#goromako

“It’s not that…” she replied sheepishly. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she tore her eyes away from their surroundings and towards him. “It’s just…my hometown didn’t have anything like this…it’s all new. And before…I could always hear, but not see it.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll git used to it soon.” Goro’s eyes flicked to a nearby wreath then back to her. Between specials at his host club and the endlessly looping music, he’d tired of the season two days in. “Ain’t that amazin’ after your third day of it.”

“Really?” Makoto asked doubtfully. She pursed her lips as she considered their surroundings. “There’s so much,” she swayed slightly and leaned against him, “to see.”

“It’s too bright?” he asked softly. They’d had this problem a few times so far, her freshly healed eyes only able to take in so much before it hurt.

“A little,” she admitted before pressing her face into his arm as she steadied herself. While she wasn’t as stubborn as she used to be—her confidence had been shattered after everything they’ve been through—Makoto rarely showed weakness in public.

It was a rare treat she was leaning on him. Goro half-wanted to wrap an arm around her, but she was still holding onto his sleeve like it was a lifeline. He settled for tousling her short hair. If she was more withdrawn these days, he was more open. “Cute.”

Her ears turned red as she sharply breathed in. Her reactions were cute too. “Don’t tease,” Makoto admonished.

“That’s boring.” He rejected the idea entirely. Goro had spent enough time hiding in the shadows. “And I ain’t gonna lie, not anymore.”

“Right.” That only made her ears turn a darker shade of red. Makoto exhaled softly before pushing off him. She rubbed her watch nervously as she slowly opened her eyes.

“Easy,” he warned, watching her for any signs she was overdoing it.

“It’s fine now.” She blinked a few times before nodding. “Really.”

“If ya say so…” Goro kept close as they resumed their walk. This wouldn’t be the first time she had pretended she was fine.

“I do,” she replied firmly. Makoto gazed at their surroundings in wonder. Her hand rested on his arm. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this. Even in a few years.”

I bet you could. She’d gotten used to him, after all. To his world. To the way people stared whenever they walked together. At some point, Makoto had adjusted to a yakuza life.

Something in him ached at the thought. This wasn’t what he had hoped for when he’d chased revenge for her and cut whatever chains tied her to the past. Makoto was a woman meant for ordinary happiness, not a constant edge of danger.

He tightened his grip on her hand. Perhaps he couldn’t give her a normal date, but he could definitely give her a normal Christmas, gifts and all.

-x-

Le Marche was an expensive place on the best of days. Goro had come a long way from his hosting days, from the times he had to scrimp and save for every scrap of cash that his boss left him after collecting earnings. It had been fine back then. There was little he’d needed, less he’d wanted. Three meals and a roof was all he had lived for then.

Now he was flush with cash. He also didn’t know how to spend it. Makoto was as spendthrift as he was, poverty etched on her bones like a tattoo, and he always had to push her to enter a fancy restaurant, to buy the nicer coat.

She’d like any gift he’d give her. Instinctively, he knew that. The only problem was that Goro had no idea what to give her. It had been easy to act confident earlier but he was lost now. He’d never bought a gift for girlfriend before. His hostesses, sure, but those gifts had been practical or appeasing, picked with as little thought as possible.

Makoto’s gift had to be perfect.

And he had no one to ask for help. There was Kiryu, sure—they bumped into each other ‘accidentally’ on a daily basis now, with one or the other leaving with a split lip and several bruises if they were lucky. Makoto always frowned when he came back with a black eye, her hands already holding the first aid kit to deal with his scrapes. Goro never could find the words to explain why he always had to fight Kiryu, why his blood always thrummed whenever he spotted the man. It just was, and it just would be, and even if he reached 80, he’d still punch at sight.

Still, as fun as Dojima’s dragon was to fight, he clearly wasn’t a ladies’ man. Hell, Kiryu might have even less experience than Goro did, and that was saying something. Whereas his ‘brother’ Nishikiyama looked like he had a hook-up for every night of the week.

Life was unfair.

And none of this helped him pick out a present.

“Sir?” The salesman rubbed his hands nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. His shoulders hunched, his head bowing slightly and showing his well-trimmed black hair. If he stood straight, he’d probably be taller than Goro.  “Can we help you?”

Civilians got intimated so easily. Goro shoved his hands in his pocket, resisting the urge to taunt. He had a goal. “I’m looking for a gift.”

“For Christmas?” the salesman asked, looking a little more confident now that he had a purpose. He stood a little taller. “Would you like to take a look at our jewellery?”

Reaching under the counter, the shopkeeper pulled out two small black cases. Inside, carefully planted on black velvet, were a diamond ring and a sapphire ring. Two larger rectangle cases were placed next to them, necklaces spread out for display. The jewels glittered in the light. “These are our most popular items,” the shopkeeper explained, clasping his hands so tightly his knuckles were white. “We have them available with other gems or metals, if you’d like. White gold is a highly regarded choice.”

“Jewellery, huh?” Goro picked up a case.

How boring. It was such an ordinary, obvious gift. Besides, it all felt too heavy for the fragile relationship they’d just started. He still wasn’t sure they should have started it in the first place; despite her actions, Makoto had not been made for a life underground. And for all her words telling him otherwise, he couldn’t fight the feeling that somewhere down the line, she’d wake up and leave.

Life had taught him much about expectations.

“Come on, find me somethin’ more fun.” He pushed the boxes back.

“Oh.” The salesman licked his lips, shifting on his feet as he looked around the shop. “What about clothing, sir?” He snapped his fingers and a woman rushed forward, a fur scarf in hand. “We have some of the latest styles. Even imported goods.”

Goro plucked the scarf and wrapped it around his neck. Standing in front of the mirror, he twirled once. It was warm but heavy. While it was the perfect size for him, it looked like it would swallow Makoto whole. “Somethin’ else.”

Another snap. Goro tried on a hat. A coat. As he reached for a dress, the salesman coughed. “Sir…uh…we don’t have any in your size.”

Goro’s lip curled, annoyed. “It’s an ugly dress.”

“R-right, sir. We’ll get another.” The salesman spun on his heel.

Goro had no doubt that he’d hate the next item. Everything here was almost too fancy or gaudy, and Makoto didn’t like either of those as much as he did. Leaning against a counter, he rapped his fingers on the hard surface as he considered the store. Was there anything else here worth checking? Maybe their wallets, or—

A watch-filled glass case caught his eye. He sauntered over. Rows upon rows of fancy watches lined the case, their faces inlaid with jewels.

Makoto still wore her watch, even as the straps frayed, even as the colours faded. A semblance of normalcy, she called it.

“Hey.” Goro waved over the salesman. “Take that out.”

Nothing in their life was ‘normal’.

-x-

On Tuesdays, unless the boss called him in for something special, Goro picked up Makoto from therapy. She didn’t need it; even now, she could argue and reprimand with the worst of his teachers. He wasn’t sure if he was protecting her or the poor schmuck who crossed paths with her.

He leaned against a wall, half-hidden in the shadows as he watched the clinic doors. Trouble tended to find him when he was open, and while he wouldn’t mind another round with Kiryu-chan, Goro didn’t want to surprise Makoto with bloodstains. Even if the blood wasn’t his. Especially if the blood wasn’t his.

A small ring and he looked up as the clinic door opened. Makoto stepped out. Goro almost stepped out but she smiled as a man stepped out beside her. Her therapist. He’d met the man a few times and what he’d suspected then rang true now—the louse was interested. It couldn’t be more obvious with the way the therapist turned to Makoto, the way he smiled and squeezed her hand.

Goro clenched his hand, knuckles white.

Makoto laughed, eyes crinkling.

He released his fist. She was happy. She was relaxed.

She was having an ordinary chat with an ordinary man. This was a chance, one that he had been waiting for. If he left now, if he cut off all contact, this man would step in. Makoto could live a long, blissful life, have her 2.5 kids, have uncomplicated joy.

All Goro had to do was turn around, like he’d planned to from the start, like he would have done if she hadn’t grabbed his hand all those months ago and forced him to stay.

Makoto turned, her eyes meeting his immediately. At this point, he was certain she had a gift, she seemed to catch him precisely when he didn’t want her to. Her smile remained and she bowed to her therapist before hurrying across the street.

“Hey,” she greeted, standing in front of him, her eyes meeting his inquisitively. He was certain she could see right through him now.

Goro resisted the urge to duck his head. “Hey.” There was an awkward silence and he hurriedly filled it. “Good session?”

“Yeah. He said it shouldn’t take much longer.” Makoto reached down and squeezed his hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Goro’s eyes flicked from Makoto to across the street, where the therapist was still standing. Their eyes met and the man spun on his heel and returned to the office. It was almost childish, the part of him that wanted to smirk and taunt the man.

Oblivious to it, Makoto kept her hand tucked in his as she tugged him forward. “Let’s go home.”

Maybe it was just his pride, but her smile looked brighter than it had been with the therapist.

“Here.” Goro pulled out a small box from his jacket pocket, pressing it into her free hand. “Take it.”

Makoto stared at it curiously and laughed. “Now? You really have no sense of timing for a big shot host.”

She’d gained quite the sharp tongue these days. Still, two could play at that game. Goro slowly reached for the box. “I’ll take it back.”

“No!” She glared at him, yanking her hand away. “Mine.” When Makoto was confident he wouldn’t take it away, she fumbled with the lid with a hand. “This is harder than I thought.”

Goro stopped walking and pulled his hand free from her grasp. “Easier?”

Makoto paid him no mind as she yanked the lid off the box. Inside, two brown straps were carefully placed on red velvet. She stared at it, tears welling in her eyes.

“I thought your strap—” Goro cut himself off as soon as he noticed her expression. Panicked, he reached for the box. “Why are ya cryin’? Did ya hate it that much? I can take it back.”

“No, it’s not…” Makoto rubbed her eye as she clutched the box to her chest. “I’m just really, really happy. This watch…it’s important to me…”

He felt oddly bitter at the thought. “Normalcy, right?”

“Yeah, but…it’s more than that now.” Her expression softened as she stared at her beat-up watch. “You returned it to me after everything. It’s what connected us together. So it’s very, very important to me now.”

Goro couldn’t reply, couldn’t think. Somehow, that was harder to hear than a love confession. It was deeper, truer. His skin heated up and embarrassed, he looked away. “Should…” he cleared his throat. “Let’s go.”

“Yes.” Makoto tangled her fingers in his once more. Her small, lithe fingers held his hand tightly, as though making sure he couldn’t get away. Goro had long thought he was the one trapping her, but maybe it was the other way around.

Still, she couldn’t blame him. Makoto glanced around the small park, barely bigger than their apartment. Even though she recognized nothing about it, from the bench to the vending machines in the corner to the kids who were racing cars on the dirt, she knew this place. How could she not? The last time they’d been here, she’d disappeared on him.

She lowered her eyes to her hand, to the pink petals resting lightly on her skin.

That was a sad thought.

Today wasn’t a sad day. Forcing a smile, she poked him lightly. “What’s next on the list?”

“We’re still doin’ that? Haven’t ya had enough?” Goro complained as he pulled out a wrinkled sheet from his pocket. Uncrumpling it, he smoothened it out on his thighs.

She leaned against him, her smile real now as he stiffened at their proximity. The printed text was still too hard for her to read and she bit back a sigh as she straightened up. “It’s fun.”

“We can have fun anywhere.” His nose wrinkled as he read the title on the article. “Top Ten Love Spots in Kamurocho. Like ah need a guide to tell ya what to do.”

“We’ve already done five of them,” she pointed out, holding her ground. “And my friends told me to try it out. Don’t you want to finish it?”

“Not really.” He held the sheet closer and squinted at the byline. “Who wrote this crap? Dragon? Who the fuck is Dragon?”

She frowned. “Please.”

“Fine, fine, ah’ll do it.” He ran his finger down the page, stopping when he reached the next point. “5. The Docks for Comfort.”

-x-

The Docks

Makoto was glad she had decided to wear a more practical pants and long-sleeves. Land-locked as she’d been, she’d actually forgotten how chilly it got near water, when the wind sprayed the water just so. The docks smelled of fish and oil, a scent she had remembered, and she wrinkled her nose.  Behind her, she heard a constant thudding, followed every now and then by a groan or the sound of something breaking.

It was nothing like Osaka’s docks.

“The docks.” Noticing her shiver, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. While his skin was warm and his ears red, his tone didn’t change. “Who the fuck thought this was comfortable?”

“Maybe at sunset?” she suggested, gingerly leaning against him as she glanced at the water. A dull, murky colour, no amount of sunshine was enough to make it sparkle.

“Not even then.” Goro snorted, gesturing at the crates next to them. “These’ll block the view. And the smell. And whatever the fuck she’s doing.” He gestured to their left, to where a woman in yellow was hurling around crates in wild abandon. That explained the nose, at least.

“Is that training?” she asked, not sure if she was seeing things right. It looked like she had mannequins shooting at her. A crate broke in two, dropping money everywhere.

Goro looked at her, incredulous. “For what? A war?”

-x-

West Park

West park was warmer than the docks. It was also bigger than the other park, a stone pathway carving in between budding trees and sloping hills. The smell and sounds, however, were just as bad here as it had been by the water.

Which made sense. The canopy spread before her was blue, not green, made of vinyl and cloth, not leaves. A tent city had taken over most of the park, ragged-looking men sitting around as they played go or drank from brown paper bags. There was no way this many people could stay quiet.

Goro glared at the paper in his hand, barely restraining his anger as he growled, “Why would ah take my girl here? It’s full of bums and beer!”

Makoto barely listened as she quietly scanned each homeless man. It was no good; she couldn’t recognize any of them. Even their voices didn’t ring a bell; she’d been lucky enough to remember Goro’s when they’d bumped into each other after her therapy. There had just been too much that night: noise, people, events. Her brother’s death still hung like a shadow over it all, obscuring the small points of light.

Not for the first time, Makoto realized just how many people had carried her to this point. She bowed. “I’m glad we came.”

She hoped someone recognized her, someone saw her now and realized just how grateful she was.

-x-

Sega Center

Makoto squinted at the pixelated screen, at the tiny figures making their way across the screen. So that was what a game looked like. She couldn’t understand the appeal. Feeling a headache forming, she tore her eyes away from the machine’s screen and back to the man beside her. “This is the third spot?”

“Yeah.” Goro shifted eagerly as he scanned the large gaming center. Rows of identical machines boasted different games. Teenagers and adults taunted one another as they competed, buttons smashing quicker and quicker in a show of dominance. His fingers twitched. “The games are different than in Sotenbori.”

That surprised her. “You like games?”

“Maybe not games so much as the hot la—,” he made a strangled nose as he bit his tongue.

Panicked, she grabbed his arm. “You okay?”

His skin paled and he abruptly looked away. “Y-yeah, just peachy.” Clearing his throat, he gestured at the claw machine nearby and the stuffed toys carpeting the bottom of the box. “Ya want one?”

“Huh?” She leaned forward, trying to get a better look at him. “That doesn’t matter. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Ah’m fine.” He smiled at her, too broad and all teeth and definitely hiding something. The only good thing was that she didn’t see any blood, so despite his actions earlier, he really was okay. “The toy?”

“Sure.” Makoto frowned, following him to the machine. What had that been about, then? His profile looked almost feverish now, his ears red and skin sweaty. Maybe he was coming down with something. She’d have to get him medicine when they got back. “So you do like games?”

Goro’s fingers slipped on the toggle, the claw going down at a random spot. “Y-yeah. Only this one.”

The claw pulled back to its original position, giving him a chance to try again. Makoto cocked her head, perplexed. “You collect stuffed animals?”

“What?” Goro snorted. This time, the claw moved smoothly, picking up a purple puppy and a blue cat before retracting. He smirked as he turned to her, crossing his arms and leaning against the machine. “See? Nothing to it.”

The animals slide out of the hole at the bottom and she squeezed the soft toys, amazed. “Which one do you want?”

He immediately shook his head. “None. They’re yours. Ah don’t collect ‘em. There was just this girl who wanted one and ah got it for her. That’s all.”

“A girl?” Somehow, that didn’t surprise Makoto. Despite what he said, he was kind, his heart big, and she didn’t think he could turn anyone down if they asked for help.

“Yeah, this li’l runt. She kept calling me Pa—” Immediately, he made a strangled noise as he bit his tongue.

Makoto flinched. “Again!?”

-x-

Maharaja

Makoto wasn’t much of a dancer. Even before her kidnapping, she’d been uncomfortable in big crowds, preferring the relative quiet of home and hearth. Maharaja was none of those things—the wide, open room reminded her of a firework show: all colour and sound. In the dimly lit areas, she could just make out the shapes of couples and friends as they drank, their conversation drowned out by the never-ending dance track.

Goro however, didn’t seem to have that issue. He looked comfortable as soon as they’d stepped, making his way to the glittering dancefloor as though he’d done it before. Maybe he had. He never talked much about his past and she never asked. Despite his annoyed expression as they’d made their way in, the second he’d stepped on the brightly-coloured tiles, the disco-ball bathing them in colourful lights, he immediately started dancing.

In all of her life, Makoto could state she had never seen anything like that before. He twirled, with the poise and grace of a professional, his hair looking even more messy, if possible. Below his breath, he hummed along as he sang. It wasn’t the kind of music she’d pegged him for and she giggled as he twirled.

Noticing her stare, he flushed and gestured for her to come over. “Ya should dance too.”

Immediately, she shook her head. “I’m not—”

“Come on.” Ignoring her protests, Goro grabbed her hand, pulling her under the bright lights. “Why even come here if ya don’t dance?”

His grip was warm and tight, and she stared at it for a moment before nodding. Part of point this whole list was to try new things, after all. “If you say—”

“That was some good dancing.” A long-haired man stepped out of the shadows, adjusting his glasses. Makoto jumped, not expecting him. There was a strange glint in his eyes as he appraised Goro. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen that much talent.”

A woman laughed, her blue dress shimmering as she followed. Every step was full of strength and grace, and Makoto wasn’t sure how she felt about her coy smile. “Ohh, and he’s good looking too. I think I might be a fan.”

For a long moment, they all stared at each other in silence. These strangers had smug smirks, like challengers in a fight, but neither of them made a move. Confused, Makoto glanced at Goro. “Huh?”

Unlike her, Goro just looked annoyed. Lips pressed into a thin line, he looked up at the ceiling beseechingly. “Is there no such thing as a normal club?”

-x-

Makoto hadn’t expected their date to end as it had started: in the small park. The kids were long gone now, their footprints in the dirt the only sign they’d even been there. Goro groaned, leaning back against the bench, and she glanced at him. He looked exhausted. Then again, she’d be tired too if she had been forced to dance against those two strangers.

Apparently, it was a popular thing to challenge good dancers to a dance fight. They refused to take no. Goro refused to lose. It had been the strangest battle Makoto had ever witnessed, but she preferred it to the bloody fists and pointed guns.

“You okay?” she asked, leaning forward to wipe his sweaty bangs out of his face.

He stiffened at her touch again, his eyes looking everywhere but her. “Ah’m fine,” Goro muttered, sounding embarrassed. “Didn’t think that’d take so long. Must have bored ya.”

“No, it was fun.” Makoto smiled as she sat on the bench next to him, her hands clasped on her lap. “I didn’t know you’re so good at dancing.”

“Ah’m not really…” Flustered, Goro glared at the garbage can as though it was at fault for what had happened. “Just picked up a few things here and there.”

It didn’t look that way to her, but she knew better than to press. Taking pity, she changed the topic. “What’s next?”

Goro raised a brow, confused. “Next?”

“On the list.” She interlaced her fingers, stretching her arms before her. “We just have the last one, right?”

“Oh, that.” He relaxed, pulling out the crumpled sheet again. It crinkled as he opened it. “Last, go to a love ho—” Goro choked, his face turning a bright red as he cut himself off. He glanced at her, then at the paper, then at her again. Before she could say anything, he crumpled the paper and hurled it at the garbage bin. “Ah’m goin’ to kill that bastard.”

“Huh?” Makoto stared at him, then the bin, not sure where to go first, what to ask first. This was like the game center again, and maybe she should really get him to go to a doctor. “Are you okay?”

Still standing, he grinned ferally, pulling out a box of matches. He lit one and toss it in the bin, laughing. “Ah’m fine. He ain’t.”

“Goro!” Makoto ran over to the trash can, but it was too late. Everything inside was burning. Just what could have made him go that far? Biting her lip, she grabbed his matches before he could do any more damage. “What did he say?”

“A…A…” Just as quickly as his murderous rage came, it disappeared, his skin flushing a bright pink as he struggled with his words.

“Was it bad?” she asked helpfully, squeezing his arm as she tried to guide him through it.

“Not really but…” Resembling a lobster, he suddenly jerked his arm free and stiffly turned around. “Lovely taikyaki. That’s what it said. Let’s get some.”

“What?” Makoto pinched herself, not sure if she was dreaming. It was the only way it would make sense. Unfortunately, all it did was send a jolt of pain up her arm.

“It said to get taikyaki. Some lovely taikyaki.” Goro turned back to her, his expression almost pleading for her to not ask any questions as he continued, “Ya want some?”

“That…” Makoto glanced at the still burning trash can. She’d have to get another copy of the magazine later. For now, though, she’d just have to let it go. “Sure.”

“Great.” He beamed brightly and she knew she’d made the right decision. Probably. “Wait here, ah’ll get it.”

Before he could jog away, Makoto grabbed his hand. When he shot her a questioning look, she smiled brightly. “I’ll go with you.”

Last time, she’d let go of his hand. This time, she wanted to hold it tight.