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majimemegoro · 1 year

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Saejima and majima visit the mountain village WIP

Saejima knocked and then slid open the door.

Instantly the smell of Okudera’s cooking - still so familiar after so long - filled Saejima’s nostrils. His eyes adjusted to the darkness after a second, and he could make out the shape of Okudera, sitting crosslegged before the fire, needle and thread held in his teeth and a pelt on his lap. He looked up, and took the needle out of his mouth.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re here.”

Saejima could almost feel Majima vibrating with excitement at the odd, impolite greeting. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Saejima stepped inside.

“Okudera-han,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”

“Close the door,” was Okudera’s response. “You’re letting in the cold.”

Majima slipped inside behind Saejima and slid the door shut.

Taking his time, Okudera finished a stitch, tied off his thread and set aside the pelt. He looked almost identical to how Saejima remembered - there were no extra wrinkles visible on his face - save that his hair and beard were now more white than grey. He was even wearing the same clothes. Saejima stole a glance at Majima. While Majima was dressed more or less like a normal person, he didn’t look like a normal person. He was making The Smile.

Okudera looked him up and down from his seat by the fire. “You must be Majima,” he said, expression unreadable.

“That’s me!”

“The revenant,” Okudera said.

Majima bared his grin even wider.

“Majima,” Saejima said, “Tell Okudera-han it’s a pleasure to meet him.”

“Well, yeah,” Majima said, his face relaxing a bit. “Thanks for lettin’ us stay with you and all.”

“Hmph.” Okudera turned away.

Saejima smiled. A successful introduction. They seemed to like each other. Letting out a sound of pleasure, Saejima swung his arms and then stretched them. “The ride here was brutal, Okudera-han, you got no idea how good it felt to step outta that car and into the mountain air. I’m glad to be here.”

“Well, take off your boots and come sit down, then,” Okudera said, turning his attention back to the pot over the fire.

They obliged. Settling down on the threadbare old cushion felt like coming home. Saejima had missed the smell of this place; the smoke, the fur, the old wood. Okudera’s cooking, of course.

Majima sat in Saejima’s old spot, across from Okudera, so Saejima went around to the side of the fire farthest from the door and settled down while Majima wrangled his limbs into a rough semblance of a normal seated position.

“This house is the old-school shit,” Majima said, staring up at some fish drying in the rafters. “I feel like I’m in a samurai flick.”

Saejima grunted in acknowledgement. Okudera looked up briefly, his brow furrowing a little in a way that looked more sad than cranky, at least to Saejima who knew his expressions well.

“You like samurai movies?” Okudera asked.

“Hell yeah,” Majima said with enthusiasm. “Hackin’, slashin’, honour and drama. What’s not to love?”

Okudera just shrugged.

“Oh, hey, Okudera-han-“ Saejima said. “Before I forget, we got somethin’ for you.” He pulled the carefully wrapped box out of its bag and slid it towards Okudera, inclining his head respectfully.

Okudera looked at the gift. “It’s very kind of you-“

“Ha!” Majima said. “I told you, bro-“

“-But I can’t accept this.”

Majima’s look of triumph morphed into something shocked and then something nasty as he turned on Okudera, leaning forward aggressively. “Haw? And why not?”

“You bought this?” Okudera questioned, addressing Saejima.

“Oh, yeah,” Saejima said. Maybe Okudera thought they had stolen it. “We paid properly, don’t worry.”

Okudera nodded, and pushed the box away. “I don’t want gifts purchased with your blood money,” he said.

Saejima and Majima stared down at the box. “...Blood money?” Saejima echoed at last.

“You’re yakuza,” Okudera said calmly. “You profit off human suffering. That isn’t able to override my affection for you, but I do draw the line at consuming the fruits of that suffering. So you can keep your gift. The thought is enough for me.”

Hurriedly Saejima cast a glance at Majima, who was still frozen, leaning forward with his hands braced on his crossed knees, expression looking like he was either about to laugh or tear out his tanto.

“We understand,” Saejima said hurriedly, taking the box back. “You’re right, Okudera-han. Sorry for puttin’ you in that position, that was rude of us.”

Majima subsided with palpable reluctance, looking upon Okudera with a new and calculating respect.

Indifferent, Okudera shrugged. “I don’t know if it was rude,” he said. Then, as an afterthought, “You could give your gift to Sakurai, if you wanted. Or someone else. Or just keep it for yourselves.”

“Yeah, maybe we should divvy them up,” Saejima said. “Nishina Kimiyo-han and Sakurai for sure.”

Majima muttered something under his breath about ‘dumb mountain yokels.’ Saejima elbowed him hard, and Majima shot him a kicked dog look. Saejima ignored him.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Saejima asked. “Did I mention how Majima loves venison?”

“I can’t recall,” Okudera said coldly. He leaned over the fire to stir the pot. Then, “He’s lucky. I happened to shoot a deer the other day.”

Saejima grinned and clapped Okudera on the back, earning nothing in response but a sidelong look.

“Well, aside from this cranky-ass host, I’d say our vacation’s off to a great start, bro!” Majima announced happily, drawing closer to the fire’s warmth and spreading his hands out before it.

“Be polite,” Saejima warned, and Majima grinned at him, the orange firelight glinting in his eye like it was lit from within.

Okudera took a piece of meat out of the pot and tested it. “Saejima,” he said without looking up, “Bring us some bowls.”

Saejima rose - the familiar floor creaking under him, a sound he hadn’t remember to miss, until now - to fetch three bowls and sets of chopsticks from their shelf. He placed them down in a row by the hearth, and Okudera began to dole out the stew. Its mouthwatering scent filled the air and Saejima eagerly watched Okudera serve.

Majima lunged for the bowl, but Saejima stuck out a hand.

“What?” Majima whined. “I’m starvin’ here!”

“Bro, you gotta think about the animal that gave its life. Have some proper appreciation for the bounty of the mountain.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine, I’ll do a real long prayer- hey!” Majima broke off indignantly. Okudera was already eating.

“Saejima is right,” Okudera said, taking another piece of meat in his chopsticks. “But if you’re hungry, you can be grateful while you eat.”

Saejima couldn’t argue with that. He and Majima descended on their bowls with gusto.

They ate in silence. It reminded Saejima fondly of the first desperate meal he’d eaten in this house - how Okudera’s generosity had come so unexpectedly and in such lovely force. It was great that Majima and Okudera got to meet each other, that Majima would get to experience the one and only Okudera. And with luck, Okudera would appreciate the inevitable strangeness that attended Majima wherever he went. This would be nice.

After polishing off second helpings, Saejima and Majima finally sat back.

Majima let out a satisfied sound, rubbing his stomach. “Damn, that was good,” he said, leaning back on his hands. “Thanks, Okudera-han. I gotta say, I was a bit worried about my figure comin’ here, I heard my bro got fat as hell stuffin’ his face with game every day. And I totally get it now after eatin’ this awesome shit. But you seem skinny enough.”

“Oh, please, Majima,” Saejima said in annoyance. “As if you won’t be droolin’ over me the second I start bulkin’ up again. ‘Fat.’ Fuck you.”

Majima cackled. Okudera watched them with one eyebrow slightly raised.

Saejima felt a flush rise on his cheeks. “Uh, sorry, Okudera-han.”

Okudera shrugged and turned his attention to the last piece of venison in his bowl.

Majima caught Saejima’s eye and wiggled his eyebrows up and down while pointedly looking at Okudera and back to Saejima in some frenetic attempt at silent communication. Saejima looked away, shaking his head.

“How have things been here, Okudera-han? The village holdin’ up okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Okudera said.

“No sign of Yama-oroshi, I hope?”

In response Okudera waved a hand.

“Good,” Saejima said. “Good. This village don’t need man-eatin’ bears, that’s all I can say.”

Okudera just hummed.

“Hey,” Majima interrupted, leaning forward, “Okudera-han, on the subject of this legendary ‘Yama-oroshi’, how big would you say the thing is?” He shot a sly look at Saejima, who crossed his arms.

“I’d guess at least three and a half meters, maybe 400 kilograms in the spring,” Okudera said. “Why?”

Majima frowned. “No shit?”

“Majima didn’t believe me,” Saejima explained.

“Hm,” Okudera interjected. “All kinds of strange things can happen on the mountain. Us villagers aren’t known for telling tall tales.”

“Hold up,” Majima interjected. “So there really is a giant-ass bear? A demon-bear?”

“Yes.”

“I told you, bro,” Saejima said.

Looking thoughtful, Majima leaned back on his hands. Then he leaned forward again. “I wanna fight a giant bear,” he said.

Okudera fixed him with a truly withering look. “The point of the hunt is survival, not entertainment.”

“I wanna fight a giant bear!”

“Well, then, I hope you get your wish,” Okudera said airily. “I look forward to collecting bits of your remains for the next ten years.”

“Ha! As if! I’m gonna slice that bear straight in half!”

“Could you calm down, bro?” Saejima said. He could practically see waves of passionate heat coming off Majima. “This ain’t the time to get all riled up.”

In response Majima stuck out his tongue, but he still settled down, so Saejima counted that as a win. Okudera collected the dirty bowls and piled them up beside the heath.

“Hey, is that a bow and shit on the wall there?” Majima asked suddenly.

Saejima squinted into the dimness. In the corner by the door to the back room, under the small wall-mounted shelf, there hung a bow and a quiver of arrows. There was also what looked like a crude spear, with a nagasa for the blade, leaning against the corner.

“Yes, it’s a bow,” Okudera said.

“Cool, cool,” Majima replied. “Like Legolas. Where’d you get it? eBay? And is it just there to look cool?”

“It’s not from eBay,” Okudera said crossly. “I made it. And it’s for hunting, obviously.”

As one, Majima and Saejima sat up straighter. “No shit?” Majima said. “You can hunt with that?”

“Of course I can.” Okudera sounded very annoyed now, but something about the downward tilt of his head suggested he was bashful rather than genuinely annoyed. “It’s certainly more difficult than using a rifle, but I wouldn’t keep something around here just for decoration,” he scoffed.

“Fuck,” Majima said. “Huh. That’s so damn epic. Shit.”

“That’s really darn impressive, Okudera-han,” Saejima concurred. “I gotta ask, though, why the hell would you go huntin’ with a bow and arrow when you got a gun?”

“Why would you fight your equals when you could beat up teenagers?” Okudera shot back.

Saejima scratched his chin. “Huh. Fair enough, Okudera-han. You’re sayin’ you like the challenge?”

“Something like that,” Okudera said expressionlessly. [not written yet] “How long will you stay?” Okudera asked.

Majima and Saejima exchanged glances. “We’re on vacation for a month,” Saejima said, “But I doubt we’ll be botherin’ you that long. I was thinkin’-“

“Hmph,” Okudera said. “Well, you can stay as long or as briefly as you want. But I’ll keep you busy helping out if you stick around. There’s lots of work to do.”

From Okudera, that was as clear as a written invitation to stay longer. Saejima smiled, a bit mistily. “Sounds good to me,” he said. “Got any wood to chop?”

Okudera scoffed. “There’s always wood to chop.”

[not written yet]

“Saejima,” Okudera said, “Fetch us cups and something to drink.” Saejima obeyed. “What are we in the mood for?” he asked, rifling through the bottles.

“Tch,” Okudera said, sounding much more annoyed at the question than was reasonable. “Anything! Whatever you prefer.”

[not written yet]

“Hell yeah,” Majima said.

Saejima shot him a little look. “Bro, we ain’t gonna drink too much right now. The true revel comes after the hunt. Right, Okudera-han?”

Inexplicably Okudera looked surly. “There’s no rule saying you can only get drunk after a hunt,” he said. “It’s just better to moderate oneself by adhering to that pattern.”

“Well, there you have it,” Saejima said, filling his own cup. “We’ll just have a few drinks, maybe five or six-“

Majima let out an amused snort. “Bro, since when is five or six drinks ‘just a few’ for an old guy? You’re gonna make your mentor piss himself on the first night?”

“Okudera-han can hold his liquor,” Saejima said, unconcerned as he poured out the other two cups. “You worry about yourself, bro.”

“Ha! Like I’d ever be out-drunk by an old fart like-“

Saejima’s head snapped up. “Bro!” he said sharply.

“Uhh… I was takin’ about you, Saejima,” Majima corrected. “Okudera-han may be old in years, but he’s clearly a spring chicken compared to you. Spiritually speakin’.”

“Your friend is a weird one, Saejima,” Okudera said. “I’m a bit surprised you two get along.”

“We don’t,” Saejima grumbled. Majima laughed and clapped his hands in delight.

[not written yet] [spoilers]

Saejima’s heart rate rose, a combination of frustration and anxiety. “Okudera-han!” he said.

Okudera, facing away, paused. “Saejima, don’t shout at me,” he said coldly. Then, “Last year.”

“Last year!? Holy shit, what happened?”

“That,” Okudera snapped, “Is none of your damn business!”

For a minute they stared at each other in silence. Then, “I’m gonna grab a smoke,” Majima said, jumping up and shoving his arms into his coat.

Saejima moved to rise and join him, but Majima shook his head, one sharp movement of denial, and then a chin jutted at Okudera. Then Majima was pulling out a pack of cigarettes and slipping through the door onto the porch. He closed it behind him.

And Saejima and Okudera were left alone.

The crackle of the dying fire was the only sound.

“Hey, Okudera-han?”

“What.” Okudera’s perpetually hoarse voice was harsher than usual.

“I don’t know. Nothin’. I’m real glad [spoiler]. And I’m glad to be here. Thanks for havin’ us.”

At that Okudera scoffed again, but his expression seemed somewhat mellowed.

“Have you really been doin’ okay, up here?” Saejima asked. “I don’t mean [spoiler]. You don’t gotta talk about that if you don’t wanna. Just... in general.”

“What do you want me to say to that?” Okudera said tiredly. “Things are mostly the same as ever. Mostly.” He paused. “You’re happy,” he said. “It’s nice to see.”

“Huh?”

“The last time I saw you, you were grieving for him. And... you didn’t seem too certain of what to think of it. But now you seem certain.”

“Certain? Of what?”

“That being together is the right thing. I’m glad for you.”

Saejima let the words sink in. A lot had changed since the last time he was on the mountain. Okudera was right. But Saejima couldn’t help thinking that perhaps this was a case where Okudera’s bluntness concealed something more subtle. “Is this about-“

“It isn’t ‘about’ anything,” Okudera snapped, all the unexpected tenderness gone as quickly as it had come.

“Okay, fine,” Saejima said. “I imagine I’d find it pretty hard to be faced with you and your old huntin’ partner livin’ it up together if my own favorite guy were actually dead, but we don’t gotta talk about it-“

“Damn straight we don’t have to talk about it,” Okudera said through tight lips. “Nonsense speculation is a waste of everyone’s time.”

“Fine,” Saejima said again, fighting down what felt like a rise in blood pressure. Okudera was more ornery and insufferable than he remembered. Not by much, though. “I was just tryin’ to let you know that I understand it might be hard, havin’ us here.”

“Saejima, you asked me how I was. I told you I’m fine. Why are we having this conversation?”

“Well...” Scratching his chin, Saejima took a moment to be sure he would express his thoughts as clearly and precisely as possible. “Because I care about you, I guess. I know you’re a tough old guy and you push yourself too damn hard, so I wanna double check that when you say you’re fine, you don’t secretly mean, ‘I’m bleedin’ out from an old wound and also about to head up into the mountains alone to-‘“

“I get it,” Okudera said loudly.

“Do you?”

For a long minute Okudera was silent, though Saejima could see in the bulb’s dim light that his jaw was working as though trying to prevent words from coming out.

“Saejima,” he said at last, “I don’t want to lie to you.”

Saejima let out a slow sigh. “Okay, Okudera-han. When you’re ready to tell the truth, then, let me know.”

“I wasn’t saying I was lying,” Okudera said.

“Okay.”

“I’m not going to have a therapy session with you, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Okay, Okudera-han. I ain’t pressurin’ you in any direction. I just wanted to say how I felt about the situation.”

“Well, you’ve done so.”

“Yeah. I’ll say it again, though: I ain’t dumb, and I know you too well not to notice that somethin’s amiss. When you’re ready to talk…”

Okudera cut the hopeful silence with a hollow laugh. He bent to readjust the bedroll one last time, and said nothing.

Saejima threw up his hands. “Open invitation. And hey, I know sometimes silence is the best way. But even in silence, I’m listenin’ to you. Okay?”

Straightening up, Okudera shook his head a little, but it seemed more like annoyance at the situation than an outright denial, so Saejima let it stand.

“Anyway, I’m damn glad to be here. I missed you. Didn’t realize how much until I saw you again. So… yeah. Thanks.”

Okudera shook his head again.

“You’re the most stubborn guy I know, Okudera-han, and that’s sayin’ a lot. I’m glad we got the opportunity to spend a little time together now.”

Okudera swallowed.

Saejima put a hand on his shoulder, and Okudera looked down at it like he didn’t know what it was doing there.

“Okay,” Saejima said, taking his hand back. “Glad we had this talk.” Mentally Saejima remarked on Majima’s long - and unusually tactful - smoking break. “I’m gonna join my bro outside,” Saejima said. “Smoke for a bit.” He turned for the door.

But he thought he detected a minute shift in Okudera, and realized - “Oh,” Saejima said. “You want a cigarette, Okudera-han?”

“I don’t want to intrude.” The dismissive voice that could only be hiding sulking.

“Please join me? Majima’s gonna be done already, and I hate to smoke alone.”

“Fine,” Okudera said, and followed him outside.

Saejima had nearly forgotten the smell and flavour of the nighttime air on the mountain. It was cold and clear and almost delicious, in the way that plain ice could be almost delicious. The cold nipped at Saejima’s nose and cheeks like a playful puppy.

Majima had his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets and a cigarette - barely more than a butt - dangling from his lips. As Saejima watched he pulled a hand out of his pocket and took a long drag, making the tip of the cigarette glow brighter for a brief moment. There were a few stray snowflakes in his hair.

“Light up me and Okudera-han, bro?”

Wordlessly, without taking his eye off the sky, Majima extracted a battered pack of cigarettes and shook it at them. They each took one. Still without looking, Majima flicked his lighter on, and Saejima touched his cigarette to the flame. He plucked the lighter from Majima’s hand and offered Okudera a light. With a hum of thanks, Okudera lit his own cigarette and then stood back.

“Ain’t you gettin’ cold, bro?” Saejima asked. “Been out here a little while already.”

“Hell, no,” Majima said. “I’m wearin’ a shirt and a coat! I could climb Mount Everest and not even get a shiver.”

“Saejima, does your friend not usually wear a coat?” Okudera asked.

Saejima exhaled slowly and watched the puff of smoke dissipate into the winter air while he tried to decide how to respond to that. “He, uh, he does usually wear a jacket. It’s the shirt that’s new.”

“What?” Okudera sounded like he suspected he was being pranked.

“He, uh, he usually wears a snakeskin jacket... with nothin’ underneath. Right, Majima?”

“Yup,” Majima said, flicking his cigarette butt over the edge of the porch.

Okudera shifted. “If you smoke regularly, you can’t dispose of the butts out here,” he ordered.

A beat of silence in which Saejima tensed up, preparing to put himself in between Okudera and a bout of mad dog fury that would probably end with some kind of absurd snow-based heat action that would see this vacation ruined before it had begun.

But then, “Sure thing,” Majima said.

After a few seconds of disbelief, Saejima let his shoulders relax. It seemed he wouldn’t have to fight his kyodai tonight, after all.

“…I don’t understand the joke about the snakeskin,” Okudera said shortly.

“It, uh, it wasn’t a joke, Okudera-han,” Saejima said. “He really does wear that. He’s known for it. Bet you could find a photo in some old newspaper if you really tried.”

“Hm.” The sound Okudera made was skeptical and worried at the same time.

“At least I don’t go out dressed like an anachronism,” Majima said out of the side of his mouth, uncharacteristically calm rather than surly. “My bro said you’ve got some kinda historical Matagi getup, Okudera-han.”

Okudera didn’t say anything to that for a long time. He inhaled audibly on his cigarette. Then, “You’re really rude,” he said mildly.

Majima let out a little huff of surprised laughter. “Well, I am a goddamn crime boss.”

“Indeed.”

For a few minutes they smoked, in silence save for the occasional shuffle of feet as they tried to stay warm. Randomly Saejima glanced over at Okudera. Okudera was looking closely at Majima, whose head was still tilted up and gaze fixed on the sky.

“Have you spent much time outside the city?” Okudera asked, lowering the cigarette from his lips, its orange glow smouldering in the darkness.

“Me?” Majima said.

“Yeah.”

“Nope.”

Okudera nodded. “I hope we’ll have at least one clear night while you’re here. Wait until you see the stars.”

At that Majima was silent for a beat. Then, “The stars?” he echoed, subdued. “I seen them before.”

Saejima heard Okudera’s jacket rustle as he shook his head. “No,” Okudera said. “You haven’t really seen them if you’ve only been in the city. You’ll understand later.”

Majima stirred as though to retort, and Saejima couldn’t help intervening on the side of truth. “He’s right, bro,” Saejima said, pulling his cigarette out of his mouth to talk and tapping off ash. “Imagine, like, the stars ain’t points of light, but, like, grains of sand on a beach. I - I can’t describe it because I ain’t a poet, but, it’s like glitter poured out over black paper. Not just discrete lights. It’s… it’ll blow your mind, for real.”

“One thousand sparkles,” Okudera said, “Strewn across the winter sky. Spied, they multiply.”

“…Well,” Majima said softly, “That sounds pretty cool. I’ll look forward to gettin’ a good look for myself.”

“In good time,” Okudera said, and tossed his cigarette butt off the porch, and went back inside.

Gaping with indignation, Majima watched him go. “Is he yankin’ my chain?” Majima asked once Okudera was out of earshot. “Throwin’ trash out there two seconds after tellin’ me off for doin’ the same?”

“Okudera-han don’t smoke very often,” Saejima rejoined. “His litter won’t make a veritable dumpsite like yours would, bro.” With that Saejima flicked his cigarette onto the snow and followed Okudera inside.

Majima followed, too, fake-fuming, a moment later.

#saejima taiga #majima goro #okudera #WIP #ye #comrade morning-11 was askin me about this #if anyone reads please let me know what you think #theres a lot more of this written too but its all over the place #memecomradeoriginal

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