The Yakuza's flower

The tainted flower

Rey's POV

The silence strangled me.

My fists were still clenched, my lungs burning. I wanted to hit something. Break something. Scream.

But her voice was still ringing in my head—Kozue's.

"If you hurt him, you hurt her."

How the hell was I supposed to swallow that?

I took a step back, chest heaving. My eyes flicked to Hanayama. He hadn't said a word. Just stood there, like some monolith carved out of stone.

I hated him for it

I hated that he didn't fight back. That he didn't swing. That he looked like he belonged here—like he was the one allowed to grieve for her.

I turned on my heel and shoved the doors open.

The hallway outside was cold and too bright. The walls pressed in like they knew I didn't belong here.

I kept walking.

Faster.

Out through the main entrance, past the reception desk, into the night air that hit my face like a slap.

Only then did I stop.

Only then did I let myself feel it.

I leaned against a wall, breathing hard. Hands on my knees. Like I'd just run miles and left my soul somewhere behind me.

She was hurt

And I wasn't there.

I punched the wall. Hard.

The sting traveled through my arm like fire. I wanted more. I wanted pain to answer pain. I wanted the world to bleed with me.

"My sister ," I muttered. "My sister..."

And I left her.

I left Flor.

I closed my eyes and saw her—wild hair, bright eyes, fists up and fearless even when she was small. The girl who used to patch me up after fights. The one who never backed down. The only real thing I had in this fucked-up world.

And I'd let her walk into it alone.

"Damn it..." I whispered.

My voice cracked.

No one saw. No one heard.

That was good.

I wouldn't let them.

I pulled out my phone.

The screen lit up—unread messages, missed calls.

But none of that mattered

———

I went home with Abuelita (grandma) that night.
She cried more than I'd ever seen her cry.
I held her. I sat beside her. I did what I could.

But nothing I said made it better.

Not for her.

Not for me.

That night, I couldn't sleep. I lay on the couch, eyes open, waiting for the dark to smother me.

Instead, the memories came.

Flashbacks.

That night.

Her screams.

I remember running toward her—barely thinking, just moving. I threw my jacket over her, tried to hide her from the world, from the blood, from everything.