DRAGON OF DOJIMA.

private and selective kazuma kiryu of rgg studio's ryu ga gotoku / yakuza series. carrd pending. penned by moomin. very, very sporadic activity. rules expanded below the cut.

my mind is absolutely consumed with thoughts of how childish and immature kiryu really is and how it really hammers in that being the strongest guy with iron clad morals has zero concurrence with being mature or well-adjusted in any capacity

and even though the morning glory kids love him, hes still technically not a good parental figure and rather irresponsible with them too..

which is also shown with how he dumped hoisted the role of chairman onto daigo but didnt actually help him prepare for it bc kiryu rly does not think far ahead in any capacity in anything he does :)

The silence they ate in was comfortable. Few words were exchanged as they went through and savored their chinese takeout in peace, accompanied with just the sound of their chopsticks scraping the bottom of the cardboard box and the city's ambiance of idle chatter, honking taxi cabs, and passing footsteps: hurried ones, drunken and languid ones, steady and confident ones.

Of course Hyesung never believed that Kiryu was dead. Despite the former chairman's best efforts to conceal the truth and keep a low profile under the Daidoji, for the sake of those around him (Haruka and Haruto, the other children at morning glory...), those who truly knew Kiryu couldn't reconcile with idea he kicked the bucket the way officials claimed. Especially with the lack of a body.

As long as Kiryu maintained the presence that he was indeed not the fourth chairman and legendary Dragon of Dojima, they could eat in peace. Kiryu's sunglasses remained on his face for the duration of the meal, but every now and then, he'd peer over his lenses to analyze the other, only to met with a familiar pair of eyes staring right back at him, clouded over with unspoken understanding.

People like us don't get golden endings. Not with the lives we lived. Not with these stained hands of ours. All they do is break everything they touch.

With that, he let loose a withheld sigh, shoulders dropping as he reached towards his own face to remove his eyewear.

"You look tired. You need to make sure you're getting enough rest."

What exactly was he trying to impart here? Was this really for Hyesung? He questioned whether or not these were appropriate parting words. For all Kiryu knew, he had to continue on with the expectation they may never see each other again.

"I wonder how Kotetsu is doing."

When his observation earns him a look of confusion, he shakes his head in apology, realizing context was absolutely needed. He gestures towards the feline situated in someone's windowsill observing the foot traffic below, his features soften.

"Ah... I got myself roped into helping a guy running a cat cafe. He ran into an issue... he didn't have any cats." A key factor in cat cafes, as one would imagine. Kinu found this incredibly amusing, and almost looked disbelieving.

"I'm serious. I found about nine cats for him. Took a few tries to win their trust, too. I remember Kotetsu responded well when I gave him bonito flake cat food. Some of the cats were really particular for the cat food that was nearly ten thousand yen..."

The cat, upon realization that they were being watched, immediately jumped off the sill and out of sight, eliciting a gentle, rumbling laugh from under Kiryu's breath.

"Heh. You know, you remind me of a cat, Miss Kinu." Oh, he knew for sure she would demand he elaborate-- he could feel her sharpened gaze fixed on him, as though daring him to explain what he means. Or perhaps, based off her eager features, she just wanted an excuse to trade blows...

"You're graceful like one. Bold. Confident. Pretty damn assertive, and particular of who you're comfortable with."

"Be sure to tell me if I'm spinning too fast."

You'd think he would know his own strength by now! And yet, it was all too easy to get swept up in the moment, especially in her presence. Towa was, after all, a weak spot for him. Far too often did he find himself caught up in the melodious sound of her laughter, wanting to hear more of it, how frequently it overrode his senses and reasoning. Even as the evening drew on, he hadn't had his fill of her and the sight of her smile.

It was the least he could do to make up for his prolonged absences, unexplained and unplanned. With each return, he mentally prepared himself to see her in the arms of another, knowing he had no business hoping she would wait. He wouldn't let her wait; he wasn't worth it.

The sight of her hair as it billowed freely in the wind while he spun the playground merry-go-round was mesmerizing. When he first saw her race for it, his lips parted, as though readying to say 'aren't we a bit too grown for that?', but he knew she'd rightfully counter back with evidence of his penchant for hunting down the most optimized parts for pocket circuit and racing against other kids, or how much money he'd blow on those capsule machines... (why'd he tell her about the million dollar yen machines from the 80s...?)

"Hm? ... Heh. I think I might look a bit silly if I tried to jump on that with you."

The pout on her face was all it took to send that argument into the garbage bin. With a sigh, not of exasperation but amusement, he released his grip on the handles and drew a few steps back, bracing himself to potentially eat shit on the pavement if he doesn't make it, and charged with all his might towards the spinning contraption, and yes, he was absolutely doing a warrior-like yell as he rushed forward, much to the amusement of those passing by.

42. image based prompt.

"That sad look on your face really doesn't suit you." The observation is frank and to the point; he was never one to hold or still his tongue, after all. As a man of little words, the few words that were spoken were chosen carefully, with little embellishments or frill, and, at this point in his life, after everything he's endured up to this point, he knew it was best to say what needed to be said instead of leaving it unspoken... or saying it when it was too late.

"Heh. It's not that ill - fitting, is it? My shirt, I mean." His iconic crimson red shirt was loose. Far too loose. The undone top buttons at betrayed just how drastically his health had fallen-- how the vibrancy of his skin tone dulled, how much muscle tone he'd lost, how pronounced his collar bones were... a testament to how much time has passed and how his illness claimed more of him every day.

The sand was warm beneath their feet, and the waves that lapped at their feet was welcomed. The sun had begun its descent in the horizon, bathing the sky in radiant reds, saturated blues, and warmed orange.

" ... I apologize. You and I finally reunite after I disappear for years, just for you to find out that I'm living on borrowed time. I know an apology will never make up for the torment I've caused you, but I'm grateful you came out here to meet me." It was a loose end he wanted to tie-- not for his own sake, but theirs as well. A proper means of closure. It was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, cruel. A cruel, cruel kindness.

This was his rightful punishment, after all. Poetically and appropriately reaped for his failure to ask for help, for being too stubborn to want to rely or depend on anyone. It was a burden he didn't want anyone to bear. Not Haruka, not the other children, not Dante.

How can we call this world just when men like you don't get a happy ending? He'd recalled those words said by the proprietor of the Survive Bar.

kiryu should've died. perhaps not from the cancer, but at least on his own terms, defending what he loves.

if i make a proper return, its very in character for me to have had kiryu disappear / fake his death for a long time, for every ship he has, and everyone's welcome to react to that accordingly : ^ )))))))))