jigokulogs | [open] a real nightmare

They lose their glamour when you've been th'management.

[ When you've seen behind the curtain and it's all a big ruse. But putting on the ruse is fun. Being someone else for the night. That's the part that Majima enjoys. ]

What'd she say her guy's name was?

[ The ruse is fun. The suspension of belief. She's been around the block enough times to understand the reality of it all, but that doesn't mean she can't appreciate the fantasy. The escapism. ]

Keizobo, I think? [ A little shrug. ] Apparently he's got amazing legs.

[ Not anyone she knows. But hey, this guy has a finger on the pulse of the clubs around here, right? ]

That enough to go on, Mr. Manager?

Yep.

[ He takes out his phone and starts to poke through his contacts. He glances up at the sign as they approach the side of the club. Right, Keizobo at Club Infinity. Majima puts in the number and clears his throat.

When starts talking on the line, he's slipped into a breathy falsetto. His lilting Osaka-ben goes even more musical, ]

Keizobo-kun, did ya get into trouble on yer way home? Hm. I met a fan of yours, wanted t'make her day an' get a cute picture of ya. Uh-huh. Sure, I can do that for ya. In a little bit then.

[ He ignores Andy studiously as he accomplishes this task. Hanging up with a sigh and returning to his normal baritone. ]

He wants me t'bring him somethin' for lunch but he'll do it.

[ He puts his cigarette back to his lip and waits for whatever reaction she feels the need to have. ]

[ It's not even the voice that surprises her the most — although it is a surprise, judging by the way her eyebrows raise ever so slightly towards her hairline — it's how easy he does it. Like flipping a switch. And suddenly there's a whole different person coming out of his mouth. It's totally disparate with the look on his face. With everything. And honestly... It's impressive? Maybe even a little entertaining?

The fact that she feels that way sort of surprises her too. At her age — with her experience — she really shouldn't be surprised or impressed by much anymore. She has to take a drag off her cigarette before she can answer, huffing out a quiet half-amused exhale that probably fails to communicate everything she just experienced. Finally: ]

Well. This is clearly a one man show, and I'm just along for the fucking ride. [ Reaching out, she takes the undue liberty of clapping him once on the back. ] Can't wait to see what other shit you've got up your sleeve.

I'm pretty good in a fight too.

[ He answers lazily and doesn't really show any particular pride or ego for what he's done. It's a skill that he learned for survival. The yakuza he once worked for have placed him into increasingly precarious situations. He somehow survived a year in a black site, and when he was released he was asked to perform miracles.

So he learned how to. That persona was nicknamed The Lord of the Night; king among the nightclub owners in Sotenbori. This persona is Goromi; a hostess just like all the girls that he trained, only even more vibrant. She gives Majima a break from himself, from the expectations of yakuza life; all the violence and drama. All wrapped up in a pretty, controlled environment of fantasy. ]

We just need t'pick up some hotdogs though.

[ There, he smiles a little bit. ]

[ She supposes in a way, she's done a similar thing with her life — though stretched out over the centuries, it's not nearly so impressive. Different cultures. Different eras. Different identities as a necessity, to keep her immortality hidden. To change with the times. ]

Yeah? [ Her interest seems mildly piqued when he mentions fighting. ] Careful. You'll get me curious, and then I'll pick a fucking fight with the hot dog guy just to see what you've got.

[ That's probably a joke. Probably.

She nods up ahead where there's a few scattered food carts and vendors. ]

Come on, lunch is on me.

Oh yeah?

[ He's amused by the need to contribute, he figured she was really just along for the ride. Maybe throw out a few more snarky comments at his expense. But he's not complaining. ]

Ya can leave th'hot dog guy out of it, I'll fight ya some time if ya want.

[ He generally prefers not to hit women, but if a woman goes straight to 'let's see what you've fucking got then' he's not going to pretend like they can't handle themselves. As they get closer, he scans for the requested hot dog cart. He spots it: Japadogs. Hope you like mayo and nori shreds. ]

Edited (typo) 2022-05-15 03:55 (UTC)

[ She eyes him again, like she's deciding if he's serious or not. After a second though, she shrugs easily enough, apparently content with this arrangement. ]

Sure. Consider the hot dog guy spared.

[ Just in the nick of time too, because they're coming up on the hot dog stand and its vendor, who is blissfully unaware that there was, until Majima's merciful intervention, a nonzero chance that Andy might have socked him for funsies. Instead, she places her order like a normal person, then waits for Majima to do the same for himself and their host friend before she pays — just as promised. ]

Is that a thing you do a lot? Casually offer to fight strangers?

What, ya never talked to a Shuten before?

[ Shuten is a fucking type. ]

Come down t'the Arena, we'll get a crowd goin'.

[ There's a little manic hint of light in his usually rather morose expression. He loves to fight; she'll find out, there's a reason Nishitani is in love with him. It smooths back out as he accepts the trays of food into his hands. He thanks the vendor as they go. ]

[ She seems entertained by that question, the corner of her mouth quirking upward ever so slightly. Sure, she's met a couple Shuten boys. None quite like this one though. Rowdy things, yeah, but maybe a little softer. Nobody she'd brawl with. Not like she wants to brawl with him.

It's probably not healthy. But violence is what she knows. Violence is a language, and one she understands better than most. ]

Been there a few times. [ She keeps in step with Majima, half-absently glancing over to see what the food turned out like. ] Have to make my booze money somehow.

[ Majima is a little broken. They broke him on purpose. They were trying to train an attack dog but they fumbled the play. He's still too willful. Frenetic and spirited and bone-shatteringly loyal. There's chaos and intensity and pain bound up in Majima. The hannya on his back guides his life and she is always screaming. ]

Then I'll see ya there.

[ He smiles, uses his shoulder to push open the door to the host club. It's still early for them, they're not yet taking customers. Hosts are instead sweeping, wiping down tables, helping to prep garnishes for the bar, making onigiri, mending clothes, eating lunch, gossiping.

Keizobo recognizes Majima because of the ever distinctive eyepatch, ]

Ah, Goromi-chan you came through. Is this your daytime look? Yakuza chic?

[ An accurate description. A red button down shirt, jacket, family pin, slacks, and snakeskin shoes. A gold necklace glitters on his collarbone. Majima still gives him a withering look as he holds out the food, answers in his regular voice, ]

As requested.

[ There's a chuckle. ]

Fair enough, here's your autograph.

[ One glossy headshot for one mayo and nori shred hot dog. ]

[ Andy's breaking was done bit by bit, century by century. Like Chinese water torture — one drop at a time. And some part of her, deep down, is always screaming too. Screaming for release. For answers. But she never got either. Not for almost seven thousand years. So now she drinks and smokes, fucks and fights. And she pretends like those seven thousand years have detached her enough from her own humanity that she doesn't really give a damn anymore.

Maybe it's starting to become the truth. Maybe that's worse. Maybe at some point, she really will feel nothing — and then it'll all just be killing time. This — this outing, this impulsive diversion, whatever it is — at least it's all in good fun. And nobody's gotten hurt yet, which means she's doing better than usual.

While Majima — or is it Goromi-chan around here? — handles their transaction, Andy gives Keizobo the onceover. When the host departs, hot dog in hand, she finally comments in a deadpan: ]

The legs weren't that great.

[ He barks a short laugh, leading the way back out. ]

Guess ya ain't gonna be a repeat customer then.

[ He heads for a bench where he can consume his own lunch before they head back up to prostitute-chan. He is also aware that he probably has to actually introduce himself now. ]

Name's Majima, by th'way.

[ She forgets to eat properly, most of the time. It's something she's had to start fixing since she arrived here — this mortal flesh, rid of the old curse, doesn't regenerate anymore, and she can't subsist on cigarettes and alcohol alone — but old habits die hard. In that way, sitting and eating lunch like this is a novelty.

Flicking the stub of her cigarette to the ground as she sits, she grinds it out under her shoe before picking up her hot dog. She gives Majima a sidelong glance when he offers his name, letting a little pause settle in as if it isn't automatic for her to offer her own name back.

Finally: ]

People call me Andy. [ Casually then, moving on: ] Been in hell a while?

Couple months. Was in another yokai village before this.

[ And Hakagemachi was a significantly worse place to be. The yokai town had become unmoored from the rest of reality due to the corruption and subjugation of its local gods. It was a nightmare place, out of time and festering with cursed magic. ]

[ And here she'd spent the last seven thousand years thinking her pseudo-immortality was as supernatural as shit could get. Joke's on her. This guy's been in and out of demon villages like it's no big ass deal. Hell has been enlightening, if nothing else.

Wryly: ] You make it sound almost fucking mundane.

Can't do nothin' about it.

[ So he just takes a big bite and chews. ]

It was worse in Hakagemachi, mostly happy not bein' there anymore.

[ She hums out a little noise of acknowledgement around a mouthful of hot dog. He's not wrong. Honestly, she'd have suffered a lot less over the last several centuries if she were any good at just accepting when she can't do a damn thing. It's a shame she's both stupid and stubborn. Neither thing is especially helpful when you're strong enough to get away with it.

Maybe being here is apt punishment, in that way. Now she's more human than she's ever been. ]

Guess we take what we can get while we can get it. [ Absently, she thumbs away a little stray sauce from the corner of her mouth. ] Never know when everything is going to go straight back to shit again.

Any time, disruptin' another clan's stability is play number one for yakuza.

[ He's ready, he's waiting, and he's watching for how he can protect what's his through the inevitable chaos. ]

That's without even gettin' in t'all the shit yokai get upset about. Their egos are real sensitive.

[ She would do the same — if she still had anything left to call her own. But now, in this place, she doesn't even have the fucking curse anymore. It's left her untethered, clinging to vices and old bad habits instead. Today's been one of her better days. Less wallowing in her own despair and grief than usual.

It's surprisingly honest when she replies almost half to herself: ]

I miss that. Having people. A clan. [ Wryly: ] Something worth fighting some pissed off yokai over.

[ She's Enma now, technically — but she hasn't gone out of her way to make friends, and it isn't really the same thing, is it? ]

[ Oh god, lady. He swallows uncomfortably, making a valiant attempt to ignore the hornet's nest of emotion she just rattled like that. Fucking rude? ]

Ya'd make a good yakuza, huh.

[ He doesn't have enough food left to truly hide behind so cigarette it is. ]

[ She hadn't really meant to say it. Honestly, she was half-unaware that she actually had until he answers her. She'd been somewhere else, some place a couple thousand years ago, dwelling on those fragmented memories. That distant look in her eyes focuses back in, and she's present again at the sound of his voice. For a half-beat, she seems as uncomfortable as he does.

But he's got his cigarette, and she's got her habitual wryness, plus a little hot dog left besides. It's enough to get past that moment — or at least pretend to. ]

I don't have nearly enough tattoos. [ There it is, a bit of dryness to ease the conversation past anything too deep. ] And I can't even be assed to put a fucking bra on in the morning, let alone a whole gods-damned suit.

[ He's ignoring it, refusing to get caught up thinking about the clan and the family lost to him. ]

What's everybody got against wearing a suit?

[ Wondered to himself as he gets up to throw out his trash. ]

[ Denial is a good tactic. One of Andy's favorites. ]

Nothing against how it looks. [ She clarifies with a little shrug, coming to join him so she can dump her trash too. Brushing her hands off, she goes for another cigarette. Now that she's mortal, she should probably smoke less? But fuck it. She's already in hell, isn't she. ] Just too much work for a tired old bitch like me.

[ Reaching out, she takes the liberty of clapping Majima on the back, right between the shoulders, just once. Wryly: ]

Don't worry. It looks perfectly fine on you.

[ A snort of amusement, accepting the sardonic reassurance despite that not being quite it, ]

Tryin' to get th'Shutens t'dress right, an' they're bucking.

[ So apparently everyone is too old and tired to follow the yakuza dress code. He ambles back up the street towards their waiting kejourou. ]

Barely got 'em into suits for th'funeral.

[open] a real nightmare

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