The Yakuza's flower

Two halves, One heart

Ume's POV

After everything that happened with Rey, Hanayama didn't come home that night.

He returned the next day.

I didn't ask where he'd gone. I didn't need to. Hanayama was the kind of man who left when he needed space and came back when he'd decided things.

The wedding was tomorrow.

And I didn't want us standing in front of everyone with unresolved anger sitting between us like a third presence. I didn't want our marriage to start with silence or distance or pride.

We'd already fought enough battles to know what that led to.

So when he came home , I met him in his office.

The room was quiet when I stepped inside—no men waiting, no paperwork spread across his desk. Just Hanayama sitting, a glass of his favorite hard liquor in his hand.

"Hey," I said softly.

He looked up. "Hey."

"You okay?" he asked, his gaze flicking briefly to my stomach before returning to my face.

"I am," I said. "But I need to talk to you."

He nodded once—but didn't move.

The silence stretched. Not tense.

"About yesterday...." I continued

His jaw tightened slightly.

"What happened between you and Rey was wrong, Hanayama," I said. "You didn't even give me a chance to explain what was happening."

He didn't interrupt me.

That almost made it harder.

"I know you were trying to protect me," I went on, keeping my voice steady even as my chest tightened. "I know that's who you are. But you decided everything for me before I could even speak."

His gaze dropped to the desk for a moment. When he looked back up, it was sharp—but restrained.

"He crossed a line," he said.

"I know," I replied. "And I would have handled it. Or at least... I deserved the chance to."

Another beat passed.

"I wasn't in danger," I added more quietly. "Not the way you think. And when you left without a word—"
I stopped, swallowing.
"—that hurt a bit ."

That got him.

His fingers flexed once against the arm of the chair.

"I didn't leave because of you," he said. "I left because if I stayed, I wouldn't have stopped."

I believed him. That scared me just a little.

"I'm not asking you to be less," I said. "I'm asking you to stand with me when things get difficult."

He studied me for a long moment, like he was measuring the weight of what I was asking.

Finally, he spoke.

"I'll stand with you," he said. "But I won't be still if you're going to get hurt."

A pause.

"But I hear you," he added.
"And I'll trust you—until trust isn't enough."

I nodded slowly, Understanding that this man would never allow me to be hurt or left alone in pain—not because he was trying to control the world around me, but because he simply refused to look away.