The Yakuza's flower

A bad feeling

Ume's POV

I ran.

My breath was shaky, my vision blurred from the tears I refused to let fall. My cheek stung from where my grandmother's hand had struck me, but the pain in my chest was worse.

She called me a whore.

My own grandmother—my own family.

The humiliation burned through me as I sprinted down the empty streets, my hands clenched so tightly around the strap of my bag that my knuckles ached. My heart pounded, not just from running, but from the sheer weight of what had just happened.

I didn't stop until I reached home. My hands fumbled with the door, my breathing uneven as I pushed it open and rushed inside.

Straight to my room.

I didn't think. I didn't hesitate.

I grabbed my bag and started shoving clothes into it, my movements rushed and frantic. I didn't even know what I was packing—I just needed to leave. I couldn't stay here. Not after that.

Kozue.

She would understand. She always did.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I zipped my bag shut, threw it over my shoulder, and wiped at my damp cheeks. Then, without another glance at the room I had always called home, I turned and left, making my way to Kozue's house.

I just hoped she would let me stay.

When I knocked on her door, it only took a few seconds before Kozue opened it.

The moment she saw me—my puffy eyes, the way I clutched my bag like a lifeline—her face fell.

"Ume...?" Her voice was laced with concern, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything just yet.

She didn't ask questions. She just stepped aside and let me in.

As soon as we were in her room, I dropped my bag onto the floor and sat on the edge of her bed, my hands gripping the fabric of my dress tightly. The weight of the night pressed down on me all at once.

Kozue sat beside me, watching me carefully.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

I took a shaky breath, staring at my hands. "It was my grandmother..." My voice cracked. "She—she slapped me, Kozue. In front of everyone. She called me a whore."

Kozue's entire body tensed. "What?" Her voice was sharp now, disbelief flashing across her face.

I swallowed hard, my throat burning. "She saw the necklace... Hanayama's necklace. She lost it. Said she wouldn't allow me to be a 'yakuza whore.' Then she just... she just started hitting me."

I felt Kozue's hand grab mine, squeezing tightly.

"Ume," she whispered, her voice shaking with anger. "She had no right to do that to you."

I let out a bitter laugh, but it came out more like a choked sob. "Tell her that."

Kozue didn't let go of my hand. "You're staying here. For as long as you need."

The tension in my chest loosened just a little. I nodded, gripping her hand back.

For the first time since leaving the cafe, I felt like I could finally breathe.

Days had gone by, and I hadn't been home for almost a month. Some nights I stayed with Kozue, other nights with Hanayama—my life had become a constant shuffle between places, none of which truly felt like mine.