Morning – Hanabira Mansion, day 7
The rain hadn’t stopped since dawn, streaking the tall windows of Hanabira Koji’s study like silent tears. Inside, however, the atmosphere was anything but quiet. The room, a blend of traditional and modern design, seemed to pulse with the oyabun’s simmering rage.
Hanabira Koji sat at the head of a long, polished table, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, the tension in his knuckles betraying the fury he fought to keep contained. Across from him, Ryusuke Fujimoto sat stiffly, his usual swagger replaced by visible unease. Takahashi Daichi stood to the side, arms crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on the scene, his presence steady but tense.
Koji’s voice, when it came, was low and controlled, but the venom in his tone was unmistakable. “You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Fujimoto?”
Ryusuke’s eyes darted briefly to Daichi, but he said nothing.
Koji slammed his fist onto the table with a force that made the polished wood groan. “Answer me!” he barked, his voice echoing through the room.
“I—I don’t know what you mean, oyabun,” Ryusuke stammered, his earlier bravado crumbling under Koji’s glare.
“You don’t know what I mean?” Koji repeated, his voice laced with icy mockery. “You assaulted my daughter. My daughter. In my organization. You think I can let that slide?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Ryusuke said quickly, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “It was a misunderstanding—”
“Misunderstanding?” Koji’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood, looming over Ryusuke. His presence was as suffocating as a storm cloud, and his words cut like knives. “You cornered her. Pinned her against a wall. You dared to touch her, to threaten her, and now you sit here and call it a misunderstanding?”
Ryusuke swallowed hard, his face pale. “I didn’t mean any disrespect—”
“Disrespect?” Koji interrupted, leaning forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “What you did was more than disrespect. It was a challenge. A statement. You wanted to test my authority, to see how far you could go before I put you in your place.”
The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the distant sound of rain. Daichi shifted slightly, his gaze flickering between Koji and Ryusuke, but he remained silent.
Koji straightened, his eyes cold and unrelenting. “You think you’re untouchable because you’re a good earner. Because you have connections. But let me make one thing very clear, Fujimoto. You are nothing without my protection. Without my name.”
Ryusuke’s hands clenched into fists on his lap, his knuckles white. “Oyabun,” he began, his voice faltering. “I’m loyal. I’ve always been loyal—”
“Loyal?” Koji’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “You call this loyalty? Loyalty is knowing your place. Loyalty is putting the clan above your petty ambitions. Loyalty is not laying a hand on my daughter.” His voice rose with each word until it thundered through the room.
Ryusuke flinched, his breathing shallow. For the first time, genuine fear flickered in his eyes. “Please, oyabun,” he said, his voice cracking. “I made a mistake. I won’t let it happen again.”
Koji moved around the table slowly, each step deliberate. He stopped just inches from Ryusuke, towering over him, his expression unreadable. “You’re damn right it won’t happen again,” he said, his voice deadly quiet. “Because if it does, I won’t bother with a warning. I’ll have you buried so deep no one will even remember your name.”
Ryusuke’s breath hitched, and he nodded rapidly. “I understand, oyabun. I swear—”
“Swear all you want,” Koji snapped, his voice sharp as a blade. “But words mean nothing to me anymore. You’re on thin ice, Fujimoto. One more slip, and you’re done. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, oyabun,” Ryusuke said quickly, bowing his head. Sweat glistened on his forehead, his cocky demeanor completely shattered.
Koji stared at him for a long moment before stepping back, his presence still oppressive. “Get out of my sight,” he said coldly. “And if I so much as sense disloyalty from you again, pray to whatever gods you believe in that they’re merciful.”
Ryusuke scrambled to his feet, bowing repeatedly as he backed toward the door. “Thank you, oyabun. I won’t disappoint you.”
“Go,” Koji said, his voice dripping with disdain.
As the door closed behind Ryusuke, Koji turned to Daichi, his expression hard as stone.
“Follow him,” Koji said curtly. “I want to know his every move. If he so much as breathes the wrong way, I want to know.”
Daichi nodded, his voice steady. “Understood, oyabun.”
Koji returned to his seat, his hands clasped tightly as he stared at the empty room. His rage simmered just beneath the surface, but his mind was already turning over the implications.
The moment Ryusuke Fujimoto left the study, the tension in the room seemed to lessen—but only slightly. Hanabira Koji remained seated, his hands resting on the lacquered table. His sharp eyes lingered on the door through which Ryusuke had exited, as though burning holes into the air itself.
“He won’t forget this,” Daichi said after a moment, his tone even.
Koji didn’t look at him. “No, he won’t,” he replied, his voice calm but laced with malice. He rose from his chair, adjusting his suit jacket as if brushing off the residue of Ryusuke’s presence. “But words alone aren’t enough. He needs to feel the weight of his failure.”
Daichi nodded, his expression impassive but his understanding clear. Koji’s orders were already in motion.
Ryusuke stepped out into the cold drizzle, his nerves still frayed from the confrontation with the oyabun. He exhaled sharply, his breath clouding in the damp air. He had managed to walk away from the meeting alive, but the pit in his stomach remained.
As he reached the edge of the sprawling Hanabira estate, two men emerged from the shadows near the main gate. They weren’t unfamiliar—both were senior enforcers of the clan, men who answered only to Koji. Their faces were unreadable, but their purposeful strides toward him made Ryusuke stop in his tracks.
“What’s this about?” Ryusuke asked, his voice wavering despite himself.
Neither man answered. The taller of the two cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and deliberate. The shorter man adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, as though preparing for a routine task.
“Wait,” Ryusuke began, stepping back. “The oyabun didn’t say anything about—”
The taller man’s fist caught him square in the stomach, cutting off his words and doubling him over. Before he could recover, the other man delivered a hard strike to his jaw, sending him sprawling into the mud.
Ryusuke groaned, clutching his side, but he barely had time to react before they descended on him.
“This is from the oyabun,” one of them growled, delivering a sharp kick to his ribs.
The other man leaned down, grabbing Ryusuke by the collar and pulling him close. “A reminder,” he said coldly. “Your leash isn’t as long as you think it is.”
The beating was swift but brutal—enough to leave Ryusuke battered, humiliated, and bleeding, but still alive. When they finally stepped back, leaving him crumpled in the mud, neither man said another word. They simply turned and walked back toward the house, disappearing into the shadows as quickly as they had emerged.
Koji stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched the rain fall. He didn’t bother to turn when Daichi re-entered the room.
“It’s done,” Daichi said simply.
Koji nodded once, his gaze still fixed on the wet pavement outside. “Good. Let it serve as a lesson—not just to him, but to anyone else who thinks they can challenge me.”
Daichi hesitated for a moment before speaking. “And Akiko?”
Koji finally turned, his expression unreadable. “I’ll handle her,” he said flatly. “This isn’t about her. It’s about control. And I’ll remind her, as I reminded him, that I am the one who holds it.”
With that, Koji returned to his seat, lighting a cigar as though the incident was nothing more than another chore crossed off his list. Outside, the rain continued to fall, washing the blood from the estate’s pristine grounds.
