The Yakuza's flower

Boss and worker

Ume's pov

After everything that happened,

things...

started to feel normal again. Not the kind of normal that came easy, but the kind you build piece by piece when everything's been torn apart.

Hanayama got me a new place.

Even though I told him "no"

It wasn't too far from my grandmother's home, which meant I could still visit often and she could still see Prince. The neighborhood was quieter, safer. More eyes, less danger. I kept the curtains closed at night anyway.

He never said why he did it, never explained what hoops he jumped through to make it all happen.

At the club, I wasn't a bottle girl anymore. I Had a clipboard. Gave orders instead of following them. A small promotion, Hanayama had said. But I knew better.

It was protection.

He didn't want me on the floor anymore. Didn't want anyone touching me. Didn't want my name in strangers' mouths.

I kept my distance.

He did too.

We barely spoke unless we had to, but when we did, there was always this pause—this strange little ache that hung in the air between us.

Like we wanted to say more but didn't trust ourselves to.

There were moments, though...

Like when I stayed late to close and he showed up "just to check on things," but didn't leave until I walked out the front door.

Or when Prince got a fever and Hanayama showed up at my apartment with medicine and a doctor before I even had the chance to call.

Or the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention.

Like he remembered.

Like he still felt it... what we used to be.

I honestly don't know what we are now. Not lovers. Not strangers. Something bruised in between.

This pretending was slowly getting to me, because I hated that he felt like he could play the hero role.

Like everything that happened before didn't matter.

Like all it took was a new apartment and a few late-night check-ins to make up for the way he shattered me.

He walked around like he was protecting me, like he was fixing things, But he never once looked me in the eyes and said, "I'm sorry."

the quiet in-between moments were the worst because they just kept getting louder and louder.

I'm not sure how long we can stay in this strange middle ground before one of us breaks....

But

I Guess I spoke too soon.

Because one night, when it was just us again closing up, the quiet didn't stay quiet.

The music had stopped. The lights were low. Most of the staff had already gone home. Prince was in the care of kozue and baki for the night until I picked him up.

I was wiping down the counter when I felt it—him. That heavy presence behind me. He didn't say anything at first, just stood there. Watching me. Breathing slow. Calm. But I knew him too well to be fooled.

"Need something?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

"It's late," he said, not meeting my eyes. "Go home, Ume."