Let's have a good time together

Jiro swirled a coffee before taking a sip, savoring its rich aroma as his intense eyes were locked on a sleeping figure.

He had been waiting for this moment for the past months and it was finally here - his personal tormentor Natsuo Nakashima, was defenselessly and helplessly lying on his couch.

Jiro was satisfied and vindicated after his work and persistence paid off. He had commissioned the thugs to scour the streets for his past schoolmate and they had finally located him after weeks of searching.

The man had approached his oyabun pleading for a favor - let him save the captured person from the sharp clutches of the yakuza and make a story about how they pressure people to join their ranks.

His leader had agreed in exchange for his unconditional loyalty to their clan, so Jiro had pressed his white hair to the tatami as he vowed to serve Kamiwara's family faithfully until the day he died.

The scheme had worked flawlessly as he successfully snared his prey. Now it was all or nothing as the man carefully plotted his next steps for his ultimate success.

The memories flashed back to the day when he carried the unconscious bully to his penthouse. His homelessness was undeniable, and he may have also lost his family, but that wasn't enough to punish him.

Jiro had made a plan to get revenge on his previous antagonist. His goal was to make the perpetrator pay for what he had done to him, no matter the cost.

He wanted that vermin to suffer the same way he had, to feel the crushing loneliness of having no one to turn to and no future to look forward to.

He wanted that vermin to feel the excruciating pain of being betrayed and abandoned by the only person he trusted.

He wanted that vermin to be driven to the brink of despair, where he would be forced to take his own life.

That was the hidden secret beneath him. It was the dark and sinister nature of the yakuza, to which Jiro now belonged.

Natsuo was suddenly startled awake from his seemingly calm slumber. His eyes were wide with fright after he spotted the white-haired man's silhouette and his silent observation of him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I made coffee with roasted Andean beans. Would you like some?" Jiro asked with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"No, thanks," Natsuo answered groggily. The slender figure quickly collected himself and straightened his posture. His pale cheeks turned pink and he seemed embarrassed by being caught off guard while sleeping on the couch like that.

"Are you afraid of me? Because I belong to the yakuza?" Jiro asked, arching his brows as if he expected a response that would confirm his suspicions.

Natsuo averted his attention, for some reason unable to look at the white-haired man's expression.

"No, not because of that..."

He swallowed and fiddled with the loose shirt borrowed from the multimillionaire with his hands. Jiro's gaze traveled to his fingers, and for the first time, he noticed how small and delicate they really were.

"I know I don't deserve your help," Natsuo continued, his half-closed eyes cast downward as he tried to find the right words to explain his obvious discomfort.

"I have all the money I could ever need, but I don't have anyone to share it with. So, I thought it would be nice to have someone around who I can talk to and who I could help at the same time."

They were both quiet for a while. Jiro waited for Natsuo to respond, but the young man remained silent. After a few moments, the yakuza finally broke the tension.

"I know this isn't the most conventional way to help, but it could help you relax a bit," he said, his eyes twinkling with a playful glint.

The yakuza reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small metallic box. He opened it with a click, exposing three neatly rolled marijuana joints inside.

Natsuo raised his eyebrows in disbelief, clearly not expecting such an invitation. He was about to shake his head but stopped in his tracks when he watched how Jiro placed one of them between his lips and ignited it with a lighter, reflecting the flame onto his dark pupils.

The pungent smell of marijuana danced around them, making Natsuo's nose twitch in surprise. Jiro's tattooed hand stretched out and he offered him the blunt, beckoning him to join him in a moment of tranquility.

The brunet hesitantly grabbed it and brought it to his mouth, coughing as thick fumes seeped into his lungs.

"Try to hold it in," his former classmate advised.

Natsuo inhaled the earthy herb and did like he was told, before slowly releasing the smoke from his lips.

Jiro made his way to the couch and lifted his legs on the table, settling himself comfortably as he stared at his past bully with curiosity.

(Later that night)

The sun was beginning to rise, painting the sky with a soft pink hue as they sat on the glass-enclosed and heated balcony, admiring Tokyo's morning view from the 49th floor.

Natsuo had sunk into serenity for the first time as he looked into the distance. His heart slowed and his anxiety eased after he had inhaled the drug into his system - all of his sweating and awkwardness had disappeared after those few breaths, making his ex-classmate's company a bit more bearable.

The last bits of smoke swirled around the tattooed man, creating a gentle cloud around him. As he exhaled, his eyes gradually closed, allowing a peaceful expression to wash over his face. He seemed to be in a state of complete relaxation as he sank into the sunbed, his movements sluggish from marijuana as he slowly ran his hand through his hair.

Jiro had done the majority of the talking, telling stories about the yakuza and how he had spent the fortune he inherited from his parents.

Natsuo noticed how dimples formed on his cheeks every time he laughed or how his brow furrowed when his words got more serious. His tone of voice was deep and captivating as he recounted his past tales, making the listener feel almost like he was in a trance.

The yakuza had an aura that was both inviting and dangerous, like a reminder of the untamed nature that lurked beneath his surface. It was as if he was in the presence of a wild beast, one that could both protect him and consume him at the same time.

"How about we spend the day shopping tomorrow?"

Natsuo sat on the warm ceramic tiles, feeling suddenly anxious as Jiro unexpectedly changed the subject.

"Don't worry about the money, I can buy you whatever you want," he said with a smirk, his gaze never wavering from his new housemate.

"Y-you don't need to do that."

Jiro leaned in, his face right next to the other man's flushed one. Natsuo held his breath, powerless to move as those pale brown eyes pierced his soul.

"Come on, let's have a good time together," the man with tattoos whispered.