Chapter Text
Kiryu's arms were getting tired.
He was fanning himself with one of Taichi's discarded comic magazines, but the measly cool air afforded to him was not worth the sheer weight of the thing. He'd opted to move the large fan over to the kids' room to keep it cool for when they got back from school, but it had only been a few hours and Kiryu was already about to melt into a puddle.
He shut the TV off and crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, assuming that would reduce any extra heat, but another wave of hot air flowed over him.
He began weighing the pros and cons of going in the ocean to cool off and maybe catch a fish, but his train of thought was halted by a sharp ring. He fumbled for his phone and flipped it open before checking the caller ID.
"Morning Glory Orphanage," he said, trying not to sound as irritated as he felt.
A sharp laugh burst through the speaker. "You sound sweaty."
Kiryu instinctively straightened his posture. "Sayama? I wasn't expecting your call. And I'm not sweating."
Sayama laughed again, softer this time. "It's, what, almost 100 over there?"
Kiryu furrowed his brow. "I don't think the thermometer goes that high."
Sayama paused for a moment before huffing out a breath. "I knew that."
"Did you, now? America really changed you, you know. You don't even greet people on phone calls anymore."
Kiryu, embarrassingly, savored every moment that he was smarter than Sayama. She was one of the smartest people he knew, after all.
"You know what I meant-"
"You can't convert it, can you?"
"You can't either," she shot back, and Kiryu had to admit she was right. Before he could admit it, Sayama had already changed the subject. "That's not why I called, although I do love hearing you try to outsmart me. How are you guys doing? Have you sorted out the money situation?"
Kiryu rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm okay, the kids are good. Excited to be out of school soon. But, um. Money's tight."
"How bad is it?"
"Uh. I moved the fan to the kids' room and now I think I'm going to evaporate."
"Oh. I take it the job search didn't go well?"
"Nobody has a shift open for just school hours. And the only place that would take me was a cabaret club, but I don't know if I want to be in an environment like that. For the kids, you know?"
Sayama sighed. "Yeah, I get it. Have you thought about fundraisers? I know you guys grow some stuff in the back, maybe you could sell extras?"
Kiryu shook his head before remembering she couldn't see him. "We don't have enough good land for that, and it's all pretty small, anyway."
"Hmm. My colleague was talking about his kids' fundraisers for school, but they're already out for the summer, so they have a lot of free time. Lemonade stands, bake sales, stuff like that. I don't know if you could set up downtown, but you probably won't get much traffic in your yard."
"I think we'd need a permit but, um. I don't think they'd give me one."
"…Right. I forgot they, uh, know about that."
"Doesn't help that the local patriarch is my kyodai now."
"Wait, what-"
"I'm not giving you any more than that, Yakuza Huntress."
Sayama laughed again, but abruptly stopped. "Okay, wait. That just reminded me. You remember when I told you that one of the captains makes me watch American comedies with her when we're off? So I can 'learn about the culture?' We watched this cheerleading movie and they were doing a car wash fundraiser. It was so funny-"
"How much do you think they made?"
"Kiryu-"
"No, I'm serious. The kids might not be up for it, but I used to wash my brother's car all the time. He said I did a good job-"
"It's a movie, they won't tell you how much they made."
"What movie?"
"I told you, it's a stupid cheerleader movie-"
"Was it good? I don't remember if you liked comedy-"
"Kiryu," she groaned.
"It's just a question-"
"Kiryu. I'm not talking about the movie anymore!" He could hear her breathe heavily, probably trying to rein in her temper. It was probably late over there, so she wouldn't want to disturb her neighbors. "Do not hold a car wash."
"Why not? It seems like the best option, all things-"
"Do you even have a hose?"
Kiryu struggled to remember how he watered the garden. "I…think so?"
"Is it long enough to run all the way to the front of the house?"
"Um. No. But I could get a longer one."
"With what money?"
"The…car wash money."
Sayama was silent. Kiryu could see her pinching the bridge of her nose and staring up at the ceiling.
"You still there-"
"This is so you. You haven't even started, and you're already thinking about spending the money you haven't made yet."
"That's business," Kiryu said, with the confidence of a man whose only real job was in real estate in the 80s.
"Oh my god," Sayama groaned in English, before switching back to Japanese. "So you're going to do it outside your house? You'll have to ask your neighbors."
"They won't mind. Yonaha-san never says no to me. You know she brought over some fruit for the kids when the heat wave started? I still had to slice the watermelon but-"
"Yeah, of course you did." Kiryu could swear he could hear Sayama stifle a laugh, at odds with her even tone.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know all those old ladies adore you, right?"
"Yeah, like family-"
"No, like you look like a handsome single father from a drama."
"No."
"Yes. You literally chop wood in the front lawn. Shirtless."
"It's a heat wave-"
"It's not always a heat wave. And you own shirts."
"Why would I wear a shirt to chop wood-"
"Have you ever noticed a crowd gather when you're working outside?"
Kiryu blinked. "Well, yeah-"
"And you never once thought to wonder why?"
"They're…concerned about splinters?"
"Kiryu. Please. You are being ogled by the local retirees."
"No. They probably just feel bad for me."
Sayama sounded like she was choking. "For you? The tall, buff, handsome man taking care of 9 kids and working outside, sweaty muscles on display for the world to see?"
"And my irezumi," Kiryu added. "I'm sure they're put off-"
"They probably can't see it over your rippling muscles-"
"I let myself go a little, I wouldn't say they're rippling-"
"Bull. Last time we talked, you were working out at the dojo with the island's other DILF-"
"What's a DILF?"
Sayama went suspiciously silent. Kiryu pulled the phone from his ear to check if the call had dropped, but the timer still kept ticking.
"Sayama? Are you still there?"
"Kiryu Kazuma. I need you to promise me something." Sayama's voice was completely serious, like it was when they first met. Kiryu felt a chill in his bones. This could not be good.
"What am I promising?"
"Stay off the internet, and do not use that word around anyone."
"What does that mean-"
"It's getting really late here. We really talked longer than I expected-"
"Sayama, wait-"
"Good night, Kiryu." The call disconnected, and Kiryu groaned. The temptation was killing him, but an incoming text killed his curiosity immediately.
'Do NOT repeat that word or look it up.'
Well. He promised, after all.
- - -
Majima might have been called the Mad Dog of Shimano, but he never really thought of himself as rabid or feral.
But, he might have started foaming at the mouth when he opened kamublo and saw the first post.
The post in question was an update to Kiryu's blog of revelations, but, interestingly enough, it wasn't one of his usual updates.
The post was a day old and simply titled "Orphanage Fundraiser - Ryukyu Area," and included very few details, but the details in question painted a very beautiful picture.
Kiryu Kazuma, beefcake supreme, the himbo to end all himbos, was running a car wash.
A car wash.
In the summer heat. Right by the beach.
Majima's mind was filled with images of his situationship in a tight, soaked, white t-shirt, bent over a car windshield, scrubbing diligently. His muscles flexing from the strain and repetitive movements.
He was definitely not foaming at the mouth, but he did catch himself drooling at the mental image.
He scrolled the comments and was both awed and filled with envy. Several locals had commented on his service that, while clumsy on occasion, was good enough and they were glad to support a worthy cause.
Yeah, he didn't care about that part. Kiryu was washing cars by hand in a tropical paradise all weekend, and Majima needed to be in Okinawa yesterday.
"NISHIDA! Get me on the first flight to Okinawa and the best fuckin' car they got!"
"Yes, oyaji! Right away!"
Majima was on the plane within hours of Nishida scurrying away. The man really was a miracle worker, he mused as he took a sip of his complimentary champagne.
He began considering different rewards for the last minute, perfectly executed request, but the flight attendant saying "Okinawa" reminded him of the reason for his visit.
Kiryu-chan in soaking wet denim shorts, kneeling down to scrub at a wheel.
Kiryu-chan peeling off his t-shirt, his forearms flexing as he wrung out the water. A stray drop trickling between his ample pectorals, sliding closer and closer to his abs with every move.
Majima's thoughts continued along the same vein for the next three hours, but he managed to get through the flight without incident. All he had to do now was pick up the car, which Nishida was strangely vague about, and get to the orphanage.
He did not expect the car.
It was a vibrant yellow convertible (great job, Nishida) but was woefully tiny. The attendant handed him the keys and made his escape, but Majima stayed frozen to his spot in front of the car, scanning every possible inch.
He made a decision to act, and pulled out his phone to call Nishida.
The phone had barely rung once, and he didn't wait for Nishida to respond.
"The fuck didja get me?"
"It's a Porsche, boss! 911 Turbo convertible! I thought you'd like it."
"Ya know how tall I am, right?"
"Y-Yes boss, but-"
"And ya got me a fuckin' clown car." He slammed his hand on the hood of the car, hoping Nishida could hear it on his end.
"Well, no-"
"What made ya think that's a good idea?"
"Well, American basketball players seem to do well-"
"Haw?" The fuck does that have to do with me-
"I did some research. NBA players drive this car. I can send you the list-"
"I don't need a fuckin' list!" Majima barked. He looked down at his gloved hand and noticed he was caressing the hood of the car. He snatched his hand away and raised an eyebrow. "NBA players, you said?"
"The tallest men in the world drive 911s, boss!"
"Sure, sure," Majima drawled, walking around to the drivers' side door (it was on the wrong fuckin' side). "Ya know this is a left-hand drive, right?"
"It's imported-"
"Which eye am I missin', Nishida?"
"Your left!" Nishida answered confidently and immediately. "They said the mirrors are excellent, boss! Extra wide angle! You'll be fine."
"Fine? I gotta be in one piece an' perfect form! And ya just set me up ta crash!?"
"I would never do that, oyaji! You specifically requested 'a car that Kiryu-chan-no-ojiki would cream over,' and the Porsche 911 Turbo in Speed Yellow was the only car that fit the bill." Nishida paused for a moment. "Besides, you like the car, don't you?"
"It's a very nice- Hold it right there, how the fuck-"
"I can hear your gloves squeaking on the paint, oyaji."
Majima spluttered indignantly, trying to formulate a response before landing on a simple, enraged, "Fuck you, Nishida," though it didn't have as much venom as he'd hoped.
"If you want, I can swap the rental-"
"No- Nah, I gotta hit the road before Kiryu-chan tuckers himself out cleanin' tractors and shit. Don't call me back unless it's an emergency."
He didn't wait for Nishida's response before hanging up and getting in the car.
It was a perfect fit, but he would never admit that to Nishida.