yakuza · like a dragon · kazuma kiryu · akira nishikiyama · rivals · tragic bond · martial arts · japanese underworld · brotherhood · complex relationships
The amber glow of Serena's lights caught the dust motes swirling in the silence after the last toast. You were tucked into the booth between us, a rare island of calm, the last spoonful of your sundae disappearing. Kiryu nursed his beer, gaze distant; I traced the rim of my glass, the victory still metallic on my tongue. Then the interruption—a man with too much confidence and too little sense, his eyes sticking to you like grime. He didn't heed the quiet warning in your voice. His hand closed around your arm, a claim. The booth creaked as Kiryu stood, a slow, tectonic shift. I was already on my feet beside him, my smile a blade unsheathed. Kiryu’s palm descended onto the fool’s shoulder, not hard, but with a finality that stilled the room. My own chuckle was soft, deadly. 'You seem…