Reflection

Author Notes: Holiday Hell-both my favorite and hated time of the year lol. Time to get the ball rolling boys and girls. (Edit-ended up super busy to the point where I forgot to post it last night...whoops) I do not own Yakuza

3rd P.O.V

The white of from the snow clashed against the fuchsia suit one lone man wore in the bustling streets. It was a cold winter night, the wind blew his disaster of an aftro in all directions, but he wasn't cold. Fingerless gloves, black boots to cross the icy sidewalks and eyes that burned with enough passion to keep him warm as he traveled.

He was alone, a surprise that he himself found as he found himself in a familiar building. For the last year, unless it was to use the bathroom...his friends kept to his side, as if someone stitched a ligament to his shadow. Funny how back in his youth...he had no friends but wanted them dearly.

Just like how he desperately wanted thing between him, Arukawa-San and the Young Master to go differently. There were many things he regretted. A lot of pain he held, but the friends he made kept him going on top of keeping him sane. But again...so many things happened. Things were so different once he walked out of jail.

He honestly hasn't changed much. A bit more patient in his age, a bit more caring towards himself-but in the end, he was still Ichiban Kasuga. A friend, a troublemaker...a mourner. Later on, he would meet his friends at their favorite bar and party the night away, but for now, he allowed himself to take a walk.

Not to clear his head, but to remember. The good, bad and ugly mixed messily, but distractions could only prolong the inevitable for so long. Ichiban had enough time, enough distractions to keep control of his emotions to reminisce without needing a shoulder to cry on. Or...at least that was the plan.

But the moment his fingers brushed against the lockers, a tornado of memories swooped him away. His talk with Arukawa-San about the lockers, and how if he was faster-could've prevented the Young Master's loss of legs. Then the news when Arukawa-San died, and how it broke him

Then the talk-all the talks he had with his Young Master before he was stabbed...about how Ichiban loved him-wanted him to know that he wanted his brother back. The phantom pains came. Bruised and blodied knuckles were gone.

The cuts and scrapes from constant brawls against yakuza and scumbags alike faded with time. Yet the pain...it always lingered, as if they managed to take a stab into his heart and let it fester. Maybe it was the bullet that kickstarted his whole journey last year...

According to Nanba, he was lucky to have survived. But they all knew now that it was no coincidence. Arukawa-San did what he had to do, and Ichiban didn't blame him...but he couldn't pretend that everything, including the bullet hitting his chest, healed perfectly.

Scars were on his body as well as his heart. They flared up, a wicked, burning reminder at night when the nightmares tortured his slumber. He let out a shaky exhale, returning to reality. No one paid him any mind-and that was fine.

Ichiban was too old to be crying like a kid, even more so for someone to look at him with worry while doing it. He cleared his throat, swallowing the lump that formed, as he forced his legs at a brisk pace.

A part of him regretted not bringing alcohol, that it would've been helpful to ease the memory storm that bombarded his head. Another part however...was glad he decided not to. Pain be damned, he couldn't disregard the memories-he could not stain the feelings that flowed within him.

This was the next step in the process of healing. Though everyone, Ichiban included, probably didn't think Nanba was serious when the ex-homeless man told him to take a walk with the past towards the future. Yet...that was what he was doing.

Going to the places he frequented all over Ijincho last year. He checked on Part-Time hero and the swarm of cats. He met with Eri-Chan and saw how well their business flourished under her control. He checked out the slums, every store and restaurant he went to.

With his little adventure he greeted and was greeted in turn by so many people. So many faces, familiar and warm. It helped him continue, even though he wasn't sure if it actually was healing him. In the end, he could only put one foot in front of the other.

He made it arguably to the most painful place he could tonight as far as his past was concerned. Only one last place to go, the hardest one of all. It both had nothing to do with his past, as well as everything. And he never truly stepped forth at this particular destination within his time as a surviving citizen in Ijincho.

His breathing came out in gasps, his legs burning as if he ran all the way. His hands an irritated red as they gripped black metal bars, holding him up. It was snowing. Softly over the graves of the father and brother he never got to properly reunite with.

"Hey...it's been awhile, huh?" Trembling lips tried to remain firm while he knelt in front of them, paying respects. Ichiban wasn't sure if he could really believe in ghosts or the afterlife, but he wanted to believe that Arukawa-San and the Young Master were at peace...wherever they were.

In the empty cemetary, he spoke to the cement stones, telling stories. What he'd seen and been up to. With each sentence he felt lighter in a way. Not better, but lighter, warmer too as the cold no longer bothered him.

Time became irrelevant as he stayed there, hearing himself let go of the frustrations he bottled. By the time he ran out of words, the moon replaced the sun, and his phone buzzed. A smile came to his lips as he checked his texts. His friends...nothing but a bunch of worrywarts.

'Hey birthday boy, what's taking you so long?!'

'Hurry your ass home!'

'We brought all this food over-it's going to get cold.'

'Yeah we even ordered some pecking duck!'

Chills sprang up Ichiban's spine. "Pecking...duck? Oh shit!" He pocketed his phone before making a mad dash home. The yakuza man leaped pver stopped cars, barrelled through gangs of people and flew through the streets. "Of all the fucking things they had to order!"

The end

Author Notes: Look what you've done, Mako! For Shaaaaammmmmeee

Mako: You're the one that said I should put pecking duck in this one shot.

Sen: SHAAAMMMMMEEEEEE! Who are you killing off? Which of those characters pissed you of- it's Nanba isn't it?

Mako: Again...this was your idea.

Sen: Nanba runnnnnnnnn. Drop everything you got. Your wallet, the duck, the bottle of alcohol and fleee for your life.

Mako: Well...with that I am ending it here. Everyone thank you all so much for reading this story. If you like it please feel free to fav/follow/review as it means a lot to us knowing you guys like our stories. Also check out our other holiday one shots, we have a ton for you guys. But with that, we'll see you next time. Tchao for now.