The Yakuza's flower

The Blooming Flower

Ume's pov

Two months have passed since my argument with Hanayamas.

I sadly still work at his club but I avoid him as much as possible. However I try spending more of my time working at the cafe with my grandmother.

Motherhood was everything and nothing all at once—joy and exhaustion tangled in a constant dance. Between diaper changes and lullabies, I found moments to catch my breath, but a part of me was restless....

I missed me,
the old me ....
The balanced me

So

One night I stood at the sink, washing bottles with slow, careful hands. The rhythmic clink of glass and the warm water running over my skin grounded me in a way nothing else could right now. I thought about going back to my training with retsu

I figured... maybe all I needed was the dojo to bring my spark back.

So the next day I finally made a decision and went back to the dojo where restu would train me

The sun was just rising when I stepped up to the dojo's sliding doors. The familiar wooden frame creaked softly as I pushed the doors open, the smell of sweat, wood polish, and old leather greeting me like an old friend.

But the place felt different now. Quieter. More serious.

I scanned the room, looking for Retsu.

Instead, I found Doppo.

He was in the middle of training a group, his voice sharp and commanding, the way he moved—precise, almost brutal.

I hesitated, heart pounding.

When his eyes landed on me, everything slowed.

"Ume," he said, expression unreadable.

I swallowed and nodded.

"Doppo, hello, I'm here to train," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Doppo's gaze didn't waver. "Retsu isn't here."

"I see, I'll just come back when he's here" I said quickly.

He chuckled softly, arms crossed. "Actually, stick around. Think I'm willing to train you today."

I blinked, caught off guard.

"Train me?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.

Doppo gave a short nod. "Don't get used to it. I don't do favors."

I swallowed, a strange mix of hope and apprehension swirling in my chest.

"Alright," I said, trying to sound confident.

I waited for his class session to end.

And when it was just us two

He motioned toward the mats with a sharp flick of his hand. "Show me what you've got."

My heart pounded as I stepped forward, muscles tensing with a familiar surge of adrenaline.

Doppo didn't waste time with pleasantries.

He moved fast—relentless, challenging every weakness he saw.

I missed this. The grind. The push. The chance to prove something—to myself, more than anyone else.

He didn't go easy on me.

Every strike he threw was deliberate—measured, but sharp enough to test my reflexes. I blocked as best as I could.  Took a hard shots from every angle and an even harder one to the ribs that knocked the wind from me.