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The Christmas tree is too big, Haruka thought as she tried once more to place her ornament on the empty branch, standing up on her tippy toes. Offhanded she wondered whether Santa would grant her wish of growing an extra three feet a bit earlier this year. It was only Christmas Eve, so maybe he’d make an exception?
It was quiet in the Kiryu household, but Haruka could barely contain her excitement. After working at Majima Construction Ojisan had run into a good bit of financial fortune, and it was easy to guess that Uncle Majima had something to do with it – he wouldn’t let him leave the work site until he’d accepted the “little” extra each time he went.
Lately, though, it was clear something was amiss, even with the last day bonus Ojisan had brought home. That bonus was big, and Haruka thought it would be enough to allay his worries, but the smile he gave ever since didn’t reach his eyes, didn’t feel warm. It didn’t help that they were so far away from Kamurocho, and when there was no work to keep Ojisan busy that distant look came back, haunting and hopeless.
Haruka hated it. She hated it so much. Ojisan was a good person who deserved good things. That’s why she and Uncle Majima were throwing this Christmas party for him!
She squeaked out a happy sound, quietly so Ojisan wouldn’t hear. It was all a surprise, so she didn’t want to seem too eager to dress up the tree or put the stockings up in case he caught on. So far he hadn’t, but...
“Whoa!”
She squeaked again, gasping when she magically started growing, watching the elusive branch that was so high up start to become eye-level. Her wish came true! Santa really does work quick…!
However, a familiar deep laugh put a stop to that tall ambition. “You could’ve just asked me to help you out, Haruka.”
Haruka put the ornament on, playful pout meeting Kiryu’s soft smile. “But I wanted to decorate the tree by myself! It’s lots of fun.”
“Ah, so you get to do all the fun things while I’m on clean up duty, huh?”
Oops. Caught red-handed. He laughed again, not offended at all, then set her down. “You did a wonderful job, Haruka. C’mon, let’s go light the candles.”
Their living room was tiny, but tonight it was packed with a festive liveliness that wasn’t usually present. The long table Haruka had set beforehand took up much of the room. Ojisan leaned forward to light the three candles spanning its length. Haruka’s idea, of course. She’d seen it in a movie once and the image wouldn’t leave her mind in peace until she saw it for herself.
And wow, was it a pretty sight. Haruka internally prayed that he wouldn’t notice how she set the table for ten people instead of two – but perhaps she should’ve wished for something else because once again that incredible sadness washed over Ojisan. His expression remained unchanged, but she could see all too well his inner feelings: as unsteady as the shadow splayed on the wall behind him, flickering in the feeble flame.
He was lonely, Haruka knew as she walked forward, her hands closing the distance to him to clutch the lighter. She knew because she had gone through the same thing not too long ago.
Their hands brushed and Ojisan looked up, an inexplicable pain in his eyes before he covered it up. She fumbled with the lighter, trying to flick it on.
“Here,” he said, placing his large hands over her smaller ones, guiding her fingers to strike at the right angle. They lit the last candle together, and when she met his gaze again Haruka was glad to see that loneliness begin to fade, a hint of gratitude chasing it away. But it wasn’t enough. Her efforts alone weren’t good enough.
Ding-dong!
Good thing she wasn’t alone.
“They’re here!” She ran to the door at full speed, smile beaming wide over Ojisan’s “w-what, who is–?”
The resounding “KIIIIIIIRYU-CHAN!” solved that mystery rather quickly.
Haruka giggled at her Ojisan’s dumbfounded expression. “Merry Christmas, Kiryu-chan~,” sang Uncle Majima, sauntering into the living room with a clear jingling sound. Was he wearing a Santa hat? “Woah, did you clean up an’ decorate all by yourself, Haruka-chan?" His eye widened in amazement. "This place don’t look like half the dump your Ojisan was tellin’ me at all!”
“Hehe, yes I did.”
“Hey, now,” finally that stirred some life into Ojisan, who stood up from his stiffened position. “It was a team effort.” He looked dazed, as if the Majima in front of him was a figment of his imagination.
Said figment strode right up and kissed him on the lips. Haruka had to strain to hear the “missed you, Kazuma” whispered in between pulling him close, gloved hands cradling his hips, forehead rested in the crook of his neck. They stood like that for a while, and she was relieved to see Ojisan responding with a faintly trembling hug, which grew firm when he drew him in close.
Haruka didn’t know what the strangled noise both Ojisan and Uncle Majima made meant when she joined in, wrapping her tiny arms around each of their legs, but she knew it was a good thing when she felt two hands return the hug, pulling her in as well. “I missed you, too, Goro. So much. We missed you.”
Then the doorbell rang again. Ojisan stepped back, confused. “What is it now?” He went to open the door.
“Oi, Kiryu! Took you long enough, you slowpoke. C’mon, let us inside already, it’s co-o-old.”
“Hello, Kiryu-san. And yes, it is, to put it mildly, quite freezing outside.”
Ojisan did not let them in. In fact he was not moving at all.
“Uncle Nishikiyama! You made it!” She knew it was him despite the change in clothes and style. He popped his head around, smile a bit lopsided. Scars always stayed the same, after all.
“Um…” The other person, however, she didn’t know. Uncle Nishiki filled her in.
“This is Tachibana-san.” He bowed in greeting from his wheelchair. “Kiryu used to work in real estate under him long ago.”
“Real estate?”
“Yeah. Can you believe it? This guy,” he clapped a hand over Ojisan’s shoulder, “pushing pencils and writing up reports! Real boring stuff.”
“Wasn’t that boring,” Ojisan weakly shot back, finally stepping back to let them inside. He still looked like he was three steps behind everyone else. “...what is this?”
Uncle Nishiki placed something in Ojisan’s hands. “Karaage. We picked some up on the way here. Because we all know if we leave you alone you’ll just make cup noodles for the rest of your life.”
“Kiryu-chan, whozat?” Uncle Majima joined them at the entrance. “Oh, it’s Nishikiyama. Late, as usual.”
“Excuse you, I am fashionably on-time,” he smugly corrected, twirling his keys. Haruka could tell he was miffed about his comment. “We had... important business to settle. Yeah.”
“Was it pickin’ which one of your eye-sore suits ta wear?”
“No! And they’re not eye-sores!”
“I only got one eye, bud, but even I know when somethin’s an eye-sore. Here, put a Santa hat on, it might save your fashion disaster.”
“Go look in a mirror. And fuck you.”
“Kiryu-san, my apologies. It is my fault we are late.”
Tachibana’s voice rose up amongst all the bickering. He wheeled forward, serene and dignified. “When I received word of your Christmas party, I could not hold in my enthusiasm. I’ve attended parties before, but none as small and intimate such as this, and I was determined to share something of mine from the heart.”
Based on Ojisan’s silence it was clear he didn’t get what he meant. Tachibana’s composure faltered a little. “You know that I am one for careful planning. However, this... venture of mine took much more effort than I expected.”
“What do you mean?”
It was then he noticed the covered bowl in Tachibana’s lap. “Long story short, I messed up potato salad and Nishikiyama-san had to help me start all over.”
Tachibana wasn’t one to be full-on embarrassed, but the way he wouldn’t meet their eyes meant it was a very close thing. Haruka was a little less intimidated by the newcomer this way. She decided he should be embarrassed more often.
“Thank you, Tachibana-san,” Ojisan bowed deeply, taking the box from him. “It doesn’t look bad at all. It can’t be worse than your driving.”
Haruka had never seen a businessman blush so hard. Was Ojisan being naughty? Teehee.
Karaage already in hand Haruka also accepted the potato salad, putting it on the dining table. As she was unpacking the food she found Uncle Majima and Tachibana off to the side, deep in discussion. It looked serious.
“...so she’s doin’ okay?”
“Yes. Pushing herself too hard at work maybe, but otherwise in good health.”
He huffed. “Never givin’ yourself time to catch a break, huh, Makoto?”
“Majima-san.” Tachibana turned warm gray eyes upwards. “I know the predicament you’re going through. I myself considered hiding my true status from her like you have, but it only ended up hurting the both of us. I know the two of you will benefit from reconnecting.”
Uncle Majima was thinking hard. The full spectrum of emotions flitted across his face, from happy to sad to filled with fragile hope and everything in between.
“Think about it,” Tachibana said, slipping a card into his hand, “and I will help you cross that threshold should you come to that decision. Please. I don’t want you making the same mistake I did.”
There was a hidden desperation whispered under those haunting words. This Tachibana person may be a little robotic, but Haruka knew when someone was being earnest when she saw it. She was a good judge of character.
“Tachibana, Majima. You guys ready to eat already?”
Ojisan walked in, cutting the tension clean with a guileless smile. He had a scarf around his neck. Clearly a gift, since it was a colorful pattern and not outdated like his usual wardrobe. Uncle Nishiki whooped.
“Hell yeah! Food time!”
The tiny living room burst into activity, lively chatter a welcoming noise after months of solitude. Haruka weaved her way through a forest of long legs, eventually ending up next to Tachibana.
“Nishikiyama-san, can you help me get down?" He was halfway out his wheelchair.
Uncle Nishiki rushed to his side. Haruka didn't see why he needed any help. His arms weren't shaky yet he still leaned into Uncle Nishiki's hold, not letting go until he was comfortably situated on the floor cushion. It reminded her of how Uncle Majima would pretend to wail in pain over a little cut on his finger to get Ojisan's attention.
"Tachibana," Ojisan's voice brought her back from investigating further, "how long until you get your replacements in?”
Tachibana shook his head. “It’s going to take a while. The prosthetic feet are ready, but I need to wait for my body to catch up during the physical therapy process. The damage was… too severe to warrant a hasty fitting.”
Ojisan’s face grew dark. “Do not worry for me, Kiryu-san. I’m actually quite happy about these turn of events, however twisted it sounds. It’s given me a chance to slow down, and partake in other activities I had previously not given much thought to.”
His words were vague, but Haruka knew how to put two-and-two together. Uncle Nishiki was looking strangely bashful.
“You and Uncle Nishiki are dating!” She was right on the mark when he began choking on air.
Tachibana was shocked – which is to say he fluttered his lashes for a few seconds, mouth downturned in a slight pout. Down the table Uncle Majima shrieked with laughter. Ojisan was now five steps behind the conversation.
“What,” he said flatly.
While Haruka exclaimed over him, throwing her arms up in joy, “That’s wonderful!”
While Uncle Nishiki sputtered, “H-how, wait, stop–”
“Potato salad, anyone?”
All eyes turned to Tachibana. He was holding out the bowl, placid smile back in place, giving nothing away. “No? Then I will take some.”
He seemed to be formulating a response as he poured out some salad, slowly and deliberately. “As I said. This impairment of mine has been a boon in disguise. Few things have given me reason to look forward to the next day. I am not accustomed to an inactive lifestyle, to say nothing of how sedentary I’ve become as of late.”
He motioned to his wheelchair, and Haruka saw a hint of frustration tighten his expression. The whole room seemed to hold its breath. “It has been a taxing journey. But… Nishikiyama-san helped me see through it.”
And the affection that was in those warm gray eyes could not be ignored, as Tachibana slipped a hand over Uncle Nishiki’s, gripping it tight.
“Nishiki…” Ojisan said softly. “When did this happen?”
“I was gonna tell you, I swear! Tachibana and I, we… we had similar stuff going on with us, you know,” he rubbed a nervous palm over his scars, “I was missing my car – you know the one, Kiryu – and he wanted driving lessons, and I couldn’t resist. Cars, bro! He’s got a sweet ride, man.”
There was more to it than that – way more than that, even Ojisan could tell: two traumatized people bonding over a longing for simplicity. The way his eyes glittered with happiness told Haruka her Ojisan hadn’t seen his kyoudai so happy in years.
"Rest assured, Kiryu-san,” he said with a smirk, “I've gotten much better at kissing since last time. All thanks to Nishikiyama's help, of course."
Something crashed. “What the hell’s that supposed ta mean, Mr. Turtleneck Real Estate man??”
"It was a thank-you kiss," Kiryu simply said, as if that would produce more answers than questions.
“You kissed Mr. Tachibana?” Haruka gasped.
“Was his first kiss, too, Haruka-chan,” Uncle Nishiki supplied, laughing. “He wouldn’t stop yammering about it!”
In a last bid for answers Uncle Majima turned to Tachibana for clarification, who was taking a bite of the potato salad. “This is the worst salad I’ve ever had,” was all he chose to comment on.
Thankfully – or not – the doorbell rang again.
“ Ore wa Ryuji ! Party’s finally startin’ now that the gang’s all here!”
The unnecessary announcement could only be followed by the equally amplified presence of Ryuji, flashing his shark-tooth grin at the door, a blast of cold wind buffeting his leather jacket.
“Hey, Kazuma,” Kaoru’s slender form nudged its way to the front. “Sorry we’re late.”
“Kaoru, Ryuji…” At this point Ojisan just took it all in stride, not even bothering to question how or why they were here.
“We had to go pick-up KFC last-minute,” explained Kaoru. “The crowds were too thick and we were gettin’ late, so one thing led to another and we had to beat up twenty people.”
“Right.” Ojisan blinked. “Makes sense.”
“Can we please get inside,” a third voice whined from the back, and a flash of a signature puffy white jacket squeezed itself between the two siblings, seeking the warm indoors.
“Oh yeah, an’ we picked up Daigo.” Ryuji threw an arm around Daigo, effortlessly pulling him in to his side, laughing heartily. “You park the motorcycle alright?”
“Yeah, I did. Here.” Daigo handed him a set of keys. He was still in that phase of his life where he pretended everything annoyed him, but the way he clung to Ryuji’s side told everyone he saved the real irritation for actual situations.
Haruka had missed him. “Daigo!” She had a lot of people to look up to, but Daigo had quickly become like a big brother to her. “Come here!” She patted the seat next to her and he came willingly.
“Hey, squirt,” he rubbed knuckles over her hair affectionately, “miss me?”
Giggling, she nodded, returning the hug. His jacket made a squeaky sound.
“Nice, uh, jingle hat you got there, Haruka-chan.”
An awkward throat-clearing made them look up. Ryuji stood, looking uneasy. “Can I, um…”
He trailed off. “Thank you, Mr. Ryuji. Do you want one?” She took off her own. “You can have mine if you really like it.”
“Unh? Naw. No, no, little girlie, that’s not what I… yer too nice, ain’tcha?” Sighing, Ryuji started again. “If it’s alright with you, can I sit next to ya? I gotta say somethin’ important.”
She nodded her permission, albeit a little confused. Turning to Daigo wasn’t helpful; he had on a neutral expression as he watched him sit down.
“I wanna apologize for kidnappin’ ya, Haruka-chan.” Ryuji got straight to the point - even if he was extremely uncomfortable, a six-foot tall behemoth shrinking in front of a child. “Technically I didn’t got much to do with it in the first place, but I knew t’was wrong an’ I still let it slide even though I coulda stopped it. That punk-ass sissy Sengoku…”
He snarled out the insult, forgetting whose company he was in. Haruka scooched closer. “Mr. Ryuji,” she said. He clenched his fist, lips set tight.
“Mr. Ryuji,” she said, firmer this time, waiting until he focused on her determined face. “It’s okay. I know it wasn’t your fault.”
“...huh?”
“Ojisan told me. You might’ve fought each other, but you weren’t his real enemy. Just like how Uncle Majima wasn’t a bad guy, even though he also kidnapped me and fought Ojisan all the time. Trust me, I would know.”
“Majima did what,” said Ryuji, baffled, after a moment of processing all that information. Majima, upon hearing his name waved enthusiastically, mouth stuffed with food.
I guess yer right...” Ryuji didn’t seem too convinced, but didn’t push it. “Still, can’t believe this is the second time I’m apologizing for kidnappin’ someone…”
“Mr. Ryuji! If you want to be friends with someone, you don’t have to kidnap them. You can just ask.”
Daigo choked on his soda.
“Yeah, nii-san,” yelled Kaoru. “Listen to Haruka-chan, stop kidnapping people.”
“Then,” Ryuji chose to ignore the snarky comment, “can we… be friends?”
That was an easy answer for Haruka. She nodded cheerfully. “As long as I can be your friend, too!”
“Kiryu?” A familiar voice yelled from the foyer. “Are you alright?”
It was Date-san who rounded the corner into the living room, gun in hand. His brows unfurrowed when he saw the domestic scene before him.
“Date-san,” Ojisan stood, concerned. “Is something wrong?”
After a long moment Date put the gun away, a little sheepish. “Oh. No, nothing’s wrong. The door was unlocked so I assumed the worst. You know, breaking-and-entering kind of bad.” Saaya rolled her eyes from behind her dad. “Anyway, we brought beef stew!”
At ten people the apartment was packed and it was more than difficult when it came to getting around the place – but Haruka didn’t want it any other way, delighted at how inviting and bustling their little room had gotten. Haruka beamed at Ojisan in constant high spirits; it was the most she’d seen him smile in months.
“Why you thought that was beyond me,” she heard Date-san complain, turning from her conversation with Saaya to see him groan at Uncle Majima.
“I told ya, you were goin’ too slow,” he spelled it out. “What’re you sayin’ I should’ve done, be late to Kiryu-chan’s party?”
“The solution to getting stuck in traffic is not to bail out and run the rest of the way.”
“Listen, Date-san, I ‘preciate the lift. But if ol’ Majima can’t manage to run a few miles on his own, then what kinda person does that make me?”
“An insane one.”
“Insane, yeah, but definitely not late.”
“And I’m still stumped on how you managed to outrun a car,” Date-san sighed. “But you did forget one thing.”
“Eh? You callin’ my skills into question?”
He dropped a white box onto the table. “Your cake, Majima.”
Dinner was just about done, all the various dishes eagerly eaten up and put away. The lone cake box on the table caught everyone’s attention.
“Is that dessert?” someone asked, reaching out.
“Hey, hands off!”
The short exclamation was as snappy as it was abrupt, and it took a few moments to locate who had said it.
“Majima,” Kaoru drawled, “you’re not actually planning on keepin’ it all for yourself, are you?”
“The hell? Do I look like a stingy bitch? ‘Course not!”
“You look like,” Karou grimaced, “something.”
Uncle Majima looked affronted, yes, but his crossed arms and closed off body language made it hard to know whether he was trying to be intimidating or look as inconspicuous as possible.
“Majima-san… you brought the cake?”
The question from Ojisan broke the standstill. He had on that silly little smile which Haruka loved to see nudge its way through his usual stoicness.
“It’s for, uh…” Uncle Majima grew visibly flustered all of a sudden. “It’s for Kiryu-chan, of course.”
He refused to elaborate, suddenly shy under the spotlight. Ojisan opened the box.
"Christmas cake?" It was, indeed, Christmas cake, bright red strawberries placed delicately atop an abundance of white cream and frosting. Haruka was surprised to see none of Uncle Majima’s usual flair decorating it – he liked to personalize things, but this cake wasn’t adorned with any sort of embellishments.
Still, those magic words made everyone coo with interest. Everyone except for Ojisan, who was still staring at Uncle Majima like he was unreal.
“Hey, hey, hey, I said it was fer Kiryu-chan, not you chumps!” Uncle Majima again fended off the hands that reached out, which approached a bit more cautiously this time.
Then, he froze. “Wha… Kiryu-chan?”
A spoon hovered in front of his dumbstruck face, brimming with fluffy Christmas cake. Ojisan held the spoon aloft, waiting.
“Kiryu-chan,” Uncle Majima said slowly, “what are you doing?”
“Feeding you.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you.”
That dopey smile was out in full force now. Haruka saw a lone tear streaking down his cheek.
“Majima,” his voice was reverent, and a little choked up, “thank you. Thank you so much for putting this together for me and Haruka. It couldn’t have been easy, yet you made it work because you wanted to help in your own special way. It means the world to me, being able to be with the people I love the most.” Another tear made its way down. “So thank you.”
The spoon was shaking in Ojisan’s grip. “Now eat up, Goro. Because I love you.”
Haruka too reached out, steadying his hands. “Kazuma… Haruka…” Uncle Majima’s bottom lip quivered with emotion. She nodded him a smile, urging him on.
Everyone whooped when Ojisan followed it up right after with a dazzling kiss. Uncle Majima short-circuited.
“ Yosh !” Ojisan clapped. “Let’s eat!”
______
‘Twas the night before Christmas, nearing midnight in the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…
Well, all except one little mouse, too excited to sleep and well past her bedtime. Not like any of the adults could put a stop to Haruka’s fun. Where all that wine had come from Haruka had no idea – it had the effect of turning the entire dining area into one large sleeping area, bodies strewn about in various stages of passing out, whether by alcohol or sheer exhaustion of a fun night in. No one was snoozing alone; it gave a homely vibe to their empty little apartment.
“An’ that’s how ya make some mighty fine takoyaki...”
Ryuji was one of the last ones to stay awake, eyes droopy and grin lopsided. “You get all that, girlie?”
Haruka nodded. “Yes, Mr. Ryuji. I didn’t know you liked cooking so much.”
“Takoyaki’s more than a food!” He got really passionate and raised his voice before remembering where he was. “Those lil’ octopuses, ya gotta – an’ this is important – ya gotta respect ‘em, you see? ‘S an art, a give n’ take: they give us sustenance n’ tasty shit, and we give them…” He scratched his head, frowning in thought. “We give them... we don’ really give ‘em anything except death, huh. Still. Give those blubber balls some well-due respect, awright?”
“Wow.” Haruka gave him her rapt attention. “You’re awesome, Mr. Ryuji.”
Ryuji gave a breathless version of his usual hearty laugh, jovially shaking her shoulder. She had the feeling he didn’t receive blunt praise very often.
“This time I’ll make better takoyaki!” she said with newfound determination. “It didn’t taste so good last time…”
Ryuji seemed to think on something. Then, he leaned closer. “Haruka-chan. I’ll tell ya my super secret, super special technique that always makes finger-lickin’ bites.”
“Really?”
“Hell yeah. Your Uncle Kaz won’t know what hit ‘im. Now listen carefully...”
The yellow dragon towered over her; however she felt no unease in his presence anymore, the last of her apprehension fizzling away as the warmth of his hiccuping rumble and huge fluffy coat and how he ruffled his sleepy sister’s hair wormed their way easily into her forgiving heart.
Eventually he stilled, soon sound sleep. Taking advantage of him snuggling into Daigo’s side, Haruka lifted Ryuji’s tree log of an arm off her and bounded out his lap, looking to sneak a last bite of cake.
She filled her plate, then saw movement in the corner of her eye. “Uncle Majima?”
He was still awake; she almost missed him taking the empty glass out of Ojisan’s sleepy grasp, setting it safely away out of reach.
“Haruka-chan? Still awake?” He zoomed in on the cake. “Tummy tellin’ ya to load up on the sweets ‘fore they disappear?”
“Mhm. At the orphanage we couldn’t always afford a tree or presents or decorations, but we made sure to have Christmas cake every year! It’s one of my favorite desserts.”
“That so? ‘Course it is, ‘cause yer as sweet as a strawberry, hehehe!”
He let out a mild version of his usual cackle. “Oh,” she jumped suddenly. “I almost forgot! I have to give you something. Wait here!”
She ran into her room, leaving a clueless Majima nodding. She came back shortly with a secret grin stretching her face and her hands cupped together.
“It’s for you,” was all she said, smile threatening to burst. And she opened her hands and dropped it in his gloved hand.
Well, there were multiple… things. Three of them, to be precise. Worms on a string were surprisingly hard to come by considering their price, and customizing them moreso, but Haruka was determined. It took a few days to get all the supplies – but in the end, she had come out with three mini fuzzy buddies: yellow, pink, and red, each symbolizing their quaint family members. They even had little accessories: Uncle Majima’s had a mini eyepatch, gave hers a :3 smile, and stuck furrowed eyebrows on Ojisan’s. It was zany. It was ridiculous. It was downright stupid, honestly.
“...”
It was everything Uncle Majima stood for – why, then, did he force out a pained wheeze as if he’d been kicked forty times in the stomach?
Actually, scratch that. She’d seen him and Ojisan fight before; forty kicks pulled nothing but a taunt and wicked smile from this kind of guy.
Right now he was staring at it like it would bite him any second. “Haruka-chan, what is all this?”
“Well,” Haruka wavered at his strange, careful tone but willed herself to stay firm. “You always complain about how boring your life’s been ever since we left Kamurocho. I know I can’t change that, but I thought a reminder of us would make the days go by easier until you had time to visit us! And Ojisan said a good gift came from the heart, not the wallet. So I wanted to make something extra special for you.”
Uncle Majima said nothing, watching the worms spill around his limp hand. Nervous, Haruka plopped herself in the space between his open legs and flung herself forward in a tight hug, hoping he could feel the gratitude that she was squeezing through her tiny arms.
“A-ah…”
Impossibly long limbs stiffened upon contact, but they eventually returned the gesture. Loose at first, cradling her like she were fragile glass – then tight, so desperately tight, a crushing embrace that did the speaking for him, in clenched hands and shaky breaths and jaw moving with invisible words buried in her hair: Thank you for loving me when I don’t deserve it.
“I told you… Haruka and I both missed you.”
Ojisan was awake, watching them both, and even under hooded eyes the effect was intense, affection overwhelming. “I’ll keep saying it until you believe me, Majima-san. When we were rivals, to when we became allies – my feelings have morphed into something beautiful because of you, and they’ve only gotten stronger with each passing moment. It hurts when you’re not by side, like I'm missing a part of my soul, a part of who I am. Our home is empty without you, Goro. That’s how much we miss you.”
He was crying again. Haruka felt a sudden hitch of breath above her and realized Uncle Majima was crying too.
“Kiryu-chan,” He swallowed hard, eye fixated on the worms in his hand, a simple but meaningful gesture. “Haruka-chan… You guys really want me to stick around?”
She nodded vigorously. “No doubt about it.”
“Stay,” said Ojisan, and that lone word was like a prayer. “At least for a few days, so we can celebrate like a family. Please.”
That did it. Uncle Majima was here to stay, completing their unorthodox family, fitting in a perfect slot: at Ojisan's side, with Haruka bridging them together.
"Hey, Kiryu-chan," she heard him whisper, and she giggled at his mischievous tone before he even said the words aloud:
"Where do ya think Haruka-chan managed to get her hands on these fuzzy worm bros? 'Cause I need at least five hundred a’ these wiggly bitches to restore the Majima Family back to its former glory and my men sure as hell ain’t gon’ cut it, ya feel?”