[Like A Dragon] All is Fair (in Love and War)

[javert]

Title: All is Fair (in Love and War)
Fandom: Like A Dragon (specifically, Yakuza 0)
Pairing: Nishikiyama Akira & Oda Jun, with background Kiryu Kazuma/Nishikiyama Akira and Oda Jun/Tachibana Tetsu
Rating: T
Summary: Two men in love with other men walk into a bar. They have a lot in common, but that doesn't mean they're going to get along.
Notes: A Nishiki-centric fic set in the late spring and early summer before the events of Yakuza 0 and told from his POV, mostly about him coming to terms with liking men and how it's just, a thing, that happens. This was the first fic I wrote after a long hiatus, encouraged by my friend Dalee! I'm still fond of it, and glad it resonated with people.
AO3 Link: Here.

---

There's a special kind of comfort Nishiki gets from Serena, something he's finding harder and harder to get anywhere else, even in the safety of his cramped apartment. It's a nice place, warm, usually frequented by men looking for a good time with the hostess of their choice. Throughout the evenings he's spent nursing a drink at the bar, he's developed a friendly relationship with Reina, who's always there for him to rant about his lifestyle and how agonizingly good Kiryu is at everything. The alcohol is fine, the music is good, and he's never witnessed any incident involving his fellow patrons.

The comfort, though, comes from the fact that it's the only place he's found where he's never had to face anyone who was involved with his line of work. His favorite karaoke bar had been compromised, leaving him bitter and resentful, when he'd stumbled upon the place. He figured he'd stay there until, of course, some familiar face would show up and ruin his life a little more, but surprisingly it still hasn't happened.

So when one night, after almost everyone else has left, the elevator doors open to reveal a man he's never seen before but who looks about as shady as it gets, Nishiki's stomach sinks. He figures at least it's not someone from his family – not that it's that much of a consolation.

Nishiki watches the man walk toward the bar behind lidded eyes. In front of him, Reina's smile gets wider.

"Oda-san, welcome!" she says as he takes a seat as far away from Nishiki as is feasible. "It's been a while."

"Oh, you know how it is," the man named Oda says, dragging his syllables in ways that Nishiki immediately finds beyond infuriating, "we've been busy."

His outfit's a mess, which is the first thing Nishiki has to note about him. He's obviously wearing a jacket that's been properly fitted for him and probably came with a full three piece suit – or two, maybe – but somewhere along the way he'd ditched the pants to wear a white pair that has nothing to do with anything. The most egregious part, though, so glaring Nishiki can't help but think they’re probably meant to make a statement, are the shoes. They're red, and that's all that needs to be said on the matter.

He's staring, holding his half-empty glass in the vicinity of his mouth, not really paying attention to what Oda is saying to Reina – something about his boss, alarmingly – when of course she notices.

"Nishikiyama-kun, do you know Oda-san?" she asks lightly, as if being acquainted with someone justifies glaring at them in silence. Nishiki grimaces.

Oda's eyebrows are dangerously high when he turns ever-so-slightly to look at him. "I'm afraid this is the first time we've met."

Nishiki shrugs.

"I was just trying to figure out what kind of guy you were."

"Is that so?" Oda drawls, one corner of his mouth curling into the beginning of a smirk. "What's the diagnosis?"

He takes the drink Reina's just poured for him without turning away to look at her, although he does dignify her with a "thank you." Nishiki purses his lips.

"You don't look like a yakuza," he says, hoping for a confirmation.

Oda scoffs, bringing his glass up to his mouth, and takes a sip. Nishiki waits for him to be done, to see if he's going to say anything, but instead he turns back toward Reina, who's observing them with much interest.

"What's up with that one?" Oda asks, as if speaking about some kind of unruly dog that's been forgotten in her bar.

"Oda-san, please don't be rude to Nishikiyama-kun," she scolds him with a smile. "Oda-san works in real estate," she adds, glancing at Nishiki.

With those shoes? Nishiki thinks, but it's probably not a good thing to say. He's learned a lot about what is and isn't appropriate to say in these last few years. Instead, he puts his glass down and shakes his head.

"Well, that's a relief," he says. Oda snorts behind his glass.

"You do look like a yakuza, though," Oda says then, still looking at him. "You running away from your peers or something? Afraid your boss will punish you for having a karaoke night?"

Reina makes a disapproving noise, and Oda winks at her, of all things. The light catches something, and Nishiki suddenly realizes he's wearing earrings – of all things.

So much for real estate. Must be some interesting estate they're offering.

"I just don't like mixing work and leisure," Nishiki says, smiling at Reina. "Kind of hard to do in this town, it seems."

"You tell me," Oda mumbles, but he doesn't offer any follow-up to that.

He spends the rest of the next hour talking with Reina about a variety of things that seem to all mostly revolve around his boss. It's weird, and Nishiki can't stop himself from listening in, even after Reina stops trying to involve him when it becomes clear Oda has decided to pretend he's not there.

These are the things he learns about Oda's boss, whose name he never manages to catch:

- He is a good man.

- He is younger than Oda is.

- Despite this, Oda seems to treat him as more competent than he is. It's a behavior that's alien to Nishiki; he's used to elders taking their abilities for granted. He's had to deal with that a lot lately.

- He is well-known and well-liked. Reina seems to agree. Nishiki tries to remember what he's heard about real estate recently, but the answer is not much.

- He has expensive tastes.

- He's apparently all that Oda cares about.

It's the most puzzling information of them all. From the way he talks, to the clothes he wears, and his obvious lack of concern for what other people think of him, it's strange that the one thing that seems to matter to him is his boss. Yet, when Nishiki watches him speak, his fingers holding onto his empty glass too tightly, he can't help but be reminded of himself, rambling about Kiryu.

It's an embarrassing thought, admittedly. He doesn't want to confess that he cares about Kiryu that much – but he does, and when he comes here in the early evening, it's to rant about whatever stupid shit Kiryu has gotten himself into this time, what weird food combination Kiryu likes in his ramen, which higher-up has said something positive about Kiryu while barely sparing him a glance.

He's lost track of what Oda is saying. He stares deep into his glass and wonders if he looks like that when he's talking about Kiryu. If he looks fond. Begrudgingly happy about having him in his life.

Unsurprisingly, Reina notices his sour mood and turns away from Oda even as he barely misses a beat in whatever gossip he's recounting.

"Nishikiyama-kun, are you done drinking?" Her voice is steady and she's smiling, but he's learned a lot about the way she acts throughout the nights spent here, and he can tell she's picked up on whatever's bothering him.

He opens his mouth to say that he is indeed done when the whatever in question decides to join in.

"Are you sure he's old enough to drink, even?" Oda sounds like he's purposefully making himself sound more aggravating. Reina rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm done for tonight, I think," Nishiki elects to say. He's not really in the mood for banter anymore. He stands, grabs his wallet to pay for his drink. Reina's looking more worried by the minute.

"Are you alright?" she asks gently, whispering almost so that Oda doesn't try to interrupt again.

Nishiki smiles as convincingly as he can. "Yeah, yeah. I'm just tired. I'll swing by tomorrow."

Her eyes make it clear she's reluctant to let him go, but she doesn't try to insist. As he boards the elevator, Nishiki thinks he can hear her begin to lecture Oda about not frightening her customers, but he can't be certain.

The streets are uncomfortably warm even in the late hour. He barely notices; he's too busy thinking about Oda, and his mysterious boss, and Kiryu.

He figures he'll try to catch him in the morning, see what he's up to. Getting himself in trouble, probably. He still owes him money from the last time Nishiki had taken him out.

Maybe Kiryu knows something about that whole real estate business.


*


He doesn't actually manage to swing by again the next day, or the one after. He's sent out on a bunch of petty missions that don't amount to anything but help make him look good. A week and then some go by before he can once again set foot in Serena.

He's stopped at the entrance by the sight of none other than Oda, smoking at the door. He's mumbling to himself, and Nishiki guesses there's no way he can enter without him noticing.

"Yo," Oda says when he finally spots him, "you're Nishikiyama-kun, right?"

He doesn't look particularly happy about it, but he doesn't look particularly annoyed either. Nishiki frowns, crossing his arms in front of him reflexively.

"Oda-san, good to see you again," he says because he doesn't really feel like getting into a fight so early in the evening.

Oda snorts and throws his cigarette on the pavement before stepping on it hard. "No need for that, I was an ass to you last time. Not that it's gonna change, but the owner did give me an earful after you left, so I'll try to behave."

With that, he steps inside, leaving Nishiki to wonder why the hell he had to find the only yakuza-free bar that apparently also includes some douchebag real estate agent. If he really is one, Nishiki thinks as he follows.

Reina seems relieved to see him, which does make him feel a little better about the fact that Oda is sitting at the bar once again. She welcomes him with a smile and a free drink.

"Oda-san will pay for it, to make up for last time," she says in a tone that's both undeniable and sweet as honey. Oda nods, though his frown makes it clear he's not pleased.

This time, Nishiki decides to sit right next to him. He tells himself that it's to rile him up, but in truth he's kind of hoping to hear more about Oda's boss and his weird obsession with him. Reina's smile is bright and brimming with confidence, as if she thinks him choosing that seat means that all is forgiven. Nishiki supposes there's really not much to forgive; he's had to deal with worse.

"So, what's up with you lately, Nishikiyama-kun?" Oda asks suddenly, surprising him. He holds up his glass and smirks. Nishiki narrows his eyes.

He's a lot more attractive when he smiles, although most people are, in Nishiki's experience.

"Not much," Nishiki says. He doesn't want to talk about his job and he doesn't want to talk about Kiryu – especially with Oda present.

Unfortunately, Reina has other plans.

"How's Kiryu-san doing?" she asks, eager. Oda immediately perks up, letting himself lean toward him as if expecting to hear a secret.

Nishiki grumbles something he's not even sure of himself. Reina and Oda are staring, and he's worried he's going to start blushing. He clears his throat.

"Kiryu's... fine," he lets out finally, his bangs falling in front of his rapidly reddening face like two dark curtains able to shield him away from prying eyes. "He almost got into a fight yesterday, but I talked him out of it."

The sound Oda's glass makes when it hits the bar makes it clear he's being purposefully loud to annoy him. "I haven't been introduced," he says, once again exaggerating his own speech patterns in a way that makes Nishiki want to strangle him. "Who's Kiryu?"

"Kiryu-san is Nishikiyama-kun's most treasured friend," Reina says, cheerful as ever, before Nishiki can even muster a reply. He glances at her, suddenly doubting her allegiances. If this is her idea of helping, she's being spectacularly bad at it. One look at Oda makes it clear that he's trying hard not to snicker.

"Oh," Oda says as if that truly is the most fascinating thing he's heard all day, "is he your sworn brother?"

His smile is all teeth, and Nishiki wonders whether this is some kind of threat, a way to let him know that there is something more going on with that whole real estate bullshit he's pulling. Not being a yakuza doesn't mean he can't be up to all kinds of underground shit.

Nishiki plays with his glass, tapping his fingers against it lightly, stalling.

"You seem well-versed in this stuff. Do they have sworn brothers in real estate?" His voice is steady but he's openly glaring, keeping his face low so that Reina doesn't catch on.

Oda laughs a little at that. "As a matter of fact," he starts, but they're interrupted by the arrival of another customer, forcing Reina to leave them alone at the bar while she caters to her guests.

The tension only weighs more heavily between them with her gone. Nishiki finishes his drink in one go and immediately regrets it; the alcohol burns his throat and he has to fight against the urge to cough. He won't give Oda that satisfaction.

"She seems to like you, so I guess you're a good kid," Oda says. His glass is in his hand once more, held up toward the light so he can stare at the glimmering liquid. "I'm warning you, though. I don't take kindly to yakuza bullshit."

"Is your boss your sworn brother?" Nishiki asks. Cocky. That's how Kiryu usually ends up getting into fights. That, and being awfully dense sometimes.

Oda doesn't say anything back, no quip or even a smile, which is as good of an answer as any. By the time Reina gets back behind the bar, they've sat in silence for several minutes, and Oda's glass is finally empty. She's unmoved by whatever tension is left in the air and dispels it with a kind smile. Nishiki wonders if sometimes she feels like he does, forced into a role where she has to practice fake happiness. Holding onto his glass as if it's the last thing connecting him to this world, Oda barely seems to notice that she's come back. He stares at nothing in particular with his brow furrowed and sighs. Nishiki guesses he's thinking about his boss.

That seems to be the conclusion Reina comes to as well. "Oda-san, I've noticed you don't smoke inside anymore," she says, conversationally, but Nishiki can tell she's onto something, and he's sure Oda can tell, too.

"Ah, right," he says, coming out of his reverie as if he hadn't spent the last five minutes blankly staring at the counter. "I can't smoke inside where I work, so it's become kind of a habit to smoke outside instead."

With that, he takes out a pack from his jacket and places it in front of him. He doesn't look like he particularly wants to smoke right now, more like he's trying to make a statement. Reina smiles.

"Has Tachibana-san forbidden you from smoking? Isn't that kind of cruel?" She laughs, and Nishiki looks at Oda who looks at Reina but says nothing. His jaw is set in a way that makes Nishiki worried that he might do something stupid, but instead he lets out a chuckle and finally lets go of his glass.

"He says the smell lingers. I guess he doesn't want his tailor-made clothes to reek of cheap tobacco."

"I can understand that," Reina says thoughtfully.

Nishiki is still looking at Oda, who's apparently not caught on or else he figures he'd been staring back. He tries to remember if any Tachibana working in real estate come up in his memory, but he can't muster anything. He hasn't really been keeping up with information that didn't benefit him in some way.

As expected, Kiryu had no knowledge of any shady real estate businesses, and there's no way he's going to ask Kashiwagi. He'd briefly entertained the idea of trying to contact Kazama, but it seemed too risky for what is, in the end, just curiosity.

Reina offers them refills, but Nishiki declines – he has obligations in the morning and no desire to deal with a hangover. Oda lets her pour him another glass.

"You need a light?" Nishiki asks, eyeing the pack of cigarettes. Oda blinks at him.

"Why not," he drawls. He sounds exasperated, as if he's agreeing to humor him, and Nishiki can't help but wonder why the mention of his boss made him so sour when he'd been happily chatting about him the last time he'd seen him.

He takes out his lighter and flicks it on, watches in silence as Oda lights his cigarette and takes a drag. He has long eyelashes. Somehow, the thought makes Nishiki look away.

Oda blows smoke at his own glass, looking more relaxed now that he's got a cigarette in his mouth. Reina is beaming at their perceived friendship.

"I'm glad my two favorite customers are finally getting along," she jokes. Nishiki does hope that he's her favorite customer.

Oda laughs a little, but it quickly turns into a cough. He sighs and leans against the counter, pressing his cheek against the hand holding his cigarette.

"I'm beat," he says. Reina frowns.

"Has it been a bad day for you? I did notice you seemed under the weather."

"Ah, you know how it is," Oda says in a puff of dark smoke. "You lose some and win some. I'm sure Nishikiyama-kun can relate."

It's an obvious jab, but Nishiki does find it a little halfhearted.

"Our business is doing great, actually," he retorts. Oda snorts, and coughs again.

"Yeah, I bet. Fucking yakuza," he mumbles, but Reina has heard, if the severe look on her face is any indication.

"Oda-san, I've already told you not to be rude to the other customers."

"Whatever," he grumbles in reply, taking a swig of his glass and crushing his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray. "Sorry."

The apology is as halfhearted as everything else, once again. Nishiki shrugs.

"It's fine. I should get going anyway. Gotta get my beauty sleep."

He shoots Reina a smile, and she smiles back, which is a relief. Oda mumbles something he can't figure out and doesn't really care to.

"Good night, Nishikiyama-kun," Reina says kindly. Nishiki nods. He stands, takes a few steps toward the elevator, and stops.

"Oda-san," he says without looking back, "have a good evening."

He doesn't wait for his answer and rides down toward the warm streets of Kamurocho. He doesn't know why he even said it. There's something about Oda that makes him curious, and he's not really sure he wants to allow himself to figure out what it is. He's vaguely aware that he does hope to see him again, but he's not really sure why either, except maybe to find out more about Tachibana.

There's no way Kiryu will know anything about this, and there's no way he'd ever discuss Oda with Kiryu – even when he'd asked about real estate, he'd done his best to keep it vague. Still, he thinks about how he could use Kiryu as a sounding board for this without letting him know what it's about.

 
*


He's walking up Tenkaichi Street, having just left the Kazama family office, when it happens. Before he can really register it – caught off guard because he's too busy thinking about the look on Kashiwagi's face whenever he asks him about the future – his back is being pressed against the windows of a nearby shop, and Oda is holding him by the neck almost too tightly. Tight enough that all Nishiki can do is gag a little.

"Nishikiyama-kun," Oda says as if they're just greeting each other at the bar, "from the Dojima family. Right?"

Nishiki gags, again, a little harder, and Oda finally relents and gives him enough breathing room to reply.

"What the fuck are you doing," he coughs, and then he thrashes because he's not in immediate danger of being choked anymore and he's not going down without taking at least that horrendous shirt with him to his grave.

Oda lets his throat go, but before Nishiki can seize the opportunity to counter-attack, his head is hitting the glass behind him with a loud echoing sound from the force of Oda's punch meeting with his jaw.

He's done nothing to deserve this, frankly, except maybe act like a smart-ass, but he's starting to think a full-blown fight with Oda might not have been his best idea. He groans.

"You gonna tell me why you're beating me up all of a sudden, or do I have to guess?" Nishiki wheezes. There's blood in his mouth, the back of his head is throbbing, and he really wants to grab Oda by the collar and try shaking him, but it's not like that's gotten him very far yet.

"You're with the Dojima family," Oda repeats. His face is terrifying, contorted in anger, and Nishiki's markedly avoiding his eyes.

It's not really worded like a question, but he figures it's safer to answer. "Yeah. Why?"

For a second Nishiki thinks Oda is about to strike him again, and he braces for it, formulates a vague plan to counter it and finally take the advantage, but instead Oda just glares.

"If you're trying to get info about Tachibana-san," he says, and trails off. It's not exactly difficult to guess what's supposed to come after.

"What?" is all Nishiki manages to muster.

Now, that does convince Oda to strike again, except instead of punching him, he grabs him by the collar with both hands, and Nishiki gags again. It's starting to become pathetic, but pathetic is better than dying.

"I will fucking kill you," Oda snarls. It's such a harsh contrast with his dickish-but-affable attitude at Serena. Nishiki's reminded of a big guard dog baring its teeth at an intruder.

"You're making a scene," Nishiki wheezes, grabbing at Oda's arms. It's not much of a counter-attack.

Oda snorts with no humor visible anywhere on his face. "It's not the first scene this street will fucking witness tonight, and it's certainly not the last either."

He does have a point, but that's not really what matters to Nishiki just now; as soon as Oda lets his guard down, he throws his leg forward as hard as he can and kicks him in the knee, sending them both toppling over on the wet pavement.

"Fucking brat," Oda growls. Nishiki's back up on his feet before him, and he tries to adopt some kind of fighting stance, make it seem like he can fight even though his head is still pounding.

Oda sighs when he stands up, stumbles a little.

"I'm not investigating your boss," Nishiki says quickly, before he can attack him again. "I didn't even know about your real estate shit until we met."

His opponent seems skeptical, but he's still not attacking, which is good.

"Also, how the fuck do you even know I'm Dojima family?"

That gets a smug smirk to appear on Oda's face, and Nishiki briefly reconsiders attacking first. There are still plenty of passersby at this hour – all of them very carefully making sure to avoid this mess lest they get punched or shot or whatever they imagine is happening. He's not exactly sure how happy the family would be if they found him picking fights with civilians. Then again, maybe Oda isn't really a civilian.

"The owner of Serena told me," he says finally.

Nishiki makes a face, unimpressed. "Reina would never tell you this kind of shit, she knows I don't trust asshole real estate agents with it."

"Well then," Oda shrugs. "Guess I've got my asshole real estate agent sources."

His tone makes Nishiki lower his guard, even though it's probably a bad idea. They're not exactly being hostile to each other anymore – well, at least not as hostile as they were back when Oda was strangling and punching him. Talking is fine.

"I'm afraid I can't trust you're telling the truth, though," Oda goes on, thoughtful.

"I am telling the truth, I don't give a shit about real estate, and I don't give a shit about you coming out of nowhere to beat me up," Nishiki cries out fast. "I'm gonna tell Reina and she's never gonna let you in again."

It's terribly petty, and Nishiki suddenly realizes that he sounds like a little kid reprimanding a bully on the playground. Oda seems to have the same thought because he's smiling as if he's fighting back a laugh. He holds his hands up with a shrug.

"She'll never believe you."

"Oh, she will!" Nishiki yelps. "She's my friend, and she's not gonna let some grade A douchebag enjoy her bar if he's also beating up her friend on the down-low."

Oda quirks an eyebrow, the expression making him look even more insufferable, if that's possible.

"You really are a fucking brat," he says, as if he's surprised. "Guess I got worried for nothing."

He doesn't even have the decency to look sorry about it, or even fake it, but Nishiki didn't really expect any better.

"Sorry for the threats. And the physical violence," Oda drawls with a vague gesture of his hands like they’d just played a game of cards and had an argument about the proper rules to follow.

Nishiki surveys his options. His head still hurts, it's way too late, and he's already had a shit day. All he wants is to fall onto his futon and sleep without even bothering to take off his clothes – but he's also kind of very fucking wary of this whole "I've got my sources who told me all about your family" business. What else does Oda know? Who are the sources? Does he know about Kiryu? Could Kiryu be in danger? What about Yumi, or his sister, or Kazama, could they also be in danger? Who the fuck Oda even is in the first place, or Tachibana for that matter, and why do they care so much about some low ranking yakuza who's just trying to spend some nice, quiet evenings in a good bar?

Most importantly, what is up with this guy and the outbursts when it comes to his boss? As much as he'd taunted him the last time they'd seen each other, Nishiki knows fully well that real estate does not, in fact, involve sworn brothers unless it's mixed with some shady bullshit.

"You alright?" Oda asks suddenly, and Nishiki realizes he's let his thoughts trail off for a little too long.

"My head feels like shit because of you," Nishiki groans. "You're a real pain in the ass. I just want to spend some time away from all the shit I have to deal with at my – job, but of fucking course some asshat has to show up and act like I'm a fucking spy agent sent to track him or whatever. Fuck."

He runs his hand through his hair and holds his palm pressed against his forehead. The throbbing's moved from the back of his head to the front, and he's seriously starting to consider that he might have a concussion or something. He ignores Oda's quiet laugh and walks past him, in the direction of the office. He figures he already knows about the Dojima family, who cares if he follows him there? If anything, maybe Kashiwagi can beat him up.

Not that he really thinks Kashiwagi would avenge him. He'd probably avenge his noodles first.

He's barely advanced one inch when he hears rapid footsteps behind him. A hand grabs him by the shoulder, hard, and he's unsurprised to find that it's Oda.

"You can barely walk straight," he says. He doesn't seem that worried about it. "Do you need help?"

"I'm getting help right now," Nishiki groans, shifting to get his shoulder out of Oda's grasp. "It's too late for you to act like you care about me."

"Oh, I don't," Oda says as he lets him go.

For a second, it almost seems like he's about to add something else, but instead he gives an exaggerated shrug and moves aside. Nishiki figures it's for the best.

Kashiwagi is as disappointed in him as he'd expected, although in fairness he has just gotten beat up a few steps away from the office. He does call Kiryu to get him to a doctor anyway, and Nishiki has to sit in the passenger's seat of his own car and endure a lecture about watching his back more carefully.

He doesn't really listen to it. Instead he watches the subtle ways Kiryu's face changes as he emotes and wonders if he'd beat someone up if he suspected they wanted to harm his best friend. The answer is easy enough, but he's not really certain what it means. Kiryu does seem to notice that he's not registering what he's saying, but he doesn't scold him any further, considering Nishiki's just suffered an injury to the head.

In the end, he's only prescribed rest and pain medication, and when Kiryu drives him back to his apartment, he falls asleep against his shoulder, which has to be some kind of safety hazard, but Kiryu only wakes him up once they've arrived.

Once Kiryu has left, Nishiki curls on top of his futon and thinks about a variety of things – how fake Oda's laughter always sounds at the bar, how big Kiryu's hands look around the wheel of his car, how much his head hurts. He doesn't notice when he falls asleep.

 
*
 

For weeks after that, Oda is nowhere to be seen. He doesn't run into him on Tenkaichi Street again, and when Nishiki visits Serena, he's never there when he arrives and never shows up before he leaves. He doesn't tell Reina about what happened between them, and by the looks of it, Oda's not said anything to her either. From the way she talks about him occasionally, though, it seems like he still shows up at the bar; vaguely, Nishiki wonders if he's avoiding him.

It's a stupid thought. It becomes even stupider when, one late Saturday night, the elevator doors open to reveal Oda, grinning brightly as he greets them.

"Oda-san!" Reina exclaims. She looks delighted, of course. "Welcome! It's good to see you."

"Sure is," Nishiki says, turning back toward the bar. He's annoyed suddenly, as if Oda's physical presence brings him back to their last painful encounter.

He sits right next to him, as Nishiki had done before. Their shoulders brush and Nishiki tenses immediately, slides slightly to the right so he can make sure that doesn't happen again. Thankfully, Reina doesn't seem to notice his turmoil. He can't know whether Oda does, because he's not looking at him.

His head ached for days. He still sometimes wakes up with mild headaches. It'll pass, surely, but it's an unpleasant reminder. Sitting next to Oda is even worse.

"Nishikiyama-kun has been asking about you, you know," Reina teases. Nishiki rolls his eyes. Still, somehow, her usual demeanor works to make him relax a little. Oda's not going to punch him here. Maybe he wasn't avoiding him. Maybe he was giving him space.

"Is that right?" Oda says. He's still not looking at him, too busy staring at his hands around his empty glass, but behind his annoying speech pattern, Nishiki thinks he can hear something in his voice, a hesitation, like he's not sure what he's supposed to say.

This is the cue Nishiki decides he needs to convince himself to turn around. He glances at Oda, and Oda glances back. There's a bruise near his collarbone, barely visible at that angle. Nishiki wonders who he got into a fight with.

Aside from him, that is.

Oda's smile is affected, but maybe it's always been this way. Nishiki's head throbs.

"Well, you were nowhere to be found," he says finally, sounding a lot more convincing than he expected. "I was starting to get worried."

Reina takes it upon herself to refill Nishiki's glass before Oda can answer. "Oda-san has had a lot to deal with lately."

"Yeah, well," Oda says. He doesn't add anything else, watches Nishiki drink instead.

"Is your business doing well?" Nishiki asks once he's done. He feels stiff. He feels like he should apologize, or like Oda owes him an apology.

Oda opens his mouth to reply, but then Reina's called over by one of the customers. She excuses herself to leave them both unattended.

This time, the tension between them is minimal at best; Nishiki wonders if they'd managed to get it out of their system through their fight. It's a believable theory.

"How's your head?" Oda asks instead of providing whatever answer he'd come up with.

"It's been better," Nishiki says, shaking his glass and watching the ice cubes clink. "Got in a fight on Tenkaichi Street."

A smirk tugs at the corner of Oda's mouth. "Oh really? What did they look like?"

"They had terrible fashion sense," Nishiki lets out. He takes a sip of alcohol before Oda can say, "Oi!"

He's muffling a laugh in his glass when Reina comes back. Oda's frowning, but he looks oddly pleased at the same time. He hides it behind his palm when he leans against the counter.

"So, your business," Nishiki repeats, and Oda's dark eyes stare. "How's Tachibana-san?"

It feels odd to say the name. He still really has no idea who it is. Maybe asking will get Oda to beat him up again. Maybe they'll go down the elevator and go at it right behind the bar.

Maybe he wants that, he realizes suddenly. It feels... wrong.

Oda clears his throat. "We've had some disagreements, but things are definitely improving."

It's as much of a non-answer as he can afford. Nishiki nods, but he feels kind of ill. He drinks the rest of his alcohol quickly, in three gulps, and this time he's thankful for the dizzying warmth, the burning throat.

Reina's saying something, expressing sympathy to Oda about his conflicts with Tachibana probably, but Nishiki doesn't try to focus on their conversation for once. Instead he thinks–

Oda's hands on his throat. Kicking him in the knee. The way he looked, like he was ready to tear him apart.

He's had to deal with worse. Once, when Kiryu wasn't there to offer a distraction, Kashiwagi slapped him across the face, hard, twice. It feels like decades ago but couldn’t have been more than a couple years back. He'd immediately looked remorseful after, though it seemed to Nishiki that he cared more about what Kazama would say than about his well-being. It stung, not so much the slap itself, but the fact that it'd come from someone he trusted to look after him.

He's gotten stabbed once. In the shoulder.

He's broken his leg trying to fight off someone who was initially targeting Kiryu.

He'd hurt himself numerous times when he was younger, and even more reckless, and always had Kiryu at his side, ready to punch harder than he got, and Yumi waiting for them to finally settle down, to stop coming back home with bruises all over.

"Boys," she'd say, annoyed. She always forgave them, Kiryu especially. Nishiki doesn't particularly want to think about that part.

He's had to deal with worse, but Oda wasn't fighting for a reason he's used to. He was fighting for someone else with the intensity of someone fighting for themselves. Not out of obligation. Out of something like loyalty, maybe.

He mumbles a thank you when Reina refills his glass again and takes a sip to think about something else. Oda's looking at him with mild interest. Nishiki pretends not to notice.

"My turn," he says, dragging the words. "How's Kiryu-kun?"

Nishiki sighs. "Over-protective. He's constantly checking on me. It's starting to get annoying."

"I'm sure he's got many reasons to be worried about you," Oda says. There's a slight smile on his lips, and Nishiki gives him a look, raised eyebrows and squinting eyes, that says, yeah, clearly. "You yakuza are very... rambunctious."

Behind the counter, Reina lets out something akin to a giggle despite her best attempt to muffle it with the back of her hand.

"Nishikiyama-kun sure seems like somebody you need to keep an eye on, doesn't he," she says, and she sounds so disarmingly fond that he can't even be mad about it.

"Oh, yeah," Oda snickers.

Nishiki throws his head back to sigh loudly and roll his eyes, just to see if it'll make Reina giggle again, and it does. It strikes him that he's gotten used to this; despite their less-than-savory encounter, or maybe because of it, Oda feels familiar now, tittering on the edge of being an acquaintance. He doesn't know how to feel about that.

Soon enough, before he's even noticed, he's spent hours sitting next to Oda, listening to his tales of grim encounters back when he'd lived in Osaka, or much closer, in the darkest alleyways of the Champion District. He's charismatic, Nishiki has to admit, even when he's obviously faking a better mood than he's actually feeling. It's hard not to want to believe what he says – which, Nishiki muses with a smirk above his empty glass, must be a good quality for somebody working in real estate.

He realizes how long it's been when Reina tuts disapprovingly as he gestures for another drink. "You've had enough," she says. She smiles, impish, and adds: "Let's not make Kiryu-san worry further."

Oda laughs at that, holding up his arms to stretch his shoulders in a way that Nishiki would have described as "attention-grabbing" if only because calling it "dramatic" feels odd.

"Mama's right, Nishikiyama-kun," Oda says, leaning against the counter once more. "What happened to your beauty sleep?"

"I lost track of time," Nishiki shrugs. "Guess I was too entranced by your storytelling skills."

It was meant to be a jab, but it's definitely too much of a compliment, all things considered. For a brief moment, Oda seems almost taken aback, but soon he's smiling wider than Nishiki has ever seen him.

"Oh, Nishikiyama-kun, you flatter me," he drawls. It's too uncomfortably close to friendly banter, and Nishiki wonders if he's just bound to become the kind of person who bonds with people who've beaten the shit out of him.

Not that he's had fist-fights with Kiryu that often. Not that he would mind. He wishes he could stop thinking these things so often whenever Oda is around.

"You're right, though," he says, and averts his eyes. "I think it's time for me to clock out."

"I'll go, too," Oda says, quickly. Nishiki nods, though he isn't sure why. As they stand up, Reina makes sure to forbid them from getting into trouble.

They ride the elevator down in silence. Nishiki's trying to remember exactly how many glasses he's had when the doors open and they're faced once again with the warm streets of Kamurocho.

"This fucking weather," Oda growls as they exit. He grabs at his shirt collar, as if hesitating to rip it open, and exposes even more bruises along the lines of his collarbone. There's a pattern to them, Nishiki realizes, that doesn't point toward something as unpleasant as a street fight.

It's several uncomfortable seconds before Nishiki can force himself to look away, but Oda says nothing, and so he decides to believe that the other man hasn't noticed his staring. He feels hot, and it's not because of the weather.

"Well, huh," he stammers. He has to get away. "See you next time. Oda-san."

Nishiki doesn't look at him, but from the short silence, he guesses that his strange behavior has not gone unnoticed this time.

"Yeah," Oda says, and after a few steps, they've been separated through the crowded street, still busy even at the late hour.

Once he's sure Oda is out of view, Nishiki holds up a hand to his damp forehead and breathes in and out slowly as he walks. What was that? Why was he so put off by realizing what those marks were? It feels maddening, that the only thing he could think of upon seeing them was, were those from Tachibana?

He feels so much worse, all of a sudden, even though the evening's gone so much better than he'd expected it to go. His head hurts again, a throbbing sensation that starts at the back of his head and ends somewhere between his eyes, at the bridge of his nose.

There are so many other explanations – maybe he's mistaken and they were bruises from a fight, just strangely placed. Maybe – the most likely explanation, of course, and why can't he stop himself from thinking that it's actually the least likely? – Oda has a girlfriend, or is visiting hostesses, or brothels, or...

He snaps out of his spiraling thoughts when he's standing at the door of his apartment. Once he's inside, he feels calmer – as long as he doesn't think about it. As such, he does not think about it.

He's still not thinking about it two hours later, lying on his futon and staring at the ceiling. He wonders what Kiryu would say – but he knows what Kiryu would say. Kiryu would not say that Oda is probably fucking his male boss, because Kiryu doesn't think about these things. Not like he does.

It's a paralyzing thought – much more than anything else that he's thought about ever since he's left the bar. He sits up and thinks about how mad Reina would be if she knew he was considering drinking beer until he passes out.

He doesn't, but he doesn't sleep much either. He dreams about Kiryu staring at him through the darkness. He wants to bite at his neck. He wakes up drenched in sweat and resolves not to sleep again.

 
*
 

It's barely Monday when Kiryu gets in a fight on the way out of the arcade. It's the typical scenario: some thugs are bothering a defenseless lady in an alley, and of course it's up to Kazuma Kiryu to save her. Save her he does, but he doesn't save his arm, wounded badly enough that Kashiwagi shakes his head sternly when Kiryu tells him it'll get better in two days top, announcing that he's to stay at home and rest for at least a week. "Kazama's orders," Kashiwagi says, and even though Nishiki is skeptical, he has to admit that this is the only thing that will convince Kiryu.

Because he's his sworn brother, he's given the privilege of watching over him. The way Kashiwagi says it feels condescending, but Nishiki is too happy to be rid of nonsensical fetch missions for his higher-ups to be offended. The boring legwork only provides more time for him to think about things he'd rather not think about. He's thankful for the distraction.

Of course, Kiryu doesn't get it either. He's laying on the couch with his shoulder propped up and looks at Nishiki as if Kiryu's the one who's keeping him prisoner.

"Sorry you have to look after me," he says. "I told Kashiwagi-san it was unnecessary, but..."

"It's fine," Nishiki protests. He stretches his legs, restless from sitting on top of Kiryu's futon for so long. "You took care of me last time I got beat up, so it's only fair."

Kiryu huffs. "I just drove you back home and brought you soup. You're stuck here looking after me when I'm sure you'd rather be out and about chasing your girls."

There's a subject. On the scale of things he does not want to think, or worse, talk about, it's close enough to the top to warrant a swift dismissal.

"You're more important to me than them," is what comes out of Nishiki's mouth. He coughs immediately after in a piss poor attempt to hide his embarrassment.

Kiryu rolls his eyes, but at least he's smiling, even if it's at Nishiki's expense.

"Come on," he says. "Don't give me that. I'm jealous, you know."

"Jealous? I've never so much as seen you step one foot in a club. I'd introduce you."

The idea – the mental image – of watching Kiryu surrounded by girls attempting to woo him actually makes something curl somewhat painfully in Nishiki's stomach, but he ignores the feeling and focuses instead on his friend's pensive expression.

"I don't know about that," Kiryu mumbles. He shifts on the couch and frowns when his shoulder acts up from the slight movement. "I don't think your type's my type."

"Type?" Nishiki boggles. He'd laugh if he could be sure his voice wouldn't sound strangled. "You have a type? Let's hear it then. What is Kazuma Kiryu's type when it comes to women?"

Kiryu makes a face that's astonishingly close to a pout. "You know," he says.

"I really don't."

"You do!"

"Nuh-uh. Come on, I'm all ears!"

Nishiki watches him intently as he thinks. He looks annoyed, but relaxed. It feels like they're fifteen again and exchanging gossip about girls at the orphanage.

"Short hair looks nice," Kiryu says after what feels like a deep reflection. He ponders for another moment, and then adds: "I think I'd like a girl who's sure of herself and knows what she likes."

Despite himself, Nishiki laughs – and it sounds fine.

"Kamurocho's clubs are full of confident girls with short hair," he says.

"I bet," Kiryu replies, though he seems unconvinced. He rolls his eyes again, a little. "I don't think I'd like these clubs."

"Oh, so you want a girlfriend then?"

It's the right tone for playful, and by the way Kiryu's frowning, he's too busy feeling bashful to notice anything else. Nishiki tries to think about how he would feel if his best friend had a girlfriend – a real one, not a crush from school – and stops himself immediately.

"I don't think I'd want to risk getting a girl involved in our work," Kiryu says, much too seriously. "Always thought that was why you only dealt with hostesses."

"Ah, well," Nishiki mumbles. "I guess that's part of it."

The way Kiryu arches his eyebrow says, what's the other part? but maybe because he can see the tension in Nishiki's stance, he does not push further. Instead, he fidgets on the couch and sighs.

"Get me a beer," he says, sounding like a man who's been kept prisoner for five years and not a little over half a day.

Nishiki does, clearing up the tension as he stands, and makes a quip about still being somebody's errand boy – somehow – and the rest of the day goes by without incident. So does the next: Kiryu, bored out of his mind despite Nishiki's best attempts to keep him entertained, elects to nap in the middle of the day, and Nishiki watches him sleep in silence for what feels like hours.

It's on the fourth day that Nishiki decides he's had enough. Kiryu's not one for whining outright, but his dry delivery doesn't make his constant complaining less aggravating. On his orders, Nishiki gives Kashiwagi a call for nothing – all he says is that Kiryu promised to rest for a week, and a week has seven days, and as such, he was not done resting and was to stay in as instructed. "He can walk around the room," is all Kashiwagi offers in lieu of parting words, and Kiryu makes a sound like wounded cattle.

"I'm gonna go take a walk," Nishiki says after listening to an endless stream of harsh words and some profanities aimed at their superior. "Think you can manage?"

Kiryu gives him a look that's such a spot-on impression of a sad puppy that Nishiki staggers a bit. "I wanna go too," he pleads.

"No way, with my luck, we're gonna run into some thugs and you won't resist smashing your wounded shoulder into them." Kiryu makes a face like he wants to complain but knows he'd be in the wrong, furrowed brow and pouty mouth. "I'll bring you something nice to eat," Nishiki promises.

"I want ramen," Kiryu says, and Nishiki smiles. "Tell them to put every topping they have."

"And I'll pay for those toppings, I assume?"

Kiryu doesn't even bother to reply, choosing instead to slump a little further into the couch. For two days now, Nishiki had been trying to convince him to switch to the futon, but of course Kiryu was too stubborn to comply.

The first thing Nishiki notices upon stepping outside is that he should open the windows when he gets back to get some fresh air in. The second thing is the drizzle; the rain falls in quick, fat droplets of lukewarm water, leaving behind a smell that makes Nishiki think of rolling in the grass with his best friends when he was twelve.

It's a heart-warming memory. He clings to it as he walks through the crowd and the rain and the damp hot weather. Sometimes, he wants to go back to those times, when he could grab onto Yumi and Kiryu without any second thoughts. Other times, he looks at Kiryu's face illuminated by the neon lights of Kamurocho and thinks that there's no better time for him than now.

He's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't notice at first, but as he turns around a corner he suddenly realizes Oda is there, on the other side of the street. There's no mistaking that outfit – he can't believe anyone else could wear those shoes, for starters.

Oda's walking with someone, and Nishiki finds himself fascinated. It's another man – must be – slightly shorter, wearing nicely cut clothes. Somebody who knows how to dress. Nishiki can't see his face, but Oda's holding an umbrella above him, disregarding the fact that his own clothes are getting drenched, and looking at nothing else.

Then, Nishiki thinks, this must be–

The exhilaration, which makes his heart beat faster from how excited he's feeling all of a sudden, is quickly replaced by dread when Nishiki realizes that Oda would kill him if he noticed him. Yet, he finds himself following them alongside the next street, and watches as the rain gets stronger and Oda still refuses to sacrifice an inch of the umbrella for himself. They're walking close to each other, Oda's arm brushing against the other man's shoulder, but the staring is what gets him the most. At no point does Oda stop looking at his companion, effortlessly walking through the crowd alongside him.

Nishiki's standing in front of an exaggeratedly lit up ramen shop when he snaps out of it. Soon enough, Oda and the other man disappear through the crowd. He's soaked and has no idea where he is.

He spreads his fingers over his chest and wills himself to calm the fuck down.

For once, he decides to allow himself to stop dismissing his gut feeling. There is something going on – there has to be. His initial impression was right. He only wishes he could gather the courage to say something about it.

What, though? he thinks as he walks into the ramen shop and asks if he can order to go. What does he want to say about it? Could he really stand before Oda and ask, is this okay? Is this normal? How do you know where the line is drawn? Of course, he knows where the line is drawn. At some point, looking up to your friend for reassurance and comfort becomes looking longingly at your friend – still for reassurance and comfort – and he'd reached that point without barely noticing. Still, hearing someone else confirm it... hearing someone else say they understand... even if that someone else is some shady real estate crook with no fashion sense... When Nishiki pictures it – hearing the words – it seems almost too much.

He walks out with enough ramen to feed five men and a lot less money in his wallet, attempts to get his bearings, and thinks again as the rain continues to pour: how would Oda react, anyway? He's so secretive about the whole matter; it makes sense now that Nishiki thinks he's figured it out, but it's an obstacle that he can't underestimate. Not to mention he could beat him up again.

The risk seems worth it now as he walks alone through the streets of Kamurocho and reminisces about all the complicated feelings he's never been able to share with anyone, but next time he's face to face with Oda and his cold, smug smile, he can't be sure he'll feel the same way. Still, he thinks as he opens the door to Kiryu's apartment.

He sits next to him to eat and fiddles with his chopsticks. He tries to picture a different, but similar enough situation: what if he tried to ask Kashiwagi – an older, intimidating figure who would not hesitate to beat his ass – about dating women – a personal issue related to private feelings? He grimaces.

"You're not eating?" Kiryu asks, or attempts to, around a mouthful of noodles and egg and something else.

"Right," Nishiki mumbles, embarrassed that he'd been zoning out for long enough that Kiryu could notice. "Sorry."

"Something on your mind?" Kiryu presses on after swallowing.

Nishiki slurps on some of his noodles with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. "Oh, you know," he says after munching for a second, "the usual."

Kiryu raises his eyebrows, but it seems the dismissal was obvious enough, and he goes back to eating in silence, though not without glancing at his friend occasionally.

Said friend elects to humor him – later. He picks up a noodle with his chopsticks and goes back to his prior train of thought. Kashiwagi would probably laugh at him, if he has to be honest, but Oda would definitely get mad. Maybe he'd stop coming to Serena entirely. Nishiki shouldn't care about that, but he does, a little – a lot, now that he thinks he's found somebody he can talk to about this.

A long time ago, he'd tried breaching the topic with Kiryu, carefully. He doubts Kiryu even remembers. Nishiki was fifteen and keeping a secret from his best friend was so hard, especially when most of it involved him directly. He couldn't bring himself to fully admit it back then. Now, five years later, he can't say he regrets it exactly – but somehow he still retains this wild hope, at the back of his mind, that Kiryu would understand.

At fifteen, laying in bed at night and fantasizing about confessing to your best friend and being loved back didn't feel as pathetic as it does now.

Nishiki stares at the broth left at the bottom of his bowl, and frowns.

"You going to tell me what's up, or can I go back to the couch?" Kiryu asks somewhere to his left.

"Good night, bro," Nishiki replies.

On the last day of the week, Kiryu finally relents and sleeps on the futon, careful not to put pressure on his injured shoulder, and Nishiki sits next to him for two hours – or so it feels – watching him breathe in and out as he rests. He thinks about a way to describe how he's feeling and finds himself too embarrassed to even imagine saying it out loud.

Would Oda wax poetic about his boss? Nishiki thinks as he feels himself growing too tired to maintain his duties as sentinel for Kiryu's sleep.

Probably.

 
*
 

Having apparently decided that the week he'd spent looking after Kiryu was in fact a vacation, Kashiwagi piles up so many useless duties onto him afterward that Nishiki finds himself unable to think about anything but work. It's a relief, in a way: after days of angsting over whether or not he could confess his feelings to anybody else, it feels freeing to not have time to overthink it any further.

Still, when one of his jobs leads him to run into some of the hostesses he's gotten used to frequenting, his thoughts are brought back to his conversation with Kiryu. They're nice girls, well-groomed and confident enough in their ability to seduce men into giving them money. He does find them attractive, he thinks, but there's something special about the knowledge that they're only pretending. He's seen other men in clubs get cocky and think that they're actually good enough to get the top ranked girl to actually want to date them but Nishiki knows better. It's comforting to be praised and lavished by somebody who's made it their profession, and he'd be lying if he said that when a girl winks at him just right, he never thinks about how it would feel to actually date her, and how it makes his heart pound a little. At the end of the day though, he knows they're only providing a service, and they know that he's there to fill a hole that can't be filled by the person who's responsible for it.

He's never really thought about Kiryu when chatting with the girls, or kissing them, or anything further. He thinks about him now, barely registering what they're saying to him – something about how they missed their favorite customer and how other men couldn't compete, probably – and wonders why it feels so different.

He's still thinking about it hours later, having a smoke near one of the clubs. Obviously, Kiryu isn't a woman. If he were, Nishiki would have no reason to agonize over this to begin with. If he were, Nishiki isn't even sure how he would feel.

His head feels full again, and he realizes that he desperately craves seeing Reina. All the bullshit he wants to talk to Oda about can wait. He wants to have a drink at his friend's bar and talk about how painful it had been to look after Kiryu for a week. He wants to tell her about Kiryu shoveling ramen into his mouth so fast that his injured shoulder ached and he had to stop. She would find that hilarious.

He doesn't know if he wants to see Oda or not. Part of him – the part who's desperate for answers and reassurance from somebody who understands – wants to track him down and beg him for advice. The rest of him is afraid that he might not like Oda's answers – if he even agrees to give any.

So when he walks through the backdoor of Serena one late afternoon of the week that followed, Oda's absence fills him with a mix of relief and disappointment.

Reina lets him in with a slight frown, more concern than anything else. "Nishikiyama-kun, it's good to see you, but why didn't you come through the front?"

He doesn't know how to answer that question. The truth, of course, is that he'd been afraid to run into Oda on the way in. He can't come up with a convincing lie. Instead, he smiles in the most pitiful way he can muster.

"Sorry," he says.

She gives him a look, rolls her eyes, but then she smiles and lets him go. The bar is basically empty at that hour anyway, and Nishiki can only spot a girl sitting in a corner and smoking cigarettes. He walks to the counter and elects not to comment.

"Were you looking for Oda-san?" Reina asks once he's sat down. "I saw the way you scanned the room when you entered."

Nishiki grimaces. He wants to tell her about their fight now that Oda isn't there to make him feel bad about it, but if she refuses to serve him again, Nishiki doesn't know if he'll have the courage to track the man down himself. He figures he can get away with some half-truths.

"We got into a fight," he begins to explain. Reina slides a full glass toward him and he takes a sip before continuing. "A few weeks ago. Before the last time we were here together."

"Really?" She immediately looks wary, and Nishiki thinks that maybe he won't be able to walk this back. "You seemed to get along fine."

"Oh, well," Nishiki stammers. "It's complicated."

"You weren't looking to get into another fight with him, right?"

Her stare is piercing. Nishiki fiddles with his glass before answering. "No... of course not."

Reina sighs – from relief, he thinks.

"You got me all worried. Oda-san came around yesterday evening, and he was in bad shape, so I thought..."

She trails off, and Nishiki frowns. Bad shape?

"What do you mean?"

"He refused to give any details about it, but he said he got into an altercation with some thugs who outnumbered him. He asked if I'd seen you recently, but I hadn't, so..."

This has nothing to do with him, and yet Nishiki still feels a twinge of culpability, as if it is his fault somehow. "Thugs" could mean anything, of course, and even if Oda had gotten into a fight with some Tojo clan goons, he still wouldn't be involved.

Yet, Oda had asked Reina if she'd seen him. Does that mean he thought he was involved?

"Do you think he'll come back tonight?" Nishiki asks.

"Maybe," Reina says, unsure. She shrugs a little. "You're certain it has nothing to do with that fight of yours?"

"No way. I didn't tell anybody that I'd gotten into a fight with him except you until now. I bet I'm far from the first sucker he's beaten up." He pauses to take a drink, and ponders. "He probably deserves it."

Reina makes a disapproving noise, but doesn't disagree.

They fall back into their usual pattern as the afternoon morphs into the evening. Reina does laugh when Nishiki recalls Kiryu's total disregard for his shoulder in favor of eating as much food as he could, and soon enough the tension brought on by their conversation about Oda has completely dissipated. The bar fills up slowly, then empties out again, and Oda is still nowhere to be seen.

It's past a reasonable hour when Nishiki relents and has to admit that Oda won't show his face. Reina has stopped serving him drinks and is sitting next to him in her now empty establishment, watching him carefully.

"What did you need to see him for?" she asks, after hours of politely avoiding the subject.

Nishiki tries to think of a way to phrase it that's not too harsh, but he's tired. "It's personal. Sorry."

She doesn't look hurt, exactly, more like surprised. Like she'd expected him to want to see Oda so they can settle some kind of business matter. Nishiki lets out a frustrated sigh and throws his head back.

"I'm gonna go, I can't afford to stay this late," he says, and closes his eyes. "My superior has been up my ass recently, as we've discussed."

He hears Reina make a reassuring noise next to him.

"If you see Oda," Nishiki adds before he can have second thoughts – he opens his eyes and straightens up to look at her, "could you tell him that I'll be waiting for him behind your bar this Saturday? If he wants to see me."

"Of course," Reina says with a smile. He thinks she looks worried, maybe.

He is worried himself when the day comes and he walks through the heat to get to Serena. He doesn't know what Oda wants, first of all, but more importantly he feels like he doesn't know what he wants: answers? reassurance? Maybe he wants them to fight again, or maybe he wants to see the look on Oda's face when he asks him if he's always this obvious about how badly he's in love with his boss.

Nishiki hadn't seen him clearly, hidden by the umbrella. He wonders what he looks like. He wonders if he's handsome.

He shakes his head to clear his mind.

When he's approaching the corner that leads behind the bar, he slows down and takes a peek. It's tactical, not cowardly, he tells himself, even though his stomach is wound up so tight it's a miracle he's not nauseous.

Fortunately – unfortunately – Oda is actually there. He's holding a cigarette that he's not smoking, and Reina wasn't exaggerating when she'd said he was in bad shape. He can see the bruises on his face even from where he stands, especially the large one that's spread out from his upper jaw to the middle of his neck. Nishiki didn't even know you could bruise like that.

It gives him the incentive to move. He's not sure why, exactly, but there's something oddly relatable about Oda's sorry state. It makes him feel more approachable.

"You look like shit," Nishiki says loudly to announce his presence. Oda's eyes are darker than he remembers, but maybe it's from all the glaring.

"It's good to see you too," he drawls, trying for disdain, but from the way he's speaking Nishiki thinks that talking might actually hurt his mouth. He feels bad, even though it's not his fault and even though Oda would have probably hurt him even worse during their fight had he not managed to convince him not to.

He walks until he's close enough to see that there's a wound on Oda's lower lip that hasn't closed yet. He grimaces.

"What happened to you? Reina told me you got beat up but I didn't think it was that bad."

Oda tries to go for something like a snarl but then winces from the pain in his lip. He discards his cigarette and smashes it under one of his hideous shoes.

"I was gonna ask you the same question," he says, and carefully touches his jaw with his now free hand. "Some of your colleagues did this to me."

"Did they? You seemed like you could put up enough of a fight to avoid ending up like this, last time."

Oda looks at him like he's the most outrageous and disgusting thing he's ever seen. "Sorry I can't keep up against five of you fuckers."

"Five? Man, they must have really thought you were gonna fuck them up, huh."

He's going for complimentary, but Oda only looks further annoyed, like he's dealing with a child.

"I don't have anything to do with this," Nishiki says, crossing his arms to hide his embarrassment. "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes," Oda says, and then immediately after, "no, actually. Forget it."

Nishiki rolls his eyes. "You're such a pain."

"You know, I thought your kind cared a lot about respecting your elders, but I was clearly mistaken," Oda growls, and he actually sounds bitter.

It takes a lot of willpower from Nishiki to not laugh at that.

"You're not yakuza, I don't owe you any respect," he says, and Oda scoffs. "You can't make me do anything."

"I can kick your ass," Oda says. He sounds less annoyed and more entertained, now.

"Been there," Nishiki mumbles.

He thinks Oda's fighting back a smile. Nishiki thinks he's enjoying this, too, kind of. It's different from the banter he'd exchange with Kiryu. It's less teasing and more of an exercise in how rude he can be before he starts getting punched.

In his current state, though, he doubts Oda would want to throw punches, so maybe it feels a little bit too mean for once. Oda presses his fingers against his wounded lip and frowns.

"She said you wanted to talk to me, too," he says, as if he's just now remembered. "What was that about?"

Upon hearing these words, an iciness begins to spread slowly from Nishiki's stomach to the tip of his fingers and his toes. He looks away. He looks at the stairway up to the bar, and he looks at the dirty wall, and he looks at Oda's shoes. His mouth is dry and he wishes he could just walk up and ask Reina for a drink.

He's come up with a lot of opening lines for this, staring at the ceiling when he couldn't sleep during the week he'd spent looking after Kiryu. He's come up with a lot of scenarios, too. In most of them he's drunk, and in a few of them it's raining. In one or two, he even cries a little.

In none of them is he standing completely sober next to Oda in the dim light, just the two of them and some rusty stairs for company.

Briefly, he thinks about running away. Not literally, he'd look like an idiot, but figuratively, coming up with an excuse on the spot, pretending that he'd said that just so Oda would agree to see him alone, or making a (moderately) clever joke at the expense of his fashion sense to piss him off and drive him away. It feels like a waste.

"Did she tell you that I told her we'd had a fight?" Nishiki asks. He wonders whether he should get closer to Oda, or further away.

"Yes." Oda's tone betrays his impatience, but he's not looking at him with anger at all anymore, more like curiosity. "She wasn't happy about it."

Nishiki watches him ruffle through the inside of his jacket and pull out his cigarettes.

"You look tense," Oda adds. He's smiling, showing some of his teeth like a dog baring his fangs before biting. He takes one cigarette out and hands it over.

It feels like a peace offering, and Nishiki isn't sure how he feels about that. He snatches it from Oda's hand and lights it with one of his lighters, freshly taken back from Kiryu.

He blows smoke in Oda's direction. Right. Kiryu. That's why he's here.

"I wanted to ask about your boss," Nishiki starts, carefully.

Immediately, Oda tenses up; it's visible in the way he clenches his jaw, narrows his eyes, and furrows his brow. In any other circumstances, Nishiki could have laughed.

"What about him?" Oda says, feigning nonchalance.

It's a good thing that he's injured, all things considered, because he might be less willing to make it physical. Nishiki looks at the stairway so he doesn't have to look at Oda when he speaks.

"I saw you with him a few weeks ago. You were walking in the rain and holding your umbrella above him–"

"Are you stalking me?" Oda interrupts. He doesn't even sound mad. When Nishiki sneaks a glance at his expression, it's mostly bewilderment.

He takes a long drag on his cigarette before continuing. "It was a coincidence... but..."

"You're freaking me out," Oda groans, and maybe he is starting to get a little angry. "Get to the fucking point."

"You're in love with him," Nishiki says in one single breath, as if he's afraid he might chicken out if he stops to inhale, "right?"

He doesn't want to look at the face Oda is making, but he can't stop himself from doing it anyway. Oda's jaw is set even tighter than before, his half-open mouth showing clenched teeth, and he's glaring at him like he's contemplating different methods of execution.

Nishiki holds his half-smoked cigarette up to his lips and says nothing more. They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity.

"This is such typical yakuza bullshit," Oda spits out suddenly, breaking the silence. "You can't mind your own fucking business."

"No," Nishiki says before Oda can go on ranting, and his voice sounds pathetic to his ears. "I'm not saying this to– I don't want to mock you or... threaten you."

Now that he has to, he doesn't know how to explain it. It feels impossible to actually say the words, to hear himself actually talk about it to someone else, even someone who understands. He opens his mouth, closes it, frowns. He thinks maybe he could say, I understand! or, I feel the same! or anything, really, fucking say it, but instead he just keeps staring, wordlessly begging to be understood. His heart is pounding.

Something slowly creeps up on Oda's face. A realization. An understanding. His eyebrows raise up in disbelief.

"Oh," he says.

Nishiki wants to disappear.

"I see." Oda still looks angry, but now there's a layer of something else on top of it that Nishiki thinks is probably contempt – or pity. "That's what you wanted to talk to me about."

Nishiki's hands feel cold, which makes no sense in this weather. He's been holding his cigarette without smoking it for too long. He lets it go and watches what's left of it drop to the ground.

"I don't know what you expected from me, but you're not getting it," Oda goes on. His voice is lowering with every word he speaks. "We'll pretend we never had this conversation–"

"No!" Nishiki yelps, cutting him off again. He walks hastily in his direction, tries to get closer, but Oda's turning away. "Just listen to me."

Oda ignores him.

"Please." Nishiki reaches for his arm, but he's slapped away before he can even touch it. Oda's eyes are merciless.

"Don't push your luck," he sneers, and leaves him behind as he walks up the stairs to Serena.

Nishiki watches him until he's pushed the door open and walked in, and covers his face with his hands.

He's an absolute idiot. He was too blunt. He didn't get to the point fast enough. He was foolish to think that Oda would react well to this kind of conversation, or that Oda would want to help him. In truth, he can't even remember what, exactly, he'd imagined would happen. Did he really think Oda would grab him by the shoulders and share with him all the intricacies of being in love with another man?

He's not going to cry. He's not. He's too old to cry, old enough to ignore the gripping emptiness that's spreading through his chest–

There's a sound from above. Nishiki looks up to see that it's Reina, standing at the backdoor of her bar, looking for him.

Does she know? Did Oda tell her? If Reina decides to hate him because he has feelings for a man, he might actually cry – but no. Oda wouldn't be able to tell Nishiki's secret without compromising his.

(Although he didn't try very hard to hide it, in Nishiki's opinion.)

"Nishikiyama-kun?" Reina calls out, leaning against the railing. "Are you alright?"

It looks almost like there's somebody else behind her, a silhouette in the doorway who Nishiki can only assume is Oda.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he shouts in answer. He lets go of his face. He wonders whether she would be suspicious if he went home right now.

"Come on up," Reina calls out again. "The bar's empty."

That's a lie – Oda is there – but Nishiki can't help but think that a couple beers, or a dozen, would help a lot with how he's feeling right now.

He's in a daze as he goes up the stairs, and still is when Reina holds him by the arm and smiles gently at him. He only snaps out of it when he sees Oda sitting at the counter, his back pressed against it, staring at the opposite wall as if he's alone.

That's for the best. That way Nishiki can also pretend that he's not there.

He sits three seats away from him – as far as he can manage – and tries to will himself to relax. Reina's worry is plainly written on her face, and if anything, focusing on lessening her anxiety offers a distraction from his own.

"It's really fine," he says, but he can tell he doesn't sound very convincing.

Reina glances at Oda, still staring in the opposite direction, and then back at Nishiki. She bites her lip.

"You didn't get into a fight again, did you?"

She sounds guilty, and Nishiki realizes that by virtue of having facilitated this meeting, she feels responsible for whatever's come of it.

"No," he says, looking into her eyes in an attempt to appear sincere. Oda makes a sound that's suspiciously close to a scoff.

"Do you want something to drink?" Reina asks. She looks slightly calmer once she's back behind the bar, as if it's her natural habitat. Nishiki supposes there are worse places to feel at ease in.

He nods. Oda says nothing.

The rest of the evening feels stilted, but uneventful. Reina tells him after his third glass that she'd arranged things so no one else would be at the bar just in case they actually got into a fight. Oda tries to drink the beer she's handed him and hisses when it burns against his split lip. He accepts the wet towel she brings without even looking at her or thanking her. Nishiki wonders why he's even still around. He wants to ask, but instead he crosses his arms against the counter and watches Oda clean up his wound behind the curtains formed by his own hair.

Then he doesn't wonder about much of anything because Reina keeps letting him ask for more drinks and looks at him like he's a terribly sad thing, and his brain stops working. She's asking him questions but all he manages to do is babble about how Oda is pissing him off.

He's started to doze off when he realizes that Reina and Oda are talking. Talking about him, even.

"Don't you think he's had enough?" Oda's voice still pisses him off. Nishiki wishes he would shut up for once.

Reina sighs and mumbles something that resembles an apology. She doesn't have anything to apologize for. If anything, Nishiki wants to thank her for the hospitality – and the consideration, and the alcohol – but instead he presses his forehead against the wooden counter and closes his eyes.

"No, I get you," Oda says, and his voice is getting annoyingly close. "This is my fault. I'll pay for it."

Nishiki's eyes are wet. He doesn't remember that happening. He doesn't remember much from the last hour or two.

Somebody puts a hand on his shoulder. He groans.

"Nishikiyama-kun," Reina says. "How are you feeling?"

"Thirsty," he moans against the wood. He hears Oda laugh, and Reina's hand feels heavier for a second. He imagines her glaring at him. It's what he deserves.

"I think I've given you too much to drink," Reina says, apologetic. "I'll call you a taxi."

"I'll take care of it," Oda says suddenly, much too close to him. Nishiki turns his head so that he can see where he is – so that he can glare at him, this time, with all his might.

Oda looks unbothered. Bastard.

"Are you sure?" Reina's voice betrays her worries. Nishiki agrees with her, at first.

Then he straightens up too fast and almost sends her tumbling. He'd forgotten about her hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, sorry," he says. "I'll go with Oda-san."

Reina's looking at him like he's a house of cards about to crumble. It's both reassuring – because it means he can count on her to know when he's messed up – and stressful – because he doesn't like having more people worrying about him.

He thinks about his sister. He's never told his sister anything that might hurt her. It's easier that way: for her, who doesn't have to carry the burden of all the shit he has to deal with, and for him, who can pretend for a time that he doesn't have to deal with it.

"Okay," Reina says. She still looks unsure. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and looks at Oda, and then back at Nishiki.

"I'm not gonna hurt him," Oda says, sounding mostly bored with the whole affair. "I'll just make sure he doesn't die until the taxi's arrived."

When Reina finally lets them go, after making sure that Nishiki really is fine with Oda as his chaperone, it's raining. The air feels slightly cooler, which is a nice reprieve, and the drops of water falling against Nishiki's skull sober him up a bit.

Not enough, though. They've barely reached the bottom of the stairway when he grabs onto Oda's sleeve without thinking.

"Why are you being nice to me?" he asks – then he frowns, because he isn't sure of the phrasing, all of a sudden.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Oda retorts. He doesn't move his arm away.

There's pity in his eyes, still. Even through the haze of the alcohol, Nishiki feels angry at that. "You know what I want," he says.

"Your sworn brother, right?"

Oda's smiling with his teeth again, his eyes empty of emotion even as Nishiki sputters and looks away, his grip tightening.

"Shut up," is all he manages to come up with.

"I'm having trouble following you," Oda drawls annoyingly slow. "You want us to talk about it or not?"

Nishiki sighs. His head is starting to hurt.

"Think I'm gonna be sick," he mumbles. That convinces Oda to break away.

The raindrops create a melody as they crash into his hair, drowning out everything else. He's already drenched. He brings a shaky hand up to his face.

"This sucks," he says. If he cries, maybe the rain will hide it. "I don't know what to do."

"It's just a summer downpour, it'll stop in like fifteen minutes."

"Not that," Nishiki groans, even though they both know that Oda knows what he meant.

They stand under the rain in silence. The world wobbles a bit but there's no nausea, yet. Nishiki thinks about too many things at once: Kiryu's sleeping face, Oda's shoes, what little he'd seen of Tachibana, Reina listening to him talk about Kiryu...

"This sucks," he repeats.

Oda slaps him on the shoulder.

"Come here," he says, as if speaking to a child. Nishiki finds himself unable to care about his aching shoulder or his bruised ego.

They settle under the porch of a closed shop in the nearby street. There aren't as many people out at this hour as Nishiki would have expected, but he figures the rain is probably to blame. He closes his eyes and listens to the less stressful melody of the drops hitting the roof above them.

"How is he?" Nishiki asks. It's easier with his eyes closed. "Your boss."

Oda shuffles next to him. "Oh, he's fine. I called him yesterday. He's mad at me."

Nishiki opens one eye to peruse Oda's expression, but he's looking away, his face tilted slightly as if in thought.

"Why?"

"We've been having disagreements, and also there's the fact that I've disappeared for a few days."

"Why?"

Oda shifts to give him a look. He doesn't seem angry, mostly tired. His wet hair sticks to his forehead. "I don't want him to see me like this."

Nishiki can't see most of his bruised jaw from that angle, but he can see his split lip. He frowns with both eyes open.

"I understand," he says – but he doesn't. He thinks about Kiryu driving him home after the fight. He thinks about caring for Kiryu's shoulder when it hurt too much.

The rain hits the porch roof harder and harder, as if echoing his confused thoughts.

"How long have you known?" Oda asks, without warning. Nishiki blinks.

He wants to say, what? He wants to say, I don't know. He wants to pretend that he doesn't get it. He presses his drenched hair against his face with his palms, thinks about a way to disappear.

"When I was a teen," Nishiki starts, but he can't go on. It feels like there's too much to tell, or like he's going to reveal too much of himself if he tells it.

He wants to ask, what about you? but glancing at Oda, looking away again with his face unreadable, he knows he won't get an answer. Instead, because minutes have passed and Oda isn't saying anything else, he asks a question that he's thought about every night he'd spent looking after his wounded friend:

"Is it... wrong?"

The words catch in his mouth. Maybe he's actually starting to get nauseous.

Oda doesn't turn to look at him. He stays still, staring at the rain that won't stop falling.

"Does it feel wrong?" he asks.

Nishiki isn't sure he knows the answer to that. Why would he have asked, if he knew? Does it even matter?

Sometimes, in the middle of the day, as he's running one of his stupid errands and shaking up a guy who owes money to the wrong person, what he's doing feels wrong. Not in a moral sense – he doesn't really care about that. He feels out of place, like he's looking at himself from the outside and thinking, really? That's it? That's the city life I've been dreaming of?

He does it anyway, though. Something feeling wrong doesn't have anything to do with something being wrong – which means that something feeling right doesn't have anything to do with something being right either.

He feels right when he's beside Kiryu. He isn't sure how he feels when he's... conflicted about him. The feelings themselves are warm and comforting, which he supposes is all positive, but the feelings he has about the feelings–

Fast-paced footsteps resonate through the street, wet, splashing sounds that make even Oda turn to watch as a man runs past them at full speed, soon followed by two other men yelling in a language that Nishiki identifies as Chinese. Oda smiles, like he's just heard a funny joke.

"I don't know," Nishiki sighs, dejected. "It's complicated."

"That's a no, then," Oda says. He's still smiling. "Let's go fetch you that taxi."

Nishiki wants to protest – the rain has settled down but they've barely scratched the surface of what he wants to talk about, and he's not even that drunk, honestly – but then he tries to follow Oda as he steps back into the street and finds himself stumbling all over the place. He almost slips on a puddle but grabs onto Oda's jacket in time.

"Sorry," he mumbles, and lets go of him.

Oda grabs him by the shoulder, hard. "Come on."

They're walking too close to each other. Nishiki keeps bumping into Oda accidentally, because he's apparently spontaneously forgotten how to use his feet, but the other man doesn't let go of him, merely gives him a look. His hand is gripping Nishiki so hard it starts to hurt after a few seconds, and Nishiki wonders whether it's meant as some kind of intimidation technique.

Only when a taxi finally notices them does Oda's hand let go of him. Nishiki checks his shoulder to see if it's still intact. It's mostly sore.

"You should go see him," Nishiki mumbles as he attempts to massage the soreness away.

Oda turns to look at him. "What?"

"Your boss. I'm sure he wants to see you."

A smile creeps up Oda's face before he can prevent it from happening.

"You're gonna want to talk about this again," he says, matter-of-factly.

Nishiki doesn't respond. He thinks about asking for money for the taxi, but decides not to push his luck, for once.

His smile still lingering, Oda seems like he's about to say something else, but instead he shakes his head and walks away when the taxi stops in front of them. Nishiki debates calling him back or waving goodbye before simply entering the car, slamming the door behind him a little too hard. The driver says something about it that he elects to ignore.

When he turns to look through the window at where Oda has gone, he's disappointed to see that he's disappeared. He doesn't know why he's disappointed. He doesn't want to find out.

It's an absurd hour when he finally gets home, and the thought of tomorrow's hangover is too daunting to consider, so Nishiki doesn't even bother taking off his clothes and falls asleep on his futon as soon as his moderately aching shoulder makes contact with it.

He dreams of Oda holding umbrellas for men he can't see clearly. When he wakes up, his head hurts too much to remember it. He hiccups in his bathroom and tries not to think about the mess he's in.

 
*
 

Three days later, he's walking down Tenkaichi Street – a familiar situation – when he spots Oda waiting under a streetlight. It's the middle of the afternoon. Nishiki's thankful for the fact that Kiryu is busy somewhere else in Kamurocho, far enough away that there's no way he'd show up without warning.

He takes a look around anyway, just in case, and then he rapidly side-steps toward him, trying his best to seem casual.

Oda's smirking in his most aggravating way when he reaches him.

"You know nobody's keeping tabs on you, right?" he drawls, and Nishiki wonders if somehow he's picked up on the perfect pitch and tempo to his speech designed to annoy him specifically.

"Why are you here?" Nishiki asks. He's still failing to appear casual, and he can tell, which only pisses him off and ruins whatever's left of his composure.

"Oh, so we only get to meet on your terms, I see," Oda says, fake disappointment dripping from every word. "I thought we could go for a walk."

"A walk," Nishiki repeats, as if that's going to make it make sense.

"You ever been to the Champion District?"

It feels like a trick question. Nishiki contemplates the possible answers: the truth is that yes, he's been there before, of course. Not for business, though; the clan's never sent him there. He was just curious. Some parts have... a reputation.

It was Kiryu who'd mentioned it. Something about a bar where he'd seen... unusual people. At the time, Nishiki had desperately wanted to ask how unusual, exactly, but had been too terrified of the possible answer to do it. So he'd decided to go check it out for himself.

Unfortunately, he'd been unable to get far enough to even find out where the bar was, stopped in his tracks by the sight of two men holding each other a little too close.

It had hit him differently than meeting Oda at Serena had – by hearing Oda speak, and watching him emote as he shared tales about his boss, he'd seen him as a person, a person who was like him. In contrast, the sudden confrontation with two complete strangers behaving in public in ways he'd only fantasized about filled him with the same kind of dread as the rejections he imagined getting from Kiryu. It wasn't normal. It was wrong. Disruptive, Kashiwagi might say. A disturbance to the way things are meant to be.

Nishiki clears his throat, staring at Oda's left earring. "Yeah," he says, doing his best to sound unbothered. "I've been there once."

He almost adds, "or twice," but he knows Oda will be able to tell if he lies about this.

Oda hums thoughtfully, like he's not really convinced but willing to let it slide for once.

"I think you'd enjoy it better with a guide."

"You want to go– now?" Nishiki can't hide the hint of panic in his voice. The clan's never sent him there, but that doesn't mean he's not at risk of running into some higher ranking yakuza who knows him. It is the middle of the afternoon.

"Why not? You don't look very busy," Oda points out. He's already walking, and Nishiki follows automatically.

"It's just– what's up with you and the Champion District, anyway?"

Oda frowns, makes a face like he's seriously pondering. "We have a lot of business there."

"What, your real estate thing?" Nishiki doesn't bother to try and not sound incredulous.

"Exactly," Oda deadpans. "My real estate thing."

There's a short silence between them, during which Nishiki contemplates the fact that Oda walks much faster than Kiryu, before Oda speaks again:

"You were right, by the way."

"Right..?" Nishiki repeats. He wonders if he's picked up the habit from Kiryu.

"He did want to see me."

It only takes a few seconds for the meaning to register – not because of the words, but because Oda's expression's softened just so that suddenly, his smile isn't giving Nishiki the urge to punch him. It doesn't last long, but it's enough that Nishiki can't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

Truth be told, he still has only a vague idea of the kind of relationship Oda has with his boss, but it's enough to make him wish he could have something close to it. Even just knowing that your feelings have been acknowledged and that they haven't forced the other party to break away from you... That already seems inconceivable. Forever out of reach.

"Was he mad?" he asks, staring at Oda's face for more hints.

"I think he's too busy to be mad, these days," Oda replies. He doesn't elaborate. It's oddly worded, but Nishiki thinks he understands.

"And you're not?"

"What, busy? Obviously not, since I'm here."

From the tone of his voice, Nishiki gathers that he's actually starting to aggravate him. It makes him feel a little more at ease – the whole matter of Oda deciding to take him out on a stroll remains unnerving.

"So you're not working with him these days?" Nishiki pushes, because he's curious, and because it's familiar.

Oda turns to glare at him. "What's with all the questions?"

He's closed off, as he always is, but Nishiki can't help but think that something about what he's just said has hit a sore spot. He thinks about backing off, but then he remembers that this is the man who came close to giving him a serious concussion. He deserves to be tormented a little.

"I'm just curious, you don't have to be so guarded about it," he says, rolling his eyes. "I'm not gonna use your information to steal him from you or whatever."

It only occurs to him that maybe pissing off the man who punched him into a glass window isn’t a great idea when Oda looks back at him to stare. He braces himself, glances around in case he needs to dodge – but instead Oda starts to laugh.

It's sort of... vexing.

"Oh, I love that," Oda manages to say in-between fits of laughter. "You think I'm afraid of you stealing Tachibana-san from me. Oh," he topples forward, as if he's actually going to fall from how funny the whole thing is, "your incredible charisma will win him over–"

"I get it," Nishiki grinds the words between his teeth. "You can stop now. People are staring."

It's not even true – they both know very well that people in this city have seen much worse and barely batted an eye – but Oda's pace has slowed down, and the sooner they've reached their destination, the better. He's not even sure why, but he's already sick of the painful knot that's formed in his stomach at the idea of going back there. He'd rather get it done sooner than later.

Oda allows himself one last melodramatic sigh as he rubs some tears out of his eyes with his fingertips. "You're no fun," he says.

It's only when they're crossing a busy street, stubbornly silent ever since Oda's outburst, that Nishiki suddenly realizes that the whole thing was a distraction. He feels like an idiot; he'd let Oda avoid answering anything about his relationship. Again.

"Why do you share all those things about him with Reina and not me?" he asks, walking faster so he's almost in front.

Oda smiles. "Why do you tell her all about Kiryu-kun but you've still barely said anything about him to me?"

He should have seen that coming. Nishiki hates him a little. "Because I know she's not gonna get it," he reluctantly admits. "She just thinks I want to talk about my good friend that I care about a lot."

Sometimes, he thinks maybe she gets it a little. When it happens, he usually ignores it, although there had been a few occasions where he'd just given up on sharing more anecdotes about Kiryu. The thought that she might bring it up would fill him with dread... but then, the next evening, nothing would happen, and things would be back to the way they were.

"Reina's good at her job, huh," Nishiki mumbles, defeated.

"That she is," Oda drawls, sounding as insufferable as ever. "Come on. Work those legs faster."

Once they've reached the streets adjacent to the district, Nishiki begins to notice a change in the crowd and in the way people look at him as they walk by. It's not hatred really, more like contempt, like the way he imagines most people want to look at yakuza but can't bring themselves to in fear of what they'd do to retaliate. Instinctively, he scoots closer to Oda, as if he expects him to help.

"Oh, they're not gonna do anything to you as long as you're with me," Oda says before Nishiki can open his mouth to ask. "People here are really fed up with your clan's bullshit, you know? You fuckers really can't let people live. Good thing us real estate folks are around to compensate."

Nishiki scoffs. He still has no idea what Oda's up to, and at this point he just doesn't care anymore. Whatever it is, he's probably better off not knowing. If it's business that could fuck over the clan, he'd rather know as little as possible so Kashiwagi doesn't feel obligated to beat him up to get information.

Not that he really believes Kashiwagi would do that. Most of the time.

"You think you're really hot shit, huh," Nishiki sneers, if only to take his mind off of his train of thought.

"Yeah," Oda replies immediately.

It's kind of funny. It's the kind of exchange he'd expect to have with Kiryu. He doesn't like it – the exchange, and the way it makes him feel.

Unaware of this inner turmoil, Oda stops in front of one of the tightly pressed buildings, and Nishiki follows suit. The bright signs at the door read Earth Angel, and they hurt Nishiki's eyes. He follows Oda in without a word.

The atmosphere is different from Serena's; the light is dimmer, the place is smaller. It's not bad, but it's not the kind of bar Nishiki usually goes for. Oda walks up to the counter and he continues to follow him dutifully, like he's his little brother he's taken with him to do grown-up things.

"Yo," Oda says. He looks different in this light, sharper, in a way that makes Nishiki's stomach tense, so he turns to look at the bartender instead.

She's wearing heavy make-up, hiding some traces of stubble. He's seen the type before, in Pink Street, performers and sometimes even hostesses. It doesn't do much for him, but he doesn't mind it; he's seen what some men will do to these bearded girls, grabbing them roughly, yelling at them in harsh, slurring tones. Once, Kiryu ran to the aid of one who'd been dragged to a backstreet for reasons neither of them wanted to think about. He blinks.

"You're staring, darling," she says, snapping him out of it. He feels his face heat up from the embarrassment. "First time?"

"No, I," he starts, sneaks a glance toward Oda who just looks bored, "sorry."

She smiles, like she's used to it, and she probably is. "Oda-san," she coos, "who is this?"

"Mama-san, Nishikiyama-kun," Oda says, and then he sits at the counter and takes out a cigarette from his jacket's pocket. "He likes men."

Nishiki feels light-headed suddenly, and grabs onto the nearest seat until he's firmly set on it and can glare at Oda. "You just–"

"What?" Oda doesn't even look at him, too busy working his lighter. "It's true."

He doesn't know what to reply to that, so instead he watches Oda breathe out smoke slowly. The tips of his fingers feel tingly.

"We'll have whatever alcohol you'll serve us," Oda says, leaning against the counter. "I'm not sure he's actually old enough to drink, though."

It doesn't sound like he thinks it's that much of a deal, and from the amused look on Mama's face it seems she doesn't mind either. She takes out a bottle of what Nishiki thinks is whiskey and pours them two generous glasses.

"I am old enough to drink," Nishiki mumbles angrily once Mama's walked over to another customer who's just entered. He watches them from the corner of his eye; a man in his forties who seems to be a regular. He wonders if he likes men or bearded women.

"No you're not," Oda says before chugging his drink down in one go. He coughs into his sleeve and then adds: "Reina knows, by the way."

"What!?"

"She knows you're not twenty yet," Oda explains with a self-satisfied smirk. "She told me."

"You– did you just bring me here to humiliate me?" He can't help his voice from raising a little. He takes a sip of whiskey to try to calm himself down and appreciates the warmth that slides down his throat.

"I brought you here to talk among people who aren't gonna tell on you." Oda takes a long drag on his cigarette and blows the ensuing smoke directly in Nishiki's face. "We can leave, if you've changed your mind."

He hasn't, of course. He covers his face with his hand and sighs.

"I've never been to a place like this before."

"Thought so," Oda says. In the space between his fingers, Nishiki watches his face take on a thoughtful expression. "I don't come to these places very often, if that makes you feel better."

Nishiki slides his hand away until it lands under his chin. "Why not?"

"I don't need to meet people. I was already settled when I came here." His eyes are dark and unreadable, like always when he's brushing the topic of his relationship. "It's always good to know, though."

"So you're bringing me here to learn more about the scene so you can get rid of me faster? Is that it?"

It's not the first time he finds himself sounding like a child in this situation. Still, he pouts. In response, Oda rolls his eyes.

"I mean, that's part of it," he says, and Nishiki frowns. "You might have noticed I'm still here, though."

"Yeah, go figure," Nishiki mumbles. He takes another sip, and then another. The whiskey burns the back of his tongue and mouth for a few seconds until it fades away.

"So then, are you planning on confessing? Try to get into your sworn brother's pants?" Oda's blowing more smoke toward him, thin grey strands that fill Nishiki's vision temporarily. "It's way less difficult to get them to fuck you than love you, I'll tell you that."

If his face is burning up, Nishiki decides to ignore it, focusing instead on admonishment. "I don't–" he starts, meets Oda's eyes, and thinks that he can see the things Nishiki's picturing in his mind as he considers the idea. He catches himself up again. "I don't know."

That's not what he meant to say. He meant to say... I don't think about this stuff, maybe. I don't want to, surely not. I don't think he would get it, probably.

His shoulders are sagging. He swallows some more whiskey just to focus on something else.

"Hmm," is all Oda has to say to that.

"I mean– you know how this goes, right?" The warmth of the alcohol is helping him see more clearly, and he feels himself gaining confidence as he speaks. "You don't just blurt out your feelings like that. With guys, I mean. That just doesn't happen."

"You blurt out your feelings with girls?" Oda asks, eyebrows raised in astonishment.

"Y–yeah," Nishiki says, unsure suddenly. "You don't?"

"I don't talk to girls outside of Reina." He shrugs, like it doesn't really matter, and then adds, looking over Nishiki's shoulder: "And Mama-san here, I guess."

She waves at them from where she's still tending to her customer. Oda winks at her, raising his glass to show that it's empty.

"You don't like girls," Nishiki says as it dawns on him.

"Not really. It's good that you do, though. Makes things easier."

"Easier," Nishiki repeats. He nods to himself.

"It's nicer to not have to pretend," Oda says, crushing his cigarette into the ashtray. "Or so I've heard."

Nishiki wants to ask about that – about the way Oda seems to live with himself. He doesn't think he'd get many answers.

"It doesn't do much for your current situation though, I suppose," Oda adds. He lights himself another cigarette.

"That thing you said, about fucking and loving," Nishiki starts, glancing at his reflection in the alcohol that's left in his glass, and then back at Oda, "is that... first-hand experience?"

He thinks Oda looks annoyed for a second, eyebrows twitching, but then it's gone.

"Look, I'll lay it down for you. The men you run around with – your yakuza brethren or whatever the fuck. They care a lot about looking tough, right?" Mama's walking back toward them. He pushes his empty glass in her direction without losing sight of Nishiki. "Now tell me this: who falls in love with men?"

Nishiki's hands feel very cold where they're gripping his glass. He blinks. "Women?"

"Exactly." He doesn't deserve to look so smug. Nishiki wonders if he's like this with everybody and if that's why he was so messed up the last time he'd seen him. "Men don't want other men to think they're women."

"But... that doesn't explain the fucking," Nishiki replies. Mama gestures to ask if he wants a refill, and he nods silently. He watches her pour it so he has a reason not to look at Oda.

"As long as you're putting your dick in, it's fine," Oda says, as if it's some obvious unwritten rule of the world.

"That doesn't make any sense," Nishiki mumbles into his glass.

"I didn't say it made sense. It's just a way of rationalizing it."

It's very tempting to ask about whether Oda puts his dick in or not. Nishiki considers the pros and the cons as he drinks more whiskey. Mama's too nice to want to provoke a fight in her bar, he supposes. Although, from the way their current conversation is going, maybe Oda would have some kind of smug retort to that.

"Do you care about this stuff?" he decides to ask instead.

"What, masculinity?" Nishiki expects him to deflect with a joke, but Oda seems to seriously consider his answer before responding. "That shit can get you killed, you know."

Nishiki stares at him, tries not to make it too obvious that this is the kind of thing he tells himself in the worst of times.

"Especially in your field of work," Oda says, voice dripping with contempt. "It's not like you're among brainless salary-men who'd just look the other way. It's a liability."

"You're scaring the poor kid," Mama laments from behind the counter. Nishiki turns to look at her, carefully scrubbing a freshly washed glass.

"I'm just telling the truth. You gotta know who you're sharing this kind of info with."

"Kiryu would never," Nishiki starts, suddenly bristling with anger at the suggestion. "He would never hurt me. For this– or any other reason."

It's true, and he believes it, above anything else. He doesn't fear any retaliation from him other than disappointment and rejection. He can't say as much of the other members of his clan.

"Right," Oda says. He blows the last puffs of smoke from his second cigarette and looks at Nishiki like he's the most pitiful thing. "That's what you think, huh."

"That's what I know!" He didn't mean to raise his voice – or maybe he did.

"Give him a break," Mama pleads. She puts the glass back with the others. "He's young. I remember being that age..."

Oda's lips strain to form something akin to a smirk. "I remember being that age too and getting beat up for looking at guys a little too closely. I'm just saying."

"Maybe this is just a bad idea," Nishiki mumbles, defeated. Even the warmth of the whiskey in his mouth doesn't feel as comforting suddenly.

"I mean, if you trust your guy not to leave you for dead or worse," Oda says, almost begrudgingly. "You can give it a try. Maybe get him drunk a little and ask if you can suck–"

The sudden clatter of a bottle loudly hitting the counter cuts him off and startles Nishiki. He looks up, sheepish. Mama glaring daggers at Oda is somewhat comforting, and kind of hilarious.

"Honey," she says without looking away from the object of her annoyance, "you've picked the worst man to take advice from, I'm afraid."

Raising his hands up in front of himself in a shrug, Oda laughs, a warm sound that reminds Nishiki of their earlier conversation.

"Can't say you're wrong about that." He shakes his head. "S'not like he had anyone else to ask. Besides, it is good advice!"

"No it's not," Mama says, firm. "Kid just wants to be loved. Come on."

They're bickering, shooting scathing remarks at each other above the counter like it's a tennis net and they're playing a verbal match. Nishiki tunes them out, because it feels pointless to listen to them argue about whether or not he's putting his life in danger by confessing to his best friend, especially considering he's probably not even going to do it.

He wants to.

It's hard not to want to. Kiryu is the person he's closest to – it's different from his relationship with Yumi, because as much as he loves and cares for her, there's no way she can understand the things they've gone through and are still going through as yakuza. It's a good thing. He wouldn't want her to understand most of it, only the nicest part – but that's impossible, of course.

Kiryu, who's always by his side. Kiryu, who trusts him with his life. Kiryu, who'd die for him.

He's running out of whiskey again.

He's about to ask for another refill, but he's interrupted by Oda, dragging his seat away from the bar when he goes to stand up.

"Whatever," he says, and Nishiki gathers that he's not missed anything important. "Can I use your phone? I need to make a call."

Her brow furrowed, Mama still nods, and guides him to the phone. She comes back alone a few minutes later.

"Don't mind him," she says to Nishiki softly. He turns to look at her as she grabs his glass to fill it up once more. "He's stubborn about the choices he's made."

"I don't know anything about that," Nishiki grumbles.

She chuckles. His glass is way too full. "I bet."

"You know about Tachibana..?"

"We don't talk about Tachibana-san." She smiles, apologetic. "Sorry."

It's hard to tell whether it's a lie, or a way to express that the people of the District don't want to give away too much information about their benefactor. Nishiki supposes it could be both.

"I just don't get why he's even bothering with me," he admits. He's surprised by his own honesty. Maybe the whiskey's to blame.

"It's hard to know what Oda-san thinks sometimes," Mama says. She adds, as if she's doing him a favor: "He seems to like you."

Inexplicably, Nishiki feels his face heat up. "What? Really?"

"Well, I've never seen him bring someone here before," she explains, rubbing another glass clean. "Not that he comes here very often, of course."

"Do you... like him?" Nishiki asks. He's not sure why he's asking that question out of all the ones he has in mind.

She blinks at him, apparently just as surprised, but then she smiles. "He's got some good in him."

"That's not really an answer."

"Maybe not," she says. "What about you?"

"Do I like him?" Nishiki frowns. "He punched me into a window and almost gave me a concussion, you know."

Mama hums. She puts the glass down, picks up another one. "That's not really an answer either."

With a huff, Nishiki shrugs.

"He's a weird older guy I met in a bar who just happened to... share some of my interests. I've hung out with worse people."

"I could say the same about you, brat," Oda's voice says behind him. Thankfully, it's not enough to startle him, so he's at least spared that humiliation.

Nishiki glares at Oda as he sits back down. "If you'd at least give me actual good advice, this wouldn't be such a waste."

He turns away to stare at his overflowing glass of whiskey. It's unreasonable, and he knows it, but he can't help but wish that Oda could provide him with a perfect presentation of what it's like to be this way and how to live with it and how to behave around your best friend-turned-crush who's most likely not on the same page. Preferably with no tangents about how to get into said best friend's pants.

"What do you want me to say?"

Nishiki expects annoyance, but this time again Oda sounds exhausted more than anything else. He wonders what the phone call was about. He doesn't dare to ask.

The answer doesn't come to him easily. He can't say what he really thinks, because he knows Oda would never provide that – but he doesn't know what else to say. He carefully lifts up his glass with both hands and takes a sip and then another, and then another for good measure. He can feel Oda staring.

"Just be honest," Nishiki blurts out after he's drank most of his whiskey. His throat is uncomfortably hot.

He thinks he can hear Oda chuckle to himself next to him, but he doesn't want to look. He taps against the glass with the tips of his fingers.

"Well," Oda sighs. "You're an underworld brat, so you're unlikely to pass forty or ever have children, so that's a non-issue. Plus you can hold yourself up in a fight against a man who's a decade older than you, so you'll probably survive the beatings. Now, I don't know if you'll be happy, but–"

"You're a decade older than me?" Nishiki says, whipping his face to the left too fast to look at him. Oda's upper lip curls up into a halfhearted snarl to bare his teeth.

"I'm trying to be uplifting for once and that's all you're getting from it," he says in an exaggerated tone of disappointment, his eyes half-closed and his face pressed against the back of his hand as he hunches over the counter with only his elbow holding him up. "You really have no respect for your elders, Nishikiyama-kun."

Mama laughs as she puts back some of her glasses, her back turned on them, and tries to cover it up with a cough.

"You're right," Nishiki says, and Oda lifts up one of his eyebrows in disbelief, "about the fact that I don't have much to lose."

"I didn't say that." Oda straightens his back and stretches, holding onto the counter. He yawns, and Nishiki can't help but think that he looks like one of those stray dogs Kiryu sometimes stops to stare at when they're walking through the backstreets. "If what you think about your friend turns out to be untrue, you'll have a lot to lose, I imagine."

"It won't."

"Even if he doesn't beat you up, he might still leave you, or think you're disgusting."

Nishiki turns back to stare into his glass. "I thought you were going for uplifting?"

"Now I did say that, huh," is all Oda has to reply before he yawns again.

"Tired already?" Mama says. Nishiki thinks that maybe she's trying to diffuse the situation, or change the subject, but then she adds: "Must be exhausting, having to deal with yourself all the time, huh."

"You can't even begin to imagine."

Oda's smile doesn't show teeth, but something about it makes Nishiki uneasy nonetheless. When he glances at Mama, she looks like she can see it, too; she's frowning a little, her lips slightly pursed as if she's unsure of what to say next.

"You alright?" Nishiki asks before he can stop himself. Oda's head turns to stare at him once more. "We can go. I've had enough to drink, I think."

"You're paying," Oda says. He doesn't add anything else. Instead, he stands up and walks toward the exit without even sparing a single look in Mama's direction.

"Looks like you said something that really struck a nerve," Nishiki says, searching his jacket for some coins.

"Something is up with him, but don't ask me what," Mama sighs. She takes the money and presses it against the counter with the palm of her hand. "Don't ask him, either."

"Oh, I won't," Nishiki laughs nervously. "Thank you."

"You'll be fine," she says, in lieu of parting words.

Looking at her one last time before he leaves, Nishiki finds her comforting on a level that Oda's never even attempted to achieve. He doesn't know if he'll ever be brave enough to come back here alone, but even just knowing that this place exists and that he can exist in it makes him feel better, somehow.

It's raining again, lukewarm droplets cutting through the lingering summer heat. The afternoon's slowly coming to an end, but the light outside still shines just as brightly as it did hours ago. Oda's standing next to the door, staring into the nearby street as if it holds some kind of ancient secret. He doesn't even react to Nishiki's arrival.

"Oda-san," Nishiki says, but it elicits no reaction either.

Mama's worried face flashes in his thoughts as he fights the urge to ask if something is going on. He's tired, too. He doesn't want to admit it, wouldn't say it out loud, but what he's craved from Oda all along has been understanding. A friend, maybe.

He doesn't think Oda could be his friend. He doesn't think either of them would let that happen.

"It's Kiryu, right?" Oda asks suddenly, his gaze still fixed far away from them. "What do you like about him?"

The rain isn't falling hard enough to be more than a slight annoyance, but Nishiki still wishes he'd asked that question back when he was inside, holding onto a warm glass of whiskey.

"You're asking me this now? After all the shit you've said?"

He doesn't expect Oda to respond, and so he isn't surprised when he doesn't. Nishiki sighs, moving strands of wet hair away from his face, and tries to focus on an appropriate answer.

This, in spite of his previous difficulties, feels easy to talk about in that moment, after the time they've spent together throughout the weeks, after Reina's compassion, after Mama's kindness, after all the ways he's seen Oda act that show that maybe there's something there that they have in common. Even if they can't be friends, that understanding does exist between them, and that's more than he could ask for from him at this point.

"I like that he's always looking out for me, and I like that he trusts me to do the same," Nishiki lets out hastily. "I like that he listens to me and doesn't try to make me feel like shit when I'm already going through stuff... I like our special bond. I'm glad that we're together and I don't... I don't want to lose him." He cuts himself short before he can say anything stupid – stupider. He stares at the back of Oda's head, the rain soaking into his hair.

"I see," Oda says.

Nishiki doesn't know about that, but he doesn't feel like arguing. He walks up until he's standing almost shoulder to shoulder with the other man, and looks up at the rainy sky.

"You're being honest with me, so I'll do the same," Oda goes on after staring into the distance some more. "The love I feel for Tachibana-san is different from the love you feel for your friend. That's why I can't help you with this."

"Is that so," Nishiki says, his voice flat. A drop of rain falls too close to his eye and he looks back down, at Oda's disgusting choice of footwear.

"Sorry to let you down," Oda drawls. "I took pity on you, but we're just different people." He pauses, as if he doesn't really want to keep going. "Maybe I was jealous that you can hold on to this kind of love even in your circumstances."

"You think I'm pitiful? Pathetic, maybe?" Nishiki's words feel more vitriolic than how he thinks he actually feels. It helps to say them anyway.

"I think you're cute, like a kid who's in love with his childhood best friend," Oda says, finally turning to look at him. "It's a good thing. Does make me want to shove you around, though."

"The way you say it, it doesn't sound like a good thing."

Absentmindedly, Nishiki taps the heel of his shoe against the wet pavement. If it makes a noise, he can't hear above the sound of the rain all around them. He thinks about running in the mud with his childhood best friend.

"I don't want to feed you bullshit about the way this world works," Oda says. Nishiki looks up at him, a quick glance: his mouth is twisting into half of a smile. He doesn't know what the other half is. He looks back down.

"Okay," he says, because it feels like he's supposed to say it.

It's as if he's in front of one of the higher-ranking members of the clan, answering for his wrongdoings. Except he's done nothing wrong, and for once, even Oda's attitude tells him that. Still, he can't help but feel some kind of tension, a sense of foreboding that makes him feel like a little kid.

"You're giving up on me," he adds, tongue too fast for his brain to stop it in time.

Oda scoffs, and the annoyance it brings to the forefront of Nishiki's mind feels like a balm, a momentary reprieve from this entire anomaly of an afternoon. Familiarity.

"Can't give up on something I wasn't working on," Oda says, punctuating his sentence with a light slap on Nishiki's back that makes him stagger. "You're not my pet project. You're just some kid I met in a bar."

Nishiki waits until he's sure that no more slaps are about to be delivered to speak again. "What kind of relationship do you have with your boss, then?"

"That's none of your business." Oda walks up to one of the nearby barred down shops, finally attempting to look for shelter from the rain. Nishiki follows automatically.

"I thought you were... uh," his words catch in his mouth when Oda turns to glare. There's less room to stand under the roof they found than the last time they were in that situation. Oda's shoulder is wet. "That one time. You had marks. O–on your neck."

"You a virgin?" Oda asks. Nishiki thinks he's misheard him for a second.

"No way!" he protests, much too loud and too fast. Oda's smirk makes his stomach tense in a way that he hates.

"Well, it's still none of your business, I'm afraid."

The rain settles down, and immediately picks back up. Nishiki stares at the puddles forming at the various entrances. He wants to ask if this is the last and only time Oda will indulge him like this, but asking a question he already knows the answer to feels pointless. When he turns to sneak a glance at him, Oda's eyes are closed.

A decade might as well be a century in the world they live in. "You're unlikely to live past forty," Oda had said, and he didn't sound like he was joking. Nishiki knows that all too well, heard all the warnings and the lectures back when he was even younger and convinced he could do anything as long as Kiryu was by his side.

He pokes at Oda's side with his elbow. "Hey, old man."

"Not old." One eye opens for a quick glance. "I like 'experienced' better."

Nishiki shakes his head, sending droplets falling down toward the last dry spots on the front of his suit. He only hesitates long enough to think about it and says, "Thanks."

He doesn't look to check, but he imagines Oda's other eye's joined in to stare.

"What for?"

"Oh, shut up. You didn't even do that much. I'm just being nice because you always look like shit." His elbow is still pressing against Oda's side, barely. "I'm being merciful."

"It's your turn, I see," Oda says as if that makes perfect sense. "You're welcome. Could have done without all the rain, though."

"Your fault for not asking Mama for an umbrella."

The idea strikes him as he's saying the words, but then he thinks about standing under the umbrella with Oda and realizes that it would most certainly be too much for both of them.

"Our debts are cleared," Oda says, side-stepping the whole matter. Nishiki imagines he doesn't particularly want to confront Mama just yet. "Now we can move on to something else."

"Like getting some rest?"

Oda laughs, a sharp sound. Nishiki doesn't hear much humor in it. "I don't think that's in the cards, unfortunately."

Something in the way he says it feels almost unsettling, as if he's thinking he won't be around long enough to rest, but Nishiki dismisses it. He knows the struggle of an unsteady future well enough to not want to get involved in it.

When the rain finally dies down, the early evening sun rises from behind the clouds, sending down orange rays of light that reflects against the puddles all over the street. It seems impossible that suddenly it is summer, as if it wasn't summer all along.

Oda's shoe splashes water everywhere when he steps away from where they'd hid for cover.

"I'd offer to escort you," he says, running his fingers through his hair to get rid of the wet strands in his eyes, "but I have something I need to get to, I'm afraid."

"I wasn't gonna ask," Nishiki retorts, rolling his eyes. "I think I'll manage."

"Great," Oda says with a shrug, and as he moves to walk away, he stops, as if struck by an idea. "What I said about sucking dick was true, you know."

Nishiki frowns. "You didn't say anything about sucking dick."

"I didn't? Well, that's too bad." He shrugs, smirking in the way that he's probably by now realized pisses him off the most. "See you around, kid."

"Yeah, whatever you say," Nishiki scoffs.

He watches him leave, hitting puddles with his heels and ruining the bottom of his pants, until he turns around a street corner and disappears.

Nishiki's stomach twists and growls before he can even take some time to think. He's hungry, the feeling previously hidden behind his anxiety. Maybe he should have offered Oda some dinner. There's a nagging worry at the back of his head that they're not going to see each other again for a while.

He starts walking without thinking, and has to quickly maneuver to avoid soiling his own clothes with splashes of dirty rainwater. When he's reached the main street once again, it's full of people hastily taking advantage of the reprieve from the rain to go out and go home. The sun has slowly begun to come down, hiding behind the tall buildings of the city. Idly, he wonders where Kiryu is. He thinks he wants to see him. See whether that puts some order into his thoughts.

Had Oda actually said something about sucking dick? Nishiki vaguely remembers him getting cut off. He did drink an unusual amount of whiskey; it still clouds his mind a little too much. He gives his stomach a tap when it growls again. At least in the overpowering cacophony of the busy street, no one could overhear.

Before he can will himself to change his mind, he looks through his pockets to find his pager and sends a message to Kiryu, a few numbers to ask what he's up to. He stares at it as he walks until he gets a reply, dodging the crowd. Kiryu's eating, he thinks. Sometimes the code they use doesn't match up perfectly. He quickly sends back a message asking if he can join.

When he's reached the nearest taxi spot, Kiryu still hasn't replied. Nishiki ponders the possibility that he might be with someone else – Kashiwagi, maybe, or another one of their higher-ups trying to convince him to pull off one of the worst kinds of jobs by feeding him expensive food. A taxi stops for him and he enters with no clue of where he's headed.

He gets out on Tenkaichi Street. Still no further response from Kiryu. His stomach hasn't stopped complaining throughout the whole ride.

As he stands on the side of the road, his eyes fixed on his pager, the rain picks up again. He figures he'll give Kiryu a mouthful when they see each other the next day, and resolves to eat ramen alone.

The rich, salty taste drowns out his sudden melancholy. Oda's words feel heavy on his mind once his stomach has finally found peace. Women like men. Men like women. They have children and form families. In the context they live in, it feels absurd to dwell on, and yet this time he allows himself to dwell on it.

If Kiryu was a woman, he thinks, dragging his chopsticks along the side of his bowl to catch some stray noodles he's missed, this would be easier, of course, but it'd be different, too. They wouldn't be sworn brothers. They'd have a different kind of relationship, more like the one he has with Yumi, or maybe Reina. If they dated, maybe he'd be putting her in danger. Maybe she wouldn't even want to date someone like him.

Would Kiryu want to date someone like him? The question almost makes him choke on his food. He's focused so much on the whole men thing, but maybe Kiryu wouldn't even want him anyway. Somehow, the possibility of that rejection hurts more than the scenario where he's getting beat up for liking men.

His pager buzzes in his pocket. He doesn't feel very hungry anymore.

Sorry, the message says. He waits for another, but nothing comes. His skin feels itchy and uncomfortable. Could Kiryu know something? Maybe he's seen him with Oda? What if he found out about Serena and Reina told him something? He's still panicking internally when he hands out his money and leaves the small, crowded restaurant. It's only once he's outside, the rain once again nowhere to be seen, that his pager buzzes in the palm of his hand.

Good night, Kiryu says in coded speech. Nishiki curses under his breath. That damn idiot. He's probably drunk out of his mind on food and booze and forgot to reply to him until he got home. He's definitely kicking his ass tomorrow.

He rereads the message and relishes in the way it's immediately calmed down his quickened pulse and shaky hands. This is the Kiryu he likes. He wouldn't want him any other way.

When he replies, he's home as well and ready to sleep. The first message says, Good night. The second, sent ten minutes later from his futon once he's finally gotten himself out of his wet clothes, says, Idiot. He hopes Kiryu forgot his pager on a surface that's hard enough that the clatter would wake him up, but doesn't stay up long enough to find out, instead letting what's left of the buzz he got from the whiskey drag him off to a dreamless sleep.

 
*


The next day, his encounter with Kiryu comes above all with the satisfaction of knowing he's not the only one who's nursing a hangover.

They run into each other past the Kazama family office. Nishiki's spent the whole morning ignoring the pounding in his skull and Kiryu looks like a mess, eyelids heavy with sleep still somehow, but of course he'd shown up dutifully to visit Kashiwagi as soon as he'd managed to get up. From the look on his face, all he's gotten as a reward is a lecture.

"Hey," Kiryu says with a quick, short nod. Before Nishiki can say anything, he adds, looking a little sore about it: "Sorry about yesterday."

"S'alright," Nishiki replies, smiling bright. "You owe me a meal."

Kiryu rolls his eyes, or attempts to. He yawns. "I always owe you a meal. Come on."

Nishiki lets himself be led to a nearby seafood restaurant, thinking about the angle he'd like to take for whatever conversation they're going to have. He isn't really considering confessing, but the thought is there, lingering. Trying to get the subject on the table could be interesting... or terrifying. Maybe both.

The place looks harmless enough, not yet full at this hour, pale pink walls decorated with posters of fishermen showing off their freshly caught prey. He's still thinking about what to say once they've sat at one of the tables, his eyes quickly scanning the flimsy menu, and so he barely registers when Kiryu begins to launch into an explanation of whatever he was up to the night before.

"They sent me to one of those clubs on Pink Street and I thought, you know," Nishiki hears, in the middle of inspecting a grainy picture that's apparently meant to depict a salmon-based dish. He looks up to glance at Kiryu's frowning face.

"You thought..?" he says, suddenly very interested in what his friend's talking about.

"Oh, now you're listening, after pretending not to hear all the parts about being forced to do stupid shit all over town," Kiryu groans, but then he goes on: "You know, when we were talking about your girls."

"You went to a club?" Nishiki says slowly, incredulous. He discards the menu, not very invested in seafood anymore. "Without me?"

Kiryu shakes his head, not unlike how Kashiwagi sometimes does it. "Don't be like that."

"Wait, you got wasted in a club on Pink Street?" Nishiki pauses for emphasis. "Without me?"

"I didn't get wasted," Kiryu protests in a tone that makes it clear that he absolutely did. "I just wanted to have a good time!"

"By letting hostesses sweet talk you into buying alcohol in a club on Pink Street? If I'd been there–"

"Well, you weren't," Kiryu cuts him short. He's annoyed, more than embarrassed, Nishiki realizes, watching the way his jaw tenses as he swallows whatever else he meant to say.

Nishiki finds himself unable to say anything, either. He picks up the menu again and tracks down the salmon dish he was considering just so he can focus on something else.

Had he done something wrong? Kiryu hadn't paged him about his escapade, so he couldn't have joined him even if he wanted to. Had his evening gone that badly? He remembers the deep-seated anxiety he'd felt upon thinking that Kiryu was mad at him the night before, and finds himself inching toward that state again.

A waitress comes over to take their order and he smiles at her automatically. She smiles back, her cheeks a little warm, and he feels some comfort from that simple reaction – until she's gone and he catches Kiryu glaring at him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you today?" Nishiki snaps. It's better to rip it off before they spend the whole meal in an awkward, tense silence, he supposes.

"Nothing," Kiryu lies, but he immediately adds: "You've been awfully busy lately."

What? Nishiki thinks.

"What?" he says, because nothing else comes to mind.

"Forget it."

It's unlike Kiryu to give up so quickly, which has to mean something. It's true that they haven't had many occasions to hang out together, outside of that sad little week where he spent all his time looking after his friend. In the rare instances where he'd had some free time, these days, he'd gone to hang out at Serena... with Oda. He'd spent so much of that time thinking about Kiryu that sometimes it felt like he'd actually been there.

Is it... jealousy? What for? Despite his previous alcohol-fueled paranoia, there's absolutely no way Kiryu could know what he'd been up to. He's sober enough to realize that.

An idea slowly forms into his brain, in lazy spirals, like a single strand of smoke becoming a cloud becoming a fog. He stares at Kiryu in disbelief. Kiryu stares back, frowning. He's holding his menu so tight it's almost cutting into the flesh of his fingers.

"I don't have a girlfriend," Nishiki says, pronouncing the words carefully.

The waitress chooses this exact moment to come back with their food, stopping Kiryu from launching into the verbal assault he's visibly considering, if his sudden sharp exhale is any indication. Nishiki fights the urge to laugh, hiding it behind a grimace that he hopes their waitress takes for a smile.

When she leaves after wishing them a pleasant meal with a quick bow, Kiryu looks like he's about to explode, and Nishiki thinks he might cry from how much he's holding the laughter in.

"I didn't say anything about a girlfriend," Kiryu lets out once he's sure she's gone. "Of course you don't have a girlfriend!"

"Why not!?" Nishiki snaps back, inexplicably offended more than anything else.

"We talked about it!" Kiryu shakes his head, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he's coming around to the absurdity of the situation. "I was worried you were hiding something from me."

"Like a girlfriend?"

"No, like some bullshit secret mission they ordered you not to talk about," Kiryu half-sighs, half-laughs, finally picking up his chopsticks to poke at his dish.

"And that explains the club thing how, exactly?" Nishiki asks. His salmon definitely doesn't look like the picture. Maybe they changed the recipe.

"It's like I said, I was thinking about our talk..."

"So you thought you'd make me jealous by going to a club on your own?" Nishiki says, mouth full of fish. "It totally worked, I'm super jealous. Were they hot?"

It's far from how he'd imagined this conversation going, but the familiarity of their exchange reminds him of all the things he'd told Oda about Kiryu and their friendship. The unusually sheepish look on Kiryu's face is just the cherry on top.

"Yeah," he says, before quickly shoveling an impressive amount of rice and seafood into his mouth.

"Found any short-haired confident girls?"

Kiryu rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He swallows as much as he can before speaking again: "What about you?"

Nishiki blinks, stopping as he's about to bite into another big salmon piece.

"What were you up to last night?"

He's committed to eating that salmon, and so he does, buying himself time to think of what to say. Of course Kiryu had picked up that something was up with him – he'd done his best to hide it, but he was acting weird whenever they were together. Meeting Oda has thrown a wrench in feelings that were very carefully tucked away since he was a teen. Sometimes it feels almost impossible to lock them back in.

Still, the opportunity to bring up the subject is there. Kiryu is being honest with him too, as honest as they can be while eating seafood of debatable quality.

Nishiki swallows.

"I was in the Champion District," he says, matter-of-factly.

"On clan orders?"

It's an easy enough lie, with very little consequences, and so Nishiki barely hesitates before nodding. "Yeah."

"Glad we were both having fun," Kiryu deadpans. He scrapes some rice away with his chopsticks. "How was it?"

"Huh," Nishiki lets out, before catching himself. "It's an interesting place."

"Right," Kiryu says, biting off a chunk of squid.

"I went to a bar," Nishiki goes on. "Met some interesting people there."

"I see," Kiryu says, munching on his squid with his mouth open.

The whole conversation feels stilted, in a way that his exchanges with Kiryu usually aren't. It throws him off; makes him want to come out and say it, see what that does to his friend's thoughtful expression as he waits for him to go on. He can't bring himself to.

"What do you think about it?" he asks instead. It sounds awful to his own ears. He takes another bite of salmon, but it tastes like dust against his tongue.

"About what?" Kiryu says, raising his eyebrows. "People's proclivities?"

Nishiki's suddenly struck by the thought that rather than coming off as hiding something about his own proclivities, he's sounding to Kiryu more like someone who's judgmental. He stays silent, focusing instead on what little food is left on Kiryu's side of the table, pressing his lips together to prevent himself from saying the wrong thing.

"I think it's good that people can have a space where they can be whoever they want to be," Kiryu shrugs, when it's become clear Nishiki isn't going to elaborate. "It's none of my business. Did something happen?"

There's concern in his voice. Nishiki wishes they could go back to talking about his imaginary girlfriend, or his imaginary secret mission.

"No, nothing happened," he says. He tries to smile, to ease off the tension that's risen in the last few minutes. "I was just curious, since you've been there before too."

"I'm surprised they even sent you there, it's not really our turf and the people hate us," Kiryu says, and Nishiki can't help but feel that he sounds almost relieved. "Though I guess I wouldn't be surprised if they were attempting to reclaim it."

"You really think so?" Nishiki asks, faking concern.

He's let his moment pass. Something about Kiryu's nonchalance – "It's none of my business," he'd said – fills him with an odd mix of dread and relief.

Of course, he wouldn't care about these things. It probably never even crosses his mind unless it's right in front of him. Oda had mentioned something similar, about salary-men looking the other way. Thinking about Oda makes him want to push again, a last ditch attempt before he retreats.

"Do you ever think about what it would be like to be, you know... into men?" he asks, leaning against the table, once Kiryu's done rambling about their hierarchy and Kazama and Kashiwagi, and the waitress has come back to take away their plates.

Kiryu looks at him like he's about to grow another head. "Not really." He stretches his legs as he stands, rummaging through his jacket for cash. "Do you?"

It's a joke, a jab meant in response to what he's interpreted as bait. Nishiki stares at the scratched up wood of the table. Somebody left what looks like a burn mark from a cigarette.

"Of course not," he says. He stands up and tries to think about something other than falling over.

They've just passed the threshold of the restaurant's entrance when Kiryu grabs him by the shoulders. It's playful, in a way Oda's touch has never been. It grounds him just enough to calm his jittery nerves.

"What was that all about? Got yourself a boyfriend rather than a girlfriend?"

Nishiki laughs, summoning some of the early bravado he'd had around Oda. "Wouldn't that make you more jealous?"

"I'm obviously the superior boyfriend," Kiryu deadpans. "Don't get any ideas."

"Oh, fuck off," Nishiki scoffs, pushing against him until they're taking so much space on the sidewalk that other people start getting in the way. "It was just a question."

Kiryu finally lets go of him when a middle-aged woman shoots them an icy glare.

"It's another kind of underground world," he says thoughtfully.

He's right, but Nishiki doesn't want to say it, nor can he allow himself to. He thinks about Oda discussing their particular situations and the ways it affects that aspect of their lives. He thinks that maybe, if they truly were stupid salary-men working alongside each other, maybe he could tell him.

Right then, as they walk through the crowd and talk about something else, like whether or not Kashiwagi will let them hide in the office and pretend they're doing work, he finds that he can't. Maybe he is a coward, after all.

He's feverish in the evening, once he's alone because Kiryu has something to attend to regarding yesterday's outing, driving himself mad with thoughts of how his confession could have gone. Would Kiryu think that his best friend – brother in arms – liking men is none of his business? Would he care a little? Would he care too much?

When Reina opens the backdoor to Serena, she smiles at him, confused. He knows what she's going to say. He doesn't let her say it yet.

"Is Oda-san here?" he asks. Reina opens her mouth, and then closes it. Her smile falters just a little bit.

"I'm sorry, but no," she says. "Are you alright?"

He doesn't want to lie to her. He imagines how he must look at that exact moment – haggard, his face pale with anguish. He tries to smile.

"No," he says, "but I don't think you can help, sorry."

She looks at him like she understands, worried eyes behind sharp eyelashes, but she doesn't. Her hand feels cold against his cheek. He lets her touch him, leans into it a little, maybe.

"Should I take a message?"

It's tempting, but her kindness and warmth only serve to make him realize that Oda isn't the person he needs right now.

"No, thank you."

Reina's hesitant to let him go, but he promises to come back soon, and better, and holds onto her hand as he says it so she knows he means it. There's more he wants to thank her for, but there'll be time for that later, when he doesn't feel like he's tittering at the very edge of a breakdown.

He waves for a taxi once he's reached the corner of the street. The driver looks at him oddly when he asks to be driven to the Champion District, but he doesn't care. He watches the buildings go by through the window and thinks back to his trip with Oda the day before.

It feels like an eternity has passed, like it's been ten years since they've talked outside Earth Angel under the summer rain, and ten years more since he's asked Kiryu about liking men. He's craving a cigarette, but when he looks through his pockets he finds nothing.

He tips the driver out of annoyance, for the satisfaction of watching the old guy's expression change when he realizes how much money he's getting. His gratitude is insincere but Nishiki doesn't care about that. As he makes his way toward the bar, he finds that every step he takes he cares a little bit less about everything but his current conundrum.

The place is much fuller than he expected. It stops him right in his tracks, pins him to the floor right in front of the entrance. Mama notices him and rushes in his direction.

The sight of her brings equal parts comfort and dismay. Nishiki's eyes are inexplicably misty.

"Are you alright?" Mama asks. She purses her lips as she takes him in. "On second thought, don't answer that. Come on in."

They brush past the other customers as she guides him to the counter, older men whose eyes linger long enough that the back of his neck heats up. When he finally sits, he's still not sure how it makes him feel.

"Want a drink?" Mama asks, gently.

It's a bad idea, but he nods anyway.

"I didn't expect to see you back so soon, honey," Mama says as she pours him a beer. Her slow and careful movements to make sure that it doesn't overflow are calming to watch. "Worries me a little. Did something happen?"

"I couldn't talk to him," Nishiki admits. He holds onto the glass she slides toward him as if it's the only thing keeping him above water. "I wish I hadn't even considered it."

The background noise of the other customers buzzes in his ears. He's not sure whether the crowd is comforting or only making him feel worse. He takes his first, long drink, loudly hitting the counter with the bottom of his glass once he's done with it.

"Well, it's not like you needed to do it right away." She's right, of course, and he hates that.

"I thought... it'd be easier. I tried to bring up the subject, but..."

It feels silly to say it now, to bring up Kiryu's reaction, which is close to nothing. Nishiki grinds his teeth and sighs.

"What did he say?"

He glances at her. She's doing the whole hostess act – he's much too familiar with it – but her concern doesn't feel faked. It reminds him of Reina.

"He said it's none of his business what people do with their lives." Nishiki shrugs, as if she's going to think that he's suddenly over it, and then slumps over his own drink. "It felt..."

"Dismissive?"

"I don't know." He sighs, again. He's starting to annoy himself. "I mean it makes sense that he wouldn't care about this stuff. He didn't react badly or anything. I don't know what I expected."

Maybe that's the core of the issue, all things considered. He thought he'd come in with no expectations, but actually he was secretly hoping something would happen. What, he isn't sure yet. Something that made him confident enough to confess, probably.

"I wish I could just go back to how things were before I met Oda," he groans, and takes another sip of beer.

"Silently pining?" Mama offers. Her smile makes her eyes glisten.

"You know how it is, one minute you're tending to a wound on your best bro's knuckles and then the next you're stuck thinking about how thick his fingers are," Nishiki says. It hits him a second too late, when the colors climb up his cheeks. "Forget I said that."

"Said what?" Mama says. Maybe her smile has gotten a little more mischievous. It's communicative, somehow, and Nishiki can't help smiling back.

"Thanks," he says. "I was freaking out but I think I'm starting to calm down."

"I understand the feeling," Mama says carefully, "but you don't have to rush this. You're going too fast, and it's making things harder for you."

Nishiki wonders idly if this is what it feels like to have a mother. It's an alarmingly warm feeling. He doesn't know what to make of it.

Seeing as he isn't answering and merely staring at her with his mouth half-open, Mama goes on: "Take your time, honey. Try again when you feel ready. That's all."

"What if I'm never ready?" Nishiki asks.

"Well, maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Maybe you'll find another boy you feel ready to confess to."

She laughs a bit at that, as if caught up in a memory. Nishiki frowns.

"I don't think that's going to happen."

"Oh, I can see why Oda-san took a liking to you," Mama teases, rolling her eyes.

He takes his time drinking what's left in his glass before answering. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Maybe you should ask him about it the next time you see him."

Of course, they both know that this is a pointless suggestion. Oda's made abundantly clear that he's not going to relent and give away any information about his relationship. All Nishiki has to reply to that is a loud, exaggerated laugh.

He lets himself grow less and less stressed as the evening goes by. When he gestures for a third glass of beer, Mama shakes her head sternly, and he doesn't even try to insist. At some point, a man who's definitely had more than three beers sits next to him at the counter while she's busy tending to someone else and starts rambling about the price of specialized hostess clubs. He's trying to explain something while gesticulating around the pager he's holding in his hand when it hits Nishiki that he's never asked Oda for his contact info.

Not that Oda would give it to him. He rubs at his cheeks and figures he can always ask Reina.

Once his forced companion finally collapses from the weight of all the alcohol he's consumed – mid-way through explaining some obscure business involving bees and his ex-boyfriend – Nishiki decides it's probably time to leave. Mama smiles at him and reiterates that he's always welcome and that there's no need to rush a confession, and he promises to come back soon.

He's sitting in a taxi and staring blankly at the neon lights reflected on the ceiling when his pager buzzes, sporting a message from Kiryu asking how he's doing. He replies quickly that he's fine, and that's that.

He is fine.

He's still fine the next day, when he buys flowers on his way to Serena and tries his best to seem as cheerful as he can muster for the duration of his stay with Reina. He's fine the day after, when Kiryu rags on him for the way he's answered his last message and how he shouldn't just sulk on his own. They go to the batting center together and maybe he lets Kiryu win because it warms his heart to see him so delighted and smug, and maybe he likes watching him play more than playing himself.

It's a week later when he asks Reina, as if he doesn't actually care about the answer, whether she's seen Oda lately. She hasn't.

When he visits Earth Angel again the week after, he asks Mama the same question, and she shakes her head and tells him what he already knows – Oda's never come around here much anyway.

When summer begins to morph into fall, he still hasn't confessed, and Oda remains nowhere to be seen. The thought of asking Kashiwagi about real estate in the Champion District area keeps floating at the surface of his mind, but whenever he has the chance he finds that he can't say the words.

Reina tells him that it's not unusual for Oda to not be around for months on end when he asks again, looking at him fondly like she thinks he's actually worried about the guy. He's not. He's worried about himself, and his inability to face his own feelings.

He thinks about Oda's advice – getting drunk and offering sex – but can't bring himself to try it. Instead, he fantasizes about how it could go when he can't fall asleep.

Sometimes, when him and Kiryu are just hanging out and he's free to enjoy his best friend's company without obsessing about whether he'd hate him for being in love with him, it's almost like he's going to say it. Kiryu leans against him to pick up a beer from the pack on the floor and the words are about to spill out, he's on the verge of letting them fall off his lips, unable to take them back, but then it passes, and he doesn't. Kiryu gives him a confused look, one eyebrow raised and something like a pout, and Nishiki laughs in his face.

It could be worse, all things considered.

Then winter arrives and Kiryu's sent to shake up some guy who's racked up too much debt, and everything collapses.


*


Much, much later, when Kiryu opens up about the whole Tachibana situation when half-way drunk at his place, Nishiki watches him talk and fights the urge to ask, "Do you think Tachibana loved him back?"