In a way, Daigo is used to it. Yakuza life is extremely communal, being dragged into everyone's conflicts is part and parcel. They are a family, a unit, and they take that more seriously than other syndicates of their time and place. A lower ranking yakuza might owe his family an apology for inconveniencing them, but it would be... mostly perfunctory. His aniki would laugh and maybe put him in a headlock, tell him he was buying lunch or a round of drinks. In that regard, Daigo wouldn't expect anything from Shaxx at all. It would be just as appropriate to nod in acknowledgement of the difficulty of it all and just move on.

That's what he's doing, anyway. That was the point of the garage, wasn't it? It's a business with a schedule that keeps turning regardless. He appears from under the hood of a car, hair loose and unstyled under a bandana. He takes off the gloves he has on and tucks them in a back pocket as he comes out to answer the call of his name and the hiss of the cat. Bells on the door might be a little more pleasant, but the cat serves the same effect.

"Hey," he greets, the usual amount of mild and friendly that he gives everyone. "I wasn't expecting you."

Possibly he should have, but he had been preoccupied with what he was doing.