The Yakuza's flower

Unveiling secrets

Hanayama's POV

After seeing ume hurt because of what Sayaka did. It took everything in me not to go after sayaka.

I remembered Ume's face.

The way her eyes shifted when I didn't answer her question about Sayaka's family.

Like she saw right through me.
Like I caused her a huge disappointment in some sort of way.

"Tch.. women." I said to myself as I began take off the hospital equipment form my body.

I didn't wait for the hospitals okay to go home. I just said thank you and left.

—-

The next day
I figured I could go check on Ume myself.

I got her, her favorite flowers. Felt stupid carrying them, but it was all I could think of. Something real. Something she'd know was from me.

When I got to her apartment, the lights were off. Too quiet.

I stood there a long time, flowers in my hand, listening. Nothing.

She was gone.

The kind of gone that meant she wasn't coming back.

I set the flowers down by her door anyway.

Then I lit a cigarette, leaned against the wall, and stayed until the smoke burned down to nothing.

Ume's POV

I stopped going to work entirely...

I didn't visit him in the hospital.

Didn't answer Kizaki's texts. Didn't respond to anything from his side of the world.

I even abandoned my apartment and moved back in with my grandmother after everything that had happened.

She didn't ask questions—just opened the door and held Prince while I cried in silence the first night.

The days blurred.

I woke when Prince woke. Slept when he finally closed his eyes. Ate only when my grandmother slid a bowl in front of me and gave me that look that told me she wasn't going to let me wither away.

I didn't check my phone anymore. The notifications stacked like a wall I refused to look over.

————

One evening, my grandmother was rocking prince gently in her arms while I sat on the floor, my back against the couch, staring into nothing. My body ached from exhaustion, but I was resting okay and eating okay.

I think she saw it how stressed I was

"I heard the yakuza man is in the hospital," she said gently.

I didn't look up. "Yeah."

"Have you gone to see him?"

I shook my head "no"

" I see."

She hummed, like she believed me. Like she'd already known the answer.

Her rocking slowed, the rhythm steady, almost hypnotic. Prince made a soft sound, half-asleep, his tiny hand curled in her sleeve.

"You're keeping everything inside again," she said after a while. Not accusing, not demanding—just stating it, like the weather.

I swallowed hard, eyes still fixed on the carpet. "There's nothing to say."

"There's always something to say."

The words hung between us. My throat tightened, but I didn't answer.