A/N: For the Kamurocho Life Zine : Second Edition! I got assigned winter and fashion and spent a little too much time trying to figure out how Christmas was perceived in the 80s/early 90s for a few lines of description. XD That is the life. Anyways, still adoring these two.
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This wasn’t normal.
In all honesty, it wasn’t like Goro knew much about normal. He had worked for the yakuza, betrayed his boss, slaved away at a hostess club for years, and now he was back with his family after a strange, tragic series of events. Hell, he ran around in a snakeskin jacket these days as he picked fights.
Normal was never a word that applied to him.
He wished it did. On days like today, when Makoto strolled next to him, her eyes bright with curiosity, it was only more obvious just how different their lives were from an ordinary couple on the street. People whispered and stared as they walked by. His outfit certainly didn’t help them blend in. Most gave the pair a wide berth and any punk that tried otherwise fled when Goro glared. If Makoto noticed, she didn’t say anything.
Normal wasn’t something he could give her, not without retiring. And in the yakuza, there was no such thing as retirement.
The honourable thing to do would be to leave her.
As though sensing his thoughts, Makoto gripped his hand tighter as she pointed at a wreath covered in lollipops and other sweets as they passed a candy shop. Then again, Goro had a selfish streak to him. At this point, he wasn’t sure he could leave her.
“I can’t believe they did this overnight.” Makoto sighed blissfully as she glanced up. Every streetlight had a ribbon on it and strings of light criss-crossed between buildings, creating a colourful net above the street.
“Didn’t think you’d like it so much, or I’d ‘ave brought ya here sooner,” Goro said, trying not to laugh as she fixated on a statue of a tanuki with a Santa hat. Holidays had meant nothing to him—no one in his family had ever cared for it, and so he hadn’t either. Christmas especially had been for lovers and foreigners, and he wasn’t the latter and never had time for the former.
It still meant nothing to him, but he couldn’t help but see everything with new eyes when he was with Makoto.
“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.
All this time, maybe it had been Makoto trapping him.
I think when it comes to traditional art I prefer the pencil sketch to the final linework like 95% of the time. 😓 More flexibility and less pressure, I guess.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Title: what we do for each other
Fandom: Persona 5 (vanilla or Royal)
Rating: G
Relationships: Akechi Goro / Niijima Makoto
Words: ~2,000
Summary: A late night, impromptu study session in Sis's office reminds Makoto of just how dangerous Akechi can be – and how she still feels the urge to help him anyway.
