The Yakuza's flower

An Heir?

Kizaki's POV

Hanayama told me on a random Tuesday.

No warning. No lead-up. Just poured himself a drink, sat back, and said,
" Ume has a kid."

I didn't respond right away. I didn't flinch. Just watched the way he avoided my eyes as he swirled the whiskey in his glass like it was the only thing worth looking at.

He didn't say it was his. He didn't ask if I thought it was.

He didn't have to.

The silence between us did the talking. The kind of silence that builds and breaks men in this world.

"You want me to do something?" I finally asked.

"No."

A pause.

"Not yet."

Which, in Hanayama-speak, meant: Yes. But not for me. Not out loud. Not until I'm ready to admit I give a damn.

⸻

Three days later, grandfather caught wind of the rumor.

Of course he did.

You don't lead an empire for sixty years without hearing whispers before they become storms.

Shiro showed up at my door the next morning. No call. Just walked in like he owned the street.

"You heard ?" he asked.

I nodded once. "Hanayama told me."

"He tell you whose it is?"

I gave him a look.

"Didn't think so," he muttered.

We stood there for a moment —two men caught between loyalty to a fading king and the quiet chaos of the prince he'd raised.

Then Shiro did something rare: he spoke plainly.

"If the girl had his kid, that changes things."
What he meant was, if there's an heir, the old man will act.

Maybe not today. Maybe not even this year. But eventually.

And in our line of work, "eventually" always ends in blood.

—————-
One night

we drove out to the hospital where Ume had stayed after her fall. Not much staff at night.

I bribed one of the night nurse's. Shiro handled the cameras.

The records office was colder than it should've been. Or maybe that was just my nerves pretending to be weather.

At first, the files were hard to find.

Frustration started to build.

But then we dug deeper.

Medical charts, hidden away in a locked cabinet. Shiro picked it quietly, his hands steady.

Inside, a record caught my eye. It was a documentation of what was done to ume, that day. She had a long list but eventually I got to the part that mentioned a pregnancy.

Ume Sato.

Pregnant.

Due date 0000

It was unfinished. Why?

I stared harder at the form, searching for answers. No notes, no updates. Just empty spaces where details should have been.

Shiro leaned in beside me, his voice low.