openmisc | A colorful AU!

A colorful AU!

The world is gray. Always gray. He had thought once, as a little boy, that the emergence of color would be a wonderful thing. He used to dream that finding that person, that getting to see everything in brilliant Wizard Of Oz technicolor would be something he would always cover until it happened.

But after Ishwari, after the betrayal and the loss, after Ajay and Lakshmana left to America after Mohan's failed assassination attempt, Pagan just gave up on that dream. Love, he decided, was just for those who have given up on themselves. Not worth the trouble.

Yuma became the face of Kyrat after that and Pagan stepped back, letting her handle the death threats and the rebels and all of the bullshit that he just didn't want to deal with. Pagan ruled from the back, tempering Yuma's impulsive bullshit with a cooler head, though no less ruthless. However, the arrangement left him free to roam the world, taking care of his business in Hong Kong and the mainland unmolested. His father might not have had the desire to rule the Triads, but Pagan sure as fuck does. Even if it means he has to go and do things himself.

It's this reason, chasing spineless Hong Kong assholes, that lands him in Japan. He has a small security detail that walks the crowd, but otherwise Pagan is by himself as he walks the streets, checking his phone for his victim's last location.

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He would have. He makes the mental adjustment, even though it doesn't change much in the grand scheme for him. But if the difference mattered to his soul mate, he'd adjust. He listens to the rest, taking in the flamboyance, the tone even if the 'darling' is guessed at more than known.

In some ways, exactly what he expected. In others? Not at all.

"I can get a bottle to bring with us. If you want."

He says it just loud enough the mama can set aside a bottle of his preferred scotch if the man nods.

He finishes his drink and gives him a quick nod. The fact that this man is his soul mate, the one who completes him, all of the nonsense they spout off when telling children, has no bearing on how he's reacting to this at the moment. That's a complication for later. He can't think of him like that. He's so very opposite of who and what Pagan is that it's difficult for him to just - settle in.

Now, the man is a mystery, a puzzle piece that he would like to know about.

"Go ahead. Let's talk somewhere private." He already has a hotel nearby, so he glances to his remaining guard.

Kiryu isn't thinking about... anything, really. It's too much. It's the kind of thing he needs a night of staring at the stars, a pack of cigarettes, and something to do with his hands to process, so he's taking care of the parts that matter right now.

This man is important to him, even though he doesn't know anything except that he's some manner of higher level Triad, here looking for a traitor (more than likely) and they don't know anything about one another.

He's also supposed to be dead, so this is going to involve breaking that illusion to someone who he barely knows. And he very much doubts, given what he did to the Snake Flower Triad and the Saio Triad groups that that name is unknown to him.

He's taking the scotch bottle and a soft, sympathetic smile from the mama before he tips his head to the door.

He'll go first. He can handle people coming at his back just fine.

Pagan follows dutifully behind him, quiet at first. But he doesn't feel inclined to stay silent.

"It's pink," he tells the other man as they walk, holding out a sleeve for him. "Pink. My mother would wear this color, so I had our tailor, whose soul mate was a very charming man from Ireland, make me one with the same. It's quite bright, but I don't think I'll stop."

"It suits you," he says quietly as they walk along, and it's clear that he isn't just saying that, he does mean it. Even if he's just getting used to color in general. His own hand runs along the deep red of his shirt.

"...I always thought this was the right red."

It's nice to see he was right.

The compliment is soft, but Pagan feels a deep sense of satisfaction from it. A fear he's always had, and still carries, is that he would meet this person and they would be wholly uninterested in him. After all, who would want someone like Pagan?

At least he likes the suit.

"Yes, yes, very striking and all that," he says with a wave of his hand, though it's not a gesture of dismissal. He just likes the movement. "The red is quite nice." He looks up, to the buildings and past them. "If I wasn't certain to make a spectacle of myself, I think I could sit here and just watch all day. Think of all the things I've missed! I'll have to revisit a few places."

Kiryu, on the other hand, had always assumed that his soul mate had died. Perhaps they'd been killed by Kazama-san. Or some other assassin? He doesn't know. But after fifty years, he'd thought that it was likely he was never going to meet them. The idea that they'd been in Hong Kong of all places...

And him locked up here all these years.

He pushes past it and listens to the voice of his soul mate as they walk through the crowded Kamurocho streets. It makes his lip curl a little at the corner as they do, what he says.

"I could show you a few good spots. This place has hundreds of stories playing out every day."

"Eh, maybe later," he says, hands behind his back as they walk. He ever so often glances up at his face. The other man is taller than him, which is something Pagan has resigned himself to. Ishwari was taller than him, too. Such is life. But he does get to see that small change in his expression. Pagan doesn't quite recognize it as a smile yet, but it's something good. It's something to work towards.

And here's Pagan, getting all sentimental. He curses himself mentally for it. He has to stay alert.

Though, oddly enough, he hasn't once felt uncomfortable around the other man. He has never thought himself in danger. He hasn't ever worried for himself. In fact, it's quite the opposite. Pagan actually feels rather safe around him.

A curious feeling.

"I have children," he admits. "They would like this city. They always liked the city."

He's feeding bits of himself to the other man in small pieces. Hong Kong. Children. Relationship to his mother. Pagan loves to talk about himself, but he also is looking for reactions. Constantly assuming the worst.

"I..." and there's a pause because he has to get over a certain amount of trepedation, and then another bundle of guilt, "I have children too. Only one of them's ever been here."

A pause.

"She likes it. Usually."

They're almost at the hotel district. He gestures towards the many buildings and glances back at Pagan.

"Pick whichever you like. I'll get us a room."

He has children? Pagan files that information away in his mind, glad that he's not alone in this. It isn't unheard of for people to get together and have families with people who aren't their soulmates - but it is a risky venture.

"Oh let's just go with that one there," he says, inclining his head towards one that seems good enough. He turns to his guard and gives him a few whispered words. The man nods and walks away, though he gives Pagan a rather suspicious glance. Fortunately, most people know what it's like to come across a soul mate, so his behavior isn't out of the realm of the ordinary.

Pagan simply isn't normally this carefree about strangers.

"Do you need money?" he wonders idly.

He shakes his head. And Kiryu will lead the way into the love hotel like he's been here a dozen times, mostly because he has. Not for the intended purpose: while he'd had to apologize to a few girls over it, it was usually a pretty easy spot to get someone when they owed money.

Quickly enough, they have the room key and they're lead into rather somewhat overdone room with a very specific purpose. Kiryu, however, doesn't walk in with even an ounce of romance in his step. Instead, he'll head for the little bench near the door where he can remove his shoes and sit.

He'll make sure to leave room for Pagan.

"I can't speak my name in public. Thank you for understanding."

He walks in and sits down, stretching his legs out in front of him a moment before he takes off his shoes. The room is fine; Pagan's done enough business in hotels like these to become desensitized to them and their implications.

"Ah, don't worry about it. I didn't tell you mine, either. I think if I did, my guards would shoot me," he laughs in a way that implies they wouldn't dare.

"Now, let's get past all of that. Tell me. I'm dying to know."

He sits back and crosses his arms, looking at Pagan, clearly watching the response.

"My name is Kiryu Kazuma."

Who is dead. By all accounts, by all rumor, dead as a doornail. And yet, there's a steadiness to his eyes, a weight to the name in his mouth, in the air around him, a crackle of something to his very presence when the words hang between them?

He's not lying.

The Fourth Chairman of the Tojo Clan, the Dragon of Dojima, undefeated and apparently, unkillable.

Pagan takes a moment, takes in that name, and starts to laugh. And then, because Japanese is just so difficult to get across, he continues in English. "Oh my god! You're fucking serious, aren't you? You damn fool- what the fuck were you doing back here?"

He shakes his head and stands up, needing to pace a moment. He switches back to Japanese.

"Kiryu Kazuma," he repeats. "You're a very clever man. Also, somehow, a very stupid one." He puts a hand to his chest.

"Pagan Min." And because Pagan loves his own titles, he adds: "King of Kyrat. Mountain Master and Dragon Head of the Triad Empire." He gives him a bow and a flourish.

He doesn't understand the English, but he can understand the tone. There's a very faint, almost microscopic eyeroll before he settles, a little crooked, with his back against the wall.

Nothing Pagan says surprises him, about himself or... about himself.

"Min-san." A dip of his head, but certainly no deference. Titles are nice. He has some of his own. They don't mean anything between them, or they shouldn't.

"What did you ask earlier?"

Pagan sits at the edge of the bed, watching him. He doesn't want deference from Kiryu, nor does he want a fight. What he does want is for this man to know exactly who he's dealing with though, judging by his reputation and what Pagan's heard of him, they're on rather equal footing.

Good.

"When?" he wonders. "I've asked a lot of questions. Most of them have gone unanswered."

"You keep speaking in English. My English..." how does he say this? Well- "My English is bad."

He pauses for a moment before pulling out a fragment he learned years ago, and it is awkward on top of just being, uh-

"Hey sweetcheeks, how's it going?"

Pagan stares at him a moment, absolutely delighted by this. How is this big man, all muscles and frowns, equally, well, adorable? Honestly, this soul mate thing is looking less terrible and more endearing as the moments go on. And yet, Pagan still can't help but feel that maybe it's all manufactured in some way. Maybe he's supposed to feel these things because of some cosmic design.

And there's nothing he hates more than being forced to do things.

That's a complaint for later. "Well, we must teach you. Because Japanese is not a language I'm fully comfortable with and I speak three. Three! Anyway. I asked what the fuck you were doing back here when you're supposed to be dead."

That makes two of them. In his case, however, his heart is too busy fluttering at the very idea of having a soulmate, something he'd given up on a long time ago, to entirely discount it.

The question gets a huff out of him, though.

"I have a few specialty weapons. I needed my weaponsmith to do repairs. He's a few streets over."

Pagan holds up his hands at that. "Well, I am sorry you were interrupted. I did see the aftermath of that fight."

He looks at his nails a moment, deliberately nonchalant. "Where is it you're living now?"

He just shakes his head.

"Nowhere solid," he says honestly, and Pagan can probably see it, feel it: he's just terribly earnest. Imagining him lying is... difficult. Withholding, certainly; he doesn't seem to want to speak more than is necessary. But an actual lie seems unlikely.

"Hotels. Safehouses. I work for the government now. In exchange for the safety of my children and the people I care about."

And there it is. Rightout. No hiding, no run around.

And that, Pagan decides, is absolutely unacceptable. But. One problem at a time. "Well, that won't do. Because I'm not living here with a dead man who works for the government, of all things." He shakes his head. "That's a problem for another day."

It might be presumptuous to assume that they're going to be together, live together, stay together, but Pagan isn't entirely sold on the feelings of a soul mate, but he is quite committed to ensuring that nothing happens to him.

It says something that his eyes go a little wide… but he doesn’t argue.

“And your business in the city?”

He checks his phone. "Should be over very shortly. Once my little problem is taken care of." He smiles at that, standing up to rejoin him on the bench. "Oh. Also, none of this Min name. Call me Pagan. I westernized it for a reason. I don't need another reminder of my father, please."

It's clear in his eyes that he has a good idea about what could happen to such a person. Not squeamish, this one.

"If you tell me about who you're looking for, I might be able to help...Pagan-san."

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