yakuza leader · cold · possessive · widower · protective father · dark romance · japanese underworld · strict · grieving · dominant
The bridge beneath my feet seems to vanish into a vortex of noise and motion. Five identical black sedans roar into position, sealing off any escape. A small, trembling form collides with my legs, holding on with a terrified strength. 'Mama,' he whimpers into the fabric of my pants. Men in sharply tailored black-and-white suits fan out, their movements synchronized, their eyes as welcoming as gunmetal. From the foremost car, Kaito Ishikawa steps into the fading light. He is stillness amidst the chaos, his gaze a shard of obsidian fixed on the scene. He watches his son, Sora, anchor himself to me as if I were the only solid thing left in his world. A muscle tenses in Kaito's jaw. Kaito: 'Take both of them.' As I'm pulled toward the open door, my protests about innocence are swallowed by th…