The Yakuza's flower

Dancing with strangers

Maribel's POV

It started with a look.
The kind of look that lingered on a reflection too long, or paused too long at a window, eyes distant like the body was here—but the soul hadn't caught up.

Ume had been better lately. Eating more. Smiling sometimes. Laughing, even. But I could still see it—those quiet moments where her gaze drifted, where her hands clenched for no reason, where the weight of her own thoughts pulled her under again.

I knew that look. I used to wear it like a second skin.

So I made a decision.

"Put on something cute," I said, breezing into the bedroom where she was curled up with a book. "We're going out tonight."

She blinked up at me, suspicious. "Out where?"

"You'll see...."

———

I knew I shouldn't have done it.
I knew Rey would be pissed.

But Ume needed this.

She had spent too long locked away—trapped in her own mind, in her own pain. And I refused to sit back and watch her disappear. Not on my watch.

So when my friend/cousin invited me to a party—nothing crazy, just a backyard thing with music, drinks, and dancing—I didn't think twice.

Well... I thought about Rey.
And then I decided not to tell him.

I wasn't doing anything wrong.
Neither was Ume.

She deserved a night to just be.
To feel normal.
To feel alive.

By the time we got there, the music was already floating through the air—cumbia, salsa, a little reggaeton to keep people moving. The backyard was strung with soft golden lights, full of people laughing, drinking, swaying to the beat. Smoke from the grill lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of lime and beer.

Ume stood close to me at first, clutching her cup like it was a lifeline. Her shoulders were stiff, eyes scanning the crowd like someone might jump her.

"Come on, Ume," I said, bumping her hip playfully. "Just one drink. Drink for me since I can't."

She laughed, already shaking her head. "You're trying to get me in trouble."

"Trouble?" I scoffed, lifting my nonalcoholic drink. "Girl, the only trouble here is how fine you look tonight and how you refuse to let anyone admire it."

She rolled her eyes, but I saw it—the smallest smile pulling at her lips.

Progress.

"Speaking of admirers..." I smirked, tilting my head toward a guy who'd been eyeing her for the last twenty minutes. He was tall, smooth, dressed in a way that said confident, not try-hard.

The second Ume's eyes met his, he started walking over.

"Oh no," she murmured.

I pinched her arm. "Relax."

"Maribel—"

"Just talk to him."

Too late. He was already there.

"Hey," he said, voice low and easy. "I couldn't help but notice you haven't danced all night."

Ume blinked, caught off guard. "Uh—"

"I'm Diego," he said, offering her a hand like a gentleman. "And you are?"

She looked at me, eyes wide. Like she wanted me to bail her out.