The Yakuza's flower

Surprise

Ume's pov

I took a deep breath and walked into his office

He was sitting at his desk, papers in front of him, but he looked up the moment the door opened. His eye softened the second he saw me.

"Beautiful," he said, his voice dropping into that low, warm tone he only uses with me. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing, just wanted to see you." I said softly as I gave him a small smile.

I came around his desk and he leaned back in his chair slightly so that I could sit on his lap .

His hand immediately settled on my thigh

"You look tense. What's wrong?" he asked, reaching for a cigar.

My breath hitched softly.

"Um... we need to talk. About something serious." I said just as he was about to light his cigar.

Before he could, I placed my hand over his — stopping him.

His eye lifted, sharp and confused.

"I... I don't think you should smoke around me for a while," I said softly.

he didn't argue.

He just slowly set the cigar down on the table.

Then, without looking away from me, he reached for a bottle of whiskey instead — his fallback. A habit. Maybe even a shield.

My heart hammered so loud I thought he could hear it.

I finally found the courage to reach into my purse.

My fingers shook as I pulled out the ultrasound photos — the black-and-white images that had been burning a hole in my bag for a week. I placed them gently in front of him.

"What is this?" he asked, still confused, his voice low and rough.

I swallowed, forcing myself not to look away.

"I'm... um... I'm pregnant."

He stopped moving.

Completely.

The bottle of whiskey was still in his hand, hovering just above the desk like he'd forgotten what it was. His fingers froze around the bottle. His shoulders stilled. Even his breathing felt suspended in the air.

His eyes weren't on me anymore —
they were locked on the ultrasound photos.

Staring.
Studying.
Trying to make sense of them.

"Um... there are two babies," I added, my voice trembling. "It's twins."

........

That did it.

The whiskey bottle in his hand exploded —
glass shattering in his palm with a loud crack.

I jolted back in shock.

Amber liquid splattered across his desk, dripping down the edges, pieces of glass falling to the floor. His hand didn't even bleed — his grip had crushed the bottle before it had a chance to cut him.

"Two?" he said, voice rough, almost not his own.

I swallowed hard. "Yeah..."

For a moment, he didn't move.

Didn't breathe almost

Hanayama lifted me up to my feet when he stood so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor.

He wasn't looking at the photos anymore.

He was looking at me.

At my stomach.