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 nods.

And... doesn't seem like he's going to complain. Or argue. Or tell him he shouldn't do... anything, really. Oh, his heart drops into his shoes at the way Pagan says it and an echo of that shows in his eyes for just a moment, but he pushes past it. Nods again as he pours out for himslef. It might be an extra finger or so.

"I figured."

Pagan watches him, sees that expression, and something inside of him breaks a bit.

Oh this is hardly fair. He claps him on the shoulder. "That just means you have to figure out a way to entertain me for the remainder of my stay, hm?"

Kiryu doesn't see that, isn't looking because he's focused on what Pagan said. Some way to entertain him.

"Cards, darts, pool..."

His eyes wander towards the rest of the room and it says something about his life experience that instead of saying the obvious, he says "a fight?"

Pagan takes a drink and blinks as he looks down to the glass. "A what?"

Damn, that's good whisky. He takes another drink and tilts the glass towards him. "You're more Yakuza than you think you are."

Pagan did not say, nor did he imply, no.

“I’m an old gokudo,” he answers with a mild correction, “and I’m not half the saint my reputation makes me out to be.”

Don’t think he didn’t notice that lack of a no.

“We could go out to the batting cages. The mahjong parlors,” and there’s a twist to his lip that says he knows that’ll be both too familiar and frustratingly different, “dinner, drinks. Karaoke.”

He shrugs at the difference.

"First. Your man gives me my man. And then you can take me all over this city," he says, placing the glass down onto the table. "And until then, you can stay here and wait. Or get your weapons. Up to you."

Kiryu opens his mouth to answer when Pagan’s phone rings. So he switches to just tipping his head to the phone and gesturing he’s welcome to answer it.

Pagan answers the phone, but puts it on speaker, just in case the language gets lost. Kiryu makes for a poor translator, but it's better than nothing.

Thankfully, the Florist is prone to slow, lazy speech… and he lets them both know the man is currently running up his tab at the Dragon Palace. Which makes Kiryu sigh.

“Thank you. I’ll take him off your hands.”

The man laughs and the headshake is real. Of course he will.

Kiryu looks to Pagan.

“He’s about one block over. But I have to show you the entrance. They won’t show it to you without me.”

Well, that helps.

Pagan hangs up and puts his phone back in his pocket. "Of course they won't," he mutters. "Well." He considers his drink, but leaves it on the table. "I'll come back for that. Let's go."

Kiryu, on the other hand, is just hoping that Akiyama hasn't thought to go drinking with his old buddies today. That would put a definite crimp in his plans. But he pushes himself up, finishes his drink, and nods.

"The only reason I have an in is because I'm not a fan of homeless hunters," he says honestly as he straightens his cuffs. Red. He's never seen blood like this; he wonders if its the same.

"Of course you aren't. You're a good man," he says, but means it as a joke. "Of course you wouldn't be." He starts towards the door to put his shoes on, pauses, and remembers his gun.

"What are you a fan of? Aside from karaoke, batting cages, and - what was the other? Ah. Fighting."

He doesn't have to think long about that one.

"Cars," he says with a dip of his head, "pocket circuit. Real ones. I like cars."

He also likes trading card games, normal card games, pool, darts-

"You missed a couple others."

Pagan tsks. "I'm only understanding a third of what you say," he says with a laugh, pulling on his shoes and tying them. He's not exactly telling the truth, but he's not exactly lying.

"What did I miss?"

"Darts, cards, pool," he says, and this time he mimes each one of them. "I play mahjong and shogi too, but I bet I play it differently from you."

"You probably do. So then I'll have to teach you how to play it right." He opens the door and leans against it to wait for him. "Oh I need to collect my little soldiers," he tsks. "They're on loan."

He doesn't say anything about that as he pushes his shoes on and collects his things. Everything tucked away, he nods and steps out past Pagan.

"You haven't told me what you're a fan of."

He's just pointing that out.

Pagan slips a hand in his pocket. "I'm a fan of food," he tells him. "Good food, mind you. I like guns. Good guns. Fast, flashy cars. Real ones, not miniatures."

He takes the stairs, rubbing the back of his neck.

A soft huff, because yeah, he likes the real ones too, but he's never really had the money to throw around for that kind of thing. He can now, but... not if he wants to fly under the radar.

"I like food too. There's a lot of great places here."

He starts walking towards the stairs.

"Guns are... fine."

He doesn't love guns. Been shot too many times. And he's better with melee weapons.

Pagan looks up to him. "We don't have to share interests, you know." Once they're outside, he's back to looking at the skies again, taking in the colors of the sunset.

"Holy shit." He reaches over and grabs his arm, nodding towards the colors of the sunset sky.

Kiryu looks up to see what Pagan's responding to, and it's-

It's a lot. It's beautiful, even here, in the heat of the city, with all the lights and nonsense. He can't even imagine what it would look like in Okinawa, on the beach or on the porch of the house. It makes something in his chest constrict. But so does seeing the color of the sunset.

"Beautiful," and he says it in English after he says it in Japanese.

"Agreed."

There might be some perks to this. He takes a moment, drinks it in. "I wonder what that would look like from the mountains," he mutters. "Plenty of time to find out. Not a lot of time to chase shitty cousins. Let's go."

Another of those tiny eyerolls before he starts off, heading down the stairs, and out one of the back entrances that leaves them even closer. He'll trot down the street, heading for what looks very much like a service elevator at the back of an abandoned building. There's a number of homeless men out back, squatting in the entryway. All of them smile as they see him walk up and there's a few murmurs that he does his best to quiet before he dips his head and leads the way into the building and towards the elevator. No one stops them, though there are a few looks at Pagan.

Pagan sends the guard away well before they arrive at the building and, consequently, he walks much closer to Kiryu. He's trusting the other man, this supposed soul mate of his, to keep him safe. Pagan can hold his own, but he's certainly not on familiar territory here.

He can feel the eyes on him, the questioning and suspicious gazes, but that's nothing new to him. He just follows him into the elevator silently.

"They know you."

"They do," he says with a nod, "since I used to spend a lot of time here."

He presses the button for the right floor and it dings as the doors open smoothly. Despite the appearance, the elevator looks to be clean and well-maintained.

"Do you want me to help you drag him out if we have to?"

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