#im sick...

' ' awh it looks really nice. . . ! ' '

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 them 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.”

Obligingly 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 wall.

“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?”