#when kiryu said “when we die at least we can go out together like brothers”??

[kamuro-junrenka]

We as a society need to appreciate nagumo more

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

Man I hope no one chooses the angstier prompts cuz that would break my heart D: #29 for the soulmate prompt to make up for whatever heartbreak Majima might have had over Y6? :D

I mean... you’ll. You’ll find out when you get there, I'll just leave it at that. 

29.  the one where your soulmate’s ghost haunts you when they die 

“We had soba last night, what’d’ya want from me?” Majima complained, rifling through the pantry. 

“Majima? Something wrong?” Saejima frowned, stepping into the kitchen from the living room. 

“Hmm?” Majima popped his head over the door, “Oh, nothing, nothing, just talking to myself.” 

“Mmm, alright...” Saejima’s lips thinned, unconvinced. “If you’re not feeling well, we don’t have to do this right now,” he offered. 

“Nah, quit worryin, I’m fine,” he muttered, waving Saejima off as he kept sorting through the pantry, “I was thinking buckwheat noodles for dinner, what’cha think?” 

“Sounds fine,” Saejima nodded encouragingly, “Want me to pick up anything from the store?” 

“Nah, we’re good. I got scallions and shit. Unless we’re out of those pickles ya like.” He closed the pantry door, a group of ingredients in his arms that he spread on the counter for prep later. 

“I think we’re good,” Saejima said, remembering checking, “But,” he hesitated and softened his voice, “We gotta get going, we’re going to be late.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Majima sighed, pushing past him into the hall, “I’m putting my shoes on, let’s go.” 

Saejima frowned after him. He always got a little funny around the anniversary. So this was probably nothing to worry about. Just what grief was like for him, probably. Still. Saejima pulled Majima’s warmest coat from the closet and piled it onto his brother’s shoulders. 

Majima rolled his eyes at him. 

“It’s still chilly out,” Saejima protested, “And you ain’t as young as you used to be.” 

Majima snarled, zipping up his coat. “I’m not too old to kick your ass, old man,” he hissed, baring his teeth. 

Saejima snorted. “Try it, we’ll see where it gets you.” 

“We’ve still got time-” Majima started, even as he pushed open the front door. 

“No, we don’t, out!” Saejima ordered, blocking the path back inside and ushering Majima further out where Akiyama was waiting with the car. 

They drove together, amicably quiet, out of the city to a quiet little shrine on a hilltop. It was new, at least compared to the ones around it. The stone work wasn’t stained by rain yet and the name carved into the smooth black stone was as fresh and bright as the day they saw it placed there. Kiryu Kazuma. 

It had been five years now. Heart disease. Kiryu had joked that at least it wasn’t violence that made his end. Not that that kept anyone’s spirits up in the last days. Majima had... he hadn’t been well for a long time after it. He was... better now. Much better than he had been. Saejima had moved back in with him, to help him cope and that had done him some good. 

It wasn’t enough. 25 years hadn’t been near enough; Saejima knew that. His brother deserved more time with the man he loved. Maybe it was a lesser cruelty than other ways this could have gone, but Saejima couldn’t help thinking that Majima was always somehow only allowed half of the happiness other people enjoyed. 

Each of them spoke their piece to Kiryu, letting him know everything that had been going on since they last spoke and how they missed him. Haruka had been the day before and Daigo was just leaving when they got there. They nodded, smiled, chatted for a bit, but always with a cautious look at Majima who wasn’t really... present when they were here. None of them said anything. Silently they agreed that Majima got to go last and take as long as he wanted. Akiyama and Saejima stood at the car, watching him carefully and staying bundled for warmth. 

“How’s he been?” Akiyama muttered, finally broaching the topic. 

“He tried to pick a fight with me earlier, so I’m taking that as a good sign,” Saejima confided, “I think it’s getting easier for him... I think.” He grimaced. 

Akiyama nodded. “I remember how he...” He couldn’t finish. 

Saejima bit his tongue, the memories of Majima screaming himself hoarse a wincing flash across his mind. He remembered picking him up, catatonic, and gently sponging him in the bath, only to have Majima start crying all over again as soon as he warmed up. Saejima turned hard on the valve of memory and forced it shut. He focused up on the current Majima, leaning over the grave, his lips moving as he murmured his thoughts to the air. 

“He wakes up crying less,” he eventually said, voice gruff. He could feel Akiyama flinch next to him. “He smiles some days. More and more, all the time. It’s good to see.” 

Akiyama let out a breath. “That’s... that’s a relief to hear. Does he um...?”

Saejima turned to him, raising an eyebrow. Akiyama rubbed his cheek, trying to put words to whatever it was. “Does he still, y’know, h-hear him?” 

Saejima’s face went flat. All too recently he’d come home to find Majima sitting on the couch, leaving space for another person, talking animatedly with Kiryu-chan. He’d watched Majima’s face fall as he took in his reaction. Majima wouldn’t speak to him for the rest of that day. “Not that he’ll tell me,” Saejima finally answered. 

Akiyama faced front. “Can’t say I blame him. I’d find it comforting too. If something ever happened to Hana, I think I’d-”

“Well, it’s really none of your fucking business, is it?” Saejima interrupted, voice tight.

“...yep,” Akiyama agreed, nodding briskly, “Yeah, that’s fair.” 

Majima finally turned back to them and waved. They both waved back and pretended not to watch Majima walk down the path towards them to get back in the car. He didn’t look upset. He looked tired, but not like he’d been crying. Saejima knew that Majima was well-aware he was being handled with kid gloves. And that he probably resented it. But Majima never brought it up so Saejima couldn’t very well rein himself back, not when the result of Kiryu’s death had been such... desolation. Majima was probably the strongest person Saejima knew, but... Saejima wished he didn’t have to be. 

“Making buckwheat noodles for dinner, ya can stay if ya want,” Majima offered when they got out. 

Akiyama beamed. “Ohhh, it’s tempting, but I promised my wife I’d be back in time for her famous sour beef. I’ll bring you a plate next time. Or you can come over-!”

“Tch, yer such a sap,” Majima rolled his eye, “Get goin’, before yer wife thinks we killed ya.”

Akiyama smiled sheepishly and waved to them as he rolled off. 

“I’m fine, ya know,” Majima murmured after he was out of sight. 

Saejima raised his eyebrows slightly. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“Ya reek of worry, bro,” Majima tsked, walking back inside, “I’m not... I’m okay. I know that I haven’t been. But I’m okay. Thanks for... y’know.”

Saejima squeezed his shoulder hard before taking his coat and hanging it back up. “We wouldn’t want you out there alone.” 

“I know,” Majima nodded, “It’s kind of ya. So thanks.” 

Saejima nodded and let Majima make dinner unmolested, tentatively convinced that today was a good day. 

Dinner was warm and filling and Majima didn’t so much as tremble all night, even at bed time. 

“You sure you don’t want me to sleep with you tonight?” Saejima frowned in on him on his way to his own bedroom. 

“And listen to ya snore all night? Fuck that,” Majima groaned, ducking his head under the covers, “I’m exhausted, let me sleeeep,” he whined.

“Alright, alright,” Saejima held his hands up and flicked the lights off, “I’m just right down the hall if you need anything.” He hovered a second longer, watching Majima nod under the covers, then left dutifully. 

Majima poked his head back out when Saejima has left and flipped over on his side. “We can be together now,” he murmured, stroking a face in the darkness. 

There was a pause for the other figure to speak, a space on the pillow for their head to rest. Majima swallowed. “I know I say this all the time, but I miss you so much,” he whispered, “always... I know ya know. I know ya know that, Kiryu-chan. ‘Cause ya with me all the time.” 

If another figure was there, it was given time to nod, to reach out and hold, to press its face close and whisper soft reassurances. 

Majima sniffed. “I hate that fucking shrine... but ya heard all that earlier,” he sighed, rubbing his face and adjusting, trying to shrug out of the tears, “I’m just glad ya here with me. You’ll stay with me, right?” He blinked hopefully. 

The figure, if it had had fingers, would have brushed Majima’s face. The figure, if it had had heat, would have pressed him close to melt in his warmth. The figure, if it had had voice, would have whispered, “Always.” 

Majima relaxed, feeling hands that weren’t there, and warmth that didn’t burn, and a voice that didn’t breathe. “I love ya, Kiryu-chan. Wait for me.” 

And Kiryu would.