themoonprincess110

[themoonprincess110]

Changes (Yakuza Fic Preview)

Characters:  Saejima Taiga & Majima Goro, Nishida

Summary: Saejima has had a tough time adjusting to the outside world since he got out of prison. Turns out Majima has trouble with adjusting too.

Tags/Warnings: Post Yakuza 4, Yakuza 4 spoilers, PTSD, Alcohol, Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Grown Men Crying, Angst, Grieving, Fluff, First Names, Fighting, Yasuko (mentioned), The Majima Family, Brief Vomiting, Y1 Majima Behaviour, Y0 Spoilers

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*Preview*

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“Welcome home, kyoudai.” He greeted, looking up.

“Yo. You’re up early, ain’t ya?” Majima noted, yawning loudly and walking to the fridge. His face was covered in sweat, his eye was bloodshot, and Saejima observed as the man harshly rubbed his palm against his eye patch as he grabbed a beer. Saejima grunted in response to his brother and looked back down at his sketchbook, watching from the side of his eyes as Majima promptly began to chug the whole beer in one go, then slammed the empty can on the counter, looking agitated.

“Everythin’ good?” Saejima questioned, putting his pencil down.

“Haw? ‘Course it is. Just got a headache or somethin’.” Another thing to adjust to. His brother’s strange, over the top kansai-ben and how there wasn’t a trace of his native speech left in his voice.

“Beer ain’t gonna help ya then.” He replied mildly, earning a scoff from the other man.

“What are ya, my ma?” Majima grumbled before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door, leaving Saejima to himself. The larger man decided to make some coffee so he stood up, bypassing the fancy machine that squirted weird foamy stuff into little cups, and grabbed some of the instant kind he picked up from the store. He heard water for the bath running as he disposed of the abandoned beer can in the recycling bin. Outside, the sky past their balcony was becoming lighter as the sun started coming up for the morning. Saejima made his coffee, putting away his sketchbook along the way, and deciding to make a light breakfast. He wasn’t much of a chef but he had some practice working kitchen duty behind bars, so decided to prepare some rice, grill some fish, and dug through the alcohol infested fridge for some natto. After a bit, he placed his dishes on the table, sitting down as bright yellow light began shining through the big apartment windows, illuminating the space around him. Majima exited the bathroom with a towel around his waist, his eye uncovered Saejima noted, and walked to his bedroom.

“Hey. Come eat somethin’ before ya go to bed.” Saejima called out.

“Huh? Ya cookin’ an’ shit now?” He heard through the wall of the bedroom.

“Guess so. ‘Bout time, ain’t it? C’mon before ya fall over.”

“The fuck? Ya think I’m fragile or some shit? I’m fitter than a fuckin’ fiddle.” Saejima scoffed.

“You’re gettin’ old, same as me. Might as well get some nutrition in ya.”

“Speak for yourself, old man. I’m gettin’ younger every fuckin’ year.” The man walked out with a pair of sweatpants on and a t-shirt that read something in english Saejima couldn’t read. It was a lot milder attire than what his brother usually wore these days but it reminded him of when they were kids, if not for the eyepatch which was secured back over his eye. Majima picked up a pack of cigarettes and shook one out of the box, flicking his expensive gold lighter open and moving the flame to the tip. He took a big inhale in and sighed, letting the smoke escape from between his lips. Despite the fact he had just gotten out of the bath, his face seemed pale and the dark circles surrounding his eye was prominent. Saejima wondered how much he had been taking care of himself all these years, as since he had started living here he had barely seen his brother get himself a glass of water, let alone a meal. He always did act like he would fight off sickness with his bare hands, but he was turning forty-six this year with a lifetime of bad habits. Not that he was really any better himself, but there was no alcohol in jail unless you paid a guard off, and he had been eating three meals a day, right on time. His kyoudai, though he was undoubtedly strong, was half the size of him and would sniffle half the year from hay fever. Saejima remembered when Yasuko started cooking for them after she became healthy. She insisted it was the least she could do, picking up cookbooks from the sale section and letting them taste all her attempts at new recipes. She always made extra to put in the fridge for Majima when he came by, followed by him enthusiastically encouraging her no matter how the dish turned out. The two of them would have to be on their own now, he thought gloomily, lamenting on how he would never be able to eat his sisters cooking again, then shook the thought out of his mind.

“Sit down.” Saejima urged the other man. Majima shrugged and sat across from him at the table, slouching down in the seat and tapping his cigarette on an ash tray. Saejima grabbed another serving of breakfast from the kitchen and placed it in front of him before continuing to eat. Majima assessed the breakfast on the table.

“Ya even eat like an old man.” He commented, before picking at his fish with his chopsticks.

“Nothin’ wrong with a classic breakfast. That western stuff’s too heavy anyway.”

“Ya just got outta the slammer after twenty-five years. Live a little, eh, bro?” Saejima shook his head.

“Why don’t ya eat with that mouth instead of yammerin’ away at me.” He scolded and Majima scowled, picking up some rice out of his bowl. They continued in silence, Majima barely eating any food, just moving it around with his chopsticks. Saejima noticed his forehead was starting to become shiny with sweat again, despite the fact the AC was still running. The man was looking down at his breakfast with a face Saejima didn’t recognize. His eyebrows were knitted together, his jaw clenched tightly and it was like he was looking far away despite his being eye pinned to the rice bowl in front of him.

“Kyoudai.” Majima didn’t move from where he was looking, lost deep in thought.

“Kyoudai.” Saejima repeated, a bit louder.

“What?” He finally murmured back in response, putting his chopsticks down and running his hands over his face. Saejima wondered if he was coming down with something, as he had already mentioned a headache earlier and seemed to be looking paler by the second. He reached out to feel his forehead, fingers just barely brushing over his skin before Majima jumped back, chair scrapping against the floor with his movement. He looked at Saejima with a wide eye before his face morphed into a display of anger, glaring at him.

“The hell are ya touchin’ me for!” The man snapped.

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