hope you’ll continue to read and that my fic can continue to relieve stress. I--tried to write this about Mine, but Daigo kind of stole the spotlight a little??? I hope you still like it--if not, I will try a ficlet from Mine’s perspective too. I enjoy minedai a lot, but I haven’t had room to think out their dynamic yet, so this took me a while. 

Daigo’s no stranger to being desired. He’s attractive, he knows this—his mother’s beauty lives in his veins, and he’s always had the money to look after himself. Fancy soaps to wash his face, the invisible retainers to keep his teeth straight, fancy suits and skin-tight shirts to show off his frame. For all that Kiryu insists his charisma is something that comes from the soul, Daigo knows it wouldn’t be able to draw the sort of attention he does without being attractive.

Which is to say that Daigo’s not especially thrown off by the intensity of Mine’s gaze. It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again. The thing that surprises him is how much he relishes in being seen by Mine.

Maybe it’s because Mine’s an island in a stormy sea, one of the only yakuza his age who’s sensible and level-headed enough to make it big. Maybe it’s because Mine’s gaze is always so reserved, polite, never overly lusty or overstaying its welcome, and Daigo has so rarely been desired so quietly. Or maybe it’s because Majima and Kashiwagi so clearly disapprove of him—Daigo’s always been something of a rebel, and he hasn’t shaken that off, even now he’s in his thirties and is the arbiter of rules for the Tojo Clan.

Daigo can’t quite put a pin on why he’s so comfortable with Mine’s yearning looks, but he’s never been one to hold back when he wants to indulge in something good. Not exactly a hedonist, not by yakuza standards, but Daigo has never kept himself from enjoying life, in the name of some dubious ‘honour.’

Which is why, in an after-hours meeting with Mine, as they eat cheap takeout sushi together, Daigo takes his chance. A momentary slip, the slightest hint of wasabi left at the corners of Mine’s lips and Daigo swoops in, rubs a thumb over the corner of Mine’s lips. Mine stutters to a stop, mid-sentence through a rundown of the real-estate that the Hakuho Clan’s been purchasing up, and stares at Daigo, eyes bewildered.

“Sixth Chairman?” he asks, his voice still remarkably composed.

“Wasabi.” Daigo says, nonchalantly, as if it’s nothing, and sticks his thumb into his mouth, slowly licking it off with a lingering lave of his tongue. He feels a sharp stab of satisfaction as Mine’s eyes turn darker, and his gaze follows Daigo’s hand down.  

Daigo straightens up, languidly, and cracks his neck, casually. At this point in the day, he’s untucked his shirt, and he knows that a slight strip of his stomach will be visible when he stretches out his arms towards the ceiling. And as predictably as clockwork, Mine’s gaze darts downwards, to that pale expanse, to catch that brief second of skin. Daigo can’t help but feel warm. Something about being watched by Mine is exhilarating.

“Smoke?” offers Daigo, but as usual, Mine refuses, with a polite shake of his head.

Daigo knows from hearsay that Mine’s something a health-freak, so he’s not entirely surprised. It’s already too late for Daigo to preserve his health—he knows that his liver’s already been pretty ruined from long nights of binge-drinking as a youth, and this job’s too stressful to withhold from vices like smoking and drinking, without an optimal end-goal. So he walks over to the window, cracks it open a little, and lights up.

The breath of nicotine curls over his body, a tender caress, and Daigo feels his shoulders drop, as the relaxation hits. He pulls off his cufflinks, tosses them into his pockets and rolls up his sleeves. He takes it slow, runs his fingers over his skin a little more than strictly necessary. Surreptitiously checking the reflection in the window, Daigo watches Mine watch him, and smirks at how intense that gaze is, how Mine’s mouth has opened, and Daigo can just see the soft pink of his tongue.

“Dojima’s just fine, you know. When it’s just us two.” Daigo says, turning over his shoulder. He smiles, one of those charming smiles that had always gotten him whatever he wanted as a child, “We’re same-aged friends, after all.”

“Dojima-san.” Mine acknowledges, after a brief pause.

Daigo turns around, to properly look at Mine and lifts an eyebrow. “Dojima. Or Daigo, preferably. Dojima-san’s always my father in my head.”

Mine nods, face impassive. Daigo can’t read him like this. Maybe that’s why he likes when Mine stares at him, filled with longing. At least then, Daigo feels like he knows him. In moments like these, his implacable gazes might as well be a brick wall. “Right. Your Father was also in the Tojo Clan.��

Daigo smiles, wryly, and blows out a puff of smoke. “One of the most horrible men I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting—and I had to call him Father. But damn if he wasn’t good at the job.” He sighs and stubs the cigarette out against the ashtray. “...sometimes feel like I’m competing with his dead spirit. Everybody’s looking at me and wondering if this is what my Father would do. Or what Kiryu-san would do.”

“You’re doing better than any of them.” Mine says, immediately, with a vicious ferocity that Daigo wasn’t expecting. He can’t quite stop his eyebrows rising in surprise, and Mine straightens upwards, looking self-conscious immediately. Daigo regrets his instinctual reaction, immediately. “That is to say, Dojima, that I think that you’ve pulled this Clan into somewhere far more respectable. From what I’ve heard of your Father, he didn’t have the temperament to do proper business on this level—too insistent on formal obeisance and unable to be flexible as the times require. And Kiryu-san might be very honourable, but we are yakuza. There are certain things you have to do as a Chairman, that he couldn’t bring himself to do. But you are practical and do what is necessary, while also not overstepping into excessive violence. You are uniquely suited for this job, Dojima.”

...he’s taken aback a little, he can’t deny it. Daigo wonders if his cheeks are colouring, wonders if his obvious shock is offputting, wonders if this is how Mine feels every time Daigo teases him lightly about his obvious attraction. A startling warmth spreads through his chest, and Daigo can’t stop the slight smile that touches his face. Has anybody ever said something so unreservedly kind and measured about Daigo before?

Maybe this is the difference between everybody else’s gazes on him, and Mine’s gaze. It’s based on something more than desire alone. Respect.

Daigo runs a hand over his slicked-back hair and ruffles it free, with a rueful smile, a smile that he couldn’t take away from his face, even if he tried. “I appreciate that. You know I couldn’t do it without you, right?”

He’d never really believed himself capable of attraction to a man like Mine. All of his previous childhood crushes had been on bright, cheerful conversational, pure-hearted people. Daigo had always figured they would balance out his sardonic cynicism. He’d never thought someone as reserved and principled as Mine would ever make his heart flutter. But then, there was something about that deep hunger and passion that Daigo craved. Perhaps it was because he was no longer the gloomy punk of his youth. Maybe his tastes have changed towards tall, dark and handsome. Maybe Mine’s just that special.

“Dojima—” Mine says, clearly trying to refute it, but Daigo cuts him off.

“I mean it. Everybody in this fucking Clan wants me to do something or be somebody else. Kashiwagi-san wants me to be my mother. Majima-san wants me to be Kiryu-san. Everybody else expects my Father. But not you. You deal with me honestly, and with candour, and never hold any expectations against me except success. I appreciate your faith in me.” Daigo takes a couple of steps forward, until his shoes almost brush up against Mine’s own. He leans down over Mine’s chair. “I could not do this without your backing and help. Truly. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone like you in my life. A true friend.”

Mine tilts his chin up to meet Daigo’s gaze, a hungry devotion in his eyes, and Daigo, for a moment, wonders if this is wrong. If he should hold back, like Kiryu would. But Daigo is Daigo, and Mine clearly wants him anyway, so he leans down and kisses him.

Mine’s mouth is velvety smooth and wet and hot and it is oh-so satisfying a feeling to put his hand against Mine’s broad neck and feel his warmth up against Daigo. He pulls back, with a satisfied sigh, and feels the burn of wasabi across his lips, a final parting kick.

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

Can i request an apology/embarrassed Tachibana and Kiryu kiss? ✨💞

(if you don't like this ship you can change it!)

Ah, one of my favorite readers! 🥰 And I, the author of An Invitation to Dinner, the Pioneer of the good ship Majima/Kiryu/Tachibana, not ship Kiryu/Tachibana??? Of course you can have some Kiryu/Tachibana! I love my precious boy, I never get to write about him, and no one seems brave enough to ask about my OT3 *sigh* But your request!

6. Apology Kiss + 27. Embarrassed Kiss 

It was just dinner, Tachibana had said. He hadn’t said anything about “black tie” or “cocktail hour” or “must have your own vineyard to enter.” Kiryu gulped hard, looking down at all the glittering, shimmering figures in the marble-paved gallery. He felt like a shaved ape in his brand new tux and new squeaky shoes that shined so brightly he could see his face in them. He should really know by now that he had to ask questions when Tachibana said things, but he hadn’t, and now he had only himself to blame for being stuck here. 

“Kiryu-san!” Tachibana waved to him, sweeping up the stairs to greet him, looking perfectly elegant in his satin tails and gold embroidered bow tie. Kiryu had to bite his lip and look away for fear of blushing. 

“I’ve been waiting for you, how absolutely exquisite you look,” Tachibana fawned, hovering around him, gently nudging his arms to see the cut of the suit, was that a brush against his ass? “Was the chauffeur on time? The tailor didn’t treat you poorly did he?” Tachibana continued, coming around back in front of him with his ever-present smile. 

“Wha-? No, he was... the chauffeur was fine, the tailor was fine, everything was fine!” Kiryu blurted out anxiously, feeling a little dizzy trying to keep up. 

Tachibana laughed and his eyes crinkled up in that way that always made Kiryu’s insides go all gooey. “Forgive me, I was just so eager to have you here,” Tachibana apologized gently, taking Kiryu’s arm and starting to lead him down the stairs, “These things are just so terribly dull without good company, I could hardly wait to see you.” He passed Kiryu another sweet smile. 

“Oh...” Kiryu murmured, distracted by the stares of the other guests and unsure if they were staring at him, or them, or were just looking because they were moving. “So, uh, will Oda-san be here too then?” He focused back on Tachibana. 

Tachibana’s face hardened. “No, he will not,” he murmured, his tone revealing the iron beneath the light, amiable exterior. Kiryu felt a little chill run up his spine and he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. 

Tachibana sighed and returned to his usual cheerfulness with, “Come, let me show you around the exhibits. Have a drink, here,” he nodded to a passing waiter, “Now, this first painting is new. It was only just completed in 1987 and depicts...” 

And Tachibana began his tour of all the art on display at this gallery opening. Kiryu well-knew he didn’t know the first thing about art, but he liked to hear Tachibana talk. He knew so much and always seemed happy to explain what was going on, never bored or tired of Kiryu’s questions. He encouraged them, smiling when Kiryu would say something he liked or, more often, didn’t like. He called one incomprehensible and frankly, ugly, statue “stupid” and Tachibana cackled so loud that several patrons moved away from them. Kiryu blushed and ducked his head. 

“Did I say something wrong?” he muttered in Tachibana’s ear. 

“No!” Tachibana insisted, wiping his eye, “No, indeed. This is stupid. It’s pretentious self-expression masquerading as social critique without anything to say. It’s grotesque and self-congratulatory and everyone here is just too afraid to say so.” He smiled brilliantly up at Kiryu. “You, as always Kiryu-san, are the only honest man for miles.” 

Kiryu felt his cheeks heat under Tachibana’s praise. 

“Tachibana-san.” Kiryu and Tachibana glanced up at the sound. A well-heeled and middle-aged patron approached them, nodding to Tachibana. “The board of investors would like a small word regarding tonight’s celebration.” She gestured to a roped off alcove.

Tachibana nodded back politely, then turned to Kiryu with a sigh. “Alas, duty calls,” he rolled his eyes regretfully, “I won’t be long.” He patted Kiryu’s arm before turning to his escort and walking off, already engaged in a new conversation. 

Kiryu stood uneasily for a moment, looking after him, then gazed about the grand room. He hadn’t even had time to admire the space they were in between all the paintings and sculptures and carvings and collages. High, high above were elegant brass chandeliers. Distantly he wondered how many people might be crushed if one of those were to fall or how one would even bring one down, since there were only two stories to this gallery and the chandeliers were at least a story above that. Perhaps by repelling off the walls, if you were quick enough, you might be able to jump… Kiryu rubbed his chin then shook himself. Thinking about work in a place like this, that alone was probably grounds to throw him out.  

Kiryu brought his gaze back to the floor in front of him and found he could breathe easier with no one staring at him now. He looked over the heads of the art critics and art lovers, searching the walls for something interesting. He might as well look around rather than stand here dumbly and perhaps attract stares again. So Kiryu followed the flow of the milling crowd and began to meander. 

Most of the paintings were opaque to him without Tachibana helpfully filling in the details in his ear so he moved on swiftly. But eventually, one work did catch his eye. Deep into the hall, centered in a shadowed space, just before the outer balcony on the backside of the gallery, stood an impossibly tall ice sculpture. It rose, spiraling, into the air, climbing as if it would catch those lofty chandeliers. It didn’t, quite, but it was still taller than Kiryu would have ever expected ice to be. Its shape was indistinct, but to Kiryu, it seemed like fire. The blaze of damnation or redemption with a deep blue core in its base. 

At the very top, the spears of flame were beginning to melt and had turned transparent as glass. Looking straight up, Kiryu could see the texture of the wall behind the sculpture perfectly. He stepped even closer, to see how the shape of the thing changed at this angle, almost moving, just as fire would. He didn’t notice the velvet rope warning people to keep back until his new shoe squeaked on a puddle of run off and then the seal between rubber sole and marble tile broke and in a wheel of arms, Kiryu slid face first into the sculpture. 

For a blessed second, the sculpture only seemed to wobble and Kiryu gasped back, trying to get his bearings, but the next second there was a heavy cracking sound, the hiss of something heavy falling through the air, and then the crush and shatter of ice scattering in all directions as it met the floor. 

Kiryu squeezed his eyes open to find only a stump where the sculpture had been and a minor avalanche of ice pieces behind it. Wincing, shoulders hunched, Kiryu turned reluctantly to the horrified guests, mumbled an apology, and escaped onto the balcony as quickly as he dared. Fffffffuck. 

(Alas, this became so fucking long, I couldn’t put the whole thing on everyone’s dashes ^^; More under the cut!)

“There you are!” Tachibana exclaimed, finally finding him a while later. “I-” 

“I’m so sorry, Tachibana-san,” Kiryu interrupted upon seeing him. He was crouched under the balcony’s railing, doing his best not to be noticed by anyone. “I can’t imagine what that thing cost… I’ll find a way to pay for it.” He looked up at Tachibana helplessly. “Can you tell them that?” 

Tachibana paused, a few feet from Kiryu, looking somewhat surprised. “Well, there’s no need for all that,” he answered reassuringly, his smile bemused. He began to approach again and Kiryu noticed he was holding a plate. 

“First, I brought you some dinner. I thought it might cheer you up,” he explained, handing the plate of delicate-looking hors d'oeuvres to Kiryu before sitting down next to him.  

Kiryu gulped, staring down at the beautiful, tiny food, terrified he’d destroy this too. “Tachibana, I… just send me away, I’m hopeless!” he insisted, looking away. 

“Send you away? Whyever would I do that! I’ve never had a more charming gallery opening,” Tachibana insisted, facing forward. 

Kiryu glanced at him suspiciously, not quite raising his gaze to his face. “You paid for it already… didn’t you?”

Tachibana’s mouth parted, then he grinned, chuckling softly. “Can’t deceive you for a minute, can I?” He looked over at Kiryu, eyebrows quirked. Kiryu hardly dared look up, knowing he’d start smiling too. He looked away again quickly. 

“How much was it?” Kiryu muttered, eyes focused on the dark concrete in front of them. 

Tachibana exhaled mournfully. “It was only an ice sculpture,” he hedged, “They’re not designed to last. It would have been destroyed at the end of the party anyway.” 

“How much?” Kiryu repeated. 

Tachibana actually groaned this time. “Kiryu-san, before you insist on paying me back, the money means no-”

“Tachibana, if you don’t tell me how much it cost, I will get up and walk out of this party this instant,” Kiryu interrupted fiercely, his hand clenched on his knee. 

“...1.5 million,” Tachibana said steadily. 

Kiryu’s breath hitched and his heart sank. His hand relaxed, all the fight drained out of him in the face of that number. “Good,” Kiryu swallowed, “Good… thank you. I’ll, I’ll find a way to pay you back, don’t worry.” He was more trying to reassure himself.

Tachibana snorted. “Amazed as I am at your sense of honor, Kiryu-san, there’s really no need. I gladly would have paid you that amount to watch you destroy the damn thing.” He smiled to himself.

Kiryu glanced up at him. “It was actually the only piece in there I liked… and I ruined it,” he mumbled. 

Tachibana looked over at him and reached his hand out to his arm. “Then I’m sorry for that,” he said sincerely, “And, if you feel you really must repay me, I think I might have something easier to come by than the exact amount.” He looked down at his iron hand on Kiryu’s arm. 

“Yes?” Kiryu looked up eagerly, turning towards Tachibana, “Anything, I mean, anything of equal value. I don’t want to cheat you.” He shook his head vehemently. 

“Mmm,” Tachibana smiled, still coyly looking down, “Equal value? I suppose this will do, although frankly even I can’t put a price tag on it…” 

Kiryu began to frown. “Well, what is it? I’m not sure I have anything that valuable…” He bit his lip, starting to worry. 

Tachibana finally looked up at him and grinned. “A kiss.” 

Kiryu’s eyes widened. “A wh-what? Excuse me?” He startled back. 

“At least one,” Tachibana held up a finger, “I’m loathe to put an actual figure on your kisses, but if you force me-” 

Kiryu began to turn pink. “N-No, no! That isn’t the issue!” he hissed, “I… a-um… uh…” His eyes darted from Tachibana’s smirking face away and back again unable to rest. He scratched his sideburn nervously. “Are you sure?” he muttered. 

Tachibana beamed at him and nodded enthusiastically. “Quite certain. The kiss will act as your apology and redemption all in one, and then you needn’t feel upset about this anymore,” he explained, nudging himself closer to Kiryu, face turned up and open. 

Kiryu gulped, feeling his face burn even more. “And there’s… nothing else I could offer you?” he whispered, trying not to stare at the way Tachibana’s lips puffed out like rosy petals when he pursed them. 

Tachibana shook his head, eyes almost closed. “No equivalent offers or exchanges,” he murmured, so close now Kiryu could feel his hot breath on his skin. Kiryu swallowed again and bent down a fraction, keeping his eyes on Tachibana’s softly closed ones for just a second longer, before cupping his jaw and pressing their lips together. It was chaste and soft, softer than Kiryu would have expected. 

Kiryu pressed gently, then retreated, but found Tachibana’s hand in his hair, refusing to let him go so easily. Tachibana pulled him close again and parted his lips, sucking Kiryu’s lips into his mouth like they were life giving. Kiryu choked down a whimper but couldn’t resist pulling his arms around Tachibana, needing to hold onto him for support. 

Tachibana kissed him recklessly, mercilessly, not giving Kiryu a second’s pause to catch up. Kiryu was panting now, dizzy, and Tachibana snarled into the kiss, claiming more and more of his mouth and Kiryu let him with an open moan. Then, all at once, Tachibana slowed down, apparently becoming aware of himself again. His grip on Kiryu’s hair loosened and he sat back with a wet smacking sound. Kiryu slumped back, gasping and absently wiping his mouth. He’d never, ever, been kissed like that. 

“W-We’ll call that even, shall we?” Tachibana panted, clearing his throat and attempting to straighten up, withdrawing from Kiryu’s embrace. Kiryu reflexively tightened his hold, curling his fingers into Tachibana’s fine coat. 

Tachibana blinked up at him, a question on his face. 

“You said… at least one kiss, right?” Kiryu offered, stunned the words were coming out of his mouth. He glanced at Tachibana shyly. 

Tachibana grinned hungrily, his eyes narrowing. “So I did, Kiryu-san,” he purred, throwing a leg over Kiryu’s lap then hauling him over by the tie. Kiryu whimpered and forgot all about the ice sculpture, the party, and in fact other people period. 

[mariogman25]

Akira Kurusu, The Yakuza Prince of Kamurocho Part Zero: Friday Night, Beneath the Mask

(There are 2 ways to view this chapter. Read it after read Chapter 1 or after the 5th Chapter. All depends on you.)

December 1988 Majima was tired. More than usual. His day at The Grand, the Cabaret he was forced to work at had been hell so far. Some drunk fuck decided to get handsy with the women and he had to deal with him without laying a finger on him.

After putting on a show and convincing the guy to pay for everyone’s drinks, Majima left for the break room. Or rather, the balcony behind the Cabaret so he can get some fresh air. He grabs a cigarette and just stares off into the distance. Something’s been bothering him these past few days. And not just the normal spies that the Tojo and Omi have to keep tabs on him, as he spots a one now, a hobo. But something… funky is going on in the back of his mind, but he doesn’t quite know how to describe it. 

He decides to ignore it, probably some anxiety or something. Doesn’t help he got a weird message on his beeper that he doesn’t quite get. 56 020 074… ‘Sweet Dreams, Plans Changed, I need a favor’. He doesn’t get what the hell that was about, he’s given his number to nobody so it makes even less sense. He just hopes it’s a wrong number and puts it away. After the hobo stared at him for long enough, Majima just puts out the cigarette and walks back inside.

After getting some updates on the floor, he ensures that everything in the cabaret is running smoothly. Nothing will get in his way to get back into the Yakuza, and The Grand was his way of paying his way back in. The Tojo was his life and running The Grand was his own gilded cage as additional punishment for what he tried to do a during the Ueno Seiwa Hit*, trying to save his blood brother Taiga Saejima… Majima shakes his head after zoning out for a second there, remembering that day like it was yesterday.

After finishing up some updates, Majima heads onto the floor to tidy up some problems with a hostesses and bullshitting his way through and inspirational speech and helping out some other employees. ‘Gotta keep morale high. High morale means more cash…’. Seems that’s been his mental mantra for building up enough cash to pay back the Tojo Clan and Omi Alliance. Soon though, Majima is informed that a customer is being a bit more crazy with the orders than recommended now that he’s on some other guy’s tab. Majima scowls a little and asks the employee where the guy is. He wasn’t even at the table yet and Majima could tell who the orderer was just by looking at the short gray hair and piss brown suit: Tsukasa Sagawa. 

More or less his warden for this gilded cage of a city. Keeping tabs on him and checking up on the Grand occasionally. How Majima hated this man. Scowling at him as Sagawa tried to initiate small talk with him, Majima had to keep up the polite act. Majima finally asked him to come with him, and they headed for Majima’s office.

After some one sided small talk about Majima’s situation from Sagawa; highlights include “You’re the one guy in this town who has everything everyone wants, but you’re looking for something else… heh… Happiness is a bitch like that, eh?” and “Why the rush with getting back into the Yakuza, anyway? I don’t get it.” Sagawa asks. “It ain’t for you to get.” Majima responds while pulling out a large metal briefcase. It’s The Grands current take of this month. It’s the cash Majima’s been saving up and giving to Sagawa to convince Shimano to accept him back into the Tojo Clan. 100 Million by next month... Unfortunately, Sagawa has a change of plans and decides he’s going to need 500 million more yen to have that chat with Shimano. Majima, lost in anger, almost punches Sagawa right square in the nose, but he stops mere inches from it, fist shaking with anger. 

He can never hit him or else he’ll never get back in… Majima’s fist hovers in front of his face while Sagawa keeps on dropping his own brand of wisdom right to his face. Eventually he calms back down and stand back up straight. He steels his glare and says he’ll do anything or pay any amount to get back into the Tojo. Then Sagawa mentions if he would perform a hit, and Majima’s face shifts from anger to surprise mixed with some horror, making a noise comparable to swallowing his own tongue. Sagawa asks again “Which is it, then? If it meant getting back into the family, could you kill?” Majima just stares at him, the buzzing in the back of his mind is back again… stronger... and he’s still unsure of how to feel about it… He continues to scowl at Sagawa, ignoring it again. Moments pass, and soon Sagawa say “Relax, I kid.” and he gets up, takes the briefcase, and leaves. Majima has a strange feeling that he wasn’t kidding… Then he mentions he’s going to need to take the number one hostess from The Grand and place her in another place he feels needs a shot in the arm. Majima, helpless to object, just stands there until Sagawa leaves the room. Not wanting to scream, Majima just kicks over a tiny trash can so hard it slides across the whole room.

After a brief strategy meeting with the floor manger when he returns tot he room, Majima says this before heading out, “The nightlife biz is a jungle. The strong eat the weak. We trip, and the Grand’ll come crumblin’ down in days. My job is to do what it takes to prevent that. Hold down the fort.”, and Majima leaves the building to handle business.

A few hours later

After a long and strenuous night of work bullshit and random distractions involving some sort of martial arts teacher, a weapons dealer teaching him how to use a baseball bat in combat, and beating the shit out of some dudes who ambushed him outside of his house because of said work bullshit, Majima is a about to head into his apartment when he feels the back of his mind buzz again. It’s really starting to bother him now, so he decides to take some headache meds and just sleep it off. He walks in and sees his room. A low table covered in cigarette ash dust, a blanket in the corner, and a washing machine & sink. The literal base needs for a man like Majima. He never really felt the need for anything more or anything less, despite having all the money he could need. He throws down his suit jacket on the floor, and decides to smoke one last time before the night ends, and he opens up his one window and just watches the city go by. He spies more of the spies set up by Shimano and Sagawa… He scowls and contemplates his situation… ‘This city is my prison… How long until I’m free of it’s walls…?’

Eventually he lays down on his covers and drifts off to sleep…

He feels himself awaken yet again, but… he’s not wearing what he went to sleep in. He’s back in his Grand outfit, a fancy black suit and a tight bow tie... He gets up and looks around. The place he’s in… he gains a strange sense of Deja vu upon looking around… a small club of some kind… and a mini stage in front of all the tables, and a bar off to the side. There is opera singing coming from nowhere, and everything is tinted blue for reasons Majima cannot discern. 

On the stage in front of all the booths, one of which he woke up sitting in, has a desk sitting in the middle, with a… very odd looking old man sitting behind it. “Welcome to the Velvet Room... My my you have quite the journey ahead of you, and more importantly, it continues beyond this decade. Where will that journey will take you, I wonder? Hehehe… Now, Introductions. I am Igor, pleased to make your acquaintance.” Majima raises an eyebrow at the strange old man before him. His nose was as long as a banana and his eyes were bloodshot. Majima also notices how it seems that… Igor doesn't move his teeth when he talks, just his lips…

 ‘odd’ is the thought that passes through Majima’s mind…

“Hello!” Majima is startled a bit and jumps a little at the sudden other voice. He didn’t realize there was a third person in this strange dream. He looks to his side to find, sitting next to him in the same booth... some strange man in a blue outfit that Majima cannot describe. Like some sort of… Airline attendant mixed with police officer, the same shade of blue the room is tinted in. The man was a sickly pale and had 2 bright yellow eyes. He looks at Majima and tilts his head to the side in a way a woman would do that to look cute, “I am Alphonse.^ I will be here to help you on your journey, should you ever need it.” Majima looks back at Igor, silent, as does not know what to say. Igor explains, “This realm exists… between dream… and reality. Usually those who have forged contracts with others are allowed within the Velvet Room. It seems today you met quite a few, and you will meet more along the way, I assure you. Perhaps someone will forage a contract with you, allowing them access here as well... in fact, I’m hoping so.”

Majima spies Igor playing what seem to be… rather strange Tarot cards. Though… some have demons on them… while Igor’s been playing with them, Majima spied his Hannya tattoo on the… 1 card**. Majima’s eyebrow continues to be raised. He’s just letting this dream slide on by. It’s like he’s watching a weird ass TV show that he just happens to be in. He sees Igor looks around the room. “Such a strange place for a Velvet room. I never expected a Club… but very well…” He looks over at Majima with his bloodshot eyes. “It seems you think this place as a… prison… how strange, but none of this matters to me. You have many challenges ahead of you, and should the need ever arise, we shall be there to help. May we meet again.” Igor looks back down as it looks like he’s doing some sort of sleep, though his grin and bloodshot eyes remain wide open. Majima looks over at Alphonse, who is waving goodbye as Majima’s eyes begin to roll back into his eye, darkness overtaking his vision. “Bye Majima!” Alphonse yells as Majima’s head finally hits the back of his chair. 

Memories begin to play in his head. His final days with Saejima... His own screams from when his own clan stopped him from saving Saejima...

The days in ‘The Hole’ where he was tortured for so long, he almost wanted to die but never gave in… 

Finally ending on Shimano refusing to say what happened to Saejima, Majima shouting his name as he’s left to more torture.

Majima startles awake, breathing hard, covered in sweat. It’s essentially dawn right now. He doesn’t have work yet. He wipes the sweat off his face and takes a look at the headache medicine that he took last night, and he just throws it against the wall in anger, and goes back under the blanket. At least the buzzing in the back of his head is gone, his mind fading to black…

why is everything wavy…?

* Play/Watch the events of Yakuza 4 to find out more.

^ Alphonse is the name of Victor Frankenstein's very supportive father. As all Velvet room denizens are named after characters in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.

** The Fool Card, as all Persona protagonists are.

(Sorry if this was overly long. I basically summed up the first 30 minutes of Majima’s first chapter in Yakuza 0 and I couldn’t figure out what to cut because it provides characterization for Majima before he went fucking nuts and shows what kind of person his is sometimes. If I get enough people saying to shorten it, I’ll create a shorter version of this chapter)