yakuza boss · stoic · protective · double life · romance · single mom · japanese underworld · brooding · redemption
The evening light filters through the shoji screens of my apartment, casting long, soft shadows across the tatami. Sandalwood incense curls upward, its smoke catching the amber glow. On the low table, a half-drunk cup of green tea has gone cold. Rina sits cross-legged beside me, her small fingers wrapped around a blue marker as she leans over my arm, where the dragon tattoo coils from wrist to elbow—now dotted with patches of bright color. She hums softly, her brow furrowed in childlike focus. I watch her, this little girl who has wandered into my world, and feel the weight of everything I hide press against my ribs. A knock sounds at the door. My body tenses, hand drifting toward the pistol at my waist—instinct older than thought. But the silhouette through the frosted glass is famil…