[ Majima could have said 'a hit', but that was what it came down to when you stripped away the veneer of industryspeak. A murder, as Sagawa would have said, was a murder. By now, his Kansai accent was back in place. ]
I had three days to find and off some scumbag pimp. Only once I found him, he wasn't a he; it was a blind girl. Makoto Makimura. She was workin' as a therapist's assistant out of a hole-in-the-wall clinic. Short hair, 'bout twenty years old, maybe 115 pounds soakin' wet. And for some reason, she had half the crime families in Sotenbori chasin' her down.
[ And what a clusterfuck that first encounter had been -- a comedy of fucking errors, with Nishitani's clowns and Wen Hai Lee tossed into the cast for good measure. Only that night he had gotten her alone. For perhaps the first time, Majima sounded unsure of himself, like he was feeling around to try and express something without truly knowing what it was. ]
I couldn't do it. I... tried, I had the chance.
[ But ultimately, he'd failed, and that knowledge was somehow both a relief and a splinter of doubt he now carried with him. What did it mean to be a yakuza who'd never pulled the trigger? What if he couldn't? What did it mean that he'd still tried, even knowing that Sagawa's backstory had been a lie?
He'd been so sure at the time that he'd put down DÅjima and his pet assassin, but in the end he'd let Sera talk him out of that, too. ]
I ended up tryin' to help her instead. She's safe now, not that I really did much for her in the end. Out of all of us, I'd say it was Sera's show.
[ Yet there was none of that conflict in Majima's manner when he talked about Makoto, and maybe Tim might recognize the shift in the tone of his voice, the softening of his expression.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2019-05-25 04:58 am (UTC)[ Majima could have said 'a hit', but that was what it came down to when you stripped away the veneer of industryspeak. A murder, as Sagawa would have said, was a murder. By now, his Kansai accent was back in place. ]
I had three days to find and off some scumbag pimp. Only once I found him, he wasn't a he; it was a blind girl. Makoto Makimura. She was workin' as a therapist's assistant out of a hole-in-the-wall clinic. Short hair, 'bout twenty years old, maybe 115 pounds soakin' wet. And for some reason, she had half the crime families in Sotenbori chasin' her down.
[ And what a clusterfuck that first encounter had been -- a comedy of fucking errors, with Nishitani's clowns and Wen Hai Lee tossed into the cast for good measure. Only that night he had gotten her alone. For perhaps the first time, Majima sounded unsure of himself, like he was feeling around to try and express something without truly knowing what it was. ]
I couldn't do it. I... tried, I had the chance.
[ But ultimately, he'd failed, and that knowledge was somehow both a relief and a splinter of doubt he now carried with him. What did it mean to be a yakuza who'd never pulled the trigger? What if he couldn't? What did it mean that he'd still tried, even knowing that Sagawa's backstory had been a lie?
He'd been so sure at the time that he'd put down DÅjima and his pet assassin, but in the end he'd let Sera talk him out of that, too. ]
I ended up tryin' to help her instead. She's safe now, not that I really did much for her in the end. Out of all of us, I'd say it was Sera's show.
[ Yet there was none of that conflict in Majima's manner when he talked about Makoto, and maybe Tim might recognize the shift in the tone of his voice, the softening of his expression.
He loved her. He still did. ]