The Yakuza's flower

Fresh start

Ume's POV

Things have been going pretty well since I got here with Rey.

So far, I've met his fiancée, Maribel. She's super sweet—like the kind of woman who gives hugs that actually mean something. It's a little overwhelming how kind she is, but I'm trying to let myself get used to it. Not everyone wants something from me.

I've settled into the guest room at their place. It's small, but cozy. There's a little cactus by the window that Maribel says is "impossible to kill," which feels like some kind of metaphor I'm not ready to unpack yet. I put my clothes in drawers, hung up my jackets and dresses. Made a space for myself. It sounds stupid, but just putting my toothbrush in the holder next to theirs made me feel... weird

My Spanish sounds rough. Choppy, like I'm chewing the words instead of speaking them. I've been talking in Japanese for years—. Switching back feels strange, but I'm trying. Rey says it'll come back. I believe him. I want to believe him.

The streets I once knew are completely different—new shops, new graffiti, new kids running around—but somehow they still smell the same. Same panadería on the corner. Same old señora next door who watches everything from her porch like a queen on her throne. She recognized me right away, called me "la florecita ." I didn't even know she remembered me.

It's weird. I thought I'd feel more lost. But instead... I feel like I'm finally waking up after a long, bad dream. There's still pain, and I still flinch at shadows sometimes, but I'm breathing again.

One lovely afternoon

Maribel and I sat in the living room, the afternoon light spilling in through the windows. The house was quiet for once—Rey had gone out, and there wasn't the usual chaos of baby preparations echoing through the space.

She was folding a pile of baby and adult clothes, carefully smoothing each one before setting it aside. I sipped my tea, watching her with quiet curiosity.

"You and my brother..." I started, swirling the cup in my hands. "How did that happen?"

Maribel looked up, her expression softening into a smile.

"Oh, that's a story," she laughed, setting down a tiny onesie. "Let's just say your brother wasn't always the charming man he thinks he is."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

She grinned. "Oh yeah. The first time I met him, he was so full of himself. Thought he was some kind of mystery man—brooding, serious, always late."

I laughed. "That definitely sounds like him."

She leaned back against the couch, resting a hand on her belly. "We met through mutual friends. I wasn't supposed to like him. Honestly, I thought he was annoying at first. Always acting like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders."

I tilted my head. "So what changed?"

Maribel's smile softened. "One night, we were at a party. I found him sitting outside on the steps. Everyone else was inside having fun, but there he was... just alone."

I stayed quiet, letting her words settle.

"I sat next to him and asked what his deal was. And for the first time, he actually talked to me. He told me about you. Your parents. How he felt like he had to redeem himself and Do everything on his own."

My breath caught in my throat.

"He didn't say much," she continued. "But I could tell—he loved you more than anything. And I think... that's when I started to fall for him."