Inlove with my Gangster Teacher

Chapter 67: The Furuta-kai incident part5

The scent of jasmine always reminded Hinami of her mother. It lingered in the soft silk kimonos her mother wore, in the faint traces she left behind when she leaned down to kiss Hinami goodnight. As a child, Hinami had believed her mother's touch could soothe anything—scraped knees, a fever, even the sharp sting of her father's stern refusals. Her mother had a way of balancing the world, indulging Hinami with sweetness while her father offered structure and unyielding discipline.

"You're spoiling her," her father would grumble as her mother laughed, slipping Hinami yet another sweet treat under the table. "She's a child," her mother would reply, her voice like a soft melody. "Let her be one while she can."

But childhood ended the day her mother didn't come back.

Hinami's world turned quiet after that. The jasmine scent faded, replaced by the sterile bitterness of incense at her mother's funeral. Her father, always a stoic man, became a granite wall—impossible to scale and colder than ever. He buried himself in his work, leaving Hinami alone in the vast, traditional house that now felt like a prison. At first, she cried for her mother, then for her father, then for anyone to notice the gaping hole in her chest. But no one came.

So, she stopped waiting. She stopped leaving her room. Days turned into weeks, and weeks blurred into months. The world outside became a distant hum, something she no longer wanted to face. Her father knocked on her door once, twice, but she ignored him. He didn't understand—he couldn't. Her mother had been her light, and now that light was gone, leaving her in endless shadow.

It was pity that finally brought her father back to her door.

"Hinami," he said one evening, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it. "You can't stay in there forever."

She didn't respond at first. What could she say? That she was angry? That she felt abandoned? That the man she looked up to her entire life had no idea how to be a father without her mother's guiding hand? But then an idea struck her. If he wanted her to come out, he would have to earn it.

"Fine," she said finally, opening the door just a crack. Her father's face was haggard, the lines deeper than she remembered. "But only if you give me whatever I want."

He hesitated. For a moment, she thought he might refuse. But then he sighed, a heavy sound filled with resignation. "Anything," he said.

From that day on, Hinami's life changed. If she asked for a new dress, it appeared in her room the next day. If she wanted sweets from the most exclusive shops in Tokyo, they were delivered without delay. Vacations, expensive tutors, even a rare purebred puppy—her every whim was met, no matter how extravagant. Her father's men whispered behind her back, calling her spoiled, but none of them dared say it to her face. After all, she was the Kumicho's daughter, and she had her father wrapped around her finger.

As she grew older, her demands grew more outrageous. By the time she reached her teenage years, Hinami had mastered the art of control. She knew how to ask for what she wanted and how to make people bend to her will. But beneath the surface, there was still that little girl, wishing someone would see past her demands and simply hold her.

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Hinami gritted her teeth, her hand trembling slightly as she pulled a small handgun from her pocket and pointed it at Yankumi.

Yankumi's expression hardened, her eyes narrowing. She stood her ground, unshaken by the weapon now aimed at her.

"Oi!" Shin's voice broke through the tension, his face filled with shock and alarm. He instinctively took a step forward, but Hinami quickly turned the gun in his direction.