The Yakuza's flower

Nervous?

Hanayama POV

I woke up before sunrise. Still a little tired, but my body decided I needed to be awake.

I looked over and saw Ume was asleep beside me, curled against my chest. My hand was over her stomach — I didn't even remember putting it there.

...

Two heartbeats.

Two kids

My kids.

I stared at the ceiling for a long time, trying to understand the feeling sitting heavy in my chest. I'd fought men bigger than me, men with weapons, men who wanted me dead...
but this—

It was different.

Ume shifted in her sleep, hand resting over mine softly.

.....

She didn't say no.
She didn't leave.

She said wait.

I didn't know what that meant exactly.

I knew what to do in a fight.
I knew what to do with enemies.
I knew how to protect, how to kill, how to end anything that tried to touch what was mine.

But when it came to her...

I don't like confusion .

Fighting makes sense.
Work makes sense.

But Ume...
Her feelings...
The kids...

I don't know the right way to do any of it.

She said she was overwhelmed.

So I figured I gotta be careful.

I looked over at her again. She looked small in my arms. Fragile, even though she tells me she isn't.

.........

I'll wait.

She wants time.
I'll give it.

I turned my head toward the baby monitor on her side of the bed. A soft crackle came through it, then a small whine... then soft crying.

Prince.

I exhaled through my nose.

Ume didn't move — still asleep.

I slid out from under her slowly, careful not to wake her. She curled into the blanket, hand still resting over her stomach.

I walked out of the room, footsteps quiet for a man my size.

Prince was standing in his crib when I got there, cheeks red, arms reaching up the second he saw me.

"Pa...pa... papa" he cried

When I walked up to his crib and picked him up he clung to my shirt immediately, small fingers gripping tight.

"Mm," I hummed, rubbing his back once.
"It's okay."

He pressed his face into my chest, still sniffling.

His little body trembled — tired, scared, wanting comfort.

...wanting Ume.

I knew that sound.
That soft cry he only made for her.

So I turned around and carried him back down the hall, his head tucked against me, his small breaths warm through my shirt.

The door to the bedroom was still cracked open.

The room was dim, quiet

Ume was still asleep

Still exhausted.