The Yakuza's flower

Future Plans

Kizaki's POV

Ume and Hanayama were out with the little one. I stood by in case they needed anything.

Today they took the kiddo to eat and I was going outside to take a quick smoke away from the restaurant.

As I was away I ran into someone.

"Been awhile kizaki." I heard my name and turned around to see Shiro.

"Shiro. What are you doing here? The god father here?" I asked him as I stood my guard.

"Nah, just out getting some stuff." He said as he showed me a brown bag he had in his hand.

"Can I get a smoke from you?" He asked

I took my cigarettes out and give him one.

"What are you doing here?" He asked me as I lit his cigarette.

"Boss is here, with his.... Family." I said

"Family? He's still playing pretend?" Shiro scoffed, smoke drifting from his mouth.
"You know it looks bad. He's embarrassing his and the godfather's legacy, Kizaki. Why don't you tell him to stop messing around..."

I exhaled slowly, watching the smoke rise between us.

"You really don't know when to mind your business," I said.

Shiro smirked. "Come on. A man like Hanayama shouldn't be wasting his time playing house. You know the type of trouble that brings."

I stepped closer, blocking any sightline he had of the restaurant.
"Careful what you're implying."

"Relax," he said, hands up like he was innocent. "I'm just saying—he looks stupid. Walking around like some gentle giant with a kid and a girl who's not even permanently his."

My jaw tightened.

"That little one is Ume's baby," I said. "That's all that matters."

Shiro shrugged. "Sure. But the world out here don't care about that. People talk. People watch."

I didn't like the way he said watch.

"Hanayama already gave the godfather a warning that the kid is under our protection," I said. My voice was steady, but underneath it my pulse ticked hard.

Shiro smirked, tilting his head.

"Of course," he said lightly. "But do Hanayama's enemies know?"

He dropped his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his shoe.

The question hit harder than a threat. Because he wasn't wrong—Hanayama had plenty of enemies. Old. New. Quiet. Reckless. None of them cared about warnings or boundaries.

Shiro lifted his hands in a lazy, mocking surrender.
"Just thinking out loud."

I watched every step he took until he disappeared around the corner.

He thinks I haven't talked to Hanayama about this situation before...

⸻

Later that day, when Ume and the little one went home,

Hanayama was in his office, sitting on that couch he pretends isn't comfortable. His elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped loosely. He didn't look up when I walked in—he didn't need to.

"You got somethin' to say," he said quietly.

Not a question.

I closed the door behind me.

"Yeah," I answered. "Ran into someone today."

His jaw shifted just a fraction. Still no eye contact—but the air around him got tighter.